The Beatles Imagines

I cant tell you 'McLennon'

Hello my lovely followers, I'm so sorry I haven't posted in so long, I've been dealing with some mental health issues, plus with the whole pandemic. But I wrote some mclennon. So why not share it with all of you.
Thank you for being patient with me.
Peace and love

As they all sat, taking a break from the music session that happened earlier. Paul couldn't stop staring at John, it wasn't that he had any reason so stare at the man, no. But he just liked to stare at him, everything about John made Paul tingle all over. Paul didn't seem to notice that Ringo caught him staring until he Ringo slowly crept over to the dazed Paul, leaning in and asking who he was looking at. Paul, holding onto his chest screeching loudly as he threw himself away from Ringo, that Ringo, always causing Paul to almost have multiple heart attacks daily. "Fuck, Ringo, could you not do that?." Paul faintly whispered as he looked around making sure no one seen, but nope. Everyone seen, including John, standing laughing leaning over George as they both shared a good laugh. "You're a bastard." Paul groaned in annoyance, rolling his eyes at Ringo before standing to his feet. Legs wobbling, as he walked away from the band. 
Paul was angry, sad, embarrassed, he didn't want John to see him get scared or even caught staring at him. But Ringo, just had to open his big mouth huh? "I'm done, I'm not finishing the recording session." Paul mumbled to himself trying to find his car keys. "Where the fuck did I put my keys?!" He shouted to himself as he rummaged through everyone's belongings. Paul had enough, throwing himself down on the empty, quite dirty couch. Slumping into the soft fabric, sighing deeply, Paul didn't want to be here. He just got caught staring at fucking John Lennon, who is in fact married to a beautiful women by the name of Cynthia Lennon, along with having a son with his wife, Julian Lennon. John wasn't queer, John was straight, straighter then a line.
"Ugh, why am I like this?" Paul asked himself, running his long fingers through his semi greasy black hair.
"Paul." The voice echoed through the room as Paul's eyes widened, he didn't look up, he stared at the ground. He knew exactly who it was, John himself coming and interrupting Paul and his self doubting time. "Uh, I'm sorry to bother you, what are you doing in here?" John's voice sounded concerning, making Paul cringe slightly moving uncontrollably in his spot. "Paul, answer me, now. Please." John's footsteps came closer to Paul, standing right in front of him.
Paul, cried, crying hard. He's never cried like this. His tears staining the dirty white floor, his whimpers and sniffles is all you could hear in the small abandoned room. "Shit, Paul, Jesus. what's wrong?"." John slowly watched Paul, his best friend crying alone in there resting room. "I-I can't John." Paul's voice was quiet, well rested, his body slumped in sadness. John sighed, moving over to Paul and resting his hand on his back, Paul jolted but relaxed quickly. "Paul, tell me. What's going on?" John whispered leaning onto Paul's shoulder, it was quiet bony. John didn't care, he cared about his best mate, crying alone.

"John, this all of this. God, I can't fucking tell you what I'm thinking. You'll tell everyone. I know it." Paul's voice broke as he spoke his last sentence, John winced, at Paul's remark to him. "Paul, just tell me what's going on." John spoke loudly, trying not to get annoyed with Paul. "John, please leave me alone." Paul mumbled slightly pushing John off his shoulder, John had enough. Standing up, John walked over to the old white door locking it and turning his heel towards Paul. Arms crossed, he frowned. "I'm not leaving, until you tell me what the fuck is happening to you." Paul rolled his eyes, wiping the tears away with his suit jacket. "Fine, but please don't get mad or weirded out by what I have to say to you, okay?" Paul looked at John, patting the couch motioning him to come sit down.
John listened, walking over to the younger band mate as he sat down. Hands on his thighs, body stiff, nervous at what Paul is going to tell him. "Look, John. I know you're married, especially to a beautiful women." Paul started, John was watching him. Eyes wide, what is Paul saying? John thought, his heart was racing ten times faster then it should be. "Okay, what are you getting at Paul?" John asked scooting closer to Paul who watched him curiously, Paul frowned. "This is what I mean, okay. John, I'm just going to get straight to the point, I'm queer. I like men, I've liked men since I was in high school. And if I'm honest with ye, I like you. Like, I think you're very attractive and good looking, just hot in general. I don't want you to think of me any different please, just think of me as Paul McCartney your band mate." Paul took a deep breathe, sighing as he looked into John's eyes. His eyes widened, John was staring back. A shocked expression slapping him in the face as he didn't speak, just stared at Paul. "Fuck, John just speak please!" Paul shouted jumping to his feet as he started to pace the room. John followed him with his eyes.