How to Change the World

Chapter 1

It was the summer of 1965, the Beatles' European tour had just begun, and despite the mountains of praise the group received, Paul still felt a great amount of dismay. Fondly remembered in his mind were the streets of Paris, hiding personal secrets of his own past. But there not only fondness within these bustling streets, there was still a pang of sorrow. Certain memories were conjured as they traveled the narrow streets crowded by buildings. Paul could only remember the trip he and John took four years ago through this rich city. Now forever implanted in his mind, Paul allowed himself to reminisce once more of the sleepless nights he and John spent here. Paul leaned softly against the window of the automobile, resting himself on the glass. Small streets disappeared in the periphery of his vision, and they were soon close to the George V hotel the group was to spend the afternoon in. The bassist's eyes crept over to John's figure sitting next to him on the leather seats, his vision resting for a while on his friend. Paul's eyes explored John's boy, eventually resting his vision on John's hands. One insignificant quality of his friend were the beautiful hands he had, but it was only one plus to the intricacy that is John Lennon. Once his eyes found their way to the face of the man sitting next to him, he caught Paul's eye, flashing him a small vibrant smile. There was a little sense of longing in the bassists eye, and though John's eyesight was poor, anyone could decipher what Paul was thinking behind those hazel specks. Those lingering eyes fell once again on the outside, his thoughts interrupted when the car door opened.

Around fifty groupies were outside the hotel, waiting for the Beatles arrival, but the crowd wasn't a large screaming mob. Paul tried to ignore it as a guard escorted him out of the car, along with the rest of The Beatles. Few seconds passed and they made it into the lobby, which was quite beautiful, actually. Paul remembered the marble floors, the glistening chandelier. Though this level of elegance was no stranger, Paul was trying hard to distract himself from his own thoughts. He had a tendency to over think things... a lot. Too much. Maybe just a little.

Brian was at the counter in the lobby, checking in the group so they could stay at the hotel a few hours before having to perform on stage. Quickly he was finished, and the group was escorted to their rooms, though Paul wondered why they needed so much assistance, they were grown men after all.

It was hard, because Paul's eyes kept insisting on looking at John's. The whole aura of Paris made him bring back so many memories. The very man he was pining for was ignorantly staring at the floor of the elevator they were standing in.

His eyes fell over his auburn locks, cascading so perfectly over his creamy white skin. His lips pressed into a thin line; how he wished he could just.

Just...

John had a soft chestnut coloured eye, under a harsh scruffy brow and voluminous eyelashes. He really couldn't handle it much longer, he couldn't stand John's body involuntarily teasing him so. Why of all the people he could have fallen in love with... why did it have to be John? The one person he couldn't have. Slowly his mind turned against him, remembering again the moonlight night in Paris. That night he realized he was so hopelessly, desperately in love with his band mate and friend. He remembered what it was like to see John under the stars, face lit only by the moonlight washing over them, eyes sparkling from the starlight. They sat there on a fountain and John didn't even look directly at him at first, but when he did and met his eyes, his heart beat harshly against his ribcage. It physically hurt to even look at him, but it was the kind of pain you just pushed through. And then he realized, he was so desperately in love...

In that moment he realized, he didn't want to be famous; he didn't want all the money in the world. He just wanted John. He wanted to wake up next to him every day; he wanted to stay in his arms forever. But he couldn't.

And if he was just half as happy as he was in the moments he spent time with John, he'd be the happiest person alive. It was all that ever mattered.