Author's Note: Hello! This is one of my Beatles shorts, written via text for a friend. Some of these short stories are hers, some mine. This one is my writing. I have no warnings for you, unless you're opposed to the Beatles getting drunk... Also, I apologize for the use of supposed British slang and accented words... I'm American and have little idea what I'm doing! Forgive me!

More to come in the future! Enjoy!

Chains

The moment he saw her, he knew he had it all wrong. he had thought he was in love, but she walked in the door of the pub and he knew it had been a lie. He hadn't been in love, not before her. But how was he supposed to tell that to his current bird? It wasn't exactly a good subject to bring up. "Hey, love, just found out, I never loved ye! Funny, innit?" No, he couldn't do that. That wasn't what Paul was like.

But now, sitting with his bass in the flat he rented, his mind wandered to that bird, the one with the gorgeous brown eyes, the one he wasn't supposed to fall in love with.

"C'mon, Paul," he mumbled, absent-mindedly plucking at his bass strings, "Ye're not a free man. Ye can't jus fall in love with random birds off the street."

But he had. And he really didn't think of her as just a random bird, but as the one he wanted to stay with. Forever.

The phone rang, and Paul jumped out of his thoughts. He grabbed it and answered, "Hullo?"

"Paulie! 'm at thish pub, Paulie, ye should… come over an… Paulie, thish beer is wonferdul! …Wangerfuld… 'sh great!"

It was John.

With a sigh, Paul hung up on his pissed mate and grabbed his jacket so he could go and pick him up.

He wasn't prepared for who else would be there.

He saw her as soon as he walked in the door, before he even saw John, who was making a drunken fool of himself. He froze and stared.

"Keep lookin at 'er an someone might think ye're in love," Ringo, who had also received a drunk call from John, said.

Paul blinked. "N-no. I mean… 've still got-"

Ringo patted his back. "'d say, by the looks on yer face, this one's more important to ye."

Paul sighed and followed Ringo to the bar.

"Paulie, Ringsh!" John slurred, waving his mug around so brown liquid and foam sloshed on his hand, "'ey, mishter! Drink for me matesh!"

The bloke behind the counter poured out two more of the drink and placed them in front of Paul and Ringo.

Ringo shrugged and brought it to his lips.

Paul, feeling like his mind was being in torn in two by indecision, sighed and drank his own.

He woke up, groggy and pale, in a strange room on a strange floor.

"Wha…" he moaned, then saw the shoes. They were the ones she had been wearing, and they were now on the floor in the room he had been sleeping in. "Shite!"

He heard footsteps coming up the stairs and sat up, clutching the blanket he had apparently been given.

The door creaked open.

"'ello! An good morning!" a cheery man said. It was the barman. "Ye an yer mates certainly 'ad a nigh to remember! or… not, I s'pose."

Paul was still staring in horror at the woman's shoes, wondering what he had done that night. The barman saw his stare.

"Ah, an there was a pretty lass, too. 'd take it ye're already taken,eh? Well, no worries. Ye passed out after a bit of harmless flirtin."

Paul let out a breath of relief, but also one of regret.

A new voice travelled his direction. "Hugh? Ta for letting me stay, but 've gotta go. Seen me shoes?"

Paul recognized it as her voice, who else could it be? But he couldn't put a name it.

The barman, Hugh, replied, "No problem, Emily. Shoes are up 'ere. Would ye mind openin the door for business downstairs?"

She walked in and saw him.

"Oh, 'ello," she said shyly.

"'Ello," Paul replied, unable to take his eyes off her.

She took her shoes and turned to Hugh. "Don let me drink tha much again. I shouldn't 'ave to stay overnigh at the pub."

Hugh nodded. "Do me best. 'Ey, tell yer mum I say hi, will ye?"

Emily rolled her eyes. "She's not me mum, Hugh. Jus me neighbor."

"Tell 'er anyways."

Emily left and Paul blurted out the one question on his mind. "She yer girlfriend?"

Hugh laughed. "No, no, friend of a friend. 'm married." He waggled his fingers, showing off a small gold wedding band.

Paul nodded. "Well, ta for the hospitality." He got up and shook Hugh's hand.

"It was nothing. Oh, an ye may wanna know," Hugh said, then told Paul where Emily lived, "In case ye're ever interested. I think she likes ye."

