Beatles Imagines

2. Paul

I tapped my foot on the ground, trying to steady myself from breaking down into tears. I couldn't face the man in front of me whom bored his eyes into me with a more than likely aloof gaze.

"Well then, I want you out of here by tonight." I pressed my lips together tightly, refraining to say anything more. I now looked up to him with a heartless look, masking my emotions which were driving me to my own misery.

I couldn't let him know he had hurt me. I wanted to prove to Paul that he meant as much to me as I did to him. He didn't get the satisfaction to see my vulnerability.

"Please I think we should talk about this." His voice cracked midst of his sentence. He ran a shaking hand through his disheveled hair. "Please, I'm begging of you."

"Why the fuck do you think I want to talk about this, Paul? Talk about the thing that ruined our relationship? It'd be bloody stupid." I spat, throwing my hands into the air.

With my irrational thinking, I didn't notice how my chest was heaving. My breath became very shallow, and I could never remember a time in my life in which I had been more distraught. It hadn't even been this bad when my Aunt had died.

I wanted him to leave and never come back and I told him exactly that.

"Not until we talk about this, God damn it." A thump reverberated through the house, shaking me.

Looking down to the sudden noise, I noticed his hand had collided with ou-my dining table. The vase placed directly in the middle of it almost fell over onto its side, and it hobbled until it settled once again.

However, he minded no attention to anything else, as he stared at me like a madman. His doe brown eyes were wide, and the dark circles under them were very prominent under the light. I was scared of him, almost as much as I was angry at him.

"Fine. Let's talk. When's the first time you started fucking my best friend?" I spoke lowly as my jaw clenched. "Let's talk about that, shall we? Was she a good shag? Was she better than me? What if I fucked John, how would that feel, Paul? I always saw you as an empathetic person, but I guess you're just as much of a sociopath as Ana is. You didn't give a shit, and you still don't, do you?"

"I-" He broke eye contact with me, obviously guilty for his actions. He scuffed his boots on the ground, and caught his dry lips with his teeth, biting on them vigorously. Sniffles escaped him, yet he covered his face from me, leaving his appearance completely hidden. "I'm so fucking sorry, it was a mistake."

"Mistakes don't last two months, Paul." I shouted at him, pinching the bridge of my nose. I had no time to feel sorry for him, he shouldn't have cheated on me, when I've done nothing but devote my time loving and caring for him, just to get a knife in the back.

I then felt a wet drop of water roll down my face, and wiped it away briskly with the back of my hand. I hoped he hadn't seen it, but I highly doubt that he didn't.

Time ticked by, and we just stood there, a shell of the once jubilant and loving couple we had been. Deathly Silence filled the air, drifting us farther away from each other than we initially had been. Seconds felt like minutes, and minutes felt like hours. All I could think about was memories that'd we'd made. There were so many memories that were now tainted with sorrow.

How could he cheat on me?

Why was I not good enough for him?

Dry sobs racked from his lips, and I could feel more tears rolling down my face as well.

"You should probably go now."

"I just-" Paul's cries stopped him, and a few moments passed by before he was able to compose himself,"- want you to know, that it wasn't my intention to hurt you. It wasn't at all, I love you, so much. I regret it all, every fucking minute."

"Then why did you do it?" I whispered morosely, searching within the depths of his eyes as though they had the answer.

I felt a hand wipe my tears away.

"I don't know." Paul responded quieter than I had, and pressed his lips together. His eyes searched mine desperately as well.

His hand still remained on my face, caressing my flushed cheeks softly.

"God you make this so hard." I breathed out, feeling more confused than I'd ever been.

Paul apologized, leaning his forehead on mine. "I can do better, please forgive me. I can't leave you, I won't be able to do it. Just give it time, sleep on it. I will wait for you."

I silently savored this moment, knowing this would be the last time that we interacted in this manner. I wanted to tell him that it was ok, and that we could get through this, but I knew we couldn't. He had hurt to the point it was irreversible. It would only hurt us both to continue, knowing that his infidelity would be a constant reminder.

"Goodbye, Paul." I broke down, stepping away from him, crying convulsively.

Heartbreak hurt worse than anything I'd ever read, or watched. It felt worse than any flu or cold, as my chest tightened and the lump in my throat got bigger, I thought I was being choked. And by the way I cried, it probably sounded like I was too. Not to mention the horrid tingling sensation, or the hyperventilation that made me feel like I was going to collapse. It was like death.

"Goodbye."

His head dipped down and he walked towards the door with the suitcase that I messily packed for him earlier. Midway, he turned around, looking at me for the last time with his big brown doe eyes, before he turned back around and walked out the door and my life without another word.