⇾ 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 | 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐈

Chapter Fifty-Nine: To Brian and God and Donna and the Beatles!

December 31, 1961

"Donna, Donna, Dooonna!"

"What is it, John?" I turned to him, smiling.

"It's almost 1962," he said simply, putting his arms around me from behind. "And I'm starting it with you."

I nodded. It was about 10:30 at this point and I knew I should have been happy, but something about me just felt off. Perhaps it was my rapid heartbeat, or maybe it was the brewing headache I'd contracted. Nonetheless, something didn't feel right. I didn't want to ruin anyone's night, though, so I swallowed my suspicion, trying my best to put on a smile. No one could have told I was upset, no one except John.

"Something is wrong with you," he quipped. We were crowded in the boys' hotel room, watching a clock on a desk count down the time until midnight.

I frowned. "Nothing's wrong."

He rolled his eyes. "You're going to have to get better at lying to fool me, pet."

"I'm fine, John." My voice came out desperately stern and he pulled away from me and shrugged, dismissing it.

"I'd help ye, but if ye won't tell me what's wrong, I just can't."

I shook my head. "It's just a headache. I'm fine."

"Do you need something for it?" He asked, running a hand through my hair.

"No, no, I don't. Besides," I said. "I don't want to spoil the party."

He nodded thoughtfully. "How about just some fresh air then? We've got plenty of time before everyone's gonna be celebrating."

I shrugged. "That sounds good."

"Wait, you're going out?" Paul asked, turning to us.

"Were you—?"

"Take this," he pressed some money in John's hand. "Get us all something to drink. We gotta have something to have at midnight, yeah?"

"Yeah, sure."

John and I left behind the bustling of the room we'd been in and walked down the street towards Trafalgar Square. The wind blowing was cold and I couldn't stop myself from shivering, even though I was wearing a jacket.

In response to my trembling, John wrapped his arms around me as we walked. Many of the other people on the square were just drunks stumbling from bars. Other than that, the place was dead. In the blurry distance, I could see the children's home I'd been in  for longer than I'd like to fully believe.

The atmosphere was still strangely calming despite that. I was just happy I wasn't there anymore. I didn't know where John was leading me, but I wished the journey there would last forever.

By the time John and I had found a little store, a light snow was falling from the sky. We wandered into it. The shop was dimly lit and no one was at the counter.

"Maybe they're not open—?" I began, but shut up when a young man who looked younger than both of us stumbled out of the back room, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but there. I looked down.

"Let's uh—," John began, taking my hand and leading me back towards the soda isle.

"What in the world do you plan on buying?"

He picked up a package of six Coca-Colas and looked at me questioningly. I shrugged. "Whatever you think dear Macca will enjoy."

"He'll have to settle for this," he said with a light chuckle.