George's POV
''George, are you coming?'' she said, smiling up at me as she stood from the table.
'' Yeh.'' I told her, swallowing the rest of my plate and bouncing after her while she went up to her room. I found her sprawled on the bed, a pillow over her face.
''Are you alright?'' I asked her, sitting on the edge of the bed.
''Yeh.'' she answered, imitating my tone. She uncovered her face and her eyes were red.
''Have you tried meditation, Maya?'' I asked and she giggled. I poked her nose with my finger and she smiled.
''Well, I have, but I haven't succeeded.''
''Want to give it a try?''
''What about the-''
''There's always time for interviews.'' I winked and she sat up, crossing her legs and straighntening her spine.
''You do remember.'' I chuckled
''Close your eyes.'' she did as I told her and I smiled
''Put your finger on your nose.'' I said, stifling a laugh as she did so.
''Now sing La Marseillaise.'' She started humming the melody and I covered my mouth to keep myself from laughing.
''Recite poetry.''
''How doth the little crocodile-''
''How can you remember that so well?'' I asked, confused.
''Wasn't I supposed to be meditating?''
''Yeh. But I got carried away.''
She closed her eyes again and she took a deep breath.
''Now, relax.''
''I missed you.'' she blurted out and I chuckled
''So did I'' I responded. I placed my hands on each side of her face, locking her in place and sung I need you in a hushed voice. She laughed a little and I leant my forehead against hers.
''The storm's almost over.'' she said, glancing at the window.
''And we'll have to go'' I added and her face dropped.
''We'll come back though, we're not leaving Paris yet, Maya.'' I told her, trying to make her feel better.
''We have to watch a Hitchcock movie before we go. '' I added and she laughed. I twirled a strand of her hair around my finger and she watched me.
''You know who you're interviewing next, don't you?'' I said and she nodded.
''If it makes you feel any better, we came back because I dreamt of you.'' she seemed to consider this for a second, and she smiled. She kissed my cheek and got off the bed, opening the door for me.
''Remind me to interview you again before you leave.'' she whispered as I got out of the room, laughing.
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Paul's POV
''You're up Paul.'' George told me as he entered the living room. He gave me a small nod and a warm smile. I was feeling nervous, like I was starting over again, tingling with anticipation and curious to know what would happen. I walked up the steps slowly and I opened the door, she was on the bed, singing loudly and moving her hands in the air. I cleared my throat, she looked at the door and a lazy grin marked her face.
''Hello Paulie.'' she slurred
She's drunk. Guess she could not handle Norman.
''Hello, love.'' I told her, but the word love felt strange in my mouth, had it been applied to many other meaningless birds.
''Hurry up, I've got to interview lovely lovely Paul McCartney.'' she said sarcastically, giggling occasionally. She motioned for me to sit down and I did. She sat up, wobbling a little and she grabbed hold of the notebook and pen that were resting on the bedside table.
''Name?''
''James Paul McCartney.'' I told her and she snorted. I could see her writing in a messy way, not following the lined paper as she was obviously drunk and making a mess out of my name.
''Jimmy Paul McChlarmy.'' she giggled and I scowled at the use of Jimmy's name
''Tell me about your girlfriends, Paul, darling.'' she said boldly, crossing her legs and placing her hands neatly on her knees, like a lady.
''There's been a few birds.'' I told her, embarrassed, but she shrugged exaggeratedly
''Of course there's been a few.'' I heard her whisper
''Now, Paul, tell me, what are you doing here?''
''We came to see you.''
''We, who?''
''George, John, Ringo and me.'' she snorted again
''I hate you, you know?'' she added frankly, smiling
''You don't, not really.'' I told her confidently
''Oh but I do. I despise you in every way.'' she slurred the a in way, making it sound like '' waaaaaaay''
''Did you really miss me, Maya?'' I suddenly asked, trying to take advtange in case she talked honestly when she was drunk.
''Every day.'' she sighed ''Je suis une conne. ''
''I'm sorr-'' I began to say but she interrupted me:
''Do you know what angers me the most? That you stand in front of me, unashamed when if it weren't for George's magical reminiscence you wouldn't be here, or remember my existence.''
''That's not true. I couldn't come.'' I defended myself
''Two years Paul, two years. You couldn't even write.''
''I couldn't.''
''I hate you.''
''No.''
''Shut up, I do.'' she said, her voice suddenly breaking as she began to cry. I attempted to brush the tears off of her cheek but she flinched away from my touch. I edged closer to her, trying to hold her and stop her. She moved away and I sighed. She suddenly jumped beside me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders as she started singing very off key.
''THE ANSWER MY FRIEND, IS BLOWIN' IN THE WIND. BLOWIN' IN THE WIND'' The sight of her drunk was so familiar, no matter how wrong that sounded, that I smiled. She wasn't cold Maya who tried avoiding me, she was herself. She stood up, swayed a little and collapsed on the floor.
''Maya.'' I said and she groaned in response
''Why do you have to make things harder for me.'' I tried asking but she started snoring.
Oh for fuck's sake. Someone's angry. How can I get her back if she's drunk? What did you do last time? Get her high? No, you twat.You took care of her when she was high.Do you think she's still the same though? Look at her.
