RUNAWAY || G.H

v, Sob Story!

Streaks of light blared over his fluttering eyes, blinding the velvet-brown and forcing him to hiss in pain. George sprawled beneath his duvet as stiff as a board― his bed-sheets had been tousled and one of his pillows had been tossed onto his rug.

Never before had he never understood how someone could be so sad over a girl, of all things, a girl. Those film-noires his mother would watch had never struck him so deeply before, when the suited men would sing and waltz and weep over a woman they had just met. Yet now, he found himself so sorrowful, so dejected, so pathetic all because of Juliet. It had been exactly twenty-nine days since he last saw Julie, and yes he had been counting, it had been twenty-nine days since they had finally kissed. Twenty-nine days since she was in his embrace, since he had heard that ever-so familiar laugh, since he saw those glittering, blue eyes, the same blue eyes that he felt so drawn to on that day they first met in Hamburg; the list was endless. . . George had even attempted to phone the Smith-Lennon household, his mother's distressed eyes following his movements as he dialled the telephone in the kitchen, yet each time it had been Mimi's voice he had heard sounding through the receiver. George would quickly hang up after he heard her, frustration and misery trailing him as he would brood back up to his bedroom.

Juliet's abrupt absence had greatly faulted his mood― even the band had begun noticing  his quick-temper and crossness― his family had taken to speaking to him more softly, Peter bringing home more of his favourite treats from the old sweet shop down the road, Harry coming over more often, Lou phoning from America each night. His edginess had worn his mother the most, however. On Christmas she had been so sad, watching behind barely-concealed teariness as he hadn't even tugged up a smile at the sight of the dinner she set before him, he could practically sense his fathers disappointed glare.

And now it was New Year's Eve, the light blinding him, the cold infiltrating his duvet, Juliet having been gone for almost a full month. George had never been a religious boy, despite his father's best efforts, and yet he found himself praying for a sign that Julie would return. That he wasn't alone in his despair, and all of a sudden his ears were met with that awful sound of chuckling, stomping and utter agony.