temporary fix || george harrison

42%

THE ENTIRETY of January, and the rest of the English spring, the boys were on tour. Everyday The Beatles, the four mop top lads from the dock town of Liverpool would perform for hours a day, sometimes from dusk til dawn.

Unfortunately, I could not accompany them to when they left for Scotland or for Wales, on account of my job. But often times Christopher would allow me to leave early with a wink, to catch shows when the boys were in London or nearby.

It made all the time I'd spent with George, all the more precious. Seeing it was at the end of January, that left with me until the beginning of November to get my shit together. Which meant, every minute not spent with George, or at work, was spent in pursuit of my ring.

"Are you ready for the show tonight, Ju?" John asked as he was tuning his guitar in the backstage room, none of the other boys present to hear us talk. John had a weird thing about talking to me in front of the other lads, George especially. I deduced it to our rather keen experience together over the holidays, but I had a lurking suspicion that it had to do with something else.

"Oh yes! A live Beatles performance is always something that gets me shaking." I said with a laugh, thinking of the cute little dance George and Paul do when they're sharing the mic on stage.

My legs were tossed carelessly over the arm of the only couch in the room, and my eyes were trained on the chandelier above my head.

"Whatdya think of the songs?" John asked cautiously, not taking his eyes away from the neck of his Rickenbacker. I knew he was testing the waters, seeing how much he can get away with before I shut him down again. His buddy holly style glasses were perched upon his aquiline nose, finally giving him the ability of sight.

Lennon was as blind as bat, something I thought was exaggerated by the throes of time, but was in fact incredibly true. I could have thrown a jelly baby at him and he wouldn't even react until it beamed him between the eyes.

I shrugged, listlessly turning my heeled foot back and forth like a metronome, waiting for George to come back from the soundcheck. I heard heavy footed steps from the hall and saw Paul enter the room with his Hofner in tow, his eyes flitting back and forth from John and I with emotion that I couldn't quite place.

"I like them, and the girls in the audience do too. I'm sure they'll reach a broader audience once you come back from your tour with that bird Helen Shapiro." I said softly, watching the subtle shift in Paul's face as I spoke. What was up with him lately?

"What did you think of Ask Me Why? The one that was on the single?" John prodded further, choosing his words carefully as Ringo entered the room with his drumsticks twirling like bayonets in his fingers.

I waved hello to my favourite drummer and thought of an appropriate answer as Ringo plopped next to me, copying my actions as he threw his own legs over the other couch arm with a chortle.

"George won't mind." Ringo snickered as he laid his head beside my own, giving me the best view of his crystalline baby blues. I smiled in return, giving him a nudge to his head with the palm of my hand.

"Ask Me Why is a fantastic tune, but I favor She Loves You. Call it personal bias." I admitted freely, going over the lyrics of Ask Me Why in my head, stumbling on some shocking parallels as it slowly reeled on my lips.

I love you, because you tell me things that I want to know

And its true, that it really goes to show

That I know that I should never never never be blue...

I suddenly felt green around the gills, feeling the room close in on me as I realized the implications of what John meant. I had already just changed history- John wrote Ask Me Why because of me. Oh fuck me... John was openly admitting that he carries a torch for me.