For Tomorrow - McLennon AU

17.

8th November, 1955

Paul was asleep in John's bed, head hidden away in the pillow. However John just couldn't sleep, not even to Paul's peaceful little snores that usually sent him off. Infact, that was one of the reasons he couldn't sleep. He found them... Cute? Maybe he shouldn't, but he couldn't help it.

God, why was he suddenly aware of all of these feelings now? Like, he had thought things like how Paul had beautiful and unique eyes before, but he had not been aware of what he was doing... He hadn't thought into it too much.

But ever since yesterday, and talking about queer people, he had noticed every time he thought something that was perhaps... Not what he should have been thinking about his friend.

God Paul would find him so odd if he knew... John felt almost guilty for it.

But a phrase also stuck in his mind.

'Fears of Revolution in the states.'

The sentence kept replaying in his head. How great would that be? For people to actually stand up for what they believe in. Fight for who they are. Not that John felt brave enough to ever do that, though...

'Fear. Revolution."

He couldn't handle it anymore. He untangled himself from Paul's loose grip, standing up and heading over to his desk.

"Finally... Inspiration!" He whispered to himself.

He took a sheet of paper and a pencil, writing the word 'revolution' down at the top. A Rock and Roll song? He could do that, easy.

So he got to work.

After around 20 minutes, he had written the first verse and chorus, beginning to sing it. He hasn't realised how loud he was being.

"Johnny?" Paul whispered, voice groggy. "Mmm... What time is it?" He asked, eyelashes slowly fluttering open.

John found it adorable. God, he found /him/ adorable.

"Oh uh... 11:08."

"Am?"

"No, pm..."

"Why are you still up?" The boy pushed himself up, rubbing his eyes to get a better view of the boy at the desk.

"Haven't been able to sleep, so I decided I'd write a song."

"What's it about?"

"A revolution."

"Revolution?" Paul furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Where did you get that from?"

"From The Americans, who are scared of the people that they treated like shit fightin' back."

Paul stayed silent, slowly getting out of bed and grabbing his crutches. He made his way over to John.

"What's it for?"

"Tomorrow. I said I'd write a song for the band, as I finished strawberry fields in RE. So... I said I'd write one tonight. Just needed some inspiration I guess." He explained. "Actually, they said you could come too."

"To watch you play?"

"Yeah." He smiled.

"A-Are you sure you don't mind that?"

"No, of course not!" John reassured him, reaching out to touch the others hand. He seemed to tense up at that touch. "Oh- I'm sorry..."

"It's fine."

John nodded, feeling a little embarrassed by what he had just done. He looked back down to the paper, trying to forget about it by re-reading his words.