June 18th, 1963.

Entry five-

I've recently gone on holiday with Eppy.

I reckoned it would turn out to be a learning experience, and nothing more. I was partly right. I learned about Barcelona's culture and I learned which types of men Brian preferred to look at, I even got to see a bloody bullfight!

But when I left behind Cyn and the new baby to go to Spain with him, I wasn't thinking about culture or bulls or any of that trivial nonsense. Oddly enough, the one person that my screwed up world seemed to revolve around popped into mind.

I went on vacation because of Paul.

It was actually more of a calculated move than a relaxing time spent away from all the stress building up in my life. The whole time I was there, I was acutely aware of what I was getting myself into. Brian's homosexuality is no secret, and in the time that I've known him, he always seemed to create this tense atmosphere between the two of us. It vaguely reminded me of how I felt around Macca, and I figured it'd be okay to explore it just for the hell of it.

Long story short - I left Barcelona, Spain with the ability to say I'd been sucked off by my queer manager. It wasn't the best blowjob ever given to me, but he was eager enough to do it and didn't ask for anything in return. I felt kind of dirty for using him to curb my unusual desire to do something different, but it had to be done.

After I had climaxed and he had blushed like an idiot and stuttered around for a bit, I questioned him on every thing I could think of when it came to sex between two men. So in the end, it was educational. The only fault was now that we're on our plane ride back to England and he's fallen asleep against my bloody shoulder, and I can't stop thinking about what he told me. I also can't stop pondering what it would be like to have a certain friend of mine in such situations.

Well.

I'm glad Paul found my journal a long time ago instead of recently. These entries are becoming fucking obsessive and frightening. Maybe I should give it a break..

- j.l

Secretly, I had always enjoyed being around the herd of people that happened to be Macca's family. Of course - some were too loud, too obnoxious, too eccentric. But as a whole, most were nice and charming and hell, a couple were as attractive as the birthday boy himself.

But what really drew me into the atmosphere was how together they all seemed, bound to one another and able to relate like an actual family. It made me think of the time I spent with Julia a few years back, watching idly as she entertained the girls and acted so motherly towards them. That was when I loved her the most.

And Paul's relatives were constantly having moments like those; people hugging, reminiscing, kisses on the cheek.

It was a warm, simple party to celebrate his twenty first birthday.

Cynthia and I arrived late to his Auntie Jin's house, but we were there nonetheless and I hadn't been able to find anyone I was comfortable talking to in the huge yard of people. So, I decided that we should sit outside near the front door and wait for Paul to find us, which I admit wasn't the best plan, but I couldn't just walk away from my girlfriend to obsess over where he had gone off to.

Somewhere inside, that was for sure, but it was an outdoor party and I didn't want to seem out of place or anything.

I pulled Cyn down onto my knee and let my arms wrap loosely around her waist, watching the people conversing around us and chewing anxiously on my lower lip.

"Why th' hell isn't Paul out here? It's his party isn't it?" I questioned quietly, but rather irritatedly.

Cynthia shook her head slowly, placing her hand over mine in a vain attempt to calm my rapidly growing agitation.

"Maybe he's inside with Jane or something. I'm sure he wouldn't miss his own celebration, John." She mumbled.

Well, wasn't that just the icing on the cake, now I had to deal with the idea of him getting some little birthday "present" from that tarty redhead upstairs. Great.

Jealously threatened to break down my composed expression, gnawing at me from the inside out. I closed my eyes, sighing heavily to try to steady my breathing and forget about the stinging feeling in my chest.

"Go get us some drinks, love? I feel like McCartney's going to be a bit."

Twenty minutes and one too many sips of booze later, I had Cynthia in my lap again on that little lawn chair, kissing the back of her neck every so often.

I was in that hazy, dreamlike state of being intoxicated, my eyes struggling to focus on anything in particular. But for sure, I saw Macca return from inside his Auntie's house, and could hardly hold back my sneer when he cheerfully approached me and Cyn, that stupid grin plastered on his stupid face.

His hair was neatly combed and he didn't look the slightest bit disheveled besides his crooked tie and the dreamy look on his face that occurs after a right good shag.

"Oh? Are you actually joining us now, or is this just a little break between your fuck fest with Janie bird?" I stared him down, feeling as if I had the ability to burn a hole through him with my eyes.

His own hazel hues widened in both shock and offense, blinking a couple of times.

What, Paulie? Upset you didn't get a happy birthday and a hug? Too fucking bad.

"Be civil, please? The party is only jus' starting and you're already pissed. I can't keep up with you the whole time and I'm sure Cynthia doesn't want to either."

And then his plump lips curled into a grin, and one that wasn't so civil itself. He could be an arrogant, smarmy bastard at times. I like to think that it's because he's insecure like me, and not that he decides to be that way.

Paul had been in a distant, pissed off mood ever since I got back from Spain and his attitude was really taking it's toll on my short circuited nerves.

"I don't need you to keep up with me."

"Jus' lay off the drinks, Johnny."

