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Chapter Text

The dirt and broken bottles on the asphalt cracked loudly under your feet as you crossed the old pitiful road towards the back entrance of the Kaiserkeller to meet your bandmates for a night of senseless fun.

They had raved on and on for forever about the two new bands that had started to play there earlier that month and insisted that you just had to see them perform. You knew not much else than their apparent capabilities to play as your friends had neither disclosed their names or anything else, for some unknown reason.

It was early October and the few trees that proudly stood in the nearby patches of grass had turned various colours of yellows and oranges. It was all a pretty sight, really. Probably would be even more so during the day when it wasn’t highlighted by sharp neon and blinking lights from the nearby shops, nightclubs and what else.

You went around the building to the front entrance and looked around. The line wasn’t terribly long, it being late in the night on a typical workday. On the other side of the street stood men promoting their business, trying to lure tourists and locals equally inside. Few pairs of sex workers stood scattered around, scantily clothed as they waited for customers.

You went straight to the bouncer and in, alright, German explained that your friends were already inside. It was a tough sell but eventually, with your grace and charm (and a few marks), he let up and stepped aside so you could pass. Good thing your German was more than adequate, otherwise, it would have been completely impossible. Few locals had the patience for English speakers.

The inside of the club was warm and you immediately shredded your vintage long coat, bought cheaply in a flea market once upon a noon, exposing your navy blue t-shirt that fitted tightly around you and one you thought made you look very attractive, if you could be so bold to say.

You headed straight to the bar as you decided to grab a beer before you went looking for your friends, or before they found you. Either way, beer was the main priority.

You shoved yourself through the crowd of dancing and talking people, careful in pushing them aside as you neither were in the mood for getting drinks spilt on you or getting hit by some pissed German; pissed in both senses of the word, mind.

The bar wasn’t all too busy as most people were far too focused on the performing band. You quickly ordered your drink in German and glanced to the stage.

The lead singer looked tall from where you stood. Blonde and in a bright blue suit, matching the technicolour pink suits of the rest of the band. He was attractive and while you had heard better singing; it wasn’t all too bad.

Though what grasped your attention more so was the drumming. A good beat and great timing, something you could imagine would at least have had your own drummers attention. Nevermind that, the man behind the set was interesting as well. Hair in a messy quiff that curled at its edges; presumably from sweat, with a prominent white streak going down one side of his hair. Genetic or dyed, you couldn’t tell from this distance. His drooping eyes and large nose made him look rather intimidating, though admittedly; it gave you a different effect than fear and thoughts of what those hands could do arose in your mind.

Man, not even halfway through your beer and your thoughts were getting frisky… This could turn into an interesting night.

You bottomed your drink. The warm and stinging sensation as it went through your throat was just what you needed. You turned away from the stage and leaned your back against the bar, nodding along to the beat, and looked around the large room and over the crowds.

You easily found them. Booker, your bassist, had his arm slung over the shoulder of your eternally sulking drummer, Wolfgang. The local to the area of the band and a man who had been an enormous help in communicating with managers and finding food and board. Not only because of his fluency in German but also because he was simply more logically minded than other two of the band. And even if you were the official leader of the band; you just never had patience with men in suits.

You sneaked your way over to them; slowly, in hopes of taking them by surprise. The last member of your band, Charlie, spotted you but as you showed him the universal sigh of ‘keep quiet’ and silently shushed him. He rolled his eyes with a small smirk and went back to his conversation with a young brunette at his side.

And, well, it was pretty easy. Booker and Wolfgang both had their backs to you. Booker too distracted by his own loud voice. Wolfgang probably trying his best not to kill the guy and doing his best to just watch the performing band.

And, so it was incredibly hilarious when you finally got up behind them and yelled in their ears.

The music stilled for a short second before picking up again at the commotion you had created by taking Booker by a big enough surprise that he fell off his chair with a yelp, dragging Wolfgang down with him as his arm was still around the poor man.

You stared down at them while laughing loudly.

“Guten Abend,” you managed to push through your laughter as Booker blinked dumbfounded up at you with a Wolfgang pinned underneath his arm. Wolfgang threw off the renegade arm with a groan and quickly got to his feet with a scowl.

“I am getting a drink,” he growled and shoved past you. You weren’t worried about his anger. Pour a few beers in him and it’s all forgotten about. So you shrugged and dumped yourself down in his now abandoned seat while ignoring Booker’s struggles in getting back up.

“Not cool,” Booker muttered as he finally found his way back to his seat.

“So!” You energetically clasped your hands, getting Charlie’s attention back away from the girl, and looked to the stage. “This one of the bands you talked about?”

Charlie nodded, “yes. This is…,” there was a pause as he was trying to remember, ”Rory Storm and The Hurricanes-“ you snorted into your drink at the name, “-the other band we talked about will be on afterwards.”

“And they are…?”

“The Beatles!” The woman beside Charlie erupted with a bright smile, taking you slightly by surprise as you had completely forgotten she was even there. Clearly a fan. Charlie glanced shortly at her before looking back at you.

“You’ve heard them before?” You asked the stranger.

“Oh, yes! They’re great! And so cute,” she gushed. She was clearly blushing and you assumed it was from the thoughts of these Beatles guys rather than the warmth of the room. Charlie seemed mildly irritated at the prospect of new competition.

You hummed in thought and looked to the stage. Cute, eh? We’ll see about that. So far the selection of cute guys was rather slim to none if the current band and your friends were ignored. Even slimmer when counting the possibilities of them even being interested in other men. You sighed; it was rough but you weren’t going to give up just yet.

The announcement of the band getting to their last number filled the room and was accepted with protests and groans; much to the amusements of the members of the band. The singer reassured the audience with charm that they would be on stage soon again and then continued informing them of when.

Just as they stepped off the stage, a new one entered. They were a sharp contrast to the colourful suits of the Hurricanes. All in this band but the drummer were dressed in attire typical of what was pretty known as Teddy Boys back in England. Leather jackets and drainpipe trousers abound. They also wore boots with what looked like thick heels. Much more rough in appearance than the band before them, so much you could say.

The leader, or so you assumed, stepped to the mic with a guitar in hand and introduced them as The Beatles. Huh.

He introduced himself as John. His eyes were slim and narrowed. And though you couldn’t see the form of his nose from where you sat; it had a prominent presence on his face. He wasn’t… unattractive, with his leather jacket and quiff he actually made a striking picture.

He made a few jokes, none were paid attention to as you were far too busy studying him and the other members.

On both his sides stood two men; one with a guitar and one with a bass. The bassist looked bored. Or unimpressed by something, you couldn’t tell. He wore dark shades that helped to give him a mysterious air around him. But honestly, it made you lose your interest in him.

So you looked to guitarist and found that you had to begrudgingly agree with Charlie’s date.

