𝙏𝙤𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙤𝙬 𝙈𝙖𝙮 𝙍𝙖𝙞𝙣 // Paul McCartney

¸.·✩·.¸¸.·¯⍣✩ 17. 𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘺 ✩⍣¯·.¸¸.·✩·.¸

when i'm afraid i lose my mind

it's fine, it happens all the time

isolation caved in

i adore you, the sound of your skin

yung lean

✩⍣¯·.¸¸.·✩·.¸

august 17, 1960

it was early in the morning as the boys completed their long trek to hamburg.

their journey had started the night prior, with a long drive to london to pick up another passenger who was to act as their interpreter. the van was stuffed-- the band was not quite sure who the other passengers were, but accepted it nonetheless. from there, the ten passengers in the van drove to harwich, a small town on the coast where they got on the ferry. the ferry had dropped them in austria, where the group piled into another small van. this van had no seats, so the boys were forced to sit on their amps and equipment for the several hour drive, much to their dissatisfaction.

"this is no way to treat a rockstar," barked john, sliding around the back of the van.

"shut it, i'm tryna' sleep back here!" retorted george, overwhelmed by the day of traveling.

"how much longer," groaned paul, famished and sleepy from his day of traveling.

"a few more hours boys, hang in there," responded their manager, mr. williams, from the front seat.

just as the sun began to rise, the boys finally reached hamburg. they were dropped on a random corner in the center of the city with all of their stuff.

"this can't be right," complained paul, dragging his feet defeatedly.

"we've got to get to the st. pauli district, that's where you all will be staying," explained the interpreter through his thick german accent and pointing towards the sun. "that's east, we walk west, other direction"

the crew followed him, walking a few blocks until the streets grew more narrow and the usual crowd of pedestrians changed to drunks and hobos.

"is this it?" complained pete, questioning what he'd gotten himself into.

"this way boys, you'll be playing at 64 grosse freiheit, the indra club." the interpreter explained, leading them one last block.

once they approached, john tugged on the door to get it open.

"quit joshin' lennon, open the damn door!" groaned stu, needing to lay down after his long journey.

paul took a turn at the door, and to his surprise actually found it locked. "i'm afraid he wasn't kidding boys, it's closed..."

"now what?" questioned george, leaning up against the cobblestone wall and sighing defeatedly.

the interpreter chimed in. "i suppose i could ask a neighboring business for help... wait a moment, please.."

the boys sat on the ground in front of the club, anxiously awaiting to get inside. a few minutes later, the interpreter returned with the owner of the club next door. he jiggled his key into the door and opened it, letting the boys inside.

once inside, the boys were shocked to find nothing for them-- no beds, no food, nothing.

"so much for a warm welcome," snickered john, laying on one of the leather seats in the club. "i don't know about you boys, but this'll do it for me. goodnight."

each one of the boys found a leather couch to lay on, being so drained that they were willing to look past the fact it was a disgusting club seat.

"before we all doze off... where are we going boys?"