(Sorry for the delays, mate.) (I'm British now *dab*)

in the apartment; 12:00 AM

After the boys left, you went to bed. There was a slight tapping at your window, but you didn't care.

There was a knock on the door. You sleepily opened it.

"George?"

George was standing there. He looked awfully light-headed, and he looked around your room with puffy, sleepy eyes.

"I left my guitar."

You nodded, and grabbed it from under your bed.
Handing it to him, George gave a suspenseful grin.

"Uh, George, you okay?"

You knew he was drunk, but you couldn't admit it out loud.

You heard footsteps from down the hall. Probably one of the boys. You had to stall him.

"So, George, wanna play a tune?"

A look or confusion washed across his face. "W-What?"

He looked so dazed. You felt bad for him. Sliding into his arms, Ringo comes running down the hall and a stutter escapes from his mouth.

"Y-Y/N?"

You were shocked. "It's not what it looks like, Ringo..."

You backed away and George clapped wearily. "Yay!"

Ringo grabbed George's arm. "Come on, Geo. We've got better things to do..."

You sigh.

It's wasn't supposed to be like that...