Help!

Dont Bother Me

By lunch time, George's head ached something awful. He was tired of having his picture taken and thousands of questions thrown in his face. His friends seemed in a pretty good mood, but not George. All he wanted was a kip. His throat was still hurting terribly and he was just about falling asleep on his feet. He was sure it would clear up by the time he was able to settle down for a bit. It was only a slight cold, he was only experiencing a sore throat.

However, as they were walking towards the limo to get to where they were going to eat, a new symptom made him really wish he could've just stayed back at the hotel. They walked towards it with their extensive security team when the small obstacle appeared. They had to climb up a small flight of stairs to the sidewalk, which normally would not be hard for any of them. They were all in good shape and were relatively healthy. But today, George felt as though he couldn't draw enough breath when he reached the top. Black spots that had already been gathering as a result of his exhaustion pounced with a vengeance and he swayed as his chest tightened frighteningly. He didn't noticeably gasp, but he felt his chest heave a few times before it calmed down to labored breathing.

"Y'alright George?" He felt a hand on his shoulder and it took a moment for him to gather enough breath to answer.

"Yes, I'm fine." He wheezed slightly. He then looked up and saw Paul's face floating in and out of focus. He shook his head and saw clearly. "I'm fine." He repeated, louder, and with an air of certainty.

"If you say so, Geo." Paul sighed, and George didn't miss the worried look shot in his direction. He was too bloody preoccupied with the burning in his chest to care. The tight feeling from earlier ceased, but he still struggled a little to breathe in. It felt a bit like he was drowning. He got in the car and leaned against the window. He felt John, Paul, and Ringo climb in after him.

"You just rest a bit, Georgie." He heard John murmur. Normally he would snip at how he wasn't a child, but he was too knackered to do much but close his burning eyes and wish the throbbing in his temple would just go away.

"The lad's really sick, isn't 'e?" Ringo murmured once George's breathing had settled and he was asleep. He exchanged looks with John and Paul.

Paul agreed full heartedly. He had thought before that George was no worse for wear, but as the morning had progressed the feeling had faded until it was obscure.

"Did y'all see 'ow 'e was at the top of those stairs?" Paul questioned carefully, wondering if they'd seen what he had. "The la' was rightly winded. Thought he was goin' t'pass out I did. Nearly scared me t'death."

"Did 'e?" If possible, Ringo looked even more worried. "That's not good, not good at all. 'Ave y'been noticing that 'e doesn't sleep much?"

"And when 'e does, it's restless." John sighed sadly. "Y'should see 'im at night. Poor lad 'as been tossin and turnin since we started touring."

"Why didn't y'say anything, John? We could've helped 'im, giving 'im meds or something." Paul scolded John gently, as George looked mightily comfortable where he was sleeping.

"Don't wake him, Paul." Ringo whispered. "Hopefully this is just a slight bug, and 'e'll sleep it off by tomorrow morning."

"Alright boys, we're here." Neil turned back to then after he'd parked. He glanced at George in surprise. "He's still asleep? Woulda thought 'e'd be raring t'go by now." As worry crept into his voice, so did a hint of his accent.

"Poor lad's come down with something, but the hope is he'll be better soon enough." Paul said, trying his best to be quiet.

"The only way t'tell George 'ere is sick is if 'e avoids eating." John quipped, his eyes sharp. "It's 'is fault we're bombarded with those stupid Jelly Babies anyhow. An' these Americans only have Jelly Beans. I don know about you, but I personally don't fancy being hit with projectiles whilst trying to play."

"John," Ringo groaned and rolled his eyes. "Don't blame Georgie here. How was 'e t'know? It's our fans y'know, they find us quite interesting."

"Interesting?! I'm no science experiment! I think they want us t'be with 'em. Trouble is, I can't fathom how they think murdering us with Jelly Beans is going t'buy them any favors. An' even if it did, I 'ave Cyn, y'know."

"Not that that ever stopped yeh before, Johnney." Paul quipped. None of them noticed George had woken up, and he was mightily confused.

"How dare you!" John yelped in mock anger. "I'm the perfect picture of fidelity!"

"Well ye're not supposed t'be, y'know." George winced at the sound of his voice, it was raspy and tired, but proceeded to sit up halfway. "T'most people, y'aren't even married. Best not to spoil that now, specially if Eppy catches wind of it."

"If 'e does, I'll simply remind 'im that Cyn and I got married before all this fame came around." John rolled his eyes, and then turned around to look at George crossly. "Ye're one t'talk about exposed secrets, Harri, because last I checked, ye are sicker than a fuckin dog, and most illnesses don't just come on just like that. How long 'ave y'been feelin ill?"