Work Text:
1964
George Harrison had made a mistake. A mistake that was irreversible - he had fallen hopelessly in love with his best friend. Hopelessly, deeply, and blindingly in love with him. Ringo Starr had made a mistake too. A mistake that was reversible - he had denied his endless love for his best friend. It had been his initial reaction; he had no idea why he was feeling what he was, yet he was sure he had reacted in the incorrect way.
Nonetheless, they had fallen hopelessly in love.
It had been a month since his unanticipated love confession to his best friend, and George hadn't exited his bedroom. Alongside that, nobody had heard anything from Ringo; everything was now ruined, and it was all his fault. He supposed that it was a consequence of falling in love with your closest friend.
John Lennon harshly knocked upon the bedroom door. "Oi, I know you're awake, Harrison. Get up, there's someone on the phone."
George covered his face with the pillow beneath his head. "That won't work." He pulled the duvet over his head. "Piss off, Lennon."
"Fine, be that way." He muttered something else to someone on the telephone. "If you're going to be a prick, you can tell Ringo yourself. Why you won't answer, I mean."
Then, there was a quick word-exchange between the two, before John hung up.
Quicker than lightening, George threw himself up from his bed, and pulled his bedroom door open, only to be greeted by Paul too. "I didn't know you were being serious. What did he say?"
John leaned against the doorframe. "Oh, nothing too much. You know, the usual." George seemed disappointed, which made John feel guilty. "Well, he did mention something about popping in, but I wasn't really listening."
"He mentioned what?" George grasped the collar of John's shirt. "You could've said something! I'm not even dressed, for crying out loud!"
John pushed George away from him. "Christ, you are a lunatic." He fixed his collar, straightened his shirt, and shook his head. "You know, you should be thanking me. I didn't have to tell you."
Paul whacked his boyfriend upside the head. "Oi, shut the fuck up." He wrapped an arm around his best friend. "Georgie, as much as I love you, you have terrible fashion sense." He shoved him into the bedroom. "I'll dress you."
Before he received the opportunity to politely say no, the bedroom door was slammed closed, Paul was rummaging through his wardrobe, and many clothing pieces were thrown at him. Following an hour or two, he was changed; he had to admit, it was a decent combination. With a white shirt, he was wearing some black trousers; simplistic, yet stylish. He liked it.
It wasn't too long before someone knocked upon the door. John looked through the window; when he did, he pulled Paul away from the living room, and forced him into the bedroom. That obviously meant one thing; Ringo had arrived.
Exhaling a nervous sigh, George pulled open the door, and welcomed Ringo into the home. With a momentary smile, he walked through, and halted in the centre of the room. Nobody spoke. Silence lingered in the air. They had no idea what to say.
Until one did.
"I love you, George Harrison." Ringo blurted out, and a weight automatically felt as though it lifted from his shoulder. "Despite myself, I fell for your stupid Harrison charm, and I'm sorry that it took me this long to realise." He gently took ahold of George's hands. "I thought that I did the correct thing, but at what cost? I thought I was going to lose you forever, and it scared me. It scared me more than anything, George. Fuck, I've fallen in love with you. I've fallen hopelessly in love with you, and I'm no longer afraid to admit it." Ringo closely inspected his face. "I love you, Georgie."
Instead of responding, George hesitantly moved away from Ringo. "No, you don't love me. You're not...in love with me." He backed away, and only stopped when he reached the door. "Ritchie, you don't love me." With one final glance, he fled out of the house. Something had made him eager to leave, that much was evident.
When he heard someone close the door with an unanticipated force, John exited whichever room he and Paul had entered beforehand. "What the hell are you waiting for? Follow him, you moron."
Ringo spared John a glance. "He doesn't want to see me, John." He defeatedly smiled. "What am I supposed to say, hm? He doesn't believe me."
Paul exited the room behind his boyfriend. "Can you blame him?" He edged closer toward Ringo, and pulled him into a gentle hug. "Don't waste a perfect opportunity to be happy, Ritchie."