He clicked his tongue at the end of his sentence, turning to leave before I could get another piece of my mind into the discussion. I tried not to care about the smooth way in which his hips moved as he walked, the deliberateness of the sensual sways making my stomach do flips that I couldn't control.

"Who rained on his bloody parade?" I muttered quietly, my thumb tracing light circles on Cynthia's slim wrist.

She turned to face me and smiled, threading her fingers through my hair and leaning forward to kiss my forehead. I felt myself ease off a little on the Paul situation with her touches, the sensation cooling off my most secret burning needs.

Cyn was a good girl, she gave me the affectionate attention I lacked with my friendship with Paul, she didn't seem cold or uncaring, she didn't send me off after getting too close and regretting it.

There was only one fault - she loved me the way I loved Paul.

Sometimes I found myself unable to return it, and the idea of losing interest in my wife scared the hell out of me.

"He feels as though you rained on it, John. Let him have his day. I'll be back in just a minute, love, I'm going to check on Julian. He was napping in the house but I'll bet he's up now, and you know how Paul's aunties were all over him earlier.."

Her words barely registered in my mind, but I nodded absently and let her get off of my lap, crossing my arms over my chest once she was out of my embrace.

"Play nice." She grinned, blowing a kiss in my direction before leaving.

I waited a couple of minutes after she disappeared behind the large oak door before hoisting myself out of the chair and blindly searching the backyard for someone to mingle with.

Leaving my mind to it's own devices for too long could be hazardous, and I knew that even in my drunken state. It wasn't even the good kind of drunk, was the sad thing. I felt completely out of it, and the aftertaste of the beer was revolting. Maybe mingling wasn't my best option, now that I considered the state my breath must be in.

I had nearly made it back to my seat, but before I could a large hand was placed on my shoulder and the sound of deep laughter rung in my ears. Or perhaps my ears were just ringing on their own and the laughter was normal. I couldn't tell.

"Johnny, it's nice seein' you again!"

I felt myself being turned around to face Bob Wooler, and it took everything within me not to groan in annoyance.

"'Lo, Bob."

Of course, Paul just had to invite him, why not? The party just wouldn't go on without him, would it?

A thousand sarcastic thoughts flooded my head, I could taste the words on my lips.

Play nice.

I cleared my throat, trying to smile convincingly. It felt too tight lipped and over exaggerated to be real.

"Nice party, yeah?" I asked.

"Hm, I suppose. The drinks are good. Say, what d'ya think about tha' little gem Paul's found, eh? His new girl is bloody gorgeous."

"Too posh for my taste, but nice tits."

My words sounded funny to my own ears, slurred and sloshy.

"Hm.." He mused for a moment, lips curling up in a grin that seemed too secretive for my taste. I realized very soon that he was trying to hold in laughter, and not knowing why made me anxious.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing, it just should have been obvious that she's not your taste."

My eyebrows scrunched up in confusion and I bit the inside of my mouth, not in the mood for Wooler's bullshit right now. Maybe throwing up the contents of my stomach onto those shoes of his would do the trick and get him away. It was so tempting that I had to physically stop myself from looking like a fucking idiot.

"Obvious?"

I had resorted to single worded answers.

"Yeah, I mean, I should've known, with that trip with Brian and all."

Fuck.

I looked around the yard quickly in a frantic check to see if anyone had heard that, my heart hammering uneasily and my mouth going dry. I knew there would be hell to pay for that trip, but I didn't expect it to be so blatantly thrown in my face like that. The world might as well have collapsed right then, because that's what it seemed like.

I had to be bloody careful here.

"Brian has nothing to do with Jane Asher's tits. "

Nervousness ate at my insides until I felt shaken and empty, yet my words were firm and beginning to sound on the lethal side, promising harm if this didn't stop soon. The party around us still went on in full swing, people flocking around Paul, Jane hanging on to his side like a damn leech and food and drinks being distributed between the guests.

The loud noises made my head ache.

Bob's hand once again went to my shoulder, smiling like a loon as I flinched.

"It's fine, man, if that's what you're into. You're always around pretty boys, it's only natural to want to try it out. I bet you've had Paul a few times, eh? He's a doll."

"How fucking drunk are you, Bob?"

I took a step back and huffed as I knocked his hand off of me, my fingers automatically curling into fists. By this point I could hardly make out his features, which were only half a foot away from my face.

I honestly thought I was close to puking, but more than anything I wanted to punch him, I wanted to yell at him and beat him to the ground for saying that about Paul. Well, and about me, but his innuendos towards Macca were what really set me off.

"Woah, calm down now. There's no need to get jealous or anything, I'm not down with that sort of thing."

"Neither am I, you cunt!"

Anger flashed through me, I could feel it with every bone in my body, every nerve chanting the same mantra in electrifying little pulses.

Hit him, hit him

And so, I did.

The first swing was blind with dizziness and intoxication, my fist just skimming across his jaw. The sudden motion made my stomach churn, and I tried hard to keep down the vile taste that traveled up my throat.

Wooler rubbed his face for a moment, not getting a word out of his stupid gob before the next punch came. This one hurt my knuckles a little, but I barely noticed when I saw that I had bloodied his nose.

