"You and me were raised in the same part of town, we got these scars from the same grounds. Remember how we used to kick around just wasting time?

We're just swimming 'round in our glasses, and talking out of our asses, like we're all gonna make it.

You know I'm always coming back to this place." - A.M. - One Direction.

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Over the passed week or so, Paul had barely even spoken about what happened that night with Daisy. Sure, he had turned up for band practice but he didn't really open up about whether it was still playing on his mind or not. He avoided as many questions from his dad as possible to avoid the awkwardness. Mike continued to push his buttons, but Paul didn't react, he just shoved it off. He was trying to be better, to be happier and not as easy to wind up. He wanted the old Paul back.

"Paul, would you mind getting the door? I'm making a cup of tea." Jim called from the kitchen to Paul. Paul sighed and climbed off his bed, switching his record player off before making his way down the stairs and toward the door. He scowled slightly, recognising the figure behind the glass. He quickly opened the door, revealing George stood behind it, and smiled.

"Hello." George grinned, looking up at Paul.

"Are you alright, mate?" Paul tilted his head, raising his eyebrows.

"I am, thanks. Are you? Can I come in?" George asked, stepping closer to the door.

"Yeah, yeah, of course." Paul nodded, holding the door open for him and closing it once he came all the way inside. "I'm doing alright, thanks. I was just trying out a couple of new records upstairs."

"Nice, which ones?" George followed Paul toward the front room, "Hello, Mr. McCartney!" He beamed, looking over at Jim before walking into the front room.

"Oh, hello, George!" Jim smiled kindly, waving from the kitchen.

"I've got a couple of new Elvis records, they sound great. Everything sounds great on the record player that dad bought me!" Paul's eyes widened with a grin.

"You /have/ to show me! In fact, that would be a great idea for what I have planned..." George wiggled his eyebrows, sitting down.

"Oh, god. What have you got planned?" Paul chuckled, shaking his head.

"Me and the lads have been thinking... The old Paul has gotten lost somewhere, and we want to try and bring him back. We were thinking of having a night over at John's flat... Probably the last time we'll all be there seen as John is struggling to keep up with the rent. Hopefully we can try and cheer you up." George raised his eyebrows, awaiting Paul's reaction.

"A night at John's flat, hm? I'm sorry, but if inviting girls to be all over me to try and 'bring the old Paul back' while knocking back god knows how many bottles of beer, I'm afraid I don't think it will work." Paul chewed the inside of his cheek, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Oh, no. No girls, just us. The band. Well, Stu is busy and I think Pete is helping with his mum at The Casbah, but... We can have a lads night." George smiled widely.

"You're telling me that John has agreed to host a night at his flat with /no/ girls invited?" Paul scowled, trying not to laugh.

"Yes! It took a lot of convincing, let me tell you." George laughed out his words. "But, he's missing his mate. We all are. It's been a long time since we just hung out as a band!"

"Wow, I never thought I'd hear that." Paul shook his head in disbelief.

"What do you say, then?" George bit his lip.

"Yeah, sure. Why not? I trust you guys to host a good night." Paul shrugged, nodding.

"Great!" George's eyes lit up, "Come on, then!"

"What, we're going now?" Paul's eyes widened slightly.

"Yeah, come on!" George stood up, gesturing toward the door.

"Alright, alright." Paul chuckled, also standing up and brushing down the front of his t-shirt. They both walked out of the front room and toward the door, looking back at Paul's father, "Dad, I'm going out to John's for a bit with George. I don't know when I'll be back." He called to Jim while slipping on his shoes before quickly running upstairs to grab the new Elvis records, carefully holding them under his arm as he came back down.

"Alright, be careful getting there!" Jim nodded, smiling at Paul and George and waving at them as they opened the door.

"Bye, Jim!" George grinned, waving back at him along with Paul.

Once outside, they each lit up a cigarette, puffing on them as they walked.

"I have some change in my pocket, shall we get the bus?" Paul asked, jingling the change in his hand.

"Sure, mate. I told him to expect us any time now." George shrugged, nodding.

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"Not today, thanks!" A voice shouted from behind the door at Paul and George after they knocked. They both laughed to themselves, waiting outside with their hands in their jacket pockets to keep warm. The door slowly opened, but only enough so that the figure could look through the small gap, "May I help you?"

