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“I close my eyes, only for a moment and the moments gone. All my dreams, pass before my eyes with curiosity”
It had been years since The Beatles breakup in 1970, 31 years exactly. Paul had been so busy trying to get his new poetry collection out to the public that he hadn't had much time to focus on the whereabouts of his former bandmates, though he had heard some things. Ringo was promoting the release of his triple live album, and John…he honestly got real bloody lazy since 1980. It was mainly George who took up most of his thoughts, he always had. George had been diagnosed with throat and lung cancer and he had made a couple efforts to visit but George wasn't all that happy with Paul, so he gradually stopped visiting him after 1999. It was understandable, truly, with how they treated each other near the end of 1969. It strangely made his heart hurt, knowing everything happening between him and George. It seared into his mind, burning into him to the point he could barely concentrate. That was until he got that inevitable phone call.
The phone call rang in the middle of the day as Paul was brainstorming new songs. He sighed as he sat up, moving over to the phone and picking it up, though he didn't expect the voice that came through.
Paul's eyebrows furrowed as he heard George’s voice through the phone, hoarse, but coherent. “Hey Paul,” he started softly, “how are you, my friend?” his tone caught Paul a bit off guard, stirring a warm feeling in his chest that he decided to ignore. “Im alright, why have you called?” George took a second before answering, sighing slightly. “I wanted to see if you would be free to come visit soon, given my condition.” On his end he was looking away, as if embarrassed by this request. This made Paul stutter for a moment in confusion, “but, the last time I saw you you seemed, well, displeased with me. Are you sure-?” George responded quickly and in a sense of somewhat urgency, “ Yes . Yes. please. I would like to see you. I was just in a bad mindset but yes, I would like you to come visit.” Paul couldn't help the heat pooling in his cheeks as he smiled slightly, “alright then, George, how does early tomorrow sound?” George hummed at this, but nodded slightly as if Paul could see him through the phone, “yeah, thats fine, i’ll see you then” Paul smiles softly as he says his goodbyes, hanging up and breathing deeply, dismissing the heat in his chest and cheeks as just excitement. For some reason the Frank Sinatra vinyl he had been playing wasn't helping.
Soon, tomorrow came and he set off to his vacation house where George was staying which, thankfully, wasn't too far away. Though, when he got there he took a moment to stand outside the door, taking a deep breath. It was hard seeing George in this condition, but he also wanted to be there for his best friend. With a deep breath he opened the door with one hand as he held flowers in his other. George couldn't help but smile slightly at the sound of the door opening and even more when he sat up slowly and saw Paul at the doorway of his room. Paul smiled back at him, moving over to George's side.
“Hello, my dear friend, how are you feeling?” Paul places the flowers on his nightstand, sitting on the edge of the bed next to George, Paul’s fingers lingering dangerously close to his hand. George laughs lightly, the look in Paul’s soft eyes making heat pool up in his chest. “Im..alright. Im doing okay.” he glances down at Paul’s hand, intertwining his fingers with Paul’s slightly. This makes Paul’s breath hitch as he attempts to keep the conversation normal. Because this was normal. Two friends just…holding hands. “You- uhm..im..very glad about that” he chuckles lightly as he looks away after his obvious screw up. He was so nervous he could feel his face drain of color when George speaks up again, giggling, “are you alright Paul? You seem quite pale” he smiles softly as he moves his hand to fully grasp Paul’s, making Paul look at him again. “Maybe its too cold..” he mentions with a smirk as he lightly tugs Paul’s hand, moving him gently to lay down on his side with him. “Would this help?” he said, holding both of Paul's hands in his own as Paul’s cheeks heated up and his body tensed, unable to look George in the eye.
Paul eventually warmed up to it, wrapping his arms around George in the middle of him, recalling a memory of the two of them. They talked for hours while Paul held George, their legs slowly becoming tangled as Paul rubbed circles into George's
back, being so gentle it was as if he was holding glass, because to him, he was. So they stayed like that, sometimes in silence, and sometimes talking about anything that came to mind, eventually ending with George asking Paul to stay the night. Though, that night turned into many nights and days of cuddling, cooking and talking. But Paul could tell George was slowly getting worse, even if he tried to act more chipper, his face would always fail him. George’s eyebags were getting heavier, his memory was getting worse, and the light was slowly leaving his eyes. Paul hated how much he noticed all the change in his best friend, it tore at him and caused an ache in his chest.
One night, he was laying with George and as he started to fall asleep he could feel George’s breathing start to slow, but he convinced himself it was just George falling asleep…until it stopped. It took him second to register it but once he did he sprung awake, quickly feeling George for any breathing or pulse, but he found none. He could feel his breathing quicken as he dug his face into George’s neck, shoulders shaking as tears started spilling from his eyes. “no..no no ...please dont leave.” his chest heaved as he let the words spill from his mouth, “not yet. Please please George. I love you.. please ..” He clung to George like begging would bring him back. Back to him. But all he could do was hold George’s lifeless body in his arms, not ready to let go.
Paul cried himself to sleep that night.
“Now don't hang on, nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky. It slips away, and all your money wont another minute buy”
Early the next morning he sat outside talking with paramedics and officers about what had happened, trying to remain collected as he thought back to George in his arms. It took a while of questions, but eventually they were satisfied and left him to his own accord. Even after they left he stood on that porch for a while, eyes glassed over as he stared at the ground. Soon he snapped out of his thoughts and walked back inside, though closing the door behind him and looking into the bedroom where George one was only caused his chest to tighten once more, leaving him wandering over to the bedroom and leaning on the door frame, staring at the bed. It didn't take long before he gave in and fell to the floor, hands holding his stomach as he let out choked up tears. He didn't know what hurt more; the fact he would have to live his life without him, or the sting of pent up emotions he didn't feel confident enough to voice while he was still there, in his arms.