Chapter Text
John and Paul have always acted in a really strange way together. Not strange in a bad way, but as if they shared exactly the same mind, able to finish each other's sentences or sing the same guitar riff at the same time. It was nothing unusual, but it never escaped me or Ringo. I've known Paul longer than I've known John, and yet...
Except that for some time now, something has changed. Paul's still....Paul, but John has started to pull away, to talk to him less, to meet his expectations less. It was as if suddenly their minds and souls had parted without Paul knowing. Ringo probably hadn't noticed, but it struck me.
One evening after a hectic gig, I was sharing John's room, because Eppy was still trying to save money and prevented us from having 4 rooms.
John was at the window, a cigarette between his fingers. He was muttering a melody I hadn't heard yet, and I just assumed he had a new song in mind. I was sitting on my bed, reading a novel Paul lent me, and a question was niggling at me.
-"Is everything all right?"
John turned to me, exhaling tobacco-scented smoke into the room. He gave me a quizzical look, and replied simply.
-"Yes I'm fine, of course I'm fine. I'm fine all the time George"
I wasn't at all satisfied. Sure, he seemed fine, but I was sure something had changed. Maybe an argument? Or a sentence of Paul's that he didn't like?
-"Great. But is everything really all right?"
-"Are you obsessing about my sanity tonight, Hazza? I'm fine, I told you."
- "And with Paul, are you okay?"
John almost choked on the smoke. I was sure of it, something was wrong. But he just looked at me accusingly, not really angry though. He turned back outside, taking another drag on his cigarette. I was about to ask a question again, but he beat me to it.
-"I don't think so. But it's my fault if it's such a mess at the moment, with Paul."
- "Your fault?"
- "Yes. I've realised...that there're things that make it imperative that I get away from him."
I was very intrigued. I didn't want to stay in this unknown, so I had to ask more questions. But this seemed rather sensitive. I had to take precautions.
-"Really? But what's so strong that you're pulling away so much? You're inseparable, he adores you, I don't really see what's going on."
-"Nothing is his fault, I just don't want to frighten him."
-"Frighten him off? By what?"
He sighs, and crushes his cigarette on the windowsill. He tosses it into the ashtray, then grabs his pack and takes another cigarette, lighting it with a match. Then, finally, he answers in a voice that's detached but a little shaky around the edges.
-"By my feelings."
I look at him for a moment. His feelings? Do I understand? Do I...
-"Are you in love with him? With Paul? Is that what you're afraid of?"
-"Don't you dare laugh at me, George."
-"I'm not laughing, and I can't really say I'm surprised. I just didn't think that was what frightened you, that's all."
And it's true. John and Paul have always been John and Paul for a reason. They never separate, and when they do, they feel an infamous malaise that Ringo and I have to put up with; even Eppy sometimes! And then their looks, their 'ant game' during interviews, it was never a harmless thing in my eyes. They were hiding something and now I finally know what.
-"And so you're not going to tell him? I mean, at best he shares your feelings and that's really great, at worst he just tells you no and you're still as close as ever!"
-"It's not that easy! Paul's been my best friend for 8 years, and I don't always know what he's thinking. I don't know...I don't know if he thinks the same about me."
I sigh, and decide to get up, putting my book down as I bend the corner of my page. I join him by the window and take out my pack of cigarettes to grab one. I light it and take a long drag before looking up at John. His face is illuminated by the dim light from the street lamps outside, and he gives that rare impression of vulnerability.
-"John, I've known Paul since I was 12, and he's a bit like an older brother. I can only tell you that he won't reject you, even if he doesn't love you the way you love him."
- "How can you be so sure?"
- "I just know. Trust me and talk to him. It'll make you feel better too."
We continue chatting all night, consuming at least 5 or 6 cigarettes each. I've never spoken so openly to John. I learnt a lot and talked about a lot of things. I had the impression that John was becoming less impressive as the minutes went by, because I've always seen John as my idol. But I learnt a lot about his mother, his father, his years at school and even his Aunt Mimi. His doubts, his questions about life...
I also told him about myself, my own doubts and questions. I also told him, in the dim light of the new morning, that I like Ringo. He gives me the same advice I gave him earlier, which makes me laugh a little. Then we go to bed, even though the alarm goes off at 8am and it's 5am.
That night I slept well, unlike the following night, when this time I was sharing the room with Ringo, and the moans from the room next door made it impossible to sleep.
At least my advice paid off.