George was still shaking by the time Paul and he got home. The scene with Ringo at the club kept repeating itself in his head and every time he tried to push the thoughts away, they would come back twice as vivid and the one more horrifying than the last. It made his stomach twist and churl unpleasantly, to the point he felt like he needed to throw up. His knees were week and he could hardly focus his eyes for longer than two seconds. He needed to sit down.

Paul helped him over to the couch and gently sat him down before disappearing into the kitchen to get him a glass of cold water. George took his head in his hands and stared down at the ground between his legs and he took deep breaths, trying to calm himself. The worst thing wasn't even that Ringo had been getting a stupid striptease from someone else. No, it was the fact that he had gotten jealous. He had gotten jealous for the exact some reason as Ringo had and why he had broken up with him. He was such a fucking hypocrite.

The sound the heels clacking on the wooden floor of their apartment alarmed George that Paul was coming back. He took a couple of deep breaths before lifting his head and taking the glass of water from his friend, who sat down besides him. He gently started to rub his back, trying to sooth him.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his voice soft and careful, as if he was talking to a spooked horse. George shrugged, before shaking his head. He wasn't. He took a sip of his water.

"He shouldn't have done that." Paul said, but George shook his head with a groan.

"No. It's my fault. Everything is my fault. I'm such a fucking idiot, Paul."

"It's okay to be angry with him, you know." Paul continued, but again George shook his head, putting the glass onto the coffee table in front of him, before nervously playing with his fingers.

"I was jealous, Paul. I was jealous for the exact same reason as he was jealous. I'm such a fucking hypocrite. It's just a meaningless little striptease, and yet I felt this... this anger... I hit him, Paul. Didn't I? I hit him. Oh god... I've been so stupid."

"George..."

"And he had to watch me do all that with all those guys... I can't imagine how hard that must have been. I should have know, Paul. He's such a wonderful guy and now I've fucked it up. He deserves much better than me. I am horrible."

"George," Paul said firmly as he slid off the couch and between his friend's legs, grasping his shoulders tightly with both hands and forcing him to look into his eyes, "You're not horrible, you hear? It's not you're fault. He should have told you he had trouble with it. He should have been honest with you. You couldn't have known. And don't ever say you don't deserve anyone. You're a great guy, okay? Fuck, Geo, you have no idea."

"But-"

"You asked him, remember? You asked him if he had any difficulty with it, and he said he didn't. It's not your fault. It's not his fault, either. It's both your faults. You're both fucking idiots."

"But I hit him, Paul. I hit him because I got jealous for something I also did to him! I can't-"

"Then he should have realised how much seeing something like that hurts."

"But he didn't know I was there!"

"That's no excuse! He shouldn't have done it. Not at the club where you're working, not with all those people around and certainly not with me and John there. Sure, you could have been more understanding towards him and maybe hitting him was not the best idea, but it's not your fault." Paul said and George stared into his friend's eyes for a few moments, letting his mind work to let all that Paul said sink in and make sense of it. Eventually, he nodded.

"I've just been so stupid..." He said with a sigh, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead. It was aching slightly. Paul smiled weakly at him as he nodded.

"Yes, you have. I won't deny that. But don't think you don't deserve him or that this fight between you and Ringo is solely your fault. You're both idiots." Paul told him and George couldn't help but chuckle at that before nodding once more. Paul pulled him into a hug and rocked him gently back and forth as George's body shook in his arms. George gave into him right away and laid his head on his shoulder, feeling how his body slowly started to relax again. He took in a few deep breaths and wiped his damp eyes, before pulling away.

"Thanks, Paul. I- I think I'm going to go to bed." He told him and with some help from Paul he got up again. His body was still shaking and his knees felt like they would collapse underneath him at any moment, and yet he felt a bit better about himself. Paul sweetly wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him against him, so George could lean on him as they made their way to George's bedroom.

               Over the next few days, word travelled fast. Ringo had left the club pretty quickly after George and Paul had done without speaking to anyone apart from Pete to say he was going and to enjoy his party. By the time he got to work again that Tuesday, however, word had gone around that the young man who had slapped him and screamed at him, was one of the strippers who worked at the club and had, in fact, been Ringo's boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend, or boy toy, depending on which version of the story you believed.