Ringo reduced his voice to a small whisper. "Are you speaking from experience?" The young man nodded; he certainly was. "When you decided to follow John, how did you know that you chose to do the right thing?" Ringo broke the hug. "Was it the right thing to do?"
Paul thought back to the distant memory. "When I imagined my life without him, it was pointless. I needed him, Ritchie, just as much as he needed me." He glanced at John. "If that meant breaking the law, I didn't care. I couldn't stand the thought of losing him."
Whilst Paul continued speaking, Ringo stared off into the distance. He knew what he had to do. "If that meant breaking the law, I didn't care." Ringo repeated; Paul covered his smile when he heard it. "Thank you, Paul. You too, John."
With one final glance, he fled out of the house.
He searched, and searched, and searched, and searched. He searched until he found whom he was looking for. There he was, accompanied by nothing but the howling wind, surrounded by an occasional drop of rain. There George Harrison was, looking as gorgeous as ever. "Oi, wait up!"
Instead of responding, George gestured toward a nearby corner; Ringo had no idea where it led to, but he didn't particularly care. George was willing to speak with him, and that was all that mattered.
Then, the occasional raindrop transformed into a full-on storm. It bounced off each surface it could manage, and soaked both men from head to toe. Though, they payed minimal attention to the rain, and instead focused upon one another.
When they eventually reached the corner, Ringo realised that it was an alleyway. It wasn't a great place to speak, yet he didn't mind. "I need to say something, and you're going to listen. You're not going to interrupt, and you're not going to tell me what I do and don't do. You got that, Harrison?"
No reply.
Despite the silence, Ringo continued. "Before we met, my mum told me that I had to search for the one I love. I had no idea what she meant; I didn't think I ever would. Now, I do. Even in the darkest night, I'd search for you, and given that I used to be scared of the dark, that's a big thing." Despite himself, George chuckled. "We both know this is illegal, but I can't stand the thought of losing you, and if breaking the law is what I have to do to be with you, I don't care." He slowly moved forward, and grasped George's face. "I love you, George Harrison. Whether you believe me or not, I love you more than I've ever loved anyone, and I will until the end of my forever."
George was speechless.
Instead of verbally responding, he did something different. Something that he had wanted to do for a long time. Something that took Ringo off guard, yet something he wanted. Needed. Craved. With a sly smirk, George shoved Ringo up against the wall, and trapped his body between his own and the wall.
Well, shit.
"You love me?" George placed his left hand upon Ringo's hip, and placed the other upon his chest; he moved to whisper in his ear. "I don't believe it, Ritchie. Why don't you prove it, hm?"
So, Ringo proved it. Quicker than expected, they were connected in an unfamiliar way. They were kissing; deeply, passionately, and lustfully. Every movement seemed foreign to them; when Ringo opened his mouth, and when George practically shoved his tongue down his throat. When Ringo pulled George in by his waist, and when George moved to grasp Ringo by the face. When Ringo deepened the kiss by tilting his head, and when George moaned against his mouth. When Ringo overpowered George, and when George allowed him to take control. Everything seemed foreign to them, yet they enjoyed it more than anything.
2024
Upon feeling an arm curl around his waist, Ringo chuckled. "You're awake, I see." He looked at his husband over his shoulder. "How did you sleep?"
George rested his chin upon his shoulder, placed his other hand upon his hip, and pressed a small kiss upon his collarbone. "Not too bad. You?"
"Not too bad." Ringo placed whichever utensil he was using upon the kitchen countertop, and spun around to face George. "You look like you've just rolled outta bed."
George slumped against his husband, placing his face against his neck, peppering kisses wherever he could manage. "I did."
Ringo shivered beneath his touch. "George, love, I'm cooking us breakfast." When the intensity per kiss increased, Ringo groaned. "Christ, Georgie."
George smirked against his neck. "I still have this effect on you. After all this time, I see?" He pulled away from his neck. "I love you."
"After all this time, hm?" Ringo teased, placing an arm around his neck. "Good. I love you too." With a shy smile, he kissed his husband. "Well, no, I'm in love with you. Hopelessly."
Hopelessly in love.