Chapter 4: Officially Weirded Out

Stu Sutcliffe was absolutely certain that something was not right with his best mate.

The two had been friends for quite a while now, being as they were schoolmates. Stu always admired John's brazen personality; Lennon always came off as if there was not a thing in the world that would frighten him. Stu nonchalantly took a leaf from his book, trying to act the same. He already had that cool aura about him but he figured he could go for the bold look.

John also had the twisted sense of humor Stu developed himself, though it was more pronounced when in John's presence. They would laugh at the most ridiculous things and no one else would understand why it was funny. That was why they took to spending much time with one another. They understood each other and all of the quirks they had. Stu sometimes looked at his friend as the brother he never had. John Lennon and Stu Sutcliffe were an unconventional pair but best friends nonetheless.

Now, however, Stu watched with increasing concern as John acted like…well, not John.

It started that day in December, when Stu and the lads decided to visit John at Mimi's. First, there's the fact that he thought he was dead. Obviously he wasn't if he was able to question whether or not he was in fact a departed soul. He must have had some killer nightmare if he believed he was going to wake up dead (Stu mentally chuckled at the horrible contradiction).

Then there was the way John somehow knew what Stu was going to say. He played it off as some sort of coincidental twin telepathy thing (Stu snorted) but there had to be something more to it. The way he froze up with that dumb look on his face was proof enough. Even more, there was also when Paul confessed to using the old McCartney charm to win over the girl down the block from him.

"Oh right, yeah," John muttered indifferently.

Stu thought nothing of it until Paul gave their friend a strange look. "Don't you care?"

"Should I?"

"You only told me about a million times that I should stop blabbering and shag her!"

"So?"

"I expected some sort of praise from you or somethin'," Paul said with eyes narrowed and arms crossed. "You act like you somehow magically knew or you don't care at all."

John rolled his eyes and then smiled. "I knew you had it in ya Paulie!" He clapped the younger man on the back before raising his nearly empty glass. "I propose a toast to Mr. McCartney here, the sleaziest lad in Liverpool!"

"The sleaziest!" The others chorused back, clinking their glasses together. After the impromptu toast, they resumed laughing and joking around about random things. Paul smiled proudly at his accomplishment and recognition while Stu stared skeptically at John. There was something that did not sit right with him.

Then there was the time the two were returning home after a long night of heavy drinking. The tipsy duo roamed the streets of a sleeping Liverpool while belting the words of a Little Richard song at top volume. John fumbled over the lyrics and Stu, while making fun of him, suddenly slipped in an icy puddle, landing roughly against the ground. For a moment he was sure he saw John crack a smile through the haze of pain he felt but he instantly sobered, crouching beside him.

"Are you alright?" John asked, helping him into a sitting position.

"I guess, yeah," Stu answered, rubbing the back of his throbbing head with a wince. "Me head hurts like hell, though."

"We should probably get some ice for that."

Stu nodded, grimacing as the pain reared itself once more. This was sure putting a damper on his giddy intoxication. "I'll be fine. You know, I half expected you to take the mickey."

John stood, offering his hand to help his friend up. "Nah, that looked like a pretty nasty fall. I can if you want me to," he offered with a grin.

"No thanks. Let's just leave."

Another thing Stu noticed that was odd, though not at all unsettling (well, maybe it is unsettling because it was John) was the suddenly uplifted mood. John seemed to be all smiles, laughing at the littlest jokes that weren't even funny or ruffling George's hair as the younger boy scowled vehemently. He seemed generally happy about every thing when before, he was a slightly moody sort. He was even cheerful about the tattered leather jacket he had previously told Stu he despised and planned to be rid of. That was a confusing turn of events. But what threw Stu off completely was the way he carried himself with this newfound emotion. Honestly, what bloke went skipping anywhere? While humming show tunes at that! He wasn't even aware that John knew show tunes.

Most intriguing indeed.

Now, a few months later, the pair was living together in a tiny apartment where Stu was able to see all of John's strangeness up close day in and day out. But he was too distracted with their new freedom to pay much attention. Living on their own was an extremely liberating experience. Every night was one big party—they could now get completely pissed without having to explain to their elders and do whatever (or whomever) they pleased, sans the annoying task of answering to whoever was in charge. They filled that position now.

Who knew what trouble they would get themselves into?

The band, plus Lucy and whatever girlfriends the guys had that week, had taken to meeting up at the diner every Saturday night. It was a place for them all to escape life for a few hours, a place where nothing mattered other than them all being together. Stu wouldn't admit it to anyone but he genuinely liked the time spent with them all there—it was actually…nice. The group was a family of sorts to him. They accepted him with open arms (maybe except for Paul) without judging his character because they were all like him. He liked the bizarre conversations they had and how everyone made him laugh. It was impossible to be down in their presence. But he would never tell anyone that. Especially not John. Well, maybe the "new" John, as he had taken to calling him, wouldn't call him a queer for that comment anymore. He wasn't willing to find out, though.

He had been sitting in a booth one night, his arm around a pretty girl he didn't really care for, talking to Paul and George about something unimportant. They could have been discussing flying monkeys for all he knew; he was barely paying attention. At that moment John walked in looking worse for wear.

"John!" the boys shouted obnoxiously as he sat down.

"Hello lads, girl I do not know," John greeted with a nod in their direction.

"Hey John," Stu piped up, leaning forward. "I wanted to ask you something."

