Chapter Text
If there was one thing that John was one-hundred percent about in this world, I'd be that Paul was an absolute angel, a god-sent from heaven. The way the man could instantly brighten a room just with his pure presence still baffled John, despite all the years they spent together. Even with all their arguments and fights, Paul would surrender most of the time to keep the peace—which always made John feel like an absolute asshole in the end.
Anyways, he could never stay mad at Paul for too long.
John would never admit it, but he'd always had a crush on Paul, starting around back when they first met at the Garden Fete back in Woolton. Paul's presence had enraptured John, and once they finally became friends it was like something in the universe clicked into place.
They were practically inseparable, joined together at the hip from that day forward.
The current month was April, and things had been rather peaceful at EMI. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits and immersed in their new album they had been working on, Sgt Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band.
Paul was the one who came up with the concept for it, so he was practically bursting at the seam with ideas, presenting them all frantically to John who always listened with the same excitement, fleshing it out by adding in his own thoughts and ideas to create something that was beautiful.
Right now, Paul was in the studio conversing with George about Lovely Rita, which was the song they had all been currently working on.
He moved his hands expressively as a cigarette dangled in between his middle and index finger. George's face stayed neutral as he listened, nodding along to whatever it was that the man was saying.
John couldn't help but stare at Paul, leaning his cheek against the head of his guitar like a lovesick teenager.
"—And I was thinking for that part in the song you could play something that's like…" Paul trailed off, thinking to himself while he scratched his mustache in thought. John was listening in to their conversation, not having much else to do. Sure, he could come up with a cord or two, but he preferred having Paul next to him to listen to whatever his ideas were.
Paul said something else to George to which the man simply shrugged and played whatever it was that Paul asked for.
"Yes! See that's perfect." Paul smiled, ruffling George's hair playfully even if he complained in protest, slapping Paul's hand away.
Paul tapped off the ash that had begun accumulating on the tip of his cigarette and placed it back into his mouth, letting a cloud of smoke escape his lips.
John realized Paul was turning to walk over to him so almost immediately he straightened himself up and pretended as if he were just playing his guitar absentmindedly.
Paul stuck his hands into his pockets and grinned around his cigarette as soon as he made eye contact with John.
Even though John was now staring a hole through his guitar, in his peripteral vision he could see the shadow of Paul inch closer and closer until he was standing right in front him, arms crossed around his chest with an amused expression.
"And what have you been doing?" Paul asked with the raise of his brow. "Slacking off it seems." he made a tsking sound. The smile on his face showed he wasn't upset, just feeling playful.
"Oh, please forgive me Macca!" John pleaded, lacing his hands together as he batted his eyes at Paul who in return rolled his eyes. Paul gestured for John to make room for him on the love seat but John had already instinctively scooted over for him. With a sigh, Paul plopped down next to the man.
Almost immediately, an aura of nervousness clouded over Paul, and John could sense it. There was a frown on the man's face instead of the bright smile he was just carrying a second ago. He was staring into space, anxiously biting his lower lip deep in thought.
John placed a hand on Paul's shoulder.
"Everything alright?" he asked, scanning his eyes all over Paul's face.
Paul turned his attention towards John, running his fingers through his own hair. "It's just…agh," He wiped his hands along his face. "Me and Jane had an argument the other night and I think she's still mad at me."
John's mood soured at the mention of his girlfriend, Jane Asher. Sometimes he forgot that Paul had a girlfriend in the first place.
It was a waste of time in his opinion.
"What happened?"
Paul bit his lip. "Well, she's on her menses and you know how women get."
"Ah."
"Yeah."
It remind John of his last girlfriend, Cynthia who he broke up with they had the chance to get married, even with all the pressure from her family. He remembered when she would go on her period and at all the stuff that would happen to her during them.
"Maybe you should buy her chocolate or something, Cynthia loved it when I'd bring it for her." John suggested. A look of pity formed on Paul's face at the mention of her name even though John had gotten over it months ago.
"I will, maybe flowers too?"
"Can't go wrong with flowers, birds love 'em."
"Mhm."