He was cute. With a baby face, high raised eyebrows and pouting lips; he stood out from the otherwise masculine players of the band. Sure, he tried to fit in with his hairstyle and similar clothes but he still lacked the rough edges and defined jaws that the members had.

Speaking of; the last member for you to look at had some prominent cheekbones and jaw. But what most stood out to you about how was how young he looked. Surely he didn’t belong in a bar? You could be wrong but, man, you felt a protective instinct rush over as you watched him play.

You had studied them for a while now and they were well into their second number as you looked at them in silence. It wasn’t until you felt a tab on your shoulder that you finally looked away from them.

“Seeing something you like?” Booker smirked at you from his seat next to you. He probably knew that you had at your uncharacteristic silence. You huffed in response and took a big sip from his large glass of lager.

“Hey, get your own, you cheap ass,” he pulled the glass away from you as you snickered. The amber liquid almost spilt over the edge of the glass as it was pulled across the table. You glanced to the bar and saw that some of the band members from That Guy and The Hurricanes stood at the bar.

“…Maybe I will,” you muttered and stood up with your eyes back unto the stage. They were deep into a Buddy Holly number and as you went across the room to the bar; your eyes met with the leaders as he sang. A chill shot through, one which you ignored and chalked up to be the drinks getting to you. You broke the staring contest and continued to the bar.

There you found Wolfgang grovelling with a woman hanging on his arm. It seemed his dark and mysterious act was having some success. Now, it was up to you if you wanted to meddle in that or not. You know, for the hell of it.

You decided to get a drink first and see where it went from there.

A bejewelled hand rested around a glass beside you as you leaned across the bar due to the lack of available stools. The hand was large and masculine, adorned with multiple rings. Curious, you looked to your right and saw that it was the drummer from the previous band. He was alone, the rest of the members scattered around the bar, and still wore the brightly coloured suit.

And as you got your drink; you turned to face him and asked, “hey, you’re a Hurricane, right?”

He turned to you, confusion clear on his face, and blinked. It was rather cute and did its work on slowly tearing down the otherwise intimidating look he had about him.

After a few seconds, he chuckled with a slight nod of his head, “I am.”

You smiled and reached your hand out for him to shake. “First time seeing your guys today but I gotta say; already a fan. Of you especially.” Your hand was met with the mixings of warm skin and cool metal of his rings. It was a nice sensation on your heated skin. He thanked you with sweet laughter.

“Now,” you leaned forward, “doesn’t this joint have a backstage room for stars like you to hang around in?” You finished off with a slow sip of your beer.

“Yes, but they don’t serve beer there. Nor do they have the presence of delightful company of men like you,” he leaned forward too and you said with a low hum, “well, that could quickly be arranged.” His brow raised as he smirked but just as he opened his mouth to say something; you felt a tab on your shoulder and you sighed, closing your eyes for just a second before turning around.

It was Booker with a red-headed girl hanging around his arm.

You raised your brow at him; indication for him to speak.

“This is, um, Flora. And we gotta, uh, go. Home. Now,” he nodded. Most likely to himself than anyone else. He was drunk. You hadn’t been at the club for long so either he and the others had been here early, or Booker suddenly had been busy while you weren’t looking.

“…Sure, you go do that.”

You weren’t quite fond of having been interrupted in your chat with the drummer… Who’s name you realised you still didn’t know. But you understood why you had been. The four of you in the band shared an apartment so it was important to know when there were guests.

Booker left and you turned back to face the attractive drummer only to find him missing.

“Damn it,” you whispered to yourself and gave all your attention into your beer as you looked around the room to see if you could spot him.

You had no such luck and you soon resigned yourself to watching the band. The babyface was singing now. And for all his adorable traits, your eyes constantly wandered to the leader who was strumming along with the beat on his guitar.

Why? You weren’t incredibly attracted to him and yet there was something that drew your eyes to him. And how his fingers moved across the strings. Could it be his defined jaw or narrow eyes that drew you? Or simply the way he played?

You had to distract yourself away from… that. And so you looked anywhere else until your eyes landed on your former table where Charlie now sat alone. Your eyes met and you waved him over.

“What happened to the bird?” You asked him after he ordered a beer.

“A hurricane swept her up,” he answered and causing you to snicker. He shortly frowned before joining in on the laughter.

Something was tucking your gut and you asked, “short one with a white streak in his hair?”

He nodded as he drank from his glass.

Damn.

“So,” quickly changing the topic from your defeat, “Booker left. With a girl.”

He nodded.

“And where’s Wolf?” You asked and looked around. You hadn’t seen him in a while and, honestly, you were starting to fear he was mad at you.

“He left. Probably to have a shag on your bed,” he laughed and patted you on the back. Fuck. Definitely still mad then.

You sighed, “so much for a guys night out, eh?”

Charlie just shrugged, “it always goes like this so it’s no big surprise, really.”

You nodded with a sigh as he looked around the bar. “Now let’s find you a handsome lad so you’re not the odd one out when we get back.”

You were lucky with friends like these. Homosexuality was not something that was discussed. It was frowned upon. And more importantly; it was downright illegal. Though the legality of things was constantly ignored in this neighbourhood. And same-sex relationships weren’t exactly uncommon. Your friends were understanding for the most part. While they didn’t pretend to understand it, the certainty tried. And would defend you when the need to arose. And you would forever be grateful about it.

But getting back to the topic, you asked Charlie; “And what about you?”

“I got me trusty hand,” he laughed and you rolled your eyes at him before breaking out in a burst of tipsy wheezing laughter.

Hours passed of fooling around and joking. And drinking. Neither of you had felt a hurry to get anywhere or get with anyone.

You didn’t know how many hours passed but it was enough for an entirely different band to be playing as you glanced up and over to the stage. Didn’t these bands perform for hours on end? Huh.

You looked around and saw that the crowd was significantly less crowded than a few hours ago. Or more than a few. Man, time could fly when you had fun.

Charlie had, with your permission, slinked off with a busty blonde only a few minutes prior which now left you to be all alone in the bar. Aside from the sea of strangers, of course. It was well past midnight and you were about to call it a day and bottom you lager when you felt a light shove on your right.

It was the baby faced guitarist from earlier. Though it weren’t him that had pushed you but rather a man whom he was having a heated discussion with. His back was turned to you but from the smooth leather jacket, you could only assume it was another Beatle. Auburn hair met the collar of the neck of the jacket and you tried to recall the different hair colours of the band. But the lighting of the stage had been to no help.

He backed into you again, almost causing you to spill your drink, and you sighed. You would have to say something to home but drunks could be so damn temperamental with a taste for blood. Eh, well, here goes nothing.

You tapped him on the shoulder and as he turned, you said; “guy, you need to watch your steps or I’m gonna spill my drink.” And turned back to quickly take a sip of said drink.

