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It was like just like another day at the EMI Studios. The band were rehearsing before they record, like always. John playing his guitar, George still testing the strings, Ringo was sitting on his drummer stool, and Paul holding his bass, all while staring at Ringo. His eyes follow Ringo with every simple movement he took. The way his hands grip his drumsticks, the way he sits, and the way his eyes looks at George, John, then at Paul.
Paul quickly looks away once they made less than a second eye contact, quickly sitting and holding his bass properly. He didn't even realize that the lads were ready. He only realized when Ringo looked at him, as his eyes were so focused on him that he didn't realize the other lads were looking at him.
"You alright there, Macca? Distracted much?" John looked at Paul with a chuckle.
Paul just rolled his eyes. "Let's just get on to it."
The practice went on just fine, until Paul suddenly stopped, making everyone else stop. "Ringo, that's not how you do it." Paul suddenly spoke out. Ringo looked at him with his eyebrows furrowed. "How so?"
Paul sighed and stood up, approaching Ringo. "Come on, your hands." Ringo obliged, extending his arms for Paul to grab, and Paul did so, holding his hands to guide him.
"It's more like this..." Paul continued on, still holding Ringo's hand while the shorter lad listened intently, memorizing the beat. In truth, Paul is just using this as an excuse to hold Ringo's ringed hands. He always uses this excuse just to hold his hands. It feels nice. His hands feel nice. There's nothing wrong about holding your mate's hands.
"Oh, right, I get it!" Paul reluctantly let go of Ringo's hands, as he looked at the smiling drummer. His heart felt a weird twist every time he saw the older lad smiling. It's wrong to feel like this. Maybe if Ringo were a bird, it won't be wrong. That thought filled Paul with irritation. Why isn't Ringo a bird, instead of a bird?
Paul sighed once more. "I've already told you, y'know. Why didn't you get it in the first place? Idiot." Paul said with his cheeks a bit red. His heart felt another twist when Ringo frowned a bit. He doesn't know why he did that. He feels like if he's too kind towards Ringo, then that'd be queer.
"Sorry, mate..." Ringo muttered, looking back at his drums. "You're always so harsh on 'im, Macca." George spoke out with an eye roll. Paul ignores him and glanced at Ringo one more time, before going back to his bass. Then they all rehearsed again, with Paul focus partly on Ringo. Mostly on Ringo.
After the rehearsal and recording, they all went to their respective rooms. This time, Paul is rooming with Ringo, and he couldn't be happier.
Now, Ringo was laying down on his bed, with Paul smoking a fag while he sits on his own bed, looking at Ringo. "...What're you lookin' at?" Ringo suddenly asked, and Paul realizes that he has been staring. He looks away, brushing it off, despite the faint pink on his cheeks. "Nothin'." He replied with a suck on his fag.
Ringo suddenly got up, leaning towards Paul. "Can I have one?" He asked. Without a word, Paul took one fag and handed it to him. Once it got between his lips, Paul lit up the tip of Ringo's fag with his lighter.
Paul watched Ringo smoke his fag intently. His eyes, his nose, his lips. He thinks they're all beautiful. He'd kill everyone who thought he's the ugliest Beatle if he could. Besides himself, Paul thought Ringo is the most attractive Beatle. What's wrong with appreciating a mate, anyways? He wants to tell that to Ringo, that he's beautiful, that he wants to kiss him, that he wants to be his lover.
That thought disgust him. Ringo would never love a disgusting fag like him. Maybe he would, if Paul was a bird. Or if Ringo was a bird.
"...You disgust me." Paul suddenly blurted out, surprised by his own words. He was meant to talk about himself, how he's the one that's disgusting, not Ringo. But there's no going back, at least for Paul. "...What?" Ringo furrowed his eyebrows furrowed, looking surprised, confused, and also a hint of fear. Paul noticed it, getting confused himself.
"...It's nothing." Paul said, eventually putting out his cigarette, and laying down on his bed, covering himself with his blanket as he faced away from Ringo.
Ringo stared at Paul, with hurt and sadness on his expression stated clearly. After a while, Ringo let out a huff and turned off the lights, laying down on his own bed, facing Paul's back.
