I Want to Tell You (A Beatles Fanfic)

I Want to Tell You

"I want to tell you – I feel hung up, and I don't know why. 

I don't mind. I could wait forever, I've got time..."

~~~

Let me tell you about them – the fab four individuals who changed my life forever. It all started last fall, November of 2019...that is, until it ended up being November of 1963. Yes, I said 1963, the year everything happened from Martin Luther King Jr.'s famous "I Have a Dream" speech, to the JFK assassination. And there I was, in the middle of it all...in the beginning throes of Beatlemania.

Folks, get excited. You're about to hear the adventure of a lifetime.

Actually...what you're about to diverge yourself into is the "timeless" love story of myself and George Harrison, long before I ever became an agent for the T.I.C. It involves some scientific theories which may or may not make any sense at all, so don't get too hung up about the space time continuum, because believe me...it's a tricky thing, Temporal Cold War notwithstanding. And no, I'm no physics major, just a writer and historian...we'll save that for my future friends. So, when I was first asked to come see what would revolutionize the world...our world, a tremendous breakthrough on Earth...and was told that it would greatly aid my field of study, I jumped at the chance, although with not a clue in my head as to what I was getting myself into.

A student at the University of Chicago, I was a freshman about to open a brand-new can of worms into my future, which, unbeknownst to me, turned out to be the past. It was in my first semester there; I was studying history and an avid collector of everything vintage. I hoarded everything, from old soda bottles to vinyl records. Music had always been my first love, and I had grown very close to it over the last couple of years as I struggled with all the many changes and adjustments that come in a young person's life. And I'm not talking about that stuff that's on the radio. I'm talking about real high-quality music. Frank Sinatra. Frankie Valli. Hendrix, Bowie, Dylan, The Stones...I could go on and on. But my all-time favorite, of course, (and most likely why you're here) was The Beatles.

I had adored them since I was a little girl, and had grown up listening to the beautiful, tight harmonies of Lennon and McCartney and the jovial Ringo Starr. But - the Beatle I loved the most was none other than the breathtaking lead guitarist. In the back of my mind, I had always had a special place in my heart for George Harrison and his reserved and gentle personality. Not to mention the fact that in my eyes, he was the best-looking man to ever graze the earth. I mean, let's not beat around the bush...George was HANDSOME. Not Paul McCartney, drop-dead because it is suffocatingly hard to breathe sexy handsome, but the kind of handsome that portrays a sweet, and innocent kind of soul that comes with the general overwhelmingness of a good-looking guy. Adorable, but untouchable. Harrison, to me, was gorgeous. Not to say that I didn't find Paul or John smashing, or even Ringo for that matter. But, George...

Untouchable. Unobtainable. And, perhaps most importantly, no longer available. All things must pass, and unfortunately, this included the vibrant soul of a beautiful man.

He had passed away the day I was born - November 29, 2001. I had always thought it to be a strange coincidence.

Not anymore.

And looking back, I see how young I was, how unexperienced and naïve, a girl at just seventeen, ready to take on college and the world. A wonderful fan of, not only The Beatles, but the 1960's in general, which I truly believed to be a happier time. A history student who thought that, just like George, the past was unobtainable. Something that I would, hard as I researched and read about, never get to actually touch.

This was what I believed...or so I thought.