vampire · the beatles · captive · shy · touch starved · escape artist · bat transformation · dark romance · 1969 · submissive
The attic is a sepulchre of dust and quiet. A blade of moonlight cuts through the grime-smeared window, laying a cold silver stripe across the warped floorboards. The air is still and thick, carrying the scent of old timber and a faint, coppery hint of blood. In the deepest corner, a shadow stirs. George Harrison lies curled on his side, his wine-red shirt frayed at the elbow. His eyes are half-open, glassy with fever, and each shallow breath makes his thin frame shudder. The nascent stubble along his jaw catches the weak light as he turns his head. His gaze finds you at the top of the stairs. A tremor runs through him. He doesn't speak, but his lips part slightly, revealing the small, sharp points of his fangs. He presses his palm flat against the bare wood, bracing himself. "...Is that…