"Oh, come off it, John! It's bloody freezing!" Paul exclaimed, pulling his jacket tighter around him.

"Oh, quit your bloody whining." John rolled his eyes playfully, opening the door fully and letting them both in as George chuckled behind. John closed the door behind them and shook his head, making his way into the living room with them, "Right, lads, drinks?"

"Lemonade." Paul nodded.

"I'm sorry, I don't think they do alcoholic lemonade, Macca." John joked.

"I'm not really feeling alcohol." Paul shrugged.

"Suit yourself. George?" John arched a brow, heading toward the kitchen.

"I'll have a cuppa, please." He responded.

"Christ! What's the matter with you two?!" John exclaimed, grabbing himself a bottle of beer while setting the kettle to boil, dropping a tea bag into George's cup.

"We're not here to have a piss up, John! We're just here to chill out and discuss what we can do next." George smiled.

"Yeah, if we got drunk we'd probably end up accidentally booking us in for a gig half way across the world." John laughed, opening his fridge and looking around.

"Exactly!" George laughed, looking over at Paul as he laughed along.

"Erm, Paul..." John cleared his throat.

"Yes?" Paul looked over at him.

"Instead of lemonade, how do you feel about... Flat lemonade... Without the lemon?" He asked in an uneasy tone as he brought both George's tea and Paul's glass into the front room.

"John, are you trying to say you've got me a glass of water?" Paul scowled and took the glass. John watched, trying not to laugh as Paul took a sip. "Oh, for Christ sake!" Paul shouted, handing him the glass back. "I'll have a bloody beer, then!"

"Ha! I knew you'd say it." John cackled, taking the glass back from him and walking into the kitchen to replace the glass of water with a bottle of beer. Paul quickly jumped up and placed one of his records on John's record player, hearing John's shout of approval from the kitchen.

"And if he's having one and you're having one, I'll have one!" George called over the music, waving his arms. John grabbed three bottles of beer and walked back into the front room with them, handing both Paul and George one each.

"Do you think this flat will be a museum when we get famous?" John asked, sitting down in his arm chair and taking a drink from his beer.

"Oh, yeah, fifty pound per entry fee!" Paul laughed out his words, "We really need to get ourselves either a decent manager or ask Alan if we can go elsewhere."

"What do you mean?" George questioned, tilting his head slightly.

"Well, you know, Liverpool and Hamburg are great and all, but don't you want us to get ourselves out there? We need to spread our names around more than just two cities!" Paul widened his eyes, tapping his fingers against the neck of his bottle.

"Yeah, you've got a point. But Alan says that now we're known in Hamburg, we'll get bigger audiences so we'll be able to play bigger venues!" John gasped.

"But would you rather get bigger and bigger in Hamburg and stay only there, or would you rather start making small impacts on different places and build each one of them up? Before you know it, everyone will know who we are!" Paul sat up properly, taking another drink from his bottle.

"Bloody hell, that's a bit of a long shot." George chuckled.

"He's right, we can do it! In theory... We just need to convince Alan to take us elsewhere." John shrugged.

"I can't help but get the feeling that he's getting sick of us." George sniggered.

"It'll be his bloody loss if he lets us go and we make it big!" John laughed, sipping at his beer.

"Do you think he will?" Paul asked, "We're up shit creek if he does."

"Bollocks! Someone will take us on!" John shook his head.

"You know, you think very highly of us considering that we've never even released any music." George spoke against his bottle.

"We need to! As long as we can be confident, hopefully a contractor will notice how serious we are about it." John replied, shrugging.

"Hmm.. I get that, I just don't want to get my hopes up, just for them to be thrown in my face when we have to go out and get a different job." George frowned.

"God, you sound like my dad!" Paul rolled his eyes playfully, shaking his head, "We can do this. As long as we vow to always put our effort in, we can. Me, you, John, Pete, Stu. We've just got to keep pushing."

"Yes, well, if Stu was actually with us for half of the time we played, that would be nice of him." John squinted his eyes.

"He's too busy being in looove." George scoffed, shaking his head.

"Yeah, sorry, Stu, I can't relate." Paul rolled his eyes.

"Oh! Does this mean you're finally over /her/?" George gasped.

"I... Guess, yeah. She made it clear how she felt when I stayed the night the other week, so she kind of made my mind up for me. She saw it as a casual hookup. No feelings." Paul spoke in an uneasy tone, staring down at his beer.

