The One About The Girl With The Eyes

Disclaimer: I do not own The Beatles, or anything else you may recognize. This fictional story is merely a way for me to get some writing practