How to Change the World Part 2

[glomerdian]

Title: How to Change the World
Author: glomerdian
Rating: R?
Warnings: homophobia and language and what not
Summary: "The reporter sat there in shock, watching as Paul took another drag of his cigarette. The 'cute Beatle', Paul McCartney, was a f---ing queer!"
Author notes: Right, should I put a disclaimer that says that this is fiction and didn't happen. Fine, this is fiction and didn't happen.

Seven months passed since the motorcycle incident in December, and every month felt like another load Paul had to carry. They had been working on the new “Revolver” album since April, which meant restless days in the studio. More time was spent in the studio before, considering the amount of editing the new songs required. Being stuck in a small room with John all day was as unsettling as it was uplifting. It honestly all feels like madness.
Back in March, their popularity had a little bit of a halt, thanks to good ol’ Johnny. He was talking to a friend, who happened to be a reporter and Lennon said the Beatles were “more popular than Jesus”. It didn’t fail to get to a lot of religious folks; it was a mistake on John’s part. They were able to move on from that, and Paul was able to comfort John when he felt like shit.
This man he’d come to know as Alan Smith has been trying to interview him for some while, they’ve talked in a car, up the stairs, and a bloody taxi. Eventually they did a better quality interview when The Beatles were doing an appearance at the BBC-TV show “Top of the Pops”. There were girls everywhere, almost no place was quiet enough for them to get through just a few questions. He and Alan had found that the only truly quiet place was the lavatory in the TV Centre. Both of them settled in the small restroom, and were brought a cup of tea before Alan proceeded with the questions. Paul sat on the bathtub, while Allan sat on the toilet, which made everything even more uncomfortable.

Allan’s interview began talking about the Moped accident that Paul had had that December, and a bit about the songs they were working on for Revolver. Really, it was a pretty generic interview, asking a few personal questions about songs or the home he had purchased, nothing headline making.
Until.

Allan began to form a question,“Paul, onto something more personal.”
The young Beatle took a sip of his tea, wondering where the interviewer was going with this.
“Alright.”
“Is there anyone special at the moment we should know about?” The interviewer sounded genuinely lighthearted about this, but for Paul, it made him tense.
“No, not at the moment,” Paul’s voice felt rougher with every word.
“You did have a minor thing with Jane Asher, what happened to her?”
Paul put down the tea on the floor, took out a cigarette and forced a smile.
“Ah, we weren’t right for eachother.”
“Do you think you’ll ever find the right girl?”
Paul tensed even more, taking a long drag of his cigarette. He didn’t care anymore, he couldn’t lie anymore. Maybe it was a better thing to tell the truth.
“N-no.”
“Why is that?” The interviewer asked inquisitively.
“Alan, I haven’t been entirely honest with everyone.”
“How so?”
Paul took another sip of his tea. The drink was getting a bit cold now.
“Listen, Alan. There have been men who have been beaten, thrown in prison, and killed, and they were no different than I am. And frankly, I don’t see how it’s fair they live a life of prosecution while I sit here, one of the biggest stars in the business.”
Okay, starting with subtly, doing well so far.
“What are you trying to say Paul?”
Paul swallowed the lump forming in his throat.
“What I’m trying to say, Alan, is that I can’t find the perfect woman because… I am a homosexual.”
Paul took another long drag of his cigarette as the interviewers mouth stood agape. The tension in the compact room could be physically felt.
“Uh, what?”
“Yeah, I’m a homosexual. I’m not saying this for publicity, to be an activist or whatever. I just want everyone to know that men like me are out there, and maybe we should stop ignoring that fact. They’re hunting us like deer, Alan.”
Still, as clear as Paul was, the Alan was shocked. It was hard to speak with one of the largest celebrities telling him… this! The interviewer cleared his throat.
