Fic: The Art 1/?
Title: The Art, Part 1- Meet John
Author: imabeatlemaniac
Pairing: John/ Paul
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Swearing, implied drug use.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's Notes: THIS IS A MODERN AU. Set in London not Liverpool, and some slight OOC. Sorry.
John looked at the ceiling of his bedroom. His finger deftly running over the strings of his guitar. Damn Mimi, well Aunt Mimi. She hated it when John just called her Mimi. They had just had a row and John had once more been banished to his room. He couldn't wait to get out of there.
Not just out of the apartment, but out of fucking London he hated it there.
He hated it all, from the Thames river, to the stupid city noises that never ended. To their stupid neighbors. Who were they the 'Epsteins'? Fucking queer couple right next door. Now John didn't have anything against them, not at all, he was tolerant of sexualities, but his bedroom was next to theirs and well.... the stories he could tell.
He was just having a really bad day, he hated arguing with Mimi, because she was paying for art school, she raised him, and she was letting him stay in this good-for-nothing apartment. It was raining, he abhorred the rain. Granted it rained ALL the fucking time. This was England after all, in winter, but he couldn't stand it. Stuart, his boyfriend, had just dumped him after class today. That 'Astrid' tart had taken him away from John.
John's fingers strummed the open strings in anger as the memory flooded back and tears pricked his eyes.
"John, we need to talk about something," Stuart began.
"Oh fucking christ," John said.
"What?"
"That's how women always start conversations about........" John's eyes widened, "Oh..."
"Yeah," Stuart replied, looking at his feet.
"Why?"
"Astrid."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"I'll be on my way then," John said turning on his heel, half hoping that Stuart would stop him, explain, or even give a feeble 'I'm sorry'.
Nothing.
John broke from his reverie and wiped his eyes.
"John? What's wrong?" Mimi asked through the closed door.
"Nothing Mimi! Go away!"
"You were crying awfully loud."
"GO AWAY!" John yelled.
There was a scoff and the sound of feet moving away from him. John went back to hating his life. He loved art, he was an artistic person really. He did drawings and poetry, albeit, odd poetry. He even wrote a few songs. But Mimi wanted him to be an accountant. Of course a woman from the stone age would want him to be something sensible. John hated numbers though, let alone working with them for a living. Looking at it all, there didn't seem to be much John didn't hate at the moment. But he supposed it was from the sting of Stu dropping him like it was nothing, just so he could fuck someone with tits. John sighed, he doubted he'd meet someone else like Stu, Stu had been amazing.
John rolled onto his stomach and buried his face into his pillow, he felt so used and dejected. Would it really have been so hard for Stu to even say "I'm sorry about this" ? Apparently. That stung like a bitch. John stared at the blue pillowcase and tried not to think too much at the moment. He didn't want to cry. He'd had his share of crying and he wasn't about to give Stu anymore silent satisfaction of making the great John Lennon cry more. No. He pulled the quilted blanket Mimi had made for him as a child over himself and snuggled down.
He'd always lived with his Aunt and had minimal contact with his mother. He was a mistake. Unprotected sex with one of her numerous boyfriends, if you could call them that, and voila, John came to be. He should have counted his blessings that he hadn't been aborted. Julia had come close to it. But Mimi had spoken up and said that she'd take care of John. Therefor saving John's life. So he did owe a lot to Mimi. But as soon as John was born Julia split and went back to drinking herself to death, and shooting herself up with heroin. She was in New York John last heard.
He sniffled, this thought hadn't helped at all. Julia, his own mother, didn't love him, his boyfriend left him, Mimi was mad at him for coming home in the middle of the day from school, he wasn't feeling very loved. John waited another two minutes until he heard Mimi go to her late afternoon bridge came before he left his tears flow. Mimi hated to hear him cry so he always cried when no one else could hear. He sniffled and wiped his eyes on his sleeve.
"Why?" John asked to no one, "Why me?"
This was a question he'd been asking pretty often. He did know that he was rather lucky. He was rather well off, he pretty much had whatever he wanted. But he'd always fucked up with relationships. No matter what kind of relationships they were.
He pulled himself off and swore he wouldn't dwell on this, it wasn't helping matter any.... at all. He put his shoes on and grabbed his raincoat. A walk could do him good, or he could try to drown himself in the Tames. Both sound rather gruesome. He exited the apartment and left the building. He walked down the rain stained sidewalk. Cars zoomed by him, that's all London ever seemed to be, cars, people, shops, buildings of concrete and iron.
John was fascinated by architecture. So long as it was old churches and older buildings. Now everything was so sleek and modern, so... square, and grey, and, boring. That was the word he was looking for. He always looked for strange shops and other places, that stood out yet hid in busy London. They could be so obvious, but people overlooked them because they were different. Hiding in plain sight as it were.
When John was with his friends he always went along with them to all the new modern places. But now that he was alone with himself, he was free to go where he pleased. And he looked for these places as he walked down London's busy streets.
Splash.
John froze and stood still. "Fuck!" he muttered angrily. He was soaked from head to toe from a puddle on the side of the road. He sighed and put his head in his hands. Now his glasses were filthy.
He swallowed back frustrated tears when he heard some music. It sounded like Elvis actually. John loved Elvis, he loved his rock and roll ways and his music was amazing. But he rarely heard it in public. Not enough people listened to Elvis anymore. And he wanted to search out the location of this music.
He found it at a odd little coffee shop, the name, painted in yellow, on a sign, nailed to the outside of the shop, was 'L'art'. John knew some French, Mimi had taken him on a trip there when he finished High School, he had ended his years there with good grades and he got to visit Paris. So he knew the coffee shop was 'The Art'.
