Okay, ya'll. I know this story is tremendously depressing and extremely repetitive, but I'm just warning you that this is how it's gonna be for a few more chapters. I'm just prolonging it for the cute little chapters with Anna and the other boys. I really hate it 'cause I know people are starting to get pissed, but I'm sorry to say that it's gonna be like this until the end of this PART of the story. PART, as in, there's gonna be a part 4. About chapter 16 is when there's gonna be some change. Like, five chapters from now. I know it sounds like a long way away from now, but I'm gonna see if I can spend all day working on this so we can move along with all this unhappiness. Please bear with me! I've already got the next three chapters ahead of this one written out, so it should go by pretty fast, I promise!

Anyway, this chapter's kind of short, but here it is!

Disclaimer: Annabelle.

Part 3: Rubber Soul

Chapter 12: Drive My Car/You Won't See Me

Paul took John's advice and began packing as soon as they were home and he thought everyone was asleep. He threw a few changes of clothes into his suitcase along with his toothbrush, paste and the like before tossing it into the backseat of his car. He came back into the flat for one last thing and looked around, confused. He thought he'd put it on his bed, but it was nowhere to be found. He searched around as quietly as he could, trying not to wake the sleeping George, Ringo, John and Anna but still couldn't seem to find it. That's when he noticed John wasn't in bed. He didn't think much of it and was about to leave without his one extra piece of luggage when a voice sounded quietly behind him.

"Looking for this?"

Paul turned and found John leaning in the doorway to the white door with his guitar in one hand, switching on a small lamp with the other. Light flooded the small space between them.

"Um, yeah." Paul's monotone voice barely carried to John's ears as he took his guitar and started for his car without looking back. John followed him.

"So, where you headed?" he asked, crossing his arms and leaning on Paul's car.

"Don't know." Paul set his guitar in the backseat next to his other luggage.

"When should we expect you back?"

"I don't know, John. I'll, uh, give you a shout when I know something." He got into the driver's seat and shut the door, rolling down the windows. The engine started and John turned his body, leaning his hands against the car.

"It'll get better. I promise." He said. Paul didn't say a word as he put the car in drive and drove away. John sighed, hoping that this would work. Giving Paul some time to himself and giving Anna some time away from Paul and more time with Ringo, George and himself. He walked back into the flat and found George tucking Anna into his gold-framed bed. John sighed, rubbing his face with his hands as George crawled into the bed next to Anna and wrapped his arms around her, shushing her softly. John stepping into his own bed and it didn't take him long to drift to sleep.