1969
"John...please..." He whispered, reaching out his hand as his best friend turned his back on him. "Don't go..."
"All good things must come to an end, eh Paulie?" He laughed bitterly, not even looking up. "It was good, no, it was great. The Beatles, the songs, the places, the fans, us..." He trailed off, finally looking up fondly.
"Don't say that, it doesn't have to end! This is special, what we have is special. I can't live without it, you know." Paul's shoulders slumped as they carried all of the world's weight. "I can't live without you..."
"I guess you'll have to try your best. It's over, all of it is over. That's all there is to it." John turned around, still refusing to meet his gaze. "I don't want any of it to be over! The Beatles, the music, us! I love them all too much to lose them so fast! I love you!" Tears streamed down the guitarist's face as he reached out towards him.
"I know you do, Macca. I know you do." John looked into his eyes, a single tear gleaming under his round frames. "I know..." No more words were spoken as hands ran through hair and lips connected softly.
And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make
