Illegal Love - McLennon and Starrison

Hello, Goodbye

A/N: Happy birthday to my favorite Beatle!

1969

"Dumbass," Paul muttered to himself. Only John Lennon could get in a car accident because he wouldn't wear his glasses.

"Who are you talking to?" Ringo asked.

"Nobody."

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" George shouted from somewhere in the studio.

"I sense trouble." They both ran into the room.

"GODDAMMIT!" he shouted, throwing a packet of biscuits to the ground, spilling them everywhere.

"George, what happened?" Ringo put a hand on his fiancé's shoulder.

"KEEP OUT OF ME STUFF, BITCH!" George yelled at Yoko, whom had crawled off into her bed.

"George, what's going on?!" Paul made a grab for him as he ran off.

"BITCH STOLE ME FUCKING BISCUIT!"

"THE HELL IS THIS, HARRISON?!" John stood in the doorway. "Who do you think you are?!"

"Who do I think I am?! YOUR
BUTT-UGLY WITCH OF A WIFE OR GIRLFRIEND OR WHATEVER NEEDS TO KEEP HER DISGUSTING PAWS OFF OF ME FUCKING BISCUITS!"

"And this is why you don't mess with George's food," Ringo whispered. Paul just nodded in agreement.

---

"Okay, fuck this, fuck that, and fuck you!" Paul shouted. "I can't believe this! Choosing her over me, you bastard! I should've known you always hated me!"

"I didn't hate you, but I sure do now!" John snarled. "You're such a child, throwing a temper tantrum like this!"

"You're involved in it too!" he shot back. "I'm sick of this shit, I don't know what you see in her!"

"Excuse me?!"

"You heard me! Next you're going to tell me that rumor about you blowing Brian and the things that happened during your trip to Spain are true!" Silence. "Oh my god," Paul whispered. "You didn't. Tell me you didn't! Look me in the eye and tell me you didn't do it!"

"I..." John didn't even look at him. "I..."

"I can't believe this. I can't believe any of this! Goddammit, I thought you loved me! I'm such an idiot! Goodbye, John!"

"What do you mean, "goodbye"?!"

"I mean I quit. There's no more Beatles. They're officially dead. Hope it was worth it, Lennon." Paul stomped out the door, ignoring the cries for him to come back. "Fuck everything!" He kicked a trash can over, denting it. "I HATE EVERYTHING AND MYSELF!"

---

"Mr. McCartney, have you really left The Beatles?" the reporter asked.

"Yes, I have." Paul continued walking.

"Why?"

"John's an arsehole, that's why!" He stomped off, hearing girls scream his name.

"He can't be leaving, he just can't!" one cried in anguish.

"Shut up!" He punched the door of his apartment, screaming out of frustration and pure rage. "Still hate everything!" He unlocked the door and flopped face-down onto his bed. "Fuck me and The Beatles!" There was a knock. "Fuck off!"

"Paul, it's us!" George called.

"And me!" Ringo added.

"Okay," Paul whispered, opening the door.

"So you're really leaving," George said evenly.

"Yes. I can't do it anymore, everything hurts."

"We know, Macca, we know," Ringo tried to reassure him.

"JOHN USED TO CALL ME MACCA!" he wailed, falling onto his bed again. "I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM!"

"PAUL! Get ahold of yourself!" George sat on his kicking legs as Ringo kneeled next to him. "You don't really hate him, do you?"

Paul wiped his face off. "N - no, I love him with all me heart. I could never hate him."

"Alright, that's good."

"How is that good?!" he snapped.

"What Ringo is trying to say is that hating him won't get you anywhere," George explained.

"Peace and love," Ringo added.

Paul giggled a bit at that. "You're right, it'll get me nowhere. I'm so lucky to have friends like you two."

"And we're lucky to have you."

---

"John? What is it?" Yoko asked curiously.

"Nothing, love, just thinking about our band." That was partially true, but his mind was set mostly on Paul. Did he make the wrong decision?

"I'm sorry. Just remember this; if you ever need to talk, I'm always here for you. Okay?"

"Okay." He trudged off to their room, falling back on their bed. "Oh, Paulie, I still love you. I hope you know that. Nobody in the world is going to stop me, I don't care what they think." He bit his lip. "But I love Yoko, we understand each other. Then again, you understand me, too."

"John, John! Look!" Yoko threw the door open, thrusting an open envelope into his hands.

"I'm looking, I'm looking!" John fumbled with it for a bit. "Shit." He groped around blindly. "My glasses."

"It's an invitation to George and Ringo's wedding," she told him. "And no, I haven't seen your glasses."

"Alright, alright. When is it?"

"Just a few days, actually! They found someone who is willing to wed them, isn't that wonderful?" She helped him stand up. "And Paul is going to be the best man!"

"Yeah, Paul," he whispered.