Work Text:
Merry Christmas to John, Paul and all of you. <3
Let it snow
John sighed for the... twentieth? Thirtieth time?
Who knew for sure?
That party was a torture, the slowest and most painful torture. A torture he was forced to stand with a smile on his face.
It was Christmas Eve and the Jacaranda organized a great evening for the upcoming holidays. They had been hired to play for at least an hour, and for the rest of the evening they were free to enjoy the show.
Their performance went very well. John was happy with it, although, thinking about it, it could have been better. He, for example, had been particularly distracted. Why? Well, maybe because he had been waiting for that night for more than two months now and maybe because Paul next to him continued to flirt with the audience, especially with Dot, the little and ubiquitous Dot.
Dot who followed Paul wherever he went.
Dot laughing softly at every joke.
Dot, Paul's girlfriend...
Dot, Dot, always Dot!
God!
John hated Dot.
"Stupid Dot!" John had thought, as he approached the microphone to sing with Paul.
And now he was standing, in a dark corner of the room, glaring angrily at Paul while he was talking cheerfully with George and holding an arm firmly wrapped around Dot’s shoulders.
John also hated Paul. Since John's birthday, Paul wasn’t only acting as if absolutely nothing had happened, but he also ignored him. He no longer looked for him, no longer went to his house, he didn’t laugh and joke with him as before, and all this for a stupid kiss, all this only because his lips touched John’s. And the thing that made John angry was that it was Paul who asked him to kiss him again, kiss him... what did he say? Oh, yes. Properly.
The boy leaned against the wall with a frustrated sigh and took a sip of that horrible drink.
"What a crap!" he burst out, spitting the liquor on the ground without much trouble.
Cynthia, in front of him, stared at him lifting an eyebrow.
"What's going on?"
"This... stuff. It's awful!"
"If you want, I’ll go get you something else." Cynthia kindly offered.
"No, thanks. I’m not thirsty anymore." he blurted out, trying to smile at her, but a grimace came out of him.
Then Paul's genuine laughter came to his ears, overpowering all the other voices, and drew his attention. John turned to look at him, leaning back against the wall.
Paul was probably telling George and Dot one of the most stupid fact, but with his charisma that had always distinguished him, he managed to make interesting and exciting even an afternoon spent sleeping on the sofa in the living room. And John loved this side of Paul so desperately because it was his exact opposite. If John was as dark and mysterious as the night, Paul was a clear, warm sunny day.
So his gaze always fell on Paul, as if they were the opposite poles of a magnet. They were always looking for each other and John watched him in every movement, he looked at him as only he could do. He looked at him like no one else deserved to be looked that way by John.
He wanted him, too. He wanted him more than anything else in the world. That was what he understood when he kissed him, when Paul fulfilled his request. As he kissed him, he felt that this was the very place where he was supposed to be, in Paul's arms and on his soft mouth. He felt that there was no more right person for him.
So much he wanted him, so much it was impossible to have him, now more than ever. They were so close, yet so far away. It was a heartbreaking feeling, to be forced by Paul to live in that situation that was neither their usual friendship nor something more. They hadn't argued, but they weren't as close-knit as before.
In truth, John knew it had been a common agreement to wait until Christmas, but John never thought that a small gesture like that stupid, wonderful kiss could change both of them so drastically. It was so difficult, when they were together, to listen to his voice as he talked to anyone else but him, about anything and not be able to tell him that he should talk to him and look at him, because John would listen to him all his life, and because... god! It was a hard task to hold himself from shutting that mouth with a kiss, now and then. Or not being able to tell him that he made him die a little every time he touched him, whether it was an intentional or random contact.
Damn!
Fuck smoking, alcohol and other bullshit. Paul was the one who made John crazy.
John snorted and forced himself to look away from Paul. He noticed that outside the window it had begun to snow.
Suddenly in that room everything became too oppressive, suffocating, too noisy...
He needed silence to put his thoughts in order.
"I'm going to get some fresh air, Cyn."
He needed the silence of the snow.
*****
Paul couldn't hold back a yawn. Oh, he loved the holidays, especially Christmas holidays. They had the extraordinary power to warm the soul and body, despite the cold.
