Back home, Paul still wasn't feeling much better. The entire journey back had been filled with tension between him and John, which hadn't helped much with Paul's nerves. John had clearly been at a loss of what to do, and although he had tried to make Paul feel better by holding his hand and trying to engage him into some small talk to get their minds off whatever was going on with his boyfriend, Paul had repeatedly pushed him away and curled up in the corner of the bus seat, keeping a safe distance between him and his boyfriend. Thankfully, John had respected this distance, and had stuck to his side for the rest of the way home, which they drove in silence, neither speaking, leaving Paul to think about what he was going to tell John.

Somewhere, he knew his fears were irrational, had known it on the bus too: John had always loved him and respected him and his choices; he had never once said anything negative about transgenders. He seemed honestly concerned about him, and even George had said John would accept him just the way he was. Only, it seemed like his brain didn't want to listen to rational thought. It surprised him, though, how difficult he found it to be honest with John and tell him the truth. He hadn't had it as much with anyone else, not even with George, his brother or his parents. It had always seemed like the natural thing to do for him, and although it had been difficult, he hadn't made this much of a fuss of it to them, but with John it was different.

He sighed as he let himself fall onto the couch, lightly pulling his elbow free from John's grip, from where his boyfriend had been supporting his weight. It wasn't so much that he needed support; he was feeling fine physically. Mentally, however... He slid over all the way to the end of the couch and hauled up his legs to his chest, hugging them as he avoided John's gaze at all costs.

"Wait here. I'll get you some water. You're looking all pale," John told him in a soft voice and Paul nodded in return as he listened to John's footsteps walking away. Once he heard the kitchen door open, he let out a sigh in relief, glad to have a moment alone to think.

Paul knew he didn't have any other choice but to tell John. He had put it off for too long and now John knew something was up with him and Paul knew his boyfriend long enough to know he wasn't going to give up until he knew what was wrong. Lying wouldn't do either, as John could always see through that. Besides, he wanted to tell John. He had to tell John. It would be fine. Or so he hoped.

"Here." Paul jerked out of his thoughts at the sound of his boyfriend's voice so close beside him, not having heard him come back in. He glanced up at him and forced a smile as he took the glass from John to take a sip. He kept looking at John from underneath his lashes as he moved to sit down beside him, his body turned into his direction as he watched Paul drink. "Your dad is out, by the way. He left you a note, saying he was doing groceries. He'll be back in a few."

Paul nodded. "Thanks, John."

"So..." John spoke after a few seconds of silence. "Are you still going to tell me what's been bothering you?" Paul took another sip from his water before answering.

"It's not that I don't want to tell you..."

"Then, please do," John almost begged, and Paul hesitated for a moment, before shaking his head.

"It's not that easy for me, John. I-I've been wanting to tell you for a while, but... I... I just can't. For some reason, whenever I try..." his voice crumbled at that last, not being able to say anything more as his throat constricted, tightening until barely any air could pass through. His body jerked again as he felt John's hand on his knee, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

"You can tell me anything, love. You don't have to be scared."

"I-I know... just... just promise me you won't get angry at me or make fun of me or anything like that," Paul asked, sitting up a bit more as he took a couple of deep breaths, feeling his heart thumped rapidly in his chest as he realised he was actually going to tell John now. After two years, one and a half of which they had been dating, he was finally going to tell John. He just hoped it would be worth it. He hoped John would accept him. He finally had someone who accepted him without question and loved him for who he was, and he couldn't stand the thought of losing that.

"Paul, why would I ever get mad at you-" John started, but Paul shook his head resolutely as he interrupted him.

"Just promise me, John. I... I need you to promise me," he told him, and John nodded immediately, seemingly taken aback by the sudden power in his voice.

"Yes. Yes, I promise. I won't get mad at you or make fun of you. God, Paul... I'd never do that. Not with something serious like this," he promised, and Paul nodded as he swallowed a large lump in his throat. He let go his of legs and carefully slid off the couch. He found himself shaking again, but he refused John's help when he asked if he was alright. It was just the nerves. He needed to do this and he needed to do this on his own. He was going to fine. George had said he was going to fine.

Slowly, he walked over to the bookshelf that stood beside the piano and with trembling fingers, he pulled out a large leather-bound book. It wasn't as much thick, as long and wide. He let his fingers run over the binding and took another deep breath, before turning around to where his boyfriend was sitting on the couch, watching his every move with a worried expression on his face. Paul felt a strange feeling of relief as he saw that look, thinking that maybe George was right. He walked back to John and sat down on the couch beside him before placing the book in John's lap without a word, this time sitting closer to him so he could look into the book with him. John turned to look at him with a confused expression.

"What is this?" he asked.

