When I first imagined this story, I had this scene jumping around in my head. It's funny, but I knew the end before I really even knew the beginning. And yeah, I would definitely say that I built the story around this. Which is sad, in a way, because…I don't wanna say, but it really is sad. Maybe not cry your eyes out sad, but heart wrenchingly sad. I'm just gonna say something real quick, and then I'll get on with it: it's not Ringo's fault. Alright? Okey dokey then, here's chapter eighteen!

It was killing me.

I didn't know that heartbreak could kill a person, even in the minor form that I had, but I could already tell that it was. I was trying so hard to be a person that Ringo would want, that Ringo would love. But it was to no avail.

And it wasn't just me. The house was oddly quiet. It was like Ringo, George, and Paul didn't know what to do if they didn't have to break up a fight between John and me. Because I just didn't have the heart to start anything with John anymore; he was down, too. We were united in that one thing, that one pain. I was hurt, yes, but I had some pep in me. I was trying, at least. But not John. He seemed to have given up. That defeated look in his eyes was about enough to make a person cry. And no one knew what was bothering him except for me. Because honestly? He was still John Freaking Lennon. He still kept everything bottled up until he lashed out in anger.

I was talking to Ringo about nothing, apparently, because he looked most disinterested, when he brought up a most, er, UNWANTED subject.

"So I've been seeing Bonnie." He was drumming out a beat on his leg, not even looking at me. At just that name my face whitened, so it was probably a good thing he wasn't watching.

"Oh?" I asked weakly. He just nodded, absentmindedly hair-flipping. Is it just me, or is it SUPER hot when boys hair-flip? When girls do it, everyone in the room is like 'Okay, we KNOW you think you're hot shit, but no one cares.' And then a guy does it and every girl is, like, in awe that such a specimen could do such an amazing trick.

"She seemed…" I trailed off, not knowing how I would describe her. I had seen her exactly twice, both times over two weeks ago. The one time on George's birthday, the other the day after. I had never really talked to her, seeing as she was a bit busy both times.

Ringo looked up at me, grinning. "She's great. Sometimes she's at the studio with Martin, and we really got to talking." His eyes looked distant for a second. "I've never met another girl like her."

Okay, God, really? Why was he doing this to me? Was he TRYING to make me cry? Was he TRYING to obliterate my heart? I mean, COME ON! I wanted to tell him SO damn bad, but I couldn't make the words come out of my mouth. It was my natural instinct to tell the truth overtaking me, and I was trying as best I could to fight it. It was heart against brain, right shoulder against left shoulder, conscience against constitution.

He smiled, and instantly all my thoughts melted away. That goofy, adorable smile. It made the corner of those deep blue eyes crinkle, and made my heart just about burst. Tell him, something in me screamed. Do it now!

"Ringo, I-"

"I know that you haven't really met her, but I think that-"

"-have to tell-"

"-you could really get along."

"-you something."

We both just looked at each other, and it was yet another one of those times where everything I was feeling seemed to come out in the air between us. I didn't have to say anything, nor did he; it was silently understood.

"Then tell me," he encouraged, grinning feebly. I think he could tell that he wasn't going to like this.

"I…" How the fuck was I supposed to start this? I'm deeply, passionately in love with you? You are the only man that I can ever imagine myself with? I need you, and I just want you to need me, too? I figured that the best way to do this was to get it out there, right off the bat. "…love you."

My words echoed around the studio room, sounding too fervorous to me. Too intense. At least the other three had already gone home. Actually, I DOUBTED they were at home, but that was a different story. Was Bonnie here? Was Eppy or Martin there? Oh, well. Too late.

Ringo frowned slightly. "Yeah, I love you, too." He pointed his finger at me mock-sternly. "So don't ever leave us!"

I looked down. Sure, that was fucking amazing news. He loved me. But everyone knows there's a difference between loving somebody and being IN love with somebody. That was fairly obvious. And I SHOULD have just accepted that, I really should have. But because I'm me, I HAD to dig myself into an even deeper rut.

"That's…not exactly what I mean," I whispered, still staring at the ground. HOLY FUCKING HELL I WAS GONNA SAY IT!