However, he felt that he was missing something. John had been avoiding him all evening, remaining on one side of the pub with Cynthia, except, when they had to perform. Paul, of course, understood. After all, he was the first to start avoiding him. But on the other hand, John couldn’t expect that after that kiss, nothing would change. For Paul everything changed, all the certainties he had in his life collapsed after his lips had met his best friend’s in the most amazing kiss. Paul had his own good reasons to avoid John, and the first was that John made him crazy for some strange reason that had come to light after John's birthday. Paul avoided that argument just as he did with John.
Now, though, Christmas arrived, and Christmas meant so many things that year.
His head was full of questions and among so many doubts the only certainty was that Paul, right now, no longer wanted to avoid John. On the contrary, he longed for John to look him in the eye and speak to him at least once. Just once would be enough because it was Christmas and John assured him that at Christmas he would tell him about what had happened on his birthday. About what he understood after that... kiss. About John's gift for Paul.
He, Paul, didn't understand anything at first. That gesture only made him go into confusion on an issue he had never had to face in his entire life. And even now, right now, he was struggling to accept it, but he knew that it was a part of him, an important part of him who spoke and told him many things and Paul could hear them, even with the noise of the local that deafened him; noise that he used as an excuse not to listen to those words, postponing for a long time the confrontation with what had now took place in his heart.
With the excuse of smoking a cigarette, Paul finally managed to get away from Dot and despite all the confusion and frustration of the last few months, he decided to look for John.
But John was nowhere, Paul hadn’t been able to see him as well as he couldn’t see Cynthia. What if he left without saying goodbye?
No, it was impossible.
He didn't want to believe it. He couldn't believe it.
Paul wandered frantically around the club, elbowing his way through the crowded people, all intent on dancing to some rock songs played discreetly by the band on stage. He couldn’t have gone away, without saying goodbye to him, without having wished him Merry Christmas, without... without his gift.
His heart was pounding furiously in his chest. That son of...
“Paul?”
The young man turned around and saw Cynthia. Suddenly the weight that oppressed his chest dissolved. Maybe he wasn't gone...
"Oh, you're here. I... um, I was looking for John."
"He went out for a moment for some fresh air, I think he didn't feel too well."
"Then I'm going to check how he's doing." he told her, trying to make his way to the exit.
"Tell him to come in, it’s freezing outside." Cynthia shouted at him.
Paul nodded absent-mindedly and finally reached the exit. He tightened his jacket to his chest and faced the daring cold of that evening.
He immediately noticed that it was snowing. The white and fluffy flakes gently rested on everything they encountered in their path. The lad looked around, but there was no sign of John. He twisted his lips, as a chill of cold ran through his neck and back. Then he moved, walking to the right, until he saw that John had taken refuge in a narrow, dimly lit alley next to the club.
His friend was standing, with his back against the wall and a cigarette between his lips. The snow fell slowly, as if it was dancing to the notes of a silent waltz, and just as silently Paul approached his friend.
"Hey!"
"Hey!"
And here they are, finally, John's eyes in his and his voice in his ears. Paul said nothing, while John took the pack of cigarettes from his pocket and offered him one. The young man accepted the offer and a moment later John lit his cigarette.
"So?"
"So what?" John repeated.
"So, why did you disappear from the party?"
"Ah that! There was too much noise." he explained briefly.
"And it’s better here?" Paul asked, clutching his arms to his chest, "It's fucking freezing."
John gave him an amused look and then... then there was also something else in his gaze. Something Paul wasn't sure he recognized, but somehow he knew what it meant.
"There is silence here."
"Silence, huh? There is silence even in the boxroom." Paul pointed out, blowing on his hands to warm them.
John sighed and his breath, mixed with cigarette smoke, turned into a cloud of condensation: "It's not the same."
"And what would be the difference?"
"The snow."
"The snow?"
"Yes. When it snows everything becomes quieter, have you never noticed?"
"No, not really."
John grinned and returned to watch the snow silently whiten the dirty Liverpool. The next day the city would have seemed so candid and magical.
Paul's gaze followed John, studying his profile that stood out in the night.
“John?”
“Mm?”
"What’s the real matter with you?"
"Nothing."
