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“Well, do you think the world is gonna end?” John asked his wife, holding her hand.
“No,” Yoko replied. “But many things are going to end. It’s the natural cycle of the world.”
“Like all the computers,” John said. “We’ll have to live like the Amish.”
John looked at the clock, sitting in the apartment he had lived in for 27 years. Outwardly gothic as the day they had moved in. The insides, though, were always changing; they had to make way for the rapid cycles that John and Yoko went through, and for their baby to grow up and eventually move out to start his own life. John and Yoko hadn’t moved house in all these years because it felt like they had finally found a place to land; it was a tree branch, and they could always change the nest that sat on it.
The minutes were going by. 11:58pm. The New York streets outside their apartment hummed in anticipation. It was going to be the biggest New Year of everyone’s life, but that didn’t mean John and Yoko wanted to do anything but be with each other, calm.
“I have to call Paul,” John suddenly announced.
“He’s already in the new millennia, y’know,” Yoko reminded him.
“Yeah, so why hasn’t he called me yet to tell me how it is?”
John picked up his Nokia phone. Paul had apparently texted him “HNY” five hours ago. John called him.
No response.
“What the fuck’s he doing sleeping on a night like this?” John grumbled. “He better not have died.”
He looked up from his phone when he heard people counting down. He and Yoko stood by the window, looking out at all the people gathered in Central Park.
Three… Two… One…
Welcome to the new millennia.
John and Yoko kissed, and watched the incredible fireworks without a single plane falling from the sky.
“We’re still alive,” Yoko said.
John smiled. “We’re still alive.”
John went over to his Windows 95 computer, booting it up. He whistled and swung Yoko’s hand up and down as he waited for it to load.
When it was finally on, everything was… normal.
“That was anticlimactic,” John muttered.
“We did install that patch,” Yoko said.
“I didn’t trust it would work. I was still hoping for a little chaos.”
They went to bed.
Paul called back after John had woken up in 2000. John thought that he should probably call his accountant first to check his bank account was still working, but he couldn’t really be bothered.
“What was it like in Times Square?” Paul asked.
“We didn’t go,” John replied, scooping some ice cream from a bowl; his breakfast, because it was a new millennia. “Couldn’t be bothered. Just stayed in the apartment.”
“Are you kidding?” Paul laughed a little. “This was a historical moment. Once in a lifetime.”
“And what did you do?”
“...Well, I also didn’t feel like doing anything.”
John snickered. “So, did your computers break?”
“Exploded right in my face.”
“Mine too. Still got little bits stuck in me skin. I’m a cyborg now.”
“We’ll probably all be cyborgs soon enough.”
“Can’t wait,” John murmured, pushing the empty bowl away.
A comfortable silence, for a moment. A cat jumped onto the table and started cleaning out John's bowl.
“So, how have you been holding up recently?” John asked.
“I think I’m good now, yeah. Y’know, I think I can live again.”
John wanted to look into Paul’s eyes, to his mind, to see how he really was.
“Did you listen to my new album?” Paul continued.
John rolled his eyes. “Your version of my Rock ‘N’ Roll? With all the covers? Yeah, it was alright. I can tell you’re aging.”
“Well, I’ve started writing more originals.”
“Christ, Macca, when are you gonna slow down? No one’s forcing you to make two albums a year anymore.”
“I just enjoy it, John. And I need it.”
John absentmindedly nibbled on the end of his thinning hair; he was having a phase where he wanted to see how long it could get despite the bald patch, and Yoko was having a phase of pixie cuts, which John found attractive. But then again, Yoko was always attractive.
He still needed to see Paul. Paul, who, like John, was prone to self-destruction when he was depressed. It had only been about 21 months since Linda had left her body. John had supported Paul as best he could through the last few months of Linda’s life and the few months afterwards, but he was realising that he should have stuck around longer. Grief was not something that went away very quickly. John would know; he was still grieving his mother.
“And are you finally gonna release something new?” Paul asked. “It’s been ten years.”
“Both me kids are stars in their own right now. Can’t let the press overshadow them with me, y’know.”
Paul hummed like he didn’t believe John’s reasoning. But John figured that Paul also wouldn’t believe him if he said he just didn’t feel like it, which he didn’t.
