Triggers: Death,self harm, drinking do not read it these make you uncomfortable!!!

The Beatles hadn't been on the best terms as of late.
  Paul was being especially nitpicky regarding rehearsals and errors. John was acting even more bratty than usual. George and Ringo were just trying not to say much, to avoid striking a nerve.
  They had just finished a studio appointment, and Paul had vetoed every change and recording of his song. John had found the day a failure, and decided to try for a better session the next day.
   Paul pov

I stormed out of the studio into the crisp November air. I had my notepad in my right hand and a pen in my left, attempting to work out some instrumental and lyrical issues.
  My dark brown hair flopped in my eyes and I continued on my way to my flat. It was very late, so I didn't have to worry about the fangirls mobbing me.
  I was two blocks away from my flat when a set of bright headlights shone in my eyes. A figure was taking a swig from a bottle when the car made impact.
   John pov
 
   My phone rang out through my flat. George had called, saying to meet him at the hospital right away. This was quite concerning, as George was never urgent about anything but his food.
   I waved down a cab and had the cabbie rush me to the hospital.
   When I arrived, Eppy was by the door waiting. He pulled me into a fairly sized room, close to the back. I saw George hugging Ringo, teary eyed.
  I entered the white room and saw an unconscious Paul. A nurse explained that grew was hit by a drunk driver and was in a coma, a coma he may never awake from.

  Two weeks later
 
  I returned to my flat after the memorial and slammed my fist onto the table. I opened a bottle of something spiked and downed it all. I continued until I fell into a drunken stature, unable to properly handle the loss. I reached for a blade and slit my wrists until my vision blurred and blackened.
  Paul rushed to to me in a blindingly white atmosphere and screamed, " John Winston Lennon! You are so completely and utterly stupid! " While hugging me, he continued to lecture me, but I simply didn't care. I had my Macca, and he had his Winnie.

  Sorry, I just killed two Beatles in an absolutely awful short. I'm so very sorry and don't mean any offense.