Penny Lane's Getting Better (John Lennon/Paul McCartney x reader)

15 minutes earlier...

Paul adjusts his shirt vigorously, muttering to himself. He couldn't believe how John acted. He couldn't understand the gall he had. He had to talk to him. John should be there soon. Anytime. Paul would wait.

"Sir, can you help me?" Paul forgot where he was for a moment. He stood outside the train station, eyes glossing over the brick walls and decrepit structure.

Paul finally looked over at the woman who spoke to him. Her outward appearance was aged, sullen eyes, and a sunken face. Her hair, which once was dark, is now gray in the light.

"Yes, of course, ma'am. What do you need?" Paul asks, meeting the woman's gaze.

"I can't get my luggage out of my car," she says, pointing to the open trunk. Paul walks over, reaching for some of the luggage. He pulls out a couple of bags for the woman. She smiles brightly like a sweet grandmother.

"Is this all ma'am?" He asks, setting them by her and closing the trunk.

"OH, thank you, dear. Any girl would be lucky to have such a sweet boy helping them." The woman says. He thinks about you and then John.

"Yes, any girl..." Paul mutters. The woman raises her eyebrow.

"What's on your mind, dear?" she asks. Paul feels bad that the woman saw he was feeling conflicted. He didn't want to project his issues onto her.

"It's complicated. My friend group is having issues..." he explains, leaning against her car.

"Well, spill it, dear. I don't have all day," the woman croaks. She reminds him of the women who would spread gossip while their kids played. He scratches his neck, brushing his brown hair out of his face.

"I like someone and I think they know I like them...I think everybody knows I like them. Well, except for one person." He shakes his head, picking up the luggage. The woman starts walking closer to the station as he carries the luggage for her.

"Why don't you ask them out?" she asks, waddling along.

"They're dating someone," he replies, nearing the closest platform. He hoped the poor woman didn't have to walk too far.

"Don't let that stop you from telling them how you feel, dear." she smiles at him. Paul can't help but crack a smile at her.

"That's a little bold for my taste," he says.

"If it's not bold for me, then it's not bold for you," she replies, chuckling to herself. Paul laughs with her as they pass a couple of platforms. Finally, the two stopped. He helped the woman with her luggage onto the train.

"Thank you for the lovely chat." Paul smiles at her.

"Have a lovely day, dear." The woman sits down on the train as Paul gets off. He waves her off and continues looking for John.

He knew John was heading out with the band today. He would be on his way by now. He walks back towards the woman's car, which sits on the side of the road like the rest.

Paul sits on a bench, searching the crowds of people for his friend-he thinks they're still friends-appears.

He thinks about you and John. He thinks about George and Ringo. He thinks of everything he's done wrong. Everything he feels the guilt and embarrassment for.

Paul closes his eyes for a minute, his hands drum on his legs. He blinks a couple of times before noticing something is off. Then, he felt the hollow feeling in his pocket.

"Hey!" he shouts, watching someone run off with some money he had in his pocket. He jumps off the bench and runs after the person into the street. He heard a loud sound, someone yelling, what was it?