I Learnt To Love In Liverpool | George Harrison ✅

♥ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 ♥

I scrambled up the stairs and to mine and Paul's room. When I got in, I saw my brother asleep in his bed, his breathing shallow and his snores very quiet compared to how loud they usually were.

I assumed it would be safe to get changed because he wouldn't wake up, so I quickly undid the buttons on the front of my dress and stripped it off, pulling one of Paul's shirts on over the top because I was too lazy to root around in the darkness for my pyjamas, which I had thrown off earlier that morning in a rush to get to school - and to meet George downstairs.

"So?" Paul sat bolt upright and I shrieked in surprise. He chuckled and reached over to his bedside table, switching the little lamp on.

"Paul!" I hissed. "You can't do that!"

"Why not?" He asked me. "I waited until after you were changed to turn on the light, so it's fine, right?"

"You scared the living shit out of me!" He chuckled. "It's not funny! You could have done some serious damage - what if I fell over and hit my head, or something?"

"I'd have laughed, then got up to check if you were okay, and then once I found that you were overreacting, I'd have laughed some more. Then I'd probably tell dad that you might have a concussion."

I scowled at him.

He patted the bed beside him and I sighed. I crossed my arms against my chest, but my brother pouted, giving me puppy dog eyes. I hated him for having such gorgeous eyes, because he always got what he wanted as a result.

I sighed again and got into the bed beside him. He pulled the covers over me and then used his arm to prop himself up. "So?" He stared at me in the dim light provided by the lamp.

"So what?"

"Did you lose it?"

"Ew, Paul!" I exclaimed, "gross!" I paused, "and that's none of your business, anyway -"

"Ah ha!" He yelled, "so you did!"

Dad called up the stairs, "you two need to go to bed, or you won't be able to get up for school!"

"Going now, dad!" Paul and I chorused back. I switched the lamp off and settled down beside Paul.

"Did you really lose it, Em?" Paul asked me more quietly as he wriggled around next to me to get comfortable.

"No, Paul -"

"Would you lie to me?" He asked me, still suspicious as to whether or not I was telling the truth.

"Probably not."

My stomach rumbled and there was a knock at the door at the same time. Paul and I both sat up, and my brother reached behind me to switch on the light.

"Can I come in?" It was dad, and he had pushed the door open a little but was waiting for our permission to enter.

We nodded, and Paul spoke, "sure, dad."

Dad came into the room and was holding a plate of chicken and mash with broccoli in one hand. He sat on the edge of Paul's bed, which we were both in.

"You hungry, Em?" He asked me. I nodded. "I know I said that you need to go to sleep, but I didn't want you to starve. Just eat and then leave the plate on the floor and bring it down in the morning." He kissed my forehead, "night, baby. Night, Paulie."

He hadn't called me that before, but I loved it. It made me feel even more loved than I did usually. Paul and dad and Mike had done so much to accommodate me, and I would be forever grateful to them.

"Night, dad." We chorused and then dad left, and I dug into my dinner using the cutlery which dad had bought up on the plate.

"It's rare he lets anyone eat upstairs, so you'd better enjoy it while it lasts." Paul told me as he nicked a piece of chicken. I giggled and tried to take it back from him, but I didn't mind much. The less I ate, the less weight I would gain, and the better I would look for George.

When I had finished - and Paul had eaten almost as much of my dinner as I had - I put the plate down onto the floor and pushed it under the bed so we wouldn't tread on it when we got up the next morning. I laid back down and Paul turned off the light.

"Night, Paulie."

"Night, Em." He wrapped his arms around me and I sighed in delight.

This was family.

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