Naturally, Ringo had tried his best to stay out of everything and hadn't answered a single question that had been shot his way. Sadly, though, rather than quieting the rumours down, it had only made them wilder and wilder, to the point where someone actually thought Ringo had murdered someone for George or something. He hadn't really spend much time listening to the whole theory. Most of his co-workers were on the right track however, with only a few details being different, even though they acted like it was a fucking joke. It was frustrating.

The thing that annoyed Ringo most about the stories however, was that in every single one of them, George was nothing more than a stripper who had made himself belief Ringo actually cared for him, which was so wrong. George was so much more to him than a mere stripper, and the suggestion alone made his blood boil and want to break the person's neck. The idea that Ringo had never actually loved George hurt.

As days past, Ringo tried his best to ignore the curious looks and questions from his colleagues and mostly spend his lunch on his own behind his desk. He had enough shit to deal with as it was. He hadn't tried to call George after what had happened, knowing fully well he was the last person George wanted to talk to right now. Still, he kept his phone by his side at all the times and religiously checked it every five minutes, desperately hoping George was contact him. He didn't, though.

Ringo felt horrible for what he had done. George had actually wanted to talk to him and maybe make up and now he had ruined it with that stupid striptease. He was such an idiot. How could he have though he could have gotten away with it, with John and Paul both being there as well! Even if George hadn't shown up in person, John or Paul would definitely have seen, which would have been even worse. Now he had fucked it all up.

However, there was something good about the party. Pete had loved it and he was so happy with him that he had promised to put a good word in for him for a promotion! There wouldn't be much change in what he'd be doing, but he'd get paid better and get free tickets to almost every show at the theatre. It had been coming for a while now, so it wasn't a complete surprise, but that didn't mean it wasn't great! However, he would have felt much better about it if he and George hadn't fought.

               "Ah! Richard! There you are! I've been looking all over for you!" Pete announced as he walked into Ringo's small little office, making it very hard to believe had "been looking all over" for him. Ringo decided not to comment on that, however, wanting that promotion now it was so close within reach.

"Can I help you with anything?" He answered politely as he continued typing random stuff on the computer to make it seem he was busy. Honestly, he didn't have a clue what he was supposed to be doing again. Pete nodded and grabbed himself a chair to sit down in. Ringo glanced at him from the corner of his eye, already feeling rather annoyed.

"I just wanted to ask if you'd mind guiding some people around this afternoon?"

"Guide them? You know we've got people hired to do that, right?"

"Yes, but these are very special people and we could really use their money." Pete explained with a little wiggle of his eyebrow, making Ringo snicker despite himself.

"Oh, those kind of people. Sure, I'll do it. When are they coming?" He said, grabbing himself a notepad and pen to write it down so he wouldn't forget.

"At four. Just give them the simple tour, but make it sound very fancy and special. Use grand, big words and stuff. You know how it works."

Ringo nodded and wrote it all down, before tearing out the piece of paper and sticking it with some tape to his computer so he'd see it while he was working. Pete shuffled a little closer to him on his chair and leaned forward, giving Ringo a calculating look. Ringo feared where this was going.

"And about that stripper from this weekend," he started and Ringo had to bite his lip in order not to groan in frustration, "I get it you know. We've all been there. It's a rookie mistake trying to get with a stripper. They are- and this is just some friendly advice, of course- they're there for a reason. For fantasy. But you can't take that fantasy home and try to make it reality. It doesn't work."

"So it seems." Ringo muttered back, his fingers tightening around the pen in his hand.

"Still, he was pretty handsome. I can hardly believed you pulled it off! And at least you had fun while it lasted, right? I bet he was great in bed, too. They kind of have to be, right, strippers? It's all they're good for, anyway."

"He studied at university, you know."

