Drabble Series: Is 17 Legal? Let's Hope Kiddies!
Drabble 16 of 20: Monkeys (Sort of Sequel/Prequel to AU)
Pairing: Brian/Ringo
Disclaimer: I do not own the The Beatles. Any events here are purely fictional.
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If you, the reader, had somehow managed to find a drunk and aged Ringo Starr (real name Richard Starkey) one late night out in the town, you would find out that he blames himself for the death of Brian Samuel Epstein. His lover and manager of the The Beatles, a band he used to be part of.
He would cry on your shoulder while the two of you sat on your asses on the wet sidewalk as the only working streetlamp gives you two pathetic attempts of light and warmth against the darkness and chilly air.
Mr. Ringo, with snot running down his nose and clinging on to you for dear life like a life vessel (in a sense in this scenario, you are), would babble about the three times he saw the end of Brian before the man actually died and did absolutely nothing to stop it at all.
You listen.
I
Ringo and Brian walked down the street together after a hard day’s work of performing gigs, rehearsing for gigs, bookings gigs and arranging gigs. It was a sort of dramatic day for them. With Paul and John were bickering viciously again and all, but Brian managed to once more stop the squabbling. Even if he got chewed out and humiliated by the two before he stopped it.
Oh well, at least everything turned out alright for everybody. They were tired and frazzled but satisfied of the outcome of today. At least, Ringo thought the two of them were satisfied. He realized that he might be wrong as Brian slowly guided them to a direction to a street that he knows too well from him growing up in the rougher parts of town.
“Why are we going here?” Ringo asks, looking at the older man with wide eyes. Brian stops walking, they’re already deep in the street so it worried Ringo more than comforting him, and looks at him with a wince.
“Shit, I forgot you were walking with me…” Brian muttered under his breath, looking nervous and ashamed now.
“What do you mean?”
Brian placed his hands on Ringo’s shoulders, turning the drummer to face him. His mouth was set in a firm, grim line and he was positively sweating.
“Richard,” Brian began, “I…I need to do something. Can you wait for me here? It’ll just take me a few minutes to finish.”
“But-“
“Please?”
Ringo bit his lower lip but relented, promising to wait for his lover. Brian smiled, kissed him on the lips and all but dashed down the street before making a turn at an alley.
And so he waited.
With him leaning against a wall and trying to not make any eye contact with the ruffians here. It’ll just take a while for him to come back, Ringo told himself. Brian said so. He would never lie to me.
“YEAH!” Ringo was startled by the loud shout, nearly falling unto the ground. He looked at the direction of where he heard the noise, down the street where Brian went to, and- “Take it you little bitch, take it! Yeah, suck it good! Arrrrrgh!”
Ringo had heard those words before, so many times he no longer was bothered by it, but right now he felt his stomach tighten at the coarse words. Why? Only one way to find out, he supposed as he pushed himself off the wall and followed the sounds.
He stopped where the noise was coming from, an alley, and peeked his head to see what it was…oh…oh.
And there was Brian, on his knees as he gave a messy blowjob to a man who obviously gave not a damn to his well being.
The man thrusts in and out as he pleases while keeping a tight grip on Brian’s hair to make sure the manager of the The Beatles took everything in. Brian, with tears and saliva running down his face, takes it with little words besides the occasional gag and choking sound.
Ringo watches the scene with horror and shameful fascination, wondering why he didn’t step in and stop it now.
“That’s rightt,” the man sneered at Brian, slapping Brian’s face for good measure. “Suck my cock like the whore you are. Suck it good and I make gives you an extra one tonight.”
Brian says nothing but apparently performs more since the man gives out another yell of approval, thrusting harder and harder.
Giving out one more yell, the man pulls out of Brian’s mouth, letting the man take deep breaths of precious air, and wanks for a few seconds before blowing his load all over Brian’s face. Without saying anything, besides the occasional crude and heart-cutting remarks on Brian’s ‘good sucking’, the man tucks his softened cock back into his pants and rifles in his pockets before throwing something at Brian.
“There you go,” the man says. “Hope you enjoy those pills, you earned it. Maybe I should bring my friends next time and let them have a go with you. Shame to let your talents go to waste.”
Brian, with the cum still on his face, says nothing as he picks up whatever the man threw at him and stuffed it into his pocket. He calmly cleans his face, his eyes never meeting the man all the while.
Realizing that Brian expects him to be still at the wall (and not having a damn clue on what he did), Ringo goes back to the spot he was at and leans against it. He doesn’t dare to close his eyes for he might see those images again.
