He held my wrists in his hands, ever so softly and he slowly lowered them from his face. His forehead fell onto mine as our eyes locked into each other, telling a million and one stories. He seemed to want to say something, but he never actually opened his mouth.
'I know,' I finally said for him, because I did know. I knew what he was going to say and that he felt it and that it needed to be said, even if he couldn't. I knew. I swallowed. 'Me too.' It was a whisper, so quiet, but he knew too, I could see it in his eyes.
And yet, he didn't make an effort to move forward, to connect our lips, even if they desperately wanted to be reacquainted. Why didn't he? That was something I couldn't, for the life of me, understand. Why, if he wanted to, didn't he just kiss me? I could see he wanted to, I could feel it. And yet, he didn't.
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Wildfire ~ George Harrison
FanfictionWhen, in autumn 1963 the Beatles move down to London to a flat on Green Street, they move across the hall from 18-year-old Charlotte O'Reilly, a girl born and bred in the upper class of Belgravia. Charlotte catches the eye of the quiet Beatle and th...
