𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬 | george harrison

three

i sat back in utter amusement as i watched paul struggle with the task at hand. this morning, his enemy was the tiny kitchen and his craving for crepes.

"although this is quite entertaining, you really don't have to make anything at all on my behalf, paul. we can just have uh," i started rummaging through the cupboards above me. "dried apricot bars?"

he simply made a disgusted sound as he continued to fight his losing battle.

"honestly love, i only said they were for you because i felt like that was the kind thing to do. but really, i would give my left nut for a stack of crepes right now."

i smiled to myself, getting up to assist him. i took the mixing bowl and the whisk out of his hands, leaving him standing empty handed in a apron over his pyjamas.

"here, let me do this. it's the least i can do. if it wasn't for you and your friends back there, i'd still be on the side of motorway eleven."

"michelle,"

"sit down, paul."

he gave me an are you sure? kind of glare, to which i nodded and gestured towards the couch.

"you know, i used to make these all the time when i live-" the bus went over a speed bump, causing me to turn and lose any grip i had on the bowl.

"what the FUCK?!" george exclaimed, standing next to me, covered in batter.

i mine as well ask ernie to slow down so when i hurl myself out the window i die instead of just being injured.

"oh george, i am so so sorry. really, we came over a speed bump and i guess the moment i tripped you uh, you got up." i rambled, paper towel in hand doing my best to clean off his shirt. i reached up to wipe off his face, but he just yanked it out of my grasp to do it himself.

"michelle, are you sure you don't want me to make them?" paul smirked, coming up behind me and retrieving the mixing bowl once more.

for once, i couldn't think of a witty comeback. my brain was automatically flooded with all the reasons i shouldn't be here. all the reasons why my mother did the right thing taking away everything i had. i didn't deserve help. i didn't deserve anything.

as i felt the tears well up in my eyes, i pushed past george, not answering paul either. i made my way to the back of the bus where a little storage closet seemed to be. i crammed myself in the tiny room, locking the door behind me. i pressed my back against the opposite wall and slid down to my knees as i felt the tears escape down my face.

why couldn't i just do something right for once? make the right decision? why am i always the disappointment?

five minutes must've passed up until i heard a quiet knock on the door.

"chelley? it's me."

i didn't even need a name.

"come in, john." i whimpered softly.

he unlocked the door and closed it once again behind him as he sat down across from me. i sniffled a bit and then let out a small laugh.

"what?"

"nothing, it's just... no one else has ever called me chelley since secondary school."

he didn't need to say anything, he just nodded and we sat in silence for a moment. that was something i was beginning to love about john. i had only known him for about a week now, but the silence between the two of us was always comfortable. neither one of us needed to speak to understand what the other was saying.