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“Well, I’ve got to get a proper job, haven’t I?” he says, hands in pockets, eyes flickering elsewhere. Ridiculously, John’s first instinct is to remind him that he was the one that said better paying gigs were just around the corner. But it’s a stupid thing to say, it’s a gateway to begging. Anger flares, dark red and biting, within the flurry of confusion and hurt now blooming painfully. But it all gets stuck in a lump in his throat, the pill too hard to swallow or spit out.
“You’re giving it up?” is all he can muster.
“I’m trying to tell you-” Paul shifts his weight on his feet, still not looking John in the eye, “Yeah… I- I have to.”-
Paul leaves the band in 1960 to build a life with Dot and their baby. John carries on alone.
They stumble across each other four years later. In a queer bar. -
Bookmark Notes:
bro sheesh god christ