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Summary
George's lips moved, forming words he couldn't quite voice. John leaned closer. “What is it, Georgie?”
“Why?” George whispered finally. His voice was hoarse, barely audible. “Why did you do this?”
John's expression softened into something that might have been affection. "Because I love you. Because you're mine. Because I couldn't stand watchin’ you waste yourself on meditation and spirituality and that wife of yours when you should be with me."
“This isn't… love,” George said.“Isn't it?” John kissed his forehead. “Maybe not the kind we write songs about. But it's real. And it's ours. And you're goin’ to learn to love it too. I'll make sure of that.”
He pulled George into his arms, cradling him against his chest, and George was too weak to pull away. He lay there, listening to John's heartbeat, and felt the last of his resistance crumble into dust.OR
Isolated in India, the lines between devotion and control begin to blur. George only wanted John's validation and to be seen as an equal; John wanted everything George had left to give.