Unfinished Business

Esther pt 1 (George x OC)

The first time he caught sight of her, she was sitting in a corner away from the drunk sailors and harlots that frequented the place.

She seemed too young to be anywhere near the club, not to say the Reeperbahn, but then again so was he. Her hair curled at her cheeks, framing her face nicely, and she kept looking at the stage, at the band, moving her head along to the beat.

He stared at her, perhaps too intensely. As soon as she caught sight of his eyes over her, she shrunk on herself, packed her little notebook, and beelined for the exit among the sea of intoxicated people.

'Way to go, George', he thought bitterly to himself, following the silhouette of her lavender cardigan with his eyes.

She was around a couple days later, in a blue cardigan and matching skirt this time. Even her nice little hairband matched. George thought she looked a little bit like a doll, out of place on the sea of nastiness she currently navigated, trying to find a secluded spot to watch and maybe not be watched from.

He could tell she wanted to dance, and his hands itched with the desire to ask her for a piece, but alas, he was the one providing the music, and she seemed too busy with her neverending taking of notes.

The third time, she showed up unusually early. Her round figure carried with dificulty an odd structure, she tumbled among the empty stools as she tried to find a spot for... Whatever contraption she was carrying.

George immediately lent his guitar to Paul and went to help her, not wishing to waste a chance, and at the same time awfully curious.

He could hear the lads cackle behind his back, shouting all sorts of mocking and encouragement, and his only hope was that she didn't spoke enough english to understand them.

As the little lady kicked open the structure, he approached her as casually as possible, and greeted her in wonky german.

She jumped in surprise, clearly not expecting to be disrupted, and he quickly apologized. She stuttered for him not to worry, not looking up from what he now recognized as a camera tripod.

So, a photographer, he smiled at her. She corrected him, saying she was a journalist, reporteering shows and cultural events.

That explained a lot, he shrugged, ever so slightly upset at himself for believing she wanted more from them, from him, than just a story to tell.

Esther, was her name. It etched itself onto his mind, alongside with her appearance. Warm brown eyes, soft thick lips, big eyebrows and round cheeks.

She hid her hands in her pockets when nervous and constantly tucked her hair behind her ears. Her mouth was rosy-colored and so very inviting, when she smiled and when she frowned and when she looked away and back up at him.

Eventually John and Paul had to come and drag him by the ears into the stage. The bar had started filling up and he didn't even noticed, lost in the cardigan-wearing girl and her general softness.

His friends laughed and teased, muttering awful things he kept elbowing them for.

Esther. Esther. Esther Holt. 'Esther Harrison', his mind suggested and he immediately shut it down. What was he even thinking?!

From his spot, off center to the right on the stage, he studied her throughout the show. She had finished assembling her machinery and pointed the camera towards them, capturing John and Paul's energy, Stuart and Pete's aloofness, and his very own nervousness mixed with false indifference. He smiled, though. The thought of her printing those pictures later for her work, maybe secretly keeping one or two, made him want to look his best, play his best.

Dammit, he wanted to impress her so badly...

She stopped showing up eventually. Two weeks straight and no sight of his soft lady, it made George sad to think she'd gotten the note and the pictures and now she wouldn't be around no more.

John and Paul kept pestering him, saying that a bird like that would snap him in half and crap of the sort.

In the end it would be Stuart the one to give him a clue. He knew through his girlfriend, who knew through a friend of hers, that his elusive lady worked at a small newspaper around the nicer area of Hamburg, across the city. She worked in the early mornings there, reporteered late at night, and rested and settled her affairs mid-day.

So obviously George groomed himself neat, picked up a nice box of truffles and made his way across the city on three different buses, towards the general area he was told he would find her in.

She was just walking outside a café when he spotted her, seemed surprised to see him there, in a bad way.

Her face paled and she started shaking all over, fidgeting with a pen and looking around everywhere for an escape route.

George immediately wondered if he'd gone too far, if he was scaring her, if maybe he should've ditched the leather jacket for one of Paul's jumpers.

He could barely speak as he awkwardly staggered towards her and presented the box. His mouth poured a bunch of muttered apologies, and he was so damn embarassed he wanted to run away and never look back.

Esther accepted the gift and smiled, her voice forming a sweet 'thank you' that instantly eased him. As he looked up to her, she stepped on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his.

George was late to the first show of the night, which had everyone sort of on-edge. Stuart kept worrying he'd run into trouble, being the only one who knew where the loverboy had gone to.

The backdoor slammed open and in there he walked, hair a mess, lips stained pink and reeking of ink and flowery perfume.

Paul was immediately over him, but all the boy could do was smile and stare off into space, the idea of a new melody itching at the tips of his fingers.