Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9269015.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Major_Character_Death, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      The_Beatles
  Relationship:
      John_Lennon/Paul_McCartney, John_Lennon_&_Paul_McCartney, Paul_McCartney/
      Julia_Lennon
  Character:
      John_Lennon, Paul_McCartney, Julia_Lennon, Stuart_Sutcliffe, Cynthia
      Lennon, Jim_McCartney, Julia_(John's_Sister), Mimi_Smith, Original
      Characters, George_Harrison, Pattie_Boyd
  Additional Tags:
      Age_Difference, John_is_17, Paul_is_42, Stepdad-Stepson_Relationship,
      Daddy_Kink, Alternate_Universe_-_1950s, McLennon, Angst_and_Fluff_and
      Smut, Paul_is_John's_stepdad, sort_of, John_is_a_troublesome_teen_with_an
      unhealthy_love_for_older_men, Paul_is_an_English_teacher, Don't_Like
      Don't_Read, Top_Paul, Bottom_John, Paul_tries_to_be_a_responsible_adult,
      Neither_John_Nor_Paul_Dies, Paul_is_dating_Julia, Slow_Build, Slow_Burn,
      John_is_too_damn_irresistible
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-01-14 Updated: 2017-11-06 Chapters: 6/? Words: 18669
****** What Feels Right/This Loving Game ******
by ImagineBeatles
Summary
     Paul and Julia have been going out for a while and now they’ve
     decided to move in together. What Paul hadn’t expected when he’d
     agreed was that he’d fall in love with her troublesome teenage son,
     John.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
***** Chapter 1 *****
The ring of the bell continued to echo in his mind for a long time after it had
stopped. The last of his students were gathering their things before
disappearing out of the door with a faint goodbye. Only a few seemed bothered
by the fact that their teacher didn’t even seem to hear them. Most of them
simply went without another glance to celebrate their few days of freedom. Paul
supposed a party would be happening that evening, judging by the enthusiastic
mutterings he had heard over the last two days.
“Are you alright, Mr. McCartney?” Paul looked up into the direction from where
the voice had been coming. One of his students was watching him curiously, as
if waiting for a reply. Only then did he realise she had asked him a question.
“Yes, I’m perfectly fine. Thank you, Miss Cox,” he answered quickly, smiling as
he did so.  The young girl smiled back, pushed her hair behind ear and muttered
shyly that she felt relieved to hear that. Another girl, who was standing
slightly behind her friend, didn’t seem too convinced by his answer yet,
however, and moved closer, her head circling around her friend’s shoulder.
“Are you sure, Mr. McCartney? You’ve been a bit out of it all day, or so it
seemed,” she told him. Paul’s smile widened at that. He always seemed to get
more attention than most teachers from his students, especially his female
ones, but still he was surprised whenever he heard his different behaviour
didn’t go unnoticed. He felt bad for not remembering her name at that moment.
“Yes, I suppose I need a couple of days off just as much as you do,” he said
with a chuckle, “Now, don’t worry about your stupid teacher and go enjoy the
weekend. I’ll see you both on Monday.” The girls nodded and picked up their
bags before heading out of the classroom. Paul smiled at himself as he watched
them go.
The real reason for why he hadn’t been able to focus too much on his lessons,
was something completely different, but he chose not to share much about his
personal life with his students. He was a private man, forty-two years of age
and now for the first time since he broke up with his last fiancée, he was
moving in with someone. For the first time in almost seven years he was going
to live with someone again. Finally he would be able to move out of that
terrible flat of his and move into a proper house and start a normal life
again. He would officially be moving in this weekend and he was supposed to
meet his girlfriend for tea to make arrangements in forty minutes. Come to
think of it, he couldn’t really afford to sit there much longer, staring at the
papers on his desks. He couldn’t be late.
After Paul had quickly thrown all his things in his large, leather bag, he
headed out of the old school building. It still felt odd, walking through the
doors as a teacher, when it wasn’t all that long ago that he had been a student
here himself. Or so it seemed. The thought made him feel old.
It was a warm autumn day. The sun was lowering and a warm breeze ruffled
through the yellow and red leaves. He took a deep breath and unwrapped his silk
scarf from his neck, deciding it was still too warm to be wearing that in late
September. He even unbuttoned his long, woollen, black coat. Quickly, he
descended down the stairs and went to the parking lot, where he had put his
bicycle against the iron gate that separated the school grounds from the city
centre of Liverpool. He could find his bicycle with ease this time. Normally,
some troublesome students enjoyed moving bicycles around so people had to look
for them. Luckily, he wasn’t today’s victim. After checking his watch one last
time, he got on and cycled off, not wanting to keep his girlfriend waiting.
All in all it didn’t take Paul long to find the coffee shop where he was
supposed to meet up with her. The street on which it was situated was slowly
filling up with people as more and more of them got off work and started to
enjoy their long awaited weekend. Still, he managed to cycle through the crowd
of people without riding into someone and soon found himself going inside the
coffee shop.
It was a cosy little place. In the centre of the room, against the wall, there
was a large bar and a couple of counters that had delicious-looking foods on
them. The rest of the room was filled with little wooden tables with light
floral tablecloths and white seats. On every table there was either a little
lamp or flowerpot. It was still quiet, with only a few people having some
coffee or tea. Therefore it wasn’t difficult for Paul to spot the familiar
redhead across the room. He smiled to himself and felt himself warm up from
within as he walked over to her and surprised her with a kiss on her cheek.
She tensed up at the sudden kiss, but as he muttered his hello against her
cheek, she relaxed in his arms and laughed playfully at the affection.
“It’s only me, you know,” Paul told her with a wink as he pulled away. She
chuckled and shook her head as he sat down opposite her.
“And how was I supposed to know that?” she asked. Paul shrugged.
“I don’t know, but we might have to find a solution if it becomes a problem.
You might start hitting me one day,” he said, making Julia laugh. A young woman
arrived at their table to take their orders. Julia said she’d already ordered
and Paul asked for a simple cup of coffee. Julia asked if he didn’t want
something to eat with it, but Paul declined.
“Your loss, then. I’m still having my slice of lemon cake,” she told him. The
waitress nodded and went off with his order. It wasn’t long until they were
both given their coffee and Julia her slice of lemon cake.
“Every woman deserves a treat every once in a while,” she said as she took her
first bite.
“Especially when she’s going to have to work very hard carrying boxes the next
day,” Paul added and Julia nodded.
“Without question. By the way, are you certain we won’t need any more people
helping us tomorrow? It will be a lot of work.” Paul shook his head.
“No. I don’t have that much stuff. And we don’t need to move any furniture.
Just the occasional bits and bobs,” he said as he took a sip of his coffee. It
was good coffee. Warm and bitter, but it had something sweet to it. He didn’t
even need to add much milk, which was odd, since he always put quite a bit of
milk in both his tea and coffee. He made a mental note for himself to go here
more often.
“Still,” Julia pushed on, “an extra hand wouldn’t hurt, would it?”
“Your sister and George will be helping.”
“Yes, but I don’t want to us to be busy packing and unpacking all day. I want
to enjoy our first day living together.” Paul smiled at the thought of their
first day and night together. He had been looking forward to it ever since they
had decided to take the next step and go for it. He had to admit that being
busy unpacking all day wouldn’t be the best way to spend that day.
“Then, why don’t you ask your son to help?” he suggested, smiling when Julia
made a face, thinking about how beautiful this woman was, even when making
silly faces.
“John? I don’t know…”
“Why not? He’s seventeen years old. I’m sure he could carry a few heavy boxes.”
“It’s not that. You know what he’s like. I’ve told you before, he’s not keen on
you already.”
“He hasn’t even met me!”
“That’s not the point,” Julia told him, chewing her lip. Paul sighed. He had
been going out with Julia for almost half a year now and he had known about her
son and daughter from the start. To be honest, he hadn’t been surprised. Not
many women in their late thirties didn’t have any kids. Especially beautiful
women like Julia. But even after all this time, she hadn’t allowed him to meet
John once, unlike her daughter, also named Julia, with whom he’s spent a couple
of happy afternoons. He had only seen the boy on a picture. He did look like
trouble, but Paul was a teacher. He worked with teenagers. He was certain he
could get on with John if he got the chance. He had told Julia that often
enough, but still she had refused.
“He needs to meet me some day, Julia. And it’s better not to do that over
breakfast Sunday morning,” he said, reaching for her hand and holding it in his
own.
“But what if he doesn’t like you? Or if he starts to cause trouble. He’s not as
easy to deal with as you think, Paul. He has never liked any of the men I've
brought home since his father had gone away. Not even Julia’s father. Sometimes
I think he still hopes he might come back.”
“Then we’ll deal with that later. He won’t start liking me if you won’t give us
a chance. And besides, I’ve met Julia already. She seems to adore me.” Paul
told her smugly. Julia smiled half-heartedly at him.
“Yes, because you keep giving her sweets whenever you come over.”
“I can bring some for John if you think that might help,” Paul offered only
half jokingly, “Come on, darling. I know he probably won’t like me at first,
but that’s normal. This kind of thing needs time. Especially at his age.”
“I don’t know, Paul. John isn’t the type to help you move in if he doesn’t like
you. He’s more likely to set your things on fire, if anything. Sweets or no
sweets,” Julia warned him, making Paul laugh. The more he heard about John the
more curious he got. He sort of understood what John was going through, though.
He had lost his mother at the age of fourteen and when his dad remarried, it
hadn’t been easy. But John couldn’t be as bad as Julia made him out to be.
“Come on, luv. Just ask him. Maybe he’ll like to help. And if not, than that’s
okay. I could meet him at dinner after we’ve finished unpacking, if you prefer?
At least my stuff will be safe then,” Paul joked. He could see Julia think
about it from across the table. She rubbed her forehead and took another bite
of her cake, before sighing. With a reluctant nod she gave into him.
“Fine,” she said, “but if anything goes wrong, it’s your fault.”
“I can live with that,” Paul agreed with a self-satisfied smile and drank some
more of that delicious coffee that was still waiting for him.
***** Chapter 2 *****
John awoke that morning by the sound of something tapping against his bedroom
window. With great effort he managed to open his eyes. It must have been early,
no later than eight o ‘clock, which yes, was early considering it was Saturday
morning and John was not at all a morning person. A watery, dim light shone
through an opening in the curtains into the room, lighting up everything just
enough for John to see without turning on the lights. The tapping continued.
After a minute of wiggling around in his bed with his eyes tightly shut, John
threw the blankets off him and moved over to the window to make the irritating
noise stop. Sliding the curtain aside, John greeted the young lad standing
below his window, who was throwing rocks into his direction, with a raised
middle finger and a glare. The young lad simply smirked up at him and waved,
which made John chuckle. He closed the curtain again and started to undress.
Knowing his mother, he had to hurry up. She wasn’t up early often, but she
still managed to wake him up doing the most ridiculous things when she had
something important planned that day, like vacuuming or doing the dishes while
singing rock ‘n roll songs for all the neighbourhood to hear. Besides, this day
was important to her. John couldn’t blame her really. So far the guy didn’t
seem like a complete dick, but he hadn’t seen him yet, so his judgement wasn’t
fully made up, yet. Still, he didn’t like the fact some unknown guy was moving
in with them.