Brian, his proud Brian, was being used like that for some drugs. And Ringo didn’t do anything to stop it.
Later, much later, Brian comes back. He smiles at Ringo with his eyes dead and tired and doesn’t try to kiss him (much to Ringo’s relief). He just takes Ringo’s hand and walks him out of the street. Ringo wants to stop walking and ask:
Why? Why did you do that to yourself Brian? I saw what you were doing. Please stop it. I love you. Don’t do this to yourself love. You’re worth more than that. Stop
But Ringo doesn’t. He lets Brian lead them away from that street and they (well, he) never returned there again.
Ringo pretended that he never saw that.
(At this point, Ringo would try to stand up and leave but you convince to continue on with his story.
“It’s t-t-too painful,” he sniffles. “I just can’t.”
“Try sir,” you reply, “please. You’ve been carrying this weight on your shoulder for a long time. Talk to me about it, you’ll feel better.”
He looks at you. The once beautiful, blue eyes that captivated Brian and fans now bleary and (in your opinion) washed out.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” he says and he continues.)
II
It was during the height of Beatlemania when the next incident occurred. Shorter and less traumatic than the first one he had, but a powerful incident nonetheless.
They were at a party. Ringo forgot where it was or why they were there in the first place, but he remembers that they simply just wanted to have a good time. The drugs were free and in much supply, so the party was at full swing when midnight approached, all of them high and feeling like kings of the world.
Ringo, still high but reasonably less high than certain people in the party, stumbled out of the building he was at. Laughing and swaying, he belted out some tunes from their albums while leaning against a post with his arms wrapped around it, feeling like a million bucks at the moment.
Arms suddenly went under his armpits and yanked him away from his lovely lamppost, making him protest loudly before feverish, hot lips covered his in order to shut him up.
Ringo smiled and kissed back, passionately as Brian, wrapping his arms around the man’s neck. They didn’t give a damn if someone saw them sucking each the other’s face off. They had the excuse of bring drugged out of their minds if anyone saw the two of them there and then.
He can’t remember what happened next, except a few moans and the feeling of flesh pressed against flesh, but he definitely remembers the morning after that.
When he woke up, feeling shitty but satisfied, he rolled over to the other side and Ringo all but had a heart attack when he saw what the hell he was sleeping next to.
It was Brian. Or what looked like him. It was too pale and waxy-looking to really be his Brian. Too stiff looking and dead looking to be real and he hoped that it wasn’t real. Please.
Ringo sat up, shaking the shoulders of Brian.
“Brian! Brian!”
No response. Ringo felt tears well up in his eyes. No no no no no no no no no.
“Brian, wake up! Please!”
Ringo shakes harder and is soon rewarded with a groan from a still living Brian’s lip. Ringo all but cries out in joy and embraces Brian into a hug, trying not to lose anymore of his composure.
“Aurgh. Jesus Ringo, can’t you let me sleep peacefully for one morning?” Brian complained, grudgingly opening his eyes to give Ringo a hard, bleary stare. “Too early to have you slobbering all over me, even if I like it.”
“I-I thought y-y-you were dead!” Ringo said, stilling hugging Brian. Afraid that if he does let go, Brian will fall back down and not actually be asleep this time. “I thought you died from the damn drugs!”
He pulled away and looked into Brian’s eyes. “I love you Brian and I don’t want you to die from this. Please stop this, please. I love you and losing you would be too much for me. Please say yes.”
Most lovers in this situation would sober up immediately on hearing those words or a paraphrase of it at least, and try to soothe the other. They would hug the person in response, rock them back and forth, stroke the person’s hair and murmur sweet nothing into the person’s ear to calm them. They would then than that they were still alive and it won’t happen again with the utmost sincerity they could muster at that time.
But that didn’t happen with Brian and Ringo.
Instead his eyes harden and he pushed Ringo away, making the drummer fall out of the bed and unto the floor. Ringo’s ass hurt from the tumble and last night fuck but it didn’t compare to the agony he felt when Brian did that to him.
Before Ringo could do anything, Brian got up from the bed and started to gather his clothes scattered around the floor in stony silence.
“Please Brian,” Ringo begged. He walked over to where Brian was and tried to hug him again but only got pushed away from the man.
Brian simply dressed in his outfit, not caring that there were stains and markings he wouldn’t dare have shown in public, and went straight for the door. Ringo tried again, hoping to convert Brian from this path.
“I don’t want you to die from all those drugs!” He said. “Please stop taking them.”
