How to Change the World Part 4
Title: How to Change the World
Author: glomerdian
Rating: R?
Warnings: homophobia and language and what not
Summary: "The reporter sat there in shock, watching as Paul took another drag of his cigarette. The 'cute Beatle', Paul McCartney, was a f---ing queer!"
Author notes: Right, should I put a disclaimer that says that this is fiction and didn't happen. Fine, this is fiction and didn't happen.
Sunlight entered through a window in the bedroom; Paul’s eyes opened, taking in the fresh light entering his eyes. Someone was holding him, but it wasn’t just someone. He could never be nonchalant about this person; nor calm about this person.
His consciousness slowly settled in, realization striking his brain. It was in that moment, Paul legitimately rested; cherishing the few moments he could rest in peace. The outside world faded away like some vague memory, all his worries melting away into nothing. The other man’s arms tightened around him, to no protest of the man being embraced.
“Good mornin’, luv.”
The other man’s voice rippled through the empty room, somehow making everything feel warmer. Paul shifted, turning so that his back was no longer facing this man.
And for a few moments, Paul’s eyes lingered on his face. Each wrinkle and crevice was examined, each in a perfect place. Such beauty and pleasure could be found just in his face alone. The sparkling brown irises of his counterpart examined Paul as well, both men being taken in by the other.
“John.”
It was always John. John.
Both of them smiled to each other, their bodies moving closer together. There was no tangle of limbs, there was no desperation. Each body fit perfectly into the other, as if it were designed to be so. As if there were no other places for them to be.
It was all interrupted by a loud bang on the gate outside.
“Jesus Christ, what the hell was that?” John said with agitation.
Paul placed a petite thumb onto his lip as some indication of a thought.
“Don’t know. Also, kind of don’t want to leave.”
John laughed, “I would never want to leave at will either,” John paused, stroking Paul’s hair as he fell silent, “but I also don’t want to get murdered. I’ll go check.”
John slowly creeped out of bed, finding the pants he had hastily thrown on the floor the previous evening.
As he walked towards the door, he started hearing… yelling? It sounded like a large collective of people yelling. What the hell?
He clicked the intercom button to get a jist of the situation.
“Uh… hello?”
A response came a few seconds later, at first it was just the sound of a crowd.
“Paul McCartney, we’re concerned,” the woman was drowned out of the crowd for a second, “concerned parents of young children! We’re protesting you and your sick mind!”
“Yeah,” some other man’s voice went on, “We want you out of the business!”
John stepped away from the intercom, making his way into the bedroom once more.
“Well… we’ve got visitors.”
~~*~~
The television came on, BBC News playing as John and Paul ate their breakfast.
“We’re here at the home of Paul McCartney, Cavendish Ave. It was a normal day, until protesters arrived on the scene. Several of them are distressed parents protesting the recent news about Mr. McCartney. We go now to the crowd.”
The man walked to some of the protesters holding signs. One sign said ‘Repent Paul McCartney’.
“Why are you here, what is it that you’re protesting?”
The women looking to be the other sign holder’s wife replied. “Well, we believe this life choice Paul McCartney is making is absolutely disgusting. We don’t want are kids idolizing these men. It may seem that the kids are okay with it, but their opinions don’t matter. We’re the adults; we control what’s going to be played around the house. I, for one, am not letting another Beatles record set foot in the house again!”
“Well, a worthy cause,” the news reporter said.
Outside the television box, John and Paul were finishing the meal they had made for themselves, looking at each other with concern.
“Maybe we should turn off the telly for a little while.” John walked over to the TV, shutting it off.
He walked back, collecting the dirty plates on the table to wash them. Silence lingered in the room, until Paul spoke.
“I knew they’d all hate me.”
John was silent as he turned off the water.
“They don’t hate you, luv. It’s just that the assholes are always louder than the good people.”
“No, John. They’re louder because there’s more of them.”
“Paul,” John walked over to Paul’s seat, placing both hands on the side of his head, “fuck them.”
Paul chuckled as John placed small kisses on his face and neck.
“Alright, alright. Sto-”
They were interrupted when they heard the window shatter.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ!”
John quickly paced to the room with the shattered window, only to find a brick on the floor next to the broken pieces. There was a note on the brick, it read:
Die queer scum.
John’s body tensed with anger. This was fucking ridiculous.
“What happened?!” Paul yelled from the doorpost, “Holy shit, they threw a brick… is that a note?”
Paul walked over to John, trying to retrieve the note. John crumpled it and threw on the ground.
“God damn it, John! What the hell did it say?!”
Paul became unreasonably furious, not being able to look at John.
“Paul, you expected this stuff to happen.”
“Tell me!”
“It’s not-”
“Please… just say it.”
“Die queer scum.”
Paul looked at the floor, hands at his sides. He did expect this to happen, there were always assholes like this.
“I’ll call the police; maybe they can remove them off my property or something?”
John nodded, sitting at the kitchen table. Paul dialed the number for the station, tapping his foot in desperation.
“Hello. City of London Police.”
“Yes, hello. There’s a disturbance on my property. I’d like to see if I could get anyone over here…”
“Name?”
“Paul McCartney.”
“You mean the queer singer?” The masculine voice became rough.
“Erm… yes?” The other line became silent. “Hello?”
No response came. Paul smashed the phone back in its place, rage taking over him.
“Those fuckers hung up on me!”
John still sat at the kitchen table, his hands tapping anxiously on the wood surface. “It’s unsafe here, luv. Maybe we should go to my house.”
“You mean where your wife and son are?”
John’s face stood blank, as if waiting for something to process.
“Just… It’s safer over there. That’s all that matters right now.”
“So we’re just gonna drive out the front?”
