He's So Fine [Beatles / George Harrison FanFiction]

Chapter Sixteen: 13th October 1963

Brian's shock was greater than Della's, but only just.

He must not have heard her come in, even though she'd made a point of slamming the door behind her. She'd thought it odd that it'd been left open like that. Even if Brian's apartment was on the top floor of Whaddon House and situated in the plush and wealthy Belgravia, it wasn't so affluent that you'd leave your front door wide open.

She heard water running and assumed he was in the bathroom, so without calling out, she walked straight into the lounge that faced the front of the building. Brian had only lived here for a couple of weeks. Things were still in boxes, furniture was still being delivered. The only seats in the lounge were a leather covered footstool and the wooden, hardback rocking chair that Brian was currently perched on the edge of. He was hunched over in his baggy blue and white mattress stripe pyjamas with his head in his hands, like he was nursing a migraine or hangover.

'Oh, I'm sorry. The door was open. I didn't...' Brian looked up and Della's words evaporated. She gasped.

'Get out,' Brian said.

'What's happened?'

'Get out!'

Della's first thought was that he'd been in some sort of accident, a car crash or a... a...

There was nothing accidental about the injuries inflicted on him.

There was a dark red-purple mark around his left eye, sore looking and swollen. He had a small cut to his eyebrow, a bigger one on his bottom lip where the blood had dried. His hair stuck up and out in a way which was quite disturbing on Brian. She'd never seen him look anything but perfect and neat and spruce. This was such a terrifying contrast that it took her breath away. All Della could do was stare.

Brian stood, wobbling slightly. 'Do you think it's acceptable to burst into someone's home without knocking?' he demanded. 'You are fired, Della! Effective immediately. I never want to see you around here or the offices again.'

'Brian...' she breathed.

'GET OUT!'

Clamping her hand over her mouth, Della did as she was told. She ran out of the flat didn't stop running until she reached the street, five floors below.