she's leaving home 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒 [𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐭𝐰𝐨]

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐈.

-𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟖.-

an empty graveyard. it was nightfall already. the air was damp for whatever reason. the graves, lined up in a perfect form, sat still in the air of the night. molly crept out from the shadows and walked up to the one she visited every year on his death anniversary; her father's grave.

it was empty. she wasn't perplexed at that. her father cut all his family off when he moved away from home. he was completely alone, stumbling the streets of london until he met molly's mother. they fell in love and not months later had molly. the rest is-as they say-history.

even as a dead man, her father was alone. except for one small thing; a little yellow flower protruding out of the grass below the grave. she thought it was strange, but didn't think much of it. it didn't look like it was grown but planted. how odd.

since molly and her mother had no body to bury, they decided not to put the grave in london once they moved. it was easier and they-well, molly, would be able to visit more often. she was lucky her mother even agreed.

"who's this?" molly nearly screamed, hearing a faint, recognizable voice from behind her.

she sighed-just george. "you frightened me!" he sneered at her and her posh accent. he still made fun of her for using the queen's english. his accent had more of a cockney grit to it. "it's my father."

"what a lovely grave," george tried to make small-talk. molly was still entranced in the little flower below her father's grave. who could've put it there? "do you miss him?"

she smiled longingly. a tear almost shed as she thought of her father. "more than i could say," she uttered. her voice never faltered. she wanted to believe she was strong enough to not cry this year, although every year, she did.

george's heart swelled at the sight of his best friend crying. he never liked seeing her like that. the only thing he could think to do was enthral her in a hug, even if it was just a side one. but the moment he initiated it, she stiffened. she didn't want to cry or be seen like in that state.

"molly, it's okay," george rubbed her shoulder. "you can cry." it was as if he was reading her thoughts, so to say 'i know. you're okay'. so she cried. she cried into his shoulder, staring at the little flower beneath them both. the question still begged an answer; who?

it couldn't have been her mother. she separated herself from her husband as soon as the funeral was over. she turned cold whenever he was brought up. molly didn't dare mention his name around her in fears she'd lose it again.

it wasn't molly who put the yellow flower there. nobody but those two would've, so who? maybe it grew on its own. flowers grow. but it just looked so out of the ordinary...

still wrapped in george's embrace, molly wondered if it was he who put it there. why was he there, anyway? "why are you here?" she asked aloud this time.

"i followed you," he smirked, rubbing circles in her back. molly understood immediately. they were hanging out at his house, then she left when she remembered what day it was. he must've decided to follow her. "you left in such a rush, i needed to make sure you were okay."

"you're creepy," she spoke into his chest, swallowing hard.

with the shakiness of her voice came thunder from above. "let's get you home, molly mayweather." he wrapped his jacket around her shoulders, placing a comforting hand on the small of her back. the walk wasn't long, but it gave them time to chat for a while. "you go there every year?"

she nodded without a word. he decided to leave her alone since she was probably going through things in her mind. the sidewalks were empty and the streets were silent. the moment was oddly nostalgic. lampposts and street lamps lit the way home, but there still held a void in molly's heart.

they arrived at her doorstep and that was when george finally released her of his grip. "well... i really do appreciate... you know. this," she smiled softly. "i'm glad you were there."

george wanted to say so much to her at that moment. oh, the things he could've told her. but he decided it wasn't a good time. it was her father's death anniversary for christ's sake. he should just let her be.

"i'm only a call away when you need me!" and the old george was back. good old reliable george. always having molly's back, being a friend. a friend.

but after kissing his cheek goodbye and shutting the door, everything seemed okay for a moment for george. maybe this would be the year he'd stop being molly's little sidekick, defending her and being there for her. maybe it was time to be a little mysterious, keep her on edge.

as george was walking home, he began to think; maybe i am just the nice guy. but that's not who he wanted to be. john wasn't nice, and she had a fairly large crush on him! maybe i should be more like john...

nah.

but maybe george just wasn't cut out for molly. but, oh, was she wonderful. in every way possible. he couldn't get his and her songs out his head. elvis. buddy holly. little richard. the classics they listened to together.

she was-as the penguins sang, an earth angel.

"i fell for you...
and i knew
the vision of my love's loveliness
i hope and i pray
that someday
i'll be the vision
the vision of your happiness..."