Paranoid (A Beatles Fanfiction)

The Fun Has Just Begun

It was always good for a laugh. John, bouncing around the stage, clapping his hands, puffing out his jaw, stomping one leg on the ground just to make fun of the mentally disabled people who would often sit front row during their shows.

It was okay at first actually, it was just John being John, always having that racy sense of humor, but from the beginning, George never did appreciate it. Nor did he appreciate the fans cheering him on for it; even the disabled ones.

But one thing that seemed to bother George more than anything was when John would pick on him for hearing and seeing things that aren't real. John that George was just a bit mental, in a joking way.

Though John didn't think much of it, it still hurt George quite a bit because well...an unknown fact about George Harrison was that he suffered with psychosis. Or, better known, schizophrenia. He saw and heard things he knew wasn't real, he would have hallucinations, voices would tell him that John, Paul, Ringo, Brian or whoever was around was out to get him and kill him. False beliefs plagued his mind.

It was hell, it really was. Yes, he was on medication for it, but the stress from touring didn't help. And the stress from making yet another movie, "Help!" just made him more paranoid and more anxious everyday. Somedays he wondred if he was going to jump out of his own skin.

The teasing wasn't bad, but it wasn't really good either. And of corse everyone knew John Lennon took everything as a joke. Nothing was or ever will be serious wth him. Though no one else knew of George's current mental state besides his parents and his siblings, he wondered if John was smart enough to notice.

He would often wave his hands in front of George's face when George would zone out from hallucinating. And often times when the voices and hallucinations would get worse and worse at night, John would wake George up and he would say it was just a dream. But, George could tell by the look in John's eyes that he knew something was up.

One night after a show (where John had done the same exact thing) they all sat in their dressings rooms, a small delay on their limousine. Paul was cleaning his face off with a towel, Ringo was in the back room taking a shower and George and John went into a bathroom to change their cloths and to freshen up.

"Good show, aye Georgie?" George nodded. "Yeah, it was alright. Couldn't hear myself but it was good." John smirked a bit. "Know why right?" George was now pulling down his suited pants that were annoyingly sticking to his legs. "Why?" "It's cause they really want to shag us George! I saw women in this audience, not girls." George rolled his eyes, still struggling with the one pant leg. "No shit, Sherlock. It's a late show. Curfew's are in a lot of cities in the states and Cleveland's curfew is like nine and the show started at nine." John laughed a bit. "Well wouldn't it be nice if we could go outside and try to snag a bird or two for the night? These were older women in the crowds. Girls our age and up!" George smirked a bit. "John Lennon, are you saying you want a cougar?" "Not saying it wouldn't be bad to have a gal that knows a thing or two." George and John both shared a laugh until Mal burst into the bathroom, face red and flushed, struggling to catch his breath. George now managed to pull his pants down. "Lads, the car is here. Hurry it up." with that Mal shut the door, leaving George to struggle putting his pants on.

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John and George shared a room that night once they were back at their hotel. Paul and Ringo roomed a few doors down the hall and as soon as they arrived to their rooms, Paul and Ringo slammed the doors and headed to bed. "Lazy gits." John laughed. George shrugged his shoulders as he stuck the key in the door. "It's nearly twelve now. And we've got to leave at eight tomorrow so I'm actually glad we didn't bring anyone with us or had any parties."

John scoffed a bit and the door opened. George flicked on the light. "George Harrison, are you trying to rid of the party life?" George laughed and shook off his coat. "No, just tired is all. It's been a long day." John yawned a bit as he took off his watch and said, "Yeah, well I'm in need of a kip myself. Right after a shower. You need in the bathroom George?" George's eyes shot up. "Uh yeah...I've just got to get my medication." Medication? What medication? Shit. George shouldn't have said that.

"George, what are you on about? Did you grab Ringo's meds by mistake?" George walked backwards to the bathroom awkwardly, John watching his every move. "Uh yeah...yeah...he took them earlier and wanted me to keep them with me." John didn't believe it. "George, let me see the medication." "John, I really don't-" "Something has been up with you for a long while and it's on the tip of my tongue. Before we do any other shows I want to see the meds to make sure you're not ill." George nervously laughed. "John, i'm totally fine." John ignored George and darted into the bathroom, George right behind him.

"John! Fucking hell, John! Stop!" George yelled through gritted teeth as John grabbed a small travel size medicine bag from the sink counter. George struggled to grab the bag from John's hands but couldn't see what he was doing since the light was off. John shoved George off, accidentally slamming him into the side of a towel holder. George tried to tackle him but he couldn't bring John down; he was bigger than most thought.

John shoved him off and turned around. "Give me my fucking bag John!" John held it behind his back like a child. "Shall I go wake Ringo and inform him you have his drugs or do you want to stop your bloody lying and tell me what's wrong?" "It's none of your fucking business!" "Yes it is, George! You're my brother...and I worry about you. So does Paul, Ringo and every fuckin' other person that hangs onto us during touring." things were silent for a moment. George's heavy breathing could be heard loudly.

"John...my medication, my personal life and my personal affairs are none of your fucking concern. I will tell you this, I am fine...I am totally okay. There is nothing to be worried about, okay? If I feel the need to tell you about my problems, I will. I promise you you'll be the first to know. Okay?"

John thought for a moment and sighed heavily. He didn't want to give up. He wanted to know what was wrong with George, he NEEDED to know. He wanted to be someone George could talk to, but even he knew it would be hard to do. John Lennon has never been the soft, comforting type.

John slowly handed George his medication back. "Here," he said softly as the small bag landed in George's hand, "but if you ever have any problems at all, please let me know. Or Paul, or Ringo. Let someone know. I don't care where we are or what we're doing. Just come to someone." George nodded and gripped the small bag in his hand like it was his lifeline. "Thank you." John nodded stiffly and went into the bathroom to take a well needed shower.

And after he was out, George took one as well, taking his medication in with him and locking the door behind him. "Damnit," John thought, "this could take forever."

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After taking a brief shower, George took out five pill bottles and sat them out by the sink. He sighed heavily and picked up the first one. Slowly opening it up. "Why would John be so concerned about my pills?" He wondered. George took one capsule out and placed it in his hand. It was Paxil, his anti-depressant. Next, his anxiety pill, Busbar, then a pill that his Doctor had given him months ago to help him sleep. The next one was to stop headaches. And the last one was Abilify...his schizophrenia medication. The one that should be helping the most but isn't helping at all. The illness that makes him see shapes, colors and people that aren't real during concerts, the illness that makes him believe someone is out to hurt him, the illness that causes him to be so quiet and emotionless, and sloppy, and tired, and just...scared.

And this was only just the beginning.

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