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George took down one of the chairs at the top of the tables, hooking his coat around the back of it before sitting down. Him, Paul, Stuart, John and Pete had arrived here in the cavern only two hours ago. Practicing under half an hour, beneath the beaming hot lights at each corner of the stage, the tension was abnormally thick within each session of practice.
George wrapped his fingers around the water bottle he requested for, bringing it up to his lips before swallowing half of it down. His dark eyes were on Paul who was sitting at the corner of the stage, watching his older friend closely, noticing that his hands were shaking and his teeth were subconsciously gnawing on his bottom lip. Paul was tuning his guitar, anger pulsing through his veins as beads of sweat began to drawl down his forehead and cheek.
George already knew what was wrong, and he knew better than to invade Paul's thoughts. Especially in his state of consciousness right now. The answer was across the stage, both Stuart and John chatting, laughing and pressed against each other like twins in a womb. Paul was fuming, jaw clenching and chest tightening with warmth from the accumulating anger that rose from within him.
Pete hadn't cared enough to notice, too busy polishing his drum set in the back of the stage. George withdrew himself from the tension, silently pressuring John to notice that his band mate is clearly under extreme distress.
Stuart slumped back against the corner and smiled softly, recovering from doubling over with laughter from a joke John had told him. "You're a swine Lennon."
"Oh but it's all true, you know it is since you can't deny it. Bloke was gone to the dogs son." John facetiously remarked, glancing up from his guitar at Stuart who was still smiling dazedly at the younger.
Stuart slung his leg off of the stage and folded his other one up to his chest, so his arm could dangle lazily off of his knee. "Let's say we stay here for a few drinks."
Paul lifted his head up, turning his gaze towards the other two for the first time in ages. Before John could say anything, Paul tossed his guitar down carelessly onto the floor which made a resounding noise of a thud and vibrational thum conjure. The noise caught the attention of John, Pete, Stuart and George.
Paul had then ran his hand through his messy teddy boy hairdo, exhaling shakily before glueing his eyes onto Stuart's expecting ones. "Me and John already had plans later on Stuart."
After a few beats, and an additionally awkward throat clearing from John, Stuart slowly rose from his position in the corner. "Then why don't you come with us Mccartney? We all could kick in the heel here, have a couple of drinks."
Paul's balled fist had clenched, "No."
George slowly set his half empty water bottle down, preparing himself to rise out of his seating. There was a few times in his life where he had witnessed Paul get into a scrap, the man won two out of all three. The last one was two against one, and they were both unfairly ginormous — leaving Paul with a sprained wrist and bruised rib at the end. Stuart was different.
"No?" Stuart repeated, over dramatically placing a hand against his chest. "Oh. I see how it is."
Pete snickered from the back, which left Paul's nerves tingling with pins and needles, all in which telling him to harm someone.
John hadn't seen Paul like this at all before, it wasn't common at all, Paul hadn't seem the type to lose his temper. Nevertheless, he stood up and shoved his hands into his drainpipe pockets. "Paul, you're as daft as a bush. Just go home and kip."
All the murderous determination had suddenly drained from Paul's face, "But John we-"
"Tomorrow."
George winced, he was familiar with that word. In any other situation he'd feel bad for his friend, but lately that's the treatment Paul had been giving him whenever him and John had something to do. George was passive with it, and spent his nights with his family instead, ignoring the tingling feeling of rejection from his best mate.
Paul wasn't like George although.
Stuart was the icing on the cake. As John mounted off the stage, leaving Paul in a state of shock, Stuart and Pete shared laughs after passing by a few inaudible words. Afterwards, Stuart approached the trembling boy and gently placed his hand on his shoulder. The contact made Paul's world freeze, and he immediately began to black out.
"I'm sorry mate, tomorrow for sure, maybe me and John could include you in a foursome." Stuart gently laughed, hoping to get a smile out of the younger man.
George stood up from his chair quickly, but it was too late. Paul's fist was already shooting towards Stuart's mouth, catching the older off guard almost completely, once all of Paul's knuckles forcefully made contact with Stuart's lips the man flew back against the floor. John paused in the middle of walking, whirling around to face the stage and to witness Paul storm towards Stuart in inconsolable rage. Stuart recovered fast, anger quickly drenching his nerves as pain tinged his face. Before Paul could begin his second attack, Stuart stood up and swung on the younger harshly which he vaguely missed due to his lack of gaining control. Paul jerked his fist into Stuart's abdomen, and let his other hand grasp at the man's hair to tug it violently. Stuart cautiously jerked away, and grabbed harshly at the column of Paul's throat as he stepped forward in preparation to slam the younger man.
George and John, along with a stunned Pete rushed towards the two as Stuart suddenly gained control, ready to slam Paul against the tables in front of the stage. John grabbed Paul, Pete grabbed Stuart, George helped pushed the two apart.
"Stop it! Stop!" John was literally yelling, and his voice was surprisingly drowned in the frequent cursing, insults, and unforgivable physical contacts.
Paul was still violently struggling, face hot and adrenaline rushing through his blood.
