Bottles upon bottles, empty and half full, were scattered all over as we stood just inside the door of the suite.

Paul quickly sizing up the room.

Mal sat sullen and tired, glancing up as the door clicked shut, he gave a nod of relief as I was pushed towards our room.

"You're in big trouble" George teased as he walked in from the balcony clutching a rolled, lit ciggie.

"Keep it down, Geo. Everything's fine" Paul keep us on the projectile route towards the bedroom, nothing was going to stop his progress. I baulked and changed direction toward George, grabbing the smoke and inhaling deeply. I coughed and handed it back.

"John's livid, Brian's pissed you took off. Richards snoring. I was upset." George grinned slyly, I gave him a questioning look "You didn't take me!"

"It wasn't high tea, George, she ran. No, she went for stroll. Thats all. Now she's back, let's just talk in the morning" Paul slowly steered me away, George wasn't having any of it.

"Stroll my arse" George crowed "Paulie's got a crush" and I was shoved rudely into the bedroom. The bedroom door now closed, leaving me in darkness. 

I put an ear against the door trying to listen to the muffled and harried conversation taking place on the other side.

"Do not"

"Do too"

"Do not"

What are they eleven!?!

"Do too liar"

"She's my sister, you sick fucker"

"But that's the clincher, ain't it. She's not, is she Paul" George was grinning like a loony, I could feel it.

One of them must have shoved the other as the door shuddered from the collision.

"Go to bed George, this has nothing to do with you or anyone else for that matter" Paul suddenly opened the door and it slammed, innocently of course, into my head.

"Ouch"

"Haha" George pushed past Paul and pulled me up off the floor and into his embrace in one swift movement. "Abigail the eavesdropper, naughty Abigail" George said condescendingly. "John was waiting for you, you know"

"John can go and forever wait in the Seine for all I care"

"Really?" George was now more than interested in the turn in events. "So you've dropped 'im for Paulie then- already"

Paul went to interject and I put a hand over his mouth.

"I haven't dropped anything, John played up and I caught him"

"So, you and Paul......."

"Me and Paul are merely tired and going to bed....separately. Good night George." Disengaging from George, pushed him out of the door and shut it. Effectively shutting Paul and I in.

"I-" Paul started to talk but I was in the bathroom with the door closed before he could get the sentence out.

Hot water cascaded over my scalp. Washing my hair was giving me time to think, to attempt to straighten my mind out.

Then it hit me.

If Paul and I can't function as siblings I have to go, and not home to London either. I don't even think I could go back to Jim's and look him in the eye either, with all this mess hanging in the air.

Cradling my head I sank to the bottom of the shower. I was now a 'problem' as Brian would oft say about issues. Being in between Paul and John, the group, causing upset and friction within.

I want to be friends?

I want to be more?

I want them to remain friends definitely and how could that happen if I left John for Paul or if I was fighting with John and having Paul fighting John because of me.

Me.

Me.

Me.

I have to leave.

The hot stream of water turned warm then ice cold forcing me to turn the faucets off and haul myself up and into a towel.

My clothes are in the drawers beside my bed, grasping my towel I make my way out into the muted light of the bedroom.

I've done this before, not thinking anything of it, Paul seemed so.....so unaffected..... detached when I had done so before.

Now as he sat on the end of my bed waiting, feet planted, elbows on knees, fists holding up his chin, I could see the reality as soon as I met his eyes. Want.

Scooting over to the dresser I grabbed my most modest nightie.

No words, just a glance as I re-enter the bathroom to change then I hopped into bed, my sheet pulled high, my feet brushing his body, still perched upon the end of the bed, as I shuffled more, in and down. The bedside lamp was switched off,  he used the bathroom, a sliver of light under the door.

The bathroom light snapped off and the door opened.

French moonbeams cast long shadows silhouetting Paul as he moved around the room, tension threading over us, lassoing my heart to its vibrating hub, over stretched guitar strings would be looser than this moment.

Starting to relax as he pottered around quietly, I caught a soft hum from his lips as he recalled a tune. This wasn't any of the songs I knew.

Melancholy, whimsical, soft notes flowed and pages turned quickly as Paul struggled for a clean sheet and a  pencil was cradled;

Words, lyrics, were scratched out hastily across the page.

I sat quietly as he functioned, his head bent, the book angled just so, and Frances' bright moonbeams lit the page.

Dark hair falling across his face, determination in the set of his lips, shape of his jaw; a masterpiece was surely born. A smile of pride graced my own face as he paused and looked up, the humming ceased as he watched the watcher for a few seconds, then another line and yet another flowed through him to the page.

"I'll finish up in a minute.... sorry" His apology was not warranted at all. I was enjoying being part of this, even though I hadn't lift a finger to help.

"No don't. Take your time. Would you rather I wasn't hovering and watching?"

"You? Nah" The grin was infectious and wide. Happy.

God...... why was I here?

My heart lurched as he thought about his verse, the pencil nibbled between his teeth.

Nodding that he was pleased with his night's work that now fluttered over the page, the book was shut and placed on the beautiful overstuffed white and gold chair beside me.

I watched on quietly as he raked his fingers through his ebony hair Like he was shaking the rubbish from his mind. To empty the nonsense or quell what had been a creative stream, or both. To calm the brain.

A glance was all it took for him to sit beside me, back against the headboard, legs out straight in front of him.

"A number one?" I whispered as we sat in the semi-dark.

"Yeah, of course it is"

"Big head"

"Yeah, of course. Can't get by in this world without being one"

"Paul"

"Hmmm"

"I'm really proud of you and the boys" I shuffled up beside him hugging my knees to my chest "You all deserve this. The nicest boys in Britain, you lot"

"Only Britain?"

I softly boxed his arm but that made contact, and contact made us spark.

"Abigail, I want to make you happy. What do I do" Paul turned ever so slightly as I straightened out my own legs. My feet, to his ankles our height difference was slight but obvious.

"Damned if I know" The shadows played over his face as he turned and looked directly at me. I held his gaze. He looked so deep into me, so delving in his perusal.

We seemed destined for ruin if I didn't pull away. I made to lengthen the distance between us but I was too late. His fingers latching mine, bringing them close to his lips, chastely kissing the knuckles then turning my palm over, kissing there too.

All I did was stare at those lips touching my skin, then at those eyes I knew so well. His attention draining my resolve, his lips blessing my skin over and over... and over.

My heart beat like a drum in my ears.

Damn me.

Damn

Me

To

hell.

I turned my face away, toward the darkness, away from his eyes, his thoughts and the moonlight chasing across his lips.

It was all too much, yet somewhere deep inside it felt right, like perhaps this, us, should have been...

Like it was wrong, yet so perfectly beautifully, right.

So bad yet... so, so good.

He touched my chin and I turned back to him.

Before I met his eyes I really did have all intentions to plead sanities case.

To stop.

To stop this....

Stop these feelings. Stop letting that kernel of thought inside me think that what was happening was alright. That we could be.

I had all intentions of pushing him away.

All intentions of disengaging from this ticking disaster of a bomb.

But with one sweet look. His beautiful face so wonderfully caring and kind. Watching me intently with so much love and hope etched in his eyes.....

I failed.

It wasn't a case of If I Fell.

I fell.

Instead of leaning away....

I leant toward Paul.... and my own oblivion.