15 November 1962.
PAUL: I don’t know if I should go check on George or not. I know today was the day that Delilah was supposed to leave and go back to New York, and I have no idea if George is handling it all right or not. I don’t want to get involved in his personal business, but as his bandmate and friend, I think I do have the right to see if he’s okay today. I reached for the phone and dialed his number, hoping he would answer so I could talk to him for a bit.
No answer. I sighed and hung up the phone. I decided I could go down to his apartment. It wouldn’t take but ten minutes to drive there. I went into the bedroom to retrieve my coat and car keys. Allie was still asleep, as she had woken up earlier complaining of a bad headache. I leaned down and kissed her forehead, and she opened her eyes. “Going somewhere?” she asked softly.
“To check on George,” I said. “I won’t be long. Do you feel any better?”
She shook her head. “Not much,” she replied. “When you get back, will you come lay down with me for awhile?”
“Of course,” I answered. I kissed her cheek and smiled. “I’ll be an hour or so, all right?”
Allie nodded. “I’ll sleep,” she said. “Go make sure George is okay. I know he’s hurting far more than I am right now.”
I rubbed her shoulder. She had such a beautiful heart, always more worried about those around her than her own self. “I’ll be back soon, baby,” I said quietly. I kissed her one more time and turned to leave. “Love you.”
“Love you too, Paul,” she said, pulling the covers up over her head. I shut the bedroom door softly and left the apartment, locking the front door behind me. I walked downstairs and pushed open the main door to my building, harsh November winds slapping me in the face as soon as I stepped outside. I pulled my coat tighter around myself and hurried to my car, slamming the door as soon as I was inside. I turned on the ignition and cranked up the heat as high as I could make it go. I hated this time of year, when the world turned grey and windy and bitter. It was so sad… and depressing.
I made it to George’s in around fifteen minutes. I got out of the car and entered his apartment building, walking to the elevator and pushing the “Up” button to take me to his floor, number 3. I stood outside his door for a long moment, hesitant to knock. I took a deep breath and knocked on his door, hoping someone would answer. I heard footsteps and then the door swung open. “Oh, hello, Paul,” George said quietly. His eyes were red, and I realized that I had never seen him this upset before.
“Hello, George,” I said. “May I come in?”
“Sure,” he said, holding open the door wider. I stepped in and took off my overcoat, hanging on the coat tree just inside the door. “Is it just you?” I asked. The apartment seemed too quiet.
He nodded. “My parents are in London for the week visiting Mum’s sister. It’s just me.”
I nodded. “Mind if I talk to you for a bit?”
“I was actually going to call you if you hadn’t come over,” George said, sinking down on the couch. “I was debating which of the three of you I wanted to talk to, and I figured you would be the best choice. John’s a bit too abrasive sometimes and Ringo, try as he might, just really doesn’t help much when things aren’t going so well. You know how to help people in situations like this.”
“I’m flattered, George.”
“You’re like a brother to me, you know? I trust you the most out of our group.” George sighed and closed his eyes. “I don’t even know where to start…”
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No More Lonely Nights - A Fan FictionFanfiction
1962. Liverpool, England. Rock and roll music is on the horizon, and in an intimate blues club in the heart of Merseyside, a foursome by the name of the Beatles is about to emerge as the greatest music phenomenon the world has ever seen. American te...