Chapter Text
The year is 1956 at least 3 years since George really met his bandmate ‘Paul McCartney’. The day was relatively boring. The only thing that comes to mind is that bus window. The way McCartney looked at it giggling, laughing like he had no cares in the world. Like he was living in bliss. George dreaded that bus ride as soon as he noticed the only open seat was next to the freak giggling to himself like a drunk. He swallowed the pill and sat down avoiding eye contact.
“Is he drunk?”
George thinks as he looks at the figure beside him. He inches farther from Paul as if afraid to interact with.. ‘It.’ His eyes darted to the window at Paul's wide hazel doe eyes followed by a soft giggle barely audible.
“It's almost like he's never seen reflection in his life.”
George's mind keeps speaking to him questioning why some teenager is just giggling with zero worries about anything. To George's surprise the giggling stops and Paul turns to face him.
“Oh, hello? Do I know you?”
Paul smiles wide, his bright white teeth could light up a room if he really tried the way the curves of his mouth reached his eyes. It's clear he's sincere in his greeting. Despite the gap between them Paul closes it by holding out his hand. George just stares at him in utter confusion and disgust. He clears his throat.
“Why were you giggling at yourself?”
George raises an eyebrow as he speaks he wants to understand the thought process between the man. Paul breaks into a fit of giggles again which just leaves George more confused than when they started.
“I just saw my reflection. It's rare to see it in such cold weather, y'know?”
George opens his mouth to speak but Paul keeps rambling.
“Like the fog covers the window and-”
Paul cuts himself off patting the space next to him a silent “come closer”
“If you just put your breath on the window like this-”
Paul demonstrates he leans close to the glass his nose nearly touching the cold surface he releases a puff of air making the window fog up. Then he wipes it away revealing his mirrored face beneath.
“So you've been giggling at your reflection?”
George folds his arms inching closer without conscious or reason. Something about Paul is striking, maybe it's his giggly nature, or his wide hazel eyes. Paul smiles at George with a nod.
“Yep! I've been looking at my own face for nearly ten minutes.”
George looks back at the taller man; it seems he finds joy out of the little things. George's eyes drift to the guitar case beneath McCartney's feet; he doesn't comment on it. But he puts two and two together.
“The bloke is a musical freak? Or maybe plays in a band.. or is it just a hobby?”
Paul looks back out the window and Penny Lane gets into view; a road he'd go to just to kill time after school. George hardly goes there unless it's with family. He doesn't have many friends. He just finds himself in the same loop. Home, school, home repeat. It must be nice to have others who care who you can laugh with. George sits in suffocating silence til Paul opens his mouth.
“Are you interested in joining a band? I know it's sudden but I'm desperate.”
Paul's tone catches George off guard. This is the same man who was giggling at mirrored reflections, now he suddenly looks serious? George takes a breath. This is not a question he was prepared to answer at seven o'clock.
“I'm not sure if I have the musical talent.”
George swallows as if nervous to decline such an offer. He fiddles with his fingers as Paul's face softens.
“I'm sure you will play fine! Anybody can play skiffle, you just need a stick or something. If it can make noise it works.”
Paul seems determined to get this guy to join. A person he just met on the bus? To join a band that he never signed up for. Interesting..
“Well-”
George cuts in and he remembers faint memories of playing the guitar. Begging his mother for it, despite their financial situation. The way his fingers would play over frets playing the same songs over and over again til he got the right tune.
“I have a guitar, is that good enough? I mean it could use more practice of course..”
George's voice trails off, unsure this is such an opportunity, a chance to really shine outside of the dull school life he's been living for most of his 14 years of life. Paul smiles, crossing his legs.
“Thats more than enough! That's a whole instrument right there y'know?”
Paul hands him a note before George can open his mouth.
“Meet me down at Penny Lane. I have a friend to introduce you to. Don't be late.”
At Paul's final words he turns to George with narrow eyes as if saying “Show up.” without truly speaking his mind. George nods and pockets his note.
Five o'clock rolled by. All day George couldn't stop thinking about that morning, that bus ride, the stern face Paul shot him after handing him a note. He has to follow through there's no way he wouldn't take up this opportunity. George sits in his bus seat and guitar case beside him as he slowly waits for the stop at Penny Lane. George looks out the window breathing on the glass like Paul did; he smudges it away to see his reflection. George can't even react til he feels the bus come to a stop. Finally Penny Lane. He rushes off the bus determined to find Paul. Each step down feels like freedom, a chance to express who he is without meaningless studies getting in the way. He runs around trying to find Paul and a thought crosses his mind.
“Did he trick me? Was it fooled?”
Just as he thought that he saw it, Paul leaning against a railing with another teddy boy.
“I swear my Aunt Mimi is being too cruel she goes on and on about-”
The Teddy boy talking to Paul changes his tone to sound like his nagging Aunt while he flutters his eyelashes putting his hands together
“You need to go to church, you need to study, you need to do this. Ugh-”
The teddy boy groans pulling out a box of cigarettes from his leather jacket lighting it. Paul chuckles subtly, his shoulders shaking as he represses full fits of laughter. George just watches then he slowly approaches Paul tapping his shoulder.
“Oh hey! Look who arrived.” Paul leans down, getting down to George's height with a teasing smirk. The other teddy boy still holding his cigarette just looks at George with wide eyes then settles on a disgusted look. He takes a drag of his cigarette.
“I thought you weren't gonna follow through.”
George doesn't even notice the teddy boy he's focused on Paul, his bright eyes and teasing tint.
“I told you I'm down. You wouldn't believe the bus ride I mean-”
George gets cut off by the other Teddy Boy
“Who the fuck are you?”
