She's Leaving Home - Paul McCartney x Reader

20

The clock ticks loudly, and I watch it's hand which counts seconds passing move rhythmically. It seems unfair how life can go on as normal for everyone but me. I desperately long for a cigarette, but of course I don't have one due to me being pregnant.

After 20 minutes of staring at a clock; I decide to move. I stand up; my knees cracking. I cringe at the sound, but head to the kitchen sink to splash cold water on my face. I grip the kitchen counter; my knuckles white. It's about 6pm; but both John and Paul have gone to bed.

I decide that I'm going to talk to Paul. At this rate; I wouldn't be surprised if he was to break up with me here and now, but we have to talk it out. I walk to his door, and it's firmly shut. The door is simple and painted white; I find myself thinking comparing the simplicity of the door to the complexity that is my life at the moment.

I force myself to knock before I can convince myself to back away and head back to uni. No reply. I knock again, and with a grunt coming from the other side of the door (which I presume is a welcome to his bedroom) I open the door and linger in the doorway, not brave enough to step inside. Paul is staring out of his window; his back to me. He's hunched over and is smoking. He says nothing.

'Paul?'

Still silence.

'Please, can we talk? About everything?'

I see him sigh, he briskly opens the window and throws the cigarette out of it impatiently before swinging his body round to face me limberly. He still looks upset; but he also looks pissed off in an uninterested sort of way. He looks at me for a few moments, before tilting his head while frowning; gesturing for me to speak.

'I just want you to know; I wouldn't have told you that you were the dad if I knew you weren't. I only realised after I said'

Paul nods slowly, looking to the floor. Once again; I start to cry. When he hears me sniffle I see him scrunch up his eyes. I feel that he wants to be annoyed with me; but he can't be. I looks up at me,

'So, What now?'

I shake my head, confused,

'What do you mean?'

He chokes on his words slightly,

'You're- you're pregnant with my... best friends' child, and you expect me to be fine with that?'

'No, Paul. I don't.'

'Well you want me to raise the child, no?'

'Of course I do but-'

'Nancy, I can't'

I take a step back,

'What? I thought you wanted to raise a family with me'

'Yes- a family where the children are actually mine.'

'Paul this isn't fair'

'Why not? You were the one who shagged two men in a week while your boyfriend at home awaited your return acting all cutesy and saying "oh I do feel bad for my Thomas!" even though you quite obviously couldn't care less, got pregnant and is playing all innocent and crying for help. Get a fucking grip, Nancy. This is all your fault'

He points a finger at me; scrutinisingly. I scoff. I'd never seen Paul act this way before; I understand that he's hurt, but there's no reason for being horrible as he is. He realises how he's acting is wrong as soon as the words leave his lips, and stands up to come over to me and apologise; but I've heard enough.

I leave his room and head to John's room; Paul following closely behind,

'Nance, please! I didn't mean it! I'm just-'