"Shoot."

That simple word uttered from his own lips had John in a sudden tizzy. He had fallen asleep before he was to meet his friends and of course, he was thrown right back into that horrible nightmare. This time, however, he saw it from the point of view of an outsider. Somehow, it was even more terrifying that way. He watched as his murderer came closer, pulling the gun out and aiming it directly at him. He saw as the first bullet missed him completely, wedging itself into the wall behind him. But the next rounds hit their target. He stood rooted to the spot, horrified, as he saw himself stagger forward before collapsing. He wrenched his eyes away from the pitiful sight and found Yoko, screaming miserably at the sight of her husband. What sent his blood boiling was the calm manner Mark Chapman held, as if he did not care at all that he had just ruined someone's life. He simply removed his coat and hat and sat on the sidewalk, waiting. The amount of disgust John felt at that moment was unbearable.

"Do you know what you've done?" the doorman demanded after ripping the gun away from the deranged man.

"Yes, I just shot John Lennon," he replied coolly. For one crazy second, John thought Chapman looked directly at him, the current John rather than the slowly dying John.

That was when he woke up screaming.

"…and the mongoose flew up the giant's nose before the giant sneezed it out in a storm of colorful snot," Stu was saying. John jerked his head up, staring confusedly at his mate.

"What?"

"I knew you weren't listening," Stu sighed. "What's up with you, man? You've been zoning out all week."

"I've just…I've got a lot on me mind," he replied, hanging his head. "I'm sorry. What was it you wanted to tell me?"

"Never mind." Stu turned and engaged in conversation with the girl beside him. John frowned, feeling slightly put out. He couldn't help it that these dreams were consuming his every thought.

The door chimed open, causing John to look for the new arrival. A broad grin spread across his face as he realized who it was: standing uncertainly in the doorway searching for someone was Cynthia Powell. Though he had only seen her last week, he had missed her like crazy. He nearly forgot how beautiful she was with her long blond hair pulled into a bun and bright rosy cheeks that would redden even more as soon as John complimented her. He found her easy embarrassment quite endearing.

"Cynthia!" he called, waving her over. Her eyes lit up as she found him. She walked over to their table, a smile on her face.

"Hello John, boys," she waved timidly to the others.

"Hullo Cyn!"

"Here, let me get that for ya," John said, pulling up a chair for her. As she seated herself with the aid of John, Stu, who had been taking a rather large gulp of his carbonated beverage, suddenly spit the liquid out in shock. Unfortunately, George was in his line of fire.

"Ugh, Stu, this is disgusting!" George exclaimed, dabbing at his face with a napkin.

"What the hell just happened?" Stu spluttered with eyes wide. "Did John just do something, dare I say, polite?"

"Yes?" Cynthia answered, staring at him in puzzlement.

"I am officially weirded out," Stu announced, slamming his cup down and standing. "You!" he shouted, pointing to someone behind John.

"Me?" Lucy, who had just entered, looked at Stu as if he were crazy.

"Can I have a word?"

"Um, I suppose. What's this about?" She never got her answer as he grabbed her arm and carted her back out of the building. She glanced at the others, silently begging for help, but they merely shrugged.

"What is your problem, Sutcliffe?" she demanded once they were outside.

"There's something wrong with John," he told her franticly.

"What? Is he alright?"

"No-I mean yes-I mean I don't know what I mean!"

"You've lost me."

He sighed and ran a hand through his unruly hair. "He's been acting funny lately. He's all…different. He's been all happy and giddy and spaced out and psychic about certain things and not caring about Paul screwing some bird and—"

"I don't see why this is a bad thing," she told him bluntly.

He pulled her in front of a window facing their friends and jabbed a finger at the laughing John. "You see that in there? That is not John! The John I know would've made a fuss about someone's latest conquest or laughed his ass off at me falling down drunk and he sure as hell wouldn't go skipping around the town or pull a chair out for no girl!"

"Maybe he's in love," Lucy answered with a shrug.

Stu snorted. "Love or not, he would not do these things."

"Have you talked to him? And I've failed to see why you're taking this up with me."

"Because it started the day we ran into you!" he exclaimed as if it were an obvious thing.

Lucy glared at him. "Are you saying this is my fault?"

"Yes."

"But you also said he did weird things before you saw me. So it's clearly not me."

He leaned against the wall, dejected. "What am I gonna do? What's wrong with him?" he asked as he lit a cigarette."

She stood beside him and stared out at the murky skies. "He's from the future."

Stu stared at her, waiting for the rest of the joke. She turned to him, eyes absolutely serious. He burst out laughing.

"That's a good one, Lou," he commented, wiping tears of mirth from his eye.

She shrugged. "Fine, don't believe me. Can we go back inside now? I'm cold."

He nodded before putting out the cigarette with the toe of his boot and taking Lucy's arm, leading her inside.

"What was that all about?" Paul asked, picking through a plate of French fries before him.

"Stu just losing his mind," Lucy answered with a dismissive wave of her hand. She plopped into a chair and stole the plate from an objecting Paul.

"He never had it to begin with, did he?" John said with a smirk. "I was convinced he was mental ages ago. Hey Stu, I thought I was gonna have to replace you what with you choking and all that. You would've missed your big break but we would be better off," he added with a wink.

Stu ignored the jibe and grinned, finally feeling like his friend was back.

He missed the significant look John and Lucy shared.