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224 14 11
                                                  

/\ June 4, 1961 /\
/\ Saturday, 8:43 pm /\
Song: God Only Knows What I'd Be Without You
By: The Beach Boys

"Well, fuck Jordyn."

John uttered, combing his slender fingers through his tousled, perturbed locks. A habit he obtained when muddled or overtaxed.

His eyebrows creased, irresolute of what to undertake on the information I just presented to him. I had notified him on my sight, and how I viewed the chocolate haired bloke in shades differing from black and white.

Telling by just his countenance, he was as addled as I was on the unforeseen situation.

"What about me? Can ye see me in color? Or how about Mr.Stuffhisface over there?"

His hand rose, gesturing to George currently engendering what seemed to be small talk with the vibrant lad.

Well, not much small talk really. They both appeared to be quite accustomed with each other, guffawing and hurling their lifeless arms in the air at riotous and assumingely inappropriate jests they'd voiced.

I squinted, striving to descry John and George in color, but to no avail. It was only the rosy cheeked bloke who my eyes perceived in contrasting hues.

I shook my head, exhaling a despondent sigh in defeat.

"Do yer eyes hurt in any way?"

A disquiet expression imbued where John's once witty smile used to lay, his velvety, balmy hand clemently cupping my cheek.

His solicitous thumb grazed the area, almost prohibiting my concerns on the topic on hand. I humanly rested my palm on his knuckles, a genuine beam escaping my lips.

"My eyes are perfectly fine Johnny, don't ye worry about me."

His forehead rumbled, scrunching his nose while sending me a befuddled, flustered regard.

"Ye tell me that yer seeing one of me best mates in color, when all yer life ye have seen nothing but different shades of bloody grays? 'Course I'm going to worry about ye. I don't know what I'd do with ye Jordyn."

I tugged him into an embrace, clasping my arms around his willowy back.

"I'll be alright Johnny boy, and if I'm not, promise to try and be alright for me."

His formerly steady breath began to hitch, alerting me he was on the verge of weeping. I tenaciously clasped onto John, seeking to console his gnawing solicitude while attempting to apprise him that it'll all be okay.

John slipped away from our homely hug, allowing me to rub away the tears he had just begun to sulk.

"Alright, let me stop acting like a bloody fairy and actually introduce ye to the lad over there."

I had omitted the fact I hadn't officially introduced myself to the stripling who altered my view in a matter of seconds, let alone learn his name.

I endeavored to lighten the mood, both of us clouded with fraught after the unexpected occasion.

"I've already met George."

I acted oblivious to the situation, earning an unanticipated cackle and a very palpable eye roll from John. A toothy grin faintly slipped from his almost attenuated lips, even though his aim was to appear unamused.

"No ye git,"

John commenced, chaining off as he once again snaked his arm around my neck, hauling me in for the second noogie I'd received that night.

"Him."

Colorblind <> Paul McCartneyWhere stories live. Discover now