Pretty Boy | mcharrison

ii

"Morning Paul," John hummed, dragging his feet down the hallway, a towel clenched in his fist. "I'll be a while, don't mind me."

Paul smiled softly and moved to the side, allowing a grumbling John to make his way to the bathroom door. In the time that it would take John to shower and silently plan his arguments with Mimi, Paul decided to make his way downstairs to see what Mimi was cooking for breakfast that day. From the corner of the last set of stairs, Paul was able to see Mimi with the same scowl John always had gripping a broom to push her cats away from the kitchen. Paul smiled as he heard Mimi muttering to the cats who had a knack for sleeping upon the counter as if they could understand her. Surely, however, the bristles of the broom seemed to make a point to them since one by one the cats began to emerge from the kitchen and find a new place to lounge in the living room.

"Good morning Mimi," Paul smiled, stopping to stroke the fur of each cat before meeting Mimi's gaze. "Sleep well?"

"Morning Paul," Mimi said in her usual strict tone, though today's hello had some form of sweetness trickling through her message. "Did you let John in the shower? You know the boy takes too long to shower. Might as well go into the yard to hose yourself down!"

Paul smiled at the remark and squeezed Mimi's shoulder in affection, looking for the kettle to fix himself a cup of tea for him and anyone who would want some. Today was going to be a good day. He had spent months practically begging John to be able to go out one day with Cynthia to buy more clothes that would suit 1976 and not 1962. After months and months of begging from both ends, John finally decided to give into Paul and Cynthia's pleads and allowed for a "girls night" to take place for the two of them. Paul couldn't have been happier to have John's blessing for one. It was rather dangerous for Paul to even be seen outside in his town, the risk of a jumping occurring or even death was always a possibility when Paul set foot outside of the Lennon home.

"John!" Paul turned around to see that Mimi was making her way to the singular bathroom in the three-person home. There was a grunt and Paul bit back a smile. Here it was: the iconic Lennon-Smith bickering that made his days millions of times better.

With Mimi standing off, holding her robe together with one hand and the other opening the bathroom door to discover John brushing his teeth while steam made its way out of the bathroom, John stood squinting until his eyes appeared closed, trying his best to keep up with Mimi's scolding words as the topic changed from taking too long in the bathroom to being ungrateful to "Where the hell are your blasted glasses, John? You know we had to pay a lot of money just to be able to buy you those new ones after you lost the other pair! You know how much..." and on went the wonderous bickering that only Mimi Smith could conjure.

Paul let out a hushed giggle, gasping softly as one of Mimi's kittens curled around his legs, butting its head against Paul's shin. "Well, my dear," Paul smiled and walked back into the kitchen to turn off the stove and grab a cup from Mimi's cupboard. The kettle was already screaming, Paul's signal to get his cup ready. Strolling over to the sink, he turned the knob of the radio that sat at the ledge of the window peering out into the yard.

Settling upon a station playing England's top hits, Paul turned the volume up when he heard the chorus of "Bennie and the Jets." Along with Elton John's piano, Paul hummed along to the song while he planned out how today was going to go. Today he would hopefully be getting his hair done as best as Cynthia could, he couldn't stand looking as shaggy as a sheepdog. Nevermind the haircut, however, today Paul would finally be getting the change of clothing that he needed in order to fit the look that he has always wanted since he could remember. He could finally be the pretty boy that older men coo at, the pretty boy that gets mistaken for a hippy, the pretty boy that breaks hearts before he could bat a delicate eyelash. He would be the boy who men would walk over water for.

Simply because Paul was the prettiest boy to ever step a manicured toe in Liverpool's streets for the time to come.