Work Text:
A CONVERSATION WITHOUT WORDS
Paul: Johnny, I’m so bored.I’m so tired of all these photographers and reporters. Fame is a box and we can’t get out of it.
John: It's everything we wanted, though, inn'it? But yeah, it'd be best if only we could just play and travel and play some more, without all of this endless, boring media work. Who knew journalists were so uninteresting?
Paul: Aye or so stupidly incurious? I mean one of them asked Ritchie how often he washes his hair. Couldn't believe it. Thought poor Ringo was going to go all Dingle on him, but you know, he just rolled his eyes and smiled.
John: Can you imagine getting a chance to interview the biggest story in the world, which is us at the moment, and the best question you can think of is about hair washing?
Paul: I just want to get out of here. Stretch my legs, walk in the rain. I wish we could just go for a walk, or go to a park. Times like this I miss old Liddypool, and St. Peter's churchyard.
John: Talkin' and smokin' around the graves, yeah...
Paul: Talkin' and smokin' and snoggin'...even in the rain.
John: Like we did in Paris. [Sighs] Lovely simpler days, weren't they?
Paul: I wish they'd go, these tossers. I wish Brian would get rid of them. I just want to watch a bit of telly and you know...snuggle and stuff.
John: And 'stuff'?
Paul: Yeah...stuff. I just want to hold your hand, Johnny, you know? Feel a little bit normal and grounded. And safe.
John: [Frowning in concern] Safe? Unusual word out of you, love. You alright?
Paul: [Looking directly at John] You don't have a corner on moods and feelings, you know. I have needs, too.
John: You have feelings and needs? No, Paulie, don't. You're my strongman. You're the rock-steady one.
Paul: [Shaking his head] Well, I'm feeling rocky right now. I need to feel your hand in mine. That would steady me.
John: Because when I touch you, you feel happy inside?
Paul: [Chuckling] I can’t hide.
John: Nor I, Doll. But I know what you mean. It would be nice to just be normal, and do normal things that normal people do.
Paul: [Smiling] Yeah...like our last night in Paris, again. I miss Paris.
John: So do I. That sweetest of kisses on the bridge.
[They both sigh deeply]
John: And I do want to hold your hand, you know.
Paul: [Smiles. Crosses his legs. Sighs again and looks at the media people all around.] I'd be happy with just that, Johnny. Really.
John: {Spies Paul's wrist.] You’re wearing my bracelet.
Paul: I always do.
John: I know, and I love that you always do.
Paul: Because you gave it to me...
John: Because I fell…
Paul: I know you did…
John: Good-n-hard, I fell, too.
Paul: I can think of a place we can fall right here in this room, if only we were alone.
John: Oh, so not just hand-holding, now? You've progressed?
Paul: I'm a very surprising and progressive person. I could progress all over you, top-to-toe, love, if only we were alone.
John: You’re so dirty.
Paul: I am. Growing filthier by the minute.
John: I totally love you, you know.
Paul, smiles and stretches and waits. At some point, the reporters and photographers would leave, and they might have some privacy, some room to breathe together, he and John. Until then, Paul settles himself as best he can. He stretches his arms and locks his hands, his fingers lacing together lightly. As though he were holding John's hand in his own.