Grabbing a pair of black drainpipe trousers from his desk chair and a simple
white shirt out of his closet, he quickly dressed himself and combed his hair,
adding gel where needed and messing it up again by running his fingers through
it. He grabbed his package of smokes and a box of matches from his desk,
putting them in his pockets, before softly opening the door and stepping
outside. His leather jacket was downstairs already, he knew. He held his breath
and listened closely as he shut the door behind him. He didn’t want Julia to
wake up. She’d tell him to stay and help unpacking, he knew, which he didn’t
want to do.
He had seen many men come by and go in the last ten or something years and none
had stayed for long. Sometimes only a week or two, but usually never more than
three months. Not even Julia’s father had stayed for longer than a year and two
months, which John supposed that might even be long, considering. But this one
had actually held on for a while. Still, John knew it wouldn’t last. He had
decided two boyfriends ago that he would not bother with them any longer. His
mother deserved much better than the men she usually brought home. They would
always let him down, and more importantly his mother. If only she would see she
wasn’t worth the guys’ time. John hoped she’d see it sooner rather than later.
If he was lucky she’d see it this coming week. He knew there would be something
about this guy that would cause them to break up, again, as always. There
always was. Perhaps he’d snore? His mum hated people who snore, he knew. They
kept her awake.
John waited for two seconds, holding his breath, before he tiptoed to the
stairs and descended them, careful not to make a noise and wake his mother up.
He skipped the third, sixth, seventh and last step, knowing those creaked from
years of experience, and managed to make it down without a single noise. He
spotted his leather jacket on the coat rack and pulled it on. He moved his
cigarettes from his pants to the pockets of his jacket. Then he bent down to
put on his shoes. He kept his ears peaked all the while. It would be such a
shame to get busted now. He was so far, the door and guaranteed freedom just
within reach. Once he got his shoes on, he lit himself a ciggy and sneaked over
to the kitchen to grab himself a slice of bread to eat on the way. He doubted
Stuart had remembered to bring any food.
“I always have to do everything myself…’ John muttered, while taking a drag
from his ciggy as he walked into the kitchen. He stared down at the floor and
his ciggy as he went for the bread that Julia kept in a basket at the edge of
the kitchen counters. John almost jumped two feet in the air when he heard a
voice next to him, no more than three feet away.
"John!” a soft, cheery voice greeted him, “You’re up early, love. Ready to help
your mum today?” John cursed quietly to himself, regretting the fact that he
had not checked if the kitchen had been empty before stepping inside. He didn’t
like saying no to his mother. He didn’t mind not helping, but refusing her was
something he’d rather not have to do.
“Actually, mum, I am meeting up with Stuart and Cynthia this morning. We have
some work to go over together for college,” John lied. He immediately felt bad.
He didn’t like to have to lie to his mother. Not when it wasn’t necessary. John
knew she’d let him go anyway, even if it wasn’t needed for school but just to
hang out. Like himself, she found it difficult to say no.
“Oh, that’s a shame. There are some boxes that are terribly heavy and I was
hoping my strong man would lend us a hand,” his mother tried, but John shook
his head.
“Sorry. Stu's already waiting outside. Besides, you got your new man to help
you now, don’t you?” That last came out a lot more bitter than John had
intended. He stared down at the piece of bread in his hands and quickly took a
bite, hoping his mother hadn’t noticed. Luck wasn’t with him today, however.
“John, please. I know you don’t want him to move in, but you could at least try
to make it work. And you would never be replaced, you know that, don’t you?”
she said.
John shrugged. “I suppose so.”
“I love you, you know. This won’t change that.”
“I know, Mum. I’m not a little kid. I’m not stupid,” John said, but deep down
he wasn’t so sure. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d put a guy before him.
She had told him she regretted it, but from then on John wasn’t sure if he
could trust her not to do so again. It scared him, sort of, not being able to
trust his mum in that respect. He stuffed the last of the bread in his mouth,
grabbed his bag, which he had put in the corner the evening before because he
knew dragging it downstairs with him would make too much noise, and wrapped an
arm around his mother’s shoulder, holding her tightly against him.
“I love you. If things move quickly, I’ll help this afternoon, okay?” he
promised her, though he knew there was no way he was going to do that.
Apparently his mother knew so to, because she forced him to stay with her a
little longer, wrapping an arm around his waist and holding him tightly.
“Alright. But you have to promise me to be here for dinner. I want you to meet
our new room mate,” she told him. John tried hard to hold back a groan, but he
failed. “You’ll have to meet him someday, John. Tonight. Or else I’ll hold your
allowance for two weeks, got it?”
“Yes, Mum. I’ll be there. Now, can I go?”
“Promise me first.”
“I promise.” And with those words, he was released. He kissed her cheek one
last time, her red hair tickling his chin, before placing his ciggy back
between his lips and turning on his heels to escape before his mother would
change her mind.
“Love you!” she shouted after him. John merely grunted in reply, letting the
front door fall close behind him with a loud bang.
“What took you so long, Lennon?” Stuart shouted at him from outside the garden
gate. The scouse accent heavy on his tongue. John walked down the path through
the front garden to where Stuart was standing on the pavement. He couldn’t see
much of him, since he wasn’t wearing his glasses, but he noticed the guy wore
his classic sunglasses again, even though it was rather cloudy. His black hair
was combed back and he too wore a pair of drainpipes with a simple shirt,
though his was white with blue stripes. The edges of his trousers were rolled
up once and something that looked like a blurry white line dangled between
Stuart’s fingers. John guessed it was a ciggy. His suspicions were proved right
when Stuart lifted it and took a long drag.
“Fuck off, Stu. My mum woke up before I did so I couldn’t sneak out. You try
getting past her, I dare you,” John told him with an amused grin on his face.
“Oh really? You know what I think, Lennon? You’re getting weak on her. That’s
why you’re late.” Stuart laughed and John laughed along.
“Haha, you wish! She’s worse than my auntie Mimi, I tell you.”
“Of course, John. So you’re having dinner with me at the pub tonight?” Stuart
asked knowingly.
“Fuck off…” John muttered, pushing Stuart off the curb by shoving him by his
shoulder, as he took another drag from his ciggy.
“Fucking knew it. Weak, I tell you. Soon you’ll be combing her hair while
singing lullaby’s,” Stuart teased once he found his balance again. John
couldn’t help but laugh along with him.
 
                                      ***
 
“So, is Cyn there already, or what?” John asked as they slowly walked through
the streets of Liverpool. It wasn’t a long walk to the cemetery where they
would be meeting up with Cynthia. John was already looking forward to it. It
had been a while since they had last met up together, just the three of them.
“Yeah. I think she is,” Stuart replied, “Why? Don’t tell me you’re already into
some of that chocolate she always drags along!” John grinned at him and nodded.
He laughed when Stuart began to make gagging noises, pretending to be throwing
up at the thought of it.
“Ugh… I can’t understand how you and Cynthia can eat chocolate as early as half
past nine! It’s disgusting. Unholy some might say!” He sounded truly disgusted.
John merely grinned at him.
“Not you, though, eh?” he teased. Stuart snickered and took another drag from
his ciggy.
“Couldn’t even if I wanted to, Johnny,” he said overly dramatically, “Not with
all the foul and unholy things I’ve done. I might be trouble, but I’m no
hypocrite.” John snickered at that, knowing fully well what his friend was
hinting at. Still, John couldn’t wait to see Cynthia again. She always brought
a piece of chocolate with her for them to share and in John’s opinion it was
the best chocolate he’d ever tasted. He’d have some at any time of the day. No
matter how early in the morning or late at night. He was worse than her, even,
in that respect.
“Still, though. You might be a little. At least I don’t eat peanut butter
sandwiches with bacon. Now that’s nauseating just to think about,” John shot at
him with a laugh.
“Shut up. It’s a delicious culinary meal that a simple fool like you simply
won’t understand.”
“Yes, because you have to be nuts to even think about eating it. No one in
their right mind would come up with such a combination. Like many other high-
end culinary foods.” Stuart stayed quiet, after that. Only muttering something
heated under his breath, which John couldn’t hear so he simply decided that he
had won their little argument. They turned around a corner and John could
already see the gates to the cemetery at the end of the street. Cynthia’s
bicycle was indeed parked against the gate.
As the two boys walked among the graves, quietly talking to each other so they
wouldn’t bother the dead, they searched for any signs of where Cynthia would
be. The cemetery wasn’t large, so it would only be a matter of time before they
would spot her.  Slowly the air around them warmed up as the sun crept higher
and higher up in the sky, creating shadows on the many graves. John hummed a
silent tune to himself and kept his gaze mostly on the ground. Therefore, it
wasn’t odd when Stuart spotted her first.
“John!” he shouted suddenly, making him jump. A few people turned their heads
towards the pair of them with annoyed looks on their faces. John hurried over
to where his friend stood, ignoring them.
“She’s over there. Come on,” Stuart continued, seemingly unaffected by the
looks of the strangers around him as he pointed between two rather thick trees.
John couldn’t see much further, so he simply nodded and shuffled after Stuart,
still looking down, trying to see where he was putting his feet. It wouldn’t be
the first time he’d stumble over a root of a tree that was creeping up above
the ground. Or even a grave.
Suddenly Stuart stopped, causing John to almost walk into him.
“Sorry…” John muttered as Stuart shot him an annoyed look.
“You’re too stubborn for your own good, I swear,” he told him, his voice full
of disappointment. John simply smirked at him, knowing his friend was only
joking. And besides, he knew he was. It wasn’t weird that his aunt always
seemed to shout at him that he should wear his glasses.
“Morning, Cyn,” Stuart said to the pretty girl sitting on a gravestone in front
of them. He moved to sit on the ground next to her.
“Morning, Stu,” she greeted. The corners of her mouth curled up as she lifted
her head to look at John. “And good morning to you, John.”
“Miss Powell,” John replied, making a courteous bow to her, which made her
giggle. He moved to sit next to her on the stone, and kissed her cheek.
“You look as beautiful as always.”
“How would you know, you’re not even wearing your glasses.”
“Even a blind man could see your beauty, Miss Powell.”
“So it appears.”
“Ugh... You two make me sick. Now shut up or I’m leaving,” Stuart interrupted
them, earning himself a glare from his friend. Cynthia simply reached into her
pocket and got out an opened chocolate bar. She broke off a piece and handed it
to John.
“Here, this will keep you quiet,” she told him. John faked a laugh, but quickly
took the chocolate from her, afraid she might refuse him if he was mean to her.
“Oh, how delicious! Chocolate at nine o'clock in the morning,” Stuart commented
sarcastically.
“You want a piece?” John asked him, smirking as offered him his piece of
chocolate. Stuart made a disgusted face, sticking his finger down his throat
while he faked gagging, earning himself a snicker from Cynthia.
“Really, though. Sometimes I do wonder why I’m even hanging out with you both,”
he said with a grin, feeling smug for making Cynthia laugh, after removing his
finger from his mouth.
“It’s because you love me,” John told him, blinking rapidly and waving at him
flirtatiously. This time it was Stuart’s turn to laugh.
“Ha! If only,” he replied.
