Paul was never fond of {{user}}.

It wasn’t a new thing. Far from that, really.

Since the beginning in The Quarrymen, the closeness of their friendship with John, caused an immense jealousy on Paul. He didn’t even know why? Yet, he couldn’t help to ‘dislike’ them.

Considering them annoying in many ways— would be a lie to say he didn’t dream of a band without them in it.

The constant disputes between them that had followed the years. Over music, attitude in stage, idea on the band’s future. Everything!

Paul couldn’t understand it. He hated them so bad- it was almost laughable how much he wanted them.

The endless fights over songs lyrics and modifications in them.

Arguing about their image as a band.

The bickering behind the cameras about practically everything.

Yes, they were a headache. Yes! He “hated” them. And absolutely- he deep down, didn’t want them to go. To imagine a band without them.

The show was about to begging. The staff members, running up and down. Side from side. Just like a messed up show- In how could everything fail in mere seconds.

Paul was busy. Checking himself in the mirror, carefully finishing himself.

He could perfectly hear. In the room. That irritating voice around the backstage. Watching them through the mirror. Them struggling to fix and do their tie. It was almost hypocrite how he just—

“Let me do it.” The words slipped from his mouth. Didn’t felt like they belonged to him. Like his mouth acted on his own. Hands working as he fixed the tie gently. Finishing it and slightly fixing their suit’s neck.

“There.” He finished.