𝘏𝘦'𝘴 𝘓𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘏𝘰𝘮𝘦.

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗.

The four went to the party. They were all greeted like royalty, given champagne and cigarettes the minute they walked through the door.

They danced in the living room with the guests, Cynthia dancing with John and Paul with Jane. George had every girl dancing with him and Ringo was just chilling.

As they were dancing, Cynthia's head begin to spin. She first thought it was because she and John were dancing too much, but even when she went to sit down it didn't get much better.

"Cyn?" He asked as he sat next to her, "You want a drink or something?"

"Johnny, I think I'm coming down with something, I'm going home."

She stood up, "Ok then, sweets. Feel better, yeah?"

"Yeah." She kissed him and walked out.

Paul was absolutely delighted with tonight. He felt truly happy for three first time in two years. Tonight was the best night of his life! Nothing can rui-

"Hey everyone!"

Everyone in the room turned their heads at once to see Pete Best happily strolling on in, looking as healthy as a horse. All the Quarrymen instantly walked to him, their faces either angry or emotionless.

"Let me get this straight." John got up in his face. "You faked being sick on our first show to dump us so you can-" he smoked his clothes, "go drink! And now you have the balls to come to our after-party?!"

Pete shoved him away. "Look man, it's not even a big deal! I'll come to our next show-"

"The fuck you are." Paul stood next to John with his head high. "You're out of the Quarrymen."

"WHAT?!" A crowd was beginning to form. "YOU CAN'T! WHO'S GOING TO BE THE DRUMMER?!"

"I will."

Everyone turned to Ringo, who looked badass with his slow walk, cig in his mouth, and shiny hair. However, he stood away from Pete just in case he wanted to do something smart.

"You ain't a good drummer, mate. I suggest you leave." He blew smoke in his face.

"I LEAVE?!" He pushed Ringo onto the ground. "YOU LEAVE!!"

Before John could yell at him, George flew out of nowhere and punched Pete in his mouth. Pete began to punch him back, causing a full-blown fight in the room. People in higher grades screamed and hit Pete, telling him that George was just a kid. Ringo pulled the younger away and into the kitchen.

"Oh Geo! Your poor eye!"

George looked in a mirror and saw his eye already turning black. Oh dear, how will he explain this to his mother?

Ringo put a frozen bag of peas on his eye. Guilt was eating him up. This fight was all his fault. Paul and John came to them shortly after, both with ripped clothes.

"Alright, the fight stopped. Pete got kicked out." John put tissue in his nose to stop the nosebleed.

Paul turned to George, "You ok?"

"Yeah, just got punched in me face."

"I'm sorry, lads."

"Ringo, you didn't do anything."

"Yeah but..." He looked at his feet. "I feel like if I never joined, this wouldn't have happened."

George wrapped his arm around him. "Rings, we want you here. You're better than he'll ever be."

"Without you, we ain't the Quarrymen. We're just Quarry."

Finally, Ringo smiled, "You guys would be bugs, like beetles!"

"Beetles?" John took the tissue out. "Ringo, you're a genius."

The others looked at him, confused. "Guys, I think we should change our name to The Beetles!"

Paul raised his eyebrow. "That sounds good, but I don't want to spell it with two E's, I'm no bug."

"Then change the second E to an A, just to be cool."

"That's a wonderful idea, George!"

Ringo clapped his hands. "I'm a Beatle!"

-

They partied until twelve. The host of the sleepover drove them to their house, where they all crashed.

In the morning, Paul was woken up by the host. He was confused but followed them outside the room.

"What's the matter?" He whispered to them.

"Me mum said your father called.." Macca felt his stomach drop with dread, "Your brother is in hospital."

No.

No.

No.

Paul's legs begin to shake, "W-why?"

"Mum only said he got really hurt. Your dad wants you home to talk."

It's all my fault.

Paul's mind went foggy as they said to get in their car. He didn't even bring his stuff, he just hopped in and looked at his lap as they drove, the car eerily quiet.

It's my fault.

My fault.....