#john lennon fanfic

He’s Leaving Home

-one shot-

John’s heart breaks into a thousand different pieces seeing the abuse that Paul goes through at home. After so many years of trauma, Paul finally has a chance to be free.

.McLennon.

• TW: description of psychological and physical abuse; description of trauma; discussions of death and homophobia.

John had arranged to meet Paul at the pier before he even left. The lone bench tucked away on the docks was the couple’s favorite spot and they knew that the city’s prying eyes rarely reached it, giving them complete freedom to be together.

John was away with his aunt for a week to visit some relatives, and it was the first time he had been away from Paul for so long. He split his mind between ardently missing Paul and worrying about him. Paul didn’t have great family stability, and John knew full well that his safety was a issue. All it took was Paul’s father to be in a bad mood, and the boy would get a new scar somewhere that couldn’t be seen.

The night John finally arrived back in town, he just wished he had Paul safe in his arms, even though the latest assault had already taken place many months ago.

John walked to the pier, a single red rose in his hands, unable to control the smile on his face knowing he would finally have Paul back.

Already seated, he enjoyed two cigarettes in the company of the calm waves below the pier, watching a few ships pass over the dark horizon and checking the watch on his wrist restlessly.

Paul announced his arrival discreetly. He walked towards John like a frightened cat, quiet and taking advantage of the dark edges of the dock. He checks if they were safe even before saying hi to his boyfriend.

John got to his feet with a big smile, the rest of the third cigarette falling to the ground to be forgotten for the rest of the night now that nothing else mattered to his lips but Paul’s. It wasn’t more than three steps away from the boy, in the yellow light of the docks, when John realized that beneath the shy smile, there were already new scars.

He hugged Paul gently, his heart racing and his smile once again turning to concern.

No words were exchanged before John’s hands found his and guided Paul back to the cold bench on the pier. They sat there, hands still clasped, and for several minutes Paul avoided all the questions he heard and just stared into John’s eyes, as if trying to melt into them once more.

When the questions could no longer be avoided and the red rose rested peacefully in his hands, they began to talk. John, despite loving his boyfriend’s voice, knew he wouldn’t love the things he would hear about his period of absence.

“Have you at leats been able to rest, love?” John asked a few minutes later, his eyes unable to stray for a second from his beloved.

The two were sitting so close together that the rest of the bench could easily not exist. They leaned against each other, looking apprehensively over the bench in case anyone showed up. Paul closed his eyes and let himself sink for a few seconds in the scent of John and the safety of his embrace. A small relief to what he went trough.

“I’m not sure when was the last time I slept well. Between all the fighting and screaming my head has been having trouble shutting down” Paul whispered “It’s like I’ve been listening to the echoes for hours and hours and hours, y'know.”

John held him gently, afraid to cause discomfort with the bruises. His hands slid under Paul’s hair and he tried not to be swallowed up by the impotence he felt.

The first time Paul sought him out was no different from a night like this. A knock on John’s bedroom window let him know Paul was there, and a glance at his face made it clear why.

They snuggled in bed together and imagined happy scenarios that involved running away to Paris together or even John going over to Paul’s house to teach James a lesson. Paul was crying softly so as not to disturb, and John held him tight so he would know he wasn’t alone, all until he slept soundly against John’s chest.

Sometimes the nights were more frequent, sometimes months went by without Paul appearing with bruises, but the two always knew it was not the end. The next time always existed, and John was never prepared to see his lover hurt.

“Sometimes I think I deserve it, y'know. I think it’s these nights that nightmares find me easier.” Paul’s voice brought John back to the pier. He pulled away from John to light a cigarette and cross his legs as if trying to take up less space in the world.

“I think I should be a better son or…” Paul trailed off, looking away, trying to make sense of what he felt “I don’t know, maybe I should be something different.”

“It’s not your fault, Paulie” John started to say, his eyes roving painfully over the bruises on the other boy’s face “You don’t have to be someone different. You’re perfect this way and it’s not your fault your dad doesn’t agree.”

Paul knew that John spoke the truth, and that he loved him for what he was. He also knew that in an ideal reality he would be free to love John and not feel guilty one second for it, but when he felt his face burn under yet another slap from his father and heard all the grievances about his love for John, he couldn’t help but think that maybe he wasn’t so worthy of the love John felt for him.

“I thought they had stopped” John said, feeling his chest sink “The nightmares, I mean.”

“Well…” Paul continued “They stop when my dad stops.”

