I'll Cry Instead

Chapter 11

Ringo awoke to sunlight streaming in through the hotel window. Rubbing his bleary eyes, he sat up and took a glance at Paul, who was still sleeping soundly in the other bed. He looked peaceful, as Ringo observed, and the drummer oddly enough began to feel bad about the impending wake up the bassist would receive.

Shaking his foggy thoughts away, he perked his ears up, for he heard the room door creaking opened.

It was Brian.

"Morning, lads," the older man whispered as he stuck his head in.

"Morning, Brian," Ringo whispered back with a sweet smile.

"I just wanted to let you know that breakfast is ready. We've had it delivered to John and George's room since they were already awake," he explained as he looked from Paul to Ringo, as if hoping that Ringo would offer to wake the younger man up.

"Okay, thanks. I'll get Paul up, then," Ringo assured him as he put his housecoat on.

Brian couldn't suppress a thankful smile.

"Splendid. I'll pour the tea."

"Ta, Brian. We'll be there in a moment."

With that being said, the oldest Beatle made his way over to Paul, who had unconsciously turned away from the morning light. He began to shake his shoulders, which caused Paul to moan in annoyance. Eventually, though, he got the lad to crack his doe eyes opened.

"Morning, Paul," Ringo grinned as he amused himself by staring at Paul's messy hair and tired eyes.

"Morning, Rings. Why did you wake me up so early?" he asked, his voice raspy.

At that Ringo couldn't help but chuckle.

"It's 11:00 AM, Paul!"

"Well, it doesn't feel like it," the bassist muttered irritatedly as he rubbed his head.

"Really I woke you up because Brian came in and said breakie was ready. Put on your housecoat and we'll go on over there," Ringo explained as he handed Paul the article of clothing.

"But I'm not hun..." Paul started but was stopped by Ringo's finger at his mouth.

"No buts. You need to eat."

Paul simply groaned in response, due to the disgust he felt towards food or the pain in his head and chest wasn't clear.

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

Ten minutes had passed at the breakfast table. George was practically devouring his plate of eggs and bacon while Brian sat drinking his tea in a daze. John and Ringo weren't speaking to each other, due to the previous night's little argument, which left an awkward tension to occupy the silence that would occur when George or Brian weren't talking. And Paul, having decided that he wasn't going to eat, (much to Ringo's annoyance, although he couldn't say anything to the bassist for fear of John harping on him again) had taken his small transistor radio and inserted his headphones into it. He just sat there, numbly listening to whatever music happened to play.

It wasn't a very digestible meal whatsoever, for everyone knew the tension was undeniable. Still, they tried to act naturally.

"So, what do you lads want to do?" George asked them innocently as he wiped a few bread crumbs from his mouth.

There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment until John spoke up for the first time that morning.

"How about we dress Paulie up in a bib and give him a paci that way Ringo can take care of him like the mother he so obviously is?" he suggested, malicious sarcasm thick in his tone. "It'd be so cute to watch! Ritchie could rock him to sleep and read him stories! What'd ya say?" he finished as he eyed the drummer evilly.

George and Brian were floored at John's choice of cruel words. So much so, they were at a loss for words themselves. Paul, still listening to his music, hadn't heard any of it, but, upon seeing the others faces, had taken his headphones off and glanced at each man with an inquisitive expression.

"What's up?" he asked no one in particular, his milk-colored face visibly bothered at their strained profiles.

Silence. Thick, excruciating, unbearable silence.

"Well?" Paul pressed, his usually bright eyes turning a dark color of vexation.

Finally, someone, being George, answered.

"We were just disagreeing on which football team to root for," he explained, a nervous shake almost obvious in his voice. "Everton or Liverpool, y'know?" he added with an apprehensive chuckle.

"Right," Paul replied absentmindedly as he observed the hurt features on Ringo's face and the satisfied look on John's face that he couldn't quite place. "Well, have fun with that, then," he added as he got up from the table, his plate still full of food. "I'm gonna go back to our room."

"Are you sure, Paul? You didn't eat a bite," Brian asked him with a concerned glitter in his eyes. Inside, Ringo was rejoicing, for someone else had said exactly what he was thinking for once in his life.

"I'm fine, Brian, thank you. I just want to be alone," the frail lad answered as he walked to the door, suddenly doubling over as a sharp pain shot through his chest. He couldn't help but wince.

"Alright, Paulie?" George inquired worriedly as he jumped up from the table and over to the bassist, the others perfectly mirroring his actions.

Paul didn't respond, just held onto his chest as if something were going to burst through it at any second.

"Macca!" John gasped as he put a gentle hand to Paul's back.

"Who's the mum, now?" Ringo managed to scoff internally, although he instantly chided himself for it, especially since his mate was looking as if he was going to keel over.

"F-fine," the ailing member breathed as he tried to stand up straight.

"Easy, Paul. You're still hurt," Brian attempted to sooth him as he as held onto Paul's shoulder.

"Ta, Eppy, but I think I've had enough of it," Paul spat, very uncharacteristically. So uncharacteristically that Brian had to take a step back in disbelief and, oddly enough, fear. "Just let me alone for a while," Paul mumbled after another wince of pain as he slammed the door shut behind him, leaving the other men to gawk at his outburst.

"W-what's gotten into him?" George trembled as his eyes threatened tears.

"What's gotten into all of you?" Brian reprimanded as he glowered at Ringo and John, the latter in particular, before turning on his heel and disappearing through the same door Paul had.

After that, no one knew what to say. They just stood there staring at each other like a gang of idiots. Brian's words had hit too close to home and even John knew he had gone too far. But he wasn't going to admit that now. Of course not! He's the Great John Lennon! He'll just have to keep a watch on his tongue. Maybe then everyone will be normal around him. Maybe...

You can thank AlexisDyer7 for the photo at the top! She actually inspired me to write this chapter all because of the photo! Thanks, Alexis, and thank you all for reading! :-)