A sort of awkward silence befell the two before Paul loudly fake-coughed.
"Anyways!" He nervously chuckled, clapping his hands together. "Let's keep working on Lovely Rita."
John stared at Paul for a second before replying with alright and setting down his guitar comfortably on his lap.
…
After a long day of playing and scribbling new ideas on paper, it was was ten PM and everyone was properly exhausted.
Paul had gotten into a better mood throughout the day, but now that he'd have to face Jane again, he became all nervous.
John watched Paul in in the corner of his eye. He wished he could take all his worry away. He absolutely hated seeing Paul upset, and the fact that his girlfriend put him in that mood in the first place is what frustrated him, even if it really wasn't her fault.
"John?" Paul spoke up, making the man jump in his seat.
"Yes, Paul?"
"Can you drive me home? I took the bus this morning."
John huffed.
"Yeah, yeah I can take you."
"You two leaving?" George asked, taking a bite out of his biscuit.
"Yeah, are you two staying?" Paul asked.
"Nah, m'not. Me poor fingers have blisters on them." Ringo complained, wincing as he rubbed his fingers back and forth across each other.
"I have to get back home to Pattie." George said.
Soon enough, everyone started packing up, grabbing whatever it was that they needed to bring home.
George and Ringo waved bye to John and Paul who waved back in return.
When the two finally left the building, Paul turned to John, hands in pockets.
"We ready to leave then?"
John nodded, grabbing his carton of cigarettes from out his pocket. He waved it over to Paul, offering one to him which he gladly took. John took the liberty of lighting their cigarettes, nodding towards his car once he was done.
Paul trailed behind John, blowing out smoke through the side of his mouth.
When the pair finally entered the car, there was that silence from earlier that loomed over them again. Adjusting the rearview mirror, John noticed Paul's eyebrows scrunch up in concentration as he stared out the window. He mindlessly scratched his mustache, subconsciously running his finger across the scar on his lip that he had gotten over a year ago.
Time and time again Paul had explained to John how he hated that scar and how the doctor did a terrible job of stitching it up. John would joke and say that he should've been careful and worn a helmet which always ended up with Paul telling him to shut up.
But John found it cute, he didn't care about the little imperfections Paul had. It's what made him unique to all the others.
"So…" John drawled out. "You ready?"
Paul snapped out of his trance, blinking a few times before returning back to a somber expression. "Yeah, I was thinking about stopping at the corner shop to buy Jane the chocolates and flowers I mentioned earlier."
John turned his gaze over to Paul who was already watching at him, waiting for a response.
"Yeah," John swallowed. It felt as if Paul's eyes were burning a hole through his. "We can go."
"Mm." Paul sighed, leaning against the car door, turning his attention back to the side window.
As the car began to move, Paul messed around with the stereo radio, trying to find a good song as he turned the tuning knob.
"Oh," Paul said suddenly, his hand freezing on the knob as a familiar song drifted through the speakers. "Jane loves this song."
John only hummed in response, listening as the music filled in the empty space between him and Paul.
After a moment or two, Paul spoke again, this time his voice barely above a whisper.
"I keep hearing it everywhere," he swallowed hard. "It reminds me of her."
John kept his eyes on the road, knowing that they were nearing their destination.
Without his reply, the silence stretched out.
Then came a quiet sniffle.
And another.
It took a few sniffles from Paul for John look over at the man.
He glanced long enough to catch the shine of tears in Paul's eyes. They were glassy and puffy, his nose red as he scrubbed at his face with the heel of his hand, clearly hoping John hadn't noticed.
"…Paul?"
Paul didn't answer.
His eyes stayed glued to the window instead, watching the passing scenery as if it required all his attention instead.
John waited.
Silence.
He cleared his throat.
"Is there something going on between you and Jane?" he suddenly asked.
Paul's jaw tightened.
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," John added carefully. "It's just… I've noticed you've been in a mood recently."
That earned Paul's attention.
"A mood?" he sniffled, finally turning his head over to face John.
"Well…yeah? You can't be this upset just cause she's on her menses, you're not that much of a sex addict, are you?"
