"Come on, you daft sod, play it right!" John exclaimed, laughing as he hit his hand against his guitar strings, whilst Stuart - the daft sod in question - merely rolled his eyes. "What are you, some kind of amateur?"

"Well you taught me how to play so maybe it's your fault," he shrugged, adjusting the bass strap on his shoulder.

Robin bit her lip, desperately holding back a laugh as she sat off in the corner of Paul's back room, watching as Stuart's comment hit John, who brushed it off by merely pulling a face. The rest of the band ignored them, all but Paul who rolled his eyes, and Robin couldn't help but wonder if he was jealous of John and Stuart's friendship. Not that it was really any of her concern considering she didn't really know him well enough to make that judgement, instead trying to focus on the sketchbook propped up on her knees.

She'd given up trying to work on her coursework at the very start of the band rehearsal. She knew it would be a bad idea trying to work whilst all the lads were messing about around her, not to mention there wasn't nearly enough room for her to spread out and work how she usually did, though she'd gone along with John's plan from the night before just because it felt good to feel included, to know someone wanted her presence. The latter feeling was extended when they arrived at Paul's house and the rest of the band were glad to see her. The feeling of being wanted almost made up for the lack of concentration; almost. Feeling guilty that the band were all rehearsing and she was just sat in the corner of the room not really doing anything, Robin had begun to sketch for fun, finding the lads great references as they played their instruments.

She'd started by sketching George. His teddy boy quiff had been fun to draw, all the shading and layers, and as she worked on his facial features she found his angular face, fang-like teeth and serious expression such an interesting test of her skills. She'd hate for George to know she'd been drawing him, worried he'd think it odd behaviour from someone who was still just a stranger, so she kept her book propped up, hiding it from the band's view.

About halfway through their rehearsal John's cousin Connie let herself in, silently sitting next to Robin in the corner. Robin was glad for her presence, no longer the only girl in the room as well as the only one not playing music, even though she didn't speak to her. Connie, like Robin, immersed herself in her own work as she read a battered-looking copy of Little Women, thankfully not even glancing over at her sketch pad.

The two girls decided though that this banter signalled a break from practicing, and Connie got to her feet, stretching. Robin got up too, shuttling her sketchbook and setting it aside. The boys looked to the two girls, their miniature audience, as if looking for feedback, making Connie snort out a laugh.

"You were alright," she said with a shrug.

"We're not aiming to be alright, we're aiming to be the greatest," John said flatly. When none of the others chimed up in agreement he sighed, rolling his eyes before he muttered, "Forget it, I'm going for a smoke,"

"Me too," Robin said, fishing her cigarettes and lighter out of her satchel before she followed John.

John was clearly close to Paul, as he strutted into the kitchen as if it was his own, and out the back door as if he'd done it a hundred times before, and by the time Robin had caught up to him he was leaning against the fence, looking over the divide into next door's garden, a cigarette already between his lips as he lit it up. Robin went to get one out of her own packet, but John shook his head, getting one of his out.

"You said last night, I owe you," he explained casually, ignoring the way she smirked in amusement.

Trying to hide her surprise at him remembering one flippant little comment, she took the cigarette, holding it between her teeth. Before  she had the chance to light it with her own lighter though, John was leaning over to her. She tried to ignore how close he was, focusing on how he was clicking his lighter as he lit her cigarette. The moment it was lit she took a step back, not sure why she felt so weird being that close to him. She'd certainly been closer, the two of them squeezed together as they shared a desk at college, but there was something about how he learnt over her, so close she could feel the smoke off his own cigarette, his eyes searching her expression as if he was desperately willing her to look up and meet his gaze.

"Were you serious back then, is the band really what you wanna do?" She asked, deciding to make conversation to distract herself from her thoughts.

"May as well give it a good go," he shrugged, but she knew he was holding back.

"What's the point in art college then?" She asked, trying to push gently for more details.

"It's the only other thing I'm alright enough at to do, plus it keeps Mimi quiet so she's not always pestering me about throwing my life away with the guitar," John said with a shrug, though Robin noted the hint of sadness and annoyance in his voice.

"Aren't you still seventeen, how are you throwing your life away?" Robin laughed bitterly, struggling not to see the resemblance between Mimi and her own mother.

"Eighteen next week actually," he corrected her quickly, blowing out a cloud of smoke as if to demonstrate his maturity, wanting to seem older than he was.

