Beatles smuts and fluffs;)

Barre Chords (Paul)

I sighed in frustration as I carefully plucked the strings of my Fender guitar. I couldn't get the right sound, and playing a Barre chord seemed almost impossible. My stomach tightened with embarrassment at the though that someone could be listening, and perhaps playing in school wasn't a good idea. I tried to get a secluded spot during our lunch hour, finding one behind a building which had a tree, with a small patch of flowers.

I sighed again and placed my guitar gently to the side. I leaned my head against the tree as my fingers fiddled with a small flower's pedals. My eyes turn to my guitar, almost taunting me.
No, I have to try.
Immediately, I picked my guitar up and tried again. I started with an easy one first, playing a slower version of Jailhouse Rock. I loved Elvis, he was a huge inspiration for me learning the guitar.

"Elvis huh?"
I jump harshly at the voice, and my head whipped in the direction. The boy who had said it looked almost equally shocked, as his eyes widened.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." He paced over to me, hands in school uniform pockets.
He sat down next to me with a grunt.
I recognized him. He was in my athletics class although I do remember him not doing much.
"So you play guitar?" He questions.
"Yeah," I reply quietly.
"Ah, so she speaks!" He laughs, and it's a nice laugh, enough to make me smile.
"I'm Paul, Paul Mccartney." He says, sticking out his hand. I take it, replying,
"Y/N L/N."
What I thought was going to be a normal handshake actually turned out to him kissing my knuckles softly, lips barely touching my skin. I blushed lightly and pursed my lips with a bashful smile.
"I heard you had some trouble with the barre, if you want I can show you."
My face reddened at learning that he was indeed listening.
"I mean, if you want to," I stuttered.
"Of course, if a pretty bird like you is gonna learn guitar, she should learn properly." He said with a wink. This boy couldn't stop making me smile.
He laughs sweetly and takes my guitar in hand.
"I think you're not pressing hard enough on the fret," he inquired, glancing up at me to make sure I was listening, which I was.
"I'm pressing as hard as I can," I whined.
"But your finger has to be in the right place. Here, put your first finger," he held up his finger to me, then placed it on the first fret.
"Right here, okay? And put your other three fingers right here, here and..here." He showed me, and my eyebrows raised when he strummed, it sounded beautiful.
He handed me the guitar, and I placed my fingers where he told me. I strummed, and although it didn't sound nearly as good as him, it sounded better than anything I'd ever played. I smiled widely, looking up at him.
"There ya go! Atta girl!" He praised, making me laugh.
"You have to build up strength in your hand so it sounds better," he paused for a moment.
" If you want, of course, YN, I could teach you how to play. It would be my honor and we could meet here every day, if you can, that is." He stumbled over the last few words.
I though about it for a second, then turned to him.
"I'd love to, Paul."

For the next hour, he was teaching me all the things he knew about guitar. Days turned into weeks and those into months, until we reached the end of the year.
"We can still practice every day in the summer, I want to see you." Paul said, on our last day. We were sitting next to the tree, like when we first met.
"What about your new band, Paul? John would want you there." I asked, looking into his eyes.
"Im still going to do it, I can do both. I have to have time for you." He said.
He picked a flower from the ground, inspecting it. He turned to me with a small smile, asking shyly,
"May I?"
I nodded and he brushed my hair back, placing the flower behind my ear. I looked into his hazel brown eyes as he did this, and his eyes met mine.
I didn't realize how close our faces were until he closed the gap between us. His lips were soft and they tasted sweet. My eyes closed and the kiss was over as quickly as it had started.
I opened my eyes and Paul's face was still close to mine.
"Y/N, you are something special." He whispered, chuckling softly. He kissed me again, this time with more confidence.
—
I could play the guitar very well, all thanks to that boy. We spent the next to years almost inseparable. I was his and he was mine. I felt so happy for him when he told me he was going to Hamburg, although there was a twinge of sadness. He kissed me goodbye, even showing me how special I was, for we took each other's virginity.
"Don't stop playing, for me, Y/N. Yeah? I love you." Were the last words I remember him saying.
As his band grew in popularity, I saw him less and less in person and more on television and merchandise. I play still, every day. And the thought of Yesterday is what drove me. I fell in love again, but I always had a special place in my heart for that boy, James Paul Mccartney.