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It happened again. Again! John and George (the bastards!) were fighting yet again. Over you, nonetheless! And you were about to have enough of it! Really! It was like something out of a poorly written novel meant for tweens and. You. Had. Had. Enough. Yelling was ceaseless. Jumping in place, flinging your arms about, had stopped walking several fights ago. There was never a moment of peace. John gave you a compliment? George starts a fight. George helps you with something? John starts a fight. It was absolutely ridiculous!
You looked on at them, clenched fists in growing frustration and rage; their antics and cementation of the stereotype of the animosity between vampires and werewolves making your grow increasingly bitter. Did they even care what you thought of this? Had it ever crossed their mind what their behaviour did to you? No! Bloody ridiculous.
“Jesus H Christ,” you snarled under your breath as they knocked down another tree in their supernatural brawl. It was tempting, it really was, to get in there and pull them apart but the thought was also just… absurd. You were a lone human, a tiny one compared to them- and they were creatures of the night and ineffable strength. You sighed loudly, groans of frustration intermixed, before a comforting weight of a hand landed on your shoulder. Turning your head to see, you felt no rush to look for you could sense the new presence weren’t a threat, Ringo. His big soft eyes looked at you with a pity that felt reassuring of your struggle, rather than condescending.
“Come on, love,” you heard Paul whisper in a soothing voice as he appeared on your other side, creeping his cold hand into the warmth of your own. His eyes overwhelmed you with calmness just as well as Ringo’s did. “You don’t have to see this,” he continued, and you were quick to agree, having no real intention to stay around for much longer. They turned you gently around and guided you through the wooden path that lead the way back to the house, leaving the duo and their quarrel over you behind.