"You know I'm surprised my Mum and your Aunt haven't become friends," Robin said, turning the topic back onto art college. "Considering how much my Mum hates me studying art. She wanted me to study something a little more employable, or just skip higher education all together and settle as a housewife straight out of school. She said I should either get a good job or just marry someone right away so I never give myself chance to dream of a life I'd enjoy, cause that way I'd end up living a life of disappointment just like her,"

"Bit harsh," John said, taking another drag of his cigarette as he struggled to meet her gaze as she stared down at the ground, a bitter smirk on her face and a sad look in her eyes.

He knew relatively nothing about his new neighbours. He knew Albert pretty well, but he knew nothing of Robin's mother, and all he knew of Robin - other than how beautiful she was, how talented at art she was, and the vague details she'd told him about her life before Liverpool - was that she was a relatively closed book. She wasn't the sort of person who wanted to gush about herself all the time, keeping her cards close to her chest until she cared to show them, something that John both admired and was irritated by. It was annoying to like her so much yet know very little about her, her walls too high to get past easily. He knew he was lucky to get the information out of her that he did last night, and her talking to him as openly as this was a surprise.

What she was telling him though wasn't painting her mother in the best light. John hadn't met her yet, he'd seen her leave the house early in the mornings and come back late at night but that was about it. He'd not met her, yet he already found himself disliking her simply because of not just what Robin was saying, but how she said it. The words had been brutal enough, but Robin's flat tone seemed to tell him that she was more than used to such treatment. It didn't seem fair to him, no one deserved to be told they shouldn't dream of a better life, no one should have dreams crushed out of them before they even had the chance to properly dream. He'd been told plenty that he was daft or stupid for wanting nothing more than to play the guitar, and it had given him a thick skin and a bitterly sarcastic attitude towards anyone who dared question his personal ideals, so to think that Robin had been through something similar felt a little painful. It didn't feel right to him that someone could be so rude to her, but it at least explained why she could get so defensive sometimes; she had to stand up for herself and her thoughts because she usually had no choice.

"Is that what you wanna do though, be an artist?" he asked, wondering if he could get more details out of her, watching her as she stared straight ahead, cigarette perched lazily between her lips.

"I guess, I dunno what I want to do," she told him honestly, taking one last drag before she stubbed her cigarette out. "I never really thought about it, maybe me Mum's got a point,"

"Like hell has she!" he exclaimed angrily before he could stop himself. His tone took Robin by surprise, who looked at him with narrowed eyes and raised eyebrows, folding her arms across her chest. "Trust me, Roberta, I don't think you could ever live a life of disappointment,"

"Oh yeah, and you're sure of that?" she laughed, shaking her head at him as he stubbed out his own cigarette.

"If me band's gonna be the greatest then so are you," he said, as if it was the truth and that was going to be their lives; famous musician and successful artist. "Come on, we better go back in,"

Meanwhile, what neither John or Robin was aware of whilst they were having this heart-to-heart was that they were being watched. Through the window in Paul's back room, the rest of the group were sneaking glances at them through the curtains, trying desperately to be subtle. Thankfully neither of them turned around, otherwise they'd have seen Paul watching them intently, George and Connie stood behind him- less eager but equally interested - and Stuart, occasionally glancing out of protectiveness for Robin. Pete stayed behind his small drumkit, clearly not as invested in the newcomer as the rest of them.

"So, what do we think?" Paul asked, turning round and looking at the others.

"I think there's no need to make a spectacle out of her for no reason," Stuart muttered, turning away from the window as he rolled his eyes at Paul. "She's just mine and John's college mate, there's no need to make it out to be anything exciting,"

"So you didn't notice the way John was trying to look for her in the audience last night then? He never usually squints like that, he looked proper blind," Connie pointed out, snorting a laugh over her cousin as she also stepped away from the window, sitting back down in the corner with her book. "Whatever though, I like her, she's nice,"

"If Con likes her I do too," George said quietly as he looked down at his guitar, not looking up until he heard a quiet laugh from Paul. "What? Con's a good judge of character, she must be good if she approves,"

"Yeah, she's not the only Lennon to approve either," Paul muttered knowingly, remembering the day at John's college and how he'd looked at her when she walked in the room.

"I like her," Pete said, and the whole group turned to look at him with a frown, mostly because he never spoke up in casual discussions. "I mean other than being a bit chubby she's nice looking,"

"Fuck off Pete if all you have to say is about her appearance," Connie said through a clenched jaw, ever the feminist as she jumped to Robin's defence.

