For Tomorrow - McLennon AU

23.

15th November, 1955

"So, you wrote these songs... In 4 days?" A shocked Stuart asked, looking through Paul's notes with his mouth open.

"Mhm." Paul nodded, hoping they liked them.

"These 5 songs.... In 4 days?" He sounded flabbergasted.

"Aye."

"W- I..." Stuart looked up at him in shock.

"Let's have a look." Ringo suggested, climbing from his drum kit and heading over to Paul, Stuart and John. The bassist handed him the notes, and Ringo looked through them. "Chains, I saw her standing there, Hello little girl, Penny Lane and... Hey Jude?"

"Yeah." He nodded.

"How?"

"Boredom... 7 hours of being alone, I suppose."

"But they're so... Good?" Stuart added.

"Course they are. Our Paulie is made for writing songs, aren't you?" John added, smiling.

"He definitely is!" Ringo smiled.

"Can I 'ave a look?" George asked, looking over for the notes.

"Course."

The lads all looked through the notes for a while longer, completely in awe at how a 14 year old boy could write such powerful lyrics.

"Who's Jude?" Asked George.

"Whoever you want him to be." Paul smiled.

He looked at John from the corner of his eye, who shook his head.

"No, Macca." He whispered.

"Please, Johnny... They're amazing! Please show them, just for me?" John looked up and Paul, sighing.

"Fine. But only for you, Macca."

Paul grinned.

"And John wrote some of his own, didn't you?"

"A-Aye." He nodded, nervously, reaching into his pocket.

The older boy handed Stuart two sheets of paper, the words 'All I gotta do' and 'That'll be the day' wrote at the top.

"John..." Stuart smiled. "I didn't know you were capable of it."

"Let's 'ave a look." George reached for one of the sheets, Ringo for the other.

"John, this is... something..." Ringo spoke out.

"Johnny, Paulie... If you can both write as good as this, then why don't you write more together?" George suggested, his eyes brightening up at the thought. "Oh, it'll be amazing!"

"He's right, you know." Ringo smiled, handing John back his notes.

"A-Alright." They both stuttered out at the same time, smiling too.

"I say we play 'Hey Jude' first." Stuart suggested. "That's my personal favourite of yours Paul."

"Aye."

"Same 'ere."

"There's a piano in the church, Mac- Paul." John corrected himself. "Come on, we can wheel it in for you, Paulie."

"Yeah, I'll practice my parts. Go help them, Georgie." Stuart suggested.

The boys headed out to grab the piano.

-

"I can't wait until we can try and get a record deal or somethin'." John smiled, looking up to the night sky.

"Me neither." Paul smiled. "The practice was great."

"I'm glad we have you instead of Shotten. You're not an arsehole to George, and you're great."

"Shotten was probably great too."

"Yeah, but not as good as you. He didn't write 5 songs in 4 days."

As Paul was forming a response, the words suddenly died on his tongue. He felt sick, all of a sudden, vision blurry...

His chest felt like it was tightening, so fast...

He couldn't keep up...

"John..." He whimpered out.

"Yeah?" He turned to look at Paul, who had stopped walking, his hand on his heart, now shaking. "Macca?!" John wrapped both arms around the boy.

Paul began to breath heavily, eyes wide open and staring at the sky. He grabbed John, leaning his head into his neck, his breath still heavy..

"J-John..." He was having a panic attack, which John understood.

"Hey, shhhh Macca... You're alright, hun..." He whispered into his ear, running his hand through his hair.

The two of them stood in the middle of the path, Paul's head in the crook of John's neck, eyes now tightly shut as he breathed uncontrollably. John began to whisper sweet things to him, to help him calm down.

It lasted around two minutes, until Paul's breathing steadied, and he began to cry. Hard.

"Don't... Don't wanna... L-Lose you..." Paul sobbed into John's T-Shirt, the older boy's arms tightening around him. "Can't-..."

"Oh, Macca..." John felt his eyes water too. "I don't wanna l-lose you either, baby."

"I can't leave you behind. I can't... But I'm scared, Johnny." He cried. "You'll be old... And- And, we..."

"I know, I know."

"I have... More friends here than e-ever. A-And... And you, Mimi..." He clutched onto John, as if a gust of wind was about to take him away. "I love you. I love you. I love you." Paul repeated.

John began to sob too.

"I-I love you t-too..." His tears fell into the younger boys hair. "But... I'm acceptin'... That I- I may loose you, Macca..."

"N-No..." He cried, hiding his face.

"Yes." John croaked out. He took a deep breath. "Your, your mother... She- She told you that 'sooner or later, every last echo fades' d-didn't she?" He told the sobbing boy, trying to keep his own cool to calm the other.

"Mmmmm."

"Everythin' good eventually must come to an end, Macca." John told him, tears still falling from his eyes. "And- And like you said, we're gonna make the most from the time we have."

"M-Mhm..." His tears slowed down, but his head remained tucked into John's shirt and neck. "But... Please, J-Johnny... Hold me."

"Of course." John did just that, hugging him even tighter. "Of course."

After a few more seconds of their embrace, Paul spoke up.

"J-Johnny... I love you." His shaky voice told him.

"And I love you too... And I'll never love anybody other than you, my Macca."

And they stood there, in the cold winter air, until the snow began to fall, and they decided to finally head home.

-
(A/N- I made myself cry writing this. I'm sorry if I made you cry too.)