I'll Cry Instead

Chapter 35

It sounded like a jet plane. The shrieks and screams were completely ear-piercing, and the four Beatles could barely hear anything as they waited backstage.

Paul's stomach was turning somersaults. Combine that with the headache he was beginning to acquire from all of the noise and you'd understand why he was beginning to panic.

This was it. The moment he'd been worried about since he'd gotten hurt. Honestly, he didn't know if his mind would be able to handle seeing all of the fans since the last time he'd seen them, well you know that long story already. No need to rehash it.

"Here they are, folks!" boomed into everyone's ears before more screams erupted.

"This is it, lads," John mumbled enthusiastically with a smile, which sent a nervous leap of energy to bounce around in Paul's stomach. It sounded so official hearing it come out of John's mouth.

"Here they are! The Beatles!"

Before Paul knew it, his wobbly legs were sending him onto the stage where the spotlights nearly blinded him, the heat from them already seeming to cook his face and ears.

"Good evening!" John shouted out to the crowd after he'd stepped up to his microphone, which caused the crowd to go even wilder.

Already knowing that he wouldn't be able to say anything else, John gave a nod to Paul, George, and Ringo, which signaled them to begin the show.

Seconds later, John had begun to sing You Can't Do That. Paul's fingers were sweaty as they swept across the fretboard of his bass, and it was taking everything in him to not look at the girls' faces and see the memories of that awful day.

Knowing that his harmony part was coming up, Paul swallowed thickly as he and George huddled close to their microphone.

Anxiety shredded through Paul's body whilst sweat poured down his cheeks and neck.

"Just sing," he told himself. "You've done this millions of times. This time is no different."

"Because I've told you before, oh you can't do that," John sang before he looked over to Paul, just to make sure he was okay. Paul nodded, which reassured John that he was ready for his upcoming vocal.

As soon as Paul and George's vocal came up, Paul closed his eyes and sang into the mic. His mind oddly enough went silent with a strange sense of tranquility and peacefulness, and his arms and legs were tingling from both nerves and something else he hadn't felt in a long time.

He was actually having fun.

Did he expect to? No, he most certainly didn't. But he was nonetheless.

"But if they'd seen," he and George sang again, a huge grin beginning to plaster Paul's face, which George was quite happy about.

"You're talking that way, they'd laugh in my face," John sang as he finished the verse.

The entire concert seemed to go that way. Paul couldn't stop smiling, for he'd realized that he could perform, and that he could see the fans in a way other than savage animals.

He was being a Beatle again, and he couldn't have been any happier.

After all of the nightmares and illnesses, he was back to his old self, singing and bopping around on the big stage. He felt great—better than he had in a long time.

After all of the fights he had had with his mates, he was back together with them, and he was having a blast while he was at it. He loved them so much, and he made a vow right then and there that he would never leave them or Brian. He would be a Beatle for as long as he was needed. Period.