Ringo cocked his head curiously. "I don't get it…"

I squeezed my eyes shut, scared to tell the truth for once in my life. "Here's the thing…well, I think-I mean to say that…"

"Spit it out."

"I'm in love with you." I didn't open my eyes for a solid moment, my teeth chomping down on my lower lip painfully. Ringo didn't say a word, and my heart seemed to be beating at an inhumanly fast pace.

I opened my eyes slowly, not even realizing I was holding my breath. His face was completely blank, as though he couldn't decide on what emotion to portray, so he just didn't choose any. It was not helping.

"Ringo?" I asked quietly, afraid of his response.

"What?" The word came out cold, meaningless, as though he didn't wish to speak it at all. My heart rate went up a few notches. What did that tone mean?

"S-Say something!"

He looked down, then lifted his eyes so that they were focused over my shoulder. "What do you want me to say?"

I cringed. Shit! I was so stupid! "Well, if the obvious answer doesn't come to mind, then maybe…"

Ringo stopped his drumming, looking me straight in the eye. "What do you want me to say?" he repeated, angry lines crossing his face. "That I'm in love with you, too?"

"That would be nice," I mumbled, looking down.

"Well, I can't do that."

I bit my trembling lip. "Say it, then. If that's what it's gonna be; say it."

He put his hands over his face, rubbing at it tiredly. "I don't wanna…hurt your feelings or anything."

Ouch. The pity was worse than the rejection. If I was some other girl, I'd go hide under a rock right now and forget this ever happened. But, obviously, I wasn't. I wasn't about to let it go with a fight.

"I don't think you understand," I told him, frowning.

"No? Then enlighten me." He was staring at me, his eyes hard and cold and not inviting. I took a deep breath.

"When I first came here, I didn't know what to think. I mean, the Beatles? Crazy stuff, man. And through it all…I don't know, I guess we sorta became friends, right?" I waited for him to nod before I continued. "And then…you punched Chuck for me." He grimaced, as though he was regretting that.

"Yeah, but that was what a friend would do. FRIEND."

That stung. But I continued on, determined. "And then…well, you kissed me."

Ringo held up a hand in my face. "Hold on, hold on. I know for a fact that I did NOT kiss you. For. A. Fact."

I rolled my eyes. "You were drunk out of your mind. You don't know shit."

He looked as though he didn't know what to say to this. Because what DO you say to that? He didn't know what he did, so it was hardly his fault. Well, the getting drunk part was definitely his part. But still.

"I…" He frowned. "I don't know think you realize what you're saying."

I took a deep breath, ready to spill. "Ringo…I am so desperately in love with you that it's hurting me. To see you with Bonnie and those other girls...that's an indescribable pain. But I can get through that, because every time I see you I think about how hard you can make me laugh, how much you make me smile every time I'm around you. And I love that, because no other person has that power. And then there's the fact that when I'm with you, sometimes I feel so strongly that it can't even be put into words. And that's when I can talk to you without saying anything at all." I looked up at him with wide eyes (as far as the fucking squinty bastards would go, that is). "And I KNOW what I'm saying. Because believe me, I've thought about it."

He stared at me, some emotion creeping onto his face. I couldn't exactly put a name to it yet, as I didn't exactly know what to call it. And to my whole entire speech, the only thing he had to say was: "So you cut your hair because of me, right?"

I blushed scarlet, wanting nothing more to lower my gaze in shame. But I held my ground. "Yes."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "You're a silly little girl, you know that?"

My mouth dropped open. "I'm not SILLY! And I'm not little either."

"Yes, you are. You think you know what you're talking about…well you don't. And I'm not saying I'm an expert on these matters, but I can tell you one thing: love never ends well. Because it always ends. So my advice? Just get the hell outta here and stop it. Because life will be better for both of us that way. Trust me."

My jaw started to shake uncontrollably and tears started streaming out of my eyes. "That's not FAIR!" I realized what that emotion on his face was. It was disgust. He was disgusted by me. And he didn't love me; he never would. "I know what I'm talking about, God damn it! YOU don't know. And I don't care if it ends badly, I just don't care. Please, Ringo. Please!"

