𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖑𝖊 𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖔 // 𝖒𝖈𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖗

tantrum

Paul's POV

I don't know what has got into Ringo. He's been more tired lately (not surprising) and has been acting like a child. I mean this literally, not like an insult. It's been the little things he's been doing. Like sucking on his thumb, getting cranky, and even throwing a bit of baby words into his vocabulary. Although it has been cute, this was not.

• • •

It was a normal day in the studio. Me and John were writing songs, while George and Ringo were playing a game of marbles. When me and John were finally done working on the song we've been working on for a couple of days, we decided we wanted to start working on it.

When we were working on the song, John said, "Hey, George, I think this would be a great song for you to sing!" This seemed to make Ringo upset. Very upset.

"Why are you twats always singing? It's never 'Ringo, I want you to sing a song.' IT'S ALWAYS YOU GUYS! I WANT TO SING MORE SONGS!!" Ringo exclaimed, stomping his feet. By the sound of his voice breaking and the anger and tears in his eyes, I could definetly tell he was gonna throw a tantrum. Being the good boyfriend I was, I went over and tried to comfort him. But when I tried to hug him, he shoved me off.

"LEAVE ME ALONE PAUL!" Ringo shouted angrily. By now, he was definetly throwing a tantrum. He began to stomp his feet and cry.

"I DON'T WANT TO TALK TO ANY OF YOU!" Ringo screamed at Paul and the others. And with that, he turned on his heel and stormed off into the hall and shut himself in the bathroom. It was so strange. Ringo never got angry. He was always a cheery, happy-go-lucky guy. I would never expect him to do something like that.

Brian came in as if on que, confused. "What was all that yelling for?" He asked cluelessly.

"Ringo threw a tantrum." John sighed.

"Well that's kind of embarassing if I could hear him from outside. Is he alright? What was all that yelling for?"

"He got all mad because we wouldn't let him sing. Of course we were gonna let him sing a song, just not this one." George said.

"I see. Well where is he? I wanna talk to him." He asked looking around.

"I wouldn't talk to him now Eppy, I would just leave him alone and let him calm down. He'll come out when he wants to talk." I said. Hopefully he'll come out soon.

So we just messed around on our guitars until Ringo came out. I was getting worried. It's been half an hour since he yelled at us and he still hasn't come out of the bathroom.

"Hey, I don't know about you but I'm getting a little worried about Ringo. It's been a while." I said nervously.

"He'll be fine, just give him time." John said carelessly.

"That's it, I'm going to check on him." I put my bass back on its stand and walked down the hall to the bathroom. I decided it would be safe to knock first. First knock: nothing. Second knock:

"Who is it?" He asked, his voice still cracking.

"It's Paul."

"...come in" When I opened the door, my heart instantly broke in two. Leaning against the wall was the man I loved dearly, with puffy red eyes and tears streaming down his face. I rushed towards him and held him close to my chest. He seemed to be repeating 'im sorry' over and over into my chest, his words being muffled.

"It's okay, Ringo. I'm not mad.. shhh." I soothed, stroking his hair. I could feel my shirt becoming drenched with his tears. Some people can cry and stop after a while, but Ringo can cry for an eternity. I know from experience.

"I-I'm sorry f-for yelling at you and t-t-the others." He sobbed. I didn't even realize it, but he's been using my shirt as a tissue. I didn't like admiting it, but lets say Ringo's nose is a bit larger than others. And boy did it produce a lot of snot! I remembered some tissues (not used) in my pocket and gave them to him.

"Here, baby. Blow your nose!" I laughed. It seemed to make him laugh a little as well.

"Do you want to appologize to the others now?" I asked him. He just nodded, obviously tuckered out from his little fit he had earlier. By now he was only dry heaving and sniffling.

I got up, but Ringo stayed on the ground. He sat there with pleading eyes. But when he started doing the grabby thing with his hands, I understood what he wanted. I picked him up and carried him to the others. Everyone waited obediently, waiting for Ringo to say something. He panicked and looked at me with his big, blue glistening eyes. "It's okay, just tell them how you feel." I whispered.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you guys, I wasn't being very nice." He appologized.

"It's alright, Ringo. John and I forgive you." George said. Ringo hid his face in my chest and closed his eyes.

"Looks like someones a little sleepy!" John giggled. In a matter of a few minutes, Ringo was asleep in my arms. I could hear Brian walking in, silently "awwwing"

"Is he alseep?" Brian whispered. I nodded. "I hope the lad feels a bit better. Have a goodnight boys!" Brian said, whisper-shouting.

When I got home, I carried a still-sleeping Ringo out of the car, went inside, and tucked him into our warm bed. I hoped he would be in the mood to talk about how he has been feeling tomorrow.