The Story of McStarr

Chapter 2

A/N:

I'm sorry for this SUPER LONG chapter!! And that it has taken me soo long to post. Also, sorry that this so crappy :( I don't know if it is better or worse than the last one.) But oh well... Here tis.

Ps: I know there is not much McStarr yet!! But I promise there shall be in the coming chapters!!! (Hopefully they won't take as long as this...) peace and love!! ~ Ashley. (Oh also comments are very appriciated!)

Paul's POV

I stand outside the Star Club on the cold and darkening streets with my hands in my pockets. The freezing temperature seems to tear right through the threads of my jacket, chilling me to my core. Each of my shallow exhilations form into a miniature cloud then drift away. I have to find something to do, some place to go. I don't want to go home and most shops will be closing soon. I'm getting desperate.

Could it be possible that John isn't in the pub anymore? Of corse not. But I have to go back in. As bad as it smells, and as annoying the drunken patrons are, its warmth is still tempting. I peek my head in through the door just enough to look around. I don't see him. After a little self-convincing, I am back in the booth where I had been earlier.

"Ugh.. what do I do?" I rub my tired eyes to the point that everything looked blurry. Glancing up, I come to focus on a head of familiar, dark, moppy locks. Its Klaus. There is no way John could be too far from him. And speak of the Devil, there he is, coolly swaggering over and sliding an arm around Klaus's shoulders. They're laughing and talking to a group of their friends.

Maybe John isn't looking for me. I don't know whether to be relieved or hurt but I don't have too much time to think about that because they are heading right in my direction.

Just in time, I pick up the newspaper laying beside me and sheild my face from their sight. Thankfully, they walk past, but sit in the booth behind me. Apperently, in the possible half hour total they have been there, John has already had enough alcohol to get him buzzed. One telling symptom is his lack of volume control and rising irritability.

"Ey, do ye know anythin' of tha wanker over there?" John slurred a little, "the one with the big nose sitting at the bar?"

"The old man?" Klaus asked in his German accent.

"No, no. The other one with the quiff."

"Oh, yeah. Thats Ringo, the drummer of the Hurricanes. And a damn good one. Why?"

"I think Paul was starin' at him the other night..."

"And that bothers you?"

"Well of corse it does!" He slammed his bottle down harshly.

"Oh. I wouldn't think it would given... us."

"What do ye know?" He prompted impatiently.

"Not much really. Although, no ones apperently ever seen him take home any of these birds that are always making over them."

"You saying he doesn't like 'em?"

"Well its that or he's just too respectful," he sighed, sarcasm coating his words.

John audibly grumbled to himself, then there was a long silence between them.

"Hey... you want to get out of here already? Its rather dull," Klaus said, making it impossibly obvious his words had other meaning.

As if imagining the growing smirk on my boyfriend's face wasn't enough, I could practicly hear it in his words. "I'd like that."

Within a few moments they had gotten up and were headed for the door, not even finihing their drinks. I knew it... He is cheating. And with bloody Klaus Voorman! I can feel a growing lump in my throat and I'm choaking on the smokey air. I have to get out. I can't do this, not here.