Psycho Killer || Starrison

Chapter Seven

The next day the Beatles spent in their homes. Alone.

George was constantly distressed by guilt. He couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. He wasn't able to function normally. The guitarist tried to find anything to do, to distract himself but nothing lasted long.

John was still crying for his best friend. He didn't believe anything would help. It was already too late. But he was consumed by the desire for revenge. Lennon didn't know what to do and how to do this; he knew he couldn't leave this case though. Not when it was about Paul's life. And that someone took it away.

Ringo, however, lost in all of this, tried not to lose his hope, which wasn't easy at all. Somebody else would simply give up, but not Ringo... Ringo... George was thinking about him a lot nowadays. More than ever. That was the only thing that would keep his mind busy... To keep himself alive. That would let him forget of what had happened... What he has done. Harrison imagined their gazes meeting. Big, blue eyes looking lovingly in his own, dark ones. He wondered how would it feel to hold his beloved boy, to hug and kiss his soft lips.

All of these thoughts have always been with him. George couldn't get rid of them ever since he met the drummer for the first time. Yes, Ringo was the man of his dreams. Harrison would never had enough courage to confess his feelings. Even in ordinary circumstances. Now certainly wasn't the right moment. Richard was one of very few reasons why the guitarist hasn't completely gone out of his mind. The unconditional love towards him kept his feet on the ground. Even when he thought he couldn't go on anymore.

George was used to those feelings. Just like many other things he was seeing and doing. Things he regretted, and was ashamed of. That he couldn't stem. No one gave him any choice, same as with falling in love. When it comes to those he really had no impact. He did not choose to be gay.

To Arthur loving another man didn't really matter. His companion didn't understand love, the gender of lovers made no difference here.

***

Harrison had very much time to get used to his everyday routine. Its biggest advantage was loneliness. He didn't have to see anybody, didn't need to fear that someone could suspect him, didn't need to care about anything. Arthur gave no sign of his presence, did he know it wasn't the best moment? May be... Either way nothing disturbed the young man. He kept telling himself so at least.

But at one point he got a phone call. George almost jumped on his place, surprised. What could it be? He hesitantly got up and answered.

"Halo-"

"George! I'm done with this! I can't just sit and wait forever!" Voice on the other end of line was undoubtedly John's. At first the guitarist didn't understand, what's it all about. His friend however kept talking. "If these idiots from Scotland Yard don't do anything, we have to! We gotta try and catch this monster! For Macca."

"John, calm down. What are you talking about?"

"Murderer! We must find him. I already called Ringo. Be at my place about four."

"John, how do you- it's in half an hour."

"Exactly. So you better hurry up. We'll talk when you get here. Bye," Lennon hanged up before George had a chance to protest. He hanged up as well resigned. So John was going to start a probe? What does that even mean? How was he going to do it?

Harrison looked at the clock, the time was running fast. He headed to the bathroom, he had to make himself look decent. Since he stopped going to work regularly he hasn't really bother about hygiene. He has also stopped shaving. He should be quick.

***

In the end the guitarist was only fifteen minutes late. Fifteen minutes was enough to make John go crazy though. He was an emotional basket case anyway.