“I’ve been writing a book,” John said.
“Oh, have you? What sort of book?” Paul asked.
“I don’t know, really. Well, I wanted to try me hand at fiction. Y’know, something with a plot. Don’t know if it’s any good.”
“Could I have a read when you’re ready?”
“You can be one of maybe very few who read it.”
“I’d be honoured.”
Another pause. John looked around the living room he was in. The apartment was so quiet these days. It made it hard to think. He could barely write his book, let alone music in these conditions.
“Do you ever want more kids?” John asked.
“Yeah,” Paul admitted. “It’d be nice. Are we too old, though?”
“We’re not even 64 yet.”
Paul snorted. “Not even 60.”
“Yoko’s gone through menopause though, so that’s that for me.”
“Well, I’ve been hooking up with some younger girls. Dating around too.”
John raised his eyebrows. “Already?”
As if John had any idea how to be without a woman.
“What, am I not allowed to?”
“No, no, do what you want. How’s it playing the field at your age, though?”
“Easy as ever,” Paul said. “Maybe I’ll knock one of them up.”
John brushed his hair from his eyes as he leaned back in his chair. He let out a little laugh. Amused, slightly off-put by how serious Paul sounded. He really, really needed to see what was going on inside Paul.
“Haven’t you got a grandson now?” John asked.
“Yeah, Mary’s little baby.”
“What’s he called, ‘Jesus’?”
Paul chuckled. “Arthur. I love him. But it’s not the same as being a parent. Maybe it’s better.”
“Listen, come up to New York,” John told him. “I need to see you.”
“I’m not sure I really wanna fly all the way to America right now.”
“Alright, alright, I’ll come to you.”
When the conversation reached a comfortable end, John clicked the hang up button and slid his phone away from him.
Well, now he had to get ready to go on a plane.
He found his wife, who was still in bed.
He gave her a kiss on the forehead. She opened her eyes.
“Morning,” she said quietly.
“Morning,” he replied.
Yoko sat up, stretching. John sat beside her, cuddling her. She kissed him.
“Have you been eating ice cream?” she asked.
“Yeah,” John smiled. “That’s what breakfast is like in this futuristic world.”
Yoko chuckled lightly. “Okay.”
They went back to kissing.
“I’m gonna fly to London to check up on Paul,” John said. “I just bloody hope the New Year hasn’t broken the planes.”
“Do you want me to come?” Yoko asked.
“If you’d like. I need to see what he needs though.”
“If you need one-on-one time, I understand. I’ve got plenty of projects to work on.”
John kissed her. “I love you, Yoko.”
“I love you too, John.”
Paul was living alone, which John didn’t think was fantastic for his health. Apparently, his children visited often. Still, John couldn’t imagine the loneliness.
When Paul answered the door, he and John embraced. A tight squeeze that lasted longer than your average greeting hug.
John took Paul’s hand, and with his other hand, John trailed his fingers over the wall lined with photos of Linda, Paul’s kids, and some of John. Fingers interloped with Paul’s left hand, he could feel the wedding ring still sitting proudly.
They wandered into the living room, where four puppies bounced up on John’s legs.
“Who are these?” John asked, giving them pats.
“Oh, my new kids,” Paul said.
“Right,” John continued patting them until they calmed down.
“Wanna have a smoke and a chat?” Paul asked.
He dug around and pulled out a joint.
“I’ve been trying this new thing called Not Doing Drugs, but… I can have a cheat day,” John shrugged. “Y’know, I haven’t even had a ciggie since, uh, since George’s diagnosis. Finally gave me the kick in the nuts I needed.”
Paul hummed. “Yeah, I haven’t had a ciggie in a long while, and I don’t miss it. Pot, though…”
“Yeah, pot is pot.”
“James has gotten into drugs,” Paul said seriously.
“And your other kids haven’t?” John raised an eyebrow. “Everybody does drugs. It was a little disorienting that time Sean called me when he was high off his tits at a party, but, y’know, it’s their lives.”
“No, I don’t just mean recreationally. I mean he’s barely sober. He even got into ketamine.”
“Oh,” John frowned. “I guess he’s grieving.”
