Yesterday.

I reached up and touch my lips, still moist. I wanted to fall to my knees and die. I wanted to just… die. I hated myself… I hated him. I hate him! But I couldn’t stop touching my lips, replaying the feeling of his on mine, soft and passionate.

It hurt me to know that he still wanted me. I didn’t want him to, because then he wouldn’t be such a huge distraction. But I loved Paul, and only Paul. No one else. Paul was handsome, and sweet, and tender, and caring, and amazing.

Not that John wasn’t any of those things.

Why would I think that at all? I shook the tears off of my face and grabbed my coat from my table, throwing it loosely over my shoulders, not bothering to put my arms through the holes.

But why would he do that? Did he even care about me, or Paul? Obviously not, since he would put me in that position.

I didn’t kiss back, did I? It was so fuzzy, I can hardly think straight. I felt sick… like I was going to throw up if I didn’t put my head under a pillow and scream soon.

The pain in his big, brown eyes kept reflecting through my head. Was I putting him through that still? It had been half a year.

I mean, when Paul left to get on the plane, he kissed my cheek and gave me a half hug before running over to be with Ringo. John just kissed me, and we’re not even together!

I stomped out of the door just in time to see the plane taking off. It was speeding down the runway, and finally drifted off into mid air before ascending upwards. Suddenly, a slight vision popped into my head. It was the plane bumping, and then crashing hard to the grown, exploding into tiny pieces, 4 thousand girls screaming.

If that happened, what would happen? The press would have a field day. Kids would be going into depression all around the world, just like when Buddy Holly died.

I wouldn’t be alive for more then a couple hours after that. I couldn’t live with myself.

I shook my head sharply and opened my eyes, watching the large gray machine rise into the clouds. I stayed there until it disappeared, then I slowly started walking towards the bus stop, my head hanging low.

*John’s point of view*

I had my eyes closed tightly and was breathing deeply, pretending to be afraid of heights. Ringo was the only sensible one who noticed anything suspicious.

“Oi, Johnny. When we flew to Hamburg, you were fine.”

His low voice echoed through my mind still… maybe because he was in the seat behind me blabbing away to Paul and Mal about his appendix and what not.

Sitting directly behind me though, was the person I least wanted to see. If he knew, he’d kill me, but if he didn’t know, I’d kill myself. What was the point? She doesn’t love you, John. Get the fuck over yourself already.

I opened my eyes slowly and looked around. Brian was sitting next to Neil and George, discussing our time schedule. Everything seemed quiet. I slowly ate my sandwich, then got up and threw away the wrapper. I was still a little clumsy. I tripped and stumbled a bit, Mal grabbing me around the waste before I fell all the way on my face.

“Ay! Watch yourself, Lennon!” Paul laughed, his face cheery with a mixture of my fall and the story of the manager of the Arsenal football team writing Ringo a strange letter while in hospital. I bit my lip.

“Yeah, sure to, yeah, cool.” I blurted, not being able to make sense. They all cocked their heads at me, and I froze.

I smiled crookedly, probably looking like someone just groped me, and ran into the bathroom, locking the door.

I didn’t know what else to do. I sat in a corner next to the sink and the wall, and pressed my face against my knees, and cried. My eyes were squeezed shut as I sobbed. I didn’t want to know if we were crashing. Maybe if we were lucky.

*Ringo’s point of view.*

“’Scuze me, I have to go to the lu.” I muttered, standing up slowly and stretching my arms.

“Alright Ringo? Not plane sick like John?” George said, glancing over.

“Nah, just on a full tank.” I winked at him, and he laughed, turning back to Neil.

I nodded at Paul and Mal, then walked over to the small bathroom compartment, noticing the vacancy thing was red.

I knocked.

No answer.

I knocked again.

Nothing.

“John?” I asked, pressing my face against it, “C’mon, John. I know you’re in there. C’mon, I need to use the lu.”

“Go away.” He muttered, his voice was small and crunchy, like something was wrong. He usually only sounded like this right after he wakes up, like if you force wake him up with a pillow, or a vat of water.

“Is everything alright?” I waited for a response, but none came.

“Just let me in.”

I heard the door click, and I waited a moment before opening the small latch and entering. John was curled in a corner, his mouth pressed against his knees, his cheeks red and puffy, and he was staring into space. He looked miserable.

“What’s wrong?” I sighed, crossing my arms. He shook his head.

“You… You’d tell Paul.”

“No, not if you didn’t want me to.”

“I don’t.”

“Okay, I won’t, so tell me.”

He sighed deeply as I sat down on the small rug in front of him, crossing my legs and resting my elbows on them, and my head on my hands.

“I… I did something I shouldn’t have.”

“What?”

“I… I kissed Anna.”

My eyes grew, but I kept calm.

“Ah.”

“Yeah… and I feel like shit because…”

“Yeah?”

“I’m in love with her, Rings. In love. I’ve never been in love before either… never. She’s so beautiful, and so special, and I just want to be with her all the time. I don’t think Paul sees how beautiful she is. Inside, at least. I was afraid he just snagged her because she’s beautiful on the outside. I love her, god damnit! And I hate myself for it. I want to die.”

My heart lurched just at those words, and I got chills. He just looked back down to the ground, and started crying into his knees. He was shaking with the pained sobs ripping out of his chest, and it just broke my heart. I couldn’t stand seeing my best friend like this. It physically hurt me.

“John…” I mumbled, leaning over him and hugging him tightly. He just continued crying on my shoulder. I patted his back, and shushed him.

Paul was going to kill him.