Paul thanked him, then left with confusion and indecision taking over his mind. He went home and cleaned up, then checked his phone messages.

"Shite," he muttered as he heard his girlfriend's voice. It suddenly sounded fake and whiny to him. She wanted him to take her out that night.

He sighed. Then, Paul picked up the phone and called her back. To his surprise, she didn't answer, and he didn't bother with a message. Instead, he decided to go for a walk to try and clear his mind. So, he put on his jacket and headed out.

"I can't just cheat on my girl," he mumbled to himself as he walked, "Much as I want to love tha Emily bird, I can't. But… I 'ave to, 've never loved anyone more, an 've barely met 'er! She 'as to be the one, she 'as to be! But I can't jus dump me current bird like some arse… An I can't cheat… Bloody hell, what do I do? 'm trapped…"

He found he had made his way to her flat building without realizing it, and was standing in front of it.

Taking a deep breath, he walked in the door, and got into the lift, knowing he'd find her on the fourth floor.

Not stopping to think, he rapped on her door, holding his breath.

She answered with a cat at her ankles.

"'ey," Paul said.

""ello," she replied with a smile he couldn't help but love.

"I, uh… I was wonderin if ye'd maybe like to 'ave tea with me today?" he said, making it up on the spot and hoping he wasn't doing anything that day.

Her smile grew. "'d love to!"

"Gear, so… see ye later, then."

Later that day, Paul met Emily at a little café in town, and they ordered tea. it didn't take long for them to be laughing like the best of friends.

Paul, for the first time in the past few days, felt his heart lighten. Being with her, he knew where he belonged. Somewhere in his mind, he knew what he had to do, but for the moment, he was simply enjoying the company of the object of his heart's attention.

Emily was stirring her tea absent-mindedly, talking about her mates and some of the things she liked. Rather than feeling bored, Paul was very much interested in anything she had to say.

"Emily, ye're beautiful," he blurted out.

She looked at him in surprise.

"Ye really are," he said, "an… I think I love ye. Hell, I know I do."

Her eyes grew round. "I think I love ye, too," she whispered.

They looked at each other for a while, taking it all in.

Emily happened to glance at a clock on the wall. She jumped up.

"'m late! 'm so sorry, Paul, I 'ave to go! Will ye… Call me whenever, yeah?"

Paul nodded and watched her hurry out. He was in a great mood, absolutely blissful. She was everything he ever wanted and more. She was perfect.

Leaving the café, he walked down the street, whistling happily.

That is, until he saw his girlfriend.

And she saw him.

"Paul!" she screeched, hobbling over in her high heels with shopping bags on wither side.

"'ello," Paul said distractedly, worry beginning to gnaw inside him again.

"Paul, ye'll never guess wha Dana said about Mandy's hair! Aand Randy's new suit, oh, what a laugh!" she jabbered on.

Paul walked with her, mustering up his courage. he knew what he had to do, but was dreading it.

"Paul? Wha do ye think about tha?" she asked.

"'ey, why don we sit for a bit, yeah?" Paul said, gesturing towards a bench.

They sat and Paul gathered his thoughts. For once in their relationship, she was quiet.

"Look, love, I … I 'ave to tell ye somethin," he began slowly.

"Ye're breakin up with me, aren't ye?"

Paul closed his eyes. He knew he didn't love her, not nearly anywhere near Emily, but he still felt wretched.

"I-I'm so sorry… I jus… I don think this could work for the rest of our lives."

She stared at him, shocked disbelief on her face. "Ye are, aren't ye. I never thought ye would…"

Paul placed a hand on her knee. "Ye're a great person, ye really are. I can see ye findin someone perfect for ye. I jus don think 'm tha perfect bloke."

She stared at him for a while longer. "This is really happenin, innit? …Well, I 'ave to say, Paul, I didn't think ye'd do this."

Paul braced himself for the tears. But none came.

"Paul McCartney," she said, "Ye're a brave lad, but it took ye long enough! Cor blimey, an I thought ye really expected us to stay together forever! Well, invite me to yer birthday party, yeah? See ye."

Paul watched, rooted to the spot, as she walked away as if it were no big deal. If he had known how easy it was to break up with her…

He reminded himself that he was free, the chains were broken, and a smile lit up his face. Relief filled him, and he looked forward to asking Emily to dinner, and seeing her face as a free man.