#beable

Angst

Paul Mccartney POV:

I just got home to Liverpool from the memorial show in London, it's 1am the town is asleep and all I can think about is him. I put my wallet and keys down in the mudroom, I go to the kitchen and grab a bottle of wine before sitting at the table. I take a swig, and another, and another, but I still can't stop thinking about him.

I grab my keys before walking out the door and locking it, the lock clicking is loud against the silence of the street. As I walk down the road I stare ahead into the dark, I've walked this road a million times over yet it feels so unfamiliar. Entering the park I go to the same spot, the same bench we sat and smoked cigarettes on when we were 18.

I stare into the sky at the star, the same star he told me about when I dragged him out here to throw up after a night at the pub - Mary Julia.

I hear laughing next to me, I'd know that laugh anywhere, I see the moonlight flickering in his glasses, his thinly pursed lips, his slightly crooked teeth and pointed nose in the corner of my eye. I look to my left hoping to look into his eyes once more.

I'm left staring at the reflection of the moon on the tin lid of the trash bin.

I put my cigarette out and walk home kicking a rock. Unlocking the door I throw my keys at the wall and slide down against the door sobbing. Why didn't i go see him sooner, maybe if I hadn't put it off so long, maybe he would have been more careful, maybe if I had told him I loved him he wouldn't have left me for that slag.

I walk to the kitchen, grabbing my wine bottle from the table, taking a swig before deciding fuck it and gulping it down I shatter the bottle on the floor and scream, no words, wailing maybe? It was agony. I stand in the center of a million shards of glass. The room had never felt this empty. It's my fault, it's all my fault, why the hell did i let her take him from me, why the hell did she let him go out that day, I slam the door open. 1...3...8 I lost count suddenly my wine cabinet was empty, I look around me at the mess I made on my floor, I drop to my knees sobbing. My knees are cut up from all the broken glass, it doesn't matter, he's dead, and nothing mattered more than John Lennon.