Help! | McLennon

We're Going Home

"I love you so fucking much. We'll be out of here soon, I promise," John said and left Paul's room. He did it only because it was what Dr. Curter had demanded. They had to draw Paul's blood again, but he would be allowed to get visitors right after the procedure was done.

"John! We've been looking for you, mate!" George exclaimed when John plopped down in the lobby. His and Ringo's faces lightened up when they noticed that John seemed happier than before.

"He's awake, ain't he?"

His stomach was overcome by a slightly tingling feeling as he remembered getting woken up by Paul's delicate kisses on his neck.

"Yeah, he is."

"Can we see him now?" Ringo asked. He took a sip from a bottle of water, which he later passed on to John. He hadn't realized it earlier, but he was thirsty.

"They're getting his blood again. You can see him when they're done."

"Oh, that's such a relief! Did he seem okay?" George asked with a concerned expression on his face. Ringo also stared at John, waiting for the answer, but the lad needed to chug half of the bottle first. He realized that he was feeling a little hungry too.

"Yeah, he seemed like himself. Like Paul." An uncontrolable smile took over his face. "We talked a little, but we talked. I think we—"

He didn't finish, because suddenly the building flooded with reporters and some other unwanted people. He gazed out the window nervously and saw three television vans pulled up in the parking space.

"Fuck a pig, they found us!"

"John! John! How is Paul doing?!" one reporter asked, before they even managed to think of running away.

"Why did he relapse?" asked another, pushing her microphone straight in John's face. He responded to that with an annoyed grunt.

"We're here too, you know?" George hissed after getting rudely pushed away by the next curious reporter trying to get to John. While pushing them all away John glimpsed around and noticed that the receptionist was on the phone, most likely notifying security. Maybe she was calling Dr. Curter himself to give the news people a talk about hospital policy, like he had done to them.

All the murmur around him was quickly starting to really piss him off. It was one of those moments when he truly wished he wasn't famous. He wanted to be with his loved one, not to answer bullshit questions. Luckily before he had time to properly blow up and make a fuss, the security came to action and took care of the mess. Those who didn't run away after seeing them were forced out. Their unsatisfied complaints could be heard even from the inside.

"I bloody hate people. How can somebody be so insensitive?" Ringo said in frustration, sitting back down.

"Yeah, I know it's their job to stalk us, but why is it so hard to take under consideration that Paul may want privacy?! Fucking twats..." George shook his head and rested it against the wall. "How long can one blood drawing take, huh?"

Just as he finished saying it, the door to Paul's room swung open and a team of doctors came out. One of them nodded in The Beatles' direction, signaling that it was okay for them to come in.

"Do we wanna go separetely or...?" George questioned, eyeing the others. The two shook their heads is disagreement, then looked at eachother and smiled slightly. "Alright, then. Let's go."

They chatted with Paul, but very briefly, after noticing that he was not feeling all that well. John planted himself close to him, stroking his head affectionately the whole time. Paul kept saying that he was sorry and that he regreted he had done. Anytime he did that, the lads would assure him that he had nothing to apologize for, as usually. It didn't seem to calm him much, also as usually.