Paul Mccartney Imagines

29

You paced around the living room, your heart pounding in your chest. The silence in the apartment felt heavier than usual, filled with the weight of what you'd just found out. You couldn't believe it—wouldn't believe it—but the truth was staring you in the face.

Paul had been taking drugs. You'd suspected something was off for a while, but when you overheard him casually mention it to one of his friends, it felt like the floor had dropped out from under you.

The door creaked open, and Paul walked in, his face lighting up when he saw you. "Hey, love! Sorry, I'm late, I got caught up in the studio."

You stood still, crossing your arms, trying to control your emotions. "We need to talk."

He looked at you, his smile fading as he took in your tone and stance. "What's wrong?"

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. "I know."

"Know what?" His brow furrowed, but there was a flicker of realization in his eyes.

"I know about the drugs, Paul. You didn't think I'd find out, did you?" Your voice cracked at the end, a mix of hurt and frustration welling up inside you.

Paul's face fell, and he shifted his feet, running a hand through his hair. "It's... it's not a big deal, love. Everyone's doing it. It helps with the music, with the pressure—"

"Not a big deal?" You cut him off, feeling the anger rise. "It is a big deal, Paul. You didn't even tell me! I had to discover by overhearing you talk about it with your mates like it was nothing."

He sighed, stepping closer to you, his hands reaching out but stopping short of touching you. "I didn't want to worry you. I didn't think it was something you needed to know—"

"Needed to know?" You took a step back, hurt flashing across your face. "I'm your partner, Paul. We're supposed to be honest with each other. And you... you just kept this from me?"

Paul's expression softened, but his voice showed a trace of defensiveness. "I'm under a lot of pressure, love. The band, the fame, the constant attention. Sometimes it's hard to handle, and it just... helps, you know?"

You shook your head, tears stinging in your eyes. "I thought we were in this together. But it feels like you're shutting me out. I don't want to be with someone who thinks that's okay, who doesn't care about how dangerous this is."

He flinched at your words, his face softening further as guilt seeped in. "I do care. I care about you more than anything. I didn't think it would affect us like this."

You exhaled sharply, fighting to keep your voice steady. "It affects everything. It's not just about the drugs, Paul. It's about trust. How am I supposed to trust you when you're keeping things like this from me?"

He looked down at his feet, silent for a long moment. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, almost apologetic. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sorry."

You wiped a tear from your cheek, shaking your head. "I just... I don't understand why you'd even want to do that to yourself. You don't need it, Paul. You're so talented, so loved... you don't need anything else."

He reached out again, this time gently taking your hands in his. "I didn't realize how much it would hurt you. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but... it's not easy for me either. Sometimes, I feel like losing myself in all of this."

His words struck something in you, a flicker of sympathy breaking through your anger. You could see how exhausted he was, how much the fame and constant pressure weighed on him. But that didn't change how you felt.