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ꕥꕥꕥ
You and Paul had been pining over each other for God knows how long at this point. You knew you liked him. He knew he liked you. But you were both oblivious to the others feelings.
Every time he looked at you, you felt your stomach do flips, but in your mind, he only thought of you as a friend.
Gazing into your eyes, Paul couldn't help but notice how his heart always made an attempt to escape his chest. The Beatles are supposed to be officially unattached. You stop that, he always told himself.
Everyone around you was impatiently waiting for one of you to finally confess. John was about to take it upon himself when he noticed Paul writing a letter one day.
At seeing the words, "Dear Y/N", John grinned before swiftly walking away.
Paul penned about twenty-seven letters to you, each one failing to meet his approval before he crumpled it and threw it in the bin.
You're sitting on your sofa one Sunday when a letter comes through the letter box. At the sight, you quirk an eyebrow.
"The post doesn't come on Sunday," you mumble to yourself before retrieving the letter. It only has your name and address, with no return address or any indication of who sent it.
"Dear Y/N," it reads, "As I write this letter, the sun is shining through my window, bathing my room in golden sunlight. I know you find that kind of stuff poetic, so I wanted to tell you. I was thinking of you and immediately wanted to share a secret with you. I'm in love with you! Please meet me at St. John's Gardens straightaway, so I may finally tell you in person. Love, your secret admirer. P.S. I love you."
You read the letter three times, looking for anything to identify the mysterious author, before grabbing your coat and heading out.
The Gardens are quiet; most people are spending their Sunday either in church or with their families.
As you look around, you see him from the corner of your eye: Paul, sitting on a bench, looking as if he might pass out from fright at any moment.
It's just coincidence, you tell yourself before Paul spots you.
"Y/N!" he shouts before running up to you.
"Paul!" you greet. "Are you meeting someone here too?"
He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. "You could say that. I left a love letter for a bird earlier and I'm waitin' for her here."
"That's funny. I received a letter earlier from a secret admirer telling me to meet them here."
Paul watches with a cheeky grin as you realize what had happened.
"You?"
Paul nods. "I thought I'd never be able to tell ye, but I couldn't hold it in any longer. I love you, Y/N. You have no idea what you do to me just by bein' you." He takes your hand and rests it on his chest; you can feel how nervous he must be in the way his heart races against your palm.
You blush with a smile before looking down, unable to speak.
"Y/N, please say something," Paul worries after a moment.
