Paul Mccartney Imagines

8

September 28th, 1964

Third Person POV

Paul had never been good with words. He could charm a crowd, crack a joke in a heartbeat, and even talk his way out of trouble, but he faltered when it came to real feelings. He had been with her for months, and though he felt it every time he looked at her, those three words always stuck in his throat.

It wasn't that he didn't love her; more than anything, the fear of losing her, of saying the wrong thing, held him back. As the days turned into weeks, he could feel her slipping away, her patience thinning. The silence between them had become an invisible wall, increasing with every unspoken word.

Tonight, that silence was about to break.

Your POV

The late afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows across my small living room. Paul sat at the far end of the worn leather couch, his leg bouncing in that nervous way it always did when he was uncomfortable. I hugged a throw pillow to my chest, trying to fill the growing space between us. The clock's ticking on the wall seemed deafening in the unbearable silence.

It had been weeks since I'd started feeling it - the heaviness, the doubt creeping into every moment we shared. I loved him, and I was almost sure he cared about me, but the gap between us grew more expansive with every opportunity for intimacy that passed us by.

I had tried to be patient, to wait for him to open up, but tonight, the tension finally snapped.

"Paul," I said, my voice cracking just enough to betray the storm raging inside me. "What are we doing?"

He looked up from the floor, startled, his warm brown eyes wide with surprise and a hint of fear. "What do you mean?"

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. "What are we doing?" I repeated, unable to keep the frustration out of my tone. "We've been together for months, and it's like... I don't know. It's like we're stuck in place. Like we're going through the motions but not moving forward."

He frowned, his eyes flicking away again and constantly avoiding. "I don't know what you're talking about. I thought things were fine."

"You can't believe that," I said, shaking my head. "You can't keep pretending everything's okay when it's not. You can't keep pulling away every time things get real between us."

"I'm not pulling away," he muttered, his voice defensive but weak.

"You are!" The words came out sharper than I intended, and he winced, but I couldn't stop now that the floodgates had opened. "Every time I try to get closer, you shut me out. And I'm tired, Paul. I'm so tired of waiting for you to say what you feel, to let me in."

He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit I'd grown to love and hate. "It's not that simple, you know that."

I laughed bitterly, hugging the pillow tighter as if it could hold me together. "You always say that. Why can't it just be simple for once? I tell you how I feel, but you... God, Paul, I don't even know if you care about me the way I care about you."

He shot up from the couch, pacing before the coffee table like a caged animal. His hands fisted at his sides, his shoulders tense. "Of course, I care about you! How can you even say that? You know I do."

"Do I?" I asked, my voice cracking again. "Because it doesn't feel like it. It feels like I'm the only one putting myself out there. And it hurts, Paul. It hurts more than you know."

He stopped pacing, his back to me, but I could see his shoulders shaking, his head bowed. I wanted him to turn around, look me in the eyes, and say what I needed to hear. But instead, he stood there, silent as always.

"Why can't you just say it?" I whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear. "Why is it so hard to tell me how you feel?"

Paul exhaled sharply, running both hands through his hair in frustration. When he spoke, his voice was rough with emotion. "Because every time I get close to saying it, I feel like I'm going to mess everything up, alright? Is that what you want to hear? That I'm terrified?"

I stood, my heart pounding in my chest, anger, and desperation mixing into something I could barely control. "Yes! I want to hear something, anything! I want to know that I'm not crazy for thinking we're in this together!"

He turned around, his face twisted in anguish. "I'm scared I'm going to lose you! I'm scared I'll ruin this like I've ruined everything else good in my life. Is that what you want me to say?"

The room seemed to freeze. His words hung between us, raw and jagged. My breath caught in my throat, and for a moment, I didn't know what to say.

"Paul..." I started, my voice softening as I stepped toward him. "You're not going to lose me. Not unless you keep doing this - keeping me at arm's length, never letting me see the real you."

His face crumbled, and for the first time, I saw the fear he'd been hiding beneath all the excuses and half-truths. "I don't know how to do this," he whispered, barely able to meet my gaze. "I've never felt this way before, and I don't know how to say it without sounding like an idiot."

I was close to him now, close enough to feel the warmth of his skin, but I still felt so far away. "You don't have to be perfect, Paul. You have to be honest. With me and with yourself."

He swallowed hard, his eyes searching mine like he was trying to find the right words. His hands reached out, trembling as they touched my arms. "I love you," he said, his voice shaking. "I love you so much it terrifies me. I've never loved anyone the way I love you, and it scares the hell out of me because I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

Tears stung my eyes, but I held them back. I reached up, cupping his face and forcing him to look at me. "I'm scared too, you know. Loving someone this much is always scary. But we'll never make it if you keep running from this, from us."

He closed his eyes, leaning into my touch like he was finally letting go of something he'd been holding onto for too long. "I'm sorry," he breathed. "I'm so sorry for making you doubt how I feel. I thought it wouldn't be real if I didn't say it, and then it couldn't hurt me. But I was hurting you instead, and that's the last thing I ever wanted to do."

I pulled him closer, resting my forehead against his. "You don't have to be scared, not with me. We're in this together, remember? Whatever comes, we face it as a team."

His arms wrapped around me, holding me tight like he was afraid to let go. "I love you," he whispered again, his voice stronger. "I love you, and I promise I'll spend every day showing you how much if you'll let me."

I smiled through my tears, feeling the weight of the past few months lifting from my shoulders. "I love you too, you big idiot. Don't make me wait so long to hear it again, okay?"

He chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Never again. I swear."

And in that moment, wrapped in each other's arms, I felt the love he had been too scared to speak. It wasn't perfect. It was messy and complicated and a little bit terrifying. But it was real, and it was ours.

And for now, that was more than enough.