You Really Got a Hold On Me

Chapter Twenty

 The following morning, George had indeed woken up with a terrible headache, his heart pounding loudly in his chest. He had a terrible hangover from the drugs he’d previously used, regretting them just as much as Paul said he would. That morning he had been absolutely bitter to Ringo, snapping at every little word the drummer said to him. George really couldn’t help it too much; the combination of a brutal hangover with his fun for Ringo now being put to a sudden end had made him feel absolutely terrible.

  Since George felt so horrible, he couldn’t help but take it all out on everyone. He was the quiet Beatle, which meant he didn’t speak too much in general, but when he spoke, his words were filled with anger and hate. Even Paul and John noticed the change in the younger lad’s attitude, avoiding his drug-filled rampages as much as possible. George smoked and drank much more than he should, and it was really taking a toll on him. His overall mood was absolutely terrible, and nobody wanted to be around him.

  Ringo was doing his best to manage, immediately regretting his self harm over George as soon as he had done it. He regretted giving up George, and he wanted him back so badly that his heart and chest literally heart when he saw him. He noticed George was doing his best to avoid him, and, Ringo couldn’t blame him. He had been an ass to the younger lad, and Ringo felt he absolutely deserved how George was treating him. And sadly, he was pretty sure George didn’t even remember saving his life.

  March 1966

  Paul groaned, rolling out of his bed and scratching his head. He accidentally nudged John as he got up and stretched out.

  “Good morning,” John smiled and looked up at him, still in his bed and under the covers comfortably.

  “Morning,” Paul muttered, smiling back at John sweetly. He really enjoyed John’s company, especially when he was being sweet like this. It made Paul realize that John was human, and that he was a caring, loving man like Paul wanted him to be.

  “Want a cuppa?” Paul asked, looking at John and raising an eyebrow while awaiting his response.

  “That’s be fantastic, luv,” John replied, still smiling sweetly. He sank back into the covers, closing his eyes and resting his head on his pillow.

  Paul walked into the kitchen area of his hotel room. He had been in hotel rooms constantly for years now, and he was absolutely sick of it. Maybe it was time they stop touring. He knew everyone else in the band would agree, and even Mal and Neil would agree that they were becoming rather restless from constantly touring. Besides, you couldn’t even hear yourself play over those bloody birds screaming... It would be an absolutely perfect decision for everyone if they stopped touring. But it would hurt Brian so much, he really loved when they performed...

  Whatever, Paul thought, shaking his head and reaching for a mug to make some coffee. Maybe he’d understand. I know he’ll be really hurt of we stop touring though, that’s his favorite part of being our manager. I’m sure he’ll understand eventually. All bands stop touring eventually, it’s not like we’re breaking up or anything...

  But in his mind, Paul pushed back those thoughts, focusing on making John his coffee instead of thinking about the future. Paul knew that the Beatles were slowly drifting apart. He didn’t want to admit it, not even to himself, but everyone knew it. You could even see in Brian’s eyes that he felt the same way.

  Paul walked back to John, bringing him his coffee. He handed it to John, forcing out a weak smile as he did so.

  “What’s wrong, luv?” John asked, sitting up and grabbing the coffee from Paul. He patted a seat next to him on the bed for Paul, and Paul reluctantly sat down next to him.