Pretty Boy [j.l + p.m]

xviii (get ready for the dissapointment)

(I just wanted to say how grateful I am to everyone who supported this book! This was the first fanfic that I ever wrote and the random ass plot makes me gag but I didn't want to leave it unfinished so I made an ending, and this is the very very short & shitty end. I hope you have a fantastic day/whatever ♡)

     John never called Ringo.

Ringo had been anxiously sitting by the phone when he got the call.

"I'm sorry, but they couldn't save him."

John had swerved onto oncoming traffic and spun out of control.

It was a nasty accident that landed four people in the hospital and one fatality.

Ringo watched as they lowered his grave. He watched Paul collapse onto Mick's chest and sob.

What John would say if he knew Paul was crying over him, a shell of the pretty boy he used to be?

"I did this to him!"

Ringo felt his heart lurch. What would Paul do if he found out that John had gotten drunk at his house before driving?

"Paul, he did this to himself. It was a freak accident, now grow the fuck up." Mick spat, shoving Paul away.

Ringo stepped closer to them, ready to confront Mick. Paul didn't deserve getting treated like shit during John's funeral.

"John, I love you too! I love you, John, please come back!" Paul dropped to his knees, fisting the grass in his hands.

People looked down at Paul, concern evident on their faces. Ringo crouched next to him, rubbing his back. "Hey, you've got to get up, son. C'mon, let's get away from here for a bit."

Paul was quiet as Ringo lead him past the gravestones, onto an empty patch of field.

"Mick's right. John didn't do this on purpose." Ringo broke the silence, looking up at the sky.

"I hope you're right. I've felt horrible since I found out."

Ringo sighed, figuring out what happened through the news must have been worst than a phone call. "Are you going to be alright?"

"Dunno." Paul shrugged. "I'm dropping out of school. I'll probably leave Mick afterwards, too."

"Good, that guy is more trouble than he's worth."

"Oh, don't I know it." Paul laughed bitterly.

Ringo patted his pockets and pulled out his carton of cigarettes. "I talked to him before his accident. He was upset about what happened between the two of you."

"It wasn't my choice to leave, you know. If I knew this would've happened..." Paul trailed off, kicking the grass.

Ringo opened the carton, pinching a cig between his fingers. "Well, you didn't. Mick might be trouble, but clinging onto what you could've done differently is catastrophic." Letting John leave was the worst thing he's done, and it was his cross to bare, not Paul's.

Paul watched Ringo light up his cigarette. "Kinda hard not to think about it, y'know. It was a pretty gruesome accident."

"I heard he died quickly, if that's any consolation." Ringo mumbled around the cig, exhaling the smoke through his nose.

Paul frowned, crossing his arms. "Not really. He still died before I got a chance to say sorry."

Ringo took a drag of his cigarette. "Did you ever love him? Like, for real?" He asked.

"I guess I liked him, a lot."

"I don't blame you for not loving him, but you didn't have to string him along." Ringo sighed, rolling the cig around his fingers. John had been used, and Ringo couldn't understand why he let it happen.

Paul furrowed his brows. "I didn't string him along, he wouldn't heed my advice. I told him I could never love him."

"It's good that he's gone, then. John would've spent his whole life tryin' to win you over."

Paul scoffed. "Whatever. Have a good life, I guess. Tell Mick tha' I stole money from his wallet to take a cab."

Ringo raised his eyebrow. "Alright. Goodbye, Paul. Don't waste your life away, son."

"I'm a lowlife, mate. My life's already wasted." Paul deadpanned and walked away before Ringo could say something.

Ringo decided to ditch the funeral too, not wanting to tell Mick what Paul had. Even though he should've stayed and offered support to Cynthia, he realized that being a shoulder to cry on was the last thing John had. Ringo didn't want anyone else to die because of his stupid assurance.

"God save us all." He muttered, tossing the cigarette to the ground and never looking back.