Paul huffed out a quiet laugh at that.
"We've been having some troubles lately and it just doesn't seem to be getting better." Paul confessed, wiping away at the singular tear that trickled down his cheek.
John said nothing for a moment, just glancing over slightly at Paul before slowly stopping the car at their destination. Once the car wasn't moving anymore, John turned his full body towards Paul, having acquired all of his attention.
He opened his mouth to say something, but quickly closed it.
"Hm?"
"It's nothing," John pulled his keys out from the ignition. "I just wished she didn't stress you out as much as she does. You should be focusing on us and the band." he licked his lips, a faint sheen of saliva staying on the front hairs of his mustache.
Paul raised his eyebrows in confusion.
"Us as in—?
"As in you, me, George, and Ringo." John corrected himself. "Don't be daft." he mumbled, flustered.
That look of confusion still never left Paul's face.
"Yeah—but John, she's my girlfriend!" He laughed unbelievably. "A part of my world has to revolve around her, I can't be a bad boyfriend."
"Christ, is that the nonsense she's putting in your head?" John snapped, furrowing his eyebrows.
"No!"
John ran his eyes over both of Paul's who glared at him in mild frustration now.
"Listen, Paul. If you're asking me for advice—"
"M'not—"
"Well I'd say that you can find someone better, a nice girl who doesn't make you feel like shit all the time."
Paul turned his head over to face the window once more.
"Are we here?" he asked.
Avoiding the conversation.
John's tongue prodded the side of his cheek.
"Yeah," He grunted, opening his end of the door and hopping out. Paul followed behind.
The shabby corner shop's lights flickered in the dark, appearing a bit creepy, creepy enough that it gave John the chills.
"After you, princess." John chuckled, grinning at the pout Paul gave him before entering the shop.
Thankfully, there weren't many people in the shop aside from one or two people since it was late at night. The bell rang at the front of the store and the girl who had been dozing off throughout her shift suddenly jolted awake at the sight of John and Paul, mouth agape as she watched them make their way through the store.
The pair walked down the candy isle, Paul took his time searching through all the different kinds of sweets while John walked behind him, occasionally picking something up to read the amount of calories on the back then deciding to put it down.
"I'm going to wait for you in the car, alright?" John said to Paul who was crouched down on the floor, holding one chocolate bar in his left hand and another in his right.
"Oh," Paul whispered, blinking up at John then turning his attention back at the sweets. "Alright, I'll be out soon, then."
With a hum, John turned on his heel and began walking towards the front of the entrance until he spotted a small stand he hadn't noticed when he first walked in.
For some reason he felt oddly entranced by it, almost as if it were beckoning him to get a closer look. He walked over to the stand, adjusting his glasses to get a better look of what the sign on the stand said.
ONE WISH WILLOW: AMAZE YOUR FRIENDS!
He huffed out a laugh, picking up one of the slender boxes. In short, the instructions on the side of the one wish willow were pretty straightforward. All John would have to do is make a wish, break the stick or whatever it was that was inside and somehow it'd magically come true.
Obviously John didn't believe in it, thinking it most likely be a toy targeted for children to beg their parents to buy, only to get their hopes up in the end and not work at all. But John felt the knack to buy something and what better to buy than some stupid overpriced novelty?
As he made his way over towards the counter, the girl froze, staring wide-eyed at John who handed her the object..
"Will…will this be all for you J—sir?" she asked, taking the item from John's hand and blushing at the slight contact their hands made.
"That'll be all, luv." he weakly smiled, wanting to get the hell out of the store already.
She scanned his item with a confused smile.
"These have been incredibly popular, y'know." she said, handing the item back to John.
"Everyone wants to make a wish, don't they?"
"Yeah," she sighed. "But I've gotten a lot of complaints about it, people treat me as if I'm the one making them!"
"Complaints?" That piqued John's interest.
"Mhm."
"Why? Cause their wishes didn't work?" he laughed.
She gave him a smile in return.
"Yeah, or that they die or wish they were dead." she laughed, rolling her eyes in memory of the many occasions in which people have told her that.
