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Ringo would occasionally turn to look at the ailing man by his side. His friends normal relaxed demeanor had become as skittish as a squirrel. Starr knew the cold stance his companion flaunted was just a show. Paul would put up his icy spikes across his personality whenever he was emotional but didn’t want to display it. The bassist’s camouflage had become its own red flag and all who are close to him could recognize it.
So the quiet pair remained so, for most of the entirety of the ride, only breaking the silence within moments of their destination.
“Would you at least park in the back?” asked Paul, meekly keeping his head down. “I’d rather avoid as many people as possible.” The man resembled a storm cloud as he made his request.
“Of course.” The driver responded, while making the very adjustments his friend requested. As they drove past the front entrance, Paul noticed the vehicles of his two lovers in the driveway.
“John and George are here!” the passenger cried, hiding himself below the window.
“Relax.” Ringo told him, “you don’t have to talk to them if you don’t want to.” He gently touched his ailing friends back with his hand. “Its going to be okay. I promise.” Starr pulled in the back and parked as requested, but Paul didn’t get out right away. Instead the anxious man just stayed there, clinging to his fight against the inevitable. Ringo was still in the car, watching his friends descent into madness before his very eyes. Then the gentle friend reached his hand over to join Paul’s. The unexpected touch caused the anguished man to look up at the driver, with his eyes wild as if he were going to be attacked. “Take it easy.” The drummer soothed. “I promise you everything you’re afraid of is just in your head.”
“So you think I’m crazy?” McCartney said defensively, looking away frustrated.
“No, I think you’re upset.” Starr assured. “You’ve been hurt and now you’re scared.” The blue-eyed man kept his touches soft and sweet, but remained as firm as a father.
“I’m fine, this is just so unnecessary.” The broken man insisted in his delusional state of denial.
“Then the talk will be no problem.” The elder of the pair purported. Paul just responded by letting go of his friends hand and folding his limbs close to his chest. Then in silent hysterics the man bent himself forward to be closer to his knees. He just wanted to hide, this was just so humiliating and scary. He couldn’t say those words, he just wanted to leave. Soon the bassist felt an arm around his back. Looking up Paul could read his bandmates face before him. There was indeed a great deal of sympathy in those blue eyes that were soft, gentle and kind. However the jaw below the sweet orbs, showed the relentless drive to deliver the madman to their manager.
Realizing there was nothing he could do, Paul collected himself. He was a gentleman after all. Not born into Gentry, but earned it. The soft spoken Beatle stepped out, looking cool and reserved. However, while the drummer was opening his door, Paul began to run down the driveway. Ringo saw him and got back in the car and followed after the escapee. Yet it was only a minor sprit, as McCartney abruptly stopped midway from the driveway. He knew he wasn’t going anywhere. The man just needed to try to flee from the scene, and the running did feel good.
“Where do you think you’re going?” asked the disgruntled man from the car. Ringo was clearly annoyed by the stunt.
“I had to give it one last try.” Paul said with a faint smile. However the petite Beatle was not amused as he parked the car where Paul stopped. Then he got out of the vehicle to walk the runner back to the house. This time the drummer held firmly onto Paul’s shoulder, to prevent him from taking off again. Even as they entered Mister Epstein’s home through the front door, since Paul’s attempt of escape brought them around the house, Starr kept a strong grasp. When walking through the threshold, the prisoner noticed there were no servants to greet them, which was not common in this home. This was a relief as he didn’t want to be humiliated further.
“Think about it man,” said the shorter Beatle. “when you leave this house you will feel so much better.” He was trying to make this a less frightening prospect, but his companion was not moved by his optimism.
“That’s doubtful.” McCartney snarked as cold as ever. He was clinging to anything he could to appear strong.
Still clasping his bandmates shoulder, Ringo walked his taller inmate towards their managers office. The little run was a pleasant distraction for Paul, but now everything was flowing into fruition. Clearly this had been well thought-out, at least that was his impression until they reached the outside of the office he was being guided toward. George and John sat side by side in delicate wooden chairs, across from the door where Paul was being guided towards. The pair looked up and stared at their distraught friend, but said nothing. Paul hesitated to move forward upon seeing the two men he slept with.