“And so what if you do?” Was barked right back at you and as you turned with a frown and slowly blinked as you faced the source. It was the frontman of The Beatles. Who was now stepping closer to you in a threatening fashion. Wonderful.

His breath smelled of alcohol and cigarettes and the way he looked down on at you affected you in such a way you felt that you should be ashamed of. But that could come later. Right now you needed to focus on not getting into a fight with a guy you’d rather do much else with. The young man behind him placed a gentle hand on his bicep as he whispered a name, John you thought you heard, but it was quickly pushed away.

“Look, pal,” you started but quickly was interrupted by a swinging fist.

Damnit.

Chapter Text

The punch hit you hard. Square in the eye too. Fuck, did it hurt. It hadn’t been enough to knock you to the floor but you still found yourself clinging to the wooden tabletop of the bar with one hand while the other had gone straight to your eye. To cover it or… something, you didn’t know. It had been pure reflex.

Fortunately, it was the only punch you got. And as you still had no plans on fighting; you did no such endeavour on punching back. God but did the stinging pain in your eye wish you weren’t such a pacifist.

You muttered an array of curses as you tried to get back up, a hard thing to do as you saw stars and weird circles float and flutter all around you. A beautiful, painful distraction. Your steps wavered and you felt a thin hand wrap around your arm in an attempt to help you up.

You looked up and saw an incredibly young looking man. Or just a boy. Looked a lot like one of The Beatles from earlier. Hell, you were just hit by one so this one might as well be one too. But why was he helping you then? You were carefully positioned on a barstool and sighed as someone handed you a cold object. A beer can you realised and looked up to your young helper.

“…For your eye. We don’t have any ice,” he sounded… remorseful and you slowly nodded and placed it over your eye with a wince as the cooled surface hit the heated swelling. You found yourself unable to look anywhere but on your helper, probably due to an incoming cramp or some shit from the fall, and decided to make some small talk before the silence got awkward.

“So… what’s your name, pal?” You asked the kid.

“Uh, George,” he seemed nervous which could be from multiple reasons you supposed.

You nodded and looked him over now that he was so close.

His dark hair was wild from the hair products giving up after a long day and was matched with thick dark eyebrows. His ears protruded noticeably away from his head; an adorable look which only served to remind you of Dumbo. A thought of which you lowly snickered at.

“You okay?” He asked with furrowed brows. Hopefully because of concern and not because he had noticed your staring and snickering. Him, hopefully, not being a mind reader couldn’t have known you just compared him to a cartoon elephant.

You shrugged, “I’ve had worse.”

That wasn’t a lie. And anyhow; the pain and warm stinging were slowly letting up. And, hey, you would have a can of beer once it was done. It would be at room temperature but, whatever.

You turned your head with a loud crack coming from your neck. You winced but moved on. Your assaulter had vanished and as you looked at the spot of where he had been; babyface suddenly appeared. He introduced himself as Paul. Which made more sense than what you had been beginning to call him.

“I’m really sorry about John,” you lightly shook your head at him as he began in a way to tell him not to be as he continued, “he had been in a fight with Stu earlier and I suppose he was still tense, y’know.”

“Who the fuck is Stu?”

Geez, the guy is cute and all but what’s with the familiarity? Were you supposed to know this Stu guy? You narrowed your eyes at the guy.

“Oh… right,” Paul muttered and glanced at George next to you. He decided to explain instead of this Paul guy who did seem a little jittery. “He’s our bassist,” Paul nodded at what George had said. Right, as if you could’ve known that.

“Is there much infighting in your band?” You said hoping it would come off as something lighthearted rather than a genuine quest. Not that you had conveyed that any well in your question. You shrugged to yourself and looked around, finally taking in the area around you. The people around the bar had dispersed. They probably moved away from expecting a brawl but at the disappointment of the lack of it; just proceeded to stay away from the mess. You saw the bartender looking rather unfaced and unimpressed. Fair enough.

Paul shook his head with a small laugh. “Not really, no.” Though George shot in with a, “well, kinda.” You looked to and from them with a raised eyebrow. “… Anyway,” you sighed and stood up with a hand steadying yourself on the bar.

You cracked open the beer now that your eye felt much better. Most of the pain would probably first really hit you tomorrow anyway. You let out a contented sigh as finished your sip and looked at Paul and George, both staring at you. They seemed… puzzled. Perhaps at your lack of rage from having been… y’know, punched. But, really? What good would that do? It wasn’t like that John fellow was around anyway.

You placed the can on the bar and wiped your damp hand on your trousers. “I realise I never introduced myself,” you reached out a hand to Paul, “I’m [first name].” You shook hands. It was surprisingly soft.

Paul’s eyes were wide as he asked, “… [Last name]?”

You blinked, taken aback by his knowledge. He knew who you were? … What?

“How d’you…?” You still had a hold on his hand, though he seemed as willing as you to let go. He smiled, rather charmingly, with a small laugh. “I’m… We’re,” he glanced to George, “fans of your band… The Eight Wonder!” He finally let go and you kinda missed the touch as you flexed the hand as it came back to your side.

“You’re great!” Oh, now you were going to blush, weren’t you?. Not only had he heard of you, but he liked it? You shouldn’t really be all too surprised. You were doing well. But Paul and his friends didn’t exactly… fit the crowd that were regular at the club you played at. It was a very bougie place.

“We heard you play at The Bunker back when we first got to Hamburg. It was great!” Paul continued added praises and out of the corner of your eye, you could see that George nodding along. You hadn’t recognised them. So it was either a long time ago or you simply didn’t notice three… five? leather-clad young men.

“Well,” you shallowed harshly as you felt your face getting warmer, “I’m glad to hear that.” You glanced shortly at your feet; not every day you get praised. Especially not from cute men. Lucky you. You moved slightly at your feet and looked at Paul again, hopefully not feeling so bashful.

“We play at Der Palast Des Beethoven now. Have been for the last few months… I would invite you to come and see us but… well, it’s got a strict dress code and the guests there can be rather… stuck up. Entry is expensive but,” you laughed, “it pays well too!” You had really lucked out in securing a gig there… Or, well, your manager had. Ernst Scherer. Weird dude but great at his job. You took your, almost, forgotten beer to your mouth to hide your rather smug smirk that was forming.

“Hey!” You quickly wiped your mouth. “You could come through the backdoor and be in the green room!” You nodded to yourself at that. You wanted to thank them somehow. Most would’ve just gone after their friend or, y’know, beaten you along with him.

“You can take the John guy with you too, if he feels like it,” you took another sip. Paul smiled though looked a little confused; so did George.

“But… he hit you,” George looked at you with furrowed brows and glanced to his friends. You shrugged.

“Yeah, but he’s your friend and yet you helped me instead of running after him or… worse,” where were you going with this… um, “so you don’t seem all too bad, and I can always do with more friends. And, don’t worry, I’m not planning an ambush,” you laughed and patted George on his shoulder. He laughed, nervously, but still- laughed.