“What? Fancy a walk then?”
Paul groaned before grabbing a coat, pacing outside to John’s car. Loud voices and police whistles could be heard from outside his home, different profanities being heard from around. The police weren’t from the phone call; they were most likely trying to control the crowd.
His partner followed quickly behind, keys in hand. John unlocked the car, but did not enter right away.
“We’ll drive up to the front, you open the gate. Then we’ll proceed to get the hell out of here without running anyone over.”
Paul huffed. “Maybe we should run them over.”
John drove up to the front of the driveway. Quickly, Paul pressed the button on the remote he had to open the gate. Slowly the doors revealed the faces of hundreds of angry protesters. They held signs using rather… insulting terminology. Several of them were religious extremists and others just stood by in silence.
John drove slightly forward, the crowd beginning to mob around the car. Slowly John began to move farther out, being careful not to injure any of the angry mob members. Several people covered the windows, reminding Paul of the fans who did the same thing. Except, these people were the exact opposite of fans.
After a quick struggle, John was able to free himself from the grasp of the crowd. Once fully outside, Paul closed the gates of the house, trying to give himself false hope that no one trespassed.
Now ready to leave, John drove at full speed, leaving the echoes of angry voices behind. Paul rested his head on the window, glad to be away from the madness. A heavy sigh left his lips. At least he had made it out alive.
“You alright there, son?” John looked sideways and at the road, trying to comfort Paul.
The man in the other seat smiled weakly. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”
The rest of the drive they sat in silence.
~~*~~
They arrived at Kenwood; the sun was in its afternoon position. Cynthia was in the house with Julian, John greeted her with a kiss. It made Paul slightly jealous, but there was nothing he could do.
“Cyn, can I speak with you in the kitchen, please?” John dragged Cynthia in the kitchen, though their conversation could still be heard.
“Hey, Jules,” Paul directed at toddler playing with blocks on the floor.
“Hello, Uncle Paul,” responded the three year old with enthusiasm.
“Cyn… Paul’s been having a rough time at his house. I told him he could stay here a while.”
“John, I’m not sure if I’m completely comfortable with that.”
“You playin’ blocks there?” Paul knelt on the floor, helping Julian build whatever it was he was building. The young boy nodded, welcoming Paul into his construction endeavors.
“What do you mean you’re not comfortable?”
“Because… he’s mentally ill, John.”
The tower collapsed from weight, and as a result, Julian cried out in protest.
“What?”
“He’s sick John, I don’t want his kind around Julian. They prey on children.”
“Cyn…”
“No, John. We can’t have men like him in this house.”
“That’s alright, Julian. We’ll start it over,” Paul patted the boy’s head.
“I don’t give a shit what you think. He’s my friend, and he’s staying here.”
Footsteps were heard coming from the kitchen, John strutting angrily in the room.
“C’mon Paul, we have a guest bedroom you can stay in for a few days.”
John directed him to the guest bedroom, both men walking in silence as they went up the staircase. There was obvious tension between them, but neither man had intended on breaking it.
“Well, here’s the room.”
“Thanks.”
“Also, you can borrow some of my clothes.”
“Right.”
Both men stood in the room in silence, a piercing gaze lingering between them. John backed away, closing the door behind him, the lock clicking soon after. Now it was just them. He rushed to the other man, placing a his harsh lips against the other. Paul practically fell onto the bed as John pressed himself against the other body. Tongues intertwined in their mouths as the sloppy kiss grew deeper. Their only interruption came when Paul pulled away to breathe, forgetting his nose was built for that purpose.
“God, John. We can’t do this here.”
John caressed the side of Paul’s face, running a thumb on his cheeks. The other man shivered under the contact.
“I just can’t control myself, son. Not with that face of yours.”
“Dinner is ready!”
Both men realized that they weren’t the only two people in the world, looking up at the locked door. Each brushed themselves off as they stood up, trying to remain calm.
It was in that moment they realized that they were starving.
~~*~~
The sound of silverware and dinner plates filled the room as the four people ate in silence. John and Paul sat across from each other, stealing glances occasionally.
Being John Lennon, the man rubbed his foot against his partner sitting across from him. He received a surprised look, his counterpart suddenly frozen.
John chuckled at the reaction, Paul giving him a quick death stare. Cynthia and Julian were oblivious to the small interaction as they continued to eat their peas in silence.
“So, Paul,” Cynthia began her sentence and John looked at her with intense anger, “How long do you think you will be staying?”
“Just a few days. Sorry, I don’t mean to be a nuisance.”
“That’s alright, Paul. Just one thing…” Cynthia seemed weary to continue, “Just… please keep your personal life to yourself please.”
“Cynthia!” John yelled at the woman.
“John it’s okay! Really.”
“Paul, I’m sorry. But you do have to understand I have to protect my kid.”
“Cyn shut the hell up!”
Julian began to cry.
“John! Stop, okay! It’s fine.”
Cynthia quietly picked up a sobbing Julian, carrying him to the other room with a quick strut. The dining room was now embraced in silence. The two men sitting across from one another couldn’t look at each other.
John still staring at the ground, finally spoke.
“I couldn’t let her speak to you like that.” Silence followed the statement, Paul looking at the partially empty plate.
“I already expected this sort of treatment, John.”
“Well it’s still fucked up!”
Paul physically tensed, his features displaying his agitation. “Everything’s fucked up, John! This whole world is fucked up, and there not a god damn thing you can do to change that!”
John lifted himself from the chair walking in Paul’s direction. To Paul’s astonishment, John placed a small kiss on his cheek before leaving the kitchen.
He stood there in shock, his cheeks probably some shade of scarlet.
Following the actions of everyone else, he retired to his bedroom.