“He is. But it’s scary. That’s my baby.”
John patted Paul’s back. “You’ve just gotta be there for him.”
“Yeah,” Paul sighed, looking down at the joint in his hand. “Did I mess up? Am I a bad role model?”
“It doesn’t matter now, does it? And you’re mostly only into cannabis, that’s nothing. At least you weren’t doing heroin when you had a little kid.”
Paul lit the joint, eyes zoned in on the flame. “I don’t enjoy being sober right now either.”
“I know,” John said, taking the joint and having a puff. “And I’m here to stop you from killing yourself.”
Paul tsked. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“Not while I’m here, you won’t.”
They sat down on the sofa, hips and thighs touching, passing the joint back and forth.
John smiled when his mind felt light and his body felt heavy. “Sweet, sweet insobriety.”
Paul leaned his head on the side of John’s. “Feels much less depressing to get high with someone else.”
John chuckled. “This house is depressing, Macca. Need to liven it up. Have some parties.”
“Yeah, because I’m in just the mood to be a party animal,” Paul drawled sarcastically.
John hungrily sucked on the end of the joint. “What about all those girls you say you have?”
“Well, I’m not taking them home with me. Feels sacrilegious to fuck them here.”
John giggled. “Maybe Linda enjoys watching it, you don’t know.”
“No,” Paul crossed his arms. “No.”
“Let’s have another joint, shall we?”
Paul nodded in agreement. John got up to grab the supplies.
“Maybe a few pints,” John added with a smirk. “A couple lines of coke.”
“Oh no, I’ve brought out the druggie Johnny,” Paul joked.
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” John said as he started rolling a joint.
He passed it over to Paul, settling beside him again, one leg tossed over Paul’s knees because he could.
“Sometimes I’m scared I’m losing my marbles,” Paul admitted as he gave the joint to John.
“I assure you, you lost them all at least 30 years ago.”
“Yeah, but… I feel like she’s still with me.”
“She is,” John said, looking into Paul’s eyes with an unwavering expression. “She is.”
Paul maintained eye contact. He seemed to simultaneously have so much hope and hopelessness in his eyes.
“That’s why I think it’s too soon for you to be dating,” John looked away again to the joint, having a drag.
“What else am I supposed to do with myself?”
John glanced at him, eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t know.”
“I’m thinking about a film.”
“A film?”
“Yeah, I’ve started writing one. I’m gonna star in it. You can star in it too.”
“What’s it about?”
“Someone stealing the master tapes for my new album. And if I don’t get them back, some evil bloke will take over the record company, which’ll be the end of my career. I’ll have to busk outside train stations.”
John cackled. “What?”
Paul pouted. “It’s a good idea, you’ll see.”
“Me book’s got a better plot than that.”
“And what’s your book about?”
“Two detectives on acid, tryna solve a murder.”
“Why are they on acid?”
“Why not?” John shrugged. “Why do you think you’d have to resort to busking if you lost your tapes?”
“Well, because.”
John had a long drag of the joint, snuggling closer to Paul. His silly man.
“You really haven’t been writing any music?” Paul asked.
“Of course I’ve been writing a bit of music,” John replied. “Some grunge like that Cobain guy. And I actually wrote a couple rap songs recently.”
Paul laughed. “Serious?”
“Yeah, I think it’s great,” John grinned. “Not like it’s really me first time anyway. I mean, what’s Give Peace A Chance?”
“Well, you can be the next Eminem,” Paul smiled, reaching over to play with John’s greying hair.
“Except I don’t really wanna release them, y’know? Unlike you, I don’t wanna show the world every scrap I come up with.”
Paul frowned. “I throw away plenty of music too, y’know.”
“Then how the fuck do you release so much as well?”
Paul shrugged. “They’re just always wriggling their way into my head, playing at my nerves ‘til I get them out. And if I ever stopped - if they built up inside of me without a release - well, I just don’t know.”
“We’ll make a poet of you and your blue musical balls yet.”
Paul wrapped his arm around John’s shoulders. “Wanna watch telly?”
John looked at the clock. It was past 1am.
“Always,” he replied.
