Be Happy, Baby (Chapter 5) Part 2/2
Title: Be Happy, Baby (Chapter 5) Part 2/2!
Author: samberrie (itsa me)
Pairing: John/Paul, George/Ringo, platonic John/George
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Naughty language, crude humor, angst, implied eating disorder, and still pre-slash.
Time Frame: Second American Tour, 1965.
Summary: In this chapter, John is scared and confused, while Ringo and George have a little misunderstanding…
Disclaimer!: I own no Beatles. None of their songs and none of their pretty faces. None of this ever happened. ‘Tis fiction my dears.
A/N: Part two of chapter 5! I love George’s hands, they fascinate me. This chapter was supposed to be mainly J/P but I gave in and made it pretty much all G/R *sobs* I couldn’t resist! So I decided that while John’s still in the hospital, it’ll be mainly G/R. Oh and once again, I have absolutely no medical knowledge except Google so don’t stone me if you’re a doctor or a nurse.
A/N2: I really wanted to do a bit of Brian’s point of view, because I love him, obviously, and so I did at the end. C:
I want you so bad
It’s drivin’ me mad…
CHAPITRE CINQ (PARTE DEUX)
Beep.
…What was that?
Beep.
There it was again..
Beep.
What the…?
Beep.
UGH! Enough with the bloody beeping.
….Beep.
John forced his eyes opened, ready to destroy whatever was making that awful noise, but immediately regretted it when his eyes were ambushed with blinding white lights, earning him a wave of dizziness. What the hell, why is it so bright?
John closed his eyes again. Where the hell is he? He felt all fuzzy when he tried to remember, a constant throbbing in his head making it hard to think. His entire body ached like he’d just run a marathon, especially his upper chest.
He squirmed around slightly and found that he was lying on some sort of uncomfortable bed. What a shitty hotel…
Beep.
But why would there be constant beeping in a hotel?
John opened his eyes again, this time much more slowly, to assess his surroundings.
Starch white walls, a bunch of doohickeys, starch white sheets, and a window.
John was confused to see that the place was littered with flowers and cards and all that rubbish.
He was definitely not in a hotel.
John craned his neck a tiny bit to look at himself.
Wires and tubes stuck into his arm and somewhere else under his sheets… John didn’t want to know where those ones led to.
Sheets tucked tightly around him.
Metal bars on either side of the bed.
Definitely a hospital, that much is clear. But real question is how did he end up here?
Wait a minute. What the…
What the bloody hell is that? There’s something on his face in his line of vision. On his nose.
Some sort of cast.. how the fuck did he break his nose?! He must’ve gotten into a fight…
“…well it’s your fault anyways!” A muffled voice came from outside of his door. It sounded like George, but he rarely ever yelled like that.
“MY fault?! How is this MY fault?” A second voice. Definitely Paul’s. What were they yelling about? And why weren’t they in here with him?
“Yer not stupid Paul, so stop actin’ like you are! You KNOW what I’m talking about! ”
“NO, I DON’T! I have no IDEA what yer on about George!”
“Then ya really are STUPID!”
“FUCK YOU!”
“Lads… calm down! We should be worryin’ about John right now. You two can have yer little row later.” The always sensible voice of reason, Ringo.
“There’s nothin’ we can do Ringo! He’s been out of it fer a week!”
John gasped when he heard this, immediately causing a sharp pain to shoot up through his chest, black spots appearing in front of his eyes as he fought to stay conscious. He steadied his breathing, making sure not to breathe in too deeply, eventually recovering from the shock as well as the pain as he continued to listen. A week he said…
“He’ll wake up Paul; the doc says we just have to wait. Let’s just go eat some lunch and then figure out what to do next. We’re all under a lot of stress right now… I hope we can go back to the hotel soon, we all look like shit.”
An overwhelming feeling of terror came over him as he heard the three pairs of feet start to walk away. Why were they leaving him all alone?
John tried not to hyperventilate as his eyes drooped shut and he gave in to his exhaustion. Maybe if he just slept for a while he’d feel better…
**
The three conscious Beatles walked into the canteen together, but Paul opted to eat alone. He sat at the table in the furthest corner, letting off a sort of dark energy that made everyone around them too scared to approach him. Ringo himself wasn’t scared, but he decided not to push the issue.
Besides, he was secretly happy to have some alone time with George.
Ringo had noticed a lot of things about George over this past week when they were alone. Things he’s amazed he hadn’t noticed until the two started sitting in a hospital’s canteen together every day. And now, sitting here pretending to eat his food when he was really just watching George, Ringo went over all those things in his head.
Like the way George would talk with his hands. It was quite enthralling, really, watching George paint a picture with the flick of a wrist or the jutting of a finger, and Ringo often found himself paying more attention to those hands then the actual stories.
