Secret

Chapter 1

Paul awoke that morning to the sound of rain and wind slamming against his little bedroom window. It was supposed to be summer now - school had finished about four days ago - but Paul had yet to experience it, as it had been raining pretty much non-stop, despite it being unusually hot. For once, however, Paul didn't let the bad weather affect his mood, and happily threw his legs over the edge of the bed and got up, excited for the new day. Humming Rip It Up by his idol Little Richard to himself, he opened the curtains, letting the grey light flood into his little bedroom, and greeted the dreary outside with a bright smile, before quickly making his bed and opening his closet to see what he could wear that day. George would pick him up at a quarter past ten to go to John's together for band practice, so Paul wanted to wear something nice for his boyfriend. He wasn't sure why John wanted to start band practice in the morning, as he knew how he could get when he had to wake up early, but frankly he was glad to have an excuse to get out of the house and spend the day at John's, where he wouldn't be terrorised by his brother and his camera.

He debated for a while which clothes would make his chest stand out the least while still making him look sexy at the same time, before grabbing his tightest pair of black drainies (they weren't real drainies, as his father wouldn't allow him to get them, but he had let his regular jeans be taken in to create the same effect), a white shirt, a red pull-over, and his leather jacket - it had cost him a few quid but it was his best buy to date. He could already hear his father's voice in his head, telling him his trousers were too tight and that he was dressed far too hot for the time of year. Paul didn't care, though. He'd rather be a little warm than have anyone call him a "she". He hated it when that happened and, although he had trained himself not to react to it, it still hurt. Grabbing some clean underwear, his binder, and his packer, he rushed to the bathroom, sighing in relief when it was empty.

Turning on the taps, Paul drew himself a bath and studied his face in the mirror as he waited for the bath to fill up. He looked like a mess, with his bedhead of ruffled hair, heavy eyes, loose-fitting pyjamas and rosy cheeks. He had always been called handsome - or "pretty" and "cute" when he had still been a child - and Paul had to admit he wasn't bad-looking, but those perfectly arched eyebrows above his hazel doe eyes always remained something he felt insecure about. He had always been complimented on them when he had been little, and he hated them for it. They were feminine, and no matter what he tried, they remained perfect. Girls were jealous of him for them, and some even thought it made him look even handsomer, but Paul would be more than happy to trade them, wishing they were either less curved or rougher. Grimacing at himself, he shot himself a wink in an attempt to make himself feel better, before splashing some cold water on his face and drying it off with a towel. When he turned back to the bath, it was all ready for him. He made sure to lock the door, before stripping naked and letting himself slide into the warm bath with a content sigh, feeling his body relax as the warm water engulfed him. Maybe he could stay in a tiny bit longer?

It was five minutes past ten by the time Paul got downstairs, and he was already feeling warm in his clothes, which he knew didn't promise much good for the rest of the day. Still, he pretended to be fine and said a cheery "hello" to his father as he walked into the kitchen. The eldest of the McCartney household glanced up from his newspaper and raised an eyebrow as he saw what his son was wearing, but Paul pretended not to see and walked on, having spotted his brother standing at the kitchen counter, eating his cereal as he was going through some of the photographs he had taken.

The McCartney kitchen was small, with only just enough space for a tiny breakfast table at which all three of them could sit if they squeezed. They didn't often have to, though, as they had their dinner in the living room in front of the telly and rarely ate lunch together, the brothers having their lunch at school or out somewhere most of the time. Breakfast was the only time they needed to squeeze together if they wanted to sit, which they rarely did. But that's what you got when you turned your dining room into a music room, Paul supposed.