A.N: Ok so this is my first fan fiction aaah, I'm really sorry if for some reason this offends anyone, I am in no way affiliated with the Beatles, or any members. The story contains a few religious slurs and swear words, and I'm really sorry if this offends anybody. I hope you enjoy ☺️
I'm posting this in math class heheh
**********
I slammed the door, running my hand through my hair.
Why him?
I groaned in frustration, falling onto my bed. Of all the people to fall for, it had to be him. God, that was the problem, wasn't it. Him. He was a man! That's fucking illegal!
"You're a fucking queer, Paul." I muttered to myself.
As much as I despised myself for it, I knew it was true. These feelings were too strong to just be a "phase". I had girls throwing themselves at me, I'm Paul McCartney for fucks sake. I could have any woman I damn well please but my best mates the one I want?
I grabbed a pillow and muffled a scream.
My anger finally subsided into sadness, and the tears began to pour.
And pour.
And pour.
They poured for God knows how long, until I was interrupted by a knock on the door.
I kept my face covered but let out a grunt in response. Whoever was there let themselves in, and closed the door quietly.
There was a slight dip at the end of my bed as someone sat down, and as soon as they spoke I knew exactly who it was.
"C'mon Paul, I'm worried about you." John spoke gently, as if the wrong words would set me off.
"We just had a great show! You're usually on top of the world!"
I shrugged.
"We're best mates, you can tell me if something's happened."
I brought the pillow away from my eyes, and I got my first look at John. He was still sweaty from the show, and wearing the same clothes. There was something about tonight's show that really confirmed what I was feeling, and seeing him as I'd seen him a few hours before made me feel some kind of way.
He studied my face as if he was looking for some kind of clue as to why I was acting this way.
"Homesick." I lied, giving him a small smile. His expression told me he didn't believe me, but he didn't push it any further.
*************
I woke to the sounds of doors shutting and laughter echoing through our hotel room. Sighing, I turned to my side and checked the time.
3:42am.
My sorry attempt to roll over and try to fall asleep again was interrupted by a drunken John fumbling with the door to our shared room.
"Paaaauulie."
I groaned and got out of bed to let him in. Here I stood, in the doorway of a hotel bedroom at almost 4am with John standing in front of me.
He leant toward me, pulling me into a tight hug.
"I'm so glad you're awake." He whispered in my ear, his lips hovering above my jawline.
The feeling of his hot breath on my skin made my breath hitch. He noticed too, and put his hand on my face.
"Hey hey hey, don't be nervous."
I gulped, realising I shouldn't be enjoying this as much as I was.
"Get to bed, Lennon." I said as I pushed his chest away from mine.
He laughed a little, before wandering over to my bed.
I closed the door and realised where he was headed.
"Wrong bed, buddy."
John sat down, with a frown on his face.
"Johnny's bed is over that side of the room." I said, pointing at the other single bed.
Despite my useless attempts, he lay down.
"Fuck you're a difficult one."
He laughed again, this time louder. I smiled to myself in the darkness, and went over to him to get a pillow to take to his bed. John seemed very offended.
"What do you think you're doing McCartney?"
"Well you're in this bed, so I was gonna stay in yours."
One thing that sucked about John was that he was much stronger than I was. This allowed him to quite easily pull me onto the bed when I got too close.
"What if I wanna stay with-"
He grabbed my face with both hands and pressed our cheeks together. "yooOOOU!"
Even though it felt wrong to stay with John, especially since he was drunk, there was something about the way we seemed to fit together that persuaded me to stay. He pulled me into him, my head resting on his chest. His arms draped around me, keeping me close to him. I was surrounded by his smell, his warmth, him.
Nothing has ever felt so right, yet also so wrong.
"John, I really can't stay with you."
He looked down at me, looking genuinely sad. "Why not?"
"First off, this is queer and we are not queer. Second, we are in a single bed. Third, you're drunk."
He shrugged. "I don't care, you're staying here with me tonight."
I tried to push him off me, but he only tightened his grip.
"Why does this matter to you so much?"
He laughed a little and shook his head, before answering.
"Because Paul-"
He looked down at me, then closed his eyes.
"I love you."
*********
A.N: I really hope that wasn't too shitty 😂 Please give advice!!