RINGO HATED this feeling in his chest. He hated how safe and comforting Paul's arms were around him. He hated the fact that he even got attached to him. He hated the fact that he would've been alone the moment Paul walked out the door.

He always thought that he would manage to scrap by life and it's rough edges. That he could live by himself and that he didn't need his invisible mother. Sometimes he'd forget how old he really was whenever he puffed on a cigarette.

The couch seemed to be a regular pit stop for the two of them; with Ringo curled up at his side and Paul's arm slung around his shoulders.

Staying quiet wasn't one of Ringo's best feats. But the silence cloaked them like a comfortable security blanket, and Paul's hand traced soothing circles on his back. He wanted to stay like that forever– nevermind school, it didn't help him anyway.

"Thanks, Paul." He uttered, and Paul looked at him.

"For what, love?"

"You could've left," He mumbled, and any quieter Paul couldn't have heard him. "But– But you stayed."

Paul felt his heart sped up at his words. Without thinking, he pressed a small kiss to Ringo's messy, mousey mop. He heard the younger's breathe hitch up in his throat, Ringo looked at him with those big blue eyes of his and they flickered to Paul's lips. Pink dusted up his cheeks, and Paul found him painfully cute there and there.

His left hand cupped his face, thumb brushing against his lips. Their eyes met and Paul swore he could hear his heart hammering in his chest. He took a sharp intake of breathe when Ringo leaned in, his mouth tantalizingly close–

The phone rang loudly, making Ringo jolt away. Realization flooded his brain and he gazed at Paul with wide eyes filled with disbelief.

"Paul—"

The phone rang again, and Paul pressed his lips together in a straight line.

"You should go answer that," He said in a manner that made Ringo bite his lip.

"Okay," He uttered, before slinging his legs off the couch.

Paul watched as he went over to the telephone, watched his mouth form the words "Ringo Starr speaking" and he couldn't help but think what would've happen if he did kiss him on the lips.

Paul remembered that he was barely eighteen and shifted his seating, if he had he wouldn't be able to stop. And that scared him a bit, because he wasn't supposed to feel this way. He wasn't supposed to feel in general. But the way Ringo glanced at him, it was like falling and sinking down into an ocean of emotion with no buoy nearby. He could always leave, he could rush out the door while Ringo was sleeping at night and he could forget everything that happened and continued on his bloody way of cleaning the world from prostitutes.

But something anchored him to the ground, and Paul was torn between ripping the chain off or staying.

And Ringo was making everything harder for him. 

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Wowowowow it's been seventy eight years since I updated

How was it????