Living on the Streets - McLennon AU

May, 1956

Paul McCartney, a smallish boy from Liverpool, was walking home from school. He was quite the smart lad, however it was not a scholarship that had gotten him a place in one of the top Convents in the North.

His mother Mary passed away a few months earlier, and had realised how bright her boy was. So she wanted the best for him once she was gone, leaving a large some of money behind in her will, which would pay for the expensive fees that the Convent charged.

Paul loved school. Sure, he loved the lessons that he took: Art, English Literature, Latin (not his choice) and music; his favourite. But they weren't the main reason that he loved school so much. In actual fact, it was an escape from his father, Jim.

When Mary passed away, Jim felt he had lost his soulmate. He didn't become a regular drunkard or an abusive father, but his temper was something that nobody wanted to play around with. If he was angry, you would know about it.

Paul's younger brother, Mike, was his best friend. Sure, there was a 5 year age gap... But to Paul, age was just a number. He loved his brother to bits, and Mike returned the feelings. He felt as though it was his duty to care after Mike when Mary left, it's what she would have wanted.

However, things would not be looking up for Paul for much longer. As soon as he walked through the door to his home, his life would change forever.

As Paul opened the door to his home with a smile, it was quickly washed away when he saw who was behind him. His father was sat on a chair, next to the staircase, in silence. He had obviously been waiting for Paul.

"A-Are you alright?" Paul asked the man, who had a bottle of whiskey in one hand and his other hand behind his back. As soon as Paul noticed the whiskey he knew something bad was going to happen. The boy slowly closed the door behind him.

"I want you outa my home in 10 minutes." The teenagers eyes widened in shock and confusion, he began tearing up.

"Wait.. W-What?" Paul was speechless.

The man slowly raised from the chair, taking a few steps closer to Paul. Placing his whiskey on the shoe rack beside him, he raised his hand and smacked his son across the cheek. "I ain't allowin' no faggot here under my roof!"

Paul knew better than to talk back to him. He moved his hand to his cheek and caressed it slowly, now staring at the ground as Jim was still stood in front of him.

But out of the corner of the teenagers eye, he could see the man's other hand retreat from behind his back. Horror struck him as he noticed the familiar book in his hand.

Paul's diary.

"So, you heard me, boy! Get the fuck out of my god damn house!" He yelled, forcing the book into Paul's chest.

All the boy could do in response was nod and run up the stairs.

Tears streamed down his face as he threw the backpack, that was on his shoulders, onto the bed. Opening it up, he saw a lot of his school books.

"I won't be needing these anymore..." He whispered to himself and began to tip them out onto his bed.

But they weren't all just school books, some of the sheets of paper contained songs that he had written at lunchtime. He made sure he kept those, pushing them back into the bottom of his bag with his diary, moving onto his wardrobe.

'A way to make money', he thought.

Then it really hit him. He was going to be homeless.

He'd be one of those people who sat underneath the subway, watching hundreds of people walk past him every day. He'd be one of those people who's only way of making money was to play his guitar to people that didn't even care. They would walk past, pretending they hadn't seen him, or even heard him.

If the worst came to the worst, and he wasn't getting the money he would need to stay alive from his music, then he may have to make money in other ways.

His tears were running faster.

"Paulie...?" Paul put the last of the clothes (that he could fit) into his once-school bag, before taking a deep breath and turning to face the boy who had just entered his room. He knew who it was, and he knew what the poor child must have been thinking. "What is going on?" He could hear the sadness and confusion in his voice.

"Mikey..." Paul gestured for the 9 year old boy to come to him, presenting a sad smile. In no way did he want to upset Mike. "Paulie- Paulie is gonna be leaving for a while, yeah?" He placed his hands on the boys shoulders, standing up straight.

"What? Where'll you be goin' Paulie?" His eyes had also gone wide at the news. It came to him as a massive shock. "You've never left before..."

"I know, and I- I'm sorry." He pulled him into a hug, hoping the boy didn't notice the stutter.

"Do you have to go for a long while?" Mike asked, letting go of Paul.

"Yeah, Mikey, Yeah I do..." Paul brushed Mike's fringe out of his face using his fingers. "I'm so sorry."

"Will you be okay?"

He hated lying to Mike, but he also hated upsetting him. If he knew the truth then he might start trying to persuade Jim otherwise, which would be a bad move and almost definitely give him a few bruises. It could also put Mike's future with Jim in danger too, as he was now going to be alone with him for the foreseeable future, and Jim doesn't forget things easily.

"Yeah, kiddo. I'll be okay. I want you to just worry 'bout yourself now though, Mikey. You got me?"

Mike nodded.

"Does Daddy know 'bout this?"

Mike wasn't old enough to understand Jim's actions just yet, he wasn't aware of his fathers bad side. Mostly because Paul made sure that he only ever took his frustrations out on him, never Mike.

"Yeah, he does. But I don't want you to go and talk to him about it."

"A-Alright."

"If he ever does anythin' to you that hurts, Mikey, then you need to dial this number 'ere on the telephone." He led Mike over to his desk, taking a pen and ripping a tiny corner of a sheet of paper to write something down. '9 9 9.' "There, put that in your pocket safe for Paulie. You're a big boy, you know how to use a telephone, right?"

"Yeah, you taught me that, Paulie!" He said in a matter-of-fact tone and did what Paul told him to do.

"I did." He smiled, trying to mask the sadness and worry again. "I'm gonna miss you so much, Mikey."

"Me too, but Daddy wouldn't let you leave unless he thought that you were gonna be okay, right?"

Paul's heart broke. But he couldn't tell Mike the truth.

"Yeah, he wouldn't." He pulled Mike in for one last hug. He held onto his little brother tight, never wanting to let him go. But he knew his 10 minutes were almost up. "Now I gotta go, Mikey." He pulled away and ruffled the boys hair, receiving a giggle in reply.

He picked up his guitar, that was leaning on the wall, with a sigh, walking back over to his bed. Swinging his backpack over his shoulders, he took one last look at the boy who was looking in his mirror, trying to perfect his hair again.

"Love yah Paulie, see you soon!" He called, still looking in Paul's mirror, being too busy sorting out his hair to look and wave at the elder.

"Love you too, Mikey." He replied from the doorway, before heading to the stairs.

And he didn't look back.