}°'☆ beatle imagines - 🍃🌥

a girl - g.h.

×

"Man, you should call her."

George let out a trembling breath, dragging his sweaty palms down his face repeatedly, almost in a fidgeting manner for about 6 minutes now.

"Naw - i mean, what if she doesn't feel the same way, like?"

John scoffed and propped himself up from his laying position, now sitting with his right leg dangling on top of his left knee.

"Well it's all on you but I'd say you're a dumb one if ye' don't. She's a one of a kind bird, ya' said so ye'self."

George settled his bottom lip inbetween his teeth and rested his hand on his palm, contemplating for awhile wether he should call her or not.

Meanwhile, his insecurity wavered over his head,
What if she's forgotten about him? What if she doesn't miss him? Or worse, maybe she's already with another man?
Oh lord, what has gotten into him! She would never do such a thing. How he would kill to see that beautiful face of hers again, to let his lips graze her soft pouted ones, to touch her ethereally gorgeous sk-

"Ay mate, y'alright?", Paul interfered his thought bubble. George blinked his eyes, his brain lagging for a few seconds as his friend waited for a response.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine, alright.", he tried to seem nonchalant, but the hoarseness of his voice says otherwise.

"Na', he's not. He'd been thinkin' about that (Y/N) bird since noon."

John ruffled his hair from behind, making it fluff up from sticking onto his forehead, in which he just realized was sweating like mad.

Paul sniggered at him, crossing his legs down onto the carpet below, curiosity decorated his eyes as if he's a young child waiting for his bedtime story to be told. Only this time, the child is holding an acoustic, strumming an unknown tune in a serene manner.

"Y'should call her, y'know.", he said in between strums.

"Don't need to remind me. John's been sayin' that over and over again for the past hour.", he groaned. His suit now seemed rather itchy, the collar of it felt too tight and the tie did nothing to help. Feeling slightly intruded by his friends' comments, George pulled his tie down and set it on the coffee table before him, unbuttoning his collar in attempt to get fresh air.

George sprang up from the couch, checking his back pocket for a change as he did. When he heard something chinking inside it, he immediately bounced to the door, ignoring the bewildered looks on eich of his mate's faces.

Before Paul managed to open his mouth to ask, he answered the easiest yet most complicated question at the time.

"I'm callin' her."

×

He walked along the damp sidewalk, his trench coat squeezing his lanky figure as he attempted a, well, last minute "disguise". Last night was already tiring as it is, and he didn't need more people shoving cameras at his face or being chased by hoards of wild girls. Yet that thought quickly fogged away from his mind, he no longer thought of the consequences of finding a payphone, being out and about all by himself.

No, all that's crossed his mind now is her.

The last time he saw her, they were having a picnic together. She was glowing under the sunlight, it's almost as if she's the one who's beaming down at the earth, not the other way around. That short peach-colored dress she wore looked marvelous on her. George liked to reminisce her as a breed of fairy, somehow unreal to him, yet made him feel human again from being under the spotlight all the time.

He hasted when he saw a phone booth at the corner of the street, accidentally bumping to a tall man with a suitcase. He muttered a quick "sorry" before faltering himself to the booth. His fingers shoved down to his back pocket, picking up a cent and sliding it into the coin slot.

The dial repeated a rythm of sounds, his heart rate increasing everytime he hears another beep. He crossed his arm onto his torso, feet tapping onto the ground as he anxiously waits for her to answer.

Just a moment after he realized it was hopeless to contact her since she was literally a sea away from him, he let out a devastated sigh and took the phone from his ears.

Until he heard a rustle on the other side.

"Hello?", her sweet voice sung like a melody to his ears.

He let out a happy sigh and grinned widely, his joy blew up like a balloon and he felt as if he's about to float to heaven.

"'Allo, sweetheart."

.
A/N
i dedicate this chapter to the best fanfiction writer ever a.k.a PhelpsFeels
ily maya! thanks for everything mwah.
also here you go ClioElysha i hate u (jk)