John's laughter died down at that, getting hit with the sudden feeling of unease.
"Right…"
She gave him a flustered smile and told him to have a good night, to which he said so back.
…
Alone in the car, John patiently waited for Paul to come back.
After ten minutes, he finally exited out the store, bouquet and chocolates in hand.
"You know where she lives?" Paul asked.
"No?"
Those bunny-teeth John found endearing flashed up into a smile.
"Good, it was a test."
"Cor, Paul!" John gasped, pretending to look taken aback. "The fact you'd think I'd do something like that to me best mate!"
Paul giggled, punching him slightly hard in the shoulder.
"Well she lives over on…"
…
The ride to Jane's house was quiet, except for the music that was being played in the background. Paul hummed along to it, occasionally singing out a few of the words.
Paul turned his head over to John, who was focusing his attention out on the road.
"D'you reckon she'll like it?" he asked, glancing at the bouquet on his lap.
John glanced over at the bouquet, then onto the nervous look on Paul's face.
A beat passed.
"Well?" Paul prodded.
John sighed. "Does she like it when you turn up with flowers?"
Paul bit his lip.
"I never bought them for her before, actually." he admitted.
John snorted. "And tonight you've decided you're Romeo?"
"I just thought..." Paul rubbed a petal in between his fingers. "Thought it'd be nice." he mumbled. A frown took over his face which made John sigh.
"It is nice."
"You mean it?"
"Listen," John sighed once more. How many times was he going to have to reassure him?
"I'm sure she'll love them, McCharmly."
"I hope so." Paul gazed down at the flowers once more, smiling as traced an outline around it's petals. "I really want this to work, y'know."
"I know."
"I mean it."
"I know."
Paul stared out the window, watching as the trees flew past him and the streetlight streaking across the window.
"I just…" he whispered, barely audible. "I really do love her."
John's grip tightened almost imperceptibly on the steering wheel.
"I'd gathered."
"No, I mean really."
John nodded once.
"Right."
Paul giggled to himself, not being able to control his feelings now.
"I've never felt this giddy about a girl before, she's different."
John rolled his eyes at the statement.
"Honest!" Paul proclaimed, noticing John's not-so-discrete eye roll.
"She makes everything more exciting. We could be sitting around and doing nothing and it wouldn't feel like nothing, y'know what I mean?" he smiled. "I could spend hours just listening to her talk."
"Mhm."
Paul bit his lip, absentmindedly smoothing a leaf from one of the flowers.
"I just want her to know she's loved."
John swallowed.
"Course."
There's nothing John wanted more in this moment other than to slap his hand over Paul's mouth to get him to stop blabbering about his stupid girlfriend.
Paul kept going, oblivious to John's inner turmoil.
"And when she smiles at me..." he laughed under his breath. "God. It's embarrassing."
"What is?"
"I'd do just about anything to see her smile."
John felt something in his chest cave in at those words, as though Paul had pulled out a vital organ, causing for all the others to collapse without it. Only Paul knew how to make him feel that way. Only he knew how to make John feel the worst pain in his life yet the most happiness as well.
His love for Paul was something he tried to keep deep down in his soul, but in moments like these, he'd realize just how consumed by it he really was.
His Paul effortlessly loved.
It was probably why almost every single fucking song he wrote was about it.
Paul readily gave away the parts of himself that John so desperately craved. In the end, there was never any left for John, and there never would be, especially not with Jane in the picture.
He wished with an aching intensity, that Paul would stop talking. Every word that came out of Paul's mouth was a reminder that none of it was meant for him.
When they turned the corner to Jane's street, Paul pointed out the house.
"There," he said, pointing towards a house that had a gate surrounding it. "It's that one."
John followed the gesture, slowing the car before pulling neatly up to the curb. Once the car slowed down, he turned off the engine, leaving the two in silence again.
When John turned his head towards Paul to wish him goodbye, his words caught up in his throat.