“No, but,” you licked your lips slightly, tasting the bitter taste of your canned lager, “‘suppose I just wanted to thank you in some way. And I,” you pointed slightly to the stage, ”I did really enjoy your set.”

Paul laughed and got closer to you to pat you on your bicep. His touch was soft and warm. Well, this boy seemed to have to qualms about showing how he felt, eh? You too stepped closer and looked at him with heavy eyes.

George coughed, awkwardly for sure, and you remembered his presence and snickered with a pitying glance to his direction. “Anyway,” you scratched your neck slightly and glanced away from the young men. You hated that you had to cut this short but you really had to go.

“You’re welcome to come whenever you have the time. But, now, I really should be going.”

You patted George gently on his shoulder as you said your goodbyes and hurried out of the bar. It was nearing the early morning and the air chill, forcing you to embrace your coat close to you as you worked down the empty streets back home.

Chapter Text

The next day, you stood in your dressing room looking over your finely dressed form. A dark red velvet tuxedo fitted snugly around your chest, topped with a bowtie and ending with black dress shoes. It was a big change from the night before, the only evidence left from it being the big bruise around your eye. You had tried hard to cover it with makeup and currently, it was barely noticeable… if you stood far enough away. Luckily, the audience did.

Your band was mulling around the room; the guitarist and bassist checking if their instruments were properly tuned and that the strings were all as they should be, while your drummer relaxed in a chair. Wolfgang held a book in one hand while tapping a slow beat with the other on the arm of the chair. It sounded like the Buddy Holly number that was a part of your setlist.

You fidgeted slightly with your bowtie and turned around to face your mates. There was still a good fifteen minutes before you were going on stage and you could hear the group that was currently on stage reach one of their last numbers.

“Guys,” you called out and quickly got their attention. They looked up at you from each of their own activity with a questioning look written across their faces.

“Yesterday I took the liberty to invite The Beatles to come and watch our show,” you smiled greatly and awaited their reaction. You were excited! Sure, one of them had hit you because of his annoyance about another one of the band but… but! You were willing to give him a chance as his friends, George and Paul, had been so kind to you.

Booker shot up from his seat with a grin on his face, “awesome!” The American seemed ecstatic at the idea of the visiting band. Charlie nodded with a tentative smile from his seat as he looked at Booker’s bouncing. Wolfgang on the other hand looked… less than happy. His eyes were narrowed as he looked at you from his seat; making you feel rather small. His hands were folded over his thick book that rested in his lap.

“You sure about this? One of them did hit you,” he said with a raised brow. You laughed it off.

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it and it all can be explained! Besides, it wasn’t thatbad!”

Wolfgang sighed with a shake of his head and returned to his book. You shrugged and looked to Booker with excitement to equal his. He embraced you in a quick hug that you hadn’t expected and you blinked up at the taller man. You probably looked confused and overheard Charlie snicker in the background.

“Flora will be so jealous when I tell her about this!” Booker grinned.

“Flora?… The girl you went home with last night?”

He nodded, “yeah! We ended up talking all night and now we totally dating!”

Now it was your turn to hug him as you yelled out congratulations. He had wanted for long to be in a serious relationship but had never clicked with someone. Or, as mad as it made you, hadn’t been successful in finding someone that didn’t treat him differently due to the dark shade of skin. So, even as fast as this seemed; you were still happy for him and gave him several pats on the back as you separated from the hug.

Suddenly with a loud creak; the door that lead to the back alley of the club opened. The bouncer poked his head inside asking if you, as in the band, were expecting company. When asked if he could elaborate as ‘expecting company’ could easily mean ‘Charlie hired hookers again’ he only shook his head, mumbled something about ‘jungs in leather’ and lead in a group of four men. It was The Beatles!

“Hey, guys!” You smiled and stepped over the group. Wait, there were four now. Weren’t they five in the band?

“Uh…” you counted again to be sure, “aren’t you missing one?”

Paul stepped forward from the middle of the group and now stood between George and the heavy hitter from the day before; John. He smiled and reached out a hand you immediately shook as he told you the deets. “Stu couldn’t make it,” he seemed happy about it which definitely puzzled you.

“Oh! That’s a shame,” you glanced to John who looked rather sour as he glanced around the room. Paul’s reply seemed muffled… unsure in his sincerity in agreeing with your statement.

“Well… anyway!” You clapped your hands once, ecstatically, and looked to your friends on the sofa and pointed to the redhead. “This is Charlie Leary; our excellent rhythm guitarist.” He stood up at the mentioning of his name and greeted the group.

You pointed at Booker who had only just about placed himself back down on the sofa before the group of young men had stepped in; and due to his polite manner, stepped back up to greet them. You smiled at that and introduced him too, “this is Booker Hanson! Bassist and just horribly at gin rummy so go ahead and play him poor.” Booker frowned at you with a pointed finger that you laughed off and turned to look at Wolfgang, his head hidden away behind his book about… well, you weren’t sure, actually. It was in French which, honestly, you hadn’t even been aware of him being able to read. Man, that guy and his secrets.

“And… this is Wolfgang Kleid. Our resident German, our great translator, and drummer!”

The hands on the book stilled and he glanced slightly over the edge of the heavy book at the mention of his name. He said nothing as he looked at you and The Beatles sharply before promptly returning to his reading. You swallowed heavily and turned around to face the band.

“And, well… That us. The Eight Wonder!” You quickly looked over the group at the watch that hung proudly above the door to the back alley. “We play in… ten… no, nine minutes. So, uh… make yourself comfortable!” You laugh came out a little awkwardly as you tried to play host. You had no friends besides your bandmates and you had felt you had hit it off with Paul and George the day before and… well, you had hoped maybe something could come out of that.

Admittedly; you were desperate! You loved your bandmates but you were around them constantly and you need… oh, fresh air, perhaps? A change in scenery? You had known Charlie since primary school and Booker for even longer. Wolfgang, not for as long as either of them but you still knew him pretty well. You felt bad about wanting more people to hang out with but, ah, you just couldn’t help feeling that way.

You turned to face John with an outstretched hand and a polite smile; “So… you’re the lad who socked me a good one, eh?”

His eyes narrowed as he looked at you and, with a smirk, shook your hand with a tight grip. “Yeah, that’s me. And see I did a great job too.”

You nodded with a hearty laugh at the memory of the punch that literally knocked you off your feet. You quickly glanced around the room and saw the Paul had seated himself between Charlie and Booker; talking to them both as they looked over their instruments with him. George and… the other guy (Pete?) stood and looked at the conversation in silence, though it appeared George made some effort to join in on it.

