Eighty three

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The glass was half-empty. Ringo felt dizzy, eyesight blurring. He tried to blink, he tried to clear his vision. Everything was blurry shapes and colors.

"G-George?"

"Ritchie? Oh... You're still awake."

He had a tape recorder in his hands.

"W-What are you doing?"

"What am I doing? It's nothing, love." George  left the tape recorder down the floor and walked up to him, carrying him up to the couch. Ringo curled up against the couch, groaning as his head started to throb.

George pressed a kiss to his temple.

"I'll be back okay?"

"O-Okay." Ringo mumbled, eyes shutting tight. "I love you."

George smiled.

"Love you too."

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