Paul’s most recent nightmares were enough to make him wish to never sleep again. He always started out alone in a completely dark place, a single light walking slowly towards him, growing more and more as it comes. With his heart already beating desperately, Paul realizes that it is his father walking towards him holding a torch, so high that he could easily be a tower. James then threats to set fire to the music sheets and instruments of Paul that, trying to rescue them, realizes that he is tied up and helpless. Even worse, when his father turn in the dark, he sets John on fire and Paul is forced to listen to him burn slowly, helplessly aswell.

John knew that Paul’s nightmares could be quite cruel. He remembers many times, when they shared a bed at Mendips, where Paul would wake up in the middle of the night sobbing so hard that not even John’s whispers could calm him down. John knew Paul relived the moments of pain and fear from home, and he felt devastated that he couldn’t help. No more than just stay there and listen.

“I make an effort to get out of them, to wake up” Paul blurted, smoke trickling from his lips “But I never quite know why, y'know. There’s no relief in waking up.”

At least that, John could understand. He remembers all the nights he spent thinking it wouldn’t matter to the world whether he woke up or not. The feeling of waking up and forgetting for a few seconds who you are or where you are, only to have all the emotions and pain thrown in your face again.

He pulled Paul against him, John’s eager eyes sliding over every detail he loved, which were now corrupted by bruises far deeper than showed on the surface. “Look at me, luve” he whispered.

Paul turned with some difficulty to meet John’s gaze and listened intently to everything he said.

“Remember that poem we read together that day? About how spring will still come if we die?*” Paul nodded attentively before John continued “Reality doesn’t need us, luve. We have no commitment to the task of existing, y'know, no commitment to what other people expect of us.”

“I love you” John said, a gentle smile on his lips “And spring comes for me, even if I love another man. It certainly comes for you, no matter what your father thinks of our love.”

Paul remembers the poem. The night he and John spent debating how beautiful it was to live just for the joy of living and how far away they were from it.

“I…I love you too John” Paul whispered, pressing his forehead to John’s “You’re the only thing that gives me hope of being what I really want to be.”

They didn’t need to say, they knew the thing Paul wanted to be was free. Simply free.

John glanced over his shoulder quickly before sliding a gentle kiss over Paul’s lips, a kiss that sealed their agreement never to give up on being together one day. Free.

“Remember when we planned to run away?” John whispered, his eyes searched Paul’s lips for a hint of a smile “We even wrote the farewell letters.”

“Dear Mimi…” Paul tried to keep his laughter low, leaning his body gently against John as if whispering a secret “Oh boy… that could have turned out so different” He finally concluded.

“She would never understand what she did wrong” John said, putting a finger to his mouth and biting it nervously “ She would have spent the rest of her life saying I was ungrateful and treated her badly.”

“Of course…” Paul took a long drag on his cigarette before pulling John’s face to look him in the eye “Because how dare you not like having your mental and physical space violated? How dare you, boy?”

“I missed… I missed you so much that sometimes you didn’t feel real in my head anymore” Paul whispered apologetically, as if he still needed confirmation that John was there with him.

“I don’t feel very real sometimes either, y'know” John completed, lifting Paul’s chin towards his face “But now, with you, I’m pretty sure I am.”

John got lost in Paul’s eyes for a few seconds, before starting to speak as if he were pleading, “Let’s go, Paulie. The two of us.”

He held Paul’s face in his hands and whispered ardently, as if this time it would be enough to convince Paul “We can be so happy together. And I… I can take care of you.”

“I really wanted to go” Paul said, the sad smile filling his face once more “Whenever I imagine running away with you I… I imagine finally having a safe place I guess.”

“So let’s do it” John said, stroking him hopefully “You’re the only thing I care about in this place, there’s nothing stopping us!”

Paul always felt guilty about being the one to burst John’s bubble, always reminding him that he couldn’t just walk away.

“Love, it’s not that easy” He replied seeing that John’s hope had already dissipated “I hope you can understand that… I don’t… I can’t just go.”

A small part of John needed to work harder to understand than he wanted to admit. Sometimes he thought Paul could rebel better, or maybe simply hit back.

“Simply.”

Even John recognized that he wasn’t the best person in the world to have a conversation about abuse, and he cared enough about Paul to try not to make matters worse.

“Ei” John whispered, gently stroking Paul’s face “The only reason I even talk about running away is because I wish I could protect you… protect better than dis, y'know.”

“And I love you for that but… I can’t just go” Paul concluded, looking away to the calm waters below the pier “I think… I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

John’s hands rested nonchalantly on Paul’s shoulders until the boy finally announced that he needed to walk back home.

