Nineteen Sixty-Four // Starrison

Chapter 15

George sighed, wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead. He backed off and rested against a wall.

“So? How’s he gonna be?” Ringo asked unsure, picking the leftovers of bandages from the floor. John was only sitting in silence, watching George.

“He’ll live. I told you, it’s not a mortal wound. He needs a rest.”

Everyone turned their sight to the stranger, asking quietly, what was he doing here, who was he, why were they helping him? If Thought Police was chasing him, the boy had probably commited some crime. Doesn’t matter, if pointless one. But he did. By getting involved in this, they were putting themselves in a goddamn big risk. Cocking a snook at the Party. However the thoughtcrime was committed in a silence of their own minds, this one…

Harrison bit his lips. “Did you even wonder what now?”

Of course, he didn’t receive any answer. Lennon shrugged and got up suddenly, walking around the room, far away in his own thoughts. Finally, he looked at the lovers with an astute spark in his eyes, murmured something about coming back later and — left. Just like this.

There was a silence.

George was in the Room with Ringo one-on-one.

He took a shaky breath.

Even if the last events let him forget about the ex-lover’s presence, now everything came back with twice as much strength. This small space that separated them… the young man’s heart started beating faster, remembering pain of the past days.

Naturally, Richard was the one to break this silence. “Nobody knows what’s now, am I right?”

The younger one sighed, trying his best not to look at Starkey. “Did anyone ever know though?”

Ringo moved nervously. He was drawing some pattern in a dust, somehow absently. “We’re now in this together. We have to keep going, y’know?” he said gently, but with a sad smile.

“Why us? Why us?” Harrison couldn’t stop a wave of a bitterness that spilled out from between his lips. “Nobody ever asked me if I want to take my part in this. Nobody.”

“George, you said y-”

“I’m not talking about this.” He hasn’t agreed to live in this world. He hasn’t agreed to fall in love. He hasn’t agreed to live in a constant thoughtcrime. He hasn’t agreed to any risk he’s taken. But nobody has given him any choice; the fate has just thrown him in a middle of all this, in a middle of the havoc, smothered feelings, and lies. It hurt to think about this miserable life. “I didn’t want… I…” All the triade he prepared got stuck in is throat and the brown-eyed man groaned quietly, burying his head in hands.

Almost immediately he felt a pair of hands, embracing him in a familiar hug.

“Richard… No.”

He pushed him away. Pushed every feeling for Richard away — from fear. How could Starkey be even nice to him, after all of this?

“Shh…” The older one stroke his head lovingly. George let himself cling to Ringo. “We’ll make it. We will.”

“I hope so,” Harrison sniffed.

We.

The new beginning.

The two men were hugging each other on the attic, consumed by fear, hid from the rest of the world, having the unconscious boy as a silent witness.

* * *

“He’s waking up.”

Everybody watched the dark-haired stranger, as he moved slightly and raised his head to the wounded forehead. John got up and walked to him with mixed emotions on his face. George and Ringo shared unsure glances.