Saturday the 4th of October 1958

I woke up with a violent start, bolting upright in the small and narrow single bed, with the sheets twisted around me. It rampaged through me like a wildfire, bubbling and burning through my veins. I took a few deep breaths as I looked around the tiny shoebox-shaped room to calm myself. I tilted my head towards the panelled window on my left —— it was still very dark, clearly night. I could see the outlines of the back garden and the lavender bushes. The pale sliver moonlight glistened through the the small gap in the lace curtains drenching a major section of the tiny room.

I could hear a steady knock on the door. It started me almost too much and instantly I turned my attention to it. "You can come in," I muttered but my voice sounded weak and much too soft. The handle on the door, turned slowly and I relaxed when I saw those familiar dark inky locks that were messy from sleep. Paul.

"Are ye alright?" He asked sincerely, poking his head through the gap in the door, although his voice was husky from his slumber. We had gotten back quite late from his gig and it must have been very early in the morning.

I'll be back soon, my little starshine. Don't worry, your grandmother will take good care of you.

I blinked my mother's voice away from my mind, before turning my gaze towards the window. "It was just a horrible nightmare," I admitted and shuddered violently. Although, I was young —— barely seven when it happened, I could recall it so vividly, so easily it was too painful. The familiar ache settled into my heart.

He opened the door wider and stood at the door frame, lingering for a moment. "Do ye need anything?" I turned my attention back to him.

I tried my best to smile, but failed helplessly, "I'm alright now. . . I'm really sorry that I woke you up."

I could see the grin on his face in the moonlight and it made him look like an angelic god or something like that —— I don't he had ever looked so handsome than this moment, so imperfectly perfect, "Don't be daft. I have them too. Do ya want to talk about it."

"Not really," I admitted, I could feel the linger of his gaze.

"Okay," He drawled, his scouse accent much more prominent as he gently backed his way out of the room and began closing the door behind him. I suddenly it sparked within me that didn't want him to leave. I always felt better around him. I wanted Paul to stay.

"Paul?" I muttered. The door instantly opened.

"Yes, love?" He asked, he was grinning triumphantly and not even hiding it —— I knew it, that sly little fox! He leant against the door frame, his hazel eyes peering down at me and they grew to be as soft as melted chocolate.

"C-Can you stay for a bit, please? It doesn't have to be long, just five minutes or so." I asked him in a whisper. Paul chuckled slightly and sat down in the middle of the floor for some ridiculous reason. "What on earth are you doing? You can sit on the bed or something. It's freezing in here."

I watched him, sit down on the edge of the bed and I could feel it sink under his weight. He sat there only for a moment, before sighing and motioning with his hand for me to move over.
I frowned at him slightly baffled for a moment until he lifted up the blankets and laid down beside me. I was forced to be smushed into the wall and it was uncomfortable. A cheeky grin grew upon his lips as his hazel eyes met my own and I could see them so much clearly then before —— it was easy to get lost in them.

"All along ye just wanted to get into bed with me," He said with a teasing wink.

"You've caught me in the act, oh no!" I muttered sarcastically, although I could tell that I was being a little overdramatic about it.

"You're hogging all the blanket." I tried to tug some off Paul but he was gripping it tightly.

"In all honestly Daisy, in my expert opinion I don't believe this bed is made for two. You're just going to have to stop being a baby and be a trooper and embrace the cold."

"Go to sleep. I don't want to deal with McCharmly night now," I muttered closing my eyes.

"How'd y'know about that one?" When he laughed, I opened an eye and I could see that he was curious.

"John. He says it quite a lot. Go to sleep please."

"But now I'm awake," He protested with an over exaggerated pout.

I could feel my lips begin to curl into at grin, "Count sheep. It should help you with all your sleeping troubles."

"No," He said grimly like a little child.

I snapped open my eyes and grounded my teeth together, "Go back to your room then. I can hear it calling for you."

"But I'm comfy here with ya," Paul admitted teasingly and shuffled slightly towards me. I gently pushed him away.

"How on earth is this comfortable!" I whisper-yelled.