"Hmm... probably a lie to make you like him more. You know, most of them are just very insecure and this is the only way they can feel a little bit of love. Daddy issues too, probably. They all have. I doubt he ever set a foot in a university." Pete continued, chuckling, and Ringo felt another rush of anger flow over him. His entire body tensed up and he had to grip the edge of his seat to keep himself from jumping up and attacking Pete right there and then. Just think about that promotion.

"Of course they aren't to be trusted. They need attention so badly they try to get anywhere they can. But of course, they'll just feel hurt when you do it. Hypocrites. I hope he didn't hit you too hard. Still, he'll find some other guy who'll make him feel loved for a few hours. They're all pretty much whores-"

"Shut up, Pete! Shut the fuck up! You haven't a clue what you're talking about! This is all some kind of joke to you, isn't it? Well, it isn't for me! I did love him, you know. And he loved me. It was so much more."

"Richard, you might think that now, but you're just hurt."

"No! You know what? I don't have to explain this to you. You wouldn't even understand. Just leave me alone, would you?" Ringo snapped back, promptly turning back to his computer and he started typing furiously. From the corner of his eye he could see Pete stare at him, shocked at his sudden outburst. It seemed to be ages before Pete finally nodded and got up. He left without another word. Ringo let out a deep sigh in relief, feeling his body relax again and tears burning behind his eyes. Was that how people saw George? Was this how George had thought he had felt about him? Fuck.

               George sat on the couch eating some cereal as he watched some old reruns of Friends. At least there was something good on at two in the morning. Not that he felt like laughing at any of the jokes. It was better than nothing, though.

Finally, there was some rattling at the door and George turned down the volume of the television as he shouted out for his friend.

"Nice of you to turn up again. I had to take one of the sleazy cabs back because you decided to disappear on me. Where the fuck were you, anyway- Oh shit!" George nearly dropped his bowl when he turned to the front door and saw the look of death on his friend's face. He was completely white and his entire body was trembling all over. His eyes were bloodshot and he had dark circles under them. He seemed incredibly weak as he leaned against John who was holding him up and closing the door behind them.

"What the hell happened to you? Oh god, are you alright?" George gasped as he got up the from the couch, put his cereal on the coffee table and rushed over to his friends. John huffed as he lead Paul further into the apartment.

"Come on. He needs to get to the bathroom to get this out of his system. Help me, would you. He's heavier than he looks." John said and George nodded as he quickly rushed to his friend's other side to support him. He couldn't stop staring at Paul as they stumbled awkwardly over to the bathroom. He looked absolutely horrible. As if he-

"Is a he drugged?" George asked, feeling his stomach churl at the idea alone. He felt like throwing up himself when John nodded "yes". They moved Paul into the bathroom and gently helped him kneel in front of the toilet. He hadn't even sat down for more than a second, or Paul was heaving over the toilet, vomiting violently.

"Shit... what happened?" George asked as he moved Paul's hair out of his face and held his body so he wouldn't fall. It was terrifying to feel how much Paul was actually shaking.

"Some guy drugged him, wanting to get closer than allowed. I doubt he knew what he was doing, judging by this." John muttered as he got up to get Paul a damp towel. George didn't know what to say to that. "I don't think he managed to actually do anything. I think he panicked when he saw what he had done. Then again, I doubt anyone would want Paul like this, no matter how pretty his face is."

"You should know." Paul muttered weakly from the toilet and both man snickered, both relieved Paul seemed to be alright enough to know what was going on around them and actually make clever remarks. George gently rubbed his back as John carefully tried to clean Paul's face with the towel. The boy smiled at the attention.

"Are you feeling better now?" George asked.

"I'll be okay." Paul croaked out, but George found that hard to believe.

"You better be, Paul. Fuck man, you scared the hell out of me." John spoke and thankfully Paul smiled at that as well.

"He didn't touch you, did he?" George asked, still rubbing soothing circles on Paul's back. It seemed to help.

"He g-grabbed me. Touched me. B-but I-I nearly broke his arm. O-or at l-least, I think." Paul answered, his voice weak and fragile-sounding, "B-Brian c-caught him. Cameras."

"You should report him." George said. Paul opened his mouth to say some more, but he only started to gag again. He quickly turned back to the toilet, but nothing more came out.

