Imagine... The Beatles (Book Two)

Falling

George Imagine :||

Running from your troubles.

It's a silly thing to do. Your troubles will catch up. They will beat you up. Thy will knock you down. But you shouldn't run from them. You'll always come out stronger in the end. Running only slows the process down.

But, something's you just have to run from. Like, for example, abusive boyfriends. No, not physical abuse. No, not sexual abuse. The worst kind of abuse is verbal abuse.

You can heal from bruises and assaults, but words cut like knives and imbed themselves into your memory. They haunt you forever, the scars are there to stay forever and ever. Scars you'll take to the grave.

As you were running along the streets, not caring who saw you crying, you stumbled. There you lay, on the concrete. You sobbed, felt the sting of your hands as they warmed with blood.

"Oh my god- Miss? Are you alright?" a thick Liverpudlian accent asked. You looked up, vision blurred with tears.

"No," you chocked out, "I am not alright. Can you not see? I'm on the ground bleeding! God dammit, why are men so blind?"

The man lifted you up, and looked at your hands. "Come on, let's go clean you up."

He walked you into a bathroom, wetted a paper towel, and sat it on your hands. The cold water soothed your burning hands. "So, tell me why you were crying."

He knew it wasn't because you fell. He knew it was something much greater, but how could he tell?

"How did you know?" was all you asked.

"I know a broken heart when I see one." the thick accent replied. You glared up at him. "Who are you to say I'm broken hearted?"

"Well, how rude of me. I'm George. George Harrison. It's pretty obvious, the tears, the running, it's like some dramatic love story except no rain." he said.

As you both began to walk out of the bathroom, the loud sirens blew. It was a bomb drill.

"Duck and cover!" he screamed, pulling you to the ground, putting his body on top of yours as if to shield you. Within minutes, the sirens stop and Liverpool went back to its normal Wednesday.

"Allow me to walk you home." he smiled, offering his hand to yours.

You took a good look at him. Teddy Boy, hair up in a quiff, cigarettes, beer, leather. Definitely a Teddy. But, something about him was calming. Almost peaceful. Maybe he wasn't supposed to be a Teddy Boy.

Surely a sweet gentleman like him wasn't a Teddy...

"This is a gimmick. You see, if we act Teddy we get better gigs. I surely don't think I'll always be a Teddy. But, I'm not mean. I promise you that."

You took his hand, and he helped you up. "Thank you, George." you smiled.

"You're welcome, Y/N." he chuckled. "How do you know my name?" you asked, rather shocked at him using your name when you hadn't even introduced yourself.

"Because, you're my neighbor. "

The End.
Dedicated to paulmcfartney , forever my inspiration to start writing. Please, Vote and Comment! I loved you all! ✌🏻️❤️