★彡ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴅᴏᴡɴ | ᴘᴀᴜʟ ᴍᴄᴄᴀʀᴛɴᴇʏ彡★ ✅

★彡[ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 3]彡★

As soon as she was gone, Paul felt a sense of loss. That was odd for anybody, but especially so for him. He never felt a sense of loss for any girl - Ringo called him heartless for it, but Paul wasn't a romantic like his bandmate was.

Paul turned back the way he had come and put his hands in his pockets before he decided to make his way back to the flat where he was currently staying with George and Ringo, John having moved into a lovely house in Weybridge with his wife, Cynthia, and their infant son Julian.

It wasn't a particularly long walk - only fifteen minutes or so - but for Paul it went on way too long. All he could think about was the girl - Abby - and how he had been desperate to kiss her from the first moment he saw her with the flowers at the stall. She was beautiful, her eyes were expressive and a pretty colour and her hair looked so soft that he wondered what it would be like to knot his fingers in it as he -

The door to their building was suddenly in front of him and he fished his keys from his jacket pocket, unlocking the door and going upstairs and letting himself into the flat.

George was on the settee when he walked in, strumming his guitar. He looked over his shoulder and said, "hi, Paul. Did you get chased? You look flustered."

Paul blushed, wanting to keep the details of the girl a secret. It was more like he had done the chasing. "No I didn't get chased, Geo. In fact, I had a rather nice walk."

"Why'd you look like that, then?" Paul came to sit on the settee, and the two of them looked at each other, though George continued to quietly strum. He was a great guitarist; so was Paul, but George was way better. They were lucky to have him in the band - or was he lucky to be in the band?

Paul stuttered, "r-ran up the s-stairs."

George snorted and looked at the neck of his guitar. "You're the worst liar."

Paul rolled his doe eyes and asked, "where's Ringsie?" He looked around the front room as if the drummer would suddenly appear.

George shrugged, "haven't seen him yet."

It was fairly early in the morning, so it was little surprise that Ringo wasn't up already.

Paul was an early riser because his father had always had to make sure he was up for school before he left for work in the morning, however the rest of The Beatles would quite happily lay in bed until mid-afternoon... it was a surprise that George was even awake, to be perfectly honest.

"What're you working on?" He was desperate to take his mind off of Abby.

"Song for the album." George hadn't even wanted to tell Paul, because he knew it was less than unlikely that he would be allowed to have it included. John and Paul were the songwriters, and that was obvious to the four of them.

"Can I hear it?" Paul asked curiously. George had submitted songs to them before, and none of them had been great. Even Don't Bother Me had had to be reworked before they included it on the 'With The Beatles' album the previous year.

George replied, "it's nowhere near done. I'll play it for you when it is."

Paul knew that there was no use arguing with the younger man. If George didn't want to do something then nothing and nobody would convince him to change his mind. He was without a doubt the most stubborn Beatle.

George put the guitar down and looked at the paper which Paul had thrown on the coffee table. "Anything good?" He asked, gesturing to the item.

Paul shrugged, "more about us. Is there actually news anymore or is it just The Beatles Times?"

George reached over and picked up the paper, flicking through it and trying to ignore every Beatles article and photograph that he came across.

He finished reading the remaining articles in less than twenty minutes.

He sighed, throwing the paper back onto the table. Paul came back in from the kitchen, two cups of tea in his hands. He put them down on top of the paper.

"Do you think the bubble will burst?" George asked, reaching across and taking one of the cups. It was made exactly to his liking, and he grinned at Paul as a thank you.

Paul replied, "sometimes I hope it will." He admitted, "I'd like to not have to wear the moustache whenever I leave the flat."

George snickered, "you've still got it on, by the way."

Flushing once more, Paul put his tea down and peeled off the moustache. He had taken his hat and glasses off when he was in the kitchen but had forgotten the last part of his disguise.

He chucked it onto the floor, wishing he could stamp on it and be done with it once and for all... but instead he had an endless supply of them in a drawer in his bedroom.

"I hope it never pops." George said, "I like being rich and famous... I don't like the noise, though."

"Yeah," Paul agreed, "we're lucky that no one's found us here -"

"Yet." the youngest Beatle sighed, "it'll get out soon enough."

Paul nodded in agreement and the two sipped at their cups of tea.

The band was not due to be at the studio until after 1pm, so they definitely had time to waste. Ringo could go on sleeping, George could play his guitar and John could play with his son until then... and Paul? Paul could go on thinking about Abby.