I'll Cry Instead

Chapter 18

After Ringo had explained his little tale to George, the three of them had decided to get to bed, only because of the impending press conference the next day.

George had been gracious toward the drummer, responding with only a nod or so as he spoke. He never acted upset or exasperated with the oldest man and he never seemed to judge him for his mistake. He simply listened and that's what Ringo needed him to do. Listen.

Ringo had been most thankful for George's grace, even though he knew that it wasn't George's grace he really needed—it was Paul's. What he really needed was for Paul to forgive him and hopefully understand why he had done what he had done.

"Perhaps tomorrow he'll listen to me. Perhaps," he had thought as he'd gotten into bed.

The poor drummer's wishes unfortunately hadn't come to pass the next day, though.

Paul hadn't said a word to anyone during breakfast and it hadn't seemed like he was planning on doing so anytime soon. He hadn't eaten either, only shoved his plate away like it was the plague.

Brian had noticed that his boys were acting very strange and had asked them what the matter was.

"Nothing's the matter," George had lied with a forced smile, not at all wanting to go into everything.

Brian had then nodded with an unconvinced purse of his lips before he'd excused himself in order to get ready for the press conference, to which he told the lads to do the same.

Now, the four Beatles were once again in the living room, sitting in complete and utter silence. Beautiful snow flakes were falling gracefully outside the windows and it reminded Ringo of the supposed blizzard that was expected to occur.

"I wonder if it'll be a big storm," he attempted at small talk as he grinned sheepishly, deliberately eyeing Paul, who had his legs pulled up to his chest while his arms wrapped themselves around them, his face blank and most likely occupied in a daydream.

No one responded, which caused more awkward and tense silence to descend upon the anxious band.

Ding! Ding!

The clock had struck 3:00 PM, which meant only two hours before the press conference began.

Ringo wanted so badly to clear things up with Paul before they left, but it seemed almost impossible to do so, what with Paul seeming so distant and his complete and atrocious silence. But, he knew he needed to fix things. After all, Paul was his best mate and there was no reason for them to be at odds during their first press conference in a long time. So, he swallowed his pride and gingerly made his way over to the frail bassist, praying to God that Paul would actually listen to him.

John and George had frozen in place as they watched Ringo walk over to Paul. They couldn't believe he was already going to talk to him, especially since Paul was giving him the cold shoulder. They gritted their teeth in apprehension for the poor drummer as they tried to act casual.

Finally, after what seemed like a mile walk across the room, Ringo reached the young Paul, who acted as if he didn't even realize Ringo was there.

Ringo swallowed thickly before he spoke, trying to seem calm, although he was extremely nervous.

"Paul?" he said.

Paul didn't flinch, other than his hand moving up to his face as he began to bite at his fingernail.

Ringo was going to tell him that he shouldn't do that, due to germs and such, but he decided that saying such a thing probably wasn't appropriate at the minute—Paul was already mad at him. So, he decided upon something a bit more cordial.