God, Paul looked absolutely ethereal. The warm light from the streetlights shined perfectly on him, illuminating his dark hair, his mustache, the curvature on his lips, and the glean of saliva on his grin, showing those bunny-teeth John couldn't get enough of.
"What?" Paul laughed, noticing John stare at him.
John flustered, hesitating on his words.
"I—nothing." he smiled, trying to play it off cool.
Paul gave him a skeptical side eye and nodded along.
A beat of silence passed.
"John," he whispered, looking more serious now.
"Yes?"
"If there's something you want to say, you should say it to me now."
John's heart palpitated violently in his chest.
The car suddenly felt stuffy and uncomfortable, making John want to break open his window on his right and climb out of it just to escape this moment.
But Paul watched John expectantly, biting his lip in response to the silence.
John wanted so badly to tell Paul how he felt to get that burden off his back, and in hopes that he'd like him back. But he knew Paul wasn't queer and that was just he reality he couldn't face. Those moments where their hands brushed against each other, or their shared looks that they could communicate through more than words could played on loop in John's mind.
"Oh, Paul," John sighed. He didn't even know where to begin.
"It's okay, John. I know." Paul said.
They were both staring at each other now.
John didn't dare move.
Paul bit his lip and turned his gaze away.
"The flowers are too much, aren't they?" he sighed.
A moment of silence passed.
"What?" John' voiced cracked.
"Well I already bought them," Paul scratched his mustache. "They could be for Martha instead." he smiled at the thought of his precious sheepdog.
John stared at him.
"Right, the dog." he forced himself to laugh, the sound grating his own ears.
Paul smiled wider.
After a moment of staring at each other, Paul broke it by stepping out the car and walking towards the gate of his house.
John watched as he unlocked the gate before giving a wave goodbye to John, which he meekly reciprocated.
Alone in the darkness of the car, he rested his forehead on his wheel.
"Fuck, fuck!" He gritted his teeth. He almost exposed his true feelings to Paul, which would've gone terribly. It was foolish to think Paul would love him like that, in such a dirty way. Why couldn't Paul love him as much as he loved him? These sort of thoughts clouded his mind and made him grow more frustrated and hopeless as the seconds passed by.
With a defeated sigh, he dug around his pockets for his cigarette carton, instead finding the one wish willow box he'd bought earlier in the shop that he almost completely forgot about.
Picking up the box, he read over the instructions that were on the side again. They seemed pretty straightforward, all he had to do was make a wish and crack the stick in half.
John glanced back over to Paul's house, then back towards the object in his hand.
You only get one wish, make it count!
He should have this. He deserved this. He deserved to entertain the idea of Paul loving him, more than that woman, and more than anyone.
He sighed.
"I wish Paul McCartney loved me more than anything in the fucking world."
Crack!
Silence.
Nothing happened, it's what he expected honestly. He felt a bit silly honestly at the slimmer of hope in his chest once he broke the stick.
John carelessly tossed the broken object behind his feet and turned his keys in the car, making the engine come back to life.
One more glance wouldn't hurt.
John glanced back over to Paul's house.
His eyebrows furrowed.
A dark looming figure stood in front of the gates. Even though John couldn't see its eyes, he knew it was staring at him.
What the fuck?
Internally he began to freak the hell out. He was a deer in headlights that couldn't move, even if his foot was already on the gas pedal.
Now that the figure was walking closer to him, he could slowly start to make out the details of Paul.
"Oh, shitshitshit—" John scrubbed both hands through his hair, trying very hard to appear like a man who'd who was just simply tired and not one that just nearly had a bloody heart attack.
Paul bent at the waist until they were eye level through the open window.
"Yeah?" John asked.
"Back at the studio... you said you wanted a word? About a new song?"
John glanced at his watch. It was past midnight. What the hell was Paul doing out here talking to him instead of cuddling or whatever it was that he did with Jane other than fuck her?
"We can talk about it tomorrow."
Paul blinked.
"Oh, okay." Paul nodded once, then gazed off down the empty street as if he'd forgotten why he'd come over in the first place.
"…Right then," John laughed with an awkward chuckle. "Night, Paul."
Paul stared at him.
