Hello!
Today I arrived home with the imperious need of writing something about John and Paul, I was listening to a song that made me think about them and their relationship and I couldn't help but write.
Hope you enjoy!
There he was, in front of thousands of people who were waiting for him to sing.
Guitar in hand, eyes fixed on the crowd.
He could perfectly feel a lump in the throat, how he could end up puking the toast and coffee he had wrongly decided to have that morning.
God, why had he decided to sing that song? It definitely meant too much for him, but, was he really prepared to show it to the rest of the world? His brownish orbs scrutinized with worry the first row, then, the whole theatre. Everything had gone silent in just a few seconds.
It seemed as he had returned to the morning of the 9 of December, when he turned on the television and the first words he heard were: "John Lennon, the famous ex-member of the worldwide famous rock band, The Beatles, was declared dead yesterday…" Everything around him collapsed, for God's sake, how could possibly John fucking Lennon be dead?
At first, he didn't cry, he sat there, awestruck, with his eyes still watching that stupid program, his ears not receiving a single word, trembling.
His first thought was wondering if George and Ringo would already know. Probably no. It was too early, though he had completely lost the notion of time.
He felt rage, hollow… If he could only have in front of him that son of a bitch, Mark Chapman, even though he knew, in some way, that wouldn't help to make him feel better. He remembered standing up, walking like a programmed robot towards the phone.
He waited, one tone, two tones…
- Hello?
- Yoko?
- Paul? God. Have you…?
- I have… -Paul answered with a gasp. - I'm so sorry… I…
- He really appreciated you, you know?
That was too much. He hung up, without realising tears were rolling down his cheeks and chin.
Of course he knew John appreciated him, but he didn't want Yoko to tell him, he needed the voice of that certain liverpudlian to say those words.
It was hard to make his heart understand that it wasn't possible.
He had lost his parents… Wasn't that punishment enough?
At that moment, mourning, it seemed the end of music, the demolition of an important part of his world.
But he finally got over it. He believed he fixed himself.
Well, that was a merciful lie, people can't get over death, they just lock up that overwhelming feeling and keep their minds busy in something else.
What's the best way? No one knows yet.
What kept his world on turning were memories. Sometimes memories hurt, they still did, like an open wound, but he had made a silent promise in the corner of the room where we cried his lost peer, his best friend, his soulmate.
Not only had he made a promise to himself, but to John too, he would make the world remember his name, people would know John Lennon even after fifty years of his death.
He knew John would have liked his music to survive.
Paul didn't need to make such an effort, since his friend had already booked a place beyond eternity.
The light coming from the spotlight made him blink several times, returning to the real world, with people who had paid great amounts of money just for listening to his songs.
He played a few chords, shivers running down his spine for what was about to come.
His whole world was shaking again, and he knew it wouldn't get better with the years.
- The next song… It's a very special one. A song I wrote for a very close friend who died victim of fame and the weight his words had in society. This song… -He took some seconds, wetting his lips.- Goes for a man that must be remembered not just for being part of The Beatles, but for changing our concept of music, for fighting in the name of peace, for changing our world.
Paul lifted his eyes, slightly coughing to hide the trembling of his voice. He raised a finger, showing the smile of a broken man.
- Are you listening, John? This song is for you.
A big hand began, and as it started, it ended, interrupted by the first chords of Here Today.
He was in front of those fans he didn't know, publicly declaring that he loved, loves and will always love John Lennon.
He imagined this man with him, smiling from the corner, maybe nodding in approval.
He busted into tears in the middle of the song, when he saw a young woman from the first row sobbing, holding tight the hand of her companion.
Paul finished his performance, thanking everybody, and leaving the stage with rush, feeling how his legs would be willing to give in under his weight.
It was an odd feeling, although comforting.
From backstage, he gazed once more at the theatre, cleaning with a handkerchief the sweat drops that, with dry tears had stained his skin.
He smiled with sadness, knowing that he will keep singing that song on stage, since it was his best tribute for John.
It was a tough task, but he shared his love for John with the rest of the world.
Lennon was standing in the Hall Of Fame. The world knew his name. There was no need to worry, because, people never die…
… they live forever in all the things they created.
The end. *sobs* Anything about them makes me sad.
Reviews?
Thank you!
Written by Shee.