The room reeks of cigarettes and alcohol.

John's voice is much too loud, laughing at some inside joke they'd all shared five minutes before and slurring his words around the guitar hanging low against his side.

Guest sees it.

He's on the side of the room, hands laced together, watching but not gawking, not really anything. Quiet as usual. Except this time it's a distant, hollow kind of quiet.

Eventually John's gaze flicks over. Their eyes meet and a smile blooms on John's face. It wilts when Guest’s doesn't return and his gaze drops to the floor. The first thing John notices.

John meanders over a few minutes later, his knee nudging Guest to get his attention. "hey, why are you sitting way over there?"

Guest just shrugs. "I'm fine."

John leans in and kisses Guest on the lips, as usual.

Guest turns his head just enough to keep the kiss from landing properly.

John falters. "what was that for?"

"nothing." Guest says quickly. Too quickly.

Across the room, Paul McCartney is trying to pull John back into whatever conversation they were having.

John's gaze doesn't move. "...what’s up with you?”

"nothing." he lies. John hears it. But it's just as easy to be pulled back into their group.

The music starts again, a half-joke of a song. Someone laughs, someone messes up, someone yells a comment across the room.

Guest stays there, quietly watching.

Eventually Paul says something casual to Guest, about the song, a lyric or chord progression, trying to involve him.

Guest answers. Short, polite. But he does answer.

And John sees that. Sees Guest talk to Paul, not him.

His playing instantly sharpens. And gets louder.

"can we actually focus?" John blurts out.

The room stills a fraction. No one actually did anything.

Paul frowns a little. "we are-"

"well, it doesn't sound like it." John cuts in again.

That edge. It isn't about the music.

A few minutes later, John sets his guitar down with more force than necessary and walks over to Guest’s side.

"what's your problem?"

Guest’s head snaps up, surprised at the sudden bite in his tone. "i don't have one."

"yeah you do. You've been quiet all night." John says.

"i said i'm fine." Guest repeats.

John exhales a short burst of air. "then why aren't you talking to me?"

There it is. Guest hesitates. Just for a beat.

"...i don't want to talk to you right now." he says finally.

It lands heavier than it probably should.

John's face hardens immediately. "what's that supposed to mean?"

"i just-"

"no, spit it out."

Guest’s shoulders tense, he can feel the eyes of the room on him now. " i don't want to do this here."

John scoffs, taking a step back. "of course you don't."

his voice is sharp again, not quite a shout, but loud enough to be raised.

Guest’s head bows a little, and John sees that too, and instead of it soothing him, it just twists something inside John.

"fine." John mutters, turning away. " don't talk to me then."