“Don’t worry about them.” Ringo whispered in his ear. “They are here for you, only when you’re ready to talk to them.” Paul found himself holding the drummers hand, who responded warmly. “It’s going to be okay, I promise.” The blue eyed man softly spoke, looking at his frightened friend. However with his mind in a constant state of survival mode, the dark haired man used every ounce of his being to resemble a statue. He kept his face cold and reserved through the awkward encounter, as he approach the entryway to the room he was being condemned. To Paul’s surprised Ringo opened the door without knocking. When entering the office, the soft spoken man realized he and his captor were the only ones there.
“Have a seat.” His petite guard ordered as he closed the door. “Epi will be here shortly.”
“Which ones getting him, John or George?” the darker haired man asked, while refusing to sit. Instead Paul remained standing and scanned the room, as if there were a hidden exit he didn’t know of.
“I dunno, one of them is though.” Starr admitted to his friends observation.
“So this entire scenario has been well orchestrated.” Paul remarked, while finding a handsome set of books on a wooden wall mount to hide his face.
“I admit there was planning and prepping involved.” The stronger man confessed. "We wanted to make sure you were as comfortable as possible.” Then Ringo walked over to his friend, to get a side view of his face, but the bashful man turned as he approached. “Would you like me to stay when Brian arrives or would you prefer I leave.” He offered sweetly.
“You may leave now if you like.” Paul answered not trying to sound snobbish, but it came out that way.
“John and George are here for you too, if you want them.” The drummer reminded the bassist.
“I’ll be fine alone.” Was the stubborn man’s answer to such kindness.
“I’m going to stay here with you, until Brian arrives.” The smaller man replied sternly to the verbal blow. He was clearly getting aggravated by Paul’s constant rebellion to the help he obviously needed. Yet, the drummer recalled George behaving the same way, so he buried his resentment, trying not to take the coldness personally. So instead of conversation, there was an awkward stillness for a while, as the manager made his way to the office. The two men remained in one spot as Mister Epstein strolled to the conflict at hand. Ringo guarded the door and Paul fixated on a volume of encyclopedias. Neither said a word to each other during this time.
It wasn’t long when the door opened. Paul’s stomach sank at that moment, as he heard the separating of the wood. He was paralyzed with fear when he sensed the presence of his manager, without turning around. McCartney first could smell the man’s cologne. It was lovely, Paul had to admit. Yet in his madness he could feel the extra body in the space somehow, even though they were on opposite sides of the room. Then the bass player shuttered for a second upon hearing Brian’s voice.
“Thank you Richard,” said the eldest man in the room, which was Brian now. He was nearly six years older than Ringo.
“I’m happy to help.” Replied the drummer. Paul still wasn’t turning around.
“Please come step outside with me for a minute.” The prestige is gentleman among them asked of his compliant client. The smaller man nodded then exited behind the open door that hadn’t closed since Mister Epstein stepped in.
“I will be just a moment Paul.” The manager politely announced. Paul gave no response, not even turning around to acknowledge this man’s presence. The soft spoken Beatle just heard the door close and knew they would all be talking about him.
He was correct.
Once the door was closed, the manager and the three other bandmates gathered together in front of the door of the office.
“How is he?” John anxiously inquired to Ringo.
“He’s a mess.” Ringo answered. “When I found him he was in his car with the ignition on, but didn’t try to go anywhere. Still I had to coax him out of his car.”
“Did he open up at all?” Brian inquired. Unfortunately the driver just shook his head.
“Not really.” Starr reported. “He wept for a second over being afraid to address the issue, but he’s been more quiet and defensive. He also tried to run off when we arrived. He didn’t get far, just half way through the driveway. I went after him in the car and he stopped.” Explained Ringo.
“This tells me he wants help, he’s just frightened to face himself.” Epstein elaborated.
“Yeah, Paulie wasn’t keen on his reflection during our affair.” George added with his own experience with the bassist.
“You’ve noticed that too?” John asked George, who nodded in agreement.