You noticed your hand was still holding on to John’s and you quickly let off it with a sprinkling of a blush and a nervous chuckle. You almost didn’t notice his smile as you stared down hard at your recently polished shoes.

“No hard feelings?” You heard from him and looked up again.

“None at all, mate.” You reassured him and took the chance to study his face more than you had had the chance to before; between, y’know, him rocking around on a stage and then coming at you with a fist. He looked… really nice. He had the pretty typical teddy boy appearance as you had noticed the night before, and like the rest of his band did. It suited him nicely. His quiff was windblown and his eyebrows thick, nearly the same size as young George’s rather thick brows.

Really, had these men never heard of plucking your eyebrows? Or had you just been around der Palast showgirls too often? Wait, did eyebrow hair regrow? Eh, that was something you could check out later.

Anyway! Your point being; he looked pretty good. Pretty… handsome. Enough for you to completely overlook the part of having been hit by him but, well, you were never that bright or smart about life choices.

Your attention was quickly returned to the man in front of you at the mention of your name. Man, it sounded good when he said it. You dearly hoped if he was into men and if even then you would have a shot with him.

“How did ye manage to snag a gig like Der Palast Des Beethoven?” He asked you, oh how cute was his German pronunciation, and you shrugged with pointed thumb in the direction of Wolfgang.

“Wolf and our manager somehow did it. I got no sense for the business part of keeping a band so,” again you shrugged as he looked over your shoulder at Wolfgang. You glanced too and noted that he was still staring into his book. It was clear he wasn’t actually reading. Neither his eyes or hands moved at all in the while you were staring and you chuckled slightly to yourself at the sight.

“Oh!” You suddenly remembered something you and talked about together with your band. You got the room’s attention and informed them of the plans to have a small get together at the apartment you shared with Charlie and Booker. It wasn’t a terribly large place but enough for eight people plus Booker’s girlfriend who had always been invited. And you had been told she might bring friends along so she wouldn’t be the only woman there. It was all fine and dandy, really.

“So, John,” you started after having shared the news to the groups. They had all seemed interested and agreed to all go to the apartment after you had played. Now; your set wasn’t as long as you knew The Beatles and other bands to be. You would even call Der Palast’s way of working humane. You didn’t have to be hooked on some kind of energizing drug to play all night. Der Palast prided itself in a large variety of performances and performers. You would play for an hour and a half each day and then usually be followed by showgirls or some magician. It was pretty fun. Some times you’d hang around after a show to watch the magic unfold. It was very much what you imagined places like Las Vegas or Hollywood to be like  Saturday nights.

“I did admire your bands choice of songs when I watched you play last night,” you smiled politely. It was very similar to your own choice of music. Though yours were more near to the lounge and romantic type; it still had it’s rock ‘n’ roll twist to it. As he would soon see… or, well, hear.

John opened his mouth to say something but was quickly interrupted by the club’s assistant barging into the green room with a yell of “you’re on in five”. Which meant you had to fucking hurry. You looked to Charlie and Booker who had jumped to their feet and were adjusting the straps of their guitars. You rushed to the mirror in the corner and checked out if everything was alright before picking up your own guitar which proudly rested in its case. You quickly gave it a once over and made sure everything checked out. It did.

George appeared beside you with widen eyes as he looked at your guitar that hung from your chest. You chuckled at his gaping mouth; “close your trap, lad, or you’ll let flies in.”

He nodded with a fierce blush and stepped slightly away from you and the guitar. “It’s boss, like,” he said while scratching the back of his neck. You smiled and patted him on the shoulder with a whisper of ‘thanks’ as you stepped towards the door that lead towards the stage.

The rest of your band had already gone out to the stage and were now waiting behind the thick curtain as they waited for you to loyally follow them. Which you did after waving your goodbyes to The Beatles.

The minutes flew by fast as you went try number by number on stage. Charlie, Booker and you switched between singing; each having their own ranges and style that fitted the song best. You all seemed to be equally enjoyed by the audience, though it was you who was the lead singer in the end.

You rushed off the stage and back into the green room where The Beatles still were. You couldn’t lie; you had feared they would hear your music, hate it, and then ditch you to go their own way but no. There they still were, much to your relief.

Paul hurried up from the sofa together with George and greeted you as you re-entered the small room. They looked upbeat and excited, which in turn made you feel the same.

“So, what did you guys think?” You asked with a big grin on your face and looked around the room. John stood near the door with a smirk and felt his eyes drilling into you. It made you feel more watched and on the spot than being on the stage had and you swallowed deeply as you suddenly felt much warmer than you already did from being under the heavy spotlights of the stage.

“It was great!”

It came from Paul who patted you on the back as he followed you further into the room. You looked around and saw that the three members of your band were already undressing from their uniform into more of their own tastes and you quickly hurried along to do the same; stepping away from George and Paul as a result. Privacy in these cases didn’t matter as you were all men but noticing the looks Paul and John gave you; you felt a little flushed as you continued in changing your clothes.

Things were quickly tied up on your end in the business of undressing and making sure your pay for the week were in order before finally leaving out the backdoor into the damp back alley.

The rest of the group had gone ahead and you were the last to leave the club and walk down the alley towards the street and as you looked up into the clear night sky; you felt yourself suddenly bump into someone and with a rush of apologies, looked to see who it had been.

It was Paul with a smirk on his face. He looked quickly around and suddenly dragged you down into a kiss. You blinked and were still for a second before in slow movements were kissing him back. The air around you had a kind of serenity and quietness to it as he pulled back and looked at you with a satisfied look on his face. And before anything could be said; he winked and turned the corner that lead towards your home.

Chapter Text

You were in a daze for the rest of the way home. Having been kissed unexpectedly by someone unexpected; you knew not how to feel. It was a nice kiss and you still felt the warmth in your cheeks from it. And while Paul was nice (and quite cute), you felt hesitant in thinking that you had any more feelings than that about him. You had come to value him more than a possible quick lay.

And, quite honestly, you felt more for John, even through the minimal interaction you had had with the guy. But Paul had kissed and in result making you sure that he was into you- into men. That you didn’t know about John and he had already punched you once; you wouldn’t want to risk getting another if it turned out he was the angry kind of a homophobe.

You walked the way to your apartment alone deep in thought; not noticing either John or Paul staring back at you in turns. The air was getting chiller these last few nights and you had yet to fish out your winter coat from the back of your closet; you were still not ready to accept summer having passed. It held your arms snugly around yourself as you neared the apartment.

And when you finally did reach it; you saw Paul waiting for you there as the rest was ascending the stairs.

“I hope I didn’t make a wrong move or anything, like,” he scratched the back of his neck and looked nervously around. You shook your head and shortly glanced around too, “I am… into men. It just came as a… surprise.” You assured him with a small smile and a pat on his shoulder as you both stood out in the cold.