George had really nice hands actually, which made them all the more interesting to watch. Ringo would often catch himself watching George’s hands no matter what they were doing. He could watch them all day.
“Is that any good?” George suddenly asked with a point of his finger.
“What?” Ringo knew what he was talking about, but decided to play dumb. Playing dumb always came easy to the drummer.
“That. Yer muffin.” George wagged his finger animatedly at the food in question.
“Oh na, it’s pretty grotty actually.” Ringo grinned at the in-joke.
“Can I have it then?” No discouraging George when it came to food.
The drummer nodded and reached across the table to hand it to him. George met him halfway and practically snatched the food from Ringo’s clutches. The younger man brought the muffin to his open mouth and took a healthy bite.
That was another thing Ringo had noticed recently. George’s mouth. A very lovely mouth, it was. And even with its seemingly permanent scowl, it was still nice. Ringo wouldn’t mind getting to know it a little better…
All these new thoughts and border-line obsessions seriously made Ringo question his previously set-in-solid sexuality. Never in his short- no pun intended -life had he ever admired another man’s mouth.
As a matter of fact, he’d never admired anything physical about any bloke until he started looking at George. It wasn’t just his mouth he liked either; it was pretty much his whole face. He had amazing cheek-bones, dark soulful eyes, and even the thick, bushy eyebrows that had Ringo hooked. And don’t even get him started on what he liked about George’s body; the list would be much too long and inappropriate.
It amazed Ringo how he hadn’t realized it before, but George was bloody beautiful. And now that he had, it was like something in his brain clicked; like something suddenly became complete.
Ringo knew was falling for George Harrison, but he couldn’t be happier about it. Sure at first it had freaked him out a bit, but it’s really not so bad. It was kind of like his “Aha!” moment. The more he thought about it, the more obvious it seemed. First of all, it wasn’t really cheating since he was just looking, not touching. And secondly, now that he thought about it, George actually looked a lot like Maureen. Which is kind of scary.
And it’s not like it was one-sided either. Ringo may not seem like the smartest guy, but he always kind of knew that George’s feelings towards him were a little bit more than platonic. Ringo had an eye for these things, you see.
“Bleh.” George said, still chewing. “Yer right. That is pretty grotty.” He took another huge bite anyways, chewing angrily.
Ringo smiled and shook his head at the guitarist. Since his guitar wasn’t around, George was taking his stress out on his food.
“Ya really can’t blame Paul fer John not eating y’know…”
“But it’s HIS FAULT for not noticing how John feels about him.” George said loudly and glared over Ringo’s shoulder at the accused man to emphasize his point.
“George, you didn’t even know until John told ya.” Ringo reminded him. That shut him up quick.
Sometime during the week, George had made it clear that he knew about John’s feelings towards the bassist which took Ringo by surprise. When John had told the younger man, he couldn’t be sure. But if he had to guess…
“’Ey George?”
“Whafth?” George tried to answer, his mouth full of the nasty muffin.
“When did John tell ya he liked Paul?” Ringo had been wondering about this since the moment George told him he knew. Could it be possible that when John told George he liked Paul, George had a little confession of his own? It was a very reasonable possibility.
George raised an eyebrow before slowly swallowing down the muffin. “Umm.. why?” He asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Just wonderin’.”
“Well.. ‘bout a week ago I think. A few days before the concert.”
“Same night as their row?”
“Er, yeh.. I think so.”
“After I got back to the room?”
Ringo saw the guitarist swallow thickly before half-shrugging, half-nodding.
“Mm.” Ringo nodded back in understanding. On the outside he seemed calm enough, but inside his heart was beating rapidly. Did George know John came into the room? Did George tell John to come in? Ringo highly doubted the latter, but something in his gut told him otherwise. Perhaps it was just his optimism getting the best of him..
“Did you and John talk about anythin’ else?” Ringo asked with feigned nonchalance, eyeing his younger friend carefully.
“No.” George answered almost immediately.
“Ya… just talked about Paul?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Right.” Ringo leaned forward, propped his head up with his hands, and regarded George silently. George was looking around almost frantically and, Ringo couldn’t help but notice, playing with his hands in his lap.
“George..”
The man’s eyes stopped on the drummers, and for a moment the two merely looked at each other.
“Did ya know John came into our room that night?” Ringo dragged the question out but kept his tone light.
“He… what? When?!” Ringo saw a flash of what he thought to be realization flash across the guitarists face. Ringo held back a smile. So George did know what John had told him, or at least had an idea.
Ringo shrugged. “Had to be around 5 in the mornin’…”
“Ah, well… did he say anythin’, uh, weird?” George was definitely implying something there, his brown eyes drilling into Ringo’s blue ones.
Ringo looked away and down at his rings.
