Paul smiled widely at a child's art piece. Front and center was a tall stick figure with a large house behind him and green smoke coming out of it. Speaking of green, that was the only color on the page. But the child drawing it, Mason, seemed to love it that way.

Surrounding them were other little kids that came to the small event at 4 pm. They weren't really surrounding them though, most of them were running around. The kids weren't quiet either. They were either shouting at the top of their lungs, throwing things around, smashing things into other things, or Paul's 'favorite', singing on end the same verse with no signs of stopping.

I wish they'd all shut up! Paul thought angrily. He never thought adorable kids like these could be so. . .infuriating!

He couldn't blame his college for not having a big enough room but he could easily blame the school for bringing more than enough kids. Thank goodness he was paired up with Mason, a nice child who hadn't gotten up for anything other than crayons and paper.

"That's a great drawing, Mason!" Paul beamed, and the child looked at the paper with a smile showing that he was missing one of his front teeth.

"Can I ask who it is?" Paul asked as he looked at the green covered page a bit more closely. Mason nodded and gave another big smile.

"It's you of course, Mr. McCartney," Mason told Paul as he started to add more green to the hair.

"So what grade are you in again?" inquired Paul, shifting his weight from his right leg to his left.

"I'm in 1st grade! Do you want to sit down?" asked Mason, bouncing up and down in place.

Paul nodded and sat on the stool closest to Mason. It creaked ominously, and he tried to distribute his weight as evenly as possible, as it was made for a little kid.

"You seem to be really good at art for a little—uh, I mean first grader," Paul noted.

Suddenly, Paul's phone buzzed in his pocket, making him jump. The stool protested loudly, but Mason didn't seem to notice. Instead, he started to talk quickly:

"Thank you, Mr. McCartney! My mommy says that I'm really good too so she says that's why Santa got me a big box of Crayons and other color stuff!"

"That sounds wonderful, Mason! Do you like all of the crayons you got?"

Mason nodded enthusiastically and went back to his drawing, letting Paul check who texted him. Yes, it was New Year's Eve, but he wanted to get the hands-on training, so he must have told everyone that they couldn't call or text… possibly.

John: Are you ready to have fun tonight?

Paul looked at his phone with confusion and started to type a response.

Me: What fun?

John: Going to the pub of course!

Me: I thought you were joking….

John: Well I wasn't! So, I'm at my school right now getting some supplies…just come by and I'll take you to the place. Ringo's already on his way. And George is at his parents, right?

Me: Yeah…how did you know that?

John: You told me while you were hyper….you're very chatty when you're hyper you know. So are you coming?

Me: Alright, just text me your school's address. I'll be there when I'm done with what I'm doing.

Paul stuffed his phone back into his pocket and opened his mouth to continue talking to Mason. Instead, the bell rang, ending the short class. Mason continued to color the page, not noticing the other children leaving.

"Mason, the class is over. I'm sure you'll have coloring time at home," a professor said softly as he came over to the table the two were at.

Mason looked up instantly at the professor, his bottom lip jutting out along with his eyes getting rounder. To add onto the scene, Mason quickly grabbed Paul's leg, having a surprisingly strong grip.

"But I had fun with Mr. McCartney! Can I stay longer?" the little boy asked.

The professor raised an impressed brow as he scribbled down notes. After writing them down, he then finally talked to the child that was cutting off blood circulation in Paul's leg.

"I'm sorry, time is up right now. Your mom will be waiting for you, although there is a good chance you will meet Mr. McCartney at your school when this starts up again."

"What?" Paul and Mason asked in unison.

Mason finally lost his tight grip so Paul could grasp his hand and not let the younger one squeeze his leg again.

"This was a test to see whether you could properly connect and teach a child something, though I suggest you don't tell your classmates. That goes for both of you. Have a happy New Year," the professor said.

The man quickly walked to the others talking at a table across the room.

"I can't wait to see you again, Mr. McCartney," Mason squealed, and he started to run out of the door, with Paul not too far behind to stop him.

"Neither can I! Do you see your mom anywhere yet?"