"You ever thought about just keeping your mouth shut and not being so fucking rude about someone you've just met?" Stuart glared, and none of them had ever seen him get so wound up so quickly.

Pete looked as if he was about to say something back, and none of them knew if he was going to redeem himself or dig himself into a deeper whole. He'd not meant to offend, he thought he was just stating the obvious. In reality she wasn't fat, more curvaceous, but compared to the other girls they knew she was big. It was something none of them had really noticed, not bothered about her appearance over her personality, and that was probably why it looked as though both Connie and Stuart wanted to punch him.

Before he got chance to speak though John and Robin re-entered the room, both of them holding a mug of tea, John's glasses steamed up dramatically, and he quickly shut up. The two of them looked around the room, realising they'd walked in on something as John raisd his eyebrows with a short laugh.

"See you helped yourselves to the kettle then," Paul said quickly before either of them got the chance to ask what was occurring. Robin looked down at the mug and then to Paul apologetically, making him laugh. "It's fine, Robin, don't worry about it,"

She smiled thankfully before going back to her corner, sitting back down with her sketchbook. She'd noticed the bad vibes in the room, everyone looking confrontationally at Pete until the two of them walked in, when everyone suddenly looked like deer in headlights, but she'd decided to just ignore it. She distracted herself, sipping her tea and opening the sketchbook back up, but John had also noticed, and he was looking questioningly at Stuart, who just shook his head.

"Right, we doing this then?" John muttered, taking another swig of his tea before he handed the mug to Connie as he picked his guitar up again.

***

"No, John," Robin shook her head with another laugh, glancing out of the bus window. "I can't say I've ever thought Brigitte Bardot was hot,"

"Seriously, never?" he exclaimed, cackling his own laugh. "Well, she is,"

"Honestly, never noticed," she shrugged, before she flashed him a small smirk. "I always preferred Debbie Reynolds,"

"That's more like it!" he laughed before looking at her with one cocked eyebrow. "Really though, the American bird in a raincoat?"

"Singing in the Rain is a masterpiece, thank you very much," she rolled her eyes, making John cackle again.

Neither of them were sure how the conversation had gotten onto that topic, but that was probably the best part of it. It felt strange to Robin that she could just talk so openly with John about her interests, but it felt right too, and she realised she'd never really felt that comfortable with anyone before. Having a friend was surprisingly nice.

Even if she'd not done any work for her coursework it felt good to have hung out with people. As they'd all parted ways and she and John had gone for the bus she couldn't help but smile, the expression feeling alien on her face after so long drowning in her grief. It was almost like she was finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, but that felt too surreal, to bizarre to consider that she was finally getting over the worst of the pain of losing her father and having to leave her home. She knew the pain would never be gone completely, but it was a relief to know she now had something to distract her, that something being friends, for once.

"So you're going to Stuart's tomorrow?" John confirmed, making her nod. "He's got a nice place, right near college and the pub, d'you wanna get the bus together again?"

"Nah, you're alright, my Uncle's off work so I'll see if he can give me a lift and I'll meet you there," Robin shook her head, though before she could say anything else her attention was moved from John to the front of the bus, where three lads around their age were getting on.

They were all dressed liked mods, their hair combed back and each of them wearing long overcoats over their expensive looking suits.  Robin had never seen them before, but John obviously knew them as he grunted in annoyance, rolling his eyes. Robin and John were the only other people on the bottom deck so of course they noticed them, and John's irritation was matched by their mocking grins and short laughs as they headed straight to the back row where the two of them were spread out.

"Alright, Lennon, long time no see," the first one sneered, and John immediately sat up straighter in his seat, putting a protective hand on his guitar case as he stared the three lads down.

"Fuck off, Greg," John nodded his head in the direction of the stairs to the top deck, though his curse merely amused the three as they laughed.

"Who's this then, Johnny boy? You finally got yourself a bird?" another one of them chimed up, his gaze not leaving Robin. "Thought you weren't the sort of lad who stuck to just one girl? Especially not one this... good looking,"

That was when she realised all three of them were staring at her, looking her up and down, and when their gazes all settled on her chest area she sighed as she pulled her jacket around her closer, trying to cover up more. It wasn't like that sort of thing hadn't happened before, but it was the first time in a long time, and it was the first time it had happened in front of someone else.