“He did, actually.” Ringo thought he heard George suck in a breath. He had to know what John had said. But the real question here was: is what he said true? Or was John just fucking with them both?
“What..uh, what was it about?” The younger man caught his bottom lip between his teeth and nibbled softly, his eyes still on the drummer’s. Ringo tried not to get too distracted by the sight, wanting to get to the bottom of this.
The drummer let out a long breath as if he were trying to remember.
He caught his elbow in his right hand, cupping his chin with his left. After dragging on the charade for longer than necessary, switching between drumming his fingers on the table and stroking his chin thoughtfully, Ringo finally snapped his fingers, his face lighting up with faked excitement. “Oh yeh!” he grinned knowingly at George. “It was about you!”
George’s mouth twitched slightly, the rest of his face staying neutral.
“R-really?” The only thing that worried Ringo was George’s failure to hide the genuine stutter in his voice. Ringo’s grin as well as his confidence faltered a bit. Why was George suddenly stuttering? That couldn’t be good. But he kept pushing.
“Yeh.” Ringo leaned across the table and brought his voice down to a mischievous whisper. “Wanna know what he told me?”
Ringo took a deep breath, willing his confidence to stay in check. This was it; as soon as George said yes, Ringo was going to lean in kiss him. That should make it pretty clear how he feels, and tell him if his gut feeling about George liking him had been true. Ringo didn’t even care that they were in the middle of a canteen, there wasn’t that many people around anyways.
George’s face turned a shade of red as he quickly shook his head.
What the..? That’s not what Ringo had been expecting.
“What? Why not?” The drummer couldn’t hide the shock in his voice.
George looked like he was about to vomit or pass out, or both. “S’not my business..” He mumbled.
“But I can make it yer business if I tell ya.” The drummer leaned in even closer.
George shook his head again, this time more adamantly. Ringo didn’t know what to do.
“George, I wanna tell you.”
“But I don’t wanna know.”
Ringo pulled back. “Why?!”
“Because.”
“George.”
“Ringo.”
“Just say ‘yes’”
“But I don’t want ya to tell me!”
“George, come on.”
“No.”
“But it’s about you!”
“I don’t care.”
“George.”
“Look, I really don’t wanna know Ringo.”
“But I really want to tell you!”
“No!”
“Yes!”
“I’m leaving.”
“What? No!”
“Then just leave it. Please.” George’s face was still red but at least he didn’t look like he was on the verge of showing Ringo his half digested muffin.
The drummer stared at George pleadingly until the younger man spoke again. “Look… I’m pretty sure I already know what he told you.” Ringo felt a sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach. It sounded like there was a “but” coming… oh no. It’s not supposed to go like this. George likes him, he does.
“But… just forget about it, okay?” George stared down at his hands. “It’s nothing…”
“..So, yer saying John was…” Lying? He wanted to ask, but couldn’t finish his sentence.
George nodded anxiously, assuming Ringo was about to say ‘telling the truth’. “Just… don’t let it change how you think of me, okay? Please..”
Now Ringo felt like he was about to vomit.
His shoulders started to sag as realization set in. So John really had been fucking with Ringo when he said George liked him, and George knew about it too. Well, shit. Fuckin’ John…
Ringo felt like an idiot. He’d been rejected before he’d even had a chance to even explore his feelings.
Had Ringo been imagining all the lingering looks and touches he got from George all these years? Apparently so. He’d just been seeing what he wanted to see.
The drummer suddenly stood. This awkwardness was starting to suffocate him, he needed to get away.
“Where’re ya goin’?” George sounded worried.
“Out.”
George grabbed onto Ringo’s wrist before he could walk away. “M’sorry! Please don’t hate me; I can’t help how I feel!” He said, desperate to make the drummer understand. He tried to tug Ringo back down into his chair but he wouldn’t budge.
Ringo couldn’t bring himself to look at the younger man. Rejection already felt bad enough when it was some bird, but being rejected by George made it feel even more awful, ten-fold.
“I know George… neither can I.” Ringo gently removed his arm from the guitarist’s grip and started walking away.
Why would John do something like this do him and George? This wasn’t some silly joke! You can’t just mess with peoples’ feelings like that! Ruin peoples’ friendships.
There was no way Ringo could see George as just a mate anymore, no way in hell. God, he wasn’t even going to be able to room with him for the rest of the tour, it would drive him mad. He’d have to go back to rooming with…
No. Ringo refused to room with John. It’d have to be Paul.
Because Ringo knew one thing for sure as he walked out of that room…
He was done with John.
**
George watched as Ringo as well as his friendship slipped out between his fingers.
Ringo had rejected him. Already. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to make a move yet! It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, George was going to go about this carefully so something like this wouldn’t happen. But now he didn’t even have a chance, Ringo had made it clear how he felt as soon as he’d walked out that door.
