Paul Mccartney Imagines

21

The room was filled with chatter, people laughing and clinking glasses echoing through the small gathering. Paul had found a corner of the room to sit back and relax, taking a rare moment to unwind after another busy day in the studio. He wasn't much for parties lately, but somehow, you had convinced him to come along.

He scanned the room, searching for you out of habit, and found you across the way, laughing with a few friends. You looked comfortable and carefree, and a soft smile tugged at the corners of Paul's mouth. It was always like this—he'd catch a glimpse of you, and for just a moment, everything else seemed to fall away.

"Caught staring, mate." John's voice cut through Paul's thoughts as he plopped down in the chair next to him, a mischievous grin on his face.

Paul blinked, shaking his head. "What are you on about?" he asked, sounding casual.

John raised an eyebrow, giving Paul a knowing look. "You and her," he said, nodding in your direction. "Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about."

Paul furrowed his brow, confused. "What do you mean, me and her?"

John laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "You are dense, aren't you?"

Paul frowned, still not following. He glanced at you again, then at John, his confusion growing. "I'm not following, John. What's this about?"

John sighed dramatically, leaning forward. "She's in love with you, Paul."

The words hit him like a ton of bricks. Paul blinked, staring at John as if he hadn't heard him. "What?"

"She's in love with you," John repeated, his tone more serious now. "Come on, mate. How can you not have seen this? I can see it in the way she looks at you."

Paul's heart pounded in his chest, his mind reeling. "You're joking," he muttered, more to himself than to John. But when he looked up again, John's expression was anything but playful.

"I'm not," John said, shaking his head. "She's got it bad, Paul. She lights up like a bloody Christmas tree every time you walk into the room. You seriously haven't noticed?"

Paul was stunned, completely blindsided by the revelation. His thoughts scrambled, trying to piece together every moment he'd shared with you—every glance, every touch, every laugh. Sure, you were close, and there had always been a kind of unspoken connection between you, but love? He'd never even considered that you might feel that way about him.

"I—" Paul started, but the words caught in his throat. He didn't know what to say. How could he have missed this? He looked at you again, standing across the room, your laughter echoing faintly in his ears. Suddenly, the way you smiled at him and your eyes softened whenever you spoke to him started to make sense.

"Now it's all coming together, isn't it?" John said, smirking as he watched Paul's realization dawn. "She's not exactly subtle, you know. You're too wrapped up in your head to see it."

Paul ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm the sudden rush of emotions flooding him. You were in love with him? The idea seemed so impossible, yet now that John had pointed it out, he couldn't believe he hadn't seen it before. Every memory he replayed in his mind—the stolen glances, the way you always lingered a little longer when you were near him—seemed to glow with new meaning.

"But she's never said anything," Paul murmured, still grappling with the weight of the revelation.

"Probably because she doesn't think you've noticed," John said, shrugging. "She's not going to spell it out for you, mate. But trust me, it's there."