Nineteen Sixty-Four // Starrison

Chapter 5

 George Harrison couldn't sleep this day. He laid on a hard bed, feeling like being watched from behind the telescreen; he probably was. He closed his eyes, but face of the new friend was still visible under the man's eyelids. George didn't know what was happening and why this man affected him so much.

His look... watching Richard, Harrison could almost forget about the world they were living in. Forget about the terror, Party, Big Brother. The one gaze of his eyes reminded him of first sunlight emerging after a violent storm. Just like... proving that not always the entire humanity was ruled by fear. History books, admittedly, told them how awful the world was before the Party's ruling, but deep inside George doubted it. The true evil wasn't defeated. It was now born and got the throne. A tyrant was replaced by a tyrant.

The young man was desperate enough to talk to Starkey again. He felt that if he wasted this chance, he would lose something important, it would literally slip from between his fingers. He couldn't let this happen. Besides, the glance that they shared made him believe that he wasn't the only one feeling this.

Something was born inside of him, something he never felt before, but, for some reasons, he was able to name it — a hope.

Hope.

A word lost in the emptiness of tyranny, soon totally ousted in newspeak dictionary. A word buried in a wasteland of the past with no chances to resurrect from the ashes. So how was it even possible for Harrison to feel it?

It could be hours or minutes, but he finally fell asleep, seeing views of the bright sky, brighter than he'll ever see in his life.

The next day George went to work, hoping he'll see Richard again. In his mind he was developing words he could tell him. During the lunch break the man discreetly looked around, but neither Lennon nor Starkey were in his sight. Harrison didn't meet them this day. Just like the next. Wave of fear broke into his heart — what if they got vaporized? Woke up in the night surrounded by a circle of faces, dragged out to the underground of Ministry of Love?

He stayed in this fear when suddenly the third day George practically ran into Richard in the lunch room.

The blue-eyed man smiled at his sight (very uncommon thing, the Outer Party's members didn't smile at other people) and Harrison melted, being happy that Richard's safe at the same time.

"Nice to see you again, comrade," he said.

"You too," George nodded his head, and they looked around, searching for a free table. They were lucky enough to find one long away from the telescreen.

"So... how's your work?"

"Good. Me and my co-workers were working on a special book for weeks, and we're now able to publish it. We're proud of our tempo. What about you?"

"I still can't get used to my new work place," was a laconic reply.

Harrison murmured something; the cutlery clinked.

"Have you watched yesterday's prisoner's hanging?" Starkey asked, looking at George watchfully. It wasn't an interfering eyesight typical for the squealers though — the man wanted to judge him, basing on the answer.

"No. I have no energy after my work. Also, I have problems with sleeping lately," Harrison shrugged.

Richard seemed to be glad of this answer. "Me too."

With a polite nod, George took a sip of his Victory Gin; it was more disgusting that he'd remembered. The man wanted desperately Richard to keep on talking, because he was fond of the Party member's voice: soft and nice, making everything he spoke about interesting. "You like music, don't you?"

Yes, he did. The younger one glimpsed it in Starkey's eyes. He loved music, surely. 

"I do. That's why I like my work even more. But nowadays people want everything to be simpler. They don't actually enjoy the music. Still, I like to make it. Everything for Big Brother, aye?" Richard laughed. 

Liar, George thought with a smile. He made music for himself, to find some peace of beauty in sounds, peace of beauty that's remained. That's why he bonded (at least Harrison suspected so) with John so quickly; Lennon wasn't the type of man to be friend with easily.

"Yes. I'd like to hear something of yours, y'know?"

"Ah, that can be arranged." Richard winked and let himself joke a bit —  they were even afraid of joking though. "I'll send you one album with an autograph, alright?"

It was not Gin that made brown-eyed man warm on the inside. "Good. I'm waiting."

They talked like that for a while in a nice atmosphere. George certainly didn't want to go back to work. He didn't want a propaganda, a dullness, eyes watching him; he wanted Richard. He wanted to spend more time with him and get to know this man more and more. Only a company of this man made him forget about terror of the Party and let him free, above all of his problems — and he knew Starkey only for three days. 

Harrison smiled at this memory, at how he desired Richard, but smile is too painful, stabbing his cheeks, so he lets it disappear. The coldness does not want him to smile. Suddenly two rats run through the cell and the man moves away slowly, watching their brown, dirty, mud-covered fur with a disgust. They soon disappear, just George want to, so he goes back to the comfortable cage of his memories.

A clock informed everyone it's to go back to their work places.

"Time for me." But before Richard stood up, a fork fell out of his hand and landed on a floor with a loud clank. Reaching for it, he leaned close to George's face, making him blush like mad. When their heads were only inches apart, the smaller man whispered:

"Let's meet. Today, after the work. The Grey Owl Bar. Prole's district."

After those words he got up, took the dishes and walked away, not turning back.

This was the next time in the week when Harrison hardly controlled his own expression — breaking his own unwritten rule. His face remained motionless but deep down inside he was the happiest man alive.

//AN: Woah, is our George Queerrison falling for Ritchie already? More Starrison in the next chapters - really more.
Don't forget to comment/vote —  feedback motivates me a lot!//