Pretty Boy | mcharrison

i

The sun's beams cast a soft glow upon Paul's skin as he tiptoed around his room, in search of a shirt that would set the tone for his look that day. It was still morning and the home was silent, as Mimi's usual bickering was not yet heard. The room had been a bit warm, Paul had forgotten to open the window next to his bed to let in the cool breeze that Liverpool had to offer, rather settling for a fan set up upon his dresser that was across the room. It had been stuffy once he woke up but the window was soon after opened and the only worry now was the chance of bugs entering the room and pestering the man who was in search of a white blouse of some sort, as it was said to be a surprisingly warm day in Liverpool for once.

Paul pranced over to the radio laying upon his nightstand, turning the knob gently until the volume was raised and a soft hum of static filled the room. The same fingers rolled the other knob until it settled on ELO's newest hit "Evil Woman." Paul hummed softly, admiring the way that the music chimed around his room, engulfing him in a warm embrace. He felt content and at peace with himself, even if that meant that he would have the peace for the next few minutes inside the foreign home that he would now have to get accustomed to claiming as his own until he can have a stable life once again.

Paul had never imagined that he would have to get to the point where he would have to run outside in the pouring Liverpudlian rain to call John with the last 25 pence that he had stolen from the pocket of his father's trench-coat once he fell fast asleep after the incident. Paul could still remember the cold rain hitting his face, each drop felt like a sting to the face as he frantically grabbed for the door, hoping to call the only person whose phone number he had memorized by heart: John Lennon. He still remembered that day. From when he lugged his rain-soaked fabric shoes into the phone booth to when he heard the first few rings of the phone. There was a repetitive hum that lasted a few seconds finally the line had gone silent. Paul remembered gasping and holding a soaked hand to his gloss smeared lips. Had John not answered the phone? Had he just lost the last amount of money that could have been his haven for the rest of his life?

"Hello? Anyone there?" Paul smiled through sticky yet wet fingers. There it was, that nasally voice that could not be mistaken for anyone else's voice other than John Winston Lennon himself. Paul remembered the grin on his face, the sheer happiness that threatened to engulf him as he racked his brain for proper ways of explaining the situation that had just occurred to him.

"John? Hey, it's me. It's Paul. Do you mind if I stay over there for a bit? I had a bit of a scrap with my father and I need a place to stay." This was all that Paul needed to say. This was only a couple of weeks ago and things just couldn't be any better since he had made that phone call to John in the payphone on that painful day in the Liverpudlian streets.

Paul snapped out of his memories, not yet realizing that he had a streak of tears rolling down his plump cheek, making its way to his soft lips where the taste of salt brought Paul back to his senses and he realized that he had been absentmindedly crying. "Shit," he had mumbled to himself, gently flicking the tear away with the end of his fingertip and wiping the excess on his leg.

He gripped the cotton blouse tightly between his slender yet coarse fingers and wished that the past would not come back to haunt him, especially at that moment. Today marked one month of Paul living with John and Mimi, being taken under the wing of someone else who cared about him. He missed his brother with a passion, he had no idea what he had been up to lately. Was he still in school? Did he recently get a girlfriend? Paul smiled at the thought; he had always wanted to be there for his brother the day that he would realize that he had feelings for another person.

Alas, maybe there would be another day for him to hopefully run into Mike and get to speak again with his not-so kid brother. Paul smiled faintly and put the blouse down on his dresser before taking a seat on the soft bed. He ran a hand on the fabric of the cotton sheets, grateful to have a roof over his head. As cruel as John likes to say that Mimi can be at times, Paul was still happy that she had set aside her sternness to help keep him safe from his father's potential violence.

"Oi, McCartney," there was a knock at the door and a voluminous rapping of the door. John had a tinge of nettling in his voice which was a probable cause of Mimi finally waking up and beginning to chatter John's ear off with her unnecessary chores that were meant to keep John busy rather than actually help to keep the house orderly. "Get out of there quick, Cyn's almost here to kidnap you for the rest of the day."

"I'll be there soon." Paul chirped, smiling softly as he thought of John's girlfriend coming to his house only to spend the rest of the day with Paul in order to get him some new clothes that would help to replace what he left behind.

Paul sighed and got up from the bed, lowering the radio so Mimi would not knock down Paul's door and threaten to revoke Paul's radio privileges.