"There are pictures of me when I was young. I just never showed them to you. Until now," he said as a way of explaining, feeling suddenly very confident that this was the way he had to do it, knowing it would save him a lot of explaining and that he could look at John's expression to see how he was handling it, before he was actually going to have to say the actual words. It was safer. Or it felt that way. "Open it."

John raised an eyebrow at that, but did as Paul asked without questioning it, trusting his boyfriend fully at that moment, probably more out of curiosity and to make sure he wouldn't freak out anymore, but Paul appreciated it nonetheless. The first page John opened wasn't the first in the book, but Paul didn't mind, and when John's hand moved to flip back, he stopped him by placing his hand over John's. He let out a deep breath at the touch, feeling his courage grow now that he was finally doing it.

"Do you remember who that girl is?" he asked, nodding at one of the larger pictures on the page of a girl with long hair, doe eyes, shapely eyebrows, pouty lips, and chubby cheeks.

John nodded. "It's your cousin," he said, and smiled as he read the words written beneath it in his Mary McCartney's hand. "Jessie." Paul nodded and lifted his hand off John's. He tried to get his heart rate to slow by taking some deep breaths, before he told John to go a view pages further. John nodded and did as he had asked, obeying without question. He smiled as he looked at the pictures of the McCartney family, pointing out people he knew and occasionally commenting how often his cousin was in here. Paul didn't say anything more as simply waited as he made sure John read every word his mother had written beneath the pictures, waiting impatiently for the moment when John would realise.

"'Jessie in Mike's school uniform,'" John read out loud with a chuckle as he pointed at a picture of the same girl in Mike's old school uniform, a bright smile on her face. "She really does look like you. Especially with the short hair." Paul hummed in reply. They looked at a couple more photos of 'Jessie' wearing both boy's and girl's clothes, with both long and short hair, until they finally got to the one page Paul had been waiting for. He held his breath and squeezed his hands into his fists as he awaited John's reaction. It was another photo of the same person, now about nine years old, this time with short hair and boy's clothes - which weren't his brother's this time - with underneath the name 'Jessie' scratched out and replaced with 'Paul'. John's hands halted before he could turn the page and stared motionlessly at the page. Paul held his breath as he awaited a reaction. Personally, he loved this photo. He regarded it as the first real photo of him just the way he was. He hoped that wasn't going to change after this. Maybe he should have thought this through a bit more?

"Paul..." John muttered as he let his fingers trace the edges of the photograph, his eyes wide as they skimmed the entire page. "This... this is you?" he asked, and Paul nodded as John turned to look at him, chewing on his bottom lip as his nerves grew again.

"John?" he asked when he didn't say anything more.

"This... you're Jessie?" John asked, and Paul nodded again. "I-I don't..." Instead of clarifying what this meant, Paul took the book from him and flipped through the remaining pages, showing him pictures of him on his tenth birthday, wearing his school uniform, one for boys this time, and a few of him when he had been older, until they reached the last picture of him with his mother, a couple of weeks before she had passed away - the last picture in the book. When he closed the photo album, John still looked confused.

"I... I don't get it..." he muttered as he watched Paul put the book down on the coffee table, and Paul sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, trying to gather enough courage to actually say it. When he turned back to John and his eyes met those of his boyfriend's, he suddenly found that courage, knowing he had to say it, and wanting to say it, for both him and John.

"John," he said as he licked his lips nervously. "I'm trans. Jessie... she is me. Or I was her. Or am her, I suppose. It gets kind of complicated when you look at it like that. What I'm trying to say is... I'm trans. That's... yes, that's pretty much it."

"You're trans?" John asked, staring at Paul with disbelief, and when Paul nodded, his mouth fell slightly open. It looked kind of comical, and Paul couldn't help but laugh, although it was probably more the weight that had now finally dropped off his shoulders than that he actually thought that was funny. He had finally said it.

"So you're..." John said, not finishing his question, but Paul nodded anyway.

"And you've..." Again, Paul nodded.

"Oh, thank God!" John exclaimed with a deep sigh of relief, and this time it was Paul's turn to frown in confusement.

"Thank god?!" he asked dumbfounded, and John nodded, a bright smile on his face as he took Paul's hands in his own and raised them to his lips to kiss them.

"Yes! Dammit, Macca... I thought you were going to die or something!"

"Die?!"

"Yes! I mean... you were acting so strangely and you needed to go home so often, saying you were ill, and then you'd suddenly feel better again the next day. And all those trips to the doctor every two or three months! I thought you had some strange illness and that's why you had felt so reluctant to go out with me at first and kept pushing me away, because you knew you were going to die or something. I was so worried!" John said, and Paul stared at him as his brain tried to progress it.

"So you're not mad at me or anything?" he asked, just to be sure, but before he had even spoken the entire sentence, John had already wrapped his arms around him and pulled him in for a firm hug. He chuckled as John pressed his lips to his cheek and kissed him.

"Of course, I'm not mad at you. How could I be? I'm just relieved you're not ill, is all."