"Bloody hell, well, I never thought I'd hear you say that. No feelings from you to her, either?" George widened his eyes.

"Nope..." Paul lied, covering up his uncertainty with a gulp of beer, swallowing it hard.

"Well, that's definitely something we can drink to!" George grinned, raising his bottle in the air.

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The rest of the evening flew calmly and nicely for the boys. Records spun and spun, allowing them to listen to exactly what they wanted to be. Barely even talking about trying to get Paul hooked up with different girls, they were now much more focused on getting their name out there, spreading the word and hopefully getting noticed by someone who would sign them on to a record deal.

George was right, having a 'lad's night' with not too much alcohol that they couldn't walk straight and no one else there with them, they were able to dive deeply into exactly what they wanted to come out of being in the band they were in - and it made Paul happy. Thinking about the future was so exciting for him and he knew, no matter what, he wanted to spend his entire life within music. Sure, Pete and Stu were also in the band, but Paul, George and John always felt like more productive things would come of the three of them collecting ideas together. It was almost like the other two just went along with it. The guys loved being in a band together and they couldn't wait to see what would happen next.

"O-Our music will spread across the world.. And it will bring everyone together!" Paul exclaimed in a slight tipsy slur.

"We'll always come back here, though! We'll come back to Liverpool and get mobbed by fans, there will be hundreds of people queuing up outside our houses! God, imagine that, "Those famous Liverpool scruffs who made a couple of good hits" - that's what it'll say on our doorsteps." John chuckled, emptying the bottom of his beer bottle into his mouth.

"On Mimi's porch window!" George laughed out his words.

"It'll say, "John Lennon lived here with his Aunt Mimi. Come and stand where he and Paul got banished to practice their harmonising."" Paul laughed along with him.

"That is a little too long to fit on a plaque, don't you think?! And even so, Mimi would have none of it!" John shook his head with a loud laugh.

"True!" Paul laughed, politely dismissing John's offer when he held up another bottle of beer, "No, thanks. I better head home before I can no longer walk! But thank you for tonight, fellas. It has really hit me hard how much you guys care. I promise I'll try not to distance myself from you again when I'm feeling down." Paul smiled appreciatively.

"We're band mates, but firstly best mates." George and John spoke in unison, grinning.

"Oh, come on, that was cheesy, even for you two!" Paul playfully and dramatically rolled his eyes, crinkling his nose as George and John laughed.

"'Ey, why don't you two crash here? You can have a sofa each." John offered, raising his eyebrows.

"Actually, that doesn't seem a bad idea. At least if I stay here I don't have the possibility of being locked out!" Paul nodded, "Thank you."

"You're welcome, mate." John nodded back, "And you're sure you're alright about this whole Daisy situation, yes?"

"I... Yeah. Look, she made it clear. I mean nothing to her anymore. Even after spending the night together, she doesn't see me as anything more than harmless fun." Paul stared down at his feet for a few moments as he spoke.

"Are you going to see her again, or aren't you going to bother?" George asked.

"No. I mean, whats the point? I'd only be chasing after something that she doesn't want. I want to put one hundred percent of my attention into this band and not let anything stand in the way or come between it." Paul took a deep breath, looking at them both.

"That's the Paul we know!" John smiled widely, "So, where are we going, fellas?!"

"To the top, Johnny!" George shouted back.

"And where's that, fellas?!" John asked even louder.

"To the topper-most of the popper-most!" Paul exclaimed with a loud laugh.

"Thats right!" John nodded proudly at them both.

It was nights like these when Paul felt like they could almost touch what they were trying to achieve. Like, if they kept dreaming and believing hard enough, they could become exactly what they wanted to be. They had each other as best mates, brothers. It was special and they thought it was time for the world to see that. It might have been a huge, far out dream for some kids form Liverpool, but they were determined to make it their reality and have the time of their lives while doing it. Paul didn't need this girl to make him happy. He had music. Music never let him down. Music was always there. Through the sadness of losing his mother to the electricity and excitement when he was on stage, it was always something he could turn to. As he laid down on the hard, cold sofa, he closed his eyes and dreamed of the day he would wake up and have being in a world famous, world changing band be his reality.

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Thank you so much for anyone who read this chapter and any of the others!
Do you think Paul is happy now? Let me know what you think.... ;)