All Those Years Ago - Lennison Fan Fiction - Beatles Slash Fan Fiction

Chapter One : 1957, Starts and Stops

John was sitting quietly - at least, as quietly as someone like him could - on the top floor of a double Decker bus (in the bus, for a change, and not on the fucking roof), smoking the last ciggie of his pack slowly, drawing it as long as he could, using it to soothe his wrecked nerves. He watched his reflection upon the dusty window, mirrored in black against the dark and rainy screen of the night like some hazy old photograph.

Frowning a bit, he threaded his fingers through his hair, greasing it back with what he could find, fixing his Teddy boy look. A factory worker scoffed loudly at the other end of the bus and John looked up, myopic eyes sharp and steely like a murderer's knife before he realized that the man was merely reading the newspapers. Sighing in annoyance he threw his half-consumed cigarette to the floor, killing in with a vicious heel, cursing himself a few seconds later when he remembered it was the last one and missing the thick smoke of the non-filter drug already.

Paul was supposed to bring some kid along tonight, he remembered when the bus slowed down painfully and came to a screeching halt in front of the Mather Ave bus stop. Kid being the key-word. John didn't want a fucking fourteen years-old kid in his band, but Paul had assured him that he was good and under his soft looks and proper manners, John had soon found out that sweet little Paul McCharmley could be quite stubborn when he had an idea into his head. He shrugged lightly, eyes narrowing to focus upon the badly lit street, trying to make out the figures of the people waiting there to get in the bus, darker shadows blurredly etched upon a slightly less dark background.

George walked along the pavement by Paul's side, his Egmond steel, a strung Spanish-style guitar, thumping against his back. Paul was nervous about introducing George and John. He'd talked up the younger lad quite a bit and John had begrudgingly agreed to give George a listen. Paul didn't think George would muck it up. He was a great guitar player but he knew how critical John could be. He came to an abrupt stop when they were near the double Decker bus.

"Don't be nervous, yeah," he stated.

George nodded but he was still feeling anxious. If John liked him that meant he could sit in when they played gigs. Everything depended on this moment. He had prepared for it though, practising several songs, 'Raunchy' in particular.

"Come on then," Paul smiled, seemingly loosening up because he could read the anxiety on George's face and wanted to put his friend at ease, even though he'd been part of the reason for George's nervousness.

They walked onto the bus and scanned the area briefly before they made their way up to the second level. "Be cool, George," Paul whispered when he spotted John seated at the far end of the bus.

John slouched ostensibly into his seat, wishing he still had a ciggie to smoke to give himself a countenance. He looked down at his crushed one on the floor, lips curling in a little irritated pout before he heard footsteps climb up the bus. Paul soon appeared, his carefully combed hair somewhat messed up by the rain, plump mouth pale because of the cold, perfectly round eyebrows corked up in that superior expression John envied and despised so much.

John gave him a little look, his head tilting forward minutely in recognition but he didn't smile, eyes lazily sliding from Paul's face to his shoulder and then to the boy behind him. He wasn't very tall and looked positively skinny, even scrawny, like a deer in the headlights, his dark eyes huge under the artificial lamps of the bus, wet and bottomless, putting John somewhat uneasy although he hid it all right. The boy had sharp features, high cheekbones, and his jaw was set determinately. It made John grin slowly, malevolently, as he stared at him with hard eyes, no pliancy visible in his expression.

George didn't get a good look at the older boy until he and Paul stepped underneath the harsh lighting of a nearby lamp post. John hadn't bothered to stand up and he looked annoyed, his narrowed eyes menacing as he looked George over, thin lips pulled back into a smirk. The severity of the artificial light and the darkness of a cold and rainy Liverpool night created shadows that made John's pointed nose more prominent, making him look even more threatening to George, as if the whole teddy boy look hadn't been enough to do the job.