𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘽𝙀𝘼𝙏𝙇𝙀𝙎 𝙄𝙈𝘼𝙂𝙄𝙉𝙀𝙎

you like me too much | george ☆

era: 1976 (post beatles)
name: lydia

george was sat right next to me on the couch, squishing me into the armrest. it was an annual get-together at our house right after everyone left. it was a cold, brisk, snowy day in december, nearing christmas.

"i told you uncle ramsey was a creep," i chucked under my breath. george inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of the fire we were sat in front of. "he didn't have to make so many comments about our age difference!"

"lydia, it's alright," george smiled. "so what if you're thirteen years younger than me? you're stunning, sweet, charming. i couldn't be happier the way it is, dear." i felt tears pricking my eyelids. he was always so sweet. he took a sip of the beer he was guzzling all night. i grinned at him, full of joy.

"you're so amazing, george," i whispered. "i love you."

"i love you too," he simpered, giving me a peck on the lips. i raised a glass of hot chocolate to my lips to wash away the cigarette and beer taste. "here, cover-up," he threw a knitted blanket over the two of us, covering me and himself generously. i brought the cover up to my chin, tucking it in where my skin was exposed.

i curled my legs beneath my body so i could be elevated a bit more, matching george's height and his frayed out hair. he unbuttoned his shirt, blowing his hair out of his face. i loved braiding george's hair.

he didn't ever want to admit it, but he loved it too. he'd even let me put flowers in his hair every now and then. he would always whine when i pulled too tight, though.

"when do you have to go back to london?" i asked, looking up and him while placing a single hand on his now bare chest.

george furrowed his eyebrows, saying, "i hate to leave you, you know," he mumbled. "tuesday."

three days with my love. three days until he'd be gone, writing music again. i would have to make the most of three mere days with my best friend, my boyfriend, love of my life. george harrison. what to do first? it was almost always sex. but, today was too cold for sex. our bedroom window had been shattered by a bunch of fans, and george didn't want to make an effort unless necessary, which was understandable. he never wanted me to do anything i didn't have to. he was always so sweet.

i cuddled up to his side, feeling the warmth coming off his chest. his heartbeat was slow and steady, matching mine. he placed a comforting arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him. kissing the top of my head, he mumbled, "lyd... you smell like cherries,"

"it's the shampoo, i think," i said, taking a strand and sniffing it for myself. he was right. "you smell like..." he leaned down for me to smell his head. "the woods." i beamed.

"the woods? what the fuck does that even mean?" we laughed together. he squeezed me while smiling down at me. "let's see what's on the telly," he stood up, switching the television on and turning the dial to the news channel.

the couch was left with an empty, warm indent from where he sat. once he came back, focusing more on the screen, i cuddled back up to him. the bright screen illuminated the dark room, lighting our faces. his relaxed face fell on my head as i leaned it on his shoulder.

we were both in utter peace watching the news. i couldn't explain it. we felt... untouchable. serenity. calm. life had never been sweeter.