John began to pace. Paul sat on the mattress,must staring into space, and John was pacing back and forth rubbing his hands over his face. Paul had just told John what was going on with his father and John was beginning to freak out. Paul was becoming more and more concerned by the second.

"Remind why they are letting the lunatic out of prison?" John huffed.

"They're saying it was just a big misunderstanding," Paul sighed.

"A BIG MISUNDERSTANDING?!?" John yelped. "WHAT ABOUT THE FACT THAT YOU ALMOST DIED?!?!"

"John, we've got bigger fish to fry." Paul shook his head. "What do we do? Mike is in danger if he stays here. If my dad goes after him, he's done. Finished. I don't think he's got a chance of making it out alive. No offense to her, but what's Mimi going to do to protect Mike if my drunken, abusive, evil, cruel, cold hearted bastard - "

John sank down on the mattress beside Paul and wrapped his arms around him. "Alright. Calm down, Paulie."

Paul shook his head. The tears were coming now and they couldn't be stopped. He let out a sob, and that turned him into an emotional wreck. All of a sudden, he was sobbing and gasping and crying. John just held him in his arms and rocked him gently back and forth.

Eventually, Paul choked back his sobs and blinked away the tears - though they still came, but now in silence. His eyes reddened and puffy, Paul looked up at John. "What do we do?" He asked in a hoarse voice.

John shook his head. "I have no idea.... Do you think we should still go?"

"I don't know," Paul sighed. "It'd probably be safer for me, but what about Mike?"

"Why don't we being him with us?" John suggested.

"No," Paul said. "I already offered the idea to him. He said he has to stay here and watch after Mimi because she's so torn up about you leaving and to Germany of all places."

John smiled. "He's a good kid,"

Paul nodded slowly. "Yeah, he is." Then he was silent for a few minutes before speaking again. "So, we should go."

"You sure?"

"Positive,"

So, about a week later, John, Paul, George, and Stuart were at the airport at six in the morning, waiting to board their six forty five flight straight into Hamburg, Germany. John and Paul had gone to say goodbye to Mimi and Mike the. Night before and George had gone with them (much to Mimi's displeasure).

They boarded and survived the long flight. They arrived in Hamburg and caught a cab to their hotel. Inside their hotel, they found that the man who had hired them to play in Hamburg wasn't there, but there was man named Horace Selvig who worked with the man.

"We have booked two rooms for ze four of you," the man stated in a German accent, leading the band up several staircases until they reached the seventh floor. "You will have to have a roommate so choose among yourzelves."

"I'll room with Stuart," George offered.

John was fine with this seeing as he wanted to room with Paul, but Paul sensed that something was amiss. George was just trying to help them out, but it didn't go so well for him with Paul's suspicious looks and Stuart's glares.

Before Stuart could protest, however, John grabbed his bags and entered one of the rooms. "Come along, Paulie!"

Paul took one last fleeting glance at George, then rolled his eyes at John and followed quickly, clutching his bags tightly.

Stuart unwillingly entered the room directly across the hall with George at his heel.

"Do you think anything is up with George offering to be Stuart's roommate?" Paul furrowed his brows as he lay on one of the tiny single sized beds in the dark and grimy hotel room. "I mean, they can't stand each other."

"You're one to talk," John chuckled as his sat on the other bed tuning his guitar.

"Excuse me?" Paul looked over at John.

"You can't stand the sight of Stuart," John laughed,

"Damn right," Paul nodded. "But I didn't know that you knew about this."

John snorted. "An idiot could pick up on it."

Paul frowned. "It's not that obvious, is it?"

"Plain as the nose on my face, Paulie." John shook his head, still grinning in amusement. "Why don't you like him, though? What's wrong with him? What exactly do you hate so much about him?"

Paul shook his head. "John, he and I just don't get along, okay? We go head to head and we - we're just not compatible people. Our personalities clash. We don't mix well."

John furrowed his brows. "Oooooh. I see what's going on here."

"You do?" Paul looked over, not believing him for a second. "And what exactly is going on here because I don't see a thing in the matter."

"You, my dear, are jealous." John smirked.

"I'm what?"

"Jealous,"

"I am not!"

"Jealous as can be,"

"Jealous of what? Certainly not his guitar skills, I'll set you straight on that one."

"Paul, you're not helping yourself here. It's obvious. You envy him."

"I do not, John!"

"But why? Why are you jealous of him?"

"I. AM NOT. JEALOUS."

"Oh-ho! Yes you are!!"

"John Winston Lennon," Paul huffed.

John looked over at him. "Seriously," he shook his head. "What is it? What could it possibly be?"

"The way you look at him, alright?" Paul blurted out. "The way you - you look at him. You look so...happy. Content. Tranquil. Like he's the only one in the room, sometimes."

John didn't move for a good minute or two. Then he set down his guitar and stood up. He walked over and sat down on the edge of Paul's bed and cupped the younger boy's face in his hands. "Paulie, listen to me. I'm in love with you. You. You, and no one else. I will never love someone the way I love you. Nor will I love someone to such intensity. I love you. I love you. I love you."

Paul smiled. Because it was exactly what he needed to hear to put his brain at ease. "I know....I love you, too."

John leaned over and pressed his forehead against Paul's. "I know,"