"I-I'm sorry for making you worry so much... It's just... I would have told you before, but I was so scared you wouldn't accept me and would leave me... I mean, I was so happy when you just saw me as me, a guy, and I didn't want you to think of me differently because of this...."

"Paul, love. Of course I wouldn't leave you. I love you, remember?You! That means all of you, you understand? When I said you could tell me anything, I meant it. You can always tell me anything. Now I feel kind of stupid for thinking you were going to die," John said, and he ended with a chuckle as he pulled away again. Paul chuckled along with him, feeling so utterly relieved that John wasn't angry with him or upset or was making fun of him. He actually accepted him!

"That is pretty stupid..." he muttered, and smiled as he looked up at his boyfriend and their eyes locked. He blushed when John smiled back. "I am sorry about not telling you before," he started again, but John shook his head.

"You don't have to be sorry, Paul. But I'm glad you told me. I'm just relieved you're not going to die on me or anything," he said with another chuckle, and Paul nodded.

"I'm glad, too," he said, and with that, John reached out for him and gently cupped Paul's cheek in his hand, stroking his skin with his thumb, before he leaned in and placed a sweet and simple kiss to his lips, smiling as he felt Paul sigh against his mouth.

"And this," John softly spoke as he pulled back and let a hand run up and down Paul's side. "is what? If you don't mind me asking, of course."

"My binder. Also the reason why I left so suddenly yesterday. It er... it starts to irritate when it's warm and it makes it kind of difficult to breathe."

"Are you okay now?" John asked immediately, and Paul nodded.

"Yes, love," he said, and John nodded back as he looked Paul up and down, more with curiosity, amazement and love, than anything else, so Paul didn't really mind. That didn't mean, however, he couldn't tease him about it. "Are you going to stare at me all day now?" he asked, and right away John's eyes snapped up to his face in shock, only relaxing again when he saw the amused smile on his boyfriend's face.

"What about these doctor visits? What are those for?" John asked when he realised Paul wasn't actually angry at him for asking questions or looking at him. Still, he kept himself from staring at his body, for which Paul was grateful.

"Hormone therapy. I take shots, so I have to go to the doctor every once in a while. It's not that bad. At first it was strange, though. But it's working great for me, as you're well aware," he explained, just being happy that John was actually this accepting of him, making him feel grateful he had finally gone and done it, feeling freer already.

"I love you, Paul," John spoke suddenly, and Paul smiled at that as he flushed a light pink.

"I love you too," he muttered.

"And er... thanks for telling me, for trusting me."

"Sure, and thank you for being so accepting. It makes me feel kind of stupid for not having told you before, but..."

"I know, Paul. It's fine. Now, let's go eat something. I'm fucking starving!" John said, taking Paul's hand in his and dragging him off to the kitchen with him, and Paul let him, still smiling to himself at how lucky he was to have John.

Even stranger than the fact that it had taken him ages to tell John about him being trans, was how easy it was for him to be out to John and to be relaxed around him. At first he had been nervous to have John see him without his binder on, and it still took him a while to get used to John touching him in places that were a little more intimate without tensing up, but soon everything got back to normal. No. Not normal. Things were better than normal. Although, Paul supposed this was the new normal now, and he certainly didn't mind.

It felt nice to finally be around John without having to worry - consciously or subconsciously - about his masculinity. He liked spending lazy days together, just spending time in his room, cuddling, kissing, listening to music, composing songs, and playing guitar, and him just being able to take off his binder whenever he wanted. At first it had been awkward; Paul hadn't been sure if John was alright with that, and John wasn't sure how to act around him at first. In the beginning, he had clearly avoided looking at his chest, but slowly they had both gotten used to it, and now it simply wasn't an issue anymore. It was just how things were, and Paul liked that best. After a couple of days, John had even started to offer him massages when he wasn't feeling well, and the more they started to touch each other, the easier everything else had gotten as well. All in all, it hadn't taken them longer than a week to adjust.

Even now, as they lay in Paul's little bed and listened together to a comedy show on the radio, as the rain clattered against the window panes in the background, Paul in John's arms as he lay against his chest in nothing but a simple shirt and his pyjama bottoms, he was still John's own little Elvis, a boy and nothing less, and that was all Paul ever wanted. It didn't matter to John what his body looked like, whether he was a bit curvier than most men, or that his eyebrows were perfectly arched, or that he still needed to wear a binder. It didn't matter to John, and neither did it matter to Paul. He was happy. Happy with himself and with John, and he deserved to be happy, just like everyone else. He giggled as John nosed his neck and sucked a hickey on his skin.

"Tickles," he muttered, but John shushed him by placing one of his fingers onto his lips.

"Shh... I'm listening to the radio, Macca," he said, and Paul rolled his eyes in return, but kept quiet anyway as he let John mark him with kisses, silently enjoying it.

The End