Come To Your Senses ~ John&Paul (Slash)
This is Beatle John/Paul Slash. It's rough, confusing, complicated and beautiful. It's just how I interpret a relationship and its struggles, it does not prove that John and Paul were really gay or in love (though I could die a happy person if they had come out about it!) but you can believe it too if you want to. Just enjoy and ignore the fact that it's made up. It starts in '61 and you can guess the end.
I needed to be home where I could write my songs and laugh with my mates. I needed time to grow again.
The way I saw it, not only was life a bloody wreck right now, but it was stitching itself back together.
"I'm going to an art show." I tell Cyn over tea one day.
She nods. "Good."
"Would you like to come?" I ask because I know it's polite.
"No, but maybe your son would." She's been short with me all week.
It's not like I'm not trying. I love the little bugger, but I'm never around. Who can blame me, after all? I'm a Beatle! I guess it's kind of miserable how I wanted to teach Jules that I was here for him like my father never had been when I was turned into my father by nature.
Yet again, it's not like it was my fault.
I grabbed my guitar case, kissed Cyn's cheek and hugged Julian on my way out the door.
Who needs them anyways? I've got Paul. Sort of.
We have Paul, together we do, but separately, it's not so much as working out anymore. It's kind of falling apart, but so minimally that I just started realizing it recently.
I tell myself I don't care that much because I really don't. Everyone needs space, that's what I've been saying, and he deserves it.
We've been cooped up in the stuffy studio so long recently that we're all at each others throats, but when it comes down to it there's no one I'd rather be stuck with.
I'm heading to work with the track, the last one we started before nearly strangling each other to a bloody pulp. I think it was Hello Goodbye, but it's Paul's song so I'm not really sure the name of it.
"Bloody hell." I hear it first and then wonder if it's in my mind. "'Scuse me, miss."
It's not in my head, it's really Paul. So I stop where I am, because I'm walking after having drank too much last night, and look around.
"There's got to be a mistake, I've put money in the meter, I was only gone a half hour." He says, but I still can't find him.
Maybe I should've worn my glasses.
"Sorry, sir- Your Paul McCartney." There's a female voice, a very pretty sounding one at that.
"Yes." Paul replies, but I'm not sure if he's aggravated or stoic. It's all pretty much been the same.
"Aye, I'm so sorry, but the meter was out when I got there." She's definitely apologetic.
"Is there anything you can do? I'm in a rush to get somewhere." He argues.
I wonder where he's going and finally spot his jacket.
She sighs, "I'll pay your fine, just scram Mr. McCartney."
"Lovely, thank you Ms..."
"Rita." I think at that moment it clicked for both of us.
In separate ways we'd both always had this sense where we knew what was good song material. This instance we both knew, just had different ideas.