The Object of My Affection: My Band Mate's Sister

In Misery

"...We will be departing for Sweden at..." Brian was pacing up and down the length of the couch, on which his clients were seated.

Paul stared blankly at their impeccably dressed manager as he talked them through their tour. Not a word of what he was saying was going into his head. He sat on the edge of the couch, leaning forward, crossed legged with his elbow on knee and a cigarette in his left hand, which would raise to his mouth every minute. His eyes were unfocused and vision was blurred, he was miles away.

He didn't hold the same attitude towards this meeting like he did with the other ones. Usually, Paul would be bobbing his head along and trying to visualise everything within his mind so that it all went accordingly, like that kid in the class that always sat at the front and asking the teacher questions about everything.

Right now he was acting like the kid at the back, who looked like he was barely alive. The only sign of life in Paul was when he took a drag of his ciggie in a robotic action.

He just didn't care.

Pain surged through his body, bringing him back to earth and making him alert. His left hand shot to his right side where the pain originated and he shot a glare at John, who had just nudged him hard.

"Ow," Paul said grumpily.

John just pointed forward. Paul followed John's finger to see Brian was staring at him with raised eyebrows, as if waiting for an answer. Paul mutely stared back.

"Paul, pay attention," Brian scolded, bringing his fingers to his temples. "It's going to be you throwing a fit if something goes wrong or isn't to your liking now, isn't it? I'll go over it again, shall I?"

"No, I got every word," Paul said quickly, cutting off all the moans and groans from the other three. He wanted to get out off here badly. Brian must have wanted to leave just as much as Paul because he believed him almost too willingly.

Paul headed straight for the door that led to freedom a few seconds after Brian had left. He grabbed his coat of the kitchen counter on his way, pulling it on as he walked.

"Where you goin'?" George asked.

"Gettin' ciggies," he replied bluntly.

"Oh great! Can you get-"

But it was too late. Paul had already left and the door shut behind him mid-way through George's sentence. George frowned deeply, his thick brows shooting together. He turned to look at John and Ringo, who wore the same puzzled looks.

"What's his problem?" George spat.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Paul took a long drag from the newly lit cigarette that he held close to his body. He leaned further back into the bench, puffing out a cloud of white smoke along with the tension he was feeling. He watched it vanish into thin air, knowing the smoke would never return, but the tension would.

It had been three long and miserable hours since he watched the train depart from London back to Liverpool. Brona was probably back in Liverpool by now, drinking tea and filling in everyone the details of her holiday. Probably telling them about Matthew.

Paul ran his free hand up and down his face before his fingers rested on his forehead, where he could feel pain being provoked by frustration and depression. Maybe he should just forget about Brona. It was no use wanting someone that he couldn't have. Waste of time. 

She isn't really my type though, is she? Paul thought to himself. Don't I prefer blondes? Anyways, she wants a career. Do I really want a feminist as a girlfriend? No, too much trouble. It's too hard anyways. So much obstacles. So I've made my choice: I'm going to forget about her. Easy.

Paul took another drag from his cigarette, emptying his head of all his thoughts. He crossed his arms tightly across his chest, his eyes scanning the park. His hazel eyes darted from place to place before they could focus. But then they landed on a bench across from him, bringing a memory.

The musician shut his eyes. He let the memory take him without a hindrance.

Paul saw them both together. His arm wrapped around her as she nestled into his side. Both bodies relaxed. He remembered wanting to freeze that moment. Now he wanted to relive it. The black haired man could still hear their conversation.

"I guess I'll just 'ave to brave the storm."

"You're strong. A storm braver if ever I knew one."

A groan ripped from the back of his throat out of agony.

How could he forget? The memories came and went. He really did think about her a little more than he should have. But that wasn't his fault when a memory somehow etched its way into every aspect of his life.

Did she even think of him at all?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Paul returned back to the hotel room, he saw suitcases lying open. They'd soon be leaving here. Ringo gave him a welcoming smile, coming over to greet him. Ringo fell into his role of in being the older, caring brother.

"Are you alrigh', mate?" he asked softly, his hand gently patting his shoulder.

Paul managed a smile. "Just stress, that's all." Ringo seemed happy with his answer, making the bassist feel somewhat relieved. "Who's he talkin' to?" he asked, gesturing to George, who was on the phone.

Ringo smiled. "Brona."

"She's 'ome?" he asked, shocked. He quickly turned to George. "George, can I-"

"Yeah, I'll ring before I leave. Bye Mam! Bye Brona!" George put the phone down, hanging up.

"-talk to 'er?" Paul's lips fell fast into a frown.

"Oh sorry, Paulie!" George called, pulling a face.

"It's okay," he replied flatly.

Paul turned on his heel and headed towards the room, using the excuse that he was going to start his packing. His frown was still engraved on his face when he passed John by in the hallway. John tugged on his sleeve, making Paul retract his steps to face the older man.

"Let me tell you somethin', Paul," John said in a lowered voice that held an infinite amount of gravity. Seriousness graced all the features of John's face. "You won't be 'appy with anyone else while Brona Marry Ann Harrison walks the earth."

Paul was about to deny any feelings towards Brona but then decided better of it. John read him like a book. Lying to him would be hopeless. He nodded his head briefly before disappearing into his room and falling heavily on the bed. The springs creaked with the sudden weight.

John was right. John didn't have to be so dramatic about it but he really wouldn't be happy. He'd have to break up with Jane.

See everything else should have mattered to Paul. It should have mattered too much; George, their situation, their careers, etc. But it didn't. Nothing else mattered. The fact was that Paul was in love with Brona that was all. Nothing else counted.

A/N: Back to school fully on Monday. I don't think I'm ready to go back... so Misery is my song dedicated to the summer that went too quick. Anywho, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Good luck to everyone going back to school. Also who else is loving that picture of Paul? Peace!