The Blue Danube [OLD]

- 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔢𝔢𝔫. ﾐ

╲⠀╲⠀╲ ╲

⠀⠀╲⠀╲⠀☆⠀ ╲⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀☆⠀╲⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ★

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀★

january 1859

"I swear his balls went righ' up into 'is body. It was hilarious."

"Yeah!! His fookin' face.. good times." Ringo guffawed, adjusting his position of leaning against the large willow tree to be more comfortable, taking another puff of the pipe. It was a lazy, mid-temp morning, not cold enough to be inside, but cold enough to warrant George, John and Ringo to nick the manor-owned overcoats. The sky was blanketed in ivory-grizzled clouds, completely covering it with no end in sight. George and Ringo had escaped their parent's clutches to take a break to hang out in their usual hangout spot, next to the lake under the willow trees, John prompting them do to so. They were just talking about what had occurred at Paul's sixteenth birthday.

"No more fuckin' schooling fer me, aye? It's over. Th' only thing left is th' weddin'..." John sighed, tilting his head back, not before snatching the pipe off of Ringo and taking a puff, ignoring his whiny protests.

"When is th' wedding, by th' way, Johnny?" George piped up from eating his sandwich, the nearly-sixteen-year-old speaking through his mouthful.

"Chew firs', ye grotty bastard!" Ringo whacked his best friend across the head with his apple, who giggled and whacked him back, prompting the two to start wrestling and rolling around in the grass, dirtying George's waiter uniform.

"Guys, can ye not righ' now? Jeez." John rolled his eyes with a chuckle, watching his friends fight, taking another puff before reaching and sneaking a bite of George's other, spare sandwich. "It's on January 5th next year."

The two stopped fighting immediately, Ringo halfway through trying to take a bite out of George's sandwich, the hollow-cheeked boy barely able to fend the older boy off.

"Oh shit, really? That's so soon.. jus' less than a year!" George spoke, eyes wide as Ringo rolled off of him, moving to set back next to John, expression concerned.

"Yeah." John sighed again, expression growing somber as he fiddled with a piece of lettuce, twiddling it back and forth, eyes glued to his lap. Apprehension grew like a flower inside his chest, snaking around his torso and up his throat to his brain. His life will be pretty much over after that. "They wanted ta make it quick, so Mimi can be replaced an' I'll be king."

"How do ye feel abou' tha'?" George took the last bite of his sandwich, crossing his legs and watching John.

"I... I dunno, really. It's still processing." John paused. He knew exactly how he felt, but he didn't want to admit it to them. The thought of losing them was probably the most terrifying thing to him at that moment, but he'd never tell them that. "I'll be okay, in th' end."