The young child looked around at the many cars parked in the parking lot.

"Yeah! The red car right there. It has a smiley face sticker on it." Mason then pointed to it and led Paul all the way there. Paul also made sure to watch for cars coming in and out of the lot. Mason's random burst of energy were also something to watch out for.

"Thank you. See you next time!" Mason said as he got into his mom's car and waved, along with his mother who gave Paul a pretty lengthy thanks.

The second the car left the lot, Paul went to his car and turned on his phone to see the directions. It was actually not too far from his school; not even a mile away.

He drove straight to the building, although having to pull up a GPS when he nearly got lost. Nonetheless, he got to the large building; walking right into it with a spring in his step from earlier that day.

He stopped in his tracks. He finally realized that he had no idea which room John was in, making the short trip a bit longer and much harder.

So of course Paul looked around.

He went into the room closet to him, finding a rather boring computer lecture. Everyone turned to look at Paul with quizzical faces, making the one at question back away awkwardly.

"And what are you doing here?" the man at the podium asked with a raised brow.

"I...um...just looking for someone!" Paul nervously answered. He rushed out of the room, slamming the door with a bang! behind him.

"I'm never taking a computer class," he muttered with a frown. He went over to the next door, which was across the hall.

It was filled with people wearing weird hats. They were in rather uncomfortable looking poses with someone taking pictures of the scene at every angle.

"Hello!" The person taking pictures chirped happily. Everyone looked at Paul's direction, taking a moment of relaxation to wave at him.

"Goodbye!" Paul said with the same amount of enthusiasm. He shut the door in a calmer manner than before, thinking about what happened.

"Not the weirdest thing I've seen in my life," Paul told himself with slight indecisiveness.

He walked to yet another door and swung it open with growing irritation.

"Oh, hello! Are you our other nude model?" someone from behind a canvas asked. Paul was going to ask what that person meant by that when he looked at the center of the circle of canvases. A lady was sitting on a stool, not wearing a single article of clothing and not at all bothered by the people around her. She seemed relaxed about it, too relaxed for Paul's taste.

He didn't answer but ran out of the room. He slammed the door with such strength it was a wonder it didn't break.

"I did not just see that. I did not just see that," Paul continuously murmured to himself in a dazed fashion.

The college student went into a room far down the hall he was in and simply locked himself in it. He continued to tell himself that he didn't see what he just saw until he gathered his wits.

When he did, he looked up and stared in wonder at the person in front of him.

John was sitting quietly in front of a canvas and adding great detail to what he was drawing. What surprised Paul was that he was quiet.

Paul gave the room another look and noticed it was empty, save for himself and John. He might as well say something.

"You never told me you could draw like this!" Paul gasped in amazement.

John jumped but calmly regained his cool by adding a bit to the canvas again.

"Well, there's this cool thing called knocking. . .why didn't you use it?" replied John snidely.

Paul shrugged and looked more closely at the canvas.

"Is that a man looking at a flying thing?" Paul asked John when he finally stopped drawing.

"No, it's a man looking at a four-legged thing. . .there's a difference. Now let's go! Ringo's probably getting started without us!" John then jumped up and dragged Paul out of the school. Somehow got to Paul's car without any help.

"Where's your car?" Paul asked as John was backing out with surprising smoothness.

"Ringo dropped me off so it's with him. He apparently doesn't trust me to drive," John sighed in mock sadness.

Paul laughed along with John and looked out the window to see the rather magnificent building. Seconds later, he was what felt like miles away from it.

"How are you driving this fast without getting pulled over?" Paul shouted as they made a very dangerous turn.

"I may know a couple of policemen," John replied offhandedly as they ran a red light. Paul looked down at his seat belt in fear. He hoped the car dealer was right when he said the safety rating was great.

"Are we almost there yet?" Paul asked after yet another car honked at them. John rolled his eyes.

"Don't worry Macca, just another couple turns."

"I agree with Ringo, you aren't to be trusted with a car."

"I am so! You're not injured, are you?"

