First I must say that English is not my native language, I made a great effort to translate an entire story, I hope not to have too many mistakes in the process. This is courage and shamelessness, this is my first story on J / P, I really hope comments, suggestions grateful, I really am an illustrator but I like to narrate ideas and scripts as cartoons. Sorry for chronological errors, uncertain details or another mistakes and my audacity to believe myself like a writer. (I want to gift this tale to Yes_2Day and Ellanor_a, ... because both inspired me always) Hope you enjoy - No real warnings, except all this is fiction, don't forget- [Spoiler (click to open)]
The heavy iron cracked door opened with a horrible din, denouncing years of rustiness and disinterest. And he was here again ... he hated this place more than any other in the world, but there he was now. One step from entering. Paul looked at John and the last shot him a mischievous smile that made him blink. Paul swallowed saliva, do not fit their anguish with the urge to smile back at his friend. He opened his astonished eyes, cleared his throat and tried to keep on. Pete and Colin were already inside, stepping forward and pushing each other funny among the tombstones. - Come on, Mc Cartney! Do not tell me you're afraid of the cemetery, eh? - N..No- he stuttered and added a sigh. John seemed to be fascinated with this place, something morbid in him pushed him to defy death in all its expressions. Sassy, moved among the gravestones forgotten as mocking the brutality of human destiny. With its 17 years, did not give a damn about the solemnity of the place. They finally reached the place searched, under a generous eave in a older pantheon, the end of a lateral way. There they took refuge from the rain already was stuck in their hairs. John sat opposite Paul and accommodated the pair of guitars that had led -Cigar? he asked - Here - showed Pete - do not smoke like vampires, there are only 6 or 7 ... - Shut up and give me, here Paul needs one ... he is pale as a ghost ... Paul smiled even undigested joke too, he concentrated his fingers at the base of the guitar, he clung to her and sucked his cigar. The blood seemed to have returned to his body. They played several songs with stupid jokes, detuning and laughter. Smoking and chatting about nonsense and future projects.
This was the third meeting since Paul was in the band. The first time I had tried the Quarrymen was in a shed behind the church. Apparently Pete felt some jealousy when he saw as his friend John was paying attention to the new guy, deep down, he told himself that it could not compete against him. Paul sang, played guitar, piano and also knew tuning instruments ... !!! Devils! It was just what John needed, noticed Pete, now finishing his cigarette and he saw how John looked smiling, satisfied to the boy. Who taught you to play like this? Asked Paul to John - As well as? - You have a rare form of strumming your guitar ... - Ah ... it was Julia, taught me how to play the banjo - said John -¿ A Girlfriend? - Paul asked, surprised. Everyone laughed suddenly. - No, no ... Julia is my mother - he said smiling as he strummed the strings absently. - Uh ... Amazing ... - whispered Paul - Mine all she knows is scold and shout to me for bad grades! - Pete screamed and broke all out laughing. John intervened - Even worse is the mum of boy Colin we can not be near her son if she not throw us some scented slipper ... - Hey !! That's not true! She just wants away at you, Johnny! Hahaha Paul was having fun with these guys, did not comment but internally, he begged that no one asking him about "mother". The response always made him uncomfortable and hated that people see him in that situation. He focused his sights on a guitar note. - And your mommy Paul? What does she think of her "Elvis" baby? - Shot John. Paul looked at him and blushed unconsciously looked to the side and down his head. He was studying the words to answer when suddenly they heard footsteps and noise of keys ... - Heyyyyyyyyyyy !!! You Guys !!! Rats ... How many times have I told you not to come back here?-
It was the guardian of the cemetery! Everyone jumped and ran towards the exit, jostling. Pete, in the crazy run, lost his washboard that served as precious "Quarrymen" instrument and Colin stumbled against a mound of ground, John saw him completely muddy up and could not stop running and laughing. For some reason, he had taken arm to Paul and both struggled to keep from falling carrying their guitars.
Once outside, threw themselves under a huge tree in the park ... exhausted and cursing mercilessly.
- That was fucking close! -¡ That son of a bitch!He will tell my father, and he will kill me! - Pete cry. John looked surprised - and what? ... No one listens to old fool! - I'm going - Pete said, seemed red of anger. - I'll go with you, I have to get home and change before that some one actually see me so like a piece of sludge - Colin growled. - See you later , girls! - John shouted at them while laughing. Paul cried with laughter, he looked fascinated with John, never had so much fun. His heart was already subsiding after the run. - Do You Want? - John offered a last puff of cigarette. - Yeah John pulled his glasses from jacket pocket and watched while he smoking. Had a mixture of curiosity and enchantment with this child. The silence gave occasion to continue. - So ... you did not answer my question about your mother. Paul was overwhelmed. Not expected to return on the topic. He cleared his throat before speaking. - She died. It was last year. Cancer. His boyish face took on a serious tone suddenly and without expression. John instinctively sensed her discomfort and knew not say. - Ohhh ... shit ... shit, Paul ... I do not know how you can ... I mean, your dead mother ... how you can handle that ... you know, shit! Paul looked at his consumed cigarette and happened to John for the last puff. - I just know that she is no more with me, John, and I can do nothing to change that ... Paul stopped and from the park looked back at the stone wall that separates so "easily" the living from the dead people and was hung in a sad thought. - There she is, instead of waiting for me at home ... - said in a tiny voice and crying content. John saw for a second. A glow different in the eyes of his friend, a little tear came under their heavy lashes. Wordlessly, he put beside him, cross his arm over the shoulder of his friend. So were both. Sitting ... Dirty ... ... Under the rain ... ... and together forever.