I Miss You - McLennon AU

12.

Paul had fallen asleep soon after he arrived home, and as soon as he had lay his head on his pillow, he had allowed himself to close his eyes in hopes of sleeping. He had to forget everything that was going on, and sleeping was the best way to forget.

At around 7 o'clock, Paul had been woken up by a knock on his door. At first, he had pictured the knock to have been a part of a dream, but soon found out that it was not. The knocking continued, and Paul was forced awake.

"Come in." He called out, rubbing his eyes as he sat up in his bed.

"Hiya love." A voice spoke as the door opened, and Paul immediately recognised it as his father's.

He had been right in guessing who it was, his father now standing in his doorway with a worried smile. He always had a worried smile on his face when he looked at Paul. The man was holding a bowl, and a glass of water.

"Mike said you didn't feel well, and that you would want to eat upstairs..." Jim smiled, slowly trodding over to Paul's desk and placing the food and drink down carefully.

Immediately remembering his last interaction with Mike, he understood why Mike had said that.

"Did he?" Paul muttered, looking down to his hands.

"Yes." Jim responded, turning to face Paul. "How are you feeling, son? Hot, cold? Woozy? Drowsy-"

"No." Paul shook his head, immediately cutting his fathers train of worry off. He could go on forever sometimes. "I feel better now." He plastered a smile on his face.

He didn't, but he felt like he rarely felt better anymore anyway.

"Of course." The man nodded, though clearly hesitant. "A-And... You would tell me if you didn't feel okay, right?"

"Yes, I would." He attempted to convince the man.

"Because... Well- Well because if something happened to you- I just..." The man's tone took a turn for the worst, and Paul sat up. "God, I don't know what I'd d-do..." He looked as if he was about to cry.

"Hey..." Paul whispered soothingly, rising up to his feet and heading over to his father. "I would tell you... I promise." The man just nodded shakily, before a sob fell from his lips. Paul immediately pulled him into a hug, feeling his heart twist at the sight. "I am okay... I swear, Da'. I had a sleep, and I feel much better."

God, why did Mike have to say that Paul was sick? The truth would have made their father a lot less worried than the idea of Paul being sick.

"You p-promise?" He choked out, and Paul frowned deeply.

"I promise." Paul responded, with urgency. "Look..." The teenager grabbed his fathers hand, moving it up and placing it on his forehead. "Normal, right?"

"Right..." Jim responded, trying to calm his tone.

They stood there in the middle of Paul's room for a few seconds, Paul watching as his father calmed himself down. It was horrible to see, his father breaking down like a child who had just woken up from a bad dream. But Paul was getting used to it, so was Mike for that matter.

After a few short minutes had passed, Paul spoke up once again.

"See? Fine." Paul reassured his father, pointing a finger at his smile. It was a forced smile, but he had to convince Jim somehow.

"Yes." His father responded, with a pitiful laugh. He soon sighed, running a hand through his unwashed hair. "God, I'm sorry... What must your Ma' think of me?" He joked, lightheartedly.

Paul made a false small chuckle, before falling silent. He really didn't want to think about that.

"Anyway... I'll go eat my tea now." Paul changed the subject.

"Yes... Yes of course." Jim nodded. "I-I'll go watch TV."

With a nod from Paul, the man slowly left the room, closing the door behind him.

Paul sighed as soon as the door clicked shut, rising his hands to hold his face. A new obvious feeling of stress flew over him, and he felt a short sob fall from his lips. But he refused to let himself cry.

If he cried, then he would realise that his life was falling apart. He hadn't cried in so long, and recently things had been better, so he liked to say. Mentally he had been feeling well...

Until John.

Paul's hands fell from his face, and his mouth fell open. How could he forget?!

"John!" He whisper-called out, to nobody in particular.

Almost immediately, he rushed over to his bedside draw, pulling the first drawer open. He had to see if the photos were there, he had to find them. He had to see himself with John.

As soon as the draw opened, he lifted up a book, and underneath it was, indeed, the photos.

Paul let out a sigh of relief at the sight. They were there alright, in black and white and fully undamaged. He could see each of the four images perfectly, and as he studied each one yet again he smiled. Until he thought about what had happened before.

The expression on John's face as he said he did not know who John was. The look of sorrow and pity.

But I... Well, I do not know you...

Paul placed the photos on the desk, looking away in grievance. His heart ached at the memory.

A smell took over his nostrils, the smell of soup. He looked over to the still steaming bowl on his desk, and slowly took a few steps towards it. Pulling his desk chair out, he took a seat, and stared into his food longingly.

How?

How on earth was John here and there? Because he had to be there too, right? Otherwise the photos wouldn't exist. If he had never existed in 1955, then those photos would be nothing but a blank strip of plain white.

So they had both existed in 1955... So how were they here? Well, Paul was here because it's his correct timeline, but John?

God, how on earth was John here?!

Could it be like in The Shining? Could John be a reincarnation?

No... And if he was honest, Paul didn't like the idea of John being a man possessed by a hotel who ends up trying to kill his wife and child.

So if Paul was to rule out the reincarnation idea, then what sort of an explanation was left? Was he even real? Did Paul imagine him? Was he turning crazy, like his father?

No, you're not crazy... He was real.

Paul had pinched himself enough times as he watched the boy walk away, and after, to know that he was not imagining John. John was actually there, in 2021, in the rain, walking through Paul's local park.

It was bizarre, it was completely insane, but it happened.

John Lennon was in 2021.

Paul had to find him again... He had to.

The same smell made it's way up Paul's nostrils once more, making the teenager lose his train of thought. Food, he had to eat...

The boy picked up the spoon, and began to eat, trying to trap all of those thoughts in a locked box in the back of his brain so that he could just eat.