𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬 | george harrison

nineteen

i have to admit, i was rather glad john pulled me out of the house. it was christmas eve and the city was buzzing. seeing all of the lights, smelling the hot cocoa, listening to the music... it almost made me forget that george wasn't with me.

after trying on blouses john picked out for me and watching him prance around in extravagant coats for hours, the both of us were ready for a drink.

"are you sure this is the best idea, though?" i questioned, placing my arm through johns as we crossed the street.

"what?"

"getting plastered before we actually finish our christmas shopping?"

he laughed as he opened the pub door.

"michelle, when has alcohol ever made anything a bad time?"

i walked under his arm and into the crowded, dimly lit pub.

"i think i can name a few." i muttered as the two of us made our way to a small table by the window.

i rested my chin on my hand propped by my elbow on the table. letting out a sigh, i speculated the joyous scene outside once again. i admired the families, the friends, the lovers.

"what am i going to do?" i said to myself, quietly.

"what was that, dear?" john asked, opening his menu.

"oh. it's just... nothing. well." i contemplated if i should unload my burdens on my best friend just hours before christmas. "it's my first holiday without a family and the love of my life not only hates me, but is no where to be found."

"why yes it does."

"huh?"

"it certainly sounds worse when you say it out loud."

i scoffed, rolling my eyes.

"i'm serious. i feel like i don't even know him anymore. he told me when things get hard he'd always be there... but the moment we hit a bump in the road he just ran."

"and that was incredibly moronic."

"he told me he'd never let me alone again."

"and you aren't."

i looked up from the necklace i was twiddling with.

"you have a family, and you'll always have george. i mean christ, he adores you, chelley. unfortunately, i've known the fella for years now, and i'm afraid this is how he is. he gets upset and he takes off. but he always comes back." john explained, placing his warm hand over mine. "besides, don't act like you haven't run off before."

i laughed, causing him to do the same.

"he must've gotten the idea from us, huh?"

around 23:00, john and i retuned back to the bus. with still no sign of the other three beatles and nancy, the two of us decided to wrap up the gifts and go to bed.

or at least try.

i sat next to john on the leather couch after changing into one of ringo's huge tourist tees and began wrapping the bag i had purchased for nance.

"go big or go belgium, eh?" john asked, reading the text on my shirt.

"listen, the paris one wasn't clean." i joked, taking the tape out of his hand.

we sat and prepared gifts for another hour or so, until midnight rolled around the remainder of our group hadn't returned yet. john stood up yawning, ready to go to bed. he picked up a blanket and placed it over me gently on the couch.