A/N: lowercase is intended.
James Paul McCartney was sat in the parlour, his nimble fingers lay gently across the ivory piano keys, although no sound evoked from the old percussion instrument. his thoughts were as wild as his hair at the very moment, however it seemed the only thing on his mind was the charming artist that was given the honourable job of paining Mr. McCartneys portrait. however, Paul hadn't been able to make his appointment the night before, due to his face not being exactly pristine. a bruise was sprawled across his left cheekbone, one that couldn't be concealed with any amount of makeup; he had tried many a time. he had sent a letter to the painter, sending all his apologies, yet hadn't heard any words back. as he sat numbly on the piano stool, he couldn't help but think of what a mess he had gotten himself into. he, a posh, rich and honourable heir to a grand mansion, had fallen in love with a painter by the name of John Lennon.
