It was early December of 1961, and you had made plans to go to an awfully randy pub with Paul, John, Stuart, George, and Pete. However, these plans had led you towards waiting outside for an hour in excruciatingly cold, European December weather, alongside a miffed coterie.

You’d gotten into some petty argument with Stuart regarding Paul’s irritating absence, simply because he didn’t want to wait for Paul (who was obviously not coming) anymore. You and the group were standing in the middle of the whipping, cold air, in an alleyway that you usually went down for a smoke — and the bruising impact of the frequent breezes was definitely a contributor to everyone’s irritability. However, you stood up for Paul, and stubbornly insisted that he was just late. They ended up leaving you alone to wait for him yourself.

Paul was jealous of Stuart. Everyone knew it. He insisted — albeit not directly to your face — that you preferred Stuart over him, and it was a petty bickering that consisted through the years. You were 100% certain that was why he wasn’t coming, and it made you incredibly upset, to say the least. He thought you preferred Stuart, but he was unaware of the fact that you’d just (very stubbornly) defended Paul for being “late”. It was infuriating just how wrong Paul truly was.

After awhile of sitting and staring off, you’d decided to walk back to your shared hotel room with him, to see if he was there. Unfortunately, though; the plan worked. When you walked into the room, there he was — in the middle of a shag with some random lass. You had defended him for ditching your plans, meanwhile he was ditching you in lieu of some random bird. What a fucking arsehole.

“What the fuck, {{user}}?” Paul groaned, clearly displeased with the interruption.