The next day, Paul and Ringo didn't talk as much as usual to each other. Paul always looks at Ringo with an annoyed expression all the time for no apparent reason, and Ringo felt hurt and confused. He doesn't know what he did. Is it because of the drums yesterday? Or did he find out?
George and John obviously notice the distance between the drummer and the bassist. John knows what's up, but George just thought they had a fight.
Later, at one of their breaks, Paul and John stayed inside the studio, while Ringo and George were out to take a smoke break.
John looks at Paul who stares at Ringo's drum set. Anyone who looks at his face would immediately know that his eyes are full of longing and a hint of regret.
John snickered. "Look at the guilty lad." He teased, making Paul look at him with an annoyed expression. "Sod off, Lenny." John let out a laugh, slinging an arm across Paul's shoulders.
"You did something to Ritchie, didn't ya? He looks like a sad puppy the whole day." Paul huffed. "Called him disgusting."
"Why?"
"I didn't mean it. I meant it for myself."
"Oh you're dafter than I thought, Paulie!" John laughed again, patting Paul's back. "Ritchie's a good lad, you know that. You should apologize, shouldn't ya?"
Paul pondered for a moment, before sighing once more. "S'pose I should." He earned another pat on his back, a much softer one.
Meanwhile, Ringo and George were smoking outside, leaning against a wall nearby the studio. Ringo was smoking a fag, but George isn't. After a while, Ringo looks at George, letting out a huff of smoke. "Odd enough for you to refuse a fag." George smiled at him. "I said later. After you tell me what's up between you and Paul."
That earned a sigh from Ringo, as he looked away. "...He's... It's nothing." George sighed, looking forward at the distance. "He probably didn't mean it, y'know. Whatever he did or said."
Ringo looked at George with a raised eyebrow. "And how do you know that?" George let out a chuckle. "We've known each other for years, Ritch. He does that all the time. Usually more often to the people he likes." He teased, making Ringo's cheeks red. "He wouldn't. Not me. We're both blokes."
"Didn't mean it like that, but now I see why you're proper sad." That made Ringo surprised and embarrassed. "S'not like that..." George just reached for his own pack of cigarettes, before taking one and lighting it up after he placed it between his lips.
"Whatever it is, you should go to him."
"What if he doesn't want to?"
"Then go back here. I'm here. But he'd want to."
And suddenly, Paul appeared, looking like he ran to go here. Seeing him, George smirked and left Ringo with Paul, going towards the studio again. Once he left, Paul looked at Ringo, making proper eye contact with him. He stepped forward, looking at Ringo guiltily.
"Ritch."
"Paul."
Paul took a deep breath. "I'm sorry." He said, pausing for a second. "For last night. And yesterday. I didn't mean it..." Paul spoke, looking at Ringo's expression for reassurance. When he found only confusion and surprise, he opened his mouth again.
"The truth is, I..." They both spoke out at the same time.
After a while of silence, Paul spoke again. "I like you. So much, Ritch. I really do." Like is an understatement. Paul is practically in love with him, he wants him, he needs him, he loves him. Not any birds, not any blokes, but Ringo. He feels disgusting for confessing like this. What if Ringo thinks he's disgusting? Then nothing will be the same after this.
"I like you too, Paul." Ringo replied, looking at him with the same amount of love and yearning Paul has for him. They leaned into each other, before sealing each other's lips into a soft, loving kiss. Paul's lips were soft against Ringo's gentle ones, pouring all of their longing and love into each other's lips.
They pulled away after a while. Their faces were red, eyes wide and glossy, staring into each other as if they're the only ones that matters at this moment.
"...You like me, really?"
"I do."
"Why me? You could've chosen any bird, or bloke, but you chose me, the ugly, big-nosed Beatle." Paul felt himself getting angry at that. Those reporters and so-called fans... Paul wrapped his arms around Ringo's waist, comforting him. "You're gorgeous, Ritchie. The most gorgeous bloke I've ever seen. I want you, and only you, Ritchie." Ringo leaned into the hug, hugging Paul back. His heart could burst any moment, hearing Paul's reassuring words. It feels different when Paul says it. It makes him feel a lot of things. They looked into each other's eyes again, now feeling a sense of safety and newfound love.
"I love you, Paul."
"I love you too, Ritchie."
They then kissed for the second time, pouring all their loving to each other.