Your abode was pretty neatly placed in the middle of the red light district of Hamburg. All around you were drunkards, people out on the street partying and sex workers as flashing lights from windows and signs hung from buildings filled the air around you. The sound of the low beating hum of music was intertwined with the loud talking and yelling of people around you. Just across the street where a cabaret; a source of great pleasure for the women-loving members of The Eighth Wonder as it was more of a burlesque show than much else.

“It was nice!” You suddenly said, surprising even yourself at your outburst. In your attempt to save the moment; you continued, “and, well, you’re an attractive lad so I can’t really complain,” you joked and was met with a smirking Paul as you removed your hand from his shoulder. Hm, he reminded you of the cat who just ate the canary. Had you done the wrong thing in admitting that? Because he looked like he was planning something.

“Let’s head inside, yeah?” you shook with a, slightly worried, chuckle as the chill was setting firmly into your bones and you much rather wanted to escape the cold and the lack of conversation that was slowly turning awkward.

You slowly ascended the narrow stairway with Paul close behind you. You could practically feel his eyes on you and you slowly regained the warmth from the long way to the top of the building where you had resident that left you flushed.

“Here we are,” you said with a deep sigh as you looked back to Paul with a smile.

The door to the apartment stood open and you could see various people inside move back and forth from conversations and tables filled with beverages and snacks. Your bandmates had really gone all out for the party. It was very rare one was held at your place so excess should have been expected from pals like Charlie and Booker.

Next to the open apartment door stood John; his arms were crossed as he looked at you recover from your journey up the flight of stairs with a raised brow. It usually wasn’t such a tough climb but you chalked this exception up to be due to the hovering presence of Paul behind you.

“…’m fine,” you muttered with a wave of your hand, sharing a short glance of eye contact with John before entering the populated apartment. The short eye contact was enough for you to get warm and you sighed as you looked around. In the time it had taken for you to get here; news about the party had apparently spread. Not only were your bandmates and your new friends here but so were some of your neighbours and random strangers. It also appeared that they had brought their own supplies as alcohol you hadn’t bought was being shared around.

You quickly found George in a corner by himself nursing a beer as guests stood in their own small groups, talking and dancing.

You got to him quickly through the crowd and patted him on the back with a short laugh as you got to him. He jumped slightly as he had been taken by surprise at your sudden appearance. He must have had been deep in thought about one thing or another.

“So, Georgie boy, what’s on your mind?” You asked with a great big smile as you looked at the young boy. While you still didn’t know his age; you held fast in your belief he couldn’t be more than seventeen or eighteen. And as such probably shouldn’t be in this company or with a beer but you were not one to judge. You had been up to far worse things at that age.

“N-nothing,” he stammered with a sudden blush and glanced quickly to his feet. You raised a brow and looked to where his eyes once had stared as if there had been a bushfire. It was a group of the Cabaret women and one, in particular, stood out in a rather scandalizing outfit. You grinned. Even for you; it wasn’t hard to see what had grabbed the young lad’s attention. As much as you wanted to help him talk to her, like what you would see in the movies; you knew it was very well a lost battle. You had seen her around before and the men she ran with weren’t exactly comparable with young George.

“C’mon,” you muttered with a small chuckle and guided him by the shoulder into the empty kitchen. You placed him down a small rickety chair and grabbed a glass of water for yourself and looked down at him from your place, leaned up against the kitchen countertop. “Having a good time?” You asked him, studying him as he looked down at his bottle. From what you had experienced; he was a tad shy but surely he wasn’t new to the party scene as he were in a semi-successful band in the Hamburg scene.

He nodded but told you that he, “just wasn’t in the party mood.”

You understood that feeling very well, having been a victim more than once to Booker’s surprise parties. Charlie only goaded him on while Wolfgang was nowhere to be found. He always turned up eventually after the party had long ended. You never were sure if he were warned or just had the uncanny ability to sense when a party was imminent. This one was no different as you had seen him nowhere in the apartment or on the way to it. It was just like he had vanished into thin air at the pure mention of ‘party’.

You couldn’t very well abandon George to sit by himself, nor force him into a party. He had gone along with the group to it. Out of group pressure, peer pressure, or because he wanted the company; you couldn’t know. But you wanted to stick by him anyhow.

You placed your glass in the sink and sat down at the other side of the table. Fishing around for ideas of conversation was for nought and you landed on asking him where the hell the last member of the band was; Pete Best was his name if you were to have remembered correctly. He shrugged and said something about him leaving before they had even gotten into the apartment lobby.

“Shame,” you muttered but it hadn’t felt genuine. He had made no impression on you whatsoever so you didn’t really care whether or not he had joined the party as it wouldn’t affect you in any major way anyhow. “So,” you were about the ask George something when the kitchen door opened with a quiet creaking and Paul poked his head in.

“Interrupting something?” He asked in his usual charming matter and you couldn’t help but shake your head and invite him in. Even though he had, in fact, interrupted something. He was followed by John who closed the door behind him. The kitchen was getting crowded, you sensed but invited them to take a seat on the remaining two chairs at the table. Paul quickly seated himself next to you and John across from you. Placing you in an interesting predicament as you reflected on your feelings of both of the young men.

You realised the interrupted question fitted in now better than before when it had just been George and decided to go ahead in your attempt to ask; “so, you’re all from Liverpool?”

It was met with nods as they resembled a choir in their synced verbal response to your question. You had guessed as much from their accents but you had heard through the grapevine, so to speak, about them being from around there. “I myself am from Brighton.” You felt a rush of homesick of the mentioning of the name. You hadn’t been there for so terribly long as you had been all wrapped up in business and were unavailable to go on any kind of vacation. “So is Booker and Charlie. We all went to school together too; like you three. Though if you ask Charlie; he’d tell you he’s a Dubliner through and through.”

The night continued in the same way. Telling stories of home and from each of your time in Hamburg. It seemed that The Beatles had been quite busy in the short time they had been in the city as between the three of them they had always collected quite a mass of stories. You had your own little party in the solitude of the kitchen as you sat around the table sharing tales and jokes.

Paul had at one point during the night placed his hand stealthy on your knee and were moving it in soft circles, much to your frustration as it made it increasingly harder to focus on the conversation at hand but he only smirked at the pointed glances you shot him. It was when the hand slowly made it way up your thigh that you should up your seat and with a slight awkward chuckle excused yourself from the room.

Entering the hallway you quickly realised it, fortunately, wasn’t as full as you feared. The little devil that Paul probably was had with his continuingly surprisingly soft hands (Seriously? With how long and often he played the guitar, they shouldn’t be so wonderfully soft) worked wonders in making your pants feel tight and you hurried to the bathroom.

You noticed the time on the way in your escape to the bathroom and saw that it very much nearing early morning. Explained the lack of people but; had you and the boys really been talking for so long?