They turned on the TV where they found Star Trek VI playing. They squished closer together, cuddling as they watched the space communists fight for peace.
John lit another joint when they finished their last one. He seemed to have stirred something in his brain that wanted to be blitzed. Paul was happy to keep smoking too.
Paul laid his head on John’s lap and closed his eyes. John combed his fingers through Paul’s moptop-like hair, massaging his scalp.
“I missed you,” Paul said quietly. “I’m lonely.”
“I know. I missed you too. I shouldn’t have left your side.”
“Then don’t leave again.”
John found his breath hitching.
“I won’t,” he promised.
Tenderness settled in the air. Neither felt the need to break it with jokes or such.
“Are you hungry?” Paul asked after a long moment.
“Yeah.”
A combination of bad knees and heavy limbs made it mightily difficult to stand up, but they managed it. They slung their arms around each other’s shoulders as they made the journey to the kitchen. They grabbed a bunch of snacks, and then went back to the sofa.
When they got back, John absentmindedly flicked through the channels as he picked up a handful of popcorn. A film called Love And Other Catastrophes was playing. There was a version of Romeo and Juliet with Leonardo DiCaprio on another channel. Then he flicked to a film about some people in the Stone Age.
John and Paul’s eyes widened and they laughed when they saw a certain someone on screen.
“Hey, it’s Richie,” Paul grinned.
“Oh, fuck, yeah, I remember this from back in the 80s,” John giggled. “What’s it doing playing right now?”
“I dunno, but we’ve gotta keep watching.”
They wrapped their arms around each other as they watched their former bandmate on the screen.
They finished off the popcorn very quickly and opened a packet of crisps.
“I’m gonna go on tour again,” Paul said, eyes on Ringo.
“Don’t, Paul,” John told him. “Why?”
“‘Cause I need to.”
“Nobody ever needs to go on tour. You can stay at home, nice and comfy.”
“This home is not comfy. This home is fucking depressing. I need to go out with women, and into the world.”
“But you don’t.”
“But I do.”
“But you don’t.”
“But I do.”
They both giggled.
“I forgot what we were arguing about,” John said.
“I’m going on tour,” Paul reminded him.
“No, you’re not.”
“I am, y’know.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Just because you haven’t toured since ‘81 doesn’t mean none of us can.”
“You’re in mourning, Paul. You need to take the time to feel your feelings.”
“This is how I get out of mourning, John. Y’know, instead of staying at home, killing my liver, I can get out there. And anyway, I don’t think I’ll ever really stop grieving, but I can’t just stop my whole life.”
John resigned, snuggling his head against Paul’s shoulder. “Alright. I give me blessing. I’m just worried.”
“I know,” Paul stroked John’s hair. “Thank you.”
Later, they were both yawning, barely keeping their eyes open. The puppies were sleeping in a pile beside them.
“Let’s go to bed,” Paul said, stretching.
John slid his eyes open. “I’m sleeping with you.”
“I expected as much.”
They dragged themselves upstairs and into Paul’s bed. John rolled another joint on the covers.
“Mother’s gonna be so mad about all this pot I’m smoking,” John chuckled to himself as he lit the joint.
Paul glanced at him. “Then don’t tell her.”
“Genius,” John grinned, but then he frowned. “No, I’d better tell her. I need her to whip me arse, because it’s not good, y’know.”
Paul shrugged.
“Y’know, Yoko hasn’t even gotten high in god knows how long,” John said. “The woman is a goddess because I don’t know how anybody does that. Richie's a bit of a god too then.”
Paul took the joint and had a drag. “Y’know, I don’t know how either.”
When they finished the joint, they wrapped their limbs together and drifted to sleep.
In the morning, John and Paul stayed in bed. They cuddled, eyes still closed.
“Morning,” Paul said, squeezing John tightly.
“Morning,” John replied softly.
John inhaled Paul’s scent. Still so familiar and comforting after all these years.
Eventually, they started shifting. They sat up, leaning their sides against each other.
“I’m not doing drugs today,” John decided. “And I’m gonna look after you.”
They got out of bed, and made their way downstairs.
“What do you want for breakfast?” John asked.
“Maybe eggs,” Paul said.