"Because I am with my muse," He said as if he was admitting the biggest secret he ever had.

"Your muse?" I repeated as I knitted my eyebrows together.

"Yes."

I sighed at his words, unable to deny how much this was already growing into a disaster. "I am a terrible muse, by the way. There nothing really good about me. What are you going to write about — me gardening? Falling over? Wearing no shoes? A yellow raincoat?"

"I could fit it in somewhere," He admitted softly with a smile.

I could feel my face pale. The last thing I wanted was to be documented. Any sort of evidence that I was here and music would be the worst but nothing seemed to have changed yet and that comforting.

"You're unreal. Sometimes I really want to hit you in the face," I confessed.

Then Paul muttered under his breath something I could hear.

"Pardon?" I whispered, before Paul cleared his throat.

"Doesn't matter. Anyways, why would ye think that about yourself? You're one of the most beautiful birds I've ever seen and that's out of a lot of girls." That was probably the nicest thing Paul had ever said to me, I knew I couldn't flatter him. His ego was already big enough at times.

"Although, I'm very flattered by your words. I'm not anything blond like your Briget Baguette girls."

"I mean you'd make a pretty blond like Brigitte Bardot, if ya wanted to be," Paul promoted, I couldn't deny that it was hinting at something else but I'd didn't know what he meant. I made a face at him.

"Ew, no way. It ruins your hair ——is she the woman of your dreams or something?" I asked, my voice clear and slightly louder than before.

"Maybe," He mused with a mellow smile. For a moment I wondered if his cheeks ever hurt,
Paul smiled an awful lot.

His words surprised me. "Who's the man of ye dreams?"

"When I find him. I'll let you know," I said said with a slight laugh.

Paul flicked me in the nose, muttering under his breath, "I thought ye thought I had a pretty face." I could feel the blush grow on my cheeks at his words, remembering the evening at Maggie's Diner when I had got hit in the face by John.

"That was until I learnt what was underneath all the prettiness," I muttered with a teasing grin.

Paul flicked me in the nose again, "Aw! Stop it, that ain't nice!"

Paul suddenly rolled over with his back to me, "Go to sleep Daisy or count sheep."

"Are you angry with me?" I asked, although there was no hiding the worry that grew within my voice. I hated it when people where angry with me.

"No," He said gruffly, pulling at the shared pillow and brushing away locks of my hair that had gotten in his space. "Just tired. Sleep."

"Five minutes ago, you would have said otherwise," I commented softly with a slight laugh before adding, "Oh how the tables have turned."

Paul was silent. I think he was pretending to be asleep. I repeatedly poked his back, despite knowing how annoying I was being.

"Paul?" I whispered.

"Yes?" He said sith a sigh. Ah, so he was awake.

"You are really awesome you know that?" I confessed, maybe I too was laking sleep. I could feel myself beginning to get emotional.

"Of course," He said knowingly, I could almost hear his smile. "I'm really happy I met you. You're a lot cooler than I thought you would have been," I admitted as well. I shouldn't have been saying this but the words slipped out my mouth before I could stop them.

"Me too," His words were light and gentle but weighted my heart with a heavy blow. Then I could feel my throat ache and tears escape from my eyes. I didn't know how or why I did but I was crying.

Paul turned over to me, for a moment his eyes met mine before he reached out and pulled me into him. I clutched his stripped pyjama shirt and burried my face into his neck breathing in his scent of lavender, soap and the slight smell of cigarettes. It washed over me in waves, comforting me in ways I couldn't comprehend. I always felt so safe and at home with Paul.

"I'm sorry," I whispered into him. I couldn't convey how sorry I was within words.

"Ye don't have anything to be sorry about," He said warmly then Paul started to hum a melody under his breath, it sounded like an old Irish lullaby.

It sounded like Paul had said something and I was going to ask him to repeat it but I could feel my eyes grew heavy and in a matter of movements I drifted into sleep.

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author's note: i hope you all liked the double update! it's adorable to see paul and jude become just that little bit closer. i hope you're all doing well. maddy x