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How does one catch a fear or a phobia?
Pubs had always stood on Arwyn Carpenter's list of "top fifty shiftiest places to go to" if she ever needs to calm her shit after a temperamental meltdown. They've been ranked higher after the fact she woke up in this fat mess she's currently in inside a pub spoke for her distaste towards the clambered places. The 1960s truly knew how to rake up her dislikes- first a clothing store and now a pub. The bustling bars always made her rile up with agitation while the busy hours made her want to pound against the walls, due to her paranoia of small compacted spaces. If she wanted to get drunk off her ass, she'd sneak a six-pack of beer cans from her parents and run away to the nearest park.
So it was rather clear that pubs and bars were a no-go.
Yet, here she is, standing in the corner of a rough pub with faint music blaring from inside. She didn't know why she's here, because Arwyn was sure 99.99% this whole experience will fuck her up more dead than a roasted chicken (sorry, vegans) and bite her ass. But to prove Robert Miles that she's not a sadistic loner, she made the abrasive decision to head to the Cavern.
On the top of the entrance read "The Cavern Club" as people flooded the flight of stairs leading down to God knows where. It was either the fiery pits of hell or the home base of IT, that clown. It felt clustered like a coffin and that she's the corpse about to be buried in it. She inhaled deeply, already feeling trapped within the towering walls closing her towards the pub. It was just the classic pub with the surrounding area of smokies, junky's, and boys in leather jackets pretending to be like Elvis Presley.
'Arwyn!' A voice yelled from the end of the street.
Arwyn twirled around, her long floral skirt spiralled with her sudden movement, and her eyes shut nearly tight against the dimly lighted alley. But after realisation over who it was, she half-relaxed but still stood stagnant with tensed muscles. Paul had jived down the alleyway, peppered up with his leather jacket and gelled hair (which reminded Arwyn of the boys who would gel their hair back in 2019), while he had his arm slung around a girl. Arwyn assumed that she was Dot Rhone, Paul's girlfriend for a duration before the whole Beatles became a thing or whatever. No, she didn't know much about The Beatles personal life's, the only reason she got a hold of this information was during a casual scroll through Tumblr at 3 AM.
The couple trotted towards Arwyn and Paul held a smile wide enough that the tips of his eyes crinkled. 'You decided to come,' he beamed with a toothy grin.
Arwyn shook her head. 'Ah, no. I'm just a figment of your imagination is all,' she replied flatly.
Paul laughed at this, making Arwyn frown, and he gestured towards Dot. The lass' peppered as well; she wore a mini skirt riled tight around her thigh and had makeup powdered all over her face. Dot sheepishly smiled and waved. 'Well, er, this is Dot- I mentioned her a while ago, remember?' Paul introduced.
