Don't Ever Change- George Harrison Love Story

Hello, my lovelies! :) Getting out of this horrid writers block now, and I gift you all a story about a girl named Penelope (although everyone calls her Poppy) who just so happens to be John Lennon's younger sister, who travels alongside The Beatles from the start, and develops a romance with the lead guitarist. ;) Warning: Swears, possible sexualness later on, etc.... As always, rate, comment, etc. and of course, ENJOY! * note: this is a work of fiction *

Chapter 1

Raunchy- Friday, May 23rd, 1958

"I'll get it," I thought to myself. "Not like John listens to me anyways."
I walked up to the front door and opened it, only to see a boy who looked about 10 years old with a guitar slung over his shoulder.
"Is... is this John's house?" he asked shyly.
I looked him over carefully. Not only did he have the guitar over his shoulder, but he had his hair all quiffed up. It looked like a turban, it was so big. He was definitely a Teddy Boy.
"John Lennon?" I asked. He nodded. "Yes... unfortunately," I replied, making him laugh.
"I take it you aren't his girlfriend, then?" he asked.
I burst out laughing. "N-no... I'm his... his sister," I gasped out between laughs.
After letting my laughter die down, I sighed heavily. "You're the newest member of his band, right? Come in, then," I told him, leading him inside and up the stairs to John's room, where we stopped.
Not even bothering to knock, I yelled, "Joooooohhhhhhhhnnnnnn, your newest band member's here!"
An angry John opened the door. "'Ello, George, come in," he said, completely ignoring me.
I followed George inside John's room, sitting on John's bed, knowing it would piss him off, Paul- another band member- looking up at me from where he sat on the floor, messing with his guitar.
"Hi, Paul," I said.
Paul opened his mouth to reply, but John cut him off, saying, "No, no, no. What do you think you're doing, Pe-nel-o-peeeeee?"
I glared at him. He always called me Penelope, he always accentuated it, and he always dragged it out, just to annoy me. He knew I much rather preferred my nickname, Poppy.
"I want to listen to your band, of course, Johnny," I replied as sweetly as I could muster, batting my eyes.
"No. I don't care if you're my- ugh- sister, I am not letting you sit in my room and listen to us play," John protested.
"I can't believe she is your sister," George said quietly, smirking, earning a death glare from John and a laugh from Paul and I.
"Yeah, they don't look anything alike, do they?" Paul asked George.
"No, not at all," said George.
"Amen to that, eh Georgie?" Paul said to George jokingly, elbowing him and winking.
Both George and I blushed a deep crimson.
It was true though; John and I only shared the brown eyes and brown, curly hair; although even so, my eyes were big while John's were small, not to mention the fact that John's hair had many more red highlights than mine did, and my hair was much, much, much curlier than his.
I also shared my brothers temper, which is why I snapped at George, "Why are you blushing? I doubt you even understand what Paul meant! What're you, 11!?"
"I just turned 15, actually," George responded quietly.
Paul must've sensed an awkward situation coming up, because he jumped right in to say, "Yeah, considering his age, he's a really good guitarist, Poppy! You really ought to hear 'im play!"
George once again blushed, but said nothing.
"Well, out with it then! I came to hear you play, didn't I?" I demanded impatiently.
George looked at me with wide eyes, then started fumbling around, setting up his guitar. When he finished setting it up, he looked between us and paused.
"Go on, do 'Raunchy'! C'mon! Do it, George!" Paul encouraged him.
My eyes flickered over to John, who stood there watching George, looking almost intrigued with an (almost) knowing smile on his face.
George took a deep breath and started playing the chords to 'Raunchy', a song I was familiar with.
My jaw must have been touching the floor. He. Had. TALENT.
My eyes never left him while he played; I was so focused on the intent expression he wore while playing, as well as the way his fingers flowed so smoothly along the neck of the guitar, although somehow he looked so calm; he didn't look stressed about trying to get every right, because the notes came naturally to him. He was truly made to play guitar.
It felt like he had only been playing two seconds when the last note rang out.
Utter silence.
John and Paul turned to me with an 'I told you so' look on their faces, while George just looked...worried.
I managed to remember how to speak and said, "George... just... wow. That was absolutely fab!"
George let out a big sigh of relief and smirked proudly.
"Gee... thanks P-.... uh, I'm sorry, but I'm confused... is your name Penelope or Poppy?" George asked, an embarrassed and apologetic look on his face.
John and Paul lost it, burting into a fit of hysterical giggles.
I heaved a sigh and glared at John. "Call me Poppy, please," I practically yelled over John and Paul, now rolling on the gorund, clutching their stomachs.
"Come on, you two, it wasn't that funny!" I said.
George gave me a sheepish grin. "I'm sorry about all this, Poppy..." he apologized,