“Alright, I’m going in to talk to him.” announced the elder of the bunch. “John, George, stay here encase I need you for Paul.” The two lovers agreed. “Rich, would you mind hanging around? We could use your help for errands since I relieved my staff for the day. You wouldn’t mind making tea and bringing in refreshments?”
“Not at all.” Answered the drummer, still eager to help, despite Paul’s offenses.
“Good lad.” Their manager gave the small man a pat on the shoulder, then approached the doors to his office. Brian drew in a heavy sigh as he opened the barriers and prepare to face this struggling man.
Paul had relaxed a little while being alone, but stayed close enough to return to his position when hearing the breech of moving wood. He was determine not to turn around unless it was to leave, as he was determined not to be further humiliated. The Beatle remained still while the manager made his entrance. This time, the two were alone. Hearing the closing of his only way out, Paul did all he could to keep his composure.
Brian Epstein reviewed the tragic sight before him. Paul was pale and skittish, as described by Ringo. However what the experienced queer could see that the others could not was under the fear was the desire to be helped. The man was obviously suffering, just like George, but clearly McCartney had festered in his anxiety too long. Unlike Harrison, the bassist had completely withdrew within himself in his paranoia. With this in mind the manager prepared himself.
“Hello Paul.” Brian greeted softly after reviewing the lad for a moment. Paul took some time to debate with himself on whether to answer or not.
“Hello.” He finely responded in a cold voice. Brian looked the young man over. He had never seen the bassist behave like this before. Cautiously he thought of what to say.
“I want to congratulate you on your remarkable efforts with George.” The manager stated in a positive note, while taking his seat at his desk.
“I’m glad I could help.” McCartney replied sounding completely void of all emotion. The elder paid careful attention to his body and voice. Every word the Beatle said was being analyzed and he was aware of it. The youth was careful in everything he did and every word he uttered.
“I also heard you helped John come to terms with his attraction to you.” The counselor among the pair brought up. “Quite impressive, I couldn’t even do that.” Paul was quiet. He was humiliated that Brian knew so much about his sex life. “You are a very nurturing person.” Brian continued hoping to get any reaction.
“Thank you.” Paul meekly responded, feeling his rebellious nature start to loosen it’s tight grip on his heart, but still persisted.
“No, thank you.” Mister Epstein insisted. “You did more than I ever could. Both John and George are grateful to you. They want to tell you this themselves.” The back of the singers head began to twitch, as he listened to the other man in the room. Then a sigh broke the awkward silence.
“You can tell them I got the message.” The Beatle replied stubbornly.
“George said you threatened to leave the group.” The manager suddenly brought up, hoping by switching the subject would make it harder for Paul to keep up his icy composure. “Is this true?” there was a shift in the patients stand, but only for a moment.
“Yes, but I didn’t mean it.” The dark haired man admitted. Brian was secretly relieved.
“I’m happy to hear this. We all love you.” There was a warm sweet ring in his tone when the manager related these words. He was slowly trying to chip away at this man’s icy front.
“Some love me too much.” Paul uttered, realizing it was a mistake afterwards. He found himself fighting himself at this point. Although it was his initial goal was to remain as cold as a statue and leave as he came, a part of him began to ache. His managers words were becoming more and more inviting. The desire to give in was becoming stronger, but relentlessly he held on to his initial plan.
“Would you care to explain?” the older man coaxed, sensing a crack in this man’s exterior shell.
“I’m sure you know.” The Beatle said so bitterly, he could taste it.
“I know more about the emotional impact you have had, than I do of the method’s in which you applied.” Mister Epstein explained. He knew the lads shyness about sex with women, so he was very selective in his wording.
“Oh come off it Epi!” McCartney snapped to the pussy footing around the issue. He felt mocked, even he knew this wasn’t the case. “I’m sure those two went into elaborate detail.” At last, a strong reaction.
