High on you

Here comes the sun

George had done his best not to reach out to Paul and though it was only Saturday, he was quite lonely. He convinced himself that walking to the charity shop was a good idea and he hoped that shoving his earbuds into his ears was clue enough that he didn't want to be spoken to. But as he stepped inside, Mick flashed him a large grin.

"Aye George! No Paul today?"

George was sure Mick sounded slightly disappointed but maybe that was of his own convincing, he cringed. "Nah, just me." He chuckled awkwardly and turned on his heels, marching over to the albums. He crouched down to sort through the 45s and found himself pulling a few things aside for Paul. Just as he was focusing on Jackson Browne's lyrics-

"Fucking shit Mick!"

George picked up his head to find that new worker shaking his foot rapidly back and forth and a cheeky looking Mick leaning on the album cart just past him.

"Sorry mate!" Mick apologized but didn't seem to sound a lick sorry. George couldn't help chuckle from his spot on the floor. As Mick pulled away, John caught George mid-laugh.

"Oi!" John cracked and George instantly froze but that didn't stop John from sauntering over. George clamped his mouth tightly shut and stared up at him.

"I'm always flattered when I can make the lads clam up but is there something wrong with ya, mate?" John asked as George just continued to stare. He shook his head.

"No, no. Just-uh...no." As George stumbled through that statement, he felt himself wince. John smirked, kneeling down next to him.

"Tell me, can you speak properly?" John asked. That kind of question would've had Paul scrunch his face with distaste. George smiled.

"Yeah, quite capable actually." George retorted, still not sure how comfortable he was.

"Good. Good. Yer a funny looking lad, anyone ever tell ya that?" John asked casually.

George choked. The insult drove him to retort again. "Yer a dick! Anyone ever tell ya that?"

John chuckled again. "Just about everyone I think. Anyways look at me, bringing ya out of yer shell!"

George frowned. "Strange game. I'm George."

"I'm John." John took his hand and shook it wildly. He than continued to sit beside George as he turned the 45s over.

"That ain't a good one" "that's complete shit!" John would comment on each one over George's shoulder. George chuckled as he put together his final pile.

"Ta for the business." John smacked his shoulder and stood. George followed. "You know Mick's having a party next Saturday, you can stop by if ya like."

George was stunned. Besides Paul, who he was sure just felt bad for him, no one had ever bothered to invite him places.

"Really?"

John nodded.

"Alright." He agreed knowing full well his issues would torture him but the shock drove him to say yes.

John slipped a pen from behind Mick's ear and walked over and turned George's palm over. He dragged the pen over his skin and the numbers flowed out. "I'll see ya there mate."

John flung the pencil at the back of Mick's head and bopped off. George looked down at his hand, prepared for the punchline for some joke, the taunt but he was met with a real address and time.

He smiled.
-------------------

Paul stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth and cringed at the dried skin. But he pushed that issue aside for the task at hand. George, who had caved,  held out his palm so Paul could lay his flat on top of it. Occasionally, George would hold one of his fingers tight. Paul glazed the tiny brush over his nail one last time and pulled back.