“You know, Paul, you may be prosecuted for these words?”
“You asked me a question, Alan. I’m just being honest.” Paul tried his best not to look at the interviewers bulging eyes.
The reporter sat there in shock, watching as Paul took another drag of his cigarettes. The “cute Beatle”, Paul McCartney, was a fucking queer!
“Right… don’t you think that you may influence our youth to perform perverse sexual acts to follow in your footsteps?”
Fuck, that pissed Paul off. He fucking regretted what he said, he knew people weren’t ready for this shit.
“Please, get out.”
No, Paul, don’t go overboard. You should’ve expected this.
“What?”
“Get the hell out of the lavatory! Piss off! I just gave you the biggest story you’ll ever get, now bugger off, prick!”
The interviewer looked somewhat insulted. Instead of retorting to Paul’s harsh words, he simply stood up and left. Once the reporter had exited the lou, Paul dropped his cigarette. It was serious this time; this would be out for all the world to see.
Realization struck Paul, taking his head into his hands. He began to sob, his palms getting damp from his tears.
“Fuck!” he screamed as he kicked the side of the toilet. He stood, his body feeling heavy, and stumbled to the wall, running into the tea on the floor. That fucking tea spilled all over the place. The fucking tea!
You’ve fucking done it, McCartney, you’re screwed it all up!
Angrily leaning against the wall, he kicked the side and in the process slightly injured his foot.
“Oh fuck, everything!” he said, wincing is pain as he roughly grabbed his foot.
He tried to collect himself, but he couldn’t. This was bad, this was so bad, he’s gone and messed up every opportunity his band had. And he was so excited about the new album, too! It was going to flop because Paul couldn’t shut his big fucking mouth!
His sobs became louder, squatting onto the floor. He curled himself into some sort of failure of a ball, his whole body tense and anxious.
God, was he afraid.
“Paul are you in there? The studio’s been lookin’ for you.”
Oh god, John. Not now, of all the moments you could’ve come, it had to be now?
Paul tried desperately to collect himself, standing up sniffling a few times. He knew his eyes were extremely read, and his cheeks tear stained. He couldn’t let John see him, it would be unhealthy. He’d break again.
“Y-yeah, John I’m in here,” Paul let out in a pathetic whimper.
“We’re on for the show in a few minutes… are you okay? You sound like you’ve been… crying.”
“Mmm, no. No I’m fine, I just-”
He covered his mouth with his hands, he knew he was about to cry again.
“I’m  okay,” at this point his voice was a muffled whisper.
“Paul, please open up. You’re worrying me.”
“no..no, I’m-”
The doorknob began to turn furiously, Paul’s heart began to race, running his hands through his hair.
“Open up, or I’m kicking the door down.”
The doorknob kept turning, Paul felt his legs giving up on him. Why was he breaking like this? Telling the truth is what you’re suppose to do!
The door flew open, John standing at the doorway looking at the scene before him.
“Paul…”
Paul put two hands on his mouth, trying to keep his cries in. John went over to the man on the floor, sitting on his side. The older man put his arms around Paul, only making Paul feel worse and better at the same time.
“It’s all gone to hell, Johnny,” Paul whimpered, his voice husky and cracking.
“Shhh, Macca.” John said, stroking his hair as Paul clung to his side. “I’m sure it’ll be alright.” John probably had no idea what was actually happening.
The crying man’s whimpers began to settle, and eventually the room became silent and tense. John still held Paul in his arms, and Paul still clung to him. For a few seconds, he  could make out John’s rapid heartbeat until John stretched Paul away.
“Well, let’s get you cleaned up,” John paused to look at Paul for a few seconds. He was always there with a smile. “They’re probably wondering where we are.”
“Thanks, mate,” Paul said softly, whipping his eyes from the remaining tears.
It was all silence, the only sound was the sink running as Paul splashed his face. Okay, for now he had to be calm. No more of that crying shit.
Paul finished up, his face looking neutral and the signs of tears no longer visible. The two men walked out of the restroom in silence. No one dared to say a word.