“George told me how you helped him overcome is problems with masturbation.” The counsel clarified. “He was quite discreet in his wording. John did bring up that you have both tried anal sex. However this was information I needed to know, to understand how they recovered.” Then the elder man arouse gently from his chair and slowly walked over to the man staring at his books. “You must really love them, John and George, to do what you did with them. To come to their aide. To give them love and comfort when they were so vulnerable.” Epstein was standing before Paul’s back, a little closer than it was for customary decency. It was hard to read the young man. “You know, the trouble with people as nurturing as you are, you tend to have trouble asking for help yourself, even accepting help when they need it.” He reached his hand around the young man’s hip and extended it in front of the youths exterior.
Paul had started crying when Brian brought up how much he loved John and George. He kept his weeping quiet and body still, but his face was a mess. His managers hand looked so welcoming, he found he wanted to turn around. Soon Brian’s hand found his shoulder. It felt so warm through his shirt, it was a struggle to remain defiant. “Sometimes love can be scary, confusing, conflicting…” Epstein whispered.
“heartbreaking.” McCartney said underneath his breath. Brian who was leaning against the younger man, heard the little slip.
“Come sit down with me.” The elders voice sounded so inviting. “I promise everything you tell me will stay between us.” The manager suggested.
“No!” Paul insisted. This wasn’t easy to say, as at this point it would just be simpler to give in, but the very idea was still terrifying.
“Why?” Brian asked, with his warm breath on Paul’s tight neck. “What are you afraid of?” the Beatle was struggling to hide his crying. This is what the soft spoken Beatle was terrified would happen.
“I’m not afraid!” He gasped as the tears caused his sinuses to loosen and he choked ever so slightly. Upon hearing the difficulties in the younger man speech, the older man drew in nearer.
“Then why don’t you want to talk to me?” the homosexual inquired.
“Because you’re not John!” The struggling man cried. "John is supposed to be the one giving me the talk!”
“if that’s all you need,” the gentleman replied. “then I will bring John in here to talk to you..”
“No!” McCartney shouted. “I don’t want him near me!”
“Why not?” Brian wanted to know.
“Because I can not forgive him for what he did to George.” The bassist stated plainly.
“Tell me what John did to George.” The counsel pressed. He was working on a hunch.
“You know what happened.” The lead singer clapped back.
“I want to hear it from your perspective.” Brian insisted. Struggling to maintain his composure, Paul took a deep breath and then released it as a sigh.
“John took advantage of him.” McCartney answered. “He preys on people’s vulnerability. He pretends to care and love you, but he just uses you. What he did was mean, it was cruel and terrifying!”
“How do you think “George” felt about the incident?” Mister Epstein asked directly in the troubled man’s ear. As he said these words to the wounded patient, Paul found himself having flashes of his and John’s love making. Those tender arms, soft lips and the way his dick felt inside… oh how his heart ached for those precious moments again.
“At first conflicted and confused.” The younger man explained. He closed his eyes, trying to stop the tears and to block out the memory of how wonderful Lennon’s cock tasted. “John makes it feel good, while convincing you to engage in acts so terrifying.” The memory of being penetrated for the first time, danced in his mind as he relayed his thoughts. “While in the heat of passion, everything is lovely, but when it’s over it’s a dirty secret. You feel ashamed and guilty.” He recalled helping George masturbate in the shower. “You question your very sanity and there’s no answer, no response.” Paul knew his emotional state was obvious as he paused. Nothing was normal since this entire disaster started. The man struggled every day just to live with himself. He had been avoiding mirrors since his trip with Harrison, for the youngest Beatles recovery. “I can’t even stand to look at myself!”
“I’m sorry John hurt you so much.” The elder man soothed gently, knowing exactly what he was doing. Suddenly Paul realized the talk had began. He gasped to breathe. Forgetting himself, his hands found his face. No hiding or denying it, he was a broken mess and he no longer had the strength to fight.
His manager instantly embraced him from behind and turned him around while drawing in the wounded lad into his breast. Brian unlike Paul’s two former lovers was actually a little taller and broader than him. The change was a shock. It was an overpowering feeling, but warm and loving. Like the arms of a father holding a child close. It felt so good not to be the bigger one, the strong one.
That’s when Paul discovered what John learned in Barcelona years ago, Epstein’s loving embracing chest.