"Brian is already working on it." John told George instead and George nodded as John turned back to Paul, "Do you think you got it all out?" Paul nodded. "Come on. Let's get you into bed. You need to rest."

               Paul's eyes were rolling in their sockets by the time he was finally lying down, covers pulled up to his chin. Paul and John sat on either side of his bed. John was gently tapping Paul's forehead with another damp towel and George sat with a glass of water in his hand for when Paul wanted a sip. He was sweating and he was still trembling, but some colour had returned to his cheeks, which John and George considered to be positive. He also didn't seem to want to throw up anymore, but just to be sure they had placed a bucket next to the bed.

"If I ever see the fucker who did this, Paul, I'll fucking murder him." John hissed, making Paul smile despite feeling like crap.

"You know, I never though I'd say this, but I've never been so glad Brian tapes every single corner of the club." Paul muttered weakly.

A loud ringing sounded through the apartment and George quickly placed the glass onto Paul's bedside table before getting up the answer the door. He sighed in relief when he opened the door and saw Brian standing in the doorway, looking almost as pale as Paul did.

"Is he alright?" Brian asked without even saying hello. George nodded and stepped aside to let the older man in.

"He's feeling better, if that's what you mean. He's in the bedroom." He said and he let Brian into the bedroom, where Paul was now lying with his head resting against John's hip, his eyes closed and breathing slowly. John was gently running his hand through his hair as he whispered something that neither Brian nor George could hear. Both men looked up as they heard footsteps approach. Brian took a seat on George's old spot and George stood at the end of the bed, keeping a close eye on his friend.

"How are you feeling?" Brian asked sweetly and Paul shrugged. "I'm here for you if you need anything, Paul." Brian continued and Paul nodded with a thankful smile. Next, Brian addressed all three of them.

"I know you boys are strong and this isn't anything new to any of you, but I need you boys to understand the seriousness of this, okay? This is never okay, no matter how many times it happens."

"Eppy, we know. I already promised Paul I'll kill the guy who did this." Brian replied with a roll of his eye. George couldn't help but agree. He knew very well how Paul was feeling and of course this wasn't okay. He'd gladly help John.

"However noble that may be of you, John, I'd rather just have Paul testify against the man who did this and send him to jail instead."

"Fine, but the offer still stands." John replied with a little wink. Brian decided to ignore it, though.

"Do you think you can do that, Paul?" He asked and Paul nodded firmly, as if it had been stupid of Brian to ask. "Also, I'm giving you the next to days of work off and you're not allowed into the club at all or I'll fire you, understood?" Brian told him firmly and Paul nodded again with a slight roll of his eye. George couldn't help but chuckle, knowing his friend well enough to know that he would have been back at work tomorrow if he had the chance.

"Good. Also, I want you to make an appointment with your psychiatrist for at least two appointments to talk about it and help you deal with what happened. It is a traumatic experience, and I don't want you to hurt yourself because of it. Mentally or physically. I also think it'd be wise not to go to school for a while."

"I could let the university know you're not feeling well and won't come for at least a week." George offered quickly and Brian smiled at that, obviously liking that idea very much. Paul rolled his eyes again, but agreed.

"Thanks, Geo." He muttered and George smiled back at him with a little nod.

"Good. Well... now that's settled. I'm going to go and get in contact with the police. I want this to be done and over with as soon as possible. Paul, I hope you feel better soon and don't forgot that I'll fire you as soon as I hear of either John or George that you didn't do what I said, okay?" Paul nodded quickly at that, before groaning and sliding deeper beneath the covers, holding his head in his hand. Brian said his goodbyes and told George he'd let himself out, before leaving. George took his seat at Paul's side again and gently pulled the covers down a bit before helping him to sit and offering his glass of water.

"Thanks, guys." Paul muttered, but John and George shook their heads.

"No need to thank us, Paul. Just get better soon." John told him and Paul smiled again before drinking some water. He drank it all before giving the glass back to George.

"Go get some sleep." He said sweetly and Paul nodded as he closed his eyes. Within a minute he was fast asleep.