i believe in yesterday ☽ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲-𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

as he slipped his shoes on, he thought of molly.

she hadn't called yet. she said she would.

of course, that was before he told her he knew she liked him. he wiped his nose from crying for hours on end. he didn't even know why, either.

when he cried, it felt pointless. life felt pointless. the band wasn't exactly going anywhere but drunken clubs from eleven pm to one or two am.

his girlfriend seemed distant. he'd lost one of his best friends. his other friends all seemed to be interested in girls and music. that was about it.

every single night was the same. wake up, breakfast with the little money they had, mess around until seven or eight, perform until their fingers bled, get in a few birds' knickers and repeat.

it was fun the first couple of weeks, but then it just got tedious. "ey, john, y'alright?" paul called from the corner of the room. "it's nearly seven, almost showtime," he said.

"yeah, i'll be there in a minute..." john quickly wiped away some more tears and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

"are you... are you crying?" paul came closer to the couch and saw him sitting there, tears brimming his bloodshot eyes.

john shook his head and sat back. "no," he said quickly. "i'm fine."

paul furrowed his eyebrows and sighed. "it's okay to cry, john," he reassured him.

"i'm not bloody crying," john spat. he looked up to the ceiling so more tears wouldn't spill. his nose was reddened from all the wiping. "if i were crying, you'd fucking know!"

"john..." paul said in a concerned tone. "is it molly?"

he didn't reply. he only sat there and stared at the ceiling.

"i think pete, stu and i are the only ones molly isn't mad at," paul joked. he looked behind him, and all the boys were getting ready to go on stage. "i can try and talk to molly for you,"

once again, john didn't reply.

"listen, man," paul started. john finally looked at him with sad eyes. "molly is only mad at you for lying to her. if you'd have told her earlier, we wouldn't be here, would we?"

paul was right and john knew it.

"if you somehow manage to apologize to her—really, really apologize to her," paul gloomily spoke. "she'll understand. i know molly. i dated her for a while. she'll get it, trust me."

john opened his mouth to speak after a few seconds of silence but was wistfully interrupted by stuart. he sprung onto him with his guitar wrapped around himself.

"john! let's get onto the stage, now!" he shouted.

paul widened his eyes and shook his head warningly, but john complied. "get off me, 'ya wanker!" he yelled playfully. the two of them leapt up, stuart smiling idiotically. "we've got a show to do!"

"george! get back here!" paul called. it was time for their signature move. george came trudging backstage with pete.

"where we goin', fellas?" john bellowed.

they all smiled at him. "to the top, johnny!" the band simultaneously answered.

"where's that, fellas?" john beamed.

"to the toppermost of the poppermost!"

"that's right!"

with that, the band followed the john onto the stage and continued to play the same songs they'd played for the past weeks with wariness. why did john's mood suddenly shift without warning?