Goodbye and Thank You | 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴

He's Leaving Home - G.H.

"Whatcha doin' with that eh?" George raised an eyebrow at you.

You grinned behind the camera. It was the camera he'd just bought for you and you loved it. You were determined to capture every moment you could, just so you could hold onto them a little longer.

"Nothin' Georgie," you smiled cheekily at him as you lowered the piece of machinery. But just then, the polaroid came out, destroying your little white lie.

He squinted at you and shook his head, causing you to laugh.

"C'mere you," he said, gesturing with his hand to sit next to you.

You smiled and let the camera dangle on the strap around your neck as you walked over to him. You quickly pocketed the polaroid, being scared you'd might loose it if you weren't paying attention. Sitting down, he immediately wrapped an arm around you.

"M'gonna miss you," he mumbled.

The words were like a wave of sadness that crashed over you. George would be leaving for Hamburg together with John, Paul, Stuart, and another guy named Pete - which they'd just met - the next day.

Deep down, you hoped the day would never come, that the trip would suddenly be cancelled. But you knew that would break George's heart. He loved playing in the band, and he was sure they were going to make it big. Or at least, that's what John always told them.

You sighed and leaned your head in the crook of his neck, the scent of his leather jacket entering your nostrils only saddening you more.

"I'm gonna miss you too Geo," you whispered.

He rubbed his thumb over your shoulder and kissed the top of your head, keeping his chin there for just a little longer.

"You never told me how long you'll be gone for," you said, fumbling with the zipper of his jacket.

George pulled away his arm and retrieved a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket.

"I dunno," he said.

You watched his fingers as he put a cigarette between his lips and lit it. He inhaled deeply before taking it out of his mouth again. A puff of smoke formed above your heads.

He looked down at his feet. "Allan says we'll at least have to stay a month or two to make up for the travel costs, y'know. It ain't cheap sailing all the way to Hamburg," he explained.

You nodded slowly. 'A month or two'. Right. That could mean anything.

George turned to look up at you. "Maybe ye can come over sometime? Surely he'll have everythin' paid for you and all."

The nod turned into a firm headshake. "I can't, I still have school. And anyway, my parents would never let me go to Hamburg on my own, even if they know you're all there," you said.

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Maybe it's because we're there. Wouldn't want their proper little girl gettin' into any nasty business," he grinned, showing off his signature canines.

You yelped and smacked him on his shoulder. "George!" you felt heat rising to your face so you immediately avoided his gaze.

He chuckled, making your heart flutter. "M'only jokin' luv. Ye're too beautiful for those things," he said.

You blushed yet again and rolled your eyes. Suddenly you felt a tug at your neck. You looked up to see George having taken the camera in his own hands and now taking a picture of you.

"Geo stop!" you laughed.

He grinned when the polaroid slid out of the camera. He took it between his fingers and shook it a couple of times. Slowly, the image of you laughing straight at the camera came into view.

"Look at that," he breathed. He seemed to be in complete awe with the picture in front of him.

Getting curious, you slipped your hand in your pocket and took out your own pictures you'd just taken from him.

There were three. One in which he looked down, in the next he looked away, and in the last one he'd looked straight at you, only then figuring out what you were up to.

You looked up at him when he let out a low chuckle.

"What?" you asked with a frown.

"Mine's prettier," he grinned.

You laughed, and before you could say something else, he crashed his lips onto yours. You felt butterflies in your stomach. The way your lips moved so perfectly against each other made you hold on to his collar, forgetting all about the pictures in your hand.

The next day was just as bad as you had imagined it to be. You didn't want to get out of bed, you didn't want to eat. Hell, putting on clothes seemed to be the least important thing in the world.

Your heart ached as you stared out of the window in the front room. Your parents were both at work, but you had your mom tell the school you were sick, so you could stay home. She completely understood what it felt like when your lover had to leave, having seen her husband get sent off into the army not twenty years before.

You were snapped from your thoughts when you suddenly heard the clinking sound of the letter box. You immediately got to your feet and rushed into the hallway.

On the black doormat lay a yellowish envelope. Frowning, you picked it up and turned it around, but there was nothing written on it.

You looked around as if to see if someone was spying on you, even though you knew perfectly well you were home alone.

Without thinking you ripped open the envelope and let the contents fall into the palm of your hand.

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat when you recognised what it was: the pictures you'd taken of George the day before.

Clasping a hand over your mouth, you let the envelope drop to the floor. How could you have let that happen? When had it even happened? You'd kept it in your pocket the entire time, right?

You looked at them carefully, and as you did, you noticed there was something written on the back of one of them.

'Found these after you left. Keep me safe please. Love, Geo.'

Tears had formed in your eyes and your hands started to tremble. Then you looked at the door, the sound of the letter box still echoing in your head.

You quickly turned the key of the front door in its lock and pulled it open. The cold morning air hit your face as you frantically looked around.

"George!" you cried out, tears streaming down your cheeks.

But there was no sign of him. No sign of anyone for that matter. The streets were empty, and suddenly you felt as if you were all alone in the world.