ℙ𝔸𝕀ℕ ⇒ 𝕁𝕆ℍℕ 𝕃𝔼ℕℕ𝕆ℕ

⋄ ⅩⅩⅩⅠ ⋄

❝𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖊𝖊𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖜𝖔 𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖎𝖘 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖈𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖜𝖔 𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖒𝖎𝖈𝖆𝖑 𝖘𝖚𝖇𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊𝖘: 𝖎𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖎𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖞 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓, 𝖇𝖔𝖙𝖍 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖉,❞

...

| December 2nd, 1964 |

5:05 pm

Charlotte's POV

It was time for John, George, Ringo, and Charlotte to start heading home. Paul was nowhere to be found, he most likely was already at his place, so they didn't bother to search for him.

"Wanna come back to my place?" George nervously asked when John and Ringo were preoccupied with eyeing girls up and down.

"Are you asking me if I want to have a sleepover with you?" Charlotte chuckled, teasing George.

"Yeah," George laughed, but like the flick of a light switch, his eyes grew dark. "We can do more than just 'have a sleepover'~,"

"Sure, let's just get through the day first," She smiled, lightly putting her hands on his jawline and pulling him closer for a kiss.

John imitated the sound of someone throwing up loudly, making a disgusted face.

"Get yer bloody hands off each other ya wankers!" He bellowed.

Charlotte removed one of her hands from George's cheek and flipped John off. He snickered and swiveled on his feet, continuing his conversation with Ringo.

"Come ed', let's go home," George whispered in her ear.

...

Charlotte and George entered the house and slumped over onto the couch, staring at each other.

"What should we do?" George asked, checking the watch that wrapped around his wrist.

"Hmmm I don't know," She breathed, laying onto his lap and gazing up at his dark, hooded eyes.

"It's getting pretty chilly, yeah?" George ran his fingers through her hair.

Charlotte mumbled an incoherent 'yes' and shut her eyes, nearly falling asleep if it wasn't for the abrupt loud banging on George's door.

George carefully lifted her head off of his lap and walked to the front door to look through the obscure side-light. A foggy figure stood at his doorstep, frantically looking around, it appeared the man was about 5'10" and quite stocky.

George hesitantly opened the door and recognized the man immediately.

John was leaning up against the wall with a large bruise on his cheek, two cuts on his face, and open gashes on his knuckles. Blood dribbled from his nose and onto his small lips, as well as from his forehead.

"John," George gasped stepping back to observe his friend's physical state.

"I... got...into a... bar fight," John croaked, clutching his waist with both hands.

"Come in," George slung John's arm over his shoulder and walked him into the bathroom, passing Charlotte on the way.

They made brief eye contact, but it felt as if they had an entire conversation. Charlotte jumped up and hurried after them, watching George carefully lowering his body onto the counter. John sighed, leaning onto the bathroom wall against him.