Chapter Text
"George! Come on! You're gonna miss it! It's the Quarrymen!" You yell from atop the brick walls surrounding the small church. George's fingers grasp the edges of the brown and red brick, hoisting himself up onto the top. They did this a lot, watching different bands, and sitting on the wall. They always sat together.
You sit next to him with a smile, watching him pull twigs out of his greased hair from all the times he fell down. You reach over and take a small twig out from behind his ear.
"You never get better at this," you laugh. He rolls his eyes and punches you in the arm.
"At least the calluses in my fingers came from playing my guitar and not climbing walls all day," he retorts. You show him your hands that had splinters and scrapes from climbing trees comparing them to his. His own were similar with blister scars from playing his guitar.
"Climbing walls is more fun," you say. He shakes his head, searching the crowd for his friend Paul. He wanted to join Paul's band, but he'd heard nothing of Paul talking to his bandmates.
"This isn't the crowd to say that to," he replies. The cute brown, almost black haired teddy boy walks towards where the band is setting up. He turns back and waves at George.
"Paul gets all the ladies," George mutters. You can't help but snort at his comment.
"That's because he flaunts himself around." You reply, holding back a laugh. "You shouldn't idolize someone like that anyway."
"I never said I idolized him." He rolls his eyes at your comment. They both knew it was a lie. You and him were younger than the others. They were seen as kids compared to the older band members. George treated Paul and John like role models.
You look across the crowd, noting the band's teddy boy looks. George had told you about the different boys. There was John, Paul, Stuart, and Pete.
"So, are any of them available?" You say with a smirk.
George punches your arm. "Yes, but you certainly don't need to get involved with any of them. You're too prissy."
You scoff, punching him right back. "You take that back."
"It's true--"
"It is not!" You snap back at him playfully.
"OH, look at me, my parents came from money and so do I," George mocks you.
"You're lucky my mom likes you, or my dad would definitely have never let you come to the house again if he heard that comment." you reply. A loud pluck echoes through the small church garden. The sharp nosed, John Lennon tunes his favored guitar. George admires him as you fall into a comfortable silence.
You've known George for longer than you care to remember. Liverpool was a perfect place to mess around and enjoy the prospects of youth. George taught you that. Now all he wanted was to be a part of a band.
You've heard him play his guitar a few times. He was extraordinarily good. He taught you a few strings and a few simple songs, but nothing like what he could truly do.
All he had to do was get an in with Paul and he would be in the Quarry Men.
"Has Paul talked to them yet? Of getting you in the band and stuff?" you ask. He shrugs, not quite meeting your gaze.
"No, at least I haven't heard anything...I think he's content with where the band is right now," George mutters, messing with his hands.
"Why not talk to John?" you press once more. You wanted him to feel confident, to put himself out there and actually get into the band he dreamed of being in.
"I don't know him," George says.
"Well, you're about to," you say, jumping down from the wall into the garden. The small garden next to the church was grown by the community. You liked coming here with George to plant flowers and check on the ever growing vegetables.
"Where are you going!" he calls out at you. You walk through the small crowd over to the almond eyed, John Lennon.
"Hey, John," you say with a perfect smile. A little flattering could go a long way in your mind. You knew that John was older than both George and Paul. He certainly was charming, but he had a certain smugness about him that became a turn off.
"Ah, it's the girl Paul's friend hangs out with," John chuckles. "Want an autograph or something?"
"No, I want you to hear George's skills. He's a really good guitarist," you explain, pointing at George who was running through the crowd towards you. John raises an eyebrow, but chuckles at your blunt response.
"We don't exactly need any new members right now, but if he wants to play back up--"
"He'll do anything."
"Brilliant," John says as George catches up. He is panting really hard like a dog, but he forces himself to meet John's gaze.
"I'm so sorry about her--"
"Would you like to try out?" John asks, handing him his guitar. George's eyes widen and he looks over at you before he takes the guitar.
"Are you serious?" he asks.
"Why wouldn't I be?" John replies. George glances at you once more, before throwing the strap over his head. He racks his brain for the perfect song, one that could really show off his skill. He'd come up with his own melodies before, but none of them would do. Instead he went with a classic: "Raunchy" by Bill Justis.
You can't help put smile as he plucked at the instrument with such grace that even John seemed impressed. You turn towards John, plastering a smile on your face to try and encourage him about George's playing. John only glances over once, his eyes draw to George's playing.
The melody drifted all around the small church and over into the courtyard. Birds whistled a long, wanting to emulate his playing. George left one last strum before forcing his gaze to meet John's. Everyone stood in silence for a moment. John contorts his face in every direction as he tries to figure out what to say.
The sounds of some other men come down the steps. Paul, Stuart, and Pete are laughing and joking around as boys their age do. John turns to them with a big smirk.
"We got our back up boys!" John shouts. Paul notices George and runs over to him.
"Ha! I knew you had it in you!" he cheers, scuffling George's hair. George immediately turns to you and hugs you.
"Thank you!" he says, giving you a big squeeze. This was new. He didn't hug very often, but something told you that you had done something huge for him.
"You know I always got your back," you say. He releases you from the hug, his hands resting on your shoulders.
"I don't know what I would do without you," he replies.
"Well you wouldn't be playing back up for the Quarrymen, that's for sure."
He doesn't give you his usual playful punch, but rather a considerate nod. George is soon swept away by the other boys to explore the venue. You stay behind, knowing you will be seeing less of him from now on.