Warning: Physical violence, physical abuse, verbal abuse, bullying
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8pm rolled around, and at this point, “Another Girl”, the song they were working on, was almost finished. There was just one part left, and that was the part that George had nearly gotten mildly frustrated over for the past 45 minutes.
This was it, the moment he was leading up to, the moment that he nearly shredded his fingers to the point of near non-functioning for. And to think it wasn’t even for his own approval.
He had been anticipating this moment for quite some time, and just once, he wanted to do something that Paul would approve of.
He plucked at the strings of his trusty guitar, hoping that he would finally get this chord right.
He fumbled the last note.
Luckily, John and Ringo were outside by now, getting a break and probably chatting about meaningless shit. So they weren’t about to witness the hell that would occur in the studio.
Unluckily for George, that meant that it was just him and Paul in the studio. Not only that, but Paul was infuriated at George.
“Listen. I practiced that bit. I did. And I thought I got it right.”
“Stop it.”
“I honestly thought it was, and I thought you’d be proud of me. I tried, I really did.”
“Shut up, Hazza.”
“And obviously-”
“You’re not good enough.”
Hazza stopped in his tracks, and he could feel the anxious tears fill the corners of his eyes.
“You’re not. Honestly, you may have impressed John at 14, but now that everyone’s true colors have shown, it shows me something. It shows me that you’re a lackluster dumbass with no technical skill and no redeeming qualities. Hell, at least Ringo’s funny sometimes! You’re just bitter and sad about literally anything that isn’t the way you want it.”
That last part shocked George. But maybe he just needed some outside perspective into his attitude.
“Look, Paul, I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to hold up to your standards. I’ll practice more, I promise.”
“Empty promises won’t solve anything.”
“Not just more! I’ll practice until my fingers fall off and I can’t keep my eyes open. I’ll do whatever it takes to get you back into my good graces. Hell, I’ll even wash your car! Whatever it takes! All I want is-”
Paul unexpectedly struck George with the back of his hand, hitting his face with unbridled rage.
“SHUT UP! JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP! I SWEAR TO GOD YOU DO NOTHING TO ACTUALLY HELP THIS BAND IN ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM! YOU SUCK! JUST FUCKING ACCEPT IT AND LEAVE EVERYONE ALONE! I DON’T FUCKING CARE WHAT YOU WANT, JUST LEAVE! ME! ALONE!”
Throughout this rant, Paul was continuously smacking George. There was some amount of suppressed rage that finally just… leaked out. After a few minutes of this rant, which included much harsher claims about George’s character, a yelp finally pulled Paul out of his thoughts, and he looked at George in horror in the aftermath of what he had done.
George stared harshly at Paul with tears in his eyes, his cheeks red from the impact of Paul’s hands and his eyes red and watery from the impact of Paul’s words.
His stare communicated that he wasn’t going to back down and take it lying down, yet his eyes just wanted it all to end.
“George… I…”
Paul couldn’t finish his thought, and he ran out of the room shocked. George moved to a less visible corner of the room and finally let a tear run down his stricken face.
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Hunter in the Butterfly
FanfictionPaul has enough of George's seemed incompetence, but when he accidentally goes too far in showing his frustration, George feels as though no one has his back. He tries to deal with the situation alone, but Brian pays too much attention to context cl...