This was all John’s fault.
George didn’t want to believe it. John had lied to him! He told George that he could trust him, and what does he do? He tells Ringo about George’s feelings less than five minutes after he was told himself! Fucking lying prick! George was going to murder him as soon as he woke up. Come to think of it, George would much prefer it if John never woke up, that would save him some time.
George was glad John had fainted. That’s what he gets for being such an awful person.
The guitarist put his face in his hands. Oh no, he was not about to start crying over this. He rubbed at his eyes angrily, trapping the oncoming tears inside his eyes.
“George…”
Great, just what he needed. Paul.
George decided not to answer; convinced he’d eventually just leave. It was silent for a moment before the sound of a chair being pulled up filled him with dread.
“What was all that about? What’s wrong with Ringo?”
George still didn’t answer, only shrugging.
“I mean, he looked pretty sad…”
You look pretty sad.
“Dontcha wanna talk about it?”
George grunted.
“C’mon George. What’d ya do?” Paul teased.
“I didn’t do anything! It was John!” The guitarist suddenly yelled, his head snapping up to look at the bassist.
“Oh really? Did he do it with his telekinesis then? Because last time I checked, John was in a bloody coma.” Paul snapped.
“Go away, Paul. M’still mad at you.” George grumbled, regretting his earlier choice of words.
“Wha-? Why?!”
“Ugh! You KNOW why ya -“
Wait a minute… maybe Paul was telling the truth when he say he didn’t know. It was definitely more than a possibility that John hadn’t confessed yet. But George could have sworn he noticed something different between them that one morning before the concert.
“Ya really don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”
“No I really don’t, George. That’s what I’ve been tellin’ you all week!”
A brilliant idea popped into his head. George held back the malicious smile tugging at his lips.
“Fine, I’ll tell you…”
Paul lifted an eyebrow when George leaned in slightly across the table. “What is it then?”
George paused for dramatic effect, letting the bassist’s anxiousness build up.
“John wants to fuck you.” He finally said matter-of-factly.
The look on Paul’s face could be classified as a Kodak moment. George resisted the urged to rub his hands together and cackle manically.
“What?! George! What the hell-“ Paul’s eyes were practically twice as big as they already were, his eyebrows halfway up his forehead.
“I’m not lying. Just ask Ringo, he knows too.” George said calmly.
Paul’s face was in flames at this point.
“He wasn’t eating ‘cause he was too busy fretting over you and all that rubbish.”
George stared silently, waiting for a reply. “Now you get it?”
Paul didn't answer, only staring at his hands looking horrified, so George took that as a yes.
The guitarist turned away and lit a cigarette, taking a long drag before speaking. “Then go away.”
Eventually, Paul did just that. He slowly stood up and silently went back over to his table.
George couldn’t look at him, already trying to push away the feeling of regret.
The guitarist slouched down sadly in his chair. Now he was just as bad as John.
**
“Yes, yes I know and I’m sorry…. No he’s still in the hospital. Of course, that’s-…. No, he hasn’t woken up yet… What do you mean? ….No, no. There’s no need…. Um, yes….. No… Well, I mean if there’s any way I could… Oh...right, well, thank you for your time anyway.”
Brian sighed and gently set the phone back into its cradle. This whole fiasco was proving to be quite problematic.
The man closed his eyes and massaged his temples. He wasn’t prepared for something like this. One of his boys fainting on stage in the middle of a concert; it was ridiculous. Laughable, really. He had no idea what to do about the rest of the tour. If John didn’t wake up soon, he’d have to just cancel the whole thing, which he definitely did not want to do…
And now these rumors that John has some sort of eating disorder and was suicidal have somehow spread around, Brian didn’t know what to do.
Derrick was trying his hardest to deflect this awful rumor, but his word could only go so far. The public wouldn’t have any of it unless it was the man himself who denied these accusations.
But John couldn’t very well clear his public image when he was in a coma, now could he?
Brian picked up the phone and punched in some numbers.
“Mal? Yes, hello. Listen, I need you to send a car to pick the boys up from the hospital. Wouldn’t want any sneaky fans finding them and sending the place into frenzy. Yes, right now. Alright, thank you. Bye.”
Brian once again hung up the phone and started to sift through the papers on his makeshift desk. And by makeshift desk I mean coffee table.
All this stress had Brian more anxious and nervous than normal. He just needed something to take off the edge… ah yes, there it is.
Brian unscrewed the cap of the little bottle and dumped some of its contents into his hand.
One, two, three. He tipped back his head and swallowed the pills dry.
The man almost immediately felt the effects of the pills and began to relax.
John would most definitely wake up soon. He had too.