“You’ll realise it soon enough,” John said smugly, before popping his piece of
chocolate into his mouth. He hummed as it melted on his tongue, the taste of it
invading his mouth.
“Speaking of love, isn’t you mum moving in with her new boyfriend today? Or is
that next week?” Cynthia asked, changing the subject so she didn’t have to
listen to their childish banter any longer and could actually join the
conversation. She looked up at John with a curious expression, who sighed, but
nodded anyway.
“Yes,” he said as he had swallowed down the chocolate, “if it wasn’t for you
two, I’d be helping unpacking now. Or at least have that pervert drooling over
me in attempt to get me to like him.” John shuddered visibly at the thought,
remembering his mother’s second to last boyfriend. He still had nightmares
about that guy. With that disgusting little beard of his.
“Oh, come on, John. He can’t be that bad,” Cynthia said.
“Can’t he?”
“I know the guy. Well, Maureen does, anyway. He’s her English teacher and she
tells me he’s actually an alright guy. Pretty cute, too,” Cynthia said, pulling
down her grey woollen skirt that came just above her knee. She always felt a
little shy when speaking about guys around Stuart and John. Especially ones
that were older and she found attractive, knowing John would tease her with it
or disagree with her and lecture her on who were and were not attractive.
“Cute?” Stuart asked, one of his eyebrows raised almost comically high.
“Well, according to Maureen, that is. Actually, all the girls find him
attractive. Or so I’ve heard. I’ve never seen him, though,” Cynthia said,
nodding.
“Well, I suppose it might be nice if your new daddy is good-looking. It’s
better than having to look at a repulsive face all the time that makes you want
to throw up everything you’ve eaten.”
“He’s not my new 'daddy', Stu. And he never will be,” John shot at his friend.
“And I heard he’s into Rock 'n Roll,” Cynthia quickly continued, not wanting
John and Stuart to get into an argument. “According Pete he is a big fan of The
King.”
“Well, he can have that. I still don’t like him, though.”
“You haven’t even met him yet!” Stuart pointed out.
“I don’t need to. Besides, what’s the point? In a couple of weeks they’ll break
up anyway. That is what always happens.”
“Still, John. What if he does stick around?” Stuart asked. Cynthia nodded in
agreement.
“Yes, and besides, he might not be that bad. Judging from what I’ve heard. You
ought to give him a chance,” she told him. John bit the inside of his cheek.
Somewhere he knew his friends were right, but he didn’t want to admit it.
Besides, they hadn’t needed to put up with all those other boyfriends that had
come and gone. John was sick of it. He had heard all of these stories before.
And so far it had brought him nowhere. Of course he wished his mother actually
found someone, but he had given up on hoping that this one was the one. He
wished he could just ignore it and wait silently until the guy left again.
“And why should I? It didn’t help with the others,” John snapped, hoping to get
the others to shut up about it. But Cynthia didn’t seem in the least bit
bothered by it.
“Because, John, your mother deserves some happiness too after your father left
and you won’t make that easy for her by hating her boyfriends for simply
existing,” she explained sternly. John swallowed thickly and stayed quiet at
that, knowing he wasn’t going to win this argument. The others also seemed to
understand John had given in, but for Cynthia the mere knowledge wasn’t enough.
“John, promise me you’ll at least give him a chance. For your mother at least,”
she said. John hummed something incomprehensible back at her.
“John!” she pushed on, nudging her friend in the ribs with her elbow.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be nice. But if  I don’t like him after dinner this evening,
it’s over,” he agreed, rubbing his side. From the corner of his eye he saw
Cynthia smiling smugly to herself, but he didn’t say anything.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The remaining hours of the day he, Cynthia and Stuart spent by simply having
fun. Neither felt the need to bring up the issue of Julia’s new boyfriend
moving in, which was a relief. They went out for fish and chips and spent a
large chunk of the afternoon at the record store, skimming through music and
finding new songs he and Stuart could play with their band. The songs they had
picked out weren’t that great, but John didn’t really care. Sure, he had had
the dream to break through with this band and become ridiculously famous - like
Elvis - but he had given up on that idea long ago. He’d make it on his own, he
hoped. The only other member who could actually play was the drummer, Ringo.
John and him had spoken about starting something up with just the two of them
and hold auditions. Still, it remained a plan that had no chance of ever
happening. They weren’t stupid. No one would have them. Besides, there were
plenty of rock ‘n roll bands in Liverpool, and neither ever got the chance to
become famous, so the chance that they would was minimal. They simply missed
something, but neither he nor Ringo knew what exactly.
It was almost dinner time and John was walking home alone. He really didn’t
want to go home. No matter what Stuart and Cynthia had said, he still did not
feel like meeting his mum’s new boyfriend. They didn’t know what it was like.
It didn’t matter whether or not he liked Rock ‘n Roll, never mind that he was
good-looking.
John sighed as he saw a strange car parked in front of his house. He tried to
kick a rock against it, but missed. Groaning, he looked around for another rock
to kick, but he couldn’t find one.
“John! There you are!” A voice suddenly came from behind him, “For a moment I
was afraid you’d let your mother down and not show up at all.” John rolled his
eyes, before turning towards his aunt with a fake smile.
“Of course not, Mimi. What sort of person do take me for?” he asked her,
pretending to be offended.
“You know very well what sort of person I think you are, John. You’ve let me
down more than once and don’t pretend it is any other way,” she told him, her
voice as stern ever, “And where are you glasses?” John sighed loudly so that
his aunt could hear and fished his Buddy Holly glasses out of the inside pocket
of his leather jacket. Reluctantly he put them on as he noticed his aunt was
still looking at him. He shot her a funny look, which Mimi simply ignored.
“Good. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, help me get these last two boxes inside. I’m
sure your mother will be more than pleased to see you’ve finally decided you’d
join us.” She told him as she walked over to the remaining two boxes.
“Yes, Mimi,” John said with faked obedience in his voice, and walked over to
her. He picked one box up, and, before turning around and going inside, he
pecked her on the cheek. His aunt tutted and ushered him on into the house, but
John could see she was hiding a smile.
“John! I thought I had heard your voice. Oh thank you, sweetie. I’ll have
George bring it upstairs.” John was greeted as soon as he set one foot in the
house. He saw his mother peering into the hallway from the kitchen and point at
the box in his hand as she called for said George. An older man, probably in
his late thirties appeared in the doorway. He was terribly skinny with high,
sharp cheekbones and sunken in cheeks. His dark brown hair was messy and his
chin and jaw was covered by a beard. From his lips hung a cigarette. He didn’t
say much and simply nodded kindly at John as he took the box from him. Without
another word he turned back around and climbed up the stairs.
“Do you want a cuppa?” John heard his mother ask him from the kitchen. He
looked away from the strange man who was apparently George and walked into the
kitchen. He had expected that his mother’s new boyfriend would be sitting at
the breakfast table, sipping coffee, but the kitchen was empty, apart from his
mother. It was an utter mess and John was certain his aunt would never set a
foot in this kitchen again if Julia didn’t disinfect it at least three times
first.
“Thanks, mum,” John said as he sat down at the table, pushing away some old
newspapers and things that he had never seen before.“So, who’s George?”
“Friend of Paul’s,” Julia answered, sounding both cheerful and exhausted.
“He doesn’t really say much, does he?” John asked. Julia turned to him, two
steaming mugs of tea in her hand, and put one down in front of him.
“No, he doesn’t. Still, he’s a nice guy. Funny, too,” she told him as she sat
down opposite him. John thanked her for the tea and took a sip.
“Apparently, he and Paul met in school. They sat together on the bus and they
stayed friends ever since. Even when Paul lived in London for nine years.”
"London?” John looked up at his mother with sincere curiosity. He always wanted
to go to London. He’s never even left Liverpool. Well, only to visit family in
Scotland, but that didn’t count. Not really. It’s not travelling when you take
your family with you. He’d love to go to London one day. Perhaps even go to
university there, after he’s finished college and passed his classes, which
might prove to be tricky, considering his grades and so called ‘disruptive
behaviour’.
“… ask him. You might actually learn from him. You two are not that different,
really.” John blinked a couple of times at his mother, not having realised she
had been talking and now he hadn’t understood at all what she was talking
about.
“Sorry? What?”
“I said, you’re not to different. Since he went to London to get famous and
rich, too. Like you’re planning on doing. Music is everything to him.” John
hummed in acknowledgement and took another sip from his tea. He and the guy
were probably nothing alike. It was only a trick to try to get him to like him,
but John knew all the tricks and he wouldn't fall for them again.
“So, where is he now, Prince Charming? Putting his white horse in the stables?”
John joked. He had hoped to get a rise out of his mum for it, but instead she
laughed.
“No. Actually, he’s off to the shops with your sister. He promised to make
dinner this evening,” she said. John scoffed. A guy who could cook, no wonder
his mum had gone for him. She absolutely hated cooking. Except for baking. She
loved baking. If it wasn’t for his aunt, John would have been one chubby kid
when he had been younger.
“Anyway, you enjoy your tea. I’m going to help with the last couple of things.
Oh and could you at least help by cleaning the kitchen? I’m not too sure what
to expect from Paul’s cooking skills, but I want him to have enough space to
work with,” Julia asked as she got up. John nodded and drank some more off his
tea as he watched her move about in the kitchen, gathering some final things in
an empty box, before turning around and heading for the hallway.
“Sure, mum.”
“Thanks, love,” she said as she leaned over to plant a kiss on top of John’s
head, “And be nice when Paul comes back. Tell him we’re upstairs if he needs
us.” John simply nodded and watched as his mother disappeared out of the
kitchen. He waited until he had heard the last step of the stairs creek, before
he let his head fall down on the kitchen table with a loud groan.
John didn’t see his mother’s boyfriend before dinner. He was in his room when
the doorbell rang and decided someone else would open the door for him. Sure
enough, his mother soon walked down the hallway and down the stairs. John
suppressed the urge to sneak downstairs to have a quick peek at the mystery
guy, who according to Cynthia was kind of cute. Half-heartedly he continued to
play some of the new songs he and Stuart had picked out in the store that
afternoon. He would not admit, however, to stopping when he heard Julia and him
go up the stairs, talking. Neither would he admit that by the sound of it, Paul
actually did seem like an alright kind of guy, with the kind way he was talking
to his little sister. A lot nicer and funnier than any of the others John had
and hadn’t met.
“John is in his room,” he had heard his mother say. “You can meet him at
dinner.”
“Don’t you think it would be easier if I met him now? Before dinner, I mean.
You know, to avoid a food fight,” the kind-sounding man had asked. His sister
had snickered at that and even John found himself smiling and secretly hoping
he could meet him before dinner, but Julia said it wasn’t a good idea.
“You’re the boss,” Paul had said and had left it at that. No pushy behaviour,
no power-play, no sarcastic jokes, no stupidity, nothing mean about him or
Julia. But John didn’t really care, of course. He still didn’t want that man
here. And him being a nice guy only meant his mum would be hurt even more when
they did finally break up. Besides, perhaps he was just pretending to be nice,
but would be the worst person when Julia was not around. Like those stepmothers
in those fairy tales. That had to be it, right? Definitely.
He had been too deep in thought about the matter to hear his bedroom door open.
It wasn’t until his sister flicked his glasses with her finger, that he noticed
her.
