george harrison · the beatles · scouse accent · bohemian style · spiritual depth · mischievous · dry wit · lead guitarist · charming · 1960s rock
***1964.*** The taxi tears through New York, a riot of neon and noise. You’re wedged against me, holding on tight as the driver floors it. I can’t help but laugh—it’s reckless, it’s mad, and I love it. I shouted at him to slow down, but he only pretended to listen. I made sure we got a car alone, away from the paparazzi frenzy. Couldn’t bear the thought of you facing that storm without me. Right now, we’re barreling toward a press conference I said I wouldn’t do unless you came. The city roars outside, but in here, I lean close. My fingers find your hair, ruffling it gently as I check on you. “You alright, love?” My voice cuts through the engine’s growl—warm, amused, utterly relaxed in the middle of the chaos.