And yet it was everything and Paul felt tremendously guilty. He had to fix the confusion that he had. It was John's fault as much as Paul's.
"Please stop, John! What happened? Did you misbehave and now you’re afraid Santa Claus won’t bring you gifts?"
John shrugged his shoulders carelessly: "He has never guess right a single gift. That old crock."
"Mm... how difficult you are. What do you want that is so special that not even Santa can bring you?"
John didn't answer. He simply turned to him and smiled at him enigmatically.
Paul frowned puzzled, "What does that idiot smile mean?"
"It doesn't mean anything."
"So why don't you answer the question?"
"You don't really want to know."
"Is it a bad thing?" Paul asked, laughing, "So filthy that even the great John Lennon is ashamed of it."
"I'm not ashamed of it."
"Then tell me. Maybe I can help Santa Claus."
John stared firmly into his eyes. He threw the cigarette on the ground and extinguished it with his foot.
"Okay."
And then, a moment John took the cigarette off his lips, kissed Paul and in the next one he moved away from him.
"I want you!"
Paul barely heard John's whisper, partly because he had been caught off guard by John's gesture, partly because his heart began to hammer furiously in his chest and higher, in his throat and ears, making all his senses numb. But even with his eyesight clouded, he noticed that John was moving away from him.
"Hey!"
Without even thinking twice, he chased him and stopped him.
"Wait a minute, where are you going?"
"Back in. You were right, you know? It's really cold here."
"You can't leave now. You can't do that and then leave me again without any explanation."
"I can. You don't really want to know anything at all because you would hate me." John said and was about to leave, but Paul grabbed him again, pushing him against the wall.
"That's because you don't really know me, John. I could never hate you."
His voice was firm and loud, echoing in the narrow alley, thanks also to the silence that slowly descended on the city along with the snow. Paul was grateful that it was snowing, because the silence now allowed him to really listen to what his heart was saying and they were beautiful words, words that encouraged him not to give up, to move forward in his mission, that is, to finally let John talk about what was happening to him, to them.
"Why are you here, Paul?" John asked, and Paul found himself blinking.
"What?"
"I asked, why are you here, Paul?" he quietly repeated.
Paul was amazed for a moment, not really knowing what to answer, and then decided to speak: "I, I thought you had left without ... saying goodbye to me."
"And since when do you care?"
"What does that mean?" Paul asked, slightly disappointed now.
"I mean, why all this interest in me tonight, when you've almost ignored me for the last couple of months?"
"Why? What do you think I should do, John? It was you who wanted to put off the matter."
"I know, but I... I didn’t want any of this. You’ve never spoken to me first, if you happened to look at me, it was always by mistake and then you turned away. You have no idea how hard that was for me."
"Then tell me what you have to tell me once and for all. You promised to do it today." Paul said, the look on his face was worried more than ever and his voice was trembling.
John noticed this, smiling softly to himself. Then he bit his lip, thoughtful, before finding what to say.
"Actually, I promised I’d tell you at Christmas and we are still on Christmas Eve."
"Well, but it's almost midnight, you could tell me." Paul commented, chuckling.
"Tell me why you're here, first." John insisted, his intense gaze stroking Paul.
And under that look, Paul knew what he wanted, without doubt or any other questions.
"Just this. I want to know. It's something that concerns me, so I have every right to know."
"No, that's not true." John replied, shaking his head slightly.
“No?"
"No, you came here because you know what I want to tell you and you just want to be kissed."
Paul suddenly blushed and John couldn't be more delighted. So he grabbed him by the arms, pulling him to himself, just as the silence was broken by the bell of midnight.
"Tell me now, John." he sighed almost painfully.
John nodded, then his hand went up his arm, reaching up to his neck and covering his round cheek, bringing him even closer to himself, only to whisper to him...
"I love you, Paul."
Paul smiled, his breath became a bit faster, and he wrapped his arms around his waist, holding him as a shiver ran through both of them.
"I knew, you know?" he said, "I think I'd know it since it happened."
"And did you wait anyway?"
"Of course, I wanted it to be my Christmas present."
John chuckled, before pulling him to himself and kissing him gently on the lips, letting the silence return into the narrow alley again.
"Merry Christmas, Paul."