I swallowed hard to pretend the sight didn't disturb me, and vaguely heard someone shriek as the party goers began to realize what was happening.

"Punching me isn't going to make you less of a nancy boy, John." Bob winced, holding his hand up at his nose and trying to stop the flow of the dark red liquid.

"Fuck you." I spat at him, toppling over on top of him without even thinking about it.

My old teddy instincts must have kicked in at that moment because suddenly I felt wild with the thought of having a good barmy.

So much for playing nice, I thought rather amusedly, hitting him for all it was worth and cursing until my words meshed together and I couldn't make out what I was saying anymore.

My knees were digging up against his ribs and he was pushing and kicking at me, trying desperately to free himself.

All the fights and scuffles I'd encountered in Hamburg were really paying off now. I had remembered the best ways to pin someone down and keep the upper hand long enough to do some damage. I felt afire with the need to hurt; to bruise and scratch and maybe break a couple ribs.

It was over all too soon, though.

I felt someone violently jerk me off of the ground, keeping me from doing anything worse than what I had.

The only reason I didn't fight against the intervention was because I could already tell who it was, and his warm hands were right beneath my arms, yanking me backwards and speaking way too loudly for my sensitive ears.

"I can't believe you. Does every fucking situation have to do with how much attention you get? Are you happy now, being the center of what's going on?"

His questions were angry and irritated, and for a second his voice made me weak in the knees. It made me want to smother him with kisses.

"You've got the kids scared out of their bleeding minds, Cynthia's crying, and the whole thing is just bloody ruined."

But still he ranted on, pushing me in the direction of the house and through the back door, into a small sitting room.

Now, I really felt it.

And before I could warn poor Paulie, I rid myself of his grip and fell to the floor on my knees, throwing up all over his Auntie Jin's carpet.

I was mortified.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.."

"I'll get it, you take him somewhere and calm him down."

I heard another voice, slowly raising my head to see Mal standing close by, his concerned features making me feel even more guilty.

"Thanks."

Paul sighed, once again hoisting me off of the floor and grunting a little with the effort, forcing me to walk to the nearest bedroom and sitting me down on the mattress.

The taste in my mouth and the emptiness of my stomach made a weak and fatigued feeling spread through my body, and I soon laid my head on the pillow, breathing heavily with what must have been adrenaline from earlier. Paul was standing in front of the bed with an unreadable face, seemingly pissed off and sympathetic all at once.

"Are you going to explain why you were close to murdering Bob Wooler in the fucking backyard?" He questioned.

His voice felt like honey this time, though. Smooth and quiet and soft. I felt like I could touch the texture of the sounds being emitted from his mouth. Caress each word and kiss every syllable.

Not the best thing to do in this context, nor with these particular words, but it would be a beautiful thought otherwise.

"He wouldn't stop talking about the trip to Spain. Called me queer."

My eyes were falling shut, a gentle sigh being heard from a place that felt far away. I could've fallen asleep there so easily. The house's smell vaguely resembled Mimi's and I was slowly sinking into the comfortable duvet.

Every time I was close to drifting off, his voice called me back.

"If Bob tells his story to the press then it will definitely be in the papers. Is that the kind of publicity you want? The image?"

"Eppy will fix it, he wouldn't let it happen."

"Maybe we're tired of solving every problem you cause, John. It's hard cleaning up every damn mess!"

This time my eyes snapped open as I stared at him openly, not caring if he could see that his statement made me upset. It was a low blow, even for Paul, who never bothered to take my feelings into consideration. Lately he seemed to care less and less.

"Would it be better in the long run if I just weren't around?" I whispered, not trusting my voice beyond that.

In a way, I wanted him to say yes. This wasn't the first time I'd screwed up, and it wouldn't be the last.

"Of course not, no, I didn't mean it that way.." He softened up, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking at me with those honest eyes of his.

Right now they seemed more grey than hazel, but it was a beautiful grey. They were storm clouds on a rainy day, taking up the entire sky. Calm - but with the ability to strike with lightening at any given time.

"What did you mean?"

I moved closer to him, reaching out and gripping onto his wrist. The feeling of his warm skin left me shaky inside, it had been so long since he'd touched me with those hands..stroked and caressed..

"I want to know what happened in Spain."

"Oh."

"Are you going to tell me?"

"Not much. All he did was suck me off, showed me which boys he fancied."

"John!"

Paul yelled in surprise, whacking me across my chest. His lips were parted and he looked winded, as if someone had sucked all of the oxygen from his lungs and he couldn't get enough to form his sentence correctly. I almost preferred him that way.

"It's nothing worse than what we've done." I replied quietly.

It was definitely the wrong button to push. His cheeks burned red and he looked away, towards the closed bedroom door to chew on his fingernail. I felt oddly sober now, more sober than I had ever been, if that even could make sense.

The shadows of his eyelashes danced uncertainly on his cheeks, the dark shade looking like circles due to intense insomnia. He looked older, more mature, even with his baby face.

"I thought we weren't talking about that." He whispered, resting his hands on his lap.

"Maybe we should."

"Talk to Eppy." He snapped.

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