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Ringo had been completely in shock since the moment George laid eyes on him. George, the boy he’d been in love with since they were teenagers, and now he stood next to Ringo with the wildest grin on his face.
“I like you, Ringo.” He thought that this had to be a joke, but George was pissed, and drunk words were sober thoughts, right?
“I don’t understand,” he muttered, just in case it was a set up. I’m reality, he was ecstatic.
“Rich, can we at least try? Just this once? I really want…” He trailed off, sloppily leaning forward and kissing Ringo on the lips.
Ringo couldn’t deny him that, returning the kiss, and soon, somebody was shouting at them, telling them to get out. A few more words came with the demand, but neither of them cared as they left the bar.
A short walk later, they were at Ringo’s place, George eager to get inside. “I feel like I’ve been trapped and hidden away from you for so long. I should have been honest about this before I was piss drunk.”
Ringo almost laughed. That definitely didn’t sound like George, but right now, his mind was too hazy to even care about that, either. He unlocked the flat and allowed George in before him.
-
Ringo knocked on the door to George and Paul’s flat with shaking hands, breaths livid as he waited what seemed to be forever. After a night of his childhood crush finally making love to him, waking up alone the morning after stung him worse than a simple rejection would have at the beginning.
“George Harrison, you better open this door right now! I know you’re in there!”
Not seconds later, it swung open with a huge amount of force, revealing a glaring George behind it. “Richie, I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have left, but I didn’t know what else to do!” he hissed. When he tried to close the door back with an apologetic expression, Ringo stopped it.
“Are you fucking kidding me?! That’s all I get? George, I’m not somebody you can throw around like that!”
George shuffled around, saying, still in a whisper tone, “Please be quiet!”
“Don’t tell me what to do! I’ve been in love with you since I was nineteen, and you left me there like I was nothing!”
George cringed. “Look, Paul’s here, and I don’t want him to suspect--”
“Paul McCartney, I’m fucking gay! And your prick of a roommate is, too!!” George panicked, slamming the door shut, and Ringo became furious. “George!! Open the door!”
“Last night was a mistake, Richie. I only left because I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“What good that did,” Ringo remarked. “Just tell me you don’t fucking love me, and I’ll get on with my life.” At this point, he was starting to become less angry and more upset.
“It’s not because I don’t… fuck, Rich, I’m in a relationship, okay? I was drunk, and I wasn’t thinking straight, and when I woke up, I panicked.”
“So it wasn’t ever going to go anywhere, then?”
He cracked the door open a tiny bit. “... No. I’m so sorry.”
“I just wish you would’ve told me that before you fucked me senseless and left like it was nothing! I’m a real person with real feelings, you know!”
“George?” It was the voice of Paul, soft and timid, and Ringo saw as George visibly paled, not even turning around.
“Good morning, love.” And then it all made sense. George was in a relationship with Paul. How had he never picked up on that before when the two shared their own flat.
“What’s Ringo here for?” Once again, Paul sounded scared as if he already knew and wasn’t ready to accept it.
“We’re just talking about something. It’s nothing you need to worry about.” The way he lied right through his teeth showed Ringo just how far he was willing to go for this pathetic feeling.
“What did you do, George? What’s he talking about?”
George shook his head at Ringo, pleading him to not say a word. But Ringo knew he couldn’t keep quiet. “I’m so sorry, Paul. I didn’t know you two were…” His voice died off, and he heard Paul scoff.
“My god.”
“Macca, I was drunk.”
“That doesn’t make it any better, you fucking--!” He grunted, pushing past George and Ringo and starting down the hallway.
“Wait! Paul, wait! Can’t we talk about this?! You can’t tell me you’ve never--”
“No, George! No, I never have! You know why? Because you’re my boyfriend, and I have enough respect to understand that!”
George’s eyes welled with tears. “Please, love!”
“I’ll be back later, George. I need some time. And you need to realise what you’ve done.” He started to walk down the hall, and George fell to his knees.
“You’re a monster,” Ringo whispered. “I hope you’re fucking happy.”
“Richie, stay—“
“Don’t call me that,” he spat in reply, following Paul down the hallway.