"'S'alright, I'm used to it," I said, smiling warmly at him. "I'm sorry for judging you without even giving you a chance."
"Oh, that's fine. I'm used to it too. I have two older brothers, so..."
"Ah, I understand," I said knowingly.
John and Paul got over their laugh attack then, and continued to play their guitars. I stayed to listen to them, John still being wary of me, but letting me stay.
After about an hour of that, George stopping playing, looking quizzically at John's guitar.
"It's been bugging me all night, and I just have to ask.... what's that?" George asked John.
"What's what?" John replied, still strumming.
"Well, you aren't playing a guitar; they have six strings, and yours only has four," George said.
John stopped playing. "/What/?"
George nodded.
"Actually, George is right, John. I guess I never really noticed that before," Paul said.
"Huh. I always thought it was normal to play it this way," said John,"I guess you'll have to teach me how to play properly then, Georgie!"
We all looked at him, mouths gaping open. We were all shell-shocked.
"And Paul can, too," added John when he noticed our faces.
"No... that's not why we're so shocked. It's just... you never let anyone tell you what to do," I said.
"Well, playing rock 'n' roll is the only thing I've ever thought seriously about, sister dear," John replied, smiling widely.
Suddenly the door swung open, revealing my Aunt Mimi and making me jump. I hadn't heard her come home, let alone come up the stairs.
John and I exchanged a quick glance. Our Aunt was a very stern, strict woman, and although we loved her, she usually got on our nerves. I tried to be nice to her though, seeing as she gave us a home when our mother and father abandoned us. Mimi practically raised John and I.
"What are you doing?" Mimi asked us, clearly annoyed.
"We were just practicing, Miss Smith," Paul replied politely.
"I don't know what; I would hardly call what you play music," Mimi muttered under her breath.
"Who's this?" she asked, noticing George.
"That's George, our new guitarist," John replied.
Mimi sniffed snootily at George. "And what do you think you're doing, bringing this boy around? Look at him! He looks horrendous!"
"Shut up, Mimi!" was all John replied.
Mimi sniffed again and left the room. This time I very clearly heard her go downstairs.
"Hey, does anyone have the time?" George asked suddenly.
"Yeah, I do," I said, looking at my watch. "It's a quarter to six, why?"
"ShIt," he muttered. "Sorry John, but I have to go home for dinner now," he said.
"Well, why don't you and Paul stay here for dinner?" I asked, smiling.
"That sounds great! Thanks Poppy!" Paul said.
"Aw, I'd love to, but I can't, tonight's my night to help make dinner, I'm sorry," George replied, frowning.
"'S'alright, maybe some other night," I said.
"Yeah, I'd like that," George said, and I noticed a light pink color creep onto his cheeks. "See ya John, see ya Paul. Same time tomorrow?"
"Yeah, same time. See ya George," said John.
"Bye George," Paul added, launching immediately into conversation with John.
I rolled my eyes and sighed at their rudeness. "I'll walk you outside," I told George, and we both smiled, walking downstairs and out the front door.
We stopped in front of the gate.
"Listen, George, about Mimi... Don't listen to her. Just ignore her; that's what John and I do," I said.
George laughed. "Yeah, I must look like a pretty good Teddy Boy for her to dislike me that much," he replied.
"I think you look like a great Teddy Boy."
He stopped laughing and locked eyes with me. "T-Thanks, Poppy," he stuttered. I blushed in response.
"I really enjoyed meeting you today," he said.
"So did I," I replied, "I think you're REALLY talented, George."
A pinkish hue returned on his cheeks. "Thanks. I wasn't really sure if I could actually play, you know, Paul being my mate and all; I thought he was lying," he admitted.
"Yeah, Paul tells everyone they're good at everything, so I can see why you were skeptical, but John is the opposite, and George, he really thinks you're talented. You got in his band for a reason! John is the guy who tells the cold, hard, truth to everyone, so if he thinks you're talented... That's a huge compliment."
"Yeah... I guess," George replied shyly, looking down at his feet.
"You're so silly!" I laughed, "I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then, George!"
He gave a weak chuckle. "Yeah, I hope so."
Neither of us knew what to do then, so I just leaned in and gave George a tight hug. I felt him tense up, then relax and hug me tightly back, resting his head on my shoulder.
"Bye, George," I said into his chest.
"Bye, Poppy," he huskily whispered in my ear.
We awkwardly let go of each other, and I opened the little half gate that went up to our knees for George, closing it as he got out.
George stood on the other side of the gate for a moment, staring at me, then gave a little salute to me and started to walk down the sidewalk.
I stood there watching George leave, waving when he turned the corner.
I suddenly felt very lonely. George was a very good hugger, and I missed his warm embrace already.
I walked back inside in almost a trance, right past John's room to my own, flopping down on my bed.
I decided that I liked George, after all.


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