Brian stopped and turned to look at Ringo, giving out a bark of scornful laughter. “That’s rich coming from you, isn’t Ringo?” Brian said.
Ringo said nothing after that.
(Ringo doesn’t try to leave but he stops at this point to stare at his hands, calloused and rough from all his years of drumming. Hands that once held Brian’s hands in the late nights and little moments they had.
“Am I a bad person?” He asks you.
“No,” you reply.
“But I didn’t do anything to stop him.”
You don’t say anything and instead reach for his roughened, drummers hands to hold them in your softer, younger hands.
He smiles, but the smile is still a sad one, and he says the final incident.)
III
It was just a few months before Brian OD’ed on his sleeping pills.
Their relationship had begun to sour from all the stress and pressure they were having. While they had their tender moments, a bitter fight was ready to spring up about it.
The fight they had wasn’t any different that night while auguring over something Ringo has long forgotten. All he remembered was that it didn’t involve the last two incidents and it was probably over the pettiest of things.
The bickering over…whatever it was soon became the issues and resentments they had against the other. It boiled over some sort of remark the other said and then Brian’s home became a battlefield between him and Ringo. Insults and cutting words were thrown without care, baseless accusations and cruel remarks were passed back and forth.
“You never cared for anyone but yourself,” Ringo said. His voice hoarse and tired from all the shouting he ha done. “I tried to be there for you but always kept pushing me away!”
“You kept pushing, pushing, pushing, that’s why!” Brian said, “I couldn’t walk two steps without you breathing down my damn neck.” He raised his voice higher, mimicking a shrilly parody of what was Ringo’s voice. “What are you doing Brian? Why are you taking so long Brian? Want to talk about it Brian? Brian, Brian, Brian!”
Ringo soon said, finally hitting his breaking point, “why don’t you die than if you’re so unhappy then?”
“Maybe I want to die Ringo!” Brian shot back, crying now. “Maybe I want to die and no longer be in this hell hole! I’m sick and tired of all of this! All of this just makes me want to crawl under a rock and die. The fucking stress, the others’ own bickering, having to face YOU in these stupid fights, too much!”
Brian suddenly smashed his fist into a wall, bruising himself and making Ringo wince. He yelled a primitive, coarse shout. No words or curses. Just a sound that sounded as if it came from an enraged animal. Ringo took a step back
“There’s nothing, NOTHING that makes me thinks otherwise,” Brian said solemnly and blandly, like he was stating a casual fact.
They said nothing for a few minutes, looking at one another in shock (Ringo) and resignation (Brian).
Ringo walked towards Brian, shaking as he leaned closer to kiss Brian’s wet cheek. He didn’t know what to say. They had thrown harsh words at one another, yes, but that was just…how could he describe how felt right now?
“What…what a-a-about me, B-Brian?” He asked pathetically, voice trembling and faint, “don’t I matter to you? Don’t I mean anything to you at all?”
Brian looked at him, looking just as tired and beaten as he felt right now, and said to him…
…
Ringo doesn’t remember the words anymore. Or, at least, he thinks he no longer remembers the words.
Ringo thinks, believes, that he never heard the words.
(You two don’t talk or say anything after that. The two of you just simply sit there on the ground, looking at anything but the other person.
“I feel better now,” Ringo says finally, looking at you with those washed out blue eyes. He smiles at you and stands up, helping you get on your feet. “Thanks for listening to me.”
You give him an encouraging smile and wave to him as he walks off, happy to have listened to his woes.)
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But you don’t.
That will never happen. Not in a million years The probability of you meeting him and those events happening are impossible to mythical.
You don’t see a drunk, aged and tired Ringo Starr at all.
He won’t say anything about those incidents.
No one will hear it.
Maybe it’s the best that way.
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LOL at fail angst, plot and description of sex. /shotshotshotshotshot/ That joke was intentional, by the way. /shotshotshotshotshotshotshotshotnuked/
Changed the theme ‘Drugs’ to ‘Monkeys’ due to the phrase ‘See No Evil, Speak No Evil, Hear No Evil’. I don’t know why but I was originally writing the Drugs when I wrote down ‘Ringo said nothing’ and I suddenly had this idea instead. Pretty odd eureka moment, huh?
This goes out to eppieblack who asked for a prequel/midquel/sequel thing to the other Beatles story I wrote, AU. Check out the link I have if you're interested.. I have to say, this is one of my raunchier (and tediously longer) works. I’m sorry if this isn’t what they wanted exactly. I am really sorry.
Hoped you enjoyed reading this!
