To Those Who Don't Belong

5

I sat there in awe. Was I seriously meeting my online friend right now?

"Um," George quickly shook his hand out as to awkwardly offer to help me up. I slowly took his hand. I lifted myself up even slower.

"Hi," I awkwardly waved. He awkwardly waved back. I awkwardly smiled, and he gave me an awkward smile back. He awkwarded, I awkwarded. Everything was awkward. That's the only way to describe it.

"So," I said after giggling, "what's your real name?"

"George. Harrison. You?"

"Richard. Starkey."

"So... why rings," he stepped a little closer to me. It was all too electric. I instantly remembered the situation I was just in. But, it didn't scare me now. Instead if seeing Dr. Pervert's face behind me, I saw George's. I imagined feeling his breathe against my neck. I shivered. I was sick. How could I? How would I? Why do I find the idea of George doing all the things Dr. Robert did... satisfactory. Not creepy. I wanted to vomit.

"Uh..." I gave up and just held my hands up. George tilted his head and stared at all five of the rings I was wearing.

"It looks surprisingly good on you," he smirked. The smirk suddenly faded, "Why were you crying? What happened?"

"I'd rather talk about it in a more private place," I whispered as I motioned towards all the pedestrians walking about.

"Where to then?" He had a good question. Where should we go? Definetly not one of our houses. We didn't know eachother that well yet.

"Wanna take a walk up to the library. We could go up to the rooftop garden that no one ever visits," I loved it there. The library was great in general, but if you ever ventured up the stairs, you'd find yourself in a lousy garden. Why I liked it so much, I don't know? Maybe I found the beauty in wilted flowers. Maybe I'm a wilted flower. Would anybody find the beauty in me?

"Yes. That sounds good."

Our short walk was full of meaningless questions. Who was better: Clapton or Petty? Chocolate or vanilla? Silly stuff, really. When we entered the library, we shot eachother serious looks. Time to talk. At least in a minute or two. We trudged up the winding steps and onto the aged rooftop. Not a person was in sight. Only us, and heavily aged roses.

"What happened. You can trust me I promise," his eyes wandered around my face.

"I-I was going to see the doctor, like I told you. And he-he... He tried to touch me. He held my hips. He wouldn't leave. I didnt," I began to cry, "I didn't like it," I looked down as tears flooded my warm face.

"Hey,"George unknowingly put his hand on my knee, "it'll be alright. I'm here. I'm here for you. Let all out..." He kept telling me comforting things in a calm quiet voice.

I finished crying and threw myself onto him. I hugged him as tight as possible.

"We've only just met, and I already consider you my best friend," I said between sniffles.

I let go of George and stepped back. His face lightened at my comment and a sincere smile spread across his face.

"Friends are good. Especially if they're your best," he looked like he was about to tear up, but you don't do that. Not in Liverpool. Even if it is 2019. I cried because I had been violated, but even that would be seen as embarrassing. "Do you wanna go grab a drink?" I nodded. I think a drink was well deserved.

We headed to the pub that was only across the street. We opened the new black doors and emidiatley heard the hollered and laughs of drunk liverpudlian. We sat at a booth, deciding to stay away from all the drunks watching the latest football game. It was hot, I could feel the sweat of everyone.

"Two beers!" George shouted at a barmaid. Within seconds she was shuffling towards us with our requests.

"Anything else?" George looked at me and then looked away like he didn't want anything.

"A six shots please. Make it a mystery, but make it good," I said with a sudden burst of confidence. She walked away quickly, heels clicking.

"What?" George laughed.

"I thought we should have fun."

"Have ye' had anything to eat?" That got me thinking.

"No...How about some chips?"

"Sure," he said nodding slightly to the right, "just wanted to make sure you wouldn't make a fool of yourself too early." I smiled at him with a certain smugness.

The barmaid made her way back with our beers.

"The shots will be back soon. Anything else?"

George looked up at her and briefly stated, "Some chips please. Enough for two," the barmaid scribbled that down and walked away.

"Think we're keeping her busy enough?" I asked sarcastically.

The barmaid was once again back. This time she was carrying our shots.

"I figured you two either wanted to have fun or forget, so I got some of the stronger stuff." She shot us a smile and then left.

"Let's just see how strong this stuff is," George said in a new tone of confidence.

He reached forward quickly and threw the shot down his throat, instantly moving into a coughing fit.

"Strong enough?" I chuckled. He just kept on coughing and pointed at the shots. I grabbed one myself and figured it best to do it quickly like a bandaid.

It burnt like hell. But, I'm sure that it would make sure that we'd have fun.

Pretty soon our chips came and our shots left. I'm sure they'd be leaving again by later tonight or early in the morning. Our beer left pretty quickly too. You could say we were decently buzzed.

"Hey," George slurred, "Wanna have some real fun at my house?" My stomach did a backflip. "I've got pot," he whispered. That was a relief. I thought he meant...

Next thing I knew we were parading about the town. Yelling obscenities thirteen year olds would laugh and duck their heads at while the mothers shook their heads.

"Heh, this is it," George stopped me with his hand. It was a cheap looking apartment complex surrounded by trees and cars.

We opened the wide doors and walked up the many sets of stairs. Jesus, how many steps were there?

"We're here," George smiled, eyes drowsily half shut. I stumbled in and found an extra pair of shoes on the ground.

"Hullo? Geo," I quickly turned my head to find big doe eyes peeking around the corner. "Who are you?" My cheeks must've been as red as a tomato.

"Paul, this is my friend Richard. Ringo for short," I looked over to George. Ringo. I liked it.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Paul," Paul extended his hand and I shook it, "Wanna have a smoke? Just got some new paper."

"Actually Paul, George interjected, "that's why we are here."

It seemed like only seconds passed before I dizzily found myself watching smoke ingulf the air.

"Your turn," Paul nudged me. It's just like a cigarette, I figured. I can do this.

I took a big huff of it without thinking.

"Woah there, cowboy," Paul slurred as George laughed. The room slowed down and I felt a sense of euphoria. I was safe. Nothing could harm me.

Okay, so this may not be accurate because I've never smoked pot  before. But, my brother has, so I based how Ringo acted when he was high off of how my brother did. Sorry, again, if this wasn't accurate.