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"Ten minutes!" someone shouted from backstage.
Paul didn't know exactly where to go or what to do. Every time this part of the concert was a kind of delirium. The anxiety before going on stage was palpable, and everyone felt it and experienced it in their own skin, especially on their nerves. A jolt of terror passed from the Beatles to the technicians, reaching Brian the most, who was always the most worried about how everything would go.
However, there was also a lot of adrenaline before each concert started; surely the Beatles felt it more than anyone else.
The ten minutes, before each show, were moments when the group was closer than ever. The four of them always huddled together, reminding each other of the chords and throwing out random phrases to encourage one another.
But today, Paul didn’t see any of his bandmates. He was near the stage alone, and none of the others were in sight. He was desperately trying to contain his anxiety, with very little success. He absolutely needed some of their usual encouraging words from the other band members.
He was still trembling with anxiety when he finally saw him: he was peeking toward the stage, in his always impeccable, stunning suit that made him shine under the spotlight, and with a shy smile that did nothing to hide his own anxiety.
John was standing there.
Paul immediately decided to approach him; he knew that John was the only one who would truly make him feel good, not just in that moment but always.
"Everything okay? You look like you've just seen the ghost of Christmas future," Paul said with a chuckle, startling John, who hadn't heard him coming.
It should also be added that the biggest source of anxiety was the fact that today was also Christmas! Or almost. There were still four days until Christmas, but for Paul, the colorful lights illuminating the back of the stage and the ornaments scattered everywhere made him feel like it was already the big day.
“Next time make some noise so I don’t get scared. I thought you were Brian,” John said, looking again at the audience through the small gap that was there. Paul didn’t know how much he could actually see since he was without his glasses.
“Brian?! Really?! Let’s hear it, what did you do this time?” Paul chuckled.
John dismissed the question while looking fearfully at the audience. "There are more people here today than usual," he said with a worried voice.
Paul immediately understood his fears and felt the same way. Today the audience was larger than ever before. He was certainly scared, but he also knew that they would still play great. They were the damn Beatles! They could do anything!
"I know, but I also know that we would still be amazing as always," Paul said, trying to reassure John.
And it seemed he succeeded because John turned towards him and looked at him with the same shy smile he had before, but this time that smile also seemed to have sweet and almost... loving nuances.
"Five minutes!" shouted the guy from before again while John continued to gently gaze at Paul's face.
"Well," John began hesitantly, and Paul couldn't understand how the great John Lennon could be hesitant. To Paul, John was the most confident person in the world, even though he had seen him cry and become discouraged countless times; however, all those moments had only shown him how human John was and not the supreme god that Paul had worshipped as a kid. But still, John had far more self-esteem than Paul, which is why he couldn't comprehend why John was nervous about asking something to Paul. "What do we do while we wait?" John asked, bringing Paul back from his thoughts.
“Um… honestly, I don't know,” said Paul as he looked around for inspiration to suggest something to John to distract him in the little time they had available.
But John already had a ready answer and immediately proposed it to Paul. “You know… I have an idea,” said John as he looked up.
Paul stared at John for a moment, not understanding what John was looking at, but as soon as he lifted his head a bit, his gaze fell on the most dreaded Christmas object of all.
Mistletoe.
Paul knew what that thing symbolized and what they were supposed to do under it: kiss each other.
It was just a silly tradition to have to kiss under that plant, which was the symbol of Christmas; at least, that's how he saw it. Perhaps this was because no one, not even John, had ever kissed him under the mistletoe; let's just say he felt a bit excluded from that tradition.
They stared at that thing for a few more seconds when finally John started speaking again, still looking up: "I really think it would look bad not to do what the mistletoe commands us to do. It could even bring bad luck," John said innocently, with a hint of cheekiness in his voice.
Paul then lowered his gaze and looked at John with a shocked face. They couldn't do it! There were others around them; the audience could see something from that small gap, even if those behind the stage couldn't see anything; and what if the press found out?! It would be the end for them.
He was still thinking about why this was a terrible idea when, at that moment, John looked down at Paul again and smiled in a completely brazen way.
And it was that very smile that made Paul forget everything else in the world.
He hesitantly approached John's lips and gently brushed against them in a slow way.
It was John who immediately grabbed his collar to pull him closer and deepen the kiss. Their mouths quickly opened to each other, and their tongues explored one another.
John's mouth was like a candy: sweet and delightful; one of those candies that you know will hurt you but you just can't stop eating. It was like a drug, something you couldn't live without after you’ve tried it; and John was exactly that for Paul: something he couldn't live without.
John tasted just like honey, Paul thought. And he almost tasted like… Christmas. Like sweet and colorful lights, like fragrant sweets enriched with candied fruits, and like the true love you feel on Christmas Day.
Their kiss became a little more intense, but it was still affectionate, just like all their kisses. Their tongues were exploring each other again, and their teeth rarely clashed, igniting even more passion in both of them.
Paul's hands, unsure of where to land, clung to John's strong arms; while John’s hands were one around his neck and the other in his hair now, caressing and tugging at Paul's smooth locks.
But when their mouths were becoming more exasperated, as they asked for more from each other, the voice counting down spoke again:
"One minute now! The Beatles get ready to step on the stage. I repeat: THE BEATLES GET READY TO STEP ON THE STAGE!"
John and Paul quickly pulled away and simultaneously looked into each other's eyes just as they had done some minutes before. They were breathing heavily, trying to catch their breath, and their hands remained exactly where they were before.
John was the first to speak after that: “Um… I hope the mistletoe has brought us luck for, um… the show,” he said with a wide smile that could light up the entire world. And that breathtaking smile was directed only at Paul; only he could have the privilege of that magnificent sight.
Paul smiled back. “I hope so,” he said, gathering the courage to say the next sentence, “We should do it again, don’t you think? If it really brings luck…” But he didn’t even finish speaking before John pulled away from him, jumped up, and grabbed the mistletoe above them. He immediately placed his hand back on Paul, taking one of Paul’s hands and holding it with his own, while with the other he showed to his beloved the tender plant.
“Here. So we can do it again later,” John said, winking. Paul believed him and knew that it would be a more beautiful Christmas if they kissed under the mistletoe all day long.
Smiling and unfortunately detaching from each other, they got onto the stage, while the mistletoe was safely tucked in John's pocket, ready for later.