What are you?"Paul?"
"What are you?"
"What are you?"
"Well, John, I'm a human being, in case you haven't noticed, and I'm a-"
"No, no. Idiot. I mean, what are you?"
"I'm not following ya, darling."
"Well, okay, put it this way; are you my boyfriend? 'Cause that sounds bloody stupid."
"Err, I don't know, Johnny. You decide?"
"Hm Seeing as I'm in love with you 'n all, I suppose that qualifies you to being more than just me best mate, or 'some guy I occasionally shag'."
"You're most welcome."
"So, what am I then?"
"That's what I don't know!"
"How about... Lover?"
"Pfft. What are you, a girl?"
"No, I was thinking more like... Lover boy."
"Are you giving me your bedroom eyes, Paul?"
"Why, yes, I think I am."
"Well, stop it, they're distracting me. I'm trying to think here."
"It's hard, y'know."
"Well, let's just settle for boyfriend, then?"
"Do you want to be 'that guy I threw off the bloody balcony'?"
"Fucking hell, I was just kidd
"Thanks," Paul said shortly, preoccupied with the pen and paper on the table in front of him, though he couldn't really help but letting a smile spread slightly over his lips.
"I'm drunk." John almost sounded surprised, as if this fact just occurred to him.
"How much did I drink?"
"I dunno. An ocean, probably."
John started giggling so hysterically he rolled off the bed with a loud thump. A moment's silence followed, then John said again as he sat himself up on the carpeted floor;
"Mhm?" the younger man answered, having barely noticed John's little accident.
"You're really pretty."
"You too, Johnny."
"I'm in love with you, Paul."
A warm feeling managed to cut through his focus at this, filling him up and causing a smile to sneak into his features once again, but not being drawn from his current occupation enough to think of a proper response, Paul just answered;
John fell silent again and the scratching sound of p
Can't stop thinking about last night. Or rather, can't stop thinking about you.
It's crazy, really, but that's the way it is, right? At least I hope this is the way it is now. If not, let me know and I'll stop putting creepy notes in your pocket.
Didn't want to wake you up. I hope you're sleeping well and dreaming lots of lovely dream inside that pretty little head of yours. Perhaps about me. Better be about me. No, just kidding. I slept very well indeed anyway (always do beside you)
I'll see you later today and I'll think about you every second until then.
I just wanted to let you know that you, yes you, make me a very happy man. And I hope that I make you happy as well. And if that is the case, that you'll let me keep making you happy.
You've got me all warm and tingly and I hope you don't mind me saying that I'm falling pretty helplessly for you.
Oh, and you're beautiful.
The art of letting goThe day I met John Lennon, was the day I understood that his heart would never belong to me.
No matter what I did or how long I stayed it would still already be taken, taken for good. And stayed, I did. For I always hoped, despite knowing it was a waste of his time and a waste of my heart, that something would happen to change what had already been written in the stars. The longer I stayed, the more I realised and the deeper I hoped. Nothing feeds a hungry heart like the fear of losing what it longs for.
I saw it in the way they looked at each other, the way he never looked at me, the way I persuaded myself to believe he looked at me. It can't be seen on a photograph or a video tape, the lens of a camera could only capture so much as the fraction of the real enchantment binding and locking their eyes together. The first time I saw it, was the day that I met them, and from then on I always knew that this was a love that would kill me.
Even so, I let myself believe. A foolish mistake I s