Beatles smuts and fluffs;)

The Valentine (Paul)

(A/N: Happy Late Valentines day!!  Heres a fun lil chapter for you all!)

Paul sat in frustration, his brows furrowing in thought. The pen rolled in his long fingers and his hand began to cramp from holding it for so long. His cigarette loosely hung from his frowning lips.

"Come on, Macca. You've got to think of something, anything!" He whispered to himself, harshly. His other hand which hadn't been holding the pen ran through his hair. He stared dead eyed at the crappily cut out pink paper heart in front of him. In his neatest handwriting were three words: 

My Dear Y/N...

My dear Y/N. My dear Y/N. He read the line over and over in his head until it made him angry that nothing had come up into his mind. Several other versions of the same crappy heart lay crumpled up. The only light was from his room.

"You've written top of the chart love songs...why cant you just write a damn fucking love letter?" He continues to whisper.

"Y/N, I love you." No.

"Y/N, I've always..."....no.

"Y/N. You've got an amazing-" No! 

Shit. All of it. He sat back and ashed his cigarette. He allowed his mind to wander off in thought of you. His frown turned into a soft smile as he thought of your smile, the  way your nose would crinkle when you laughed, the way you used your hands when you spoke. He loved all of it. He loved the way you seemed so shy when he was around you, for being with you made him shy as well. Who knew that Paul McCartney, famous rock star, would still get shy around a girl? 

He knew you didn't like the attention that being a rock star had gotten. He knew that he would've had a much better chance with you if he didn't mess around so much with other girls when you were younger, before the fame and before all the attention. He knew you deserved better than a fling, but he had always liked you, but he couldn't use his usual way of getting girls with you. It would only drive you away.

His attention went back to the pink heart that looked to be made by a 5 year old. He wasn't a craftsman, but Valentine's Day was tomorrow,so he needed to have this done. He needed to have you before anyone else took the opportunity to. He would buy you a bouquet of roses too, of course. 

He then had a thought. As much as he would like to it to be a sappy romantic poem, or even steal lyrics from songs he was planning, he started to write a letter. He wrote small, he needed to fit it all on his little paper heart:

My dear Y/N,

For so long now, I've loved you. I've loved you since our days of sitting in the park at night, since our cigs outside the school, and since the moment I knew you. I can't imagine a world without you, and I couldn't go on without knowing what its like to have your love.

                                                                         Truly ,

                                                                                     Your Paul

He sat back, admiring his work. He couldn't wait to give it to you. He had hoped dearly that your back and flirting with him had not been for nothing. You had always given him extra attention. He had gotten always moments with you, when it was just the both of you. Tension had always been there between you two, neither having the courage to act on it, like children. He couldn't believe that after so many years, he was finally going to ask you to be his. Everyone around you when you were younger thought you would end up together, if they didn't think you already were, you two had always been so close. Of course, he would have to explain more once he actually gave it to you. He had so much more to say.

He yawned, checking the time on his watch. 11:30. He got up from his desk, being quiet. His dad was long asleep. He chucked off his pants and crawled into bed, dreaming and wishing the pillow he was cuddling was, in fact, you.