"Boone. Wasn't he at the Grammy's?"
FOR CONTEXT : this shit is completely just for shit and giggles; the whole thing takes place in 2025 where Benson got nominated for Grammy's and all that beautiful stuff
Paul recalled, taking a puff of his cigarette as he rewatched the Grammy's on the 19 inch wide TV screen. The Beatles were also nominatedāand very well deservedāwon an award for album of the year with their chic and very old-styled music.
John was busy cooking his own little snack, George was cuddled up in the couch writing nothings in his journal while Ringo was the only guy who cared to answer.
"Yeah, I think he got nominated for new artist, didn't he now?" Ringo also tried to recall, crushing his burnt out cigarette into the ash tray. Paul hummed silently, staring at the television while his fingers rubbed at his philtrum almost in a fiddling way. "His performance was rather... Extraordinary."
"These new artists are doing too much nowadays, could ask them to do a backflip and would do it in just a second." George chimed in mindlessly, his fingers still pressed against the notebook with the ink bleeding into the pages, but his words went on deaf ears to Paul, his eyes focused on Benson and his exposed chest area with his performance outfit.
Paul relaxed himself as he leaned back against the couch, observing every part of the performance with his own very eyes, then John's voice sliced through the silence.
"You've been watching that bloody performance for the third time already. I thought you hated those bulky men who tried too hard to make music." He said playfully as he placed his plate down and nudged at Paul's shoulders.
Paul furrowed his eyebrows as he nudged John back, harder and definitely harsher than usual. John only let out a guffaw before stabbing his burrito with his fork then picking it up, "I think I know what you're thinking now, Macca."
Paul stayed dead quiet, his eyes still focused on the performance as the disgustingly ear-piercing sound of pop-"rock" was being sung live by Benson himself. Ringo tilted his head to the side, trying to see what was going on before he let out a smile himself.
"I think I understand what John is saying as well." Ringo said himself in an also playful way, the corner of his mouth lifting up before pushing himself off the table and walking over to the couch where John and Paul sat.
George was simply in his own world to not give a care in the worldābut for our sakeāprobably knows what the other two are conspiring.
"You like him, don't you, Macca?" John said in a puckish way while he poked and nudged at Paul, a playful smile now appearing on his face. The red tint on Paul's face started to become more visible before he pouted in an almost embarrassed way and covered his mouth with his hands.
Ringo and John laughed while Ringo patted Paul's back, "It's alright now, Paulie. We don't judge ya." Ringo reassured Paul, purely because they were laughing at the fact that Paul had a crush on a guy that Paul would constantly nitpick at, saying that bulky guys were insufferable, goatees and mustaches are too much to tend for, and all that stuff.
"I'm sure you'll be able to meet him again, we're a famous band, aren't we now? Just stay close to your mobile and he'll probably ask for help on his new single." John chimed in with a high-spirit, his fingers reaching for Paul's cheeks and pulling at the flushed piece of skin.
Part two coming never š°š¦
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