(disclaimer rly old and bad!!!)
- Paul McCartney is the son of a wood chopper, barely scrounging on their savings to afford clothes and meals. As for John Lennon, it is quite the opposite. He is a prince , son of Mary - or Mimi, as she is called, th...
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(u cannot tell me they arent all fukin baked in this pic like omfg im cryig)
april 1859
"It's gonna be okay, Paul, really-"
"No! No, it's not!" The nearly-seventeen-year-old-boy was pacing fervently back and forth in the rickety, worn down McCartney barn, kicking up stray bundles of straw in frustration. Three quite exasperated boys watched on, trying their best to calm the distressed boy down. "I-I haven't even been able ta practice proper 'cause of me da' groundin' me an' other things comin' up, 'm gonna be shit! I'll never get the fuckin' job!"
"Hey, hey, Macca-" John immediately stood up and moved to stand in front of Paul and stop his pacing, concerned and trying to diffuse his boyfriend's anxiety. "It's okay, love. You'll be fine; ye play so good, honestly! Yer a fuckin' natural, if they can't see that it's their loss. There's plenty other bars an' places ye can play for." He wrapped an arm around his waist to bring him gently to sit on a stack of hay, the distant noises of the horses and livestock rustling and eating their dinner filling their ears. It was the day of the audition and Paul was an absolute wreck as you could all tell; worried that he wasn't good enough and didn't practice enough and wouldn't get the job. All of them continued to assure him that he was great and would do fine, probably better than half the people who were auditioning etc, but it still didn't help. The only thing that would help is to go and get it over with before Paul popped all the veins in his neck.
"Y-yeah.. thanks, John. But, I dunno... I still haven't been able ta practice as much as I wanted to.. I'm not good enough yet." The sable-haired boy rested his elbows on his knees with a huff, rubbing harshly at his forehead as he tried to calm himself. The three boys watched on almost helplessly, George leaning against the rotting wall of the barn behind them, Ringo sitting next to him on the floor, getting distracted by Paul's horse, named Ginny, trotting to the edge of its pen and sniffing them curiously to see if they had any apples for him to munch on.
"You are good, love! Trust me, yer fuckin' great. You'll do fine. Please.... don't stress yerself too much abou' it. We're gonna be here th' entire time with ya." John's arm snaked to rest on his boyfriend's hip and he smiled warmly and pressed a kiss to the side of his cheek, Paul immediately leaning into it and resting his head on the older's shoulder with a sigh. George watched on with a small smile, feeling extremely accomplished. Him and Ringo had been told that day of Paul and John's consummated relationship and the two had freaked out for a while, revelling in their joy of their best friends finally getting together. It was great.