Stuart was silently, inwardly fuming and he made the conclusion of once them letting him go, he'd just attack them again.
"Alright, alright now. Calm down." George tried to pull Paul away from the scene, but the older had this unknowing strength that he would gain whenever he was pushed above his limit.
John however yanked Paul away from the stage, and jerked him towards the back of the cavern. Pete was trying to get Stuart to chill out, knowing that he was still absolutely mad. By this time Paul had stopped struggling, now just shaking with anxiety and a rush of cold chills covering up his body. Usually, it happens when he was being confronted after a fight he was involved with, even though there were few fights in his life due to his relatively calmness.
John pushed opened the door that led the two inside of a small cubicle, dim lights at the corner with a mirror underneath. There was a couch at the side, and it hit Paul that this was the room they'd be in either before or after their shows. John turned to close the door, then whirled to face Paul who stumbled inside from the forceful pull John had done on him. "What the fuck is wrong with you?! Why'd you do that?"
Like it hadn't disappeared, the bitter annoyance was back as Paul huffed in a breath. "There's nothing wrong with me, something's wrong with you."
John seethed, eyes narrowing as his patience grew as thin as a single string. "Come off it Macca."
"Don't call me that."
John frowned, taken back by the directness. "I always call you that."
"Do you think I give a fuck?" Paul spat, body trembling in delight of this invisible high ground he was on.
“So I can’t call you Macca now?”
”Whenever you stop riding Stu’s cock, I’d let you.”
The roller coaster of adrenaline was cut off when John struck Paul in the face, fist colliding mercilessly with the younger's cheek, causing Paul to literally fly back against the wall. John hadn't realized he hit Paul until he heard the hard thud of him crashing into the wall. Paul, still recovering from the fight only a few minutes prior, immediately conjured up a sudden urge to fight John Winston Lennon. This was his own band mate, and the reason he fought Stuart, this was his crush or whatever he wanted to put it
John raced towards Paul at an attempt to help him, and the younger took it as a second attack. Instead of fighting back like he originally planned to do, Paul shrunk and did the unexpected; he flinched.
"Paul- I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." John said in sheer panic, and lifted the man up to his feet to meet him in a close hug. "I didn't mean to hit you alright? Paul look at me, look at me love." John pleaded, pulling away so that he could properly face Paul.
Paul who was dazed at the moment, transfixed his gaze onto John and immediately began to relax, all the anger leaving his body somewhat. He tried to open his mouth to talk but the numbing pain surfacing his cheek and jawline told him not to, and all he could do is pull himself together.
John stared at him for a few seconds, rendering a further apology by caressing his shoulders. He had noted Paul coldly swiping away droplets of blood from the corner of his mouth, and trembling in distress. After a whole minute of silence, and heavy breathing passed, John began to question the younger lad. “Why’d you hit Stuart?”
“Why’d you hit me?!” Paul immediately barked back, lurching forwards only to be stopped by John’s stronger grip on his shoulders.
John couldn’t help but to let out a spasmodic laugh, it caused Paul’s anger to increase slowly but not high enough for him to get physical again. “Because you were talking mad!”
Paul’s face became flushed, and he jerked away fro. John’s grip to head over towards the couch. “You know why I hit Stuart. He’s a shitty bass player, and I want him out.”
John’s eye twitched. “You’re not the leader of this band to be making those decisions.”
Paul paused, looking over his shoulder at John and calmly spoke; “There won’t be a band at all if he’s still in it.”
“What’s your problem with him Paul?” John asked, kissing his teeth as the dark haired man sat down, eyes glued onto the wall in front of him.
John stood and stared intently at Paul, waiting ever so patiently for an answer. When a minute flew by, John cleared his throat and gestured assertively for Paul to speak on the issue.
“It’s- it’s stupid.”
“I’ve seen enough stupidity unfold in front of me today.”
Paul rolled his gorgeous eyes, “It’s because I like you. I’m jealous that he has your attention all of the time.”
John had somewhat felt as if he knew this theory already. Something in his head figured that he had did. Nevertheless, the older man walked over towards Paul who seemed stuck staring at the wall in front of him, ignoring all his other surroundings in fear of a negative reaction.
John gently moved Paul’s face with his hand, having the beauty turn his head towards John’s direction. “You’re unpredictable, you know. Listen Paul, Stuart is irreplaceable.”
Paul was about to say something, but the look on John’s face told him to just bite his tongue and stick around for the high-end of the roller coaster.
“You’re irreplaceable too, but in a different way. I like you too Macca.”
Paul stared into John’s eyes for a moment, and shook his head. “Come off it Lennon.”
”Honest.”
Paul was willing to say something else, until a pair of lips were softly placed on his for a brief second. Paul felt a treasure box of butterflies flutter their wings, and newfound emotions washing over his system that had nothing to do with anger at all. John pulled away, glancing over at the door for a bit just to make sure that no one was nearby. Afterwards, John turned back towards a stunned Paul and sighed.
”Alright, let’s fix you up.”
•••