" Talk t'me. Just talk t'me. "
♕ ▌◜【 meme 】 – ( accepting )
The fear that pooled in the pit of his stomach had become overwhelming during their meeting with Brian Epstein and Derek Taylor. Before leaving England, John knew what awaited him across the pool. He’d read and heard about the flood of angry protesters banning, cursing, and doing all but crucifying John and the band because of some silly, out-of-context rubbish he’d said months ago.
Seeing it was different. The reality of the situation seeped into his mind. When the notion of getting popped off by a loony transitioned into a possibility, John begun to weep and beg–beg Brian and Derek for some fucking way out of this. Anything, he told them weeping, to stop all the fucking madness. They arranged for him to apologize, and readily he swallowed his pride.
So here they were. John had been silent for a beat too long, staring at nothing and thinking of everything. People rushed around him, their voices present but far away as he blinked at his guitar and wondered how the hell the desire to be famous had gotten them here. It was never meant to be this way. Twenty minutes until he’d have to say the words fed to him by Derek and Brian, and he sat, not even trying to say his own.
John looked at Paul, his thin lips closed. He blinked slowly, painfully, and wished Paul wasn’t so optimistic all the time. Why did he never panic in the way that he did?
❛ I can’t talk, can I? Might end up gettin’ us fuggin’ lynched. ❜