"The Art of what?" John scoffed, but the music was inside, and he always followed music.
Author: imabeatlemaniac
Pairing: John/ Paul
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Swearing, implied drug use.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's Notes: THIS IS A MODERN AU. Set in London not Liverpool, and some slight OOC. Sorry.
John looked at the ceiling of his bedroom. His finger deftly running over the strings of his guitar. Damn Mimi, well Aunt Mimi. She hated it when John just called her Mimi. They had just had a row and John had once more been banished to his room. He couldn't wait to get out of there.
Not just out of the apartment, but out of fucking London he hated it there.
He hated it all, from the Thames river, to the stupid city noises that never ended. To their stupid neighbors. Who were they the 'Epsteins'? Fucking queer couple right next door. Now John didn't have anything against them, not at all, he was tolerant of sexualities, but his bedroom was next to theirs and well.... the stories he could tell.
He was just having a really bad day, he hated arguing with Mimi, because she was paying for art school, she raised him, and she was letting him stay in this good-for-nothing apartment. It was raining, he abhorred the rain. Granted it rained ALL the fucking time. This was England after all, in winter, but he couldn't stand it. Stuart, his boyfriend, had just dumped him after class today. That 'Astrid' tart had taken him away from John.
John's fingers strummed the open strings in anger as the memory flooded back and tears pricked his eyes.
"John, we need to talk about something," Stuart began.
"Oh fucking christ," John said.
"What?"
"That's how women always start conversations about........" John's eyes widened, "Oh..."
"Yeah," Stuart replied, looking at his feet.
"Why?"
"Astrid."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"I'll be on my way then," John said turning on his heel, half hoping that Stuart would stop him, explain, or even give a feeble 'I'm sorry'.
Nothing.
John broke from his reverie and wiped his eyes.
"John? What's wrong?" Mimi asked through the closed door.
"Nothing Mimi! Go away!"
"You were crying awfully loud."
"GO AWAY!" John yelled.
There was a scoff and the sound of feet moving away from him. John went back to hating his life. He loved art, he was an artistic person really. He did drawings and poetry, albeit, odd poetry. He even wrote a few songs. But Mimi wanted him to be an accountant. Of course a woman from the stone age would want him to be something sensible. John hated numbers though, let alone working with them for a living. Looking at it all, there didn't seem to be much John didn't hate at the moment. But he supposed it was from the sting of Stu dropping him like it was nothing, just so he could fuck someone with tits. John sighed, he doubted he'd meet someone else like Stu, Stu had been amazing.
John rolled onto his stomach and buried his face into his pillow, he felt so used and dejected. Would it really have been so hard for Stu to even say "I'm sorry about this" ? Apparently. That stung like a bitch. John stared at the blue pillowcase and tried not to think too much at the moment. He didn't want to cry. He'd had his share of crying and he wasn't about to give Stu anymore silent satisfaction of making the great John Lennon cry more. No. He pulled the quilted blanket Mimi had made for him as a child over himself and snuggled down.
He'd always lived with his Aunt and had minimal contact with his mother. He was a mistake. Unprotected sex with one of her numerous boyfriends, if you could call them that, and voila, John came to be. He should have counted his blessings that he hadn't been aborted. Julia had come close to it. But Mimi had spoken up and said that she'd take care of John. Therefor saving John's life. So he did owe a lot to Mimi. But as soon as John was born Julia split and went back to drinking herself to death, and shooting herself up with heroin. She was in New York John last heard.
He sniffled, this thought hadn't helped at all. Julia, his own mother, didn't love him, his boyfriend left him, Mimi was mad at him for coming home in the middle of the day from school, he wasn't feeling very loved. John waited another two minutes until he heard Mimi go to her late afternoon bridge came before he left his tears flow. Mimi hated to hear him cry so he always cried when no one else could hear. He sniffled and wiped his eyes on his sleeve.
"Why?" John asked to no one, "Why me?"
This was a question he'd been asking pretty often. He did know that he was rather lucky. He was rather well off, he pretty much had whatever he wanted. But he'd always fucked up with relationships. No matter what kind of relationships they were.
He pulled himself off and swore he wouldn't dwell on this, it wasn't helping matter any.... at all. He put his shoes on and grabbed his raincoat. A walk could do him good, or he could try to drown himself in the Tames. Both sound rather gruesome. He exited the apartment and left the building. He walked down the rain stained sidewalk. Cars zoomed by him, that's all London ever seemed to be, cars, people, shops, buildings of concrete and iron.
John was fascinated by architecture. So long as it was old churches and older buildings. Now everything was so sleek and modern, so... square, and grey, and, boring. That was the word he was looking for. He always looked for strange shops and other places, that stood out yet hid in busy London. They could be so obvious, but people overlooked them because they were different. Hiding in plain sight as it were.
When John was with his friends he always went along with them to all the new modern places. But now that he was alone with himself, he was free to go where he pleased. And he looked for these places as he walked down London's busy streets.
Splash.
John froze and stood still. "Fuck!" he muttered angrily. He was soaked from head to toe from a puddle on the side of the road. He sighed and put his head in his hands. Now his glasses were filthy.
He swallowed back frustrated tears when he heard some music. It sounded like Elvis actually. John loved Elvis, he loved his rock and roll ways and his music was amazing. But he rarely heard it in public. Not enough people listened to Elvis anymore. And he wanted to search out the location of this music.
He found it at a odd little coffee shop, the name, painted in yellow, on a sign, nailed to the outside of the shop, was 'L'art'. John knew some French, Mimi had taken him on a trip there when he finished High School, he had ended his years there with good grades and he got to visit Paris. So he knew the coffee shop was 'The Art'.
"The Art of what?" John scoffed, but the music was inside, and he always followed music.