𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐞, john lennon

chapter one. "that's why i do."

francine and her best friend, pattie boyd, were walking home from school that day. the cold air smelled like crisp autumn leaves and rain toward the year's end, but the sun was still shining as bright—its warm golden rays hitting their skin gently. as they were chatting, pattie was sipping from her grape juice box and fran was bored out of her mind, skipping along the sidewalk and avoiding the cracks on the ground. the two of them lived merely two streets away, and as a result, they both walked to and from school together every single day.

"looks like my stop's here. see you tomorrow, fran!" pattie quickly gave her friend a hug before running off into her own home.

fran continued on walking, humming tutti fruitti by little richard, when she noticed a group of familar-looking boys approaching her. she guessed that they were from her school—as though some of them had leather jackets on, two of them were still wearing their unkempt school uniforms. they all wore that typical greased up and slicked back hairdo that had their curls bouncing off their foreheads.

"hey, davies, where you heading off to by yourself?" the blond one belted as they crossed paths. "none of your business, shotton!" she sneered at him and he started mimicking her before he was interrupted.

"shut it, pete." the one in shades shoves him, making pete shotton stumble backwards and into fran, which none of the boys seemed to take notice as fran was already behind them. "love of god, stu!" was the last thing fran could make out before her folder was chucked out of her arms and onto the sidewalk. the paperwork and assignments were scattered everywhere along the side of the road.

"christ." fran muttered and rolled her eyes, crouching down to pick up the pieces of paper that the wind was blowing away. those boys were just current nuisances to her life and she couldn't wait until next year, where she'd be studying abroad at a college in germany.

as she continues collecting the pages of her assignment, her mind starts wandering at the thought of meeting those proper, intelligent, gentle, and mature college guys that she could finally go out with—until her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the feeling of a warm and slightly bigger hand on her's.

she jumps at the startling feeling, and looks up to see john lennon knelt on one knee and holding page four of her literature homework. he notices that she was startled by him and quickly retracts his hand back into his jacket pocket. "oh, i'm sorry."

"um, here." john hands her the paper, scratching the back of his head. "and sorry again .. 'bout that. i'm sure they didn't mean it." he says in a proper manner, his husky but gentle tone of voice sounded warm in fran's ears and sent a shiver down her spine. she could feel his warm breath against her cheek whenever he spoke, and his piercing stare while he eyed her up and down, waiting for a response.

"tell them to watch where they're going next time." she scoffs and tucks a piece of hair that falls in front of her face behind her ear, avoiding eye contact with the boy. "will do." john says sarcastically, running his fingers along the pages of her homework in his hands, eyeing the poems she's jotted down on them.

fran stands back up and john follows. she dusts off and smooths her dark blue skirt before turning to john with her papers in his hand. he's already on the second page of her poetry homework. fran slowly and awkwardly grabs the paper from him, his hands letting go of the page as he smiles sheepishly and clears his throat.

"thanks, i guess." the shorter girl mutters softly, avoiding eye contact with the tall, dark, lad who was towering over her by no more than a few inches. "hey, where's your house?" john shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, toying with his pocket-sized swiss blade, something he did very often if he got fidgety.

"i can walk you home if you'd like." he shot a glance at her then looked back down at the floor. fran was looking up at the sky, wondering since when the stone-cold boy started acting like a gentleman.

"no thank you. i'm fine." her words came out sharply without a stutter, an underlying statement telling john to 'sod off,' and hoping to get him to leave her alone once and for all. "besides, aren't your mates wondering where you ran off to by now?"

"doesn't matter. they've caused me enough trouble today." john catches up and starts walking beside fran, keeping his eyes staring down at his shoes as he follows her pace.

john was a rather built guy who nearly stood six feet tall, making a lot of people in school intimidated by him. fran wasn't. she, similarly, would sometimes unintentionally come off as daunting or stuck up towards others, especially if you ever tick her off.

by this time, john had already taken out a cigarette from his jacket pocket and lit it, taking in the tobacco-filled air from the woodbine. the pair walked together on the smooth gray sidewalk in silence except for the occasional crunches made by the burnt-orange dry autumn leaves. still, the awkward tension in the air was remnant as fran tried to speed up her pace without john noticing, in order to make him subconsciously walk faster alongside her.

once in a while their shoulders would brush against each other noticeably, with both of them not reacting to it, careful to avoid making the situation more uncomfortable.

soon they near a familiar street, which appears to be the road where fran's place of abode was located, a burgundy house with a charcoal roof and a fence gate. an oak tree stood in their front yard with a swing tire hanging from one of its branches.

thank god finally. fran sighs in relief, waiting to get out of this prison of uneasiness that was consuming her whole.

after she unlocks the gate, she turns around to john, who was standing behind her and shuffling his feet. "thanks. again." mumbles the blonde girl, finally looking at him straight in the eye.

john does the same, his eyes firmly attached to hers. "anytime, mardy bum." he says and holds back an eye roll. "don't call me that." fran retorts without batting an eyelash, clearly annoyed at his usage of the nickname she particularly disliked.

"that's why i do." john says in a way of pointing out that same 'fran' tone of voice she always uses that he was plainly sick of. "do you have a problem with me? i just walked you home."

"i never asked you to walk me home."

he takes a slow drag of his cigarette, breathing out the gray fumes into the cold wind. "i only did 'cause of pete being a cock-up like he always is, but go off then."

"well then, i think you should've just went back to your cock-up mates and told them never to speak to me again." and with that she shuffles into the doorway and swings the door shut.

"arse." was the last thing john says before turning his heel and facing his back to this house that he was for sure never returning to. he tosses the woodbine behind him, the still lit cigar flying over the fence, landing on the grassy yard.