“Have you ever thought about going vegan?” John asked as he got a carton of eggs out of Paul’s fridge.
“Thought about it, yeah. But I like the idea of letting animals contribute something to society.”
John gave him a funny look. “Sometimes I’m vegan.”
“Did you wanna be vegan today?”
“No, I’m itching for some eggs now,” John said, putting the frying pan on the stove. “Could add some mushrooms, make it fancy. Have you got mushrooms?”
Paul smirked. “What kind do you want?”
“Oh, y’know, just a little psilocybin to kickstart our day,” John joked.
John made an omelette with mushrooms, and served it out on a slice of wholegrain bread, topped with alfalfa sprouts.
“Got any grapefruits?” John asked.
“Don’t think so.”
“Did you know you can lose weight by eating half a grapefruit before every meal? It’s even better with eggs.”
Paul raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”
“Yeah. Grapefruits are great for everything. I would know; Yoko loves them.”
Paul lightly laughed at John as he sat down to eat.
John turned on the radio. George Michael was playing.
“He’s gay, y’know,” John nodded to the radio as he sat down.
“I heard,” Paul smiled.
“I love it when a musician comes out,” John said. “One of these days, we’re all gonna be LGBT.”
“I’ve actually been thinking about coming out as bisexual,” Paul said.
John gaped a little in surprise. Of course, John knew everything there was to know about Paul’s sexuality, but he hadn’t expected that Paul would ever consider telling the world.
John grinned. “Do it.”
“I’m scared, though, y’know.”
“You’ll be fine. I got less hate for coming out as bisexual than being with Yoko, y’know,” John said. “Just do it. Take a risk for once.”
“I don’t know,” Paul shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe when I’m in a better headspace.”
“Oh, that reminds me,” John smirked, “this fan wrote to me, telling me to check out her website, so I did. Ended up finding a webring of Beatlesites from there. And boy did I find a website. There was one all about why you and me should be together.”
“You and me?”
“Yeah, you and me.”
“Don’t they normally want themselves to be with us, not us to be with us?”
“Yeah, usually, but not these guys.”
Paul laughed, though it quickly tittered off.
John ate the last of his eggs. He looked up at Paul. “Do you ever think we could’ve?”
John meant, what if they had hooked up? That was all. What if they had? They had such a pull to each other, it would have been easy. And John had been with men; had been with men when at the same he had felt an electricity in his blood for Paul. But John hadn’t been with anyone except Yoko since the beginning of 1975, and he was content.
Paul glanced to the side, then back at John. “Sometimes. But it’s too late now, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, too late,” John leaned back in his chair. “You’re me best mate, I’m happy. Don’t wanna ruin that again.”
Paul stacked their plates and brought them to the sink.
“Do you wanna go out somewhere?” John asked.
“Where do you have in mind?” Paul asked.
“I don’t know. You know what’s around, I don’t.”
Paul shrugged. “We could always just go on a walk, take the dogs.”
“Yeah, sounds good. I think being outdoors will be good for you.”
They put on coats, held hands, and took a puppy each.
They spread out, arms still conjoined, to walk either side of a puddle, then merged again.
“Did you hear there’s a woman running for president next- this year? With the Democrats,” John said.
“Yeah, read all about it on your blog,” Paul replied. “You’ve really been pushing to get a woman in.”
John smiled. “You read me blog?”
“‘Course I do.”
“Yeah, now I’ve just gotta get people to vote for her, don’t want that Bush fucker,” John said. “Y’know, I voted for the first time in the last election.”
“Oh, did you?”
“There’s never been anyone running who I completely agree with, but I thought ‘fuck it’ and went with the lesser evil, y’know? And he got in and did some good, so there’s that.”
Paul vaguely nodded along like he was bored.
John looked at him and laughed a little. “I forget you don’t give a shit about politics.”
“I give a shit!” Paul defended. “Just not really my area. And I’m not American.”
“Yeah, yeah. But everything’s political, even your silly love songs,” John teased.
“Yeah, I guess, in a way.”
John picked up Paul’s hand and inspected it. “When’d you get so wrinkly?”
“Look who’s talking,” Paul snickered as he flipped their hands around so John could see his own.