He asks, voice dripping with disdain while gripping his cigarette tighter making his knuckles go white. Paul's eyes widen momentarily stepping between them.
“Where's my manners?”
Paul clears his throat gesturing to George.
“John, this is George. And George, this is John.”
John glares down at the shorter boy scoffing.
“Macca.”
He turns to face Paul putting out his cigarette on the railing. Before whispering to Paul not wanting George to overhear. John grabs Paul by the collar not lifting him off the ground but just holding him firm.
“Who the hell is that? He looks like a second grader.”
Paul rolls his eyes gently pulling John's hand off him.
“Lennon, that's my friend George.”
Bold of Paul to call George ‘his friend’ they just met on the bus and Paul acts like they go way back? It's ridiculous. Paul holds John's hand away from himself; he knows how this guy gets when he's fussy or irritated. John scoffs grumbling like a disgruntled cat.
“I thought I was your only friend Macca. I didn't know you had any.”
He keeps his arms crossed giving subtle glares at George. George just stands there not knowing if he should intervene or run. He's not eavesdropping but he can sense this whisper fight is about him. Paul takes a deep breath silently counting to three.
“Lennon is Dense.”
Paul thinks he wouldn't dare to say it out loud but insulting him like that would get him punched. He speaks clearly and calmly as if trying to get through John's head.
“Relax. George is here for the band. We have been lacking members ever since you kicked out Stuart Sutcliffe.”
Paul jabs John in the chest with narrow eyes. John's eyes widen slightly; he wasn't expecting his band decisions to be thrown back in his face; he grumbles something under his breath. “Macca and his short little boyfriend.”
“Fine! Fine. I'll be nice.”
John holds his hands up in mock surrender then shifts his attention to George.
“Mind if I light a fag?”
John pulls out another cigarette from his leather jacket which makes Paul pinch his nose. To George's surprise John pulls out two handing one to George. Paul is still trying to calm down before he even utters a word. John takes a drag of his cigarette; smoke comes out of it then he pulls it from his lips now starting some conversation.
“So George why are you here and not just-”
His tone shifts back to that whiny girl voice he was using to mock his aunt.
“Oh Macca invited me!”
His voice shifts back to normal as he eyes George up and down.
“I mean, why are you actually here.”
His eyes remained narrowed on George. Paul just sighs stepping over speaking before George has a chance to even spit out a word.
“I told you he's here for the band, it's not my fault your little pea brain can't comprehend it.”
He flicks John's forehead. John doesn't press or complain, he rolls his eyes once more.
“I don't know, he seems..”
John's voice trails off, he eyes George up and down before continuing his sentence.
“too young for the band.”
His eyes shift to Paul adding with a teasing glint in his voice
“And you look damn near ten with your baby face.”
He puts out his cigarette on Paul's hand with a subtle smirk. Paul flicks the ash off him, his eyes twitch in sharp annoyance as he smiles trying to keep his composure.
“Ha ha. Very funny. Lennon. Can you just be normal? We have company and I want this introduction to go well.”
John keeps looking at Paul unbothered.
“Well you expect us to play guitar in public? Or were you praying I take you both to my house?”
He keeps his smirk. Paul is fed up already but he's trying to keep this session calm and welcoming for George.
“I was thinking I bring you two over to my house, it's quite empty ya know.”
He looks at John adding a subtle jab.
“And there's no aunts who'll interrupt our craft.
Paul smirks expecting John to fight back but instead he shrugs.
“Good enough for me.”
He starts walking without George or Paul. After a while they arrive at Paul's house, a tall gate up front that's locked with a garden in view.
“Alright, I'll unlock it.”
Paul smiles before climbing over the fence falling into a shrub. George thought he was gonna grab a key or something and not practically break into his own house. George looks at John who seems amused as if he's seen this more than once. Paul dusts himself off, pushing open the gate. John walks forward flicking a coin at Paul as if he's some servant. George just follows close behind his guitar case hanging in his right hand.
“Well here we are.”
Paul steps inside of his living room the grand piano on display with folders upon folders of Lennon and McCartney 'originals’
“Wow Macca couldn't be bothered to clean?”
Paul huffs. At John's comment.
“We're going upstairs anyway, that's where I keep my bass.”
John whispers to George
“Could you believe this guy?”
He chuckles as Paul walks up the steps expecting the two to follow. George just pokes him back as if they haven't just met two moments ago. Paul pushes his bedroom door open revealing a king sized bed with a desk covered in notebook paper (some have doodles that John drew during their writing sessions for “creative vision") But there in the corner of his room was his Bass. George looks at it and he can't help but notice how it looks flipped.
“Normally guitars are flipped to the right, not left… Did he re-string a guitar just to play it left-handed?”
George thinks as Paul sits on his bed.Patting the space next to him. John climbs on beside him leaving some space for George if he ever decides to join the two.
“Well, let's see what you got.”
John yawns, gesturing to George's guitar case while Paul tunes his own Bass. George nods, unpacking his guitar getting ready to play for a crowd of people. Though that crowd is only two teenagers who are barely older than him. To fill the awkward silence Paul just plucks random strings on his Bass.
“You ready?”
Paul offers with a smile giving George as much time as he needs to show off his musical capabilities. George looked more nervous than usual. This is his one chance to change his life. He can't screw this up so with shaky fingers he starts playing some cords making a melody with basic plucks. John's eyes widen, he underestimated George's talent. Paul claps.
“Bravo! You might be fit to actually join! I knew you could do it.”
Paul smiles while John scoffs reluctantly.
“It was good.”
Paul elbows him while George's eyes light up from the praise. Two men who are older than him are praising him for basic guitar capabilities? Oh this changes everything.