I'll Cry Instead

Chapter 8

Slowly, he drifted back into consciousness. The first thing he noticed was that his head hurt, but that wasn't his concern now. His concern was where in the blazes he was. He couldn't quite remember...

Maybe if he opened his eyes all of his answers would be answered. Yes, that's what he needed to do. Open his eyes and let the truth be revealed.

"But living is easy with eyes closed," he mused. "That's what John always says."

Inching his heavy eyelids apart, he instantly winced at the brightness of the room. He groaned as the first thing his eyes met revealed itself to be the discoloration of the ceiling. Then he remembered where he was. He was hoping everything had been a dream, but he remembered where he was, unfortunately enough.

"Explains the headache."

Turning his head as well as he could, he noticed a huddle of familiar bodies standing by the window.

"Is it? I hope!"

"Lads?" he croaked, surprised at the raspiness of his own voice.

As soon as he'd spoken, the three faces he'd longed to see most turned to meet his gaze.

"Paul!" George cried, looking as excited as a child on Christmas morning. "You're awake!"

"Hey, Geo!" Paul smiled as George attempted to hug him.

"We were so worried! They finished fixing you up, but you were conked out and we were afraid you'd never wake up! You've been dozing for four hours!" Ringo explained as he ruffled what he could of Paul's mop top (a lot of his hair was covered in bandages).

"Sorry," Paul muttered with a smile playing on his dry lips.

"You ought to be, ya bugger! Had us actin' all sappy for a bit!" John replied gruffly with a soft slap to Paul's shoulder.

"John Lennon? Sappy? Nah, I don't believe it," Paul smirked as he tried to sit up, although he only succeeded in hurting his sore chest. "Ow," he then sighed.

"Easy, Macca. The doc said you had three broken ribs," John said as he eased Paul back.

"Is that all?" Paul grumbled sourly with a roll of his bloodshot eyes.

"No, actually," John smirked satirically as he put on a doctor's accent. "You've also got a concussion and various cuts and abrasions. And you've got a few clunks of hair missing, but that's not a big deal at all," he added with a sarcastic shrug.

"Gee thanks, Lenny. I already feel ten times better," Paul replied with a cold smile. A smile that, as Ringo had noticed, was not very characteristic of Paul. But, he let it be. After all, the lad must be tired.

"Good, I'm glad," John grinned as he tried his absolute best not to let his worried emotions show.

"How much longer until I get outta here?" the bassist then sighed as he looked at the overhead clock, which read 9:09 PM.

"Umm, the doctor said you'd be free to go in a couple days. Just to make sure your head is alright," Ringo said as he exchanged a glance with George.

"Gear," Paul answered gloomily as he bit at his finger absentmindedly.

"Isn't it, though?" John piped up. "We get the hotel to ourselves for two whole days! No fussy McCartney to ruin our fun!" he continued as he began to mimic Paul. "Don't put your dirty clothes on the sink! Don't forget to brush your teeth! Don't watch Telly after 1! It'll be bliss, lads!" John finished as he made eye contact with Ringo and George, who were doubling over with laughter.

"Haha, John," Paul replied sarcastically as he furrowed his brow, the other three now roaring with laughter.

"I didn't think of that, Lenny!" George guffawed. "You're right, though!"

"I know I am!"

"I don't sound like that, either," Paul then interrupted as he felt himself growing more and more irritated with the noise and the pain.

"Oh, but you do, son!" John giggled as he began to mimic Paul some more.

Ringo and George were practically enthralled with the 'accuracy' of John's impersonation, but Paul simply wasn't having it. Well, he was having it, but now he was having enough of it.

"Lads, please!" he spoke up, annoyance obvious in his tone as he felt his head pulsate and ache. "Must you all be so loud?"

"Oh, sorry, Paul," Ringo instantly apologized, his face turning from silly to guilty. "We weren't thinking."

"Yeah, sorry about that, mate," John said as he scratched the back of his neck, a blush creeping its way onto his face.

"It's fine, it's just..." Paul stopped, feeling as if his head was about to burst.

He winced involuntarily and held up a hand, trying his best not to see stars.

"Paul? Are you alright?" George asked cautiously as he walked towards him.

"Yeah, just, tired is all," the bassist responded, his eyes drooping as he said the words.

"That's understandable," Ringo said with a warm smile as he patted Paul's shoulder. "Just sleep. We'll be here when you wake up."

"Ta, Rings, but you lads don't have to stay. Go to the hotel and sleep. You've got beds there," Paul replied with a yawn.

"Are you sure, Paulie? We don't mind," George asked while taking in a shaky breath.

"I'm sure," Paul winked as he allowed his drowsiness to take over. "Night," he whispered as he closed his eyes.

"Goodnight, Paul," they replied as they watched him drift to sleep. A few minutes later, their bassist was out cold.

John was the first to speak up.

"Do you really think he'll be alright on his own?" he said, his eyes never leaving his sleeping friend.

"He said he would be," George answered. "But, then again, you never know with Paul."

"You're right," John gulped as he fiddled with his famous cap.

"I say we go back to the hotel. Paul was right. We've got beds there and there's really nothing we can do for him here," Ringo reasoned, trying to sound casual.

"You think so? After all he's been through?" John questioned, his gaze finally leaving Paul and resting on the drummer.

"There's nothing we can do, John. Besides, it looks like he's gonna sleep through the night anyway, as exhausted as he is."

At Ringo's last statement, John and George both turned towards Paul, as if making sure he looked deeply asleep enough to be left. Seeing that he did, they turned back towards Ringo and exhaled.

"Alright, Rings, I think you're right. Let's go back to the hotel," John said as he stared at his boots.

"I really do think he'll be okay, lads," Ringo reassured them as they got their coats and said their goodbyes to Paul, who obviously didn't respond.

"Yeah, I'm sure he will be," George replied with a forced smile as he took one last look at the sleeping Paul McCartney before heading out of the door. "I'm sure."