âmes pétillantes ~ classic rock imagines

• George Harrison (Part I) •

Hello! I'd like to say thank you for the support on this book recently - over 3 thousand views already! Here's a bit of George to say thank you!

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The rain beat a steady rhythm against the large window that you were currently staring dreamily out of, your work lying abandoned on the desk in front of you. Being the partner of a Beatle afforded you many privileges, including, but certainly not limited to, a significantly reduced need to slave away for money and an increased amount of available time to watch as the pure English rain decorated the landscape that you and George so adored.

You were a writer and had been scribbling down stories ever since you'd learnt how to hold a pen properly. But a teenager living on the poorer side of Liverpool had as much chance of making it as a successful writer as England did winning the world cup.

Then you met Richard Starkey, with a ring on each of his fingers, a twinkle in his drooping eyes and a semi-successful band. Your chance meeting in the queue for a bathroom at the back of a dingy underground club seemed like nothing particularly special at the time. But as Richie and his band grew in popularity, you began bumping into him in more respectable venues around Liverpool, until you were there by his invitation.

Richie excitedly confessed to you that he was sure Rory Storm & the Hurricanes were going to make it big a few months into this mystical friendship, not long before they went off on a well anticipated trip to Hamburg. It was there that he got to know a little group called the Beatles. The Liverpudlian band had been on Richie's radar for several months, but they weren't quite popular enough yet to be deemed competition.

However, those four young boys soon became a fixture on some of the more popular bills around Liverpool, and three of them were often found skulking around the Hurricanes' audience. John, Paul and George.

It was in one such audience that the three now-familiar faces approached you. Being an acquaintance of the Hurricanes seemed to suggest that the Beatles could encourage you to dish out the dirt on them and other rival bands. However, you always rolled the young boys' suave attempts to unseal your lips straight back at them with friendly ripostes that could almost make John Lennon trip over his own tongue.

Yet, that night, John wasted no time in prying at your perceived state of 'Ringo' and the band, while Paul slipped onto the bar stool beside you and easily motioned over the young barmaid. George remained at John's side, focusing adamantly on the stage, where Rory Storm and the Hurricanes were causing a stir reminiscent of their name.

John continued to ply you with questions that subtlety had nightmares about, but you were well prepared to rebut him until he gave it up as a bad job. Huffing out a breath, John shoved the poor kid sitting on the other side of you off his stool and collapsed onto it himself. "You" he pointed at you with a sly grin "are more trouble than you're worth."

With a smug shrug of your shoulders, you took a sip of your drink and said nothing, quickly being pushed out of John's attention in favour of the bar maid who was still reeling from her encounter with Paul.

For a few moments, you sat there fiddling with your drink and biting back laughter as John and Paul shared amused glances over your head at their attempts to reel the bar maid's attention back. Unfortunately, their rise to fame around town came with a decline in reputation that some girls didn't approve of, much to the boys' chagrin, and they often made it their mission to woo disapproving opponents simply for fun.

You failed to notice George standing beside John, wide eyes dodging between the spotlights shimmering through the glass bottles behind the bar and the reflection it cast across the soft expanse of your hair, the insides of his cheeks subconsciously clenched between his teeth, his empty hands twitching to grasp a cigarette that would calm his nerves.