"Again, fuck off, Danny," John answered on her behalf, and though she knew she could hold her own she was glad he was there. "She's not my bird,"

"Fair enough, I didn't think the great John Lennon went after big birds," the third one sneered, and Robin let out a laugh as she folded her arms across her chest. "Even if you are fat you're still pretty neat looking. What's your name, love?"

"Well my name's not love, that's for sure," she muttered before forcing a fake-smile. "I'm Robin, but you can keep calling me 'big bird' if you want,"

The three lads laughed at her, which was fine by her. She'd been in situations like that before, she was well aware her bigger-build and curvy figure was a source of both amusement and lust for men. She was irritated that it was happening, but also understanding that it was sadly inevitable.

"Alright then, Robin," the first one, Greg, laughed as he winked at her, making her cringe before he shot a look towards John. "Surely you're not thick enough to hang out with this prick? Why don't you come sit with us upstairs? We'd show you a good time,"

Robin rolled her eyes, but she didn't get chance to say no before John reacted. She might have accepted the inevitable, but John, however, wasn't understanding at all. Any sort of unknown previous grudge he had with these lads seemed to flare up except much worse than simply swearing at them. She watched him shoot up from his seat with his fists clenched, his expression fixed in a glare. She remembered the first time she met him and he snapped at her for teasing him, and how she thought he was vulnerable with a short temper. That little flicker of annoyance back then was nothing compared to how he was facing up to the three lads. She thought he was protective over his guitar by just placing his hand on it's case, but for some reason he was seeing red and suddenly defensive over her.

"Don't you fucking think about talking to her like that, or even looking at her, alright?" he snarled, though that only seemed to encourage them as they all stepped forward confrontationally. "Stay away from her,"

Robin felt like she could see his temper rising, his face reddening in fury, and though she had no idea why she felt like she could see it all going wrong before her eyes. Looking for a way out, she shot a glance out the window and realised that they were near a stop. She stood up herself, hitting the bell and throwing her sketchbook under one arm, grabbing his guitar with the same hand as she got hold of John's arm, pulling him harshly.

"John," she called simply, hoping her tone was firm enough to get his attention and get him to stop glaring at the lads.

Thankfully it was enough, as he looked over at her, aggression still on his face until he snapped out of it, realising she was looking at him, willing him to stand down. He didn't have the chance though, as she instead shoved past the three lads, making them roar with laughter as she pulled John along with her. She didn't let go of his arm until they were off the bus, which was a relief considering he was looking round at them the whole time until they were on the path and the bus was driving off.

"Why the hell... Jesus, Robin!" John exclaimed, clearly lost for words as he looked around where they were stood. "We're a fifteen minute walk away from home! What you playing at?"

"I'm playing at getting us off that bus so those lads don't smack you!" She snapped back at him, practically throwing the guitar into his chest as she began walking down the street.

"You seriously think I couldn't handle those pricks?" John exclaimed angrily as he stormed off after her.

"You seriously think I couldn't handle them?" she shouted back, letting out a laugh of disbelief as she moved to hug her sketchbook to her chest, trying to cover her chest a bit more, regretting her choice of shoulderless shirt. "Why couldn't you just let me deal with it? I know you clearly know them but if you'd have just let me deal-"

"Why the fuck wouldn't I say something? I'm not gonna just sit there and let them talk about you like that or look at you like that or call you names," he interupted angrily, and she wasn't sure if he was still angry about what had happened or if he was now angry at her.

In truth he'd acted on instinct. He'd hated those lads ever since they were all in school together, but seeing the way they looked at Robin set him off worse than he had been in a long time. He was protective over all of his friends, but Robin was different, she was special, and the occasional and strange feelings of desire he felt towards her seemed to just make it worse. Hearing them talk about her or even just look at her infuriated him. How dare any of them treat her like that? She deserved better, and he was angry she'd pulled him away before he got the chance to express that to them.

For some reason though Robin wasn't seeing it the way he was. He couldn't understand why she would be annoyed at him for standing up for her, but she clearly was, and that was making him more irritated.

"John, it happened all the time at home!" she exclaimed frustratedly, hoping he'd drop it. "You don't need to jump to my defence, it's not like you're my boyfriend or anything,"

"Fine then, I'll leave it to you next time," he practically snarled, rolling his eyes before he stormed off in front of her.

With his anger, Robin couldn't be bothered to rush after him, instead deciding to walk the rest of the way home alone.

***

Word count: 3966

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