(inspo taken from "Two of Us")
John stood outside the man's door, contemplating if he should knock or just walk away.
"Ye only live once Lennon mate, take the risk," the male muttered under his breath, eyeing the doorknob and letting his fist hover in front of the door.
With another deep breath, he knocked in a rhythmic pattern on the door, tucking his hands in his pockets as he waited for the man he was expecting to see.
To his relief, the door opened with a quiet creak, as he was greeted by his old best mate, Paul McCartney.
"Ah, if it isn't Mister 'Peace-And-Love'! Come in, come in," the male ushered with a pleased smile, making way for John to enter. John returned the smile as he walked in, stretching his shoulders back with a deep inhale.
"Ye oughta clean up 'round here, Macca." John took off his coat and placed it on the rack, turning to the other. Paul watched as he did, then walked toward him with a sigh. "Suppose it could use a little touchin' up. Wha's been up with ya, hm? Kids doin' well," he asked, placing his hands on his hips and staring at the male?
"S'been alright, the kids are doin' quite well. How 'bout ye'self? Haven't heard from ye in a while, or from Linda."
"Oh, 's goin' alright as well. Been as happy as ever," Paul answered with a confident smile, to which John returned it with a slight, half-assed smirk. 'Cheeky bastard,' John thought.
John then settled himself down into the nearby sofa, sighing deeply as he let himself sink into it. Paul took a seat near him, leaving a bit of distance between them.
He felt a bit awkward being in the same room with John, especially after it had been so long since they last talked. He wondered if the other felt the same, as he eyed him, trying to read his facial expression. John wasn't terribly expressive, so it was difficult to read. A long silence filled the room before John spoke.
"'ve heard word around town yer still in the music business." Paul turned to him after realizing he had spaced off, not realizing John was speaking to him.
"Hm? Oh, yeah, s'goin' pretty well. Dunno if you've heard any of our stuff," he mumbled, spacing off again and unconsciously biting at his fingernails.
"Oh, are ye kiddin'? I hear yer music on the radio more than I hear those bloody awful pop bands! 's better than that rubbish the media calls 'music'," John muttered, crossing his arms. He stared at Paul, his eyes fixated on him. He hadn't realized he was staring so hard, but he felt the need to "take him in," as weird as it was. He just hadn't seen the man in so long, he had almost forgotten what he looked like.
His hazel eyes and unkempt hair, his pale, lightly freckled skin, his rosy cheeks and lips. John found himself almost getting lost in eyeing him so hard. It wasn't a romantic thing, rather, it was a strong, platonic love thing. He really had missed his best friend so much that he couldn't stop staring at him. He resisted the urge to yank the other into a tight hug, thinking it would relieve him of his aching heart. Although, he would never admit it outloud that he had missed him. He felt uneasy at the thought of him even uttering the words, but it killed him to not express his gratitude for being there in some way.
"Y'know, I really missed ya John. Been too long without ya. T'be honest, I felt like I was goin' crazy not talkin' to ya. Like me heart was ready to burst from achin' so bloody much, y'know?"
John just stared at the other, his gaze still fixated on him. He wanted to be able to say the same, but something just felt so weird about it that he stayed quiet. Instead, he tried to flash a shy grin at the other in hopes he would understand that he felt the same. Paul grinned back before turning away once more. John himself began spacing off, wondering if Paul had really meant what he said. It was more believable when it came from him, since he was far more sincere than John ever could attempt to be.
