Chapter Text
Paul McCartney sighed, rubbing the sides of his head.
He had a strong headache. He was feeling so tired.
And the loud wails coming from upstairs weren't helping him.
Suddenly, a loud bang and shouts could be heard.
"What's wrong?"
Paul looked up at Brian, who had just entered the room.
"I don't know" muttered Paul, without getting up from the sofa he was sitting on, his bass resting next to him.
Another loud bang could be heard and Brian quickly run upstairs to see what was going on.
Paul sighed once again.
Three months. It had been three months since his life, along with the lives of the other Beatles was changed.
He looked down at his right arm.
It was still held into a plaster. He reached up, touching his forehead and wincing at the sting it made, since he had 5 stitches put in his forehead.
He massaged the sore part, slowly making his way upstairs.
"Hey..." he softly said, entering a bedroom.
John, his best mate, was curled up on the floor in the corner of the room.
The younger man made his way towards him, crouching down in front of the figure and gently putted his hand on his shoulder, frowning as the older man jumped up scared.
Smashed a bit more further, a bedside lamp was broken on the floor.
"Oh, John" sighed softly Paul, grabbing his friend's hand, which was bleeding.
"I'm sorry, Paul" cried out John, looking up at his friend.
"Hey, don't apologize. It's alright" reassured Paul, cleaning the cut on John's palm.
The older man frowned, "No!" he quickly shouted, passing from pure, utter sadness to rage in a second. "Nothing is fine! I'm not myself anymore..." he ended in a sad whisper.
How true that was.
That wasn't Paul's best mate anymore.
That wasn't Beatle John Lennon, the smart Beatle, the one always ready to talk back to anyone.
The one never afraid of anyone, not even of people more important than him.
No.
Now, John was always trembling in fright, wincing at loud voices and shouts. Always getting angry, and then bursting into tears, loud wails and sobs shaking his thin frame.
He couldn't even play guitar anymore, not remembering even the basic chords.
But still, Paul and the others still cared a lot for him.
It was still their leader, their best friend, their brother, their John. Even if he wasn't alright.
John had suffered brain damage after a car accident.
It had been horrible.
Paul remembered the sound of the tires screeching on the asphalt, the shouts of fright of him and his mates.
The pain.
Luckily, he didn't have any permanent damage, aside from a broken arm, broken ribs and a cut on his forehead.
George, Ringo and Brian were lucky too.
John, however, wasn't as lucky.
"Hey, stop with the self blaming. Mimi's coming around soon" said gently Paul, hosting onto unstable feet the other one.
John stumbled a bit before getting his footing, face reddening with a blush.
"Who's coming? Mimi? When did she told you?" he asked confused.
"She told us two days ago that she was coming" explained patiently the bassist, taking a hold of John's hand and walking him to the bathroom.
Brian was there, softly smiling. "Do you need help to get dressed?" he softly said, grabbing the clothes he had previously putted on the closed toilet seat.
John blushed, before nodding, stepping closer to his manager and Paul took that as a cue to leave.
The bassist made his way downstairs, when the doorbell rung.
Mimi was there.
Though her face was set in the usual stone-cold expression, it was clear that she was really anxious.
"Hi, Paul" she greeted.
"Hi, Mimi" answered Paul, stepping back to let the woman enter inside.
"A cup of tea?"
"No, thank you. Where is John?"
"Oh, he's coming downstairs shortly..."
The room fell silent again.
George and Ringo weren't there, they were out for the day.
Paul had insisted to remain home, not because he fancied facing the terrible Mimi Smith again, but mostly to give comfort to his lost best friend.
Brian had stayed too.
Finally, the sound of someone coming down the stairs could be heard, along with a shushed voice talking, probably Brian reassuring the rhythm guitarist that Mimi wasn't angry with him.
When she had called, two days before, she was shouting madly at Paul and Brian to have hidden the well being of her nephew for three whole months.
Though she was shouting, Paul could had swore there were the sounds of sobs too.
She was crying. Probably afraid of John forgetting her.
In fact, once she had calmed down, she had asked Paul if John could remember her, and he had answered positively.
Yes, John did remember his aunt. And it was surprising to hear him wail out that he wanted her there with him, because she could made the bad thoughts go away.
He had sounded so much like a child, with his big, teary eyes and small, weak voice that the other three Beatles and Brian had all bunked up with him for the night, holding him tight.
John entered the room, looking the floor and not acknowledging his aunt, who had gotten up from the sofa.
"John..."
He seemed to have heard her, but his eyes, clouded with tears, were still looking down.
His hands were shaking and it was clear he was trying to control his emotions.
Brian and Paul gulped, not knowing if we was going to be able to repress them. It could rather be a burst of anger, or an ocean of tears.
They didn't know which one was better.
"Johnny, please, look at me" her tone was a pleading one, her eyes were brimming with tears as she made her way to her shaking nephew.
Just with a touch of her hand on his face, gently cupping his cheeks and pressing a kiss onto his forehead sent John into a hysteric fit.
"Auntie, auntie, auntie!" started crying the man, sounding like a broken record.
He throw himself at her, tightly gripping her with his skinny arms and Mimi, taken aback since she hadn't been hugged by him since he was a young child, kept still for a while.
She then gently returned the hug, holding him close.
"Shh, it's alright. Auntie's here, Johnny. I'm not going to leave you. I love you" she started saying, trying to reassure the wailing boy in her arms.
"I love you too" muttered John, still crying but a bit more calmly.
Mimi gently picked him up, groaning slightly under his weight, but managing to keep both of them up.
"Shh, it's alright" she said again, walking towards the sofa.
Paul smiled slightly, shuffling a bit to make more space for the two, before patting the spot next to him, "Johnny, do you want to sit next to me?"
John looked at him, before shyly shooking his head.
Mimi sat down, putting him on her lap gently and the man sighed happily, putting his head on her shoulder.
"Brain injuries are really messed up" he mumbled softly, eyes slowly closing, his energies drained by all the cries.
"They suck" agreed Mimi, kissing the top of his head, "Now, try to sleep, okay? I'll be there when you wake up"
"Promise?"
"Promise"
John seemed content with that, quickly falling asleep in her arms.
Only than, Mimi allowed the tears to roll down her cheeks, as she wept for her lost boy.
Paul got on his knees and prayed.
Prayed that everything was going to be just fine.