It would probably all work out in the end for him and the boys. As long as they stuck together…
**
Oh shit, quick, click the next entry.
Author: samberrie (itsa me)
Pairing: John/Paul, George/Ringo, platonic John/George
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Naughty language, crude humor, angst, implied eating disorder, and still pre-slash.
Time Frame: Second American Tour, 1965.
Summary: In this chapter, John is scared and confused, while Ringo and George have a little misunderstanding…
Disclaimer!: I own no Beatles. None of their songs and none of their pretty faces. None of this ever happened. ‘Tis fiction my dears.
A/N: Part two of chapter 5! I love George’s hands, they fascinate me. This chapter was supposed to be mainly J/P but I gave in and made it pretty much all G/R *sobs* I couldn’t resist! So I decided that while John’s still in the hospital, it’ll be mainly G/R. Oh and once again, I have absolutely no medical knowledge except Google so don’t stone me if you’re a doctor or a nurse.
A/N2: I really wanted to do a bit of Brian’s point of view, because I love him, obviously, and so I did at the end. C:
I want you so bad
It’s drivin’ me mad…
CHAPITRE CINQ (PARTE DEUX)
Beep.
…What was that?
Beep.
There it was again..
Beep.
What the…?
Beep.
UGH! Enough with the bloody beeping.
….Beep.
John forced his eyes opened, ready to destroy whatever was making that awful noise, but immediately regretted it when his eyes were ambushed with blinding white lights, earning him a wave of dizziness. What the hell, why is it so bright?
John closed his eyes again. Where the hell is he? He felt all fuzzy when he tried to remember, a constant throbbing in his head making it hard to think. His entire body ached like he’d just run a marathon, especially his upper chest.
He squirmed around slightly and found that he was lying on some sort of uncomfortable bed. What a shitty hotel…
Beep.
But why would there be constant beeping in a hotel?
John opened his eyes again, this time much more slowly, to assess his surroundings.
Starch white walls, a bunch of doohickeys, starch white sheets, and a window.
John was confused to see that the place was littered with flowers and cards and all that rubbish.
He was definitely not in a hotel.
John craned his neck a tiny bit to look at himself.
Wires and tubes stuck into his arm and somewhere else under his sheets… John didn’t want to know where those ones led to.
Sheets tucked tightly around him.
Metal bars on either side of the bed.
Definitely a hospital, that much is clear. But real question is how did he end up here?
Wait a minute. What the…
What the bloody hell is that? There’s something on his face in his line of vision. On his nose.
Some sort of cast.. how the fuck did he break his nose?! He must’ve gotten into a fight…
“…well it’s your fault anyways!” A muffled voice came from outside of his door. It sounded like George, but he rarely ever yelled like that.
“MY fault?! How is this MY fault?” A second voice. Definitely Paul’s. What were they yelling about? And why weren’t they in here with him?
“Yer not stupid Paul, so stop actin’ like you are! You KNOW what I’m talking about! ”
“NO, I DON’T! I have no IDEA what yer on about George!”
“Then ya really are STUPID!”
“FUCK YOU!”
“Lads… calm down! We should be worryin’ about John right now. You two can have yer little row later.” The always sensible voice of reason, Ringo.
“There’s nothin’ we can do Ringo! He’s been out of it fer a week!”
John gasped when he heard this, immediately causing a sharp pain to shoot up through his chest, black spots appearing in front of his eyes as he fought to stay conscious. He steadied his breathing, making sure not to breathe in too deeply, eventually recovering from the shock as well as the pain as he continued to listen. A week he said…
“He’ll wake up Paul; the doc says we just have to wait. Let’s just go eat some lunch and then figure out what to do next. We’re all under a lot of stress right now… I hope we can go back to the hotel soon, we all look like shit.”
An overwhelming feeling of terror came over him as he heard the three pairs of feet start to walk away. Why were they leaving him all alone?
John tried not to hyperventilate as his eyes drooped shut and he gave in to his exhaustion. Maybe if he just slept for a while he’d feel better…
**
The three conscious Beatles walked into the canteen together, but Paul opted to eat alone. He sat at the table in the furthest corner, letting off a sort of dark energy that made everyone around them too scared to approach him. Ringo himself wasn’t scared, but he decided not to push the issue.
Besides, he was secretly happy to have some alone time with George.
Ringo had noticed a lot of things about George over this past week when they were alone. Things he’s amazed he hadn’t noticed until the two started sitting in a hospital’s canteen together every day. And now, sitting here pretending to eat his food when he was really just watching George, Ringo went over all those things in his head.
Like the way George would talk with his hands. It was quite enthralling, really, watching George paint a picture with the flick of a wrist or the jutting of a finger, and Ringo often found himself paying more attention to those hands then the actual stories.
