/\ June 15, 1961 /\
/\ Thursday, 10:31 pm/\
Song: Oh My Love
By: John Lennon
"Would ye mind telling me more about yer vision?"
Paul inquired, him and I meandering the desolate, leaden pavements of Liverpool.
"Well, there's not much to say really. I've been like this for as long as I can remember."
My elevated shoulders articulated my indifferent discern, opposing Paul's doleful, crestfallen woebegone.
His brows puckered, meticulously surveying my every advancement. He endeavored to perceive any physiognomy on my restrained, unembellished face, but with no luck.
I was indefatigable on scanning the panorama before me, never once glancing abroad for I'd snivel and mewl about my hapless adversities.
Paul never in a thousand years merit to convey any of my harrowing troubles.
It was perspicuous I desired not to debate the issue, for Paul's attentive gape shifted to a tenebrous whereabout afar.
He nimbly hastened toward it, humanly seizing my sylphlike digits in his, splicing them together while swiftly hauling me behind him.
Initially Paul's deed stupefied my habitual bustle self, becoming the derivation of the myriad of times I tottered and blundered on my own two feet as he escorted me to wherever his locale was set.
He ushered me to the rooftop of Abbey Road Studios, and once there Paul situated his lithe body on the bleak, gelid surface beneath him.
He patted the exterior neighboring himself beckoning me to lay alongside him, which I gleefully did.
"Once and awhile I come up here to think."
Paul veered his head toward my diminutive anatomy, bearing the mass of it in his palm. His countenance was serene, his tone dulcet, apprising me of how candidly tranquil he really felt.
"I can see why."
My ingenuous remark garnered a bijou twinkle from Paul provoking a broad simper on my lips, feeling as if I were a child in a candy shop.
My utterance wasn't vaguely mendacious.
If I ever encountered the prospect to lodge on that rooftop for perpetuity, I'd do it. Each day when the daylight went to slumber I'd study the gleaming smidgens of heaven, anticipating that one day I'd be amid them.
"The stars are one of the only things I can truly see."
Paul magnanimously champed at the festering hull of his nether lip, along with a trail of groomed locks softening after the touch of his palm.
"I don't have to worry about what color they are or how much I'm missing, because they're all right there beaming their beautiful lights back at me. They chose to shine in a shade I'm able to see, and I thank them for that."
He exhaled, deriving my intelligible but potent assertion. I could tell he felt compassionate and very solicitous for me, which I immensely valued.
"What else can ye see? Y'know, like em..."
Paul then inaugurated to graze the rear of his neck abrading it benignantly, perturbed on what to comment next. I let free a muffled chortle, scanning how prepossessing Paul appeared when feeling brittle and neurotic.
"Yes I know what you mean."
I sardonically percussed my chin, pondering on the topic at hand.
"I can see pianos, pandas, Dalmatians, hmm...snow..."
My voice chained off, regarding into Paul's aesthetic hazel hues, fostering a balmy sense from his lulling, quixotic stare. His astral gape made me feel as if I where the occulting stars themselves.
"Is everything alright Paul?"
His unmerciful, winsome grin told me he was, along with the vermilion tincture on his endearing rotund cheeks.
"Pardon me for saying this but, ye are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
His proclamation seized me inattentively, perceiving the toasty sense I had procured promptly all throughout my svelte figure.
My timbre was doting, my beam vast, appreciative and brimful of elation from his accolade.
"It's just not fair!"
He curried his lissome fingers through his disheveled mane afresh, this occasion in a bulk matter.
"Ye should see the world in the same shades I do, and it's not fair ye can't. If I could switch visions with ye, I'd do it in a heartbeat."
I nibbled the internal of my cheek in a forbearing mechanism, conjecturing if I should apprise Paul on a subject I should've broached when I first encountered him,
but only implied at.
I inhaled an almost interminable, fathomless respiration, quivering away any vacillations attained.
He deserved to know.
"The thing is Paul..."
I outstretched my sylphlike arm, secreting a fiber of Paul's downy burnt umber hued pelt beyond the derivation of his hearing, relishing the feeling of the filament being intertwined with my lean fingers for just a few moments.
I timorously beamed, finally divulging what he should've known from the start.
"I can see you."
AN//: So you're probably wondering where I've been this past week, and why I haven't updated in 3.9273847 years. It's because of jail. Anyways, I think I'm going to do weekly updates instead of every couple of days, just because I don't have as much time as I used to have to write *cries* Buuuuut yeahhh. I hope you're enjoying the story so far. ❤️
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Colorblind <> Paul McCartneyFanfiction
"You're in color." I stated breathlessly. I wished to know why this was happening. Why here, why now, why him. But my questions where left unanswered, and the inky abyss I called a world had now a splash of color. And I hadn't a clue how.