If I Fell│John Lennon/Beatles FanFiction

Chapter 10 - 15.Aug.1960

Chapter 10

August 15, 1960

It was late when I climbed the tree behind his house and shimmied my way onto the roof. The shingles were damp and slippery even though the misty rain had stopped a few hours before. The moon lit my way as I moved toward his window. He wasn't asleep like I thought he might be. Instead, he looked down at the floor where a few packed bags and a guitar case sat.

I watched him for a minute as he stared between his bags and his dresser as if trying to decide if he needed more clothing. When he finally collapsed onto his bed and pushed a hand into his hair, I rapped my knuckles against the glass.

His head turned toward the window, his wide, worried eyes meeting mine. I could see how rattled he was right away, even through the pane of glass. It was what I worried would happen, but I had to see him one more time before he left. With quick movements, he pushed the window open, gripped my arms, and pulled me through.

"Livvy–"

"I'm fine," I said dismissively, waving him off. I pushed off the bed and stood in the small amount of space not taken up by his things. "But I took another shift tomorrow, so I won't be able to see you off." Before he could say anything, I continued. "Need the damned money, don't I?"

Ever since he told me he was leaving, I'd been picking up extra shifts, because I had a plan, and that plan needed money. Even if it meant sagging off from my classes. It wasn't like my bleeding photo teacher liked me anyway.

"You're fine?" he asked, his eyes looking me over from top to bottom.

"I promise." I nodded several times to try to convince him. "He's pissed and passed out on the couch. Probably won't move till morning."

Things had been escalating at home, but I had only sought the safety of John's room once since he'd told me about Hamburg. Even that one night, we'd gotten into a row about me going with him. It sounded awfully similar to the fight we had in front of the cemetery. So I went back on my promise to John, but only because I wanted what was best for him. I began to keep my father's attacks to myself.

He pressed his lips together and nodded. Clearly, my description of my father did nothing to ease his worries.

"You can't come tomorrow?" he asked as he flopped his head onto his pillow. "Lads will be proper gutted you're not there."

"Oh yeah, I'm sure they'll be devvoed." Sarcasm dripped from my words. Sure, they would probably be a bit sad I wasn't there to wish them luck as they left in Allan's van, but I was sure they all had a million other things on their minds as they set off on this new adventure. Besides, I was shite at saying goodbye, and I didn't plan to even say it to John. "I've written them each a note. Wouldya mind givin' it to them?"

He looked at me through his glasses and scratched at his jaw. "Who am I? The bloody postal service?"

I cocked my head to the side and shook it. "I'll send them by mail then, ye proper wanker."

With an eye roll that I was surely going to miss, he said, "Put 'em there, Liv." He pointed at a bag.

"Cheers." I reached into my back pocket and shoved the letters into the bag.

"Oh sure, nothing's better than handing off love letters to me bandmates."

"That's right," I said, nodding. If John was going to be ridiculous, I could be too. "You should read the one I've written Paul. I've confessed my undying love for him."

He peered at me and crossed his arms over his chest. "You've even written one for Pete, I bet."

Pete Best was the drummer the lads had managed to poach from his band, the Black Jacks, just five days before they were to begin their series of gigs at the Indra Club in Hamburg. I wasn't sure John thought he was all that good, but he had a drum kit, and they needed a drummer as the owner of the club expected a five-piece band. He told me that Pete was able to keep one beat going for long enough, so that had to be good enough for now.