~~*~~

Days passed, the article had not yet been published, and John had not mentioned the incident in the bathroom since it happened. Paul thought the article would have been blasted all over the place by now, and frankly, the wait was killing him. The past days, they’ve been recording and mixing the songs on “Revolver”, they’ve been pretty uneventful days. Still, it’s helped Paul keep his mind off everything that’s been going on. Every now and then, Paul would occasionally catch John’s eye, resulting in a smile from his partner. He was trying to avoid him, it was embarrassing to be around him. The moments he did spent with him, no one dared to address the elephant in the room, but Paul still remained tense.
It was June 24th today, they were going to start a brief tour in three countries, the first being Germany. There were two shows tonight, but they’ve been absent from the stage for a long time, so the group was slightly nervous about this performance.
The first and second performances were overall okay, despite the fact the George had introduced “Yesterday” from “Beatles for Sale”. Everyone else laughed it off, no biggie. They were about to do “I’m Down” when Paul realized he’d forgotten the lyrics to the first bit. They were on stage in front of a thousand people, and Paul had forgotten the damn lyrics.
“Shit, George,” he not so subtly said to the guitar player.
“What?”
John walked over to see what they were chatting about.
“I forgot the first bit to ‘I’m Down’”
John interjected, laughing a bit.
“You telling lies thinking I can't see…” John said, waving his finger in the air.
“Okay, got it.” Oh no, that smile of John’s got him all distracted.
“Man buys ring woman throws it away!”
He started singing, John had just told him the line, and he sang it wrong five seconds later. God, this was getting ridiculous.
He managed to get all the verses wrong, the whole song became messed up because Paul had to go around thinking of John. It always managed to get him disrupted, even after he was doing so well. Finally, the tune ended with cheering, and maybe a lot of people didn’t notice. And with that song they finished off the final concert, promptly walking off stage. Backstage, Brian was waiting near the stage exit. Once he realized the concert was over, he strutted over to Paul, looking anxious with every step.
“Paul, when we arrive at the hotel, we can discuss what has happened.”
“Uhh,” Paul didn’t like where this was going.
Everything was fine and dandy, until they came out of the Circus Kroner.
Initially they never expected the hundreds of reporters waiting for them outside. Seeing this, guards flocked over to them, realizing they needed more protection.
Hoards of reporters crowded around them, all screaming at the same time. Individual questions were indistinguishable from the ambiance of the crowd.
“Mr. McCartney are the allegations true?” he was able to  hear one woman say in the crowd.
“What?” He knew very well what, maybe it was better to play dumb for a bit.
One middle aged reporter spoke, “Mr. McCartney, what is your official statement?”
“On what?”
They entered the car before Paul could get an answer to what everyone was questioning them about.
“What the hell was that about,” Ringo questioned once they were in privacy.
“Hell if I know,” Paul blatantly lied.
They arrived at their hotel with no reporters in sight.
Once they were checked in, the Beatles made their way to their designated suites via a lift.
“I’ll bunk with you tonight, George,” Paul whispered in the lift.
“Sure, mate.”
After the lift doors opened, Brian escorted everyone to their designated suites, everyone giving their rushed “goodbyes” and “goodnights”.
George and Paul left to enter their own suite, both noticing Brian following behind. Upon entering the room, Brian closed the door behind them.
“Paul, tomorrow we can speak to Derek on what we should say to the press about this.”
“Alright, can we clarify what’s going on?”
“It’s all over the news, Paul. Haven’t you seen the article? ‘Paul Comes Out!’”
The young bassist ran a hand in his hair, the word was out. Now what?
“Okay… so what do we do now?”
“Well, you might get prosecuted, though they don’t have enough evidence to prove you did anything illegal, yet.”
“Hmm.”
“Maybe we can talk about this in more depth tomorrow, Paul.”
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
It was an awkward conversation, and no one seemed noticed that George was also there in the room.
“What’s all this about?” George asked innocently from the bed.
Brian walked towards the door, his face looked tired. “I’ll be off now, Paul.”
Paul acknowledged Brian with a slight nod, the door closing with a final click. Finally, he turned to George, sitting at the edge of the bed, his eyes still questioning.
“George… it’s got out to the press that…” Paul didn’t quite know how to put it, “… that, I’m a queer.”
His youngest friend sat on the edge of the bed, his expression unreadable. George shifted a bit before commenting.
“Well, you aren’t right?” Paul hoped George wasn’t hoping for a ‘yes’.
“No, I-I am.”
His old friend, looked down, then back up at Paul’s face and smiled.
“Well, it’s alright with me, at least.” Paul let out a relieved sigh. Huge confrontations didn’t sound very pleasant at the moment.It was relieving to know that at least his old friend accepted him. Maybe it wouldn’t be all bad, George reassured him and helped alleviate the stress this was causing.
“Thanks, Georgie.”
So they went to sleep.
~~*~~
The next morning Brian received a call from the sports arena they were meant to play at. Apparently the venue was canceled because of “recent events”. They were probably afraid of a mob or something, and no one could blame them. There was a small chance of rescheduling, but given the big news story of the day, it would be unlikely.
The four Beatles, Brian, and Derek, their publicist, met in Paul and George’s hotel room to discuss what the procedure was from here. They planned on releasing their official statement this afternoon.
The six of them sat a round table.
“Before we continue,” Brian began, breaking the silence, “Paul, I have to ask you personally if what the man is saying is true.”
Paul’s eyes searched the room. No one looked like they were angry or judging. It was all neutral. John’s face, however, looked unreadable. It was some odd expression he’d never seen. Though John’s head remained bowed, that odd expression was still visible.
Their publicist spoke for the first time,“Paul, I do think you should deny the allegations. I don’t think it’s the best idea to-”
“No, Derek, I want to do this.”
Brain interjected, “Paul, I think it would be in the best interest for the future of the group to simply deny what this reporter is saying.”
“No,” Paul crossed his arms, leaning back, “I just… I need to do this.”
“Paul,” Ringo began, treading lightly, “we do love you, and whatever you do in your time is fine, but… I don’t think that everyone else will think the same.”
“No,” John finally added a comment in, “I think you should tell the truth Paul. Whatever it is. If you want the world to know who you are, then fuck it, right?”
Paul looked at John, meeting his eyes. They looked sympathetic… no. They looked empathetic. Why was John suddenly his biggest advocate?
Brian spoke again, “There have been several people asking for interviews, Paul. If you do want to go public with this, we can schedule an interview.”
Paul gave a slight nod in acknowledgement, “Yes, that’s what I want.”
George finally spoke as well, “Paul, I think it’s good you want to speak out.”
“Yeah, we’ll still back you up, mate. No matter what. Like John said, fuck everyone else,” Ringo smiled as he said these words.
Paul didn’t expect the support of the people in his life, he nearly thought he would be thrown out of the band.
“For now we’ll remain ambiguous,” Derek once again spoke up, “then we’ll see what happens with the interview.”
“Thanks everyone. I’m sorry if it messes up our band, but I can’t live like this anymore,” Paul spoke with a sadness in his tone.
Paul one again met John’s eye, he had felt the other man’s stare for a while now. Slowly, he saw the corner of John’s mouth twitch, as if it were attempting to give off a smile.

here's some notes: Paul actually did mess up “I’m Down” in the Germany performance, and I tried to recreate the conversation on stage.
The original interview took place in June 16th 1966 where Paul talks about his motorcycle accident and is labeled “Paul Speaks Out!” I have almost completely altered this interview as a plot device. If that’s the right word.
Alan Smith and Paul McCartney really did interview in a lavatory