Chapter Text
Mary McCartney had know that something was wrong with her son when the boy had started beating his brother without motivation, than beating himself or crying without any reason at all.
The boy would start crying and clinging against his mother, saying that a mean man was telling him that he had to beat himself and beat Mike too.
Mary would ask him where the man was and the little boy would point over, but Mary wouldn't found anyone.
She later brought him to the doctors, who diagnosed him with schizophrenia and gave him some medicines when he was 14.
The poor boy, thanks to the medicine, was feeling drowsy and Mary started to feel guilty: her once happy and bubbly boy was now just an empty shell of the kid he used to be.
Paul was now 17, living in a clinic with other troubled boys after he had tried to attack his father and brother in a moment of weariness.
Mary Smith didn't think her nephew had problems, but the primary school he was in continued to insist that something was wrong.
John, the teacher said, never talk or made eye contact in class with anyone, refusing to move from his place when he had to do group works and during recess and lunch time he would stay completely by himself, without interacting with anyone.
Mimi, the name John usually called her, was confused, John was a very bubbly boy who loved to talk and be close, but, the woman noted, he never talked about friends and never brought home any of his classmates.
Eventually, she confronted him about it and during a school play, the little boy stayed completely paralyzed in front of all the parents, before sprinting down the stage to run into his aunt's arms. A behaviour like that was normal for a younger boy, but John was almost 10, and the way he hid his face into Mimi's shirt was enough to convince the woman that actually there was something wrong with the young boy. He was lately diagnosed with selective mutism.
John was now 19 and stayed into a clinic with his friends.
George had suspected that something was wrong with him when he was seeing everything as black, always sad, without seeing good things about life.
His mother had brought him to the doctors where he was diagnosed with depression.
The medicines made him feel empty and tired, always uncaring, but without them he would be extremely hateful about everything and anyone, so much he didn't care about getting up, staying in bed for weeks and weeks.
George was now 18 and he was living in the same clinic of Paul and John.
Richard had passed his childhood into hospitals and recovers.
The poor boy, who was suffering of a rare illness, had stopped growing after a while, and now, at 19 years old, he was as tall as a 10 years old.
Due to all the scars that he had from all the surgeries, he was really self-conscious and that led to anxiety attacks, strong self confidence issues and anger burst towards anyone.
Aside for that, Ritchie was a very kind boy, who was now 19 and living in the same clinic.
Brian Epstein, psychiatrist of Liverpool Clinic, entered one of the many rooms in the third floor.
The bedroom was not really big, with two beds one next to the other, a night stand in the middle.
There was a big wardrobe and a small writing desk. The walls were a blue colour, full of posters of Elvis Presley, Buddy Holly, Little Richard and more singers.
Brian get closer, starting to feel concerned.
Paul was sitting on one of the beds, eyes wide and unfocused. He was rocking back and forth, muttering under his breath. John was sitting next to him, tracing circles in the younger boy's back. "It's alright, Paulie. Everything's alright" whispered John.
"Paul? John? What's the matter, boys?" asked concerned Brian, grabbing his notepad.
"I think the mean man had appeared again" muttered lowly the auburn haired boy.
"Did he take his medicines?" asked Brian, and even if he had to be professional he still cared for the boys a lot.
John nodded, hugging the younger boy when he buried his face in the crook of his neck, pleading John to make the mean man go away.
Brian just watched. If Paul had clung to John, than it was better to not touch him, or he would responded negatively.
John managed to calm down the poor boy, letting him whimper and cry against his chest.
"Paul?" whispered Brian once the boy had calmed down, tears still streaming down his cheeks. He looked up at Brian shyly, "I'm better now. I think the medicines hadn't kicked in yet" he explained. "Johnny, are you okay?" he asked, looking at his best friend.
One of the best qualities of Paul McCartney was that he was always trying to comfort his friends, even if he was not okay. He was a good hearted lad, always ready to comfort the others, especially John on his really bad days, when he would not talk with anyone and just scratch his wrist, a thing he always did when nervous and under stress.
John looked at him with concern, one hand kept brushing the younger boy's hair in a calming gesture.
"Ta, Johnny" he softly said, leaning closer to press a chaste kiss on the boy's cheek, making John smile and return the kiss.
Brian giggled, "John, your aunt Mimi is here" and he couldn't not smile at the big heartwarming smile John made as he heard.
Brian stepped aside, letting a middle-aged woman came inside and John quickly got onto his feet, running towards her.
"Mimi! I missed you so much!" he said, clinging onto her. She smiled, kissing his forehead and returned the hug. "I miss you too, Johnny. The house is empty without you" she said, cupping the boy's face into her hands and pressing another kiss onto his forehead.
Paul, still on the bed, smiled and got up, heading out of the room to gave them some privacy with Brian in tow, still smiling at John's affection towards his auntie.
Brian, being a psychiatrist, knew that John's affection wasn't taken for granted.
People with social issues like him didn't like talking with people, let alone being touched.
It took Brian about 2 months and half to get the boy's trust and about 3 months for him to actually talk and make eye contact with.
He remembered the first weeks he had been living here, a complete nightmare for all the nurses and a living Hell for the poor boy, who also had attachments issues after being abused and abandoned when he was little by his mother.
He had cried all night, falling asleep for exhaustiveness than actual need of sleep and he would also not talk or eat.
The only time the doctors heard him say something, aside from manically screaming, was to him asking to call his auntie and that he needed auntie to fall asleep.
Later, Brian discovered that John, even if at the time he was 17, was still used to be tucked in bed every night and received a goodnight kiss by his aunt. He also discovered that the boy used to still wet the bed and so he was in nappies every night and that made Brian think there was something more than just selective mutism, and more autism like symptoms, but John had confided him that it was just because he didn't get to be looked over when he was an actual toddler.
Over time, Brian had gained John's complete trust.
When Paul had arrived, scared and lost, John had made his job to look after him and now the two were the best of friends, always ready to comfort one another and talk about their problems.
Upon reaching the common room, Paul smiled at Brian and went over to George and Richard, other two friends of him, to play cards together.
Brian still smiling, could easily say that he loved his job, making people feel better was his biggest goal.