𝐘𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐀𝐘 ── PAUL McCARTNEY

XIV. SINCERE APOLOGIES

Tuesday the 14th of October 1958

The next few days were awkward. It was mostly on my part but nevertheless, it was really awkward. I busied myself with every distraction possible. I avoided Paul in every way possible. But even now, I couldn't deny it was starting to become such hard work.

I think it was that I didn't plan to talk about it. However, despite my efforts, a rational and intellectual part of me knew I should. . . But I never wished to talk about that day at the beach. If I handled it wrong, if I make things worse than they have already begun to be, I could ruin and destroy so much without even meaning to. Everything could crumble in my grasp and I couldn't have that. I couldn't ever have that.

Maybe it was time I went home. I knew that I had thought about it, even if it were briefly. I knew that I ached for it —— more and more every day. In turn, for many reasons I'd isolated myself in my borrowed room. I could hear the loud strum of three guitars echoing through the house, muffled and dampened by distance, but still so lovely and heavenly.

I sat on the mattress of the bed, my weight sinking it a bit, I was devouring Paul's copy of Hamlet by William Shakespeare, it was one of the few books in the house. I think it was Paul's copy for school. Only moments ago, I'd taken a pencil and scribbled a few words here and there in the margins, dumping my thoughts, and underlined all my favourite quotes.

It was saving me from absolute boredom.

That was until George stood at the doorframe grinning. Leaning against it, he spoke with his familiar Liverpodian drawl, "Wanna come back to mine? We're having a practice."

I'd frowned, confused. "No I-I can't George because I'm moping."

George sighed, grumbling something inaudible under his breath, walking over to me and pulled at my wrist in a valiant attempt to get me up, "Geddup, lar. Ye can be all moping bout' later!"

"George," I said sharper than I expected, ripping my wrist away. "No."

George looked almost taken aback. A disappointment fell against his far too alluring features.

"Oh, alright. Next time then," George smiled softly and swiftly turned out of the room, leaving me alone in my solitude. I'd gripped the battered copy of Hamlet to my chest even tighter. I didn't mean to disappoint him. Was it horrible to say that I was only trying to protect him? All of them?

I could almost hear the voice at the bottom of the stairs, so familiar, so captivating, my heart skipped a beat.

"Is she coming?" I hear Paul murmur.

"No," George admitted sourly.

There was silence for a moment, so silent you could hear a pin drop. Then I could hear, two feet thundering up the stairs, I hadn't expected when Paul appeared at the doorframe this time. From the corner of my eye, I could see how his lovely face was expressionless when he tossed my yellow rainjacket in my direction. It hit the bed with a gentle woosh.

I chewed at the inside of my cheek, wishing that he couldn't see the teary glaze in my eyes when I'd glanced out the window, to the sanctuary gloomy late afternoon.

With all the courage I could muster I let my eyes bore into his hazel ones. Paul grinned a little as he spoke to me the first time in days, "C'mon, we're waiting for you, love."

"I–I don't think that––," I'd begun.

"Ye bruised my pride Daisy," Paul confessed cutting me off, his voice was tender but firm and I could see there was a harshness in its undertones. "Do ya wish to bruise it even more?"

"Paul I don't wish to go. Thank you for offering but I'd like some space if you please."

Paul's jaw tightened. I didn't think that he liked any of this.

"Why do you want me to go? Why do you keep insisting that I do things all the time with you and your little friends? Don't you understand I just want to be left alone?" I managed to speak calmly but my anger was there brewing and bubbling. I could feel my expression shift to something of horror. The last thing I ever wanted to do was lash out.

Please I don't want to hurt you. I'm ruining myself because of it. . . Please, please, I don't want to hurt you. I'm ruining myself——

My mind raced ahead to conclusions. "Please tell me this isn't a game. I don't want it to be a game, Paul."

"Daisy," He pleaded, taken aback and I knew I was already going against everything I'd promised myself. "Of course it isn't."

"We're going to hurt one another, Paul. You know that don't you? One day, sooner than later, I will have to go home."

He seemed puzzled. "Home? Back to Australia?"

Back to the future, more like, I'd added as my own little joke in my head.

"Yes," I'd admitted honestly. "But I really really don't know when. . . it's a bit, uh, complicated."

There was that familiar ache that settled in my heart. The look in his hazel eyes reflected his thoughts. I didn't think that he understood that one day I would be gone. . . Painfully, I almost saw that he thought that time was non-existent. That we had forever. That I had forever.

It was almost too sad, too tragic for my own behalf, I would one day be nothing to Paul but a fleeting and fading memory from his youth. If I went back home—if I found a way—would I be remembered? However, I knew that I would forever remember my time here, I would always feel the weight of the golden enshrined memories I had created. And selfishly, I desired more. I wanted more of this. I needed to make sure that I cherished all of this, every second before it would vanish and I'd go home.

"Please come along. We all want yer there," Paul repeated and all I could do was rise from the mattress. I could feel his hazel eyes drift to my own before I crossed the small shoe-boxed shape room and gently wrapped my arms around his frame. I could feel Paul chuckle and the vibrations that moved through his chest as he did so. He seemed happier now. More cheery. I knew he'd take my hug as a yes.

I found myself smiling and drowning in his lavender and Tabasco scent when Paul whispered in my ear, "I knew you'd cave, love. You can't resist me."

And Paul was exactly right. But it'd go with me to the grave. But I was glad that he had decided to put the whole kiss incident behind us.

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Author's note: I know that it's been a while and I apologise for that. This one is a bit short, probably a lot more than I'd like but it's a start :)