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In the midst of unbearable screams, and practically inaudible sets, the boys were coming close to their final numbers of their concert, hoping to play out and finally take a rest. The four were completely exhausted from the day, and this particular American crowd was not making it easy on them. Non stop we’re their screams. Paul’s attempts to hush them were futile in the face of thousands of teenage girls. Completely setting the building in a whirlwind of high pitched unrelenting chaos.
It shouldn’t surprised any of the Fab Four that someone would have eventually stormed on the stage.
What the boys weren’t prepared for was for two to storm the stage. Quite successfully in fact.
It all seemed to have happened out of nowhere. Two girls managed not only to evade Mal, and the rest of security, but they practically set the whole room off the rails.
George had first caught notice of it when Paul had stopped singing right in the middle of the next number. Turning over, he saw Paul struggling with a girl who clutched his waist in her arms from behind. Eventually, shifting around to tug at his sleeve, and splitting the seams of his suit. Paul was attempted to shake her off, but he couldn’t really take her grip off, or shove her. The press would have a field day if he “attacked” her so rudely like that.
George felt immediately defensive, but when he caught sight of John throwing his guitar to the ground he knew something was quickly about to go amiss. Press or no press, John wouldn’t stand for this bullshit. Especially when the gal took ahold of Paul’s cheeks, and planted a fervent kiss on his lips. John had officially lost it.
“Let him go- Piss off!” John ran off to Paul’s side practically fuming. Shouting over the girl’s screams as they refused to let go despite John’s attempts to pull her off Paul.
The more they tried, the more the girl resisted. She was practically tearing him apart.
George was about to butt in, and give John some help when he heard a crash of one of Ringo's symbols. The second girl, had now tackled Ringo to the ground, and off his drum pedestal.
George quickly sprinted to Ringo, absolutely horrified when he beared witness to his bandmate face down on the floor with a girl holding a pair of scissors at his head, George quickly pulled the girl up, and off his drummer. She struggled a lot, but Geo had an ironclad grip.
Things started to move so fast George could barely keep track of what was happening as the girl kicked and screamed at who he could only assumed was her friend.
“I’ve got some! I’ve got it!”
Geo tried relentlessly to find any security coming from the wings of the stage, but all he could see as he turned about was John, who had finally pulled off the lady practically clawing, and groping at Paul.
The situation was completely out of hand, and after all this havoc, security finally came about to remove the girls from the stage.
Paul was left tattered. His suit was practically in pieces and shredded upon him with rips, and seams completely undone. Patch of his suit, and pants were all over the stage.
John took a hold of Paul’s shoulder, and nudged him off the stage to the back, not paying any kind to the audiences’ complaints. George helped up Ringo to his feet, and set a supporting arm around his shoulders and followed behind the other two Beatles.
Behind them, the crowd boo’d the early departure.
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“What in fuckin” hell was that?” John was furious, absolutely off his rocker with anger. The boys had managed to get back to the hotel, and immediately entered into Brian's suite, and John was raising hell.
Brian was just as worried when he had heard from Mal what had happened. On this particular occasion Brian had opted to get some planing done for the next branch of the tour, so he had decided to sit out of this concert. Mal informed him on the phone after the incident that the girls had snuck past the security team, and he himself had stepped away for the moment. The girls apparently had a bet on who could get the most off a Beatle at one go of the stage.
Dozens of other girls attempted to follow the other two, so the team was delayed in attempt to holding the horde back. Mal had forewarned Brain that the boys would be upset, but he had failed to prepare him for just how wrathful John would be.
“John, I know you’re upset.”
“UPSET? Do I look upset Brain, because I sure feel fucking furious!” John seethed into the hushed room. Behind him Paul, George, and Ringo stood with almost sympathetic, but stricken faces.
Brain stood up abruptly, and looked John in the eye. He did as he always did, and collected himself gracefully and calmly. His indignant demeanor to the situation gone, he looked at the four boys with the utmost concern and respect. Brian felt like he had failed them, his boys. He gave them this life, and they had to live on with its pleasantries... and it faults. Regardless of how they balanced, Brain knew they were his responsibility.
“I know you are John. This shouldn’t have happened. You felt in danger, and I understand that-” Brain wasn’t given opportunity to get another word out from there. John was already back at it, unable to keep it in any longer.
“Understand? Sod off! The only damn thing you understand is how much money we’re makin’ you Epstein!” Paul came as quick as he could behind John, and held his arm. He tightly pulled John back a tad, in order to diffuse as much of the situation he could.
“John, you need to calm down.” Paul chided while being met with John’s piercing glare.
“Calm down huh? Why don’t you go take a good look in the mirror Paulie, then tell me to calm down.” John wasn’t nearly as loud now, but no less ruthless. Paul, looked taken aback, hurt too. Looking down Paul’s clothes was still wretched and torn from the incident.
“How about poor Ringo too then! Lad might have a concussion for all we know with that shiner on his-”
“That’s enough John. Let’s just go.” George wasn’t having anymore of this. John made his point, and things were getting too heated.
“Don’t George- I’m sure he’s just getting started.” Paul spat. Before anyone could respond Paul was already turning to the door, and leaving it to slam shut behind him.
George gave John a knowing look. He screwed up. It was one thing for John to yell at Brain, he hadn’t been there, but Paul was a victim, if not more. He was shaken up, and John unintentionally preyed on his current state of vulnerability. That wasn’t right of him even if he hadn’t meant it.
Without another word, John followed suit out Brain’s door. Chasing after Paul.
Geo gave Brain a reassuring nod as Ringo opened up the door. It didn’t say much, but at least it implied that things would be better. The four of them had quite a night, and what they needed most right now was each other.