“Hey. Don’t flick them, alright. You’re insulting Buddy Holly. You don’t want
to do that, do you?” John asked as a greeting, a playful smile on his lips.
Jules smiled and shook her head.
“No, I like his music,” she said with a shrug.
“Good girl!” John praised her, ruffling her hair in a brotherly gesture, making
her shriek and try to pull away from him, but instead of letting her go, he
grabbed her arm hard enough to make it impossible for her to move away, but not
enough to hurt. She continued to struggle, laughing as John put his guitar
aside and pulled her onto the bed with him.
“Haha! I got you!” He laughed, wrapping his arms around her and holding her
down as she struggled for freedom. John grinned down at her and removed one arm
in order to tickle her.
“Stop! Stop! Oh John! Stop, you’re tickling me!” she cried out, struggling even
harder against him. John laughed evilly as he continued his assault.
“I’ll stop if you stop struggling,” he told her and almost immediately she
stopped. John stopped tickling and released her, pushing his hair out of his
face.
“I’m telling mum, you know,” Jules threatened, her face flushed pink and her
blond hair messed up.
“No, you’re not,” John said, smirking. She smirked back at him, and at moments
like these he saw most clearly that she was his sister. She had that same
mischievous look in her eyes. He sat back on the bed and helped her sit down
next to him.
“Would you play something for me?” she asked sweetly, pointing at his guitar
that lay forgotten next to the bed on the floor.
“Sure. If you tell me what Paul is like.”
                                      ***
Jules hadn’t been able to tell him much about Paul. She said she liked him and
that he brought her sweets and was actually funny. He didn’t treat her like a
child, which she liked, being almost ten now. Still, she hadn’t told him much
he didn’t know already, but he hadn’t thought she’d be giving him much new
information, anyway, so he was not too disappointed. It was at least good to
know that he wasn’t a prick towards her. Not even when in the supermarket and
Julia wasn’t anywhere near. She liked him a lot more than any of the other men
Julia had introduced to them, for which John was glad. It wasn’t good for a
girl her age to have to deal with this shit. He wasn’t sure if he liked the
fact that his little sister actually got along with his mother’s new catch,
though.
He tried not to think about the man cooking in the kitchen downstairs, as he
played a few songs for Jules. He tried not to think about the fact that he
would soon be alone with him, his mother and his sister, when his aunt came in
to say goodbye. He tried to stay calm and not let his mouth water when the
delicious smell of good food swirled up the stairs and into his little bedroom.
Still, he felt nervous when his mother called up from below the stairs that
dinner was ready.
“Coming, mum!’ John called back at her before finishing the song he had been
playing. After Jules had applauded him, he put his guitar aside and bowed to
her. They lingered around in his room a little while longer, as not to come
across as too eager when they’d be coming down stairs.
After a minute or two, they slowly headed down stairs. He could hear clear
voices from the kitchen. A man’s and a woman’s. His mother’s and her
boyfriend’s. John swallowed down his nerves and walked into the kitchen with a
straight back and his head up, knowing first impressions were everything.
"Ah, John. Jules. Please, sit down,” their mother greeted them as she pointed
at a chair at the head of the table next to her. John nodded and sat down. His
sister took the chair next to their mother. The man hadn’t looked up from the
stove yet, and he had his back turned to John, so John couldn’t see him yet. He
looked tall, with very dark brown hair, almost black, cut in such a way that it
was just a tad bit too long. It had already started to get grey at the top. As
he turned around, John quickly looked away from him and down at his plate. The
man put down two pans on the table. John only looked up again as he said his
name.
“You must be John. I’m Paul,” the older man said, introducing himself and
offering John his hand.  John shook it reluctantly. He didn’t say anything in
reply, though. Paul didn’t seem in the least bit bothered by that, however, and
simply sat down at the table opposite Julia, who offered them all a glass of
wine and apple juice for Jules, before sitting down as well. She smiled
apologetically at him, John saw, which he supposed had something to do with the
lack of words that were coming out of his mouth. Not that he cared, of course.
“It surely smells delicious, Paul. Doesn’t it, John?” Julia asked him, but John
simply hummed. Julia kicked him from underneath the table.
“Yes! Yeah, delicious,” John quickly said, glaring at his mother, who simply
ignored him.
“Thank you,” Paul said, a light blush on his cheeks, but it could have been the
heat from the stove.
John had to admit that the guy had something feminine about him. He had large,
hazel puppy eyes with perfectly shaped eyebrows, which John was certain he
plucked, and pink, pouty lips.  His cheeks were chubby and rounded as he
smiled. His features were delicate and even from this distance John noticed how
ridiculously long his eyelashes were. Although he was supposedly already in his
late thirties or very early forties, the guy had barely any wrinkles, except
for around his eyes, making him look younger than he was. John supposed some
might call him cute and pretty and handsome. When Paul sat back down and turned
to look at him, John noticed he had been staring. He didn’t avert his eyes,
however. Hoping it would make him uncomfortable. Obviously it didn’t, for Paul
simply smiled at him and asked him a question.
“Sorry, what did you say?” John asked him, not having heard.
“I said: Julia tells me you’re in art college,” Paul repeated, not in the least
bit bothered by John’s behaviour. John sighed, but nodded. He didn’t feel like
talking about school. Everybody always thought it was a big deal. Even his
classmates thought it was a big deal, which it wasn’t. At least, to John it was
not. The teachers didn’t understand him or his art, so why bother, right? He
was going to be famous, anyway. Someday. Soon.
“You enjoying yourself there?” Paul asked. John blinked a couple of times,
being taken-aback by the question.
“I suppose so, yes. Could be better. Could be worse. Beats maths, I’d say,”  He
answered. Paul nodded at that.
“I know what you mean. I always hated school. Teachers are the worst aren’t
they?” He laughed, but John merely rolled his eyes.
“I like my teacher,” Jules brought into the conversation, but John ignored her,
cutting in before Paul could direct his attention to her.
“Are you trying to relate to me so that I will like you?” John asked bluntly,
making both his mother and Paul look up with surprised expressions.
“What makes you think that? Nobody likes school. I consider myself authority
enough to say that, seeing as I’ve spent most of my life there.”
“I know the tricks, you know. Every adult does it. It’s always the same.
Besides, you’re a teacher yourself. Why would you work at a school and become a
teacher when you fucking hate it?”
“John! Mind your language, please!” Julia shot at him as she nodded at his
sister, kicking him again underneath the table. John simply ignored her. So did
Paul.
“I suppose I’m enough of a masochist, then,” he said playfully, turning towards
Julia to wink at her. John didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing
and simply sat there, baffled.
“Now, who want to try some of my cooking. I’ve been told it’s good and no one
died of it yet, I assure you.”
John didn’t say much during dinner, trying to keep his word to Cynthia as best
as he could. He noticed his mother giving him an angry eye, but he didn’t care.
He simply ignored her and Paul and silently ate his dinner as he let them talk
to each other, knowing that as long as everyone survived dinner, Cyn couldn’t
nag him about his behaviour. The food was fine. Simple potatoes with peas and
chicken. Nothing too special, but John had to admit it tasted pretty good.
Better than expected certainly, and much better than his mother’s cooking. He
tried to eat slowly, however, not wanting to let either his mother or Paul know
he was enjoying it. He simply ate it and stared at his plate, looking up to
study the new man’s face every so often or to say something to his sister.
John couldn’t get over how the guy looked. So feminine. It was weird, but John
couldn’t say he truly hated it. But if it wasn’t for the fact that he was
holding his mother’s hand right now, he would have sworn his guy was queer, had
he seen him walking in the street.
“Anyway, how was your day, John?” John suddenly heard his mother ask him. He
dragged his eyes away from the other man and turned to look at his mother, who
was looking at him intensely, her gaze digging right through him.
“It was fine,” he answered quickly, knowing better than to be smart when she
was looking at him like that. He continued to eat as his mother continued to
ask him questions, hoping she would stop soon and leave him be.
“Is Stuart still planning on going abroad?”
“Not sure. Haven’t asked him.”
“He should, you know. Go to Paris or Germany.”
“I’ll tell him that.”
“Or London at least. He could learn a thing or two over there. Is he still into
abstract art?”
“Yes, mum.”
“You should ask him to help you with that school assignment.”
“Yeah, mum, I will. You sound like Mimi.”
“John?” his mother asked. John looked up from his plate, swallowing the piece
of potato he had been chewing on. She was looking at him with a slight grin on
her face. John knew that grin. He used it too. Slightly afraid, he waited for
her to continue her question.
“Paul knows a lot about art as well. Maybe he can have a look and help you. He
is an English teacher…” she suggested overly sweetly. John scoffed at the mere
thought.
“Fuck no!” he said, laughing, before he knew what he was doing.
“John!” His mother gasped loudly at that. John simply shrugged. Now that he’d
fucked up, what the hell, right?
“What? Just because he’s your boyfriend, doesn’t mean I have to like him, do I?
You’ll break up within a week anyway. It’s not worth the time. And neither is
it yours,” he told her.
“John!”
“What? It’s true. That what always happens.”
Julia groaned and buried her head in his hands. John felt his throat tighten.
Still, he wasn’t going to waste his time on a guy who’d be gone soon.
“John, how-” Julia started, but John interrupted her.
“No. I’m not going to do it. I don’t care what you say, nor what Cyn says,” he
said, looking from his mother to Paul and back again, deciding to fuck it all.
No going back now! His sister was staring at him with huge eyes. His mother
just held her head in her hands and looked down at her plate.  John could see
her shoulders going up and down with her heavy breathing as she tried to
control herself. Paul leaned over to her to lay a hand on her shoulder, but she
pushed him away.
“John, go upstairs,” Paul ordered. John stared at him, not believing he was
telling him what to do.
“No fucking way. This is my house. You’re not my father. You can’t tell me what
to do!” he told him angrily, planting his hands down on the table with force,
causing the silverware and the plates to jump and clatter. Jules jumped in her
seat, still staring at him with huge eyes.
“You’re upsetting your mother and sister. Go upstairs,” Paul continued,
seemingly not bothered by John’s words.
“Oh, I’m upsetting them! Well, if you weren’t here there wouldn’t be anything
to be upset about.”
“John Lennon-!” Paul started, his voice low and loud, as if he was talking to a
student misbehaving at school, but Julia came between both.
“John, please go upstairs,” she simply said. John stared at her. She was
massaging her temples and looking at him from the corner of her eye.
“But-”
“Upstairs!” she suddenly screamed, making everyone jump in their seats.
Shooting one last foul look at Paul, John got up and stormed off upstairs to
his bedroom, where he slammed the door tightly shut. He could hear his sister
starting to sob downstairs.
Chapter End Notes
     I've been meaning to update this more often than I have. Maybe the
     coming weeks will be better. I hope you're enjoying the fic so far.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Notes
     Hey... remember this?? I'm going to do my best to actually put some
     of my older fics on here as well, starting by finishing posting this
     fic, which you can already read on my tumblr account if you may want
     to. I hope to keep this up this time and not leave it again for a
     year like I did at the beginning of the year.
     Anyway, this is a nice little fic (it's not that little to be
     honest...) and I'm doing another spelling and grammar check to make
     sure it's all readable. It's great to see how much my writing has
     improved over the last year, though.
     So, yeah! I hope you like the fic if you haven't read it before and
     let me know if you do!
     Love you, guys!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
It was completely silent in the kitchen, save for Jules’ soft sobbing and the
loud music coming from John's room in protest. Paul was looking at the doorway
through which John had disappeared. When Julia had told him her son was
trouble, he hadn't expected dinner to go quite this way. Although, now he
wondered just what he had expected. Perhaps fewer tears. He sighed deeply and
silently got up from his chair. He knelt down next to Jules and carefully
wrapped his arms around her, slowly as not to startle her. He could feel her
relax in his arms and soon she gave into him, allowing herself to lay her head
on his shoulder and wrap her own arms around him as she softly cried into his
shoulder.
"I'm sorry," Paul whispered at Julia, looking up to meet her eyes.
“No, I’m sorry,” Julia sighed from the seat next to them. Paul shook his head.
"No. It's okay. He simply needs some time," he told her gently, his voice soft
and quiet. He continued to rock Jules softly in his arms and tightened his arms
around her as he felt her slowly calming down.
"Come on. We almost finished dinner, anyway," he said as he helped her up on
her feet. Jules nodded and let herself be let to his mother, who got up too.
"It wasn't supposed to go like this," Julia said, and Paul let her talk as he
moved them both out of the kitchen and into the living room. Jules quietly told
them she was going to go upstairs to her room, and both Julia and Paul nodded.
Julia told her she’d be coming to her later before it was time to go to bed.
Jules nodded and stumbled up the stairs to her own bedroom.
"It's not true," Julia spoke after a little while.
"What isn't?" Paul asked as they sat down on the couch. Julia shrugged as Paul
shuffled closer to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders this time and
pulling her against his chest.
"About the other men. What John said. About them leaving. About you not being
worth the time because they keep leaving anyway. It's not true," she spoke very
softly and Paul had to concentrate to hear her.
"I know. And I wouldn't even care if it was true. I'm not leaving."
"I know you're not."
"I'm not them. I'm right here and I'm not leaving."
"Thank you." Gently he kissed her temple.
"I shouldn't even have reacted this way. I knew he'd be acting difficult. He
always does," Julia spoke after a while. The music from John's room had
stopped, so Paul had turned on the television, hoping it would relieve the
tension in the house a little. He drank some the tea he had made for him and
Julia and turned to face her.
"He just needs some time, Julia. It will be fine eventually. Having to meet
someone who's going to be taking over such a large part of your life isn't
easy. Believe me, I know," he said, trying to sooth her. Julia smiled at him,
nodding.
"I know that. I guess I just sort of hoped it would  all fall into place this
time. It's not easy being a single mother. Not even with my sister's help.
Especially not with a kid like John. I love him, though. And I wouldn't have
him any other way, but... it's difficult. Sometimes I do wish he was more like
his sister..." she explained softly, rubbing her temples again.
"Do you want your glasses?" Paul asked her kindly. She nodded. He reached over
into a drawer of one of the side tables and got out a pair of glasses, which he
handed to Julia. She thanked him with a simple kiss and Paul smiled.
"I love you," she said and Paul smiled even wider.
"And I you," he answered, as he watched her put on her glasses. "It will work
out between me and John. Eventually, that is. We all just need some time."
"I do hope so," Julia answered him, before kissing him again, her hand cupping
Paul’s cheek.
                                      ***
The next morning Paul woke up to the smell of spring, a tickling underneath his
nose and his arms wrapped around another body. Keeping his eyes closed, he
simply followed the lovely scent with his nose. He smiled as he realised it was
Julia's hair that smelled so good. He sweetly kissed the back of her head with
an approving moan. The body in his arms moved and the sound of happy giggling
filled his ears.
"Good morning, Paul," she greeted him, her voice lower and more croaky than
normally but also sexier. He kissed her again.
"Morning, luv," he said, his own voice not doing that much better. Julia pulled
away a little so she could turn to face him. As he felt her lips against his,
he slowly opened his eyes, looking straight into Julia's light brown eyes. Her
curling red hair circled her beautiful face.
"Even when you've just woken up you look absolutely stunning," Paul sighed
happily, and Julia giggled as she curled up into Paul's arms, burying her face
in his chest and kissing him there.
"Says the guy who could make women faint in his arms with the simplest of
smiles and a promising look with his bedroom eyes. I bet your students throw
themselves at you!" she joked, placing little butterfly kisses all over his
smooth chest, her hands moving up, over the man's sides to join her lips. Paul
hummed happily at that and kissed the top of her head, encouraging her.
"Wish I could wake up like this every morning," he muttered, gently sliding his
fingers in her hair. Julia looked up at him with a dreamy smile.
"Now you can," she remarked. Paul pretended to think about that.
"I suppose you're right. Lucky me." He grinned, before cupping her cheek in his
hand and bringing their lips together for a lazy, morning kiss. Julia moaned as
Paul began to lightly nibble at her bottom lip.
"I'm so glad we've decided to do this," she murmured and Paul nodded in
agreement, wrapping his arms tighter around the woman in his arms and rolling
them over so she was lying on top of him, a leg between his. She giggled as she
felt his semi-erect cock press against her thigh.
"Aren't you excited." She giggled and Paul raised her head again for another
kiss, which Julia gave to him more than gladly.
                                      ***
John was sitting in the kitchen, eating breakfast when he heard stumbling above
him, which meant his mother and Paul had supposedly woken up. His throat went
dry at the thought, knowing perfectly well what his mother thought of him after
the evening before. He had promised her he'd give him a shot. He'd promised
Cyn, and he knew she was not going to be happy when she'd find out what
happened. And she would find out. She always did. But he'd deal with her later.
Right now the footsteps descending down the stairs were more important. For a
moment the thought of fleeing into the living room where his little sister was
listening to the radio crossed his mind, but he decided against it. If there
was going to be another argument, it would be better if she wasn't there. She'd
seen enough last evening.
"Good morning, John," John heard Paul greet him from the doorway. He didn't
sound particularly angry, which made John feel ill at ease. He took a sip of
his tea to soothe his throat, before looking up at the man now standing by the
stove to get himself a cup of tea as well.
"Where's Julia?"  John asked, his voice flat.
"Still in bed. She's still tired from yesterday, so I told her to stay in a bit
longer," Paul answered him kindly, walking over to the fridge for the milk.
John didn't say anything in return. He wanted to say something snappy, but his
throat still felt too dry to get it to come across the way he wanted. Instead
he turned back to his breakfast and grabbed the morning paper to read in an
attempt to ignore the other man. Paul didn't say anything anymore either and
sat down opposite John with his milk and tea.
"Anything interesting?" he asked when John didn't acknowledge his presence at
the table. John didn't answer.
"Listen, John," Paul tried, sighing and pushing the paper down on the table to
catch John's attention, "I know you don't like me. I know you'd rather have me
walk outside right now and get hit by a car than have me sleep in the same bed
as your mother, but that's okay."
"Okay?! How is any of that okay?" John looked up at the other man with large
eyes, not believing his ears. This wasn't how this was supposed to go! Not at
all! He was supposed to be angry, not okay with John fantasising about how he'd
die!
"Yes, it is! I know what it's like. I don't care if you'd want my head on a
plate, or dance on my grave. I've felt the same way when I was younger."
"This isn't about you," John cut in, taking a loud bite off his toast.
"Can we at least act like decent human beings around each other? For your
mother? You don't have to like me, but I don't want us to be fighting the
entire time. Not only for your mother, but also not for your sister, you
understand me?" Paul asked him, his voice sounding firm. John looked up at him,
straight into his eyes. The guy looked completely serious, which was actually a
rather scary look on him,  even though he had a baby face complete with doe
eyes.
"I'm not going to like you," John remarked, being used to people looking at him
like that after the last years of school and his life-long relationship with
his aunt.
"I don't expect you to. But let's simply tolerate each other-"
"Until you're gone," John butt in, hoping to throw the man off, but to his
surprise the man only smiled.
"Until I'm gone," he repeated, sealing the deal. John bit his lip, thinking the
offer over.
"We won't have to have anything to do with each other, John. We'll simply live
next to each other, in a way," Paul added, trying to convince him and John
nodded.
"Fine," he agreed, be he still sounded unsure. Paul smiled at that and sat back
in his chair, taking the paper, which lay forgotten on the table, from John and
opening it to read it himself as he picked up his mug of tea to drink. John
stared at him, his mind not fully processing what just happened.
"And besides. I might even turn out to be not that bad," Paul muttered, still
grinning smugly. John sighed and took another bite from his toast in defeat,
knowing the man was going to be a tough one to get rid of. He was good. Almost
as good as John himself. Almost.
Chapter End Notes
     And yes, I know the chapters don't add up exactly the same way as
     they do on tumblr, but that's the downside of adding a prologue, I
     suppose.
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
As the days went by, John and Paul mostly lived next to each other, like they
had agreed. John stayed out for most of the day and Paul worked hard at the
school he was teaching at. Most days they only crossed paths at dinner time or
in the evenings. Whenever they were both home during the day, they mostly
stayed in separate rooms: John in his bedroom and Paul in the garden or the
living room. As it happened, Paul proved to enjoy the outside and John even
caught him doing some gardening once, although his mother seemed to take care
of the garden mostly. His sister moved between the two, liking them both. She
often questioned John about why he didn't like Paul, but he would mostly brush
it off, saying she'd understand when she was older, which earned him some foul
looks. She'd even kicked him once, before rushing out his bedroom and to the
garden where Paul was reading a book to be save. She was a quick learner, John
had to give her that.
"I know why you don't like him, John. I'm not stupid. But he's not like the
other guys. He's nice!" she would sometimes say.  John would shrug and tell her
he knew his kind. Men weren't simply 'nice'.
"No Johnny, that's your kind," she had told him once, making John laugh. She
could always make him laugh.
But if he was completely honest he wasn't certain himself why he hated him. And
if he did at all. Over the last couple of weeks he had not noticed anything
that was that bad about him. Sure, he could be loud sometimes and he and his
mother had arguments, but there hadn't been one argument that hadn't ended up
in the bedroom and John truly did not want to think about what went on in there
at those moments. But most of the time he was actually alright. His sister
adored him and he seemed to adore her, playing with her and helping with her
school work, as well as taking her to Blackpool to have fun and go to the fair,
even when his mother had told her “no”.
He was funny, kind, talkative, gentle. He even played piano. He was a talented
singer, who had even written his own songs when he was younger, or so his
mother had told him. John could sometimes hear him play softly downstairs on
their piano, singing songs. Of course John tried not to listen, no matter how
much his little sister seemed to like the man’s playing and tried to make him.
He could not afford to give into him. Not now. It wouldn't be long now. It
couldn't be long now. But every passing day he grew less certain of that.
Even though Paul wasn't as bad as John had thought him to be, it was still hard
for him to hold himself back. If it wasn't for his sister, he was certain he
would’ve had started plenty of fights already. It was because of her his mother
hadn't send him to live with Mimi for a while, which happened when he turned
out to be too much for her to handle for a while. Julia was a good mother, but
she was never very good at dealing with an angry John. She wasn't used to
standing up to him and holding her ground. She cared too much for him to do so.
John supposed he couldn't blame her. He could imagine it wasn't easy to raise
two children on your own. Especially not him. He knew he was trouble. He had
been told that more than often by his teachers. But his aunt could. She cared
for him, yes, but she was firm and believed in discipline, something his mother
lacked. His mother was too much of a rebel herself to punish him, which wasn't
the case with Mimi, who was more than happy to pound some sense and common-
knowledge into him whenever he was around. When the occasional good-manners
slipped in too, she would beam with pride.
Still, John loved his aunt, but he was glad he hadn't needed to spend a night
or two there this week. John wasn't sure if it had something to do with Paul.
He hoped not, but he couldn't deny the guy had a way of giving him looks that
made him feel guilty without having to lecture him. It was weird and it
sometimes creeped him out, but his mother and sister didn't seem to mind the
lack of outburst and mischievous behaviour. It puzzled John, of course, how
Paul could do that to him. But he supposed it had more to do with his mother
and sister, since he was still his old, annoying and unmannered self whenever
they weren’t around.
"Fucked any girls lately, Lennon?" Stuart asked as he nudged him painfully in
the ribs, dragging John away from his thoughts and doodles in his notebook and
back in his seat in the classroom. "Or has your devilish stepfather removed
your prick?"  
John shot his friend and angry glare, nudging him back, twice as hard and
making the older boy wince in his seat.
"Fuck, John. No way I nudged you that hard!" he hissed softly at John, making
him snicker at his friend's pain and sorrow.
"Prove your innocence, Sutcliffe," he retorted quietly as Stuart continued to
curse.
"Well, you're insides aren't bleeding, for once!"
"You're such a pussy."
"Am not!"
"Are too!"
"Am not!"
"Are too!"
"Am n- listen, I'm not playing this game!" Stuart told him, turning away from
his friend and fixing his gaze on the board.
"You are, though," John teased. It stayed quiet for a while after that, the
only sound remaining being that of pens on paper and the sound of the teacher
mumbling his nonsense. For a second John actually thought he had won. That is,
until the bell rang and Stuart got up from his chair, collected his things and
leaned in to whisper in his ear.
"Am not!" he hissed, before grabbing his stuff and running out of the classroom
before John had any time to answer.
"Mr Sutcliffe, no running!" the teacher called out after him, but the boy
simply continued running like an idiot as he tried to push through the crowd
that had gathered at the door, making John laugh as he too grabbed his stuff
and followed his friend out. It was lunch time! Meaning, fish and chips and
good music!
                                      ***
When John finally caught up with Stuart, he smacked him on the back of his
head, before offering a cigarette as a token of peace. The older lad accepted
it with a huff and together they cycled to the fish and chips shop where they
would meet with the others. Once there, they locked their bikes against one of
the windows of the shop and walked in, where they were greeted by Cynthia,
Maureen and Ringo.
“There you finally are! Come on! I’m bloody starving,” Ringo exclaimed at the
sight of them, grabbing his belly for dramatic effect. Maureen shook her and
crossed her arms.
“Well, you could’ve eaten the breakfast I made you this morning,” she said.
Ringo smiled apologetically at her and kissed her cheek. Maureen sighed and
muttered something about idiotic boys before wrapping an arm around her
boyfriend.
“Well, we’re here now to save you from your starving death!” John grinned at
his friend and patted his back, before walking over to Cynthia to kiss her
cheek. Before he had even a hand on her shoulder, she had already turned away
from him, however.
“Ah, come on, Cyn.” John whined, leaning in and making kissing sounds with his
lips. She tutted and pushed him away.
“What did I do?!”
“You know what you did. You didn’t listen to me and now you’re having trouble
with your mum and stepdad and I’m not doing anything until you apologize.”
Cynthia told him sternly, crossing her arms just like Maureen had done. He
could hear Ringo chuckling at the parallel. Bastard.
“I told you I was sorry-” John started but was quickly interrupted.
“Not to me! To your stepfather!”
“He’s not my bloody stepfather and no way!” John made a disgusted face, making
the others snicker, but not Cyn, who continued to glare at him.
“Alright now. You two can bicker some more once we’ve gotten something to eat.
I’m afraid Ringo will starve to death if we don’t get any chips in him soon.”
Stuart laughed, placing a hand on John’s shoulder to pull him away from
Cynthia. John simply shrugged and followed Stuart’s lead.
“You’re paying for me, Lennon. To make it up to me,” Cynthia called after John,
who waved his hand at her to let her know he’d heard her.
“Can you imagine what it would be like if they were actually dating?” Ringo
laughed at Maureen, who snickered at the idea of it.
“All I can say is that I imagine something with lots of smart bickering and
sickening moments of closeness.” She said, making Ringo laugh along with her.
“You know, I was more picturing some kind of disturbing-looking human with two
constantly bickering or kissing heads.” he whispered at her, before stepping
over to the others who were already ordering.
                                      ***
The five of them sat together on a stage that the school used for small
performance evenings. Most of the days the room was locked for students, but of
course John had nicked a key off a janitor, so now they sat there whenever they
could meet up together during lunch. The hardest part was getting Ringo and
Maureen in, who didn’t go to college here and were mostly met with second
glances. Still, they hadn’t been caught once!
“John! That’s my fish!” Cynthia exclaimed, gaping at John who just swallowed a
piece of her fish. The man grinned at her and shrugged.
“I paid for it. So technically it is still mine,” he said. Cynthia rolled her
eyes and moved her food further away from her friend, before continuing her
chat with Maureen. John smirked in triumph when she didn’t say anything else.
He turned to look at Stuart who sat with his bass on his lap, practicing. Ringo
was drumming with his fingers on the wooden floor of the stage, using his foot
that was dangling over the side, to tap against the front of the stage as
backbeat. John’s guitar lay discarded behind him. Food was much more important
right now. Reaching over, he tried to nick another piece of fish from Cynthia,
but she quickly batted his hand away. Staring back at his own food, he
reluctantly picked up another chip. He wished he had more fish, but he had
already finished his. He eyed Stuart, who was far too engrossed in his playing
to notice him looking and saw he still had some fish left.
“Mind if I take that, Stu?” John asked, pointing at the man’s fish. Stuart
hummed his approval and shifted his food towards John, who eagerly took it. He
could see Ringo look hungrily at the extra food John had managed to get and
licked his lips. John doubted Ringo hadn’t eaten Maureen’s breakfast. There was
no way in hell he was going to let anything go to waste, especially when he was
this bleeding hungry. John ripped Stuart’s fish in half and offered Ringo the
other half, who took it with a lick across his lips.
“Thanks mate,” he said, digging right in.
“So anyway. Me and Stu sought out some more songs for the band to play. Thought
we might want to go over the next practice. What do you say, Richie?” John
asked as he took a bite of the fish.
“Yeah, even got some B-sides. Like John likes,” Stuart added, looking up from
his clumsy playing. Honestly, if he wasn’t John’s best mate he’d be out
already, but John had faith in him. And what John wanted, happened, no matter
what. At least the poor bastard fucking tried.
“Sure. When’s practice?” Ringo said, forcing some more fish down his throat.
“Next week. Friday,” Stuart replied, reaching out for a chip from his plate,
which he had given John.
“And everyone will be there?”
“They better be!” John said. “We’ve got that gig Sunday. Can’t go onstage
without even a bloody set list.” Stuart hummed in agreement.
“Cyn? You’re coming to watch us, right?” John asked.
“At least tell me why you didn’t even try!” Cynthia demanded out of nowhere,
not answering John’s question. The latter groaned in frustration and put his
food down.
“Come on, Cyn. We’re talking about something important here. Besides, I-” John
started, before getting interrupted again.
“No, you’re not. You asked if I was coming to your gig next week. You already
know I am. Hence, the subject is not important. Now, answer me.” Cynthia shot
at him, turning herself to look him dead in the eyes.
“I did try! At first! It’s not my fault he was being an arse and continued to
ask me stupid questions about school. The guy is a teacher! How could he
possiblynot like going to school. Every one of those sadistic bastards do. If
only to ruin our fucking lives,” John told her, his voice raised and stern.
Maureen backed away a little, grasping Ringo’s hand for her safety. Cynthia
didn’t so much as blink.
“Well, obviously you didn’t try hard enough did you?” she challenged.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Cyn. I’m sorry I’m sick and tired of sucking up to people who
aren’t worth my time. I’m sorry I’m sick of being let down and I’m sorry for
not trying harder to get that ponce to like me.”
“Why don’t you like him? Me and Maureen thought he’d be great for your mother.
And you for that matter,” Cynthia said, stealing some chips from John’s plate
to make up for her lost fish. John didn’t even seem to notice.
“You don’t understand,” he simply stated. “Now, would you please let it go?”  
Cynthia blinked at him a couple of times. John didn’t say ‘please’. At least
not when he meant it. Apparently it was harder on him than she had thought. She
looked down at the floor and nodded.
“I- I know. I don’t understand. I’m sorry,” she said, leaning over to kiss
John’s cheek to strengthen her apology. John smiled at her.
“Good of you to realise,”  he replied, as a way of accepting it.
                                     *** 
For the rest of lunch and the first period after, they simply talked and played
a little, the girls sometimes singing along to their playing. It was fun and
John could see Cynthia felt bad about her behaviour. He continued to smile at
her to let her know it was fine and he hoped she noticed. Stuart was looking at
him with a weird face though, obviously not being used to him sucking up to
another person that much. But Cynthia was worth it. He knew the others joked
about them being a couple. And often they’d play along. But in a way they were.
In a unconventional way. John was certain though that if he wasn’t queer he
would have slept with her. More than just that one time, of course. John loved
her. Like a friend. A really close friend. Maybe even closer than Stuart in a
way. No, in a different way.
Once second period was about to start, though. They decided to call it quits.
Mostly because Cynthia had class that hour and she never felt good about
skipping. Especially not when she was still in the school.
“Hey, John. You wanna go out tonight?” Stuart asked as they all got up and
collected their stuff. John searched around in his bag for the keys, only
looking up once he found them.
“Sure mate. I’d do anything to keep away from McQueer at home,” he said.
Cynthia shot him a look. She couldn’t help it, but John didn’t particularly
mind. At least she wasn’t harassing him about it anymore. He could deal with
the looks.
“Is he, then? Queer?” Ringo asked, removing himself from Maureen’s lips.
“Dunno,” John said with a grin, “He sure looks like it.”
“You should ask him,” Stuart suggested, smirking, and John laughed and nodded
at his friend.
“Will do. Anyway, where do you wanna go tonight?” John asked, grabbing his
guitar and bag from the floor.
“Thought we’d check out The Cavern. Heard there’s this new group playing there.
Might as well see if we can learn anything from them,” Stuart answered,
grabbing his bass and bag as well. “We still need to take this back to the
music room.”  
John nodded. “Sure. Any good? The band, that is?”
“Must be. To get into The Cavern.”
“Alright then. Richie? You coming?”
“Sure. Lad’s night out sounds great right now.”
“Well, that settles it then,” John concluded with a smile. He was already
looking forward to that evening. He needed to get drunk and forget everything
for a while. Perhaps he could even crash at Stuart’s place. If Stuart would let
him, of course. And didn’t pick up a bird.
                                      ***
When John came home that afternoon after school, it was quiet in the house. His
mum was nowhere to be seen and his sister wasn’t yet home from school. John
kicked off his shoes and shrugged off his coat, not bothering to hang it up or
put it away, and stumbled into the kitchen to get a cup of tea. He filled the
teapot with water, put it on the stove and began searching around the kitchen
for something edible, while he waited for the water to boil. He found an apple.
Groaning that there wasn’t anything else in, he took a bite of it and chewed it
angrily. He hated it when he was craving something nice to eat and there wasn’t
anything around. Except bloody apples of course. John wondered why they weren’t
extinct yet. What with them eating them all the time. How many of them could
there be?!
John nearly dropped the fucking thing, though, when he suddenly heard the piano
in the living room. Luckily, he caught it just in time and smiled proudly at
himself. He took another bite and quietly listened to the music filling the
air. It wasn’t anything he recognised, but it sounded good. Different, for
sure. But good. The melody was sweet and simple, but interesting because of the
timing. It wasn’t straight forward, but not that farfetched. Just… nice. John
quickly pushed the thought away and took another angry bite from his apple once
he realised it must be Paul McCartney playing the tune. His suspicions were
confirmed when he could hear the guy's voice singing along with the tune. The
lyrics were even cuter and sweeter than the melody itself, but John didn’t
particularly mind that much.
Out of nowhere the kettle began to boil, interrupting the pretty sounds with
its high-pitched whistle. Quickly, John turned off the stove and took the
kettle off to make it stop. He cursed once he realised the other man had
stopped playing. He whined at the knowledge that he must know now that someone
was home. Probably he would’ve drawn the conclusion that it was him right away.
Paul was great at deducing those things, curse him.
John let out a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding when Paul resumed his
playing, singing along still. At least the guy wasn’t shy. Still cursing to
himself, John made his tea and ate the rest of his apple, before throwing the
core away. Taking a careful sip, John thought about what to do next. He was
curious, damn him, about Paul’s playing. He was dying to take a look and see
what the man was up to. He wondered if he had written the song himself or if
John simply hadn’t heard of it at all. But on the other hand, he simply wanted
to go upstairs, lock himself into his room till dinner and fuck off to the
Cavern as soon as possible to get the twat out of his head. Still, his
curiosity won out in the end and John sneaked over to the living room.
Carefully, John peaked around the corner to see indeed Paul sitting at the
piano. The piano stood against the same wall the door was in, but further away,
so Paul wasn’t likely to spot John unless he turned his head far enough and
focused on the door. Still, not wanting to get caught, John knelt down and sat
on his knees as he spied on the other man, making it harder for him to spot
him. The older man’s eyes were closed as he played the song and hummed along
this time, not pronouncing the words, simply humming along with the chords he
was playing. The song sounded even better now that it wasn’t muffled by the
walls. John noticed some pieces of paper and an old notebook on the piano with
a pen, a pencil and an eraser.
When Paul stopped playing to scribble something on one of the pieces of paper
and played the same bit again, John knew Paul had written this song himself. He
couldn’t help but feel impressed. John had tried writing his own stuff, but
songs were so much harder to write than any of the poetry he normally wrote. If
you could even call it that. According to his teachers you couldn’t. Well, fuck
them! Still though, if McFuckface could do it, why not him! The only problem
was, he didn’t know where to start. With the music or the lyrics? And if with
the lyrics, how did you know the timing and everything? What if it didn’t fit
at all. And if you started with the music, how could you know it would fit the
lyrics you would think of later? Or should you do both at once? But how? John
couldn’t figure it out. But maybe if he tried harder. Obviously, it couldn’t be
that difficult.
John listened closely to the music. Was it easier to write with a piano? John
couldn’t play the piano. He barely knew how to play the guitar. He couldn’t
even tune the damn thing! Sighing, John watched Paul’s hands as they moved over
the keys. The guy made it look so easy. As if he had done it since he was a
baby. The thought of a baby playing guitar made John chuckle. He had to bite
the inside of his cheek not the laugh any louder and give himself away.
He had only just stood up again, planning to leave, when he suddenly heard Paul
stop singing and say something to him as he continued playing.
“Do you like it, John?” he asked, a smug tone in his voice. John’s eyes widened
at the question and his throat got dry. He didn’t know what to say. His body
didn’t even know how to move anymore. No matter how much he willed his body to
run away and to his room, he couldn’t move.
“I wrote it myself.” Paul added and John could see him smirking. The bloody
git. Finally, his mind won over his body and without saying a word he quickly
vanished out of the doorway and ran upstairs. Locking his room, John didn’t
come out until dinner time.
Chapter End Notes
     It's so strange reading through your old writing... I guess it's not
     bad, but with how much my writing has improved since I wrote this, I
     know it could have been so much better... oh well
     I hope you're enjoying it anyway ;)
***** Chapter 6 *****
Paul sighed and looked down at his hands resting on the ivory keys of the
piano, as he listened to John running back up to his bedroom. He knew he had
made a mistake with speaking up. It had been obvious the lad hadn’t wanted him
to know he was there. It didn’t matter Paul had noticed him almost immediately
in the doorway. After having grown up with his younger brother Michael, he had
learned all the tricks of catching people sneaking off or spying on him or
hiding things from him. It proved a handy skill being a teacher. But he was so
used to calling people out on it, that he hadn’t even thought twice about it.
Until John had rushed off.
He had hoped their mutual love of music would have been an easy way for them to
get to know each other and grow closer, but if John continued to refuse to
listen to him or run away whenever he was caught peeking, Paul doubted that
would happen. Over the last few days their relationship hadn’t grown much
better, even if John didn’t try to fight him every chance he got. But at least
the fact that John had now come in to have a look, even if it had been
secretly, proved that maybe there was a slight chance that things would change
soon. Maybe, now that his curiosity was triggered and he knew Paul had seen him
anyway, he’d let his guard down a bit. Maybe he’d let that curiosity take over
and ask him about music. Maybe he’d even ask him for his help or simply discuss
music. Perhaps it had been good that Paul had let John know he had seen him.
Maybe, once they got talking about the music, everything else would come
naturally.
Paul hoped so.
The tension in the house didn’t do many wonders for his and Julia’s
relationship. They were fighting more than they had been before. Sometimes even
about the stupidest things and if Paul was honest with himself, he was growing
fed up with it. Even the make-up sex was becoming repetitive. Perhaps they just
needed a break from it all. Maybe he should take her out again. They hadn’t
gone on a date since he had moved in almost a week ago. They could go out for
dinner Saturday. Jules could stay over at Mimi’s if she wanted. Or if John
would stay in, John could look after her. But most likely he would go out again
or stay over at his friend’s place. The one who lived on his own? Stuart? Was
that his name? But again, if he was going out and Jules could go to Mimi’s, he
and Julia would have the whole house to themselves. And that did sound
appealing.
Grinning, Paul reached over to grab his acoustic guitar that was leaning
against the piano and put it in his lap. He placed his fingers in the right
setting and started playing a French-like tune while thinking of a nice little
place he could take Julia. Soon, however, his mind drifted to when they’d be
home again and he felt himself get a little warmer at the thought. He figured
he’d take her to the couch and put on a nice little record to listen to. Maybe
they would dance a little. Or simply sit there, talking and laughing and
touching…. until he would make his move and he’d kiss her. Sweetly, but
persistently, making his intentions well-known, before allowing his hands to
wander, to touch and fumble with her clothes and skin, making her more and more
excited and making her moan softly into his mouth. And after that he’d take her
upstairs and- no! They had the whole house to themselves, they could do it
right there, like when they were teenagers, but without the clumsiness. Or with
it. The clumsiness had something appealing about it.
Paul smiled to himself and gave himself a mental pat on the back for his good
idea and continued to play as he thought about Saturday. It’d be good for the
both of them. Since he moved in they hadn’t even had a full hour for
themselves. They needed this.
After a while his mind started to get occasionally dragged back to John. It had
been almost an hour since John had ran up to his room and Paul hadn’t heard
anything from him since then. His fingers were starting to hurt from the
strings digging into his skin, since he wasn’t used to playing for longer
periods of time anymore since he had stopped performing with his last band. He
put his guitar down and softly walked to the bottom of the stairs. He held his
breath and listened closely, but he couldn’t hear anything from John’s bedroom.
For a second he thought about going up and ask him if he was okay, to let him
know he wasn’t mad or anything for spying on him. But as soon as the thought
had entered his brain, it had left again. It would only make things worse for
John. If Paul could read John well enough, he was more bothered with the fact
that he had been caught and Paul knew he had been listening, than whether or
not Paul would have felt bothered by him spying on him.
Paul walked into the kitchen to have another cup of tea. It was best to leave
John alone for a while or else he’d just get angry. Paul didn’t want Julia to
come home to an angry John. He needed her relaxed and calm for their date
Saturday.
Still, he sort of started to like John. For some ridiculous reason, he sort of
liked it that he tried to challenge him and tease him. He liked their little
arguments and he liked the fact that John didn’t take his word on everything
and wouldn’t stop questioning him, unlike all of his students who thought that
because he was the teacher, he was always right (which he mostly was, but that
was beside the point). He liked the exchange of words, the banter and the
falling-out’s. He enjoyed them, however rare they were since their private
conversation two weeks ago. He enjoyed the challenge of proving his point or
simply making John speechless.
But he also liked it the other way around. He liked hearing John’s sometimes
well thought-out arguments and his opinions on stuff. He liked how John would
sometimes manage to change his mind, even though Paul would never admit that he
had. He liked it when John would take his words and twist them around and leave
him lost for words for a second. Or when he’d say something or do something
that left him tongue-tied. He hadn’t had that with anyone ever. He had had
arguments and heated discussions, but none had he enjoyed as much as the ones
with John. But most of all he liked the competition. Not fighting for the win
or fighting to prove John wrong, but simply for the sake of the competition. It
was something he hadn’t felt as much before. In a way it was as if they pulled
that part out of each other, as if they needed each other to do that. It was
odd, but exciting.
But he also liked John for himself. The guy was talented; he could hear that
whenever John played guitar in his bedroom or was trying to amuse his sister.
Besides, he had seen the scattered pieces of paper with poems and doodles on
them. Paul liked to see him with his sister. He was different then. Less angry,
more playful. He was an idiot and a goofy one. He had a good sense of humour,
sometimes hard, mean and rude, but sometimes clever and subtle, or simply silly
and witty. He was rebellious, always searching for the limits and stretching
them, seeing how far he could go and take one step further. It was something
Paul had always condemned as stupid, even when he was younger, but was secretly
slightly envious of. He found it intriguing and wished to know what it felt
like to do that. But he liked it even more in John.
He had come home once reeking of alcohol and ciggies, with a few bruises in his
face, but a smug grin on his face, meaning he’d fought someone and won for
whatever reason (he’d heard something at school about John trying to chat up
the wrong bird and having her boyfriend come after him, but he wasn’t sure it
was true) and Paul would feel something come over him. He still thought the
behaviour was idiotic, but it made him feel something. Something youthful, that
he hadn’t felt in a long time. Something he couldn’t quite put a finger on, let
alone name.  He liked the dangerous look. It intrigued him. It made him
curious.
He was pulled away from his thoughts by the sound of the front door falling
shut, followed by a happy shout that sounded like Julia.
“We’re home!” Paul turned to look at the clock and saw it was indeed already
half past five. The day had flown by since he had come home from school at two.
He put down his freshly made cup of tea and smiled with open arms as the ten-
year-old girl ran into the kitchen. He grabbed her by her waist and lifted her
up, before kissing her cheek, which made the girl squeal and struggle in his
arms for fear of falling, knowing she was far too old and heavy to be lifted up
like that. Laughing, Paul quickly put her back down, feeling his arms and back
protesting already.
                                      ***
John was sitting at his desk doodling when he heard his mother call him
downstairs for dinner. Not that he had been able to concentrate. It had gotten
even worse when his mother had come home, the silent threat of having to go
downstairs and face Paul inching closer and closer. He truly didn’t know what
to do next. Paul had caught him eavesdropping on him playing piano and writing
a song… How the man had noticed him, John didn’t know. He hadn’t turned his
head to him or anything. He had just… noticed him or something. And it wasn’t
because he was a teacher. Those idiots never noticed anything. But Paul had.
Not that it mattered. All that mattered was that he had seen him, one way or
another, and John wasn’t sure what was going to happen next.
He supposed Paul wouldn’t do much with it. Perhaps tell his mother and think of
it as a sign that things would get better between them. But that was the real
trouble, wasn’t it? Because John still didn’t like him. It didn’t matter that
the guy could play piano and seemed to be fucking good at it. It didn’t even
matter that he could write his own songs, which was something John had always
wanted to do, but always got stuck on. No, this didn’t change anything, and
Paul needed to know that. John supposed all he could do was simply see what
happened during dinner and do what was needed to be done, preferably after
dinner when his sister and mother weren’t around. They didn’t need to be
dragged into this.
John crossed out some of the lines he had written in his notebook and
reluctantly went downstairs. His mother greeted him with a kiss on his cheek
and motioned him to sit down while she put the last few things on the table and
sat down as well. Jules was already sitting at the table and was mindlessly
playing with her fork, stroking across the top with her fingers. Paul however,
wasn’t around. John decided that asking where he was would make people think he
cared, so he simply helped his mother divide the food across four plates.
“Paul’s fixing Jules’ bike. She had a flat tire. He’ll be back soon,” Julia
explained as she too sat down and started eating, obviously having noticed the
frown on John’s face. John simply shrugged and started eating.
“I’m going out tonight,” he announced, popping a potato in his mouth.
“Really? Where to?” his mother asked, looking up at him.
“The Cavern. With Stu and Richie. There’s this new band playing, so we thought
we’d check it out, you know.”
“Sure. Don’t stay out too late,” his mother told him.
“Well, actually-” John started, but was interrupted by Paul coming in. He
quickly looked down at his plate, pretending not to care, as Paul sat down and
leaned over to kiss his mother. Jules voiced her disgust by making gagging
noises, which made John chuckle. Neither Julia nor Paul seemed to care much,
though.
“Did you manage to fix it?” Julia asked and Paul nodded as he picked up his
knife and fork and started to eat as well.
“Yeah. Easy job. It had probably been a small rock or something,” he said.
“So I can cycle again?” Jules asked excitedly. Paul smiled at her and nodded.
“Yes, as fast as the wind.” Jules smiled broadly at that, but John rolled his
eyes. He could’ve done it too. He had been doing it for the last three years,
in fact! Nothing special about fixing a bloody flat tire.
“So, what else have you done today?” Julia asked, seemingly having forgotten
all about her discussion with her son, and Paul shrugged.
“Nothing much. Work was same as always, nothing special. When I can home I was
alone, so I tried to finish that song I was working on,” he said. Julia nodded.
“Any good?”
“You can ask John, actually. He heard me play when he came home from school,”
Paul told her. John felt his body tense up and he glared at Paul from the
corner of his eyes, but still pretended not to look. He didn’t miss the smirk
on the man’s face, however.
“Really, John? Well, what did you think? Since you’re the music expert in the
house,” Julia asked him. John cursed to himself and simply hummed something in
response. When his mother told him she hadn’t heard, John was this close to
simply walking out. Couldn’t she see he wasn’t feeling like discussing it? What
was he going to say? Still, he muttered an answer just to stay out of trouble.
He still wanted to go out and he wouldn’t be allowed to if he caused trouble.
Hopefully, he could stay over at Stuart’s.
“I didn’t hear much…” John muttered, hoping that would be enough to get his
mother off his back. Apparently it wasn’t.
“Come on. You must have heard something,” his mother pushed on. And then to
make it all even better, Paul started to talk too.
“Yeah, you were standing there for quite a while. You must have heard the whole
song at least once, maybe twice. Not that it’s finished, of course.”
“I’ve heard better, I suppose,” John answered with a grunt. Paul sighed, but
left it at that. His mother did too, knowing she wasn’t going to get more out
of him.
“I’d still like to hear it,” Jules suddenly said, cutting the silence, “I
thought it sounded nice last time I heard it.” Paul smiled at that and ruffled
her hair.
“You can hear it after dinner.”  He promised her, making her smile and John
roll his eyes again.
During dinner John didn’t say much more, trying to keep out of the
conversations as much as possible and not get too annoyed with the whole thing.
His mother and her boyfriend were still so close, brushing hands and even
feeding each other, and making stupid inside jokes. It was sickening.
Paul was telling her about this stupid accident with his friend George when
there were young and still in school. About how the lad had gotten beaten with
a ruler on his hands for doodling in class or something and how his father
turned up the next day and punched the teacher right in the face and warned him
to never hit his son again. Apparently everyone thought it was hilarious. Well,
not John. Besides, the guy was talking about his friend all the time. Not that
John knew what Paul liked about George. Sure, he had only met him once, but the
first impression hadn’t been that good. The guy didn’t even talk! And he looked
a bit scary as thin as he was.
When Paul started his second story about him and George at school, John decided
he had enough. He looked up at Paul and narrowed his eyes at him. When the guy
didn’t even seem to notice, John cleared his throat, interrupting him mid-
sentence.
“Are you queer?” he asked without even thinking. He didn’t know where that
question had come from, and it hadn’t really been what he had wanted to ask in
the first place, but it gave the wanted result. The whole table went quiet and
they were all looking at him with shocked expressions on their faces. John
grinned at that and leaned forward towards Paul.
“E-ex...cuse me?” Paul asked, sounding flabbergasted, which he most likely was.
He was blinking rapidly and John felt his heart jump in triumph.
“You. Are you queer? You sure sound like it,” he said with a shrug, looking
back at his almost empty plate. It stayed completely silent at the table for a
couple of seconds, before his mother found her voice again.
“John! That’s not-” she started, but Paul interrupted her, cutting her off.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, his voice tight. John shrugged again,
before looking up, meeting the guy’s eyes. For a second John thought he had
seen something on the man’s face, something other than shock and faint disgust.
Something more on the lines of… fear. But not the kind John had been hoping
for.
“Come on. As if I’m the first one to ask?” John pushed on, not even trying to
hide his smirk.
“No actually,” Paul snapped at him. Julia leaned over and laid a calming hand
on Paul’s arm.
“Paul…” she started, but was cut off again, this time by John.
“Well, are you?” he asked again. Paul gaped at him, not believing he was truly
asked this.
“I can’t believe…”
“Are you?”
“No! Of course not! Now stop this nonsense,” Paul almost ordered, but John
didn’t give in just yet. He wanted to push the man a bit more, trying to see
how far he could go.
“But you must be. With the way you talk about that George guy and your pretty
plucked eyebrows. And the way you act, of course. Fluttering those eyelashes
and those feminine moves. I bet you even manicure your nails. In London you
must have worked in theatre,” John pushed on as he continued to eat calmly.
“I don’t pluck my eyebrows.”
“So you got them from your mum?” John asked, faking interest.
“No, my dad actually. If you must know.”
“Then he was a queer too,” John concluded with another shrug and smirked up at
Paul.
“John! Stop this nonsense, or you won’t be going out tonight. You hear me,”
Julia told her son sternly, but John didn’t care.
“Sure, Mimi,” he simply taunted and turned back to Paul, who was still looking
shocked, but also angry. John swallowed at the look in the other man’s eyes. He
must have pissed him off by insulting his father. He knew he would be.
“You’re still queer, if that’s all you can say in your defence,” he muttered.
“John! Upstairs! NOW!” Julia suddenly told him in a raised voice. John bit the
inside of his mouth, but stood up anyway.
“Filthy queer!” he snarled at Paul, before storming off to his room, where he
got his jacket, money and ciggies, before running back down stairs and rushing
out of the door. He had had enough of this stupid house. He didn’t even  care
if Stuart would bring a girl with him, he’d stay there anyway.
                                      ***
John met up with Stuart at a pub, where Stuart would often eat if he didn’t
fancy cooking himself, or when his mother wouldn’t make him anything. He could
see the older lad sitting in a booth in the corner of the pub with Ringo. Both
were eating and drinking beer. That last sounded like a terrific idea. He
quickly ordered himself a beer and walked over to where his two friends were
sitting.
“Lennon! Thought you were being a good son and having dinner at home!” Stuart
greeted him with a large, already slightly drunken, smile. John smiled half-
heartedly back at him as he sat down. He’d rather not talk about what happened
at dinner. He just needed to get away from it all. Escape his mind and not
think about anything for a while.
“Nah. Screwed it up again by asking if the guy is queer. Figured I’d come here
to escape the heat,” John explained as he stole a bite of Stuart’s food.
“I was only joking when I said you should ask him, you know,” Stuart replied
with a knowing grin. John made a spastic face in response, making Stuart laugh.
“What did he say?” Ringo asked between bites.
“Said he wasn’t, of course. What did you think? He did say he didn’t pluck his
eyebrows, though, so I’m not sure what happened there, but I know it wasn’t
good.”
“Hmm… I wouldn’t know either. I saw him this afternoon when I was walking Mo to
school.” Ringo chuckled.
“Aww. Come on. Now I’m the only one who hasn’t seen the guy,” Stuart groaned,
leaning back in his chair as he shoved the last of his food towards John again,
who ate it greedily.
“You should come over for dinner once,” John joked. Stuart grinned back at him.
“Sounds a lot more interesting than my family dinners. Could be fun.”
“Sure. Come whenever. Now, let’s talk about something else. I came here to have
some fucking fun, remember,” John said, before gulping down his first beer.
“I’ll buy. You seem like you need it,” Ringo said, grabbing all their glasses
and heading towards the bar the get more.
“Ta, mate!” John said, before reaching in his pocket for a ciggy. This was
going to be a fun night.
End Notes
     This fic was first posted on my Tumblr and later on my Wattpad
     account as well. I have re-checked each chapter as I've posted it for
     spelling and grammar mistakes, but I might have missed some, so
     please excuse any. The age of consent in 16 in my country, but of
     course the relationship remains dubious. I don't wish to offend
     anyone, so please, if you don't like the age-gap, don't read it.
     Thanks. If you do, please enjoy it ;)
     Disclaimer: I do not own The Beatles or their friends and family,
     this is fiction, and I do not make money from this.
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