Paul closed his eyes, rubbing his temples. Not only was the road they were on giving him a headache, but it was making him feel pretty nauseous. He had told John that he wasn’t feeling good, but John had only told him they’d be home by six. It was 11, and he really wasn’t feeling like sitting down for seven more hours.

And to top all of it off, he had to piss, too. The road they were on would turn every once in a while, and he noticed that John wouldn’t slow down on any of them, and they all jostled his bladder a little bit. But he didn’t tell John.

He knew John would only mock him, so he kept his mouth shut. But before too long, his eyes snapped open because he felt a leak escape him. He started to wriggle in his seat.

“Hey, Johnny?” John didn’t seem to hear him, the radio up all the way. Paul reaches out and turned it down. John looked over angrily.

“What was that for?”

Paul could tell that he was in a bad mood, and that really worried him. “I’ve, er, I’ve got to take a leak.”

“Lovely.” John reached out and turned the volume back up, and Paul could feel tears stinging his eyes. But he didn’t want to keep talking about it. John would stop for him eventually. He had to.

So he focused his attention on the radio and not the curving road or the fullness in his bladder. He sang along quietly with it, glad that it gave him something to do.

But eventually the squirming around his seat didn’t work anymore. He had to reach down and grab himself, and that’s when John noticed him.

He turned off the radio and laughed. “Oh, my God. Paul…”

“Shut up. I told you I had to go. Like an hour ago. And you still haven’t stopped.”

John looked back at the road. “Never said I would.”

Paul groaned, but John still didn’t look over at him. “Could you please stop somewhere? I can’t wait very long.”

“I don’t really want to. Maybe later.”

Paul felt a tear roll down his cheek. Was John really being so rude to him that he wouldn’t even stop? Why was he in such a bad mood?

John turned the music back up and Paul turned his face away from him to cry. He allowed himself to cry loudly because of the radio and he squirmed a bit more and squeezed himself a bit harder. More leaks came out of him, but he couldn’t let himself piss in the car, so he willed the urge away.

Another few minutes went by before he started to shake and could feel more and more leaks coming out.

John looked over at him and saw this and turned the radio off once again, revealing the sobbing of his friends. Paul immediately quieted, pulling his hands away from his crotch. The loss in pressure caused more leaks, and he could feel his wet underwear get even wetter. Covering his face so he couldn’t see the spot on his pants.

“Oh, God. Macca, I’m so sorry. I’ll stop somewhere. Just wait a few more minutes, yeah?”

“John, I don’t think I can wait. I’m so sorry. I never meant for this to happen. I tried to fucking tell you, but you wouldn’t listen.”

John sped up the car and started to look for a place to stop.

“I don’t see anywhere to stop!!”

Paul could feel the dam break and a hard, fast stream of piss shoot out of him. This time, it wouldn’t stop.

“Just fucking pull over!! Oh, my God. It’s coming out!! John!! Holy shit!!!!”

John was quick to pull the car off to the side, throwing Paul forward in his seat. The motion forced the rest of his pent up urine into the seat, and he refused to get up out of seat.

“Paul, get out of the damn car and go piss. Are you really fucking pissing yourself in here? God, how am I supposed to clean this?? Christ, Paul.”

Paul covered his face in shame before getting out, piss dripping down his legs. He didn’t say anything but started to walk the opposite way down the road.

John groaned. “Oh, God.” He turned around the road after leaning over to close the door and snuck up on Paul, rolling the window down.

“Paul! Paul, I’m sorry. Please get back in the car.” When he gor nothing is response, he kept talking. “Macca! What if somebody recognises you??”

“Leave me the fuck alone! I don’t care if somebody else sees me! All I was worried about was that my friend would think less of me for it!! I at least expected you to find a place to stop, but you didn’t even fucking care! It’s your fault!! Go the fuck away!”

John only watched as he left the roadway and disappeared into a neighbourhood. He covered his face, trying to find a way off the road.

Paul got to a house and knocked on the door. It swung open, and a lady opened it. Her eyes widened.

“Are you…?”

He nodded miserably. “Could I use y-your phone? I really need to call somebody.”

“Um… yeah, of course. Come on in.” Then she saw his pants. “Oh! Do you want something to wear ...?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s fine. Where’s the phone?” She lead him to the phone on the wall. “Thanks.” He dialled a number and put it up to his ear. “George? Hey, I’m at this house, and I need you to pick me up… yeah, everything’s fine… yes I’m safe… I’ll have her give you the address. And er, bring some towels… I don’t know where he went… no I left him. Stop freaking out. I’m sure he’s fine… why would he be worried about me? … look, I don’t want to talk about it. Just please stop asking.”

Paul handed the phone to the lady, who gave the address and directions to her house before hanging up.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, everything’s fine. Something happened, and I just need a friend to pick me up.”

“George Harrison.”

Paul has to admit that it was a little bit weird that everybody knew him and the rest of The Beatles, but he shrugged it off. “Er, yeah. Geo. Hope he’ll be here soon.” There was a knock on the door.

The lady went to go get it while Paul his in the closet.

“Have you seen Paul McCartney by any chance?” came a familiar voice.

“P-Paul, John Lennon is here for you.” Paul left the closet and made his way to the door.

“You’re an arse, Lennon. You can fucking go home. George will be here soon.”

“Paul, I can’t just leave you here. Please come back out to the car. George already called the car phone to see what was going on and I told him you’d come home with me.”

“I don’t want to ride with you.”

“I said sorry. And I really mean it. Please come out here.”

The lady turned back to him. “You’ll be safer with him than me, Mr. McCartney.”

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes. “You fucking arse.” Then he smiled and turned back to the lady. “Thank you so much for letting me use your phone.”

“No problem. Bye.”

The two of them left, and Paul sat in the backseat.

“That was dangerous what you did, Paul. Everybody knows us. You can’t go off to random houses and knocking on doors. And she’s probably going to start saying things to people. Everyone will know.”

“I don’t care if everyone knows. They’re not my friends. You are. And you knew. And you fucking ridiculed me and made me feel like it was my damn fault. You don’t just do that to people John. That’s a horrible way to make people feel.”

It was quiet on the way back, and Paul left the car, not so much as giving a shit about the front seat, when they arrived.

George already had clothes and a towel ready for him, and Paul could feel tears coming on when he saw it. At least he knew George would never care about it. If only John could feel the same.