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The four shared a conjoined suite of two rooms, each prepped with two twin beds. Paul had quickly entered into the nearest one from the hall, his and John’s.. He might just have to crash for the night with George and Ringo, unsure if he could handle another outburst from John for the night.
Paul hurriedly stepped into the bathroom. He turned on the sink and cupped his hands below the spout, roughly splashing his face with cold water. He felt flushed, and very light headed, which only added to how disconnected he felt to his surroundings. He blinked a few times letting his eye come to focus on the mirror. He now saw just how roughed up he was. Tired eyes on a filthy torn stage suit. He could almost feel it again. The way he was grabbed about like that. How harshly the girl had pulled his clothes apart. Like he was some kind of souvenir…
He felt tears brim up in his eyes again. He felt like a toy- a thing, not much but something to take and exploit and use, Paul could remember how she forced that unsuspecting kiss on him. That’s what they were, pretty little things to take and grab-
He felt a hand touch his side, and suddenly, with a jump he trashed in panic as those subconscious hands started to feel all too real again. Paul’s legs went weak, and he lost his footing on the tile. He stumbled backwards only to be caught into two arms. John’s arms .
“Hey, hey- Paul! Hush now, it’s me.” Paul pulled away, eyes shot open. He was shaking, after all that he couldn’t bring himself to relax. The tears on his clothes were all he could see.
Paul blinked, tears now rolling down his pink cheeks. Without thinking he stepped up to John, and rested his head onto his shoulder, arms holding him close. John quickly hugged back, and stroked the bassist’s hair soothingly.
“I’m here Paul. Right here...”
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Ringo hadn’t spoken a word since it happened. He doe eyes were downcast even now when Geo and him entered their room. George let out a deep exhale, and noticed Ringo rummaging through his luggage for his pajamas.
After all of the yelling and frustration George finally felt he could register where he was, and what had happened. Then George saw it. He had been so focused on trying to keep a close eye on John since the car ride, he hadn’t even checked on Ringo’s condition. Specifically, the purplish bruise he sported on the left of his face.
“Ritchie? Your cheek-” George rushed over the bed and was standing beside him now. Ringo was clutching his pajamas in his hands but wouldn’t look up at him. Clearly trying to shake it off as nothing. But Ringo could feel how his body ached from the fall, and how isolated the ride to the hotel had been. The yelling and fighting. Ringo hated it, and he was already so overwhelmed from the girls. He needed someone to ask if he was alright, he needed something .
For a few seconds Ringo tensed up, and his fingers gripped at his robe, and he finally spoke up.
“I’m-” But George wasn’t there anymore, he disappeared or wandered off, and Ringo stood with his mouth agape. He was alone again. The whole of it winded him. Ringo’s lip started to tremble, as the throbbing of his cheek grew persistent. He hadn’t expected to be so scared, but evidently the initial shock was wearing off, and the reality of it was setting it. Being thrown on the ground like that- the screaming, the grabbing, he was all alone down there. Except for when...
“George?” Ringo opened up his eyes. It was barely a whisper, his mouth having gone dry. His downcast head was lifted up, and George was right there in front of him. Holding up a wet cloth, he leaned forward to Ringo’s face and pressed it gently to the side letting the cool water take some of the pain. Ringo let out a small whimper at the pressure, and George let up and caressed Ringo’s other unaffected cheek reassuringly.
“I’m sorry… I know it hurts.”
George continued to dab lightly at the purple mark, and occasionally at some stray tears from Ringo’s eyes that slipped out. He felt immense guilt not having seen the girl coming for the drummer before she could cause such damage. Even looking at him now he could see the significantly shorter lock of hair behind Ringo’s ear.
The girl was right, she must have got some with those scissors. George furrowed his brows.
“I should’ve been there.” George stressed as he straightened his back, and looked down at his feet shamefaced.
“What are you talking about? You were there Geo.”
“Sooner. I should’ve gotten to you sooner.” George mumbled, refusing to meet Ringo’s gaze.
“Well… can you be here now?” Ringo croaked. His hands were wringing the belt of his robe, pleading blue eyes looking up at George with so much need for reassurance.
George conceded, and wrapped his arms around the drummer, giving him what they both needed so desperately after a day like this.
They broke the hug only briefly to change when they suddenly heard a knock on the door, and two mused heads peaked in.
John and Paul stood wavering by the entryway both changed in sleepwear as well, looking in need of what Geo and Ritchie required as well if any of the four were going to get through the night.
“Wanted to make sure you lot’ were, um… tucked in.” John said shifting rather awkwardly with Paul beside him.
The four could see just how rattled the others were. Even the protective John had really been disturbed by the ordeal. They all were put in compromising positions that none had expected. The pressure of the fans bearing down on them figuratively, and literally. It was all too much.
What they needed was the security they valued most. Each other. George quickly knew that, and wasn’t afraid to say it either.
“Fellas, it’s about time we all get tucked in don’t you think?”
With that nothing else was said. The two twin beds in the room were now pressed tightly beside each other, lights were cut out, sheets were drawn. It was almost muscle memory for times like this. It wasn’t rare, it wasn’t strange. When the fame, the fans, the stress- when it all came down on them. This was what they had left.
They piled in under the covers. Along the way John felt Ringo take his hand, and give it a tender squeeze.
We’re all here now.
George curled with Ringo’s head on his chest. Paul snuggled beside him just as close and unabashed with John contributing to the tangle of limbs under their covers as he rested his head beside Paul’s neck. They all nuzzled close together.
Each of them knew fully well that without this, sleep would have been a lost cause. It was something about being with those you want to protect and be protected by that allowed them to relax. They could let their barriers go, and just be held.
Smiling at the tickle of toes, and of heads buried into neighboring shoulders. Hands occasionally soothing the other’s hair, lips meeting foreheads. It was shameless. It was tender. It was protection.
It was the Beatles.