Work Text:
—~—
The boys had just finished recording a few songs for their future album Beatles for Sale. With the money they had earned; they bought a nice little flat outside of Liverpool's city limits to get away from the fans.
It was a small two bedroom flat. Just something to get them by. They made the master bedroom into their practice room/mini studio room, and put 4 twin beds in the other for a place to sleep.
You'd think "Oh! They're celebrities! They'd have their own rooms and have queen or king beds!!!"
Not in this case. It's The Beatles!
What mattered to them was that they had a roof over their heads, a studio room, a place to sleep, eat and read the morning newspaper.
—~—
September 7th, 1964.
Ringo tossed and turned on his bed. The others were already knocked out cold. He sat up after getting infuriated with his lack of ability to sleep.
Something was clearly bothering him.
He stood up and walked around the room, trying to be quiet not to be a disturbance. Twisting the end of his pyjamas, he was trying to find something to do- but it's the middle of the night.
He then approached George's bed- hoping he could brew some sleepy time tea.
Ringo gently shook George, who slowly opened his eyes. George is a huge light sleeper, it feels like a miracle he didn't wake up from Ringo restlessly moving around.
"I can't sleep..."
George slightly sat up and studied Ringo for a moment since it was dark in the room. Finally taking in what he just said.
"Please try to sleep mate... Eppy wants us in studio to re-record a track." He whispered as he looked over at John and Paul who were sleeping soundly.
"I can't.." Ringo almost pouted. He grabbed George's arm as if he was begging. At what cost though? George couldn't do much to help Ringo.
"And why is that? A bird on ye mind again? I keep tellin ya to not get so attached, they break your heart." George sat up some more, still keeping his voice a whisper.
He gestured for Ringo to sit, if something was bothering him, talking it out will usually help a ton.
"No Geo.. not a bird this time.. I just can't sleep."
George stared blankly at Ringo. Seriously?
If there's nothing bothering him, why was it so difficult to sleep? George was prepared to have deal with a hurt Ringo over some heartless chick again but apparently it's nothing.
"Like I said Ritchie, Eppy wants us in the studio, you need to get some sleep.." George put his hand on Ringo's shoulder.
"You're up as well, what's the issue?" Ringo tilted his head to the side and looking at the ground in a childlike manner. He just wants some way to sleep, a bird is beyond what's getting into his head.
"Oh sod off, you're the one who woke me up.." George rolled his eyes in a joking tone.
He rubbed Ringo's shoulder with his thumb back and fourth, reassuring him all is well, regardless of not knowing what was bothering the drummer.
Well... what was bothering him?
"I'm goin to brew me some tea..." Ringo sat up slowly, George nodded and laid back down fully.
Ringo exited the room and went into the kitchen. He poked around for the tea bags- then realized there wasn't any.
"Of course!" He sighed sarcastically and decided to sit at the dining room table to think.
He started to hum as he would take his rings off and start playing with them like they were toys or something.
"I just wish they would let me sing.. they've lost their bloody minds haven't they?"
So that's what was wrong with him.. why he couldn't sleep!
"I sing yeah but... I never get to write my own songs and it's impossible to get them to let me solo!"
He huffed as he stopped fidgeting with his rings, allowing himself to be still and sink into deeper thought.
Then something moved, it sounded unusual to Ringo. He had hopes it was George- who possibly knew where some tea could be.
"Who's there?" Ringo kept his voice calm.
Ringo wasn't sure why he was actually even asking; sure the movement was unfamiliar, but it's just the 4 of them inside the house. Why would he need to ask?
"Would you wish to sing?" An unnatural voice spoke. It was hard to lay a finger on what exactly was speaking.
Although, Ringo wasn't scared. He should've been, right?
He didn't know who was speaking, so he pictured it was John finally offering to let him write his own song and even sing his own song.
John was the leader or whatever, he makes all the decisions and decided who does what. For as long as anyone could remember- John disliked Ringo's singing voice. He couldn't sing for crying out loud!
John and Paul eventually agreed that even singing classes wasn't helping his case.
"Yeah... that would be nice.." Ringo let out in stutters. He was just so excited someone even offered.
George would love for Ringo to sing, he's the only one that really sees potential in the drummer. Every time he would ask to sing and immediately get shut out, George was the one to assure him that his voice is great.
In their earlier days, they would usually run around, singing songs of their own. Or if they were riding they'd let the radio play something like Elvis and sing like the world didn't matter.
"Come to the pantry." That same raspy voice spoke back.
Ringo didn't know what he was even getting himself into, all he knew was he wanted to be able to sing. To prove to John and Paul that maybe he's worth singing alone on a track or two.
Without hesitation, he walked towards the pantry, he wasn't even really questioning the circumstances, rather Would John and Paul finally give me a chance?
He waited for the next command as he allowed his mind to picture him finally singing on stage; mic in hand as crowd cheered.
Suddenly, something grabbed him and pulled him inside. He let out a little yelp before it became silence.
Pure silence.