Psycho Killer || Starrison

Chapter Two

You have to do it.

"He's my friend."

It doesn't matter.

Harrison was sitting on the floor. He couldn't believe, what has just happened, or rather what was going to happen. He tried to take it casually, with a carefully learned numbness. But this time wasn't like any other — Paul was his best friend. They've known each other since always, played in the band together, reached the top together, and now... was it supposed to be the end? George couldn't stop the tears at the thought of what he had to do.

Enough moping, he heard familiar voice.

The same that told him to open the phone book. The same that was doing this for nearly two years. Cold and distant.

Arthur.

George couldn't remember the first time he heard him. He couldn't remember the first time Arthur told him to kill neither. Harrison remembered his every victim though. Every name, surname, every face. But he would do anything to forget, to not be haunted by nightmares and remorse just for one night.

This is what the guitarist envied Arthur the most. This man had no problems, was ruthless. He felt nothing, cared about nobody. The only thing he did was making the commands. Commands that George had to comply one by one.

"Can't we make an exception?"

The Codex does not allow it.

"I don't give a shit about your codex! What even is this?" For the first time in his life Harrison raised voice at his companion. But he didn't receive any answer.

"Halo?" Silence. "Damn it..."

He was not going to sort out anything today. When Arthur wasn't in the mood for talking, he didn't. He wasn't giving any signs of his presence. Nothing.

George didn't mind his absence though. Sometimes Arthur stayed silent for days, Harrison could nearly forget about him then. At night, he still had to deal with nightmares, but during the day, playing with the guys, he could feel like any other boy his age. He could feel normal. But this time the guitarist had no chance to get relieved. He started to panic. He couldn't hurt Paul, his best friend. After all, Macca was a fucking Beatle! Someone would be interested in his disappearance; they had a special security already. Even if he did it, the real investigation would start instantly. They would find and hang him! It couldn't end like this.

The next day Harrison didn't appear in the studio. He told the others he hasn't felt well. It wasn't even a lie, last night he didn't sleep a wink. The man couldn't stop thinking about what has happened. On this day he tried to talk to Arthur as well, but his companion didn't bother to answer. George was becoming more and more worried. He had to do it until the end of the month. Six days left.

Next twenty-four hours have passed. Arthur won't let him endlessly procrastinate it — Harrison had to work fast and leave no traces. Just as always.

He appeared in the studio right at twelve o'clock. The rest of The Beatles were waiting for him already.

"Hi, Geo," they greeted.

"Feeling better?" asked Paul.

"Hi. Um... Yes, better," George said, trying more to convince himself than the others.

Soon they got to work. The guitarist, hating every single thought, was developing his plan. He knew what he had to do, but he needed a good opportunity. Deep down inside he hoped this opportunity would never come.

"A break, maybe?" asked Macca, looking at George worriedly when he mistook the notes again.

"Good idea," Harrison said, putting his guitar down.

John and Ringo took a seat aside, caught up in a conversation. Paul, on the other hand, sat next to his friend.

"Hey, you sure you're alright?"

"Huh? Oh, yes..." George nodded unsurely.

The fact that McCartney was worrying about him certainly didn't make anything easier. This whole thing would be much simpler if he acted like a girl on her period. If he shouted and got offended every time the guitarist made a mistake. If he was angry that Harrison left yesterday's recording. Or if he started to make fun of him with John, like they did from time to time. It would be simpler. But no, today he had to be his lovable and caring self... Great...

"I thought so. You're not looking good today. Maybe we'll finish for now," Paul proposed.

"No need to, I'll be good. I just didn't sleep well today."

"Even if... Go home, get rest. I'll take you home."

Take you home. That was the opportunity he waited for. The chance like this could never ever happen again. Harrison had to take an advantage of it even though he felt terrible; he was about to do this to his friend, his best friend. Thing he never wanted to do to any person. Because nobody deserved it. And use the fact that Paul was worrying about him. At this very moment George hated himself much more than ever. He was about to refuse, when...

"Sure, thanks," the guitarist heard his own voice. But it wasn't him who spoke — he never meant to say those words.

'Arthur, damn it... I can't do this...'

Of course, you can... Why not?

Harrison knew it's all over. The decision was made and no one bothered to ask for his opinion. And now all he had to do was to follow the rules.

Macca walked to the guys and told them that they can go back home, put his coat on and made his way out with George. They got into the car and soon were already parking beside the guitarist's house.

"Maybe... you'll come for a tea?" Saying this took all the man's willpower.

"Sure," McCartney smiled. "Thanks."

"No problem."

Two friends got in. Time to get down to the business.

'Do I really want to do this?' He kept asking himself, pouring a big dose of sedatives into Macca's tea. 'Of course not,' he answered, handing a cup to the bassist.

After some time Paul started to complain about dizziness. George helped him to lay down on a couch. For a while McCartney was blinking slowly, until he finally closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry," the guitarist whispered, terrified of what he has just done. He carried the unconscious man to the basement and took his keys.

Harrison had to drive back Paul's car, but not until it'd get completely dark. Drawing an attention on yourself isn't something you do, while kidnapping your band mate. It's not something you do, while kidnapping anybody!

One more hour. That should be enough. After that time he sneaked into the car and drove away, under the cover of darkness. George knew the address very well. It wasn't that far away neither. He parked on a driveway, thankful that Macca lived on his own; the man preferred not to imagine what would happen if he left the car beside a house full of people. He wouldn't be able to explain that.

The guitarist came back home on foot, trying not to pay heed on himself. By this time it wasn't that hard, even if he was a Beatle. Right after entering the house he changed and went to bed, doubting he'll be able to fall asleep. A day full of attractions was ahead of him. That didn't apply to Arthur though. Oh no... he was just going to do his job and disappear, just as always.