Miss Him, Miss Him

Found

Paul's eyes shot open, his breathing unnaturally slow. Yet again, he felt like he was unable to move too much. He felt dehydrated and dizzy. Paul managed to reach an arm over to a bottle of water. For once, it had no adverse effects. His body felt unnaturally weak, and his head was terribly hurting. Paul felt like he could vomit any second. He also was unable to think clearly.
Paul spotted a figure in the corner, Billy, but didn't feel like moving or speaking at all.
"Awake, Paulie?" Billy laughed in a teasing manner. Paul didn't respond, not fully absorbing what was said. Another wave of darkness forced him to succumb to more unconsciousness.

Paul's eyes slowly opened. His whole body felt numb and tingled slightly. The major effects of the sedative had worn off, luckily.
He was a bit confused about his surroundings, though. Paul barely remembered going into the closet. He tried to stand, but it felt too awkward to do so. Paul could barely even control his movements.
He rubbed at his eyes in a mix of emotions and feelings. His only desire was to escape, just as he always wanted to do.
Taking a deep breath, Paul forced himself to stand, ignoring the weird feeling. Ducking downwards, he looked through the hole he made.
"Hello?" Paul called out. The band was in fact back in the studio. Paul's words caught John's attention, who moved quickly towards the door, faster than Billy could react.
Paul's legs gave out almost immediately as he fell to his knees, unresponsive. He was still conscious, though.
John looked down, confused at what he was seeing.
"He isn't me," Paul said in a short breath as he collapsed, losing consciousness once again.
John frowned. "Paul never had a mustache, did he?"
"Yeah, that is quite suspicious," George responded. Billy remained silent.
John glared at Billy.
"Get out of the studio," John demanded.
"But, I—"
"No, you're leaving."
Billy put his hands up submissively and left, not saying another word. John turned his attention to Paul, who was still unconscious.
"Is it okay with you both if I leave the studio? I've got to figure out what's going on with Paul."
George gave a simple nod.
"I'd like to be informed on things that are happening with a fellow band member. Is it ok with you if I come to your house? I mean, I'm quite worried for Paul," Ringo questioned in a concerned manner.
"I don't blame you for that, so sure," John agreed.
"I'd like to come, too," George added.
"Let's go, then," John said as he stood up abruptly. He picked Paul up by the shoulders, carrying him out to his car. John carefully placed him in the backseat, not wanting to risk anything.
The drive home was very quick. John opened the door to where Paul sat. Paul was beginning to wake up, but was still not fully conscious. John carried Paul into his house and laid him onto his couch. He also placed a bottle of water next to the couch, unaware of the entire situation with them.
Paul stirred slightly, looking visibly uncomfortable. John sat on a chair next to him, curious as to what would happen.
George and Ringo arrived quite quickly, which also made John aware that he forgot to lock his own door.
"How's Paul?" Ringo asked as he sat on the floor with George, who remained silent
"He seems fine," John informed, his tone dry. He was very focused on Paul.
Paul yawned, his eyes flickering open. He seemed to be not fully aware of his surroundings. His expression was disoriented, as expected. Paul was very confused as to how everything changed in terms of his sights. A main factor in this was how the room was much brighter than the incredibly dark closet.
Paul rubbed at his face. His senses had almost returned to normal.
"Is everything alright, Paul?" John inquired, an anticipating look on his face.
"Mhm," Paul murmured quietly.
"So, could you recall anything that happened?"
Paul didn't fully comprehend what was being said. It sounded like a pure amalgamation of sounds.
John turned his head over to George and Ringo, slightly shaking his head. He tapped his finger on the arm of the chair.
"Hey, John?" Paul asked weakly.
"Yes, Paul?"
"Do you know—do you know where we are?" Paul responded in the same tone as before.
"You're at my house, not the studio," John affirmed.
"I'd hope not."
"Well, then. What got you into there all disheveled like that?"
"Billy Shears," Paul responded blankly.
"The man who pretended to be you?" John asked with a tone of desperation. He knew that this would make everything make much more sense.
"Yeah."
"What caused you to become unconscious? If you know, of course."
"Some water or something."
John nodded, absorbing the information given.
These words would also make Billy more useful to report to the police, which John took advantage of immediately, very much to Paul's relief. He'd actually be able to relax, for once. Paul smiled as John walked over to the phone, feeling the most relieved he'd ever been.