I'll Cry Instead

Chapter 13

Racing to the kitchen, they were all hoping one thing: that there wouldn't be a bloody mess awaiting them, John in the floor with a hand severed or something along those tragic lines.

That being said, when they did make it to the kitchen, they were quite relieved to see that that wasn't the case.

There was John, stooped on the floor and picking up the sharp, shattered remains of what once was a teacup.

"John," Brian exhaled (he hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath since they'd heard the noise). "Let me help you."

"No, Brian. I don't need your help. You only cause all of our problems anyhow," John bickered as he tried not to wince at the jagged edge of glass that punctured his finger as he spoke.

Brian gave him a sympathetic frown before wetting a paper towel and handing it to him in order to stop the blood flow. John took it reluctantly seeing that is was from Brian, but, deep down, he was really thankful for it, considering he didn't want his good pants to be stained with blood.

"Look, John, and you lads too," he added as he made eye contact with Ringo and George, who were standing quietly throughout the whole scene, "you must understand that I'm doing this not only for your good, but for Paul's good especially."

"How the heck are ya..." John started, but Ringo shushed him. John rolled his eyes.

"Look, the other day when Paul left breakfast after he'd doubled over and such, I found him crying in his room. I asked him why he was crying and he told me it was because he didn't feel like himself. Now, at the time, he wasn't well enough to feel like himself, but, now that he is, he can feel like himself by performing again. Do you see what I mean? I think this will help him, not make him worse."

At first, no one said anything. They just sat, mulling over Brian's words of explanation. They had to admit, it did make sense now that Brian had said it, but they were still a little uncertain that it wouldn't backfire.

"Well," Ringo chimed in, "I think it does make sense, and it's very thoughtful of you to think of him, Brian, but how do we know he's better mentally? I mean, do you think there's a possibility of this coming back to bite us?"

"Well, Ringo, I suppose there's always a chance of that happening, but Paul's a good lad and he wouldn't let us down easily. He'll come through," Brian smiled, a bit forcibly.

"But will he?" John returned, this time seeming nothing but worried.

"I believe so, John. I truly do."

There was another long pause of awkward silence as each Beatle thought over everything. Finally, someone spoke, and, surprisingly enough, it was John.

"Well, alright, then. I trust you," he said with a nod of his auburn head, much to the surprise of the others (Ringo's eyes were as wide as saucers at the remark!). "Suppose I can breathe the same air as you now," he then quipped with a smirk as he threw away the pieces of glass.

"I'm glad you're not mad anymore," Brian smiled with a pat to John's shoulder.

"Who said I wasn't mad?" was his sarcastic reply.

=======================

"Phew, what a long day it's been," Ringo groaned to himself as he climbed into bed. "Sleeping well over there, Paulie?" he then added before turning off the lamp.