George had really nice hands actually, which made them all the more interesting to watch. Ringo would often catch himself watching George’s hands no matter what they were doing. He could watch them all day.
“Is that any good?” George suddenly asked with a point of his finger.
“What?” Ringo knew what he was talking about, but decided to play dumb. Playing dumb always came easy to the drummer.
“That. Yer muffin.” George wagged his finger animatedly at the food in question.
“Oh na, it’s pretty grotty actually.” Ringo grinned at the in-joke.
“Can I have it then?” No discouraging George when it came to food.
The drummer nodded and reached across the table to hand it to him. George met him halfway and practically snatched the food from Ringo’s clutches. The younger man brought the muffin to his open mouth and took a healthy bite.
That was another thing Ringo had noticed recently. George’s mouth. A very lovely mouth, it was. And even with its seemingly permanent scowl, it was still nice. Ringo wouldn’t mind getting to know it a little better…
All these new thoughts and border-line obsessions seriously made Ringo question his previously set-in-solid sexuality. Never in his short- no pun intended -life had he ever admired another man’s mouth.
As a matter of fact, he’d never admired anything physical about any bloke until he started looking at George. It wasn’t just his mouth he liked either; it was pretty much his whole face. He had amazing cheek-bones, dark soulful eyes, and even the thick, bushy eyebrows that had Ringo hooked. And don’t even get him started on what he liked about George’s body; the list would be much too long and inappropriate.
It amazed Ringo how he hadn’t realized it before, but George was bloody beautiful. And now that he had, it was like something in his brain clicked; like something suddenly became complete.
Ringo knew was falling for George Harrison, but he couldn’t be happier about it. Sure at first it had freaked him out a bit, but it’s really not so bad. It was kind of like his “Aha!” moment. The more he thought about it, the more obvious it seemed. First of all, it wasn’t really cheating since he was just looking, not touching. And secondly, now that he thought about it, George actually looked a lot like Maureen. Which is kind of scary.
And it’s not like it was one-sided either. Ringo may not seem like the smartest guy, but he always kind of knew that George’s feelings towards him were a little bit more than platonic. Ringo had an eye for these things, you see.
“Bleh.” George said, still chewing. “Yer right. That is pretty grotty.” He took another huge bite anyways, chewing angrily.
Ringo smiled and shook his head at the guitarist. Since his guitar wasn’t around, George was taking his stress out on his food.
“Ya really can’t blame Paul fer John not eating y’know…”
“But it’s HIS FAULT for not noticing how John feels about him.” George said loudly and glared over Ringo’s shoulder at the accused man to emphasize his point.
“George, you didn’t even know until John told ya.” Ringo reminded him. That shut him up quick.
Sometime during the week, George had made it clear that he knew about John’s feelings towards the bassist which took Ringo by surprise. When John had told the younger man, he couldn’t be sure. But if he had to guess…
“’Ey George?”
“Whafth?” George tried to answer, his mouth full of the nasty muffin.
“When did John tell ya he liked Paul?” Ringo had been wondering about this since the moment George told him he knew. Could it be possible that when John told George he liked Paul, George had a little confession of his own? It was a very reasonable possibility.
George raised an eyebrow before slowly swallowing down the muffin. “Umm.. why?” He asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Just wonderin’.”
“Well.. ‘bout a week ago I think. A few days before the concert.”
“Same night as their row?”
“Er, yeh.. I think so.”
“After I got back to the room?”
Ringo saw the guitarist swallow thickly before half-shrugging, half-nodding.
“Mm.” Ringo nodded back in understanding. On the outside he seemed calm enough, but inside his heart was beating rapidly. Did George know John came into the room? Did George tell John to come in? Ringo highly doubted the latter, but something in his gut told him otherwise. Perhaps it was just his optimism getting the best of him..
“Did you and John talk about anythin’ else?” Ringo asked with feigned nonchalance, eyeing his younger friend carefully.
“No.” George answered almost immediately.
“Ya… just talked about Paul?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Right.” Ringo leaned forward, propped his head up with his hands, and regarded George silently. George was looking around almost frantically and, Ringo couldn’t help but notice, playing with his hands in his lap.
“George..”
The man’s eyes stopped on the drummers, and for a moment the two merely looked at each other.
“Did ya know John came into our room that night?” Ringo dragged the question out but kept his tone light.
“He… what? When?!” Ringo saw a flash of what he thought to be realization flash across the guitarists face. Ringo held back a smile. So George did know what John had told him, or at least had an idea.
Ringo shrugged. “Had to be around 5 in the mornin’…”
“Ah, well… did he say anythin’, uh, weird?” George was definitely implying something there, his brown eyes drilling into Ringo’s blue ones.
Ringo looked away and down at his rings.
