1964
"I hate you, Paul! You're way too happy all the time! It makes me sick!" John slapped him. He felt tears sting his eyes as he stepped back in shock.
"And your songs are no good!" George yelled.
"Everyone likes you better than us! What's special about you? It took you two years to even get into choir! Because you're awful!" Ringo spat. The three started to close in on him.
"Weak!"
"No good!"
"Baby!"
"No...no...NO!"
"NO!" Paul sat up straight in the bed, panting. It was a nightmare, a really bad one. "Macca! What's wrong?" John threw the door open and knelt to the quivering form. "J-John...? Do you hate me?" He whispered. "What?! No! Where did you get that from? I don't...oh. You had a nightmare, didn't you?" He nodded, shivering.
"Y-you hit me...a-and said you hated me..." Paul slowly sat up, grabbing his hand. "Oh, Paulie...come here..." John hugged him tight, and secretly didn't want to let him go. "It's okay...we don't hate you..." He rubbed his back, whispering soothing words. "Okay...I'm sorry..."
"For what?"
"Waking you up..." He laughed, patting his head. "It's fine!"
"...John?" Paul looked him in the eyes. "Yeah?"
"Will you stay here and sleep with me tonight?" John looked shocked, then looked down to hide his blush. "Of course I will." He crawled into the bed with Paul. He was closing his eyes when he heard a sleepy whisper.
"I love you..."
He looked down to see Paul asleep with his arms wrapped around him.
"I love you too, my little Paulie."