"D'you... maybe want to come in?"
John raised his eyebrow.
"Isn't Jane asleep?"
Paul smiled and put a finger to his lips.
"It's okay, we need to be really sneaky."
John stared at Paul who kept his fingers up to his lips.
"As much as I'd love to," John said sarcastically. "It's past midnight."
Paul's smile faltered. He searched John's face for a moment.
"Oh."
Another pause.
"...Yeah."
"It's just—"
"Sorry."
"Paul, it's fine."
"I'm sorry."
"Paul."
"Sorry. I know."
Paul looked over his shoulder toward the house, then back at John.
"D'you want to come in?"
"You've just asked me that."
"Sorry. I'm sorry."
John bit his lip, searching the man's face for answers, something to explain his odd behavior. There was nothing, Paul's face was neutral. Too neutral. There had to be something.
"...Paul." he licked his lips before continuing. "Have you been drinking?"
"No."
"Pills?"
"No."
"You sure?"
"I'm fine, really."
John looked at him skeptically, not understanding his weird behavior.
"Are you sure you haven't taken something?" he pressed, not believing a word that was coming out of the man's mouth.
"No, no I didn't I—"
Paul's eyes suddenly widened. He backed away from John's car, almost tripping on the curb.
"What the fuck?" He burst out in helpless laughter. "What the fuck?"
"Christ, you were starting to scare me!" John let out a sigh of relief.
"This is dead weird." Paul laughed, he still seemed to be in shock as he frantically scanned the area around him.
"Yeah, what the fuck?"
Paul let out a few more laughs until it died down.
He shook his head.
"No, wait..."
He pouted.
"No, no, no…"
The pout on Paul's face turned into a grin that was pointed at John before fully standing up and walking towards John's side of the car. He practically flung the door open and stood there, crossing his arms against his chest. John watched, baffled at what he was witnessing. Paul crouched down on the ground, smiling up at John.
"I know what you're trying to do."
"Paul, what the fuck?" He laughed again.
Paul stood back up slamming the door, laughing as he ran to the passenger door and opened it, sitting back inside.
"Let's go back to your place." he smiled.
"You're starting to actually freak me out." John said, trying to hide the flurry of emotions he was feeling at the moment.
"Christ," Paul breathed out. "Oh, no."
"Paul, I have never seen you act like this, what the fuck is wrong with you?"
Paul looked at John somberly before resting his head on the wheel. John didn't know what he should do, a part of him wanted to maybe joke about his current state and another part of him wanted to rub Paul on the back and help him with whatever was going on.
"My da' is dying." Paul admitted.
The car went silent.
"Jim?" John asked. Last he saw the man, he was in tip-top shape, but a lot can change in a few years, he guessed. That's probably why Paul was acting so weird. Shit, now John felt horrible. Even though he and Paul's father never really liked each other, it's was still Paul's dad at the end of the day.
"Mhm." Paul sniffled.
"Of what?" John whispered, trying to approach the conversation gently.
"Cancer."
John was about to ask another question until Paul started heaving, crying audibly in the quiet car. He frowned, moving his hands closer to Paul's back but then quickly pulling them away. John wasn't the best at comforting people, always ending up just silently watching the other person.
But this wasn't just any other person, it was Paul, and he needed his support
After a moment John reached across, resting a hand on Paul's shoulder. It was awkward, but a grounding touch nonetheless.
"Hey," he said softly. "It's alright, Paul. Don't cry."
Paul looked over, eyes red and mouth trembling.
"I can't be alone, Johnny." he sobbed, rubbing his sleeve against his runny nose.
John gave his shoulder another squeeze.
"You have Jane, don't you?"
Paul's crying stopped.
He turned slowly toward John, his face hidden in the dim light.
After a long beat, he said, almost too quietly to hear:
"Can we just go?"
John held Paul's gaze for a second, then nodded.
"Yeah."
He reached for the gearstick, turned the key, and eased the car out onto the road.
…
When Paul entered John's house, he acted like it was his first time ever in it, which John found strange considering they had gone over to each other's house multiple times, but decided it wasn't worth questioning.