The only sign left by the couple on the bench was a small cigarette remnant and the faint scent of John’s perfume, festering in the air for a few more seconds after they finally parted.

The farewells were long and graced with whispers of undying love. If it weren’t for the fact that they were both dreading the goodbye and that they never knew when they would see each other again, it would be a farewell worthy of the most passionate couple in any movie.

“You know where to find me, luve” was the last thing John said before he walked away. A single sad nod signaled that Paul knew, but somehow hoped that he wouldn’t need to go there once more.

The walk home was made in the company of another cigarette, and for Paul, a beautiful red rose, still safe between his fingers.

Even before opening the small rusty gate at the entrance to the house, his heart sank when he realized that the figure of his father was already waiting for him. James was looking out through the small glass cutout in the door, as if making it clear that Paul was about to enter enemy territory.

For the first time in the night, and perhaps in his life, Paul felt the pain in his bruises intensify, and he hesitated. He knew what was about to happen but this time something inside him changed. Paul felt he had something to lose and for the first time, that he deserved to be waited on by something better, something warmer. Something like John and the love they had for each other.

Even before his cigarette hit the dirt path under his feet, Paul had already turned around.

The small metal gate slammed into his back as if warning him to leave faster. Paul backed away from there, taking a deep breath, holding John’s rose tight between his fingers.

The only scar that Paul would proudly bear for all the years to come was the small hole in his right hand, the hole made by the single thorn of John’s rose. He would remember her as the last wound in that house, the wound that represented his freedom.

He wouldn’t notice the thin streak of blood coming out of his hand until later, when he finally arrived at John’s house and announced that he was ready to live an uncertain future with him.

His nightmares would be as forgotten in the past as his scars and John would become his family, the one he deserved and would finally fill him with as much happiness as he’d hoped his entire life.

He left home to finally understand what a home really was.

*Quando a Primavera Vier (When Spring Comes) is a poem by Fernando Pessoa (under the pseudonym of Alberto Caeiro) and can be read in english here.

SUN KING

-oneshot-

You live the beginning of a forbidden romance with George and in one night alone, you two can finally settle your feelings for each other.

.F!Reader x George Harrison.

• Word Count: 900

The sound of the boys in the living room was only interrupted by the occasional thunder that echoed against the city sky. Liverpool had been drenched in rain and lightning for hours, leaving you with nothing else to do but entertain yourself with a book in your room.

Your brother John and his other band mates were in the living room having fun with some new tune Paul wrote, while they waited for the rain to stop before heading together to a bar.

The noise didn’t bother you, but it was George’s voice, so close to your room that he might as well be in your bed, that disconcerted you.

It was after nine at night when you gave up trying to focus on reading. Lying in the dark until sleep overtook you, imagining that George was there with you, was better than that anyway.

What your brother John could never have imagined is that George was also sitting in the living room imagining you, lying alone in the dark, your smooth skin brushing against the covers. All he wanted was to be curled up in the same blanket as you while the rain poured down outside.

For years you and George have exchanged glances and hidden notes, eagerly awaiting the day when you could have a date or a moment together without getting the anger of John, who had already made it clear that he would kill anyone who approached you.

The last note, rushed through by George about a week ago while John was taking a shower, summed up in a few words the burning feeling that had developed between you two over the past few years. The note lay tucked under your pillow, worshiped by you nightly, awaiting the moment when George could read your answer scrawled on the back.

You must have spent no more than fifteen minutes lying down before you heard the bedroom door slowly open.

“Y/N?” John’s voice found you in the dark “Are ye awake?”

“Yeah, what do you need?” You replied, turning towards the door to find John’s outline against the light that poured in.

“I’m going to run with Paul to his house. Ringo is also going with us to help take the guitars” He completed “You’ll be fine here alone for a few hours?”

Usually when John said he was going to be gone for a few hours, it meant he wouldn’t be back until the next day.

“Of course, Johnny. No problem” You replied, curiosity and hope taking hold of you “Is… George going too?”

“No, he won’t” John replied, unable to know that inside you a thousand fireworks were exploding with happiness “He already went home” John completed.

Oh.

“Well, we’re going then. Goodnight, Y/N” John blew a kiss in your direction and with a disappointed farewell on your part, he was gone.

The door to the room slammed shut and you were left with all the dead butterflies in your stomach.

Until you heard a loud knock on the front door.

Quickly getting up and running into the living room, you didn’t even remember that you were wearing only one of John’s old shirts until you opened the door and saw who was behind her.

George entered the room quickly, dodging you and fleeing the heavy rain outside. He laughed and mumbled while you watched him in the dark.