He turned around, heading towards the recording booth where people were probably watching us. "I'm sorry, A.J. But please stop bothering me with your silly teenage woes."

Inside of me, something broke. Clean in half. His words stung more than salt water on an open cut. Once again, my tears were hitting me hard, making my chest heave and my breathing heavy. He didn't love me…he didn't love me…. Those words just kept circling through my mind.

I had to get out of there.

I took off at the speed of light, zipping through the near empty corridors and out into the street. For the first time in a while, it wasn't raining. Though it was still a little bit cold, and I didn't have a jacket on. My feet pounded barefoot against the pavement, my hair whipping behind me and biting at my neck. The tears that before had shook my entire body were lessening as I focused on getting home, and getting there fast.

I came to a sudden halt right outside the house. Was there anybody home? Just as I was thinking this, a girl walked out of the house, buttoning her coat and smoothing her hair down as she went. She gave me a confused smile and brushed past me. Okay, definite sign that at least ONE boy was home.

I ran inside, slamming the door closed to announce my presence. Nobody in the house stirred. So I went to the first place that I could think of, the first person that would help me.

BAM, BAM, BAM! I pounded on Paul's door, hoping to God it wouldn't be another Ringo scene. But I heard him call out seconds later. "Come in!"

I opened the door, revealing a shirtless Paul McCartney. So, I know I was kinda done with the whole crush on Paul thing, but…God damn. That boy had it going ON! I stepped into the room, and all of a sudden my tears started gushing a full force again.

"A.J.? What's the matter?" He sat up on his bed, obviously concerned. I thanked God briefly that I hadn't left the studio seconds earlier, because then I probably would have walked in on him putting some pants on. And you KNOW I didn't want to see that.

"He…I…" I shuffled over to the bed, completely gone by then. My face must have been splotchy as hell, and my eyes were probably dark red. Paul put his arms out, and I gratefully climbed onto the bed and let him wrap them around me.

"Shhh…it's okay…"

He leaned back, and I rested my head on his bare chest. I didn't know what to say, so I just kept crying. After a few minutes, his hands started stroking my hair. "Tell me what happened," he requested.

And so I did. I told him everything. Everything I said and did, and everything Ringo said back to me. And I would like to say that I felt better after getting that off my chest, but I didn't. If anything I felt more miserable because TELLING someone about made it feel realer.

After I was finished, I just laid there, hardly able to breathe. It just hurt so bad. "Listen to me," Paul whispered. I tilted my head up to look at him. "Sometimes people say things they don't mean when they're under pressure." He hesitated. "And…sometimes things don't work out how we want them to."

I nodded, unable to say anything. Crying fucking sucked.

"And no matter what," he continued, "you just have to know that you are beautiful, smart, hilarious, and just…great. And I know that he thinks that, too. Give it some time; soon he'll see what the rest of us see."

That was probably just about the sweetest thing anybody had ever said to me. And for a while, we just stayed like that; Paul running his fingers though my hair, my head on his chest, nothing said. And I started to calm down.

During this time, my thoughts that had been in such a frenzy before had slowed down. And only one thing kept running through my mind. "I can't stay here," I murmured after a long time.

"What do you mean?" Even though I wasn't looking at him, I could hear the frown in Paul's voice.

"I-I can't looked at him anymore. I have to go."

Paul's hands stopped, and for a second I thought he was gonna yell at me or something. "You have to?"

"I think so."

"Do you THINK so or do you KNOW so?"

"I…I know so."

It was hours later. Ringo hadn't come home yet, but George and John had long since returned. Needless to say, Paul had told them immediately of my decision. John said absolutely nothing (as was his usual reaction to things nowadays), but George had started protesting immediately. I didn't budge though; I had made my decision.

I figured that I didn't need to take anything with me. I mean, I was just going home after all. I walked into the living room, only to find the boys standing in a row, three solemn faces.

I sighed. Here came the hard part; goodbye. I was walked over to the first boy, who was standing tall and thin, his features determinedly blank.

