George Harrison✧

---- Greece, 1965 —⁠—⁠✷

Beatlemania wouldn't leave them alone, and as a solution, the Beatles went to Greece for a vacation.

Warm breeze, reckless waves wetting your feet while strong hands delicately caressed your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder as you both watched the sunset.

— Don't you dare. —

You said, feeling that he was about to lift you in his arms; he only smiled and, like a stubborn child, he picked you up. Holding you by your thighs while trying to pull you into the sea, you laughed giddily as you felt the water on your back and his laughter in your ears, like waves that relaxed your soul and gave you the impression of only one thing: you were in love, and every day George reminded you why.

— I hope I didn't ruin your hair —.

George said, stroking your wet hair, without letting go of you in his arms while the water reached their waists.

– I hate you –.

You said, tangling your fingers in his hair; he fell silent, looking into your eyes as if the soul could speak, as if his eyes wanted to strip your being and tear through your feelings with his teeth.

– Marry me –.

– What? –.

– Marry me.–.

Two words, three syllables in the first and two in the second. The question every woman dreams of hearing, or at least what you wanted to hear most. You looked into his eyes because men are liars and life had proven it to you, but feeling his gaze on yours, and a little warmth in your chest that made your cheeks prickle and forced you to smile.

— Marry me, {{user}}—

He repeated, and the voice escaped your throat.