“George?” You asked, as you locked the door “Wh… what happened?”

“John’s gone, isn’t he?” You turned on the light and had to control the heat in your face when you saw that George had taken off his shirt and was trying to dry his hair with it.

He was standing in the living room and had a goofy smile on his lips, almost worried “I thought… we could use this time to talk, y'know, instead of the notes.”

You offered to get him a dry shirt while he controlled himself as much as possible not to cry at the sight of your long, bare legs. Almost a forbidden sight.

George quickly formed a pile of wet clothes in the corner of your room, while you distracted yourself in the dark trying not to imagine George’s warm body just a few feet away.

He was now wearing a blue shirt, his wet hair left little drops of water to mark the fabric near his shoulder, and he was intensely grateful for the dry clothes.

“The rain is so cold I was afraid I’d never feel me hands again” George whispered as you felt the bed give under his weight “See how cold they are.”

Before you could object, George’s icy hands slid over your thighs, making you jump, eliciting a loud laugh from him, not even trying to apologize.

Before you knew it, you and George were sharing a hot cup of tea in your room. The walls were eventually lit by a stray thunder and you had little glimpses of George, who was still sitting on the edge of the bed. The conversation between you two was confortable, and George made you laugh as easily as rain seemed to fall from the sky that night.

You were grateful that the lights were still off when he set the cup on the floor and quickly approached you in the bed.

“Y/N, I…” George was arranging his body in an attempt to get as close as possible. It was like you could feel the weight of his gaze, even in the dark “I… do you remember that note? The last one? Did you read it?”

George’s voice was unsteady for the first time that night. He couldn’t imagine that every night you reached your fingers under your pillow, just to feel the fold of paper gently placed there, wishing to heavens that George would go to sleep knowing how much you loved him, how much you wanted him around.

George reached across the blanket for your skin and found your hand, still warm from the cup of tea “Y/N?”

Before you could respond, the sound of paper being unfolded filled the shy space between you and George.

“Something in the way you smile makes me feel like I don’t need anything else. I love you, and I wish more than anything that one day you could be mine in the same way I am yours.”

George remember every word of that note, but hearing them in your voice made him shiver in the dark.

“I read it, Georgie” You continued “Actually, I read it every day since the moment you put it in my hand.”

George’s forehead sought yours, his hand gently stroked the back of your neck. He was so close now that the dim glow from the window was able to light up his dark eyes.

“I… I waited for an answer, y'know. Every time I saw you pass I waited for a sign that…” His hand moved to caress your face as you closed your eyes and just focused in George’s warm breath “… that you felt that way too.”

Without even having to check the back of the note, you recited the words you’ve lived by for so many years:

“There isn’t a part of me that isn’t yours. Not even the smallest of them, not even the most insignificant. I love you the same as the sun loves the sky, and I’ll love you long after he’s gone.”

It took George a few seconds to realize what you had said. He lifted his forehead from yours and the fingers that had once caressed your cheeks dropped heavily into his lap as if he’d forgotten for a moment how to support their weight.

You searched George’s face in the dark and, letting your hands get lost on the boy’s shoulder, you whispered practically with your lips glued to his “I love you George, I love you too.”

It was as if the words served as a trigger for the boy.

His hands quickly pulled you against him on the bed, positioning himself under your legs. Your hands gladly got lost in George’s damp hair as his mouth sank into yours, so hot you could be easily kissing the sun itself.

You immersed yourself in an uncontrolled kiss, a kiss that carried the weight of an old and impossible love. George’s hands felt every free piece of your body and you, in George’s ears, returned with the most beautiful music he had ever created.

The rain outside seemed to feel like it was time to retreat. Moonlight flooded your room, giving you glimpses of George’s body above yours, the blue shirt already forgotten under the covers many hours ago.

“I can’t get enough of you, Y/N” He whispered, gently brushing his lips close to your ear “I’ll never get enough of you.”

You projected yourself on top of George this time, causing him to be underneath you “I’m yours to have whenever you want.”

The smile on George’s face quickly turned into a look of even more lust as you gently nibbled his neck.

With no concern for John or anything else, before the sun could even break over the gray horizon, you were resting against George’s bare chest on the bed. He was sleeping peacefully as if he knew he was holding everything he needed for life.

As you tried to reach your fingers under the pillow this time, you noticed that George’s long-written note was now lost somewhere on the bed.

You didn’t worry about it, though. Your fingers drew back against George’s chest and, joining his steady breathing, you knew you’d never need a piece of paper again to remind you that he was all yours.