"It's bigger than your old flat." Paul noted, looking at a photo of the group in their early days that was hung on the wall.
"No shite. It's a practically Buckingham Palace."
Paul turned to him with a grin.
"Bit generous, that." he giggled.
John rolled his eyes. "Cheeky sod."
Paul wandered off again, poking his nose into every corner as though he'd never been in a house before. He stopped by the fireplace, grabbing a framed picture.
When John walked over and saw which one he was holding up.
It was a family photo of him, Cynthia, and Julian.
"I've been meaning to put that one away." John muttered, taking the frame from Paul's hands and placing it back on the mantle.
"I never liked her anyways," Paul said. "She was too much of a pain in the arse."
That caught John by surprise.
"I thought you still talked to her every now and then?"
Paul blinked, thinking.
"Did I?"
"…Yeah?"
"Oh."
Paul looked back at the photograph, his brow knitting together as though he were trying to recall something.
"Sorry."
"What are you saying sorry for?"
"I should've stopped talking to her once you two split. Sorry."
Paul shrugged, looking almost embarrassed.
The sincerity in Paul's voice made a light in John's heart bloom. He never really cared that Paul had stayed in contact with her, but knowing that Paul wouldn't anymore made him feel good inside.
"It's alright," John said with a small smile. "Oh, right I' ll show you the spare—"
"Is this your room?"
Paul was already halfway down the hall, peering into the bedroom with the open door.
"Yeah."
Paul glanced over his shoulder at John.
"I'm tired."
John let out a nervous laugh.
"You've already told me that."
"Mm."
He wandered into the room as though it belonged to him, pausing to inspect the records, photographs and bits of clutter before lowering himself onto the bed. He lay flat on his stomach . Then, almost absent-mindedly, turned his face into the pillow.
It took John a few moments to realise Paul was sniffing his pillow, taking in long inhales, fully taking in the man's scent.
"…Are you smelling me bed?"
Paul ignored John, saying nothing in return. He gripped the sides of John's pillow tighter, digging his nose deeper into the plush material.
From an outside perspective, it seemed like he was trying to suffocate himself .
John watched, feeling borderline creeped out.
Paul looked up from the pillow at John.
"Smells like you."
"Trying to tell me I smell like shite?"
Paul's eye widened, looking genuinely alarmed.
"No, no of course not!" He exclaimed, bunching up John's pillowcase into his fists.
Paul bit his bottom lip. "Can you sleep with me?" he asked. "Not in a queer way it's just—" Paul sniffled. "I can't be alone, John. I need you."
John didn't know what to say, he probably would've made a joke on a different day but he couldn't ignore the look in Paul's eyes.
Maybe…
"Alright, sure. Anything you need, Macca."
And with those words, John sat on the bed, kicking his shoes off as he now sat side-by-side with Paul. He felt the man lean his head onto his shoulder, letting out a pleased sigh.
"Christ, I needed this."
John swallowed a lump down his throat.
"Really?"
Paul hummed, nodding against John's shoulder
"Yeah."
The two sat next to each other in silence until Paul crawled out in front off John, close enough to feel the heat radiate off his face.
John's breath hitched, his mind spiraling with thousands of thoughts all at once. Paul leaned in closer to John, staring unashamedly at his lips. John found himself leaning in closer to Paul as well.
It all happened so fast, yet so slowly. Paul pressed his lips against John's, grabbing at the man's shoulders. John kissed back deeply and more passionately, not being able to control himself. He had wanted this for years, and now he finally had it. Desperately, John held Paul's hips, pulling him in closer.
Paul prodded John's lips with his tongue for entry, which John gladly gave.
Christ, John almost rolled his eyes from how good Paul tasted. His saliva had a faint hint of chocolate, most likely from earlier when they went to the corner store.
Paul suddenly pulled away from the kiss.
"What the fuck?" he gasped, eyes wide as he shoved himself backwards. "What the fuck!"
He misjudged the edge of the bed and went straight over it, landing on the floor with a heavy thump.