“He did, actually.” Ringo thought he heard George suck in a breath. He had to know what John had said. But the real question here was: is what he said true? Or was John just fucking with them both?
“What..uh, what was it about?” The younger man caught his bottom lip between his teeth and nibbled softly, his eyes still on the drummer’s. Ringo tried not to get too distracted by the sight, wanting to get to the bottom of this.
The drummer let out a long breath as if he were trying to remember.
He caught his elbow in his right hand, cupping his chin with his left. After dragging on the charade for longer than necessary, switching between drumming his fingers on the table and stroking his chin thoughtfully, Ringo finally snapped his fingers, his face lighting up with faked excitement. “Oh yeh!” he grinned knowingly at George. “It was about you!”
George’s mouth twitched slightly, the rest of his face staying neutral.
“R-really?” The only thing that worried Ringo was George’s failure to hide the genuine stutter in his voice. Ringo’s grin as well as his confidence faltered a bit. Why was George suddenly stuttering? That couldn’t be good. But he kept pushing.
“Yeh.” Ringo leaned across the table and brought his voice down to a mischievous whisper. “Wanna know what he told me?”
Ringo took a deep breath, willing his confidence to stay in check. This was it; as soon as George said yes, Ringo was going to lean in kiss him. That should make it pretty clear how he feels, and tell him if his gut feeling about George liking him had been true. Ringo didn’t even care that they were in the middle of a canteen, there wasn’t that many people around anyways.
George’s face turned a shade of red as he quickly shook his head.
What the..? That’s not what Ringo had been expecting.
“What? Why not?” The drummer couldn’t hide the shock in his voice.
George looked like he was about to vomit or pass out, or both. “S’not my business..” He mumbled.
“But I can make it yer business if I tell ya.” The drummer leaned in even closer.
George shook his head again, this time more adamantly. Ringo didn’t know what to do.
“George, I wanna tell you.”
“But I don’t wanna know.”
Ringo pulled back. “Why?!”
“Because.”
“George.”
“Ringo.”
“Just say ‘yes’”
“But I don’t want ya to tell me!”
“George, come on.”
“No.”
“But it’s about you!”
“I don’t care.”
“George.”
“Look, I really don’t wanna know Ringo.”
“But I really want to tell you!”
“No!”
“Yes!”
“I’m leaving.”
“What? No!”
“Then just leave it. Please.” George’s face was still red but at least he didn’t look like he was on the verge of showing Ringo his half digested muffin.
The drummer stared at George pleadingly until the younger man spoke again. “Look… I’m pretty sure I already know what he told you.” Ringo felt a sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach. It sounded like there was a “but” coming… oh no. It’s not supposed to go like this. George likes him, he does.
“But… just forget about it, okay?” George stared down at his hands. “It’s nothing…”
“..So, yer saying John was…” Lying? He wanted to ask, but couldn’t finish his sentence.
George nodded anxiously, assuming Ringo was about to say ‘telling the truth’. “Just… don’t let it change how you think of me, okay? Please..”
Now Ringo felt like he was about to vomit.
His shoulders started to sag as realization set in. So John really had been fucking with Ringo when he said George liked him, and George knew about it too. Well, shit. Fuckin’ John…
Ringo felt like an idiot. He’d been rejected before he’d even had a chance to even explore his feelings.
Had Ringo been imagining all the lingering looks and touches he got from George all these years? Apparently so. He’d just been seeing what he wanted to see.
The drummer suddenly stood. This awkwardness was starting to suffocate him, he needed to get away.
“Where’re ya goin’?” George sounded worried.
“Out.”
George grabbed onto Ringo’s wrist before he could walk away. “M’sorry! Please don’t hate me; I can’t help how I feel!” He said, desperate to make the drummer understand. He tried to tug Ringo back down into his chair but he wouldn’t budge.
Ringo couldn’t bring himself to look at the younger man. Rejection already felt bad enough when it was some bird, but being rejected by George made it feel even more awful, ten-fold.
“I know George… neither can I.” Ringo gently removed his arm from the guitarist’s grip and started walking away.
Why would John do something like this do him and George? This wasn’t some silly joke! You can’t just mess with peoples’ feelings like that! Ruin peoples’ friendships.
There was no way Ringo could see George as just a mate anymore, no way in hell. God, he wasn’t even going to be able to room with him for the rest of the tour, it would drive him mad. He’d have to go back to rooming with…
No. Ringo refused to room with John. It’d have to be Paul.
Because Ringo knew one thing for sure as he walked out of that room…
He was done with John.
**
George watched as Ringo as well as his friendship slipped out between his fingers.
Ringo had rejected him. Already. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to make a move yet! It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, George was going to go about this carefully so something like this wouldn’t happen. But now he didn’t even have a chance, Ringo had made it clear how he felt as soon as he’d walked out that door.