“You look older than me.”
“Ha, no. You, 59-year-old man, look like you’re in your 70s.”
John gaped in mock-offence. “I do not!”
“You’re losing most your hair.”
“I have a decent amount. And your haircut, by the way, is not doing you any favours.”
“I’m in mourning.”
“I just don’t think being in mourning is a good enough excuse to let yourself go.”
They grinned at each other before they carried on walking. John’s puppy barked at some cars, John told her to calm down.
“I’ve been thinking about playing at the Cavern again,” Paul mused.
“Okay, let’s go,” John started tugging on Paul, though he didn’t know what direction the Cavern Club was from there. He felt it a necessity to encourage Paul’s whims.
“I didn’t mean right now!”
“When else?”
“You think we can just rock up?”
“Of course we can just rock up. We’re the face of rock.”
“You wanna do it too?”
“Why not?”
“Let’s go then.”
Paul started heading back to the house, but John stopped. A spike of anxiety ran through him at the thought of performing in front of a crowd of unsuspecting strangers. And who was to know if he still had the spark of stage presence? In his mind, rockstars were in their 20s. And, the last time he had publicly performed was at Live Aid with Paul 15 years ago.
“I changed me mind,” John said, his feet firmly planted on the ground. “I don’t feel like it.”
“Oh, come on,” Paul pouted.
“Did you ever imagine, in your 20s, that you would get old and still be rocking?”
“Of course not. But here we are, rocking. Or, I am. I don’t feel all that old yet, though.”
“I might get back to it one day. I have a feeling 2020’s gonna be a good year. It's a nice number.”
“So you’re gonna wait 20 years, huh?”
“Yeah, maybe, if I don’t have tuberculosis by then. Maybe then we’ll have the Beatles reunion everyone’s still begging for,” John said. “Oh wait, fucking George. He’d better get better, y’know.”
Paul looked at the ground. “Yeah.”
“I should turn him onto shark cartilage supplements. I still think that would’ve worked for Linda if she weren’t so vegetarian. Sharks don’t get cancer,” John said, but regretted it the moment it fell out of his mouth.
“Yeah, well, the holistic medicine and the mainstream medicine didn’t work so well for her, so…” Paul muttered with an edge to his voice.
John cringed, and hugged Paul. “Sorry, mate.”
They went back inside. Paul curled up on the sofa with a puppy. John joined him, wrapping his arms around him. His heart tapped against Paul’s back. They both felt warm and safe.
“I love you,” John said.
“Yeah,” Paul said. “I love you too.”
The days went on. John wouldn’t leave Paul’s side. Paul would barely let John leave his side anyway. Paul made music, John watched. John played Diablo, Paul watched. They jammed together, they watched TV together, they played board games together, they cooked for each other. They were at home with each other.
John and Paul sat at a table in the living room. A TLC CD played in the background.
Paul moved his queen, looking into John’s eyes with a smirk. The eye contact lasted a little longer than usual, but not uncomfortably.
“Very stupid move, old man,” John said as he took Paul’s queen with his rook.
“Oh yeah?” Paul moved his bishop. “Check.”
John protected his king with a pawn.
Paul looked into his eyes again, grinning. John grinned back as a power move.
“I think I’m in love with you,” Paul said, casually.
John’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”
Paul moved his knight. “Checkmate.”
“What? Serious?” John inspected the chessboard. “Fucking hell.”
He looked back up at Paul, who was proudly leaning back with his arms crossed.
“What?” John repeated.
“I won,” Paul said.
“No, what did you say before?”
“Oh. I’m in love with you,” Paul reached over and threaded his fingers between John’s.
John shook his head. “You can’t say that.”
“But I did! And…” Paul glanced away, “it was a little scary.”
“You're grieving, mate. Your head’s muddled.”
“I don't think it is.”
“Even if you were in love with me, what are we supposed to do about that?”
“I don’t know,” Paul murmured. “I just wanted you to know.”
“Well… Thank you for letting me know.”
A pause before they both laughed at how absurd the situation felt.
John stood up and hugged Paul, tight.
John already knew he was in love with Paul too. When he looked at him, he always had that thrumming of electricity inside him. He made him feel soft and light. They were like an old married couple. But what did it matter now?
