How about some angst with Paula caught John cheating on her? (Sorry for being an ass ๐
)
[ Real talk I hate angst but here we go ]
The last time Paula felt this sort of pain, so bone deep that she thought she might die of it, was when her mother passed away.
"Paula, look I-- I'm sorry alright?"
"Don't! Fucking touch me," Paula snapped, jerking away from John's attempts in holding her. Holding onto her. The words came out strangled, strained, as she tried to sound coherent despite sobbing. That in itself was humiliating to her-- the whole situation was. "Y-you've no right! No, no right t'touch me e-ever again!"
John looked struck-- good, is all Paula could think as she turned away. Let the bastard be hurt, it'd only serve him right, after what he'd done.
When the scene replays in her minds eye, another sob rips itself out of her. She felt like she was drowning, like if she threw up all that would come up was black tar sorrow and pain.
She headed for the closet of their hotel room. God, not only could George and Ringo most definitely hear (less they decided to beat it) the whole bloody floor must hear her, hear them. That only adds to the embarrassment of it all. She started pulling clothes down. Heard John from where he was still standing, watching, "What are you doing?"
"I'm, I'm goin' home," she forced out, hiccuping and feeling like such a child, and now all she wanted to do was get away and go someplace safe, familiar. John and this hotel room was not it, not anymore. Turning and heading towards the bed, John moved, try reaching out only for Paula to quickly avoid him. "You can't," is all he could really say, and when she looked up she saw a face tense with fear, remorse, frustration.
Throwing the clothes on the bed, she crouched down to retrieve one of her suitcases under it. "I'm goin' home," she repeated, louder, trying to sound firm through the hiccups of breath and rolling sobs. "Damn you, d-damn the concert, damn Brian, damn-- damn you!" She screamed, standing up so sudden and hitting the suitcase on the bed, rightfully startling John as she turned on him.
Slender hands coming up to wipe away the tears, but quickly they were replaced. "Why?" She demanded, eyes full of hurt, and something John never wanted to see being directed at him, from her. She didn't give him a chance to respond, "W-was I not, not enough?" John's mouth opens, but again he's cut off as Paula throws her head back in a mirthless, wrecked laugh. "No, if you had t-to get your dick sucked-" her chest lurched with pain, the acknowledgement of it out loud almost too much for her. She almost bent in half as another wail was wrenched from her. Gasping for air, she forced herself to continue, "-by, by some blonde slag, I guess I'm, I wasn't enough!"
John simply shrank into himself, though he tried answering, saying she's wrong, that's wrong. But Paula continued on as if she didn't hear him; "She good, Johnny? Stroke yer ego, that it? Oh ho ho, big man." Paula felt at war with herself-- feeling right for biting into John, but also tearing herself apart in the process. And John, well, he looked like a kicked dog, humiliated and guilty, mouth opening and closing as if he can't find the right words to combat her with, only managing a strained, choked, "Paula."
"Tell me, John, tell me th-there weren't others, others I don't... I didn't know," that got John furrowing his brow, standing a bit taller now, "There weren't--"
Paula let out something akin to a breathless huff of laughter, disbelieving. It only stoked John's temper, though he really had no right to be losing it.
"Yes!" She snapped, stepping back when John moved towards her. He was nothing more than a blur to her, blinking away tears to try and see but they just kept coming. She felt another wave of pain crash into her, turning to start packing, or trying too. "I don't, I can't tell what's not a lie anymore," she cried, having to stop and brace herself against the inside of the suitcase, face pinching as a sob rattled through her. Did he really love her? Was that all a lie? Was this, all a lie?
She jumped under the gentle touch to her shoulder, though she did not move. She couldn't, the pain of heartbreak was excruciating. "Paula, please," John's voice sounded changed, pitched and funny, like he was holding back something. She didn't dare move to look at him, she can't bear the sight of him as the scene plays out again. "Don't, don't leave, I, I know I hurt you and, made the biggest bloody mistake." That's when Paula forced herself to turn her head, force her eyes open, and see him. "A mistake?" She breathed, confused sounding now, sniffling, hiccuping.
John nodded, the hand on her shoulder squeezing, and soon she's finding herself being turned to fully face him, hands still grasping a dress of hers. Both hands on her shoulders now, and as they stared at each other, Paula noticed dampness forming under John's eyes. "Please, don't leave me," he was begging now, on the verge of crying, "I love you."
For a moment, all the woman could do was stare, tears rolling down her sodden cheeks, sniffling. And for a moment, there's hope in John, that she hadn't closed off entirely from him.
But then she's stepping away, shrugging him off, shaking her head and closing her eyes, biting her lip to try and muffle the sound. John just let's his arms fall limp at his sides.
When the sob passed, and taking a deep breath, Paula opened her eyes, swollen, red, and so beautiful. "I'm going," turning back to the suitcase, stuffing the last of what she cared to bring-- fuck everything else right now-- she worked to quickly shut it. All the while, John is whispering please, please don't, please. Paula is deaf to it.
Though, the last act, is what starts John spiraling. Her pausing, hands over the dark suitcase, as if she'd noticed something. And as John looked down, down at her hands, so familiar and talented, hands he'd hold and kiss when he felt as if he could get away with it. The golden ring on her right hand-- and then he realized.
Turning away so her back was to him, her shoulders shuddering as she cried, Paula slid the golden band off her ring finger, and quietly placed it on the bedside table.
