Imagines

Ringo Starr #1

You hug your coat closer to your chest as you hurry along the busy London streets. Your day had been going well until your usual ride had to go home ill and you were left to fend the cold city by yourself. You'd had a long day and couldn't wait to get home, change into more comfortable clothing, and listen to the radio by a nice, warm fire.

Snow whips in your face as you hurry along, your busy mind distracting you from all of the pedestrians who were too fighting their way along on the streets and sidewalks. However, you soon begin to hear something among all of the hustle. It sounded like...music?

You stop in your tracks, ears straining to make out the sound. The now annoyed pedestrians push past you and grumble under their breath about wanting to get home, but you ignore them. Your eyes scan your crowded surroundings and you eventually find the source of the sound.

From across the street, you can somehow make out a young man singing and playing the guitar. As you make your way closer, you're able to make him out more clearly. He looks about twenty, which was two years older than yourself, and he had chin-length dark hair. His eyes make contact with yours and you're able to make them out...they're a piercing blue.

He's singing a song that's unfamiliar to you, but you spot a tin can by his feet and bend down to toss in most of the spare money that you'd been carrying with you. As you stand up again, the music stops. You look up just to see him smile at you.

"Thank you, love. I appreciate it." His voice is deep. You smile back at him and it's as if you've suddenly forgotten about the ice and cold.

"You're really good. Have you been playing the guitar long?" You instantly feel embarrassed. Your response sounds so...lame.

"Oh, this old thing?" He looks down, blushing and chuckling nervously. "To be honest with ya, I'm much better at playing the drums. But I can't really drag a drumset around the streets of London quite as easily."

You nod and look down at his can, surprised to see that it's only filled just a bit. You'd expected it to be filled to the very brim. "Is this your job? Are you a musician?"

"I guess you could say that." The man, whose name you still don't know, chuckles again. "I'm twenty, but my father left my mum and I a couple years ago and my mum got sick towards the end of last year so I'm currently living with her. I own a drumset at home, but this is easier to earn money with, since she's still bedridden."

It's currently mid-January, so you figure that she's been ill about a month now. "So there anything I could do to help?"

"No, no. Thank you love, but I wouldn't want you to be bothered with the troubles of a stranger you've just met. I shouldn't be telling you my life story anyway." He smiles at you again, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You politely smile back, but you still insist.

"I want to help. What's your name? Come back to my loft with me and I can get you a few things."

For all you know, this man could be a mugger or drug dealer and you had no clue why you were inviting him back to your home. But, as you looked at his smiling face and pretty blue eyes...you couldn't resist.

"Ah, thank you." You can easily tell that he's only saying so for your benefit, but you're pleased that he's going along with it anyway. "Most people just call me Ringo. Ringo Starr."

"Marina Green," you respond. Ringo surprises you by setting down his guitar and taking your hand. You feel a hot blush creep on your cheeks as he kisses the back of your hand before letting you go.

"Thank you," he says again, sounding like he genuinely means it this time. You give yourself a minute for the blush to go away and you hope that he thinks that it was just a result of the cold wind hitting your cheeks. Finally, you answer him.

"My place is just a ten minute walk from here. I usually have a ride, but they had to cancel," you explain. He nods before picking up his stuff and following you.

Eventually, the two of you get back to your loft and you lead him inside. He sets his stuff down by the door as you head into the kitchen, rummaging through some spare cans of food.

"You really don't have to give me all this you know. My mum's just sick, I'm not homeless," he teases as you hand him a bag with a few cans of food in it.

"Nonsense. Just think of it as a late holiday present." You tell him. "I'll be right back, I've got some spare money I can give you."

To your surprise, he speaks up before you can disappear into another room. "You're being awful nonchalant about all this. How do you know I'm not some mugger?" He teases. You turn to face him just in time to see him wink.

Him winking at you catches you offguard and you stand frozen for a minute, gawking at him. He laughs at your expression as you shake your head, blushing again.

"Well, if you are a mugger, then it's better I willingly give up the money isn't it?" You force a laugh and attempt to tease back, hoping that he hasn't realized that you find him very–extremely–attractive.

You go into your bedroom to find your collection of money. You take a decent portion of it before walking back out into the entryway, where you find Ringo writing something on a slip of paper.

"What's that?" You ask as you hand him the change. His response makes you gasp.

"My telephone number. Ring me sometime?" He asks, giving you the paper. You look down to see that it is indeed his number.

"Um...s-sure," you answer, and this time you can't hide your blush from him. You try looking away, but Ringo places his fingers under your chin and the two of you make eye contact, just like earlier on the street.

"I've got to go," your heart stops as he places a soft, tender kiss upon your lips. "I'll see you again sometime?"

You nod weakly as he pulls away. "Y-Yes. Y-Yes, I'd like that."

He gives you one, final smile as he opens your door, his guitar and the bag you gave him in hand.

"Good, I look forward to it. Until then...Good evening, Marina."