Living on the Streets - McLennon AU

48.

(A/N- I originally wrote this like two days ago and I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED IT and now I wanna cry. Anyway, sorry if this chapter isn't good, I'm not too happy about the whole situation...😒)

9th April, 1955

John had just left the cafe, a wide smile on his face. He'd had such a great time with his mother, and he hoped he could do it again very soon. She was a good person.

The boy was in such a good mood on his walk back home, through the city, that he almost didn't notice the shop down the other end of the street which sounded very familiar to him.

He read the sign that said 'laundrette' on it.

Is... Is that-

His heart felt like it was about to stop when he saw a boy with blonde hair walk out of the shop, a brunette chick on his arm. John took a few steps back, making sure he wasn't noticed, and watched him from afar.

The blonde boy only looked young, just like how Paul had described him. The girl he was with obviously hadn't just been in the shop to collect her washing. She was giggling as he brushed his hand slowly over her cheek.

And then he smirked at her.

"The way he smirked at me, as if I was some... Some idiot. All because I was!"

"Oh Paulie..." He whispered sadly to the voice in his head.

That blonde fuck was going to get it.

But as he thoroughly considered going up to him then and there and smashing his face in, he couldn't do that. Mainly because he wasn't even sure if it was the guy. Yes, it was a blonde boy, who worked in a laundrette's... But there were many laundrette's in Liverpool. John didn't know if this was even the right one.

John watched the two ahead of him join lips for a kiss. It made him want to be sick, but he just stared, his mind racing trying to think of how to check if it was the right boy.

The girl walked away, a grin on her face as she turned the corner, giving him a seductive wave. He waved back, retreating back indoors.

John felt a lightbulb flick on inside his head.

Sure there were many laundrettes in Liverpool, and some of them might have blonde guys working behind the counter (few, but still.) But John highly doubted that there were many blonde boys who were queer behind the tills.

If he acted.... Suggestive... towards the piece of shit, and the boy returned the gesture, then John had found his guy, and he could finally beat him to a fucking pulp.

But he would have to be good at acting, and he'd have to be careful too, because if he'd got the wrong guy he could be in deep shit.

So John tucked himself away in an alleyway, taking off his school blazer and his tie. Once he'd shoved them into his backpack, he undid his top button and fluffed his hair up. He couldn't let the guy know what school he went to, that wasn't part of the plan.

When he felt he was ready, he took a deep breath, slowly stepping out of the alleyway and heading down the street to the shop. He fluffed his hair up a bit more, before pushing the door open.

The shop was empty, which was a relief for John. That was one less person to worry about.

You're doing this for Paul.

You're doing this for Paul.

John told himself as he strode straight over to the washing machines, pretending he hadn't noticed the boy staring intensely at him from behind the counter with his feet up. He could feel his eyes on the back of him.

He stared into the washing machines, pretending to look confused and in need of assistance.

Oh god, what the fuck am I doing.

"Can I help you...?" The blonde asked, standing up from behind the counter. John turned around slowly at that.

"Yeah... I believe I may have left somethin' here." He spoke softly, looking the boy straight in the eyes as he got closer.

"Hmm? What's that?" The blonde stopped infront of John.

"My mum's clothes, don't wanna disappoint her, y'know?"

"Mummy's boy, are you?" The blonde asked, smirking.

I'm gonna wipe that smirk right off his fucking face.

"Yeah... Yeah, that's right." John played along with his act, his eyes moving down to the other boys lips.

The blonde moved forward.

"Can tell." He whispered into John's ear, suggestively. John's plan was working. "I'm sure your mummy won't mind if her boy is a bit late with her washin', what do you think?"

"N-No." He stuttered, hiding his anger.

"What's your name, baby?" The blonde asked pulling his head away from Johns ear, now staring at his lips. He ran a hand through John's hair.

John's voice went quieter, trying not to smirk himself as he spoke. He'd got the bastard, all right.

"Mmm... I'm not sure if I should say..."

"Go on, I'll tell ya mine." John didn't respond, just looked down. "The names Connor..."

Connor.

"Alright then." He flickered his eyes up to 'Connors', leaning to whisper into his ear. "My names McCartney." John spoke lightly.

The blonde pulled away abruptly, his eyes widening.

"Paul McCartney." He said, his tone going harsh. "Remember me, do you? The boy you took advantage of last Wednesday?"

"What? I- I don't know what you mean?" Connor stuttered out, a nervous laugh falling from his mouth.

"Don't fuckin' lie to me!" John grabbed his collar, stopping him from stepping any further back. "I know what you did to him. I know you used him for sex, you piece of shit!" He slammed the blonde into the washing machines.

"I didn't use him." The boys eyes went evil, teasing. John's fists clenched as he spoke. "He wanted it, and he proved that, oh he certainly did. When he was lyin' on my bed moaning my name out like a whore."

And at that John punched the boy right in the face, kneeing him in his nuts.

"Don't you EVER call my Paul that ever again! You fuckin' git!"

But the blonde just laughed, not stopping tormenting John. He didn't even acknowledge his own nose bleeding out.

"Is that all you got." He coughed out, still smirking.

"Not one fuckin' bit-"

And at that John saw the staff door swing open, an old lady emerging from inside. But that didn't stop him. He punched the boy square in the face another time.

"Oh my god!" She cried.

John reluctantly let go of Connor, who fell down to the floor. He began to cough again, the woman rushing over as John backed away.

"Who's the mummy's boy now, Connor?" John teased, still furious.

"What the hell are you doin'?" She called at John, who didn't even flinch.

"You shouldn't be askin' me that, Miss. why don't you ask your that question to your... Son? Grandson? And while you're at it, also ask him if he enjoys takin' advantage of helpless, teenage boys."

She gasped at that, whipping her head back to face the blonde.

"Connor? He's not- Not serious... Is he?" The injured boy just nodded in a mix of pain and defeat. She backed off him, disgusted.

"Thanks to him, my Paul thinks he's some sort of slag!"

"Paul?" She gasped again, recognising the name.

"Yeah, Paul." John repeated. "I'll leave you two to talk."

He turned around, walking towards the door.

"Go to hell, Connor!" He shouted back, slamming the door behind him.