The Beatles Imagines ❤️

| Paul |

The weather was dreadful. It was thundering, lightning, and down-pouring. Even though you loved the rain and this type of weather, especially in summer, you were worried about Paul. He was supposed to be home any minute.
Finally, he walked into the house, his clothes partially soaked.
He muttered a "hi" which you were confused about; he always greeted you with a kiss.
He trudged upstairs and changed into more comfortable warmer, dryer clothes.
He trudged back downstairs but was stopped at the bottom of the staircase by Carissa.
"Yes?" He sighed, rolling his eyes.
"What's wrong, Paulie? You seem upset." Carissa said softly, taking Paul's hand and caressing it gently with her thumb.
Paul smiled lightly, but then looked down.
"It's fine, it's-it's the band. We broke up." Paul revealed, pulling his hand away and walking over to the door for some space.
"I'm so sorry." Carissa said quietly. She felt so bad for her poor husband. He worked so hard to keep this band together, writing songs day and night. Now, all his hard work and his relationships with his friends were now down the drain.
"That fucking bastard John! He ruined everything. He killed the dream, Riss. He killed it, he killed it, he killed it!" Paul said angrily, banging his fist on the door as he repeated that phrase, resting his head on his fist for a second and breathing out an angry breath.
"I need to go see him. Give that son of a bitch a piece of my mind." Paul decided, starting to reach for the doorknob.
Carissa saw this and stepped in front of Paul.
"Paul, stop. You don't want to do this. You're just going to worsen the situation. I don't want you to get hurt." She pleaded.
Paul smiled mirthlessly. "Move out of the way, Carissa." He snapped. He pushed her lightly to the side, trying to not let his fuming anger get the best of him. Carissa stepped back in front of him, shielding herself from Paul so he didn't hurt her. She needed to stop him from leaving the house, with the bad weather and what he could get into with John.
Paul's face softened. "Carissa, come here." Paul said.
Carissa hesitated, so Paul beckoned her to come toward her. She eventually did, and Paul wrapped his arms around her.
"I would never hurt you, ok? Ever. I'm not like John." Paul's face scrunched up in dislike.
"It's just-I'm upset. I never wanted us to break up. They're like my brothers, you know? We did everything together. We traveled everywhere, made so much music. Now that's done." Paul said, his voice cracking as tears pooled in his eyes and cascaded down his face, not making eye contact with Carissa.
"Oh, Paul." She replied softly.
Carissa wrapped her arms around Paul as he buried his head into the crook of her neck, sobbing his heart out.
Her chest ached for this poor boy. His cries and whimpers absolutely tore her heart apart.
She stroked his hair, rubbed comforting circles on his back, anything she could do to calm him down.
Eventually, the two moved to the couch after Paul settled down a bit.
Sniffling, he wiped his eyes, some loose tears still falling from them.
Carissa held his hands and rubbed them with her thumbs like before.
"Yoko was absolutely terrible. She started John on heroin, and then he became so lovestruck it became annoying, inviting her into the studio, her screaming into the microphone like she was a star. It made my ears bleed. John thought he had the right to bring her in, even though none of us could bring our girls in. I mean, what did he see in her? Her voice was terrible. I don't know if she was dropped on the head as a baby or something-"
You giggled and Paul smiled,
"But her voice was horrendous. I'm very perplexed on how John Lennon-of all people-thought she had a good voice. And she was always so cruel to us, thinking she could just take John away from us. She cheated with him, knowing he had a child and a wife waiting for him at home. She stole George's biscuits all the time. He needed them, the beanpole. Oh, poor George and Ringo. I was such a dick to them, thinking I was the best. I should have let them lead more songs. Then we would have never have broken up." Paul said, taking his hands away from you and pulling his hair with his hands, starting to cry again.
"Paul. Look at me." Carissa said.
Paul hesitantly looked at her, his brown tear-filled eyes making Carissa's heart feel like it was being squeezed.
"It's not your fault, ok? Even if you made some mistakes, you are still an amazing musician and extraordinary person. You are kind, talented, and generous. You are charming and so so funny, Paulie. Mistakes don't make you less of a person. Also, it wasn't you alone. Everyone contributed. John with his addiction and peace shit when he knows damn well he abused Cynthia and Julian all the time. So don't worry, my love, everything is going to be fine. Ok? Come here." Carissa said, pulling John into her.
He rested his head on her shoulder, his crying subsiding as Carissa whispered sweet nothings into his ear and stroked his hair once again.
After a while, Paul pulled away and cracked a small smile.
"Thank you, Riss. You always know how to make me feel better. I love you so much." Paul told her, kissing her softly.
"Of course Paul. I love you more than you'll ever know." Carissa smiled gently.
The two cuddled onto the couch, listening to the heavy pitter-patter of the rain as it fell outside.
Content, Carissa drifted to sleep, her love by her side.