You sighed deeply as you splashed cold water in your flushed face. Looking at your own reflection in the cracked mirror (Charlie’s fault), you slowly counted to ten as you prepared yourself to get back out there. How had you managed to get in a situation like this? A very attractive man was into you and you weren’t… disinterested but instead your entire attention was still unfocused on a (possibly) straight man. It hardly felt fair to Paul and his perfectly cute round face to partake in any of the very strong hints he was sending your way when all you really could think of his John and his brown eyes and auburn hair and- damn. You coughed slightly, adjusting yourself, and collected yourself together enough to finally step out of the tiny room.

And, well, speak of the devil. Who did you bump into but none other than John? You made a flustered jumble of words in your attempt in apologising as you stared hard into the floor but it was all for nought as he only laughed at it and you quickly stopped with a careful smile as you finally looked at him. God, you really had a silly teenage crush on the man, didn’t you? Funny really; considering how you first met him. You smiled in a way that felt awkward as you stood silently looking at John and his defined jaw. Wait, were you supposed to say something?

“Uh, hi,” you chuckled and looked past him to find that you were alone, though the kitchen door stood wide open and made you wonder if it was close enough for Paul and George to overhear what was going on at this end of the hallway.

He smirked and with a chuckle commented on your apparent visible flushed state of being; “Paul really did a number on you, eh?”

“Wha-” oh. He had noticed that? Shit.

The amused look in his eyes only increased with his forming grin and you cursed at yourself. He looked great like that. With the laugh lines and wrinkles at his eyes. You slowly blinked as you were (probably) staring at him in a tired haze. God, it had been a long and confusing day. All this emotional bullshit was taking a toll on you.

“Your guy… Wolf? Told us to get going so I’m just saying goodbye for the rest of the guys as they’d rather not get on the kraut’s bad side.”

You choked on a laugh and moved towards the door with John at your side; “don’t let him hear you say that.”

“I don’t care,” John said with a great big shit-eating grin and a shrug.

You reached out your hand for a last goodbye shake as you reached the door and waited patiently as John glanced down at it. It was as if something clicked in his head and his grin slowly turned to a smirk and leaned in, ignoring your hand, and placed his lips on yours in a chaste kiss. He had appeared self-assured but through the kiss, it was clear he didn’t truly feel so.

He pulled away with a fierce blush; suddenly looking mighty bashful and muttered “just wanted to see what Paul’s fuss was about” before hurrying out the door and down the stairs. You stood fast in the position he had left you, hand still out for the handshake that never came, in before you lightly shook your head and glanced to the door.

What just happened? Did that just happen?

“What?”

You somehow in your confused haze made it to your bedroom and fell onto it with a heavy thud. God, this day had been strange. Paul very clearly not hiding his feelings. John, who you thought were disinterested, had kissed you. You should be rejoicing! You crush had kissed you! But all you could think about was the peculiarity of his reaction to the kiss. Had he never kissed a man before? Was that the problem? Or just you. Fuck. 

You closed your eyes tightly together as you felt a headache coming on through the mess of your mind.

The next day better be less complicated than this or you’ll… you’ll just have to accept it because, honestly, what else could you do but just go the route your life seemed to be taking?

Chapter Text

You were suddenly, and rather violently, awoken the day after the party. You cursed another your breath as your eyes adjusted to a completely bright room. You roommate Wolfgang were staring down at you with his arms on crossed as he stood at the side of your bed. You blinked slowly a few times before with a groggy voice finally managed to ask;

“What…? What time is it?”

The few times he had roused you out of your sleep before was on days you had to travel or work early; from what you could recall, you had to do neither today.

“It’s six.”

He was pretty stoic as he looked down at you. Was he mad? Wasn’t this the time he woke up anyway? The neat freak of nature that he was.

“In… in the morning?”

You had to be sure. It could very well be that after the night you had, your internal clock had shut itself off and let you sleep very late.

“Ja,” he huffed and went to sit on his own bed in the tiny room you shared. His arms still crossed. You had finally collected yourself together enough for your sight not to be completely blurred and you slowly sat up as you felt yourself getting more and more awake.

“…Why?”

You asked, feeling very confused. Why the fuck would he wake you up at this ungodly hour? Fuck. Wolfgang didn’t even look like he had planned to be awake and neither looked like he wanted to. He was shirtless and his dark black hair pointed in all angles it could.

“Your boyfriend is out in the hall waiting for you. Ask him.”

“What? I don’t have a boyfriend?”

Who would he assume was your boyfriend? Paul? Surely not, whatever Paul had done with you was in the presence of the two of you alone. Well, except for the recent one. But no one seemed to notice it! Except for, well, John. Wait, could it be John that was out there? Why would Wolfgang call him your boyfriend?

“Well,” Wolfgang sighed, “the one who kissed you is out there. Whatever he is to you.”

So, that didn’t clear things up. And Wolfgang, having known you for quite a while, seemed to pick up on your uncertainty.

“Did you…,” he looked to be fighting back a smirk or a bemused look as he continued, “kiss more than one man yesterday?”

“No!”

You jumped to your feet with a blush furiously fighting it’s way out.

“I mean… yeah… kinda…”

God, did he think you were some kind of antisocial who never went out? You could kiss more than one man a day if you wanted to. You never had or wanted to before yesterday but that’s far beyond the point. You hastily ignored whatever you friend said next and in fast movements; put on pants and a shirt that had laid on the floor (almost resulting in facepalming yourself in your rush) and hurried out of the room.

You supposed you just had to find out yourself who he was thinking about. Couldn’t really be anyone but John. Wolf had just thrown out Paul and George when John… made his move on you so that’s really what made the most sense.

And lo and behold but who did you see but none other than John Lennon? Standing in the living room looking rather worse for wear as he looked on a row of framed pictures you and your roommates had of yourselves and Brighton. He had one in his hand that he seemed to study and you rested against the entrance way of the room as you waited for him to take notice of your presence.

You weren’t in a rush to be noticed and instead took the time to take him in. He wore the same as he did the previous night. His hair was a mess and… well, he didn’t look like he had had any sleep during the night. He looked horrible.

He placed the portrait down and finally saw you out of the corner of his eye. He gave a timid smile; more from him being deadly tired, you thought, rather of him being any kind of shy. Though it could be both. You couldn’t exactly boast about knowing him any well.

He muttered out a single ‘hello’ and glanced to his feet. You scratched your neck in confusion. You worried about his dishevelled appearance and seemingly nervous posture. He seemed to be of a lot more self-confidence up until he… oh, until he kissed you. You really should’ve known it was for this he was here about.

You didn’t move out of your spot from the doorless entrance. It didn’t matter if you went further in or not; the want for privacy could only be fulfilled if you left the room or went somewhere else completely.

He suddenly looked back up at you with the mumbled proclamation of; “I’m not a Queer, y’know.”