This was all John’s fault.
George didn’t want to believe it. John had lied to him! He told George that he could trust him, and what does he do? He tells Ringo about George’s feelings less than five minutes after he was told himself! Fucking lying prick! George was going to murder him as soon as he woke up. Come to think of it, George would much prefer it if John never woke up, that would save him some time.
George was glad John had fainted. That’s what he gets for being such an awful person.
The guitarist put his face in his hands. Oh no, he was not about to start crying over this. He rubbed at his eyes angrily, trapping the oncoming tears inside his eyes.
“George…”
Great, just what he needed. Paul.
George decided not to answer; convinced he’d eventually just leave. It was silent for a moment before the sound of a chair being pulled up filled him with dread.
“What was all that about? What’s wrong with Ringo?”
George still didn’t answer, only shrugging.
“I mean, he looked pretty sad…”
You look pretty sad.
“Dontcha wanna talk about it?”
George grunted.
“C’mon George. What’d ya do?” Paul teased.
“I didn’t do anything! It was John!” The guitarist suddenly yelled, his head snapping up to look at the bassist.
“Oh really? Did he do it with his telekinesis then? Because last time I checked, John was in a bloody coma.” Paul snapped.
“Go away, Paul. M’still mad at you.” George grumbled, regretting his earlier choice of words.
“Wha-? Why?!”
“Ugh! You KNOW why ya -“
Wait a minute… maybe Paul was telling the truth when he say he didn’t know. It was definitely more than a possibility that John hadn’t confessed yet. But George could have sworn he noticed something different between them that one morning before the concert.
“Ya really don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”
“No I really don’t, George. That’s what I’ve been tellin’ you all week!”
A brilliant idea popped into his head. George held back the malicious smile tugging at his lips.
“Fine, I’ll tell you…”
Paul lifted an eyebrow when George leaned in slightly across the table. “What is it then?”
George paused for dramatic effect, letting the bassist’s anxiousness build up.
“John wants to fuck you.” He finally said matter-of-factly.
The look on Paul’s face could be classified as a Kodak moment. George resisted the urged to rub his hands together and cackle manically.
“What?! George! What the hell-“ Paul’s eyes were practically twice as big as they already were, his eyebrows halfway up his forehead.
“I’m not lying. Just ask Ringo, he knows too.” George said calmly.
Paul’s face was in flames at this point.
“He wasn’t eating ‘cause he was too busy fretting over you and all that rubbish.”
George stared silently, waiting for a reply. “Now you get it?”
Paul didn't answer, only staring at his hands looking horrified, so George took that as a yes.
The guitarist turned away and lit a cigarette, taking a long drag before speaking. “Then go away.”
Eventually, Paul did just that. He slowly stood up and silently went back over to his table.
George couldn’t look at him, already trying to push away the feeling of regret.
The guitarist slouched down sadly in his chair. Now he was just as bad as John.
**
“Yes, yes I know and I’m sorry…. No he’s still in the hospital. Of course, that’s-…. No, he hasn’t woken up yet… What do you mean? ….No, no. There’s no need…. Um, yes….. No… Well, I mean if there’s any way I could… Oh...right, well, thank you for your time anyway.”
Brian sighed and gently set the phone back into its cradle. This whole fiasco was proving to be quite problematic.
The man closed his eyes and massaged his temples. He wasn’t prepared for something like this. One of his boys fainting on stage in the middle of a concert; it was ridiculous. Laughable, really. He had no idea what to do about the rest of the tour. If John didn’t wake up soon, he’d have to just cancel the whole thing, which he definitely did not want to do…
And now these rumors that John has some sort of eating disorder and was suicidal have somehow spread around, Brian didn’t know what to do.
Derrick was trying his hardest to deflect this awful rumor, but his word could only go so far. The public wouldn’t have any of it unless it was the man himself who denied these accusations.
But John couldn’t very well clear his public image when he was in a coma, now could he?
Brian picked up the phone and punched in some numbers.
“Mal? Yes, hello. Listen, I need you to send a car to pick the boys up from the hospital. Wouldn’t want any sneaky fans finding them and sending the place into frenzy. Yes, right now. Alright, thank you. Bye.”
Brian once again hung up the phone and started to sift through the papers on his makeshift desk. And by makeshift desk I mean coffee table.
All this stress had Brian more anxious and nervous than normal. He just needed something to take off the edge… ah yes, there it is.
Brian unscrewed the cap of the little bottle and dumped some of its contents into his hand.
One, two, three. He tipped back his head and swallowed the pills dry.
The man almost immediately felt the effects of the pills and began to relax.
John would most definitely wake up soon. He had too.
It would probably all work out in the end for him and the boys. As long as they stuck together…
**
Oh shit, quick, click the next entry.