"No, but I'm still scared that I will be!"

Another quick series of turns were made, John pulled into a restaurant called The Lansdowne, coming in rather smoothly. The instant the car stopped, Paul jumped out and swayed like a thin branch as he attempted to see if his car was horribly scratched.

"How did you not scratch it?" he mumbled in confusion. John simply smirked with pride and faced The Lansdowne.

"Me being wonderful, that's how. Now come on, there's only 3 hours 'til New Year's!" John then started to drag Paul into the well-lit building.

After a bit of waiting and talking to one of the hostesses, they finally got to the bar, greeted by a bored Ringo.

"I kind of thought you guys forgot about me," Ringo joked as Paul collapsed into the chair next to him.

"How could I?" Paul replied with a snicker. "I was having my life flash before my eyes so you'd be hard to forget."

Ringo's eyes widened. He shook his head while wagging his finger accusingly at Paul.

"That's why you shouldn't let John drive! You're basically asking for a death sentence," said Ringo.

John cleared his throat comically and pouted sadly.

"I'm still here you know. And since you haven't asked, I'll tell you that the car's in one piece!"

"Lucky…he practically destroyed my old car. So as a birthday present he got me a new one."

"No, my Aunt Mimi got you a new car…I just told her I needed a car, to lessen the anger," John cleared up and a waiter came over to take the order.

"Three orders of fish and chips along with the best the place has," Ringo and John told the man simultaneously. The waiter blinked for a moment before writing the order down, walking away in confusion.

"Wait, what do you mean by 'the best the place has'?" Paul asked as he looked at the restaurant's décor. It had a rather friendly feeling to it, with a little club band, people dancing and everything. There was also old boarding on the walls to give it an authentic pub look.

"Oh, don't be innocent! We'll definitely be feeling this tomorrow," John cackled, making what he said seem inevitable.

"Then I need to make a call…because I wouldn't let you drive again even with a lot of alcohol in me," Paul muttered. He walked little while away from his two friends to pull out his phone and call Brian.

"Hi Eppy," Paul called into the phone. A slight chuckle came through from the other end of the line.

"Hello Paul. Anything you need from me?"

It was Paul's turn to laugh and a woman with red hair not too far away heard. She gave a sly grin, getting up and slowly walking to Paul.

"Actually, yeah. Would you be able to pick me and some friends up later? I'll text you the address soon."

Paul over time noticed her. She was pretty but he knew she had something she wanted to do. So ignoring is what came to mind as he talked to Brian.

"I doubt that you would remember this conversation in an hour or two," Brian laughed. "I'll come over around midnight, is that okay?"

"It really is. Thanks for everything Eppy," Paul said gratefully. The redhead came closer and hugged Paul tightly.

"Don't do that," he muttered and pried the woman from his body.

"What was that Paul?" Brian asked.

She poked out her bottom lip, making it quiver like Mason's did earlier that day. But he couldn't compare the two since Mason's was genuine. This one was just a step in a many layered plan. One that Paul wasn't going to be part of.

"Nothing, Brian. I'll just text you the address now. Thanks again," The teaching student simply stated. He hung up, walking back to his friends and away from the mysterious lady.

"And here I thought Paul was a gentleman," John criticised mockingly.

Paul turned around and saw that the redhead was still looking at him. He couldn't put his finger on it but there was something about her. He just didn't know what.

"I am. The ladies can't resist my charm and wit, you know," Paul said with a wink.

"Okay, Paul's no longer a gentleman and John can still crack jokes. Can we just get this New Year started like our founding fathers wanted?" Ringo asked impatiently.

John nodded seriously, with an impish grin contradicting it.

"Ringo's right," John said with a new found wisdom. "Let's get this party started!"

A/N: I'm sure you wanted it in 1st person POV now. Don't worry! The next chapter is exactly that! Don't worry. I'm rather happy with Mason, he's adorable so he'll be fun to have around when I bring him back up later in the story. To those that comment: Who's paying you this large amount? I would like to meet him . . . To those that don't: We seem to be all alone. Maybe commenting will help!