"What—fucking—what—?" John spluttered, scrambling backward until his shoulders hit the headboard.
"Oh, Christ… I'm sorry." Paul apologized, rising up from the ground.
"You kissed me!" John exclaimed.
"I know." Paul crawled back on the bed, inching closer and closer to John on all fours as the man tried pushing himself farther back onto the headboard.
"No, no, Paul what the bloody hell was that?"
Paul crawled a little closer until he stopped himself just inches away from John.
"I'm sorry."
"Paul seriously what the fuck—!"
"John, please! I thought I saw a spider on you."
He didn't answer for a while. The room was quiet other than both of their frantic breathing.
"For a second..." John hesitated, looking down at the blanket. "I thought maybe I'd done something you didn't want me to."
Paul's expression crumpled.
"No, no, never. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
His breathing hitched. He lowered his head into his hands, shoulders beginning to tremble.
"Oh, hell."
John's confusion drained away.
"Paul."
"I'm sorry," Paul whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."
"It's okay."
"I'm so sorry."
"I know you mean it."
John placed a reassuring hand on Paul's shoulder.
"Why don't you sleep on the bed and I'll sleep next to you on the floor?"
"And you?" Paul asked meekly.
John shrugged.
"I'll nick the blanket and sleep on the floor. Wouldn't be the first ridiculous sleeping arrangement we've ended up with."
Paul sniffled.
"Sorry…sorry…M'so sorry."
"If you apologize one more time, I might change me mind."
Paul nodded and lay back on the mattress.
"...Night, then Johnny."
"Night, Paul."
John pulled over the covers on Paul's body that quietly trembled. He tried ignoring Paul's intense stare, not blinking as he watched John pull down the blanket from his bed onto the ground.
Once he had turned off the lights in the room, John curled up on his floor, tugging his blanket over his body. The events that had happened during the day kept playing over and over in John's mind on loop.
Paul had kissed him. Like actually kissed him. John could still feel the heat that sizzled on his lips the second their lips touched earlier.
Eventually, he drifted off into sleep, replaying that moment on loop in his head.
…
John stirred awake sometime at night, he blinked groggily. The room was pitch-black and without his glasses—tossed somewhere out of reach—he could barely make out a thing.
Squinting into the darkness, he caught the faint glimmer of a familiar face looking down at him.
"Paul?" he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep.
"Johnny." Paul smiled.
John blinked up at the man, trying to focus his eyes on the face in front of him.
"Have you been watching me sleep?"
There was a moment of silence before Paul spoke.
"Well, I was waiting for you to wake up."
John frowned. "So you were just going to stand there all night long?" he weakly chuckled. "Bit creepy, innit?"
Paul shrugged.
"You looked so peaceful, I liked watching you sleep."
"Jesus, that's even creepier."
Paul simply smiled, those bunny-teeth of his poking out on his bottom lip.
"Johnny, come up and sleep with me on the bed, yeah? I can't imagine it's comfortable on the cold ground."
"Alright, you better not suffocate me to death or something."
Rolling his eyes, Paul held out his hand for John.
John looked at it for a second before slipping his hand into Paul's. Paul's fingers closed around his, guiding him towards the bed. Once the two were settled on the bed together laying down, Paul turned to his side to face John. He ran his fingers through the man's unruly hair and began humming along to All My Loving.
John felt himself being lulled to sleep, soothed by Paul's warmth and sweet hums.
"Paul?" John yawned.
"Yes, Johnny?"
"Are you going to watch me sleep again?"
Paul stopped humming.
"I can't help it. You look so cute when you're asleep."
John let out the ghost of a laugh before sleep finally claimed him.
The minutes ticked by on the clock. Paul stared at John's resting face, now quietly humming along to Here, There, And Everywhere.
When Paul was certain John was asleep, he carefully gathered a lock of his hair between his fingers and drew it close to his nose. He breathed it in deeply, inhaling the day's old hair grease and sweat that stuck to the man.
Paul closed his eyes, inhaling the scent even deeper.
It smelt so much like John.
Paul loved John.
He loved him more than anything in the entire world.