Your breathing stilled for a second as you looked at him from your spot. So, your original thoughts the day previously had been correct. That the kiss had taken him by surprise as much as it had you. And would a man who had kissed multiple others state such a fact about himself? While it was possible, you supposed, it hadn’t felt like someone experience with the same sex.

“…Right,” you were kinda disappointed. But you couldn’t fault him in having that attitude.  You couldn’t think of anywhere that would be safe for the likes of you. And you had your own confusion and denial when you first figured out your affection for men. Or the lack of for women.

“Is that all you came to say…? Or do you want to… talk some more?”

You asked the demure looking man. You wanted desperately to get some life back into the man. It pained to see him in such a state; especially knowing you had in some way been responsible for it. But he just shrugged and you could see you had to put more effort into it.

“There’s… a small deli open down the street. We could get something to eat and drink… and talk. Yeah?”

He nodded, “yeah,” and followed you when you walked out the door. The trip down the many stairs and out into the chill Hamburg morning was spent in silence and you walked side by side to the US-styled deli. And as you had said; it was open, but just about. An older man inside saw the two of you standing outside and waved you in with a grin.

His name was Armin, an old WWII veteran you had become acquainted with by frequenting the deli back when you first started out in Hamburg. His greying auburn hair was long and neatly tied back into a low ponytail as he greeted you as you stepped inside. He asked you about your absence, and with a sly smile, asked about your friend when he seated in what he knew to be your preferred seat. And, yes, he knew. In fact, he himself was gay. Something he had confided with you during your long morning talks. He and his business partner lived together with a small army of cats.

Armin walked away from the table after you told him you were gonna come up and order soon, and then turned to look at John. He had discarded his leather jacket and were now running hands through his hair. Trying to fix it in a futile attempt.

“The pastrami on rye is great.”

You said it in an attempt to say anything, you suppose. For, to be quite honest, you weren’t completely sure what to say. Perhaps as a guide on what to order? … Geez, you were bad at this. So you sighed and glanced out the window. It was raining and the streets weren’t completely empty. There were a few homeless and people on their way to work or someone walking their dog. You totally weren’t distracting yourself in an attempt to not look at John and actually acknowledge the awkward situation you had created… Oh, look, a wiener dog.

You heard a muttering of your name and with a defeated sigh; you looked back to John. You couldn’t just sit in silence and ignore the situation and looked to be John felt the same.

“Maybe I am…,” he glanced towards Armin all while looking unsure… nervous, “… y’know.”

You had a sense of what he was trying to say. You gently placed your hands on the table; near his and leaned slightly forward. “It’s safe to talk here.”

He nodded carefully and looked down at your hands. You wondered about what was going on in his head. What his thoughts were about all of this. He didn’t seem the most talkative when it came to the emotional ‘bullcrap’. Which was in equal parts understandable and frustrating.

“Look, you don’t have to tell me anything, okay? It would be nice… but you don’t owe it to me to explain.”

You wanted him to be sure of that. It wasn’t that serious of a situation… well, at least not for you. Putting yourself in his shoes; you had to understand that what was going on now was detrimental for him. You patted him gently on the back of his hand and stood up.

“I’ll get some coffee and you can think things over, okay?”

He gave a short nod and you left and went to the counter of the small deli. The place was still empty but from experience; you knew you had about an hour before it would slowly be filled with tourists and the like. You got plain black coffees, not knowing what John preferred and got back to him with the steaming cups. The moment you sat down; John looked more alert and started talking,

“I’ve never thought about a lad like this before… Except for Elvis, perhaps… Never wanted to kiss one. Or… touch one like I do with birds. But,” he glanced to you. A soft gaze in his eyes. “I want to do all that and more with you.”

He was tearing small rifts into the paper napkin that you had given him with the coffee as he lightly shook his head at his own words.  

“But we hardly know each other. We only met yesterday,” you commented. It wasn’t to deter him. Not at all; this week had just gone by fast. It was hard to believe even that it was just a few days ago you even saw him perform.  But; you could relate to what he was saying. As little as you knew the man, there was something that pulled you to him… and his friends. In different ways, of course.

He looked at you with a slightly panicked look; “we can get to know each other. Right?”

You quickly nodded and reassured him; that, yes, you could and that you also wanted to.

So, you talked. A lot. Ate your food. Both getting the pastrami rye you had mentioned with a side of sunny side up fried eggs. It was delicious, but this you knew as you had frequented the place lots of times previously. And when you had eaten and paid; you left for the nearby park to take a little walk together. He had increasingly gotten in a better mood; so much was obvious to you.

You had gotten around to talking about your pasts. He told about his absent father. His dead mother. And how he was raised by his aunt and uncle; until the uncle died. Man, and you thought you had had it bad as you told him;

“Father died in the war… And I’ve never had a great relationship with my mother. She left me with my grandmother when she got remarried and decided to not have me in her ‘new life’. And when my grandmother realised she couldn’t take care of me; Booker’s family volunteered and took me in.”

You sat and talked for a long time on an old bench; watching the sun rise and the park fill with dog walkers and joggers. Hearing the winter birds come out to sing and it all brought a feeling of relative peace to your mind as the morning had started out early and stressful. Your hands touched slightly between the two of you on the seat of the bench and you didn’t dare to do more in case of any onlookers but it was nice.

You faced him with a slight sniffle as you hadn’t counted for the weather as a walk in the park hadn’t exactly been planned. “I do really like you, John,” he turned to you with a look you weren’t sure how to describe… but it was nice. A small blush was painted across his cheek.

“What about Paul?”

It came out close to a stammer and you raised your brow.

“What about him?”

He sighed, “why me? Wouldn’t you much rather be with Paul?”

“Why would I rather be with Paul?”

“He just seems so… assured in his sexuality. He wasn’t afraid to make the first move on you at the party. Kissing you and… and rubbing your thigh.” His hand went through his hair in a stressed move; messing up his already messy quiff in the process. “And I… I freaked out on you when I kissed you!”

You put your hands on both his shoulders in an attempt to get his attention back to you. To get his mind off the freakout that seemed to be building it’s way out.

“John… John, I like you. And Paul seems like the guy to back off if we tell him that you like me and I like you, yeah?”

He glanced slightly away, seemingly in thought, before giving a slight nod. You grinned and patted his shoulder before quickly looking around the park… It seemed deserted enough for what you had in mind.

“Good… Good,” you nodded as he looked back to you. “D’you feel ready for a hug or… something like it? It looks like you could need one.”

He glanced around the park too; as if he had the same thought as you had only moments earlier. And as if a switch in his mind, he gave you an impish smirk and moved your hands into his and kissed you in a manner that betrayed his look. Soft and much more self-assured than the one the day before.

And in the breeze of the September morning, with the sunrise as the background; you felt a serene calm in the hands of John Lennon.