"George," I began, "I'm gonna miss you so freaking much." And then he melted, his face becoming deeply saddened. I felt so bad. "You're so much like me in all the best ways, and you'll forever be like a brother to me."

He cleared his throat. "Don't forget me, okay?" he mumbled, looking down shyly.

"How the fuck could I forget you?"

He grinned, but didn't say anything. "Promise me you'll be good and quit smoking." I held out my pinky. He laughed, wrapping his own around mine. It brought back memories of the first time George had made me pinky promise. Good times.

"I promise."

I nodded, then moved on to the next one. Paul was blinking back tears, his big, round hazel eyes looking glassy.

"Well…bye then."

He smiled. "Oh, you've always had a way with words, Miss A.J."

I grinned back. "Ah, but not as much as you, Mister Paul."

His face fell slightly. "I wish you would stay."

I nodded wistfully. "Me, too."

There seemed to be nothing more to say, so he pulled me forward, squeezing his eyes shut and kissing my forehead. "Watch your mouth now," he warned playfully.

"Never," I said back. Then I smiled and moved on to my last target.

For a second, me and John just looked at each other. It would be a God damned lie to say that I wouldn't miss him, that my hear wouldn't ache for him just as it did the others. But what was there to say to a man who you insisted that you hated for years? How did you say goodbye to someone that you should never have to say goodbye to in the first place?

Without thinking, I rushed forward, wrapping my arms around his neck and hugging the hell out of him. My eyes shut tightly, and I held my breath, hoping to God that I would never let go. After a second, his arms wrapped around me, too. Paul and George watched in shock.

"I'm sorry that I was so horrible to you," he whispered in my ear.

"Ditto."

I let go of him, and he cleared his throat gruffly. "Well, er, do you think you could do me a favor?"

I nodded slowly, wondering just what he would want. "If I can."

"Tell Maggie that I love her. And that I'm so fucking sorry for what happened."

His words wrenched my heart out. If only he knew what Maggie Mae was like now. If only he knew. But I agreed to do it anyways. "Of course." His words reminded me of something. "You know, my friend Addie was always telling me how much she loved you, and how sexy she thought you were." John raised his eyebrows. "I mean, she was obviously delusional, but the point is that she always said that underneath all of that…asshole man-whore shit, you were a good person. And you know, I think she was right."

John cocked his head. "Uh…thank you?"

I laughed and nodded. "Any time."

Something in his face clouded over, and suddenly his voice was a whisper. "Please don't leave."

This struck something in me. John, my sworn enemy, didn't want me gone. "I…I have to. You know that."

John bit his lip. "Yeah, but…you're the only family I have left. And you remind me so much of Her." His voice started to crack near the end, and I could tell that he was holding back emotion.

My eyes started to tear up again, if only because of John's hurt. "I'm so sorry."

"Stay," he ordered, "for me."

My tears started coming at full force now. "I can't. I honestly can't. I have to go home. There's my family and Des and my friends and my LIFE. I can't just ignore it! And then-"

John cut me off. "Ringo doesn't matter!"

"He doesn't want me, John! He told me to LEAVE!" I took a few steps back. George and Paul were watching us as though it was a scene from a movie or something. I was starting to remember now. The calmness that Paul had installed was losing its grip.

"But we love you, and we want you to stay!"

It wasn't enough. It was never enough. There was only one person that I wanted to say these words for me, and he already told me that it would never be. "I'm sorry…I have to go now."

I turned around, unable to take one more second of their tortured faces. Of all the different emotions clouding my mind, one was stronger than the others: my want to get to Papa's house.

George came to the door. "A.J.!" he bellowed, his eyes searching for me in the near darkness.

But I was already gone.

FUCK did this take me a long time to finish. Man oh man! And now I have a raging headache. Don't worry, there are two more chapters after this one. And the next one has been written for about a month, so you don't have to worry about waiting for that one for forever. God am I pissed at Ringo right now. I guess I shouldn't be, since I'm the one that made him say those things but…OH WELL! I gotta go or else I'll talk forever, so REVIEW!