John wasn’t sure he wanted to tell Paul about it. He was grieving, which meant maybe it wouldn’t be so good for him to be thinking he had another shot at some great love story. It was probably better to remain as friends.
John ended the hug, patting Paul’s back.
“The new episode of Buffy’s about to start,” John said.
“Alright, let’s go watch,” Paul nodded.
John took Paul’s hand, and they moved to the sofa.
Watching TV with their heads leaning against each other, things felt normal and pleasant. Still, the back of John’s mind was whirring. It was all a bit much.
John felt like Paul had just kicked him in the guts. He wasn’t sure how to handle the knowledge that Paul wanted him the same way he wanted Paul.
Later, John had his daily phone call with Yoko.
“I miss you,” John mumbled into the phone.
“I miss you too,” Yoko said. “Do you want me to come over?”
“I don’t wanna make Paul jealous,” John glanced at Paul, who was feeding dinner to the dogs. “He’s… in a weird headspace.”
Yoko hummed in understanding. “He needs to feel his own pain so he can process it. It sounds like he’s been avoiding it.”
“Yeah, I’ve been tryna tell him that, but I…” John looked down. “I think I should just come home. He told me not to leave him, but… I just don’t know what he needs. How am I supposed to know what he needs?”
“What do you need, first?”
“I need you…” John sighed deeply. “He told me he’s in love with me.”
Yoko paused, inhaling. “Ah. And what did you say?”
“I said ‘okay’. Because what else am I supposed to say? I didn’t think I should tell him I love him back, even though I… I do.”
Yoko paused again.
John panicked and added, “I love you too! Obviously.”
“I know, John,” Yoko said like she was amused that John had to clarify that. “But, no, I don’t think Paul would be ready for that.”
“I wanna come home, but this house is so empty, I don’t know if he’ll be okay. At least he has dogs, but it seems so lonely.”
“Even when you’re around people, grief is lonely. And, you don’t have to be his only support. His kids visit, don’t they? He has other friends.”
“But I’m his best friend,” John started tearing up. “I have to be there for him, always. I shouldn’t have ever left his side.”
“John… You remember what we learnt back when we started having problems. Space can be healing.”
“Now I feel like I have to choose between you and him again, and I don’t wanna.”
“That’s not what this is,” Yoko said calmly. “If you’re feeling overwhelmed with everything, and you want to come home, then how are you going to be a good support for him?”
John wiped his eyes. “How is it that you know everything?”
Yoko chuckled. “I just learn things. We’re all learning, all the time.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“If you can give him some support to keep him going until the next time you see him, then that’s the best thing you can do for him.”
“Yeah. Thank you,” John nibbled on his hair. “And, Yoko? What do you think about him being in love with me?”
“Well, I think you and Paul have always had a very close relationship. I always knew you loved each other very much,” Yoko said. And with a little laugh, “I never thought Paul would be brave enough to say it.”
John laughed too. “Neither did I.”
“I love you, John.”
“I love you too.”
John hung up and wiped his eyes dry. He walked over to Paul and squeezed him.
“I’m gonna go home,” John said gently.
Paul pulled away from the hug and blinked at John. “What? Is this about what I said? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have.”
“No, no,” John shook his head and smiled. “I’m glad you told me. I just… am a bit overwhelmed, and I don’t think I can be all the support you need at the moment.”
Paul looked down and hummed noncommittally.
“But I’ll tell you what,” John said, “what you should do is meditate. Be present with your feelings, y’know? If you need to write them out as songs, okay. I just don’t think you should use songs to avoid them. Maybe get yourself some Bach flower remedies too.”
Paul nodded, still quiet.
“And if you really need me, you can call me any time,” John promised. “And if you really really need me, I’ll come visit again for a bit. I’ll visit again anyway. But I think you’ve got this.”
Paul hugged him again, their hearts hammering against each other’s chests.
“Thank you, Johnny,” he said into John’s shoulder. “Send me a copy of your book when you’ve finished it.”
“I will. I love you, mate,” John said. “And I know, intuitively, that you and I have a lot of time ahead of us. Things are gonna get better for both of us.”