His eyes. His nose. His playing of the drums. His warmth. Those words were basically the motto of George Harrison.
It was 1965, and the Beatles would have the biggest gig tonight. George was in the room, playing Twist and Shout. He had to perfect the solo, or he'd never go anywhere. And yet, he couldn't concentrate because of a man in the room.
No, it wasn't the gitiness of John Lennon or the sassy antics of Paul McCartney. It was Ritchie.
He instantly licked his lips as he watched Ringo move his drumsticks to the side as he did a drum fill. Then, he heard shouting.
"George, George!" John cut George's staring at Ringo. "You're supposed to do the solo, remember?"
"Oh, yeah. God, sorry."
"Sonuvab***h, too lazy to do even a short and simple solo," he muttered to himself slowly.
...
"This is it, guys. Do NOT mess up, or I'll f***ing kill you. Especially you, George."
John stared at George with a death stare that would make anyone looking at him nervous.
"What is up with him? If he was a girl, he'd be on his period," Paul whispered to George.
The youngest lad simply sighed. And he looked at Ringo. And oops, he started thinking about those queer thoughts again. They're just random little thoughts. Not true. You'll simply grow out of it. You'll get punished for being queer! You like women.
It felt like he was fighting himself. He was now lost in thought. Do I stop the queer stuff? Do I continue? Will Ringo even accept the fact that I love him?
But them screaming fans gave him a reality check. You gotta do this. The stadium's packed with people who mostly devoted their time and effort to listen to you. Just to see you play your guitar.
So he got out in the field. Girls were already hyperventilating. Heck, there were guards with them, and the barricade that separated him & the band and the audience.
...
Ringo felt weird. Kissing a man? Not his type. But he was gonna do it anyway.
Frick you, John and Paul, he said to himself. His soon-to-be confession was a bit from the dare set by McLennon, but mostly because of emotion.
"Boys! Get ready! Our biggest show yet!" the voice of Brian snapped him back to reality.
He and the band scurried away from the privacy and comfort of backstage. "Introducing, the Beatles!" Ed Sullivan. It was too late. No more confessing for now. Crap, his thought circulated his mind as he heard the screams of 20-year-olds. They were so loud, he could have wished for sound-blocking headphones from the studio.
When he got out of the cave of backstage, he started looking at George. Everything about him - even the little details - were perfect. His fang-like teeth that showed up from George's determination. The little crinkles by his eyes when he smiled. His hazel, cozy eyes that you could stare at forever.
When he got up on stage, he fixed himself and the drum kit one last time and he founded himself playing through the playlist already.
He was so into George, staring at him for like an eternity, he lost an entire drum fill. John looked back and gave an "I'll kill you later" look.
...
After the concert, John abruptly looked at Ringo. "Richard! We lost - no - you lost an entire drum fill! A whole goddamn-"
"Calm the heck down, it's only a drum fill. There are more important things in this world than drum fills. Sorry-"
"Sorry won't cut it, Rings! A whole stadium full of people come and spend their hard-earned cash and watch you play your stupid drums and you lost a measure?!? Give me a break, what is wrong with this band?" he mumbled to himself and pressed his fingers onto his temples and walked away.
"Yeah, he's like that sometimes. I'll take care ov'it," Paul said as he scurried towards John.
Ringo sighed as he tried not to let what John said get into him. I need a break, and a ciggie. He took one out and lit it up.
Before he could even inhale it, George suddenly came up. "So..."
"So what?" he chuckled at George's awkwardness.
"Can I ask you a question?"
"Well, go ahead, I'm not judging."
"What, would you do if, you were in love in someone, that they didn't know, and it's not correct?"
Ringo felt like, lost in words. Does he love me? Could this be it? "Well, you gotta tell 'em, one way or another, or you'll get trapped in your feelings for the rest of your life. Share it, or regret it."
And suddenly, the most unexpected thing happened. George pecked his lips onto Ringo's.
Even a simple peck on the lips made them both speechless.
George bit his lips, now wondering how Ringo will think. What if he'll just shy away from me? Will hate me? Kick me out of the group? Or worse-
"I've been wanting to do that ever since Hamburg."
They both felt as if a ton of weight has been lifted off of their shoulders.
Ringo thought of the only thing he could do without anyone getting suspicious. Hugging him. Now, hugging his little Georgie.
After what seemed like an eternity, Ringo pulled back from the hug.
"You know, I love you, ever since we met."
George's eyes widened. "Me too. I love you."
"Love you more."
But then they both heard the cry of teens and adolescent girls.
"George! Look!" he said in a mocking tone," Those screaming maniac girls again! We gotta run!"
"Yeah, you're right!" he continued on the mocking, and as the crowd started chasing them, the two Beatle(lover)s ran, under the starry night, as far as their legs could take them.
A/N: Happy birthday George! I wrote this for you! RIP, George Harold Harrison.
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Most Random Book Ever.
RandomIf you dare... This is a book so random, you'll moan about it for being so random. I shall be posting whenever I like. Thank you.