Chapter Text
1964, JFK airport, United States of America
The scent of the air that morning was one you’d never forget. Airplane fumes were streaking through your nose. Sweat and minty breath crowded your senses. There was almost no clear air to exhale. Cars were honking everywhere, lined up all over the street, begging to get past the stalled traffic. The crowd – oh, who could forget the sight of the crowd? It was a cold, wintry day, but the size of the crowd and the overpacking was just enough to keep you warm. You were all compressed in the airport like sardines, naturally warming each other up.
You pulled up your pink headband and scanned over the sight.
"HOLY SHIT! How many of us are here?" You asked yourself.
While you couldn’t make out its size, you estimated that the crowd was in the ballpark of thousands. Earlier today, you’d seen that everyone had made themselves all perked up – their hair placed in their best rollers the night before, they chose the prettiest dresses for themselves, the most expensive coats, and the fanciest boots. Short dresses and hair in curls were the latest fashions. Many of them were far too young to put on makeup, but they had snuck into their mom’s makeup bags and put it on regardless. If there was any moment to do that, it was this. However, the once pretty and made up faces you saw earlier were now tear-streaked, with mascara running down their faces. Each girl had a face that was consumed entirely by emotion, so much so that nothing else was printed on their face.
You stared at these girls in admiration. You remembered those days when you did the same for Elvis, and you could recognize that rite of passage in them by looking at their smeared eyeshadow – either smeared by themselves through application, or whilst drowning in their own tears. You’d always been like this. Every time you got into something, you were devastatingly consumed by it – it was all that could consume your waking thoughts and hours. At times, you felt alone. You felt like your obsessions were too much, and you felt like other people didn’t quite understand you at times. But you weren’t alone, there were thousands of you – all being held in a line by exasperated policemen, shouting “STAY BEHIND THE LINE!” The points in which you’d felt like you had constantly missed a beat, or felt like you weren’t like the others your age– gone, for now.
Across the sight of your vision, you saw four men in moptop haircuts followed by several bodyguards walk down the stairs of an airplane to its landing ground. You saw as they smiled and waved, the wind grasping their hair as they were aghast for words, amongst seeing the crowd. You saw the creases of their lips curl into smiles as they addressed the crowd, which gave you a little tickle in your stomach. You locked eyes with John, the taller one with the almond eyes and reddish brown hair. It seemed like everyone else had faded away at that point, and it was just the two of you. While the other men were staring at the crowd, you two were sharing a moment that seemed to go on for almost forever.
Your obsessions normally weren’t like this. Even though you couldn’t articulate it, you knew right in the moment, somewhere deep in your stomach, that this was very different. However, the wind unexpectedly knocked you off your feet with this one. Usually, you were just merely fascinated at the subject. Your mind collected datasets and tables of fun facts, of course you would get excited when seeing him in person for the first time.
You were hoping, praying that he would come and talk to you personally. So many questions that you could ask him! The thought permeated and lingered in your mind like the scent of a candle after it had been lit. Only, this wasn’t your unique fire. You were amongst the thousands of teenage girls and young women who had the same desires and dreams as you. You knew it was unlikely that he would do anything for you. Maybe the glance was just a stare at the general crowd. Why in the world would he choose you? He’s a Beatle, after all. And you were just a girl. As each Beatle waved hello to the crowd, you stood and stared in amazement. You couldn’t believe your eyes, nor could you believe that John, specifically, was staring at you. You had their faces up in posters in your room, they stared at you nightly as you went to sleep – not in a creepy way, but enough to create a parasocial relationship. Your prized possession of Meet The Beatles had their faces on it, too, only you kept them in absolute mint condition. However, this was different. Here, you were seeing their faces, their subtle imperfections in real time. No longer were you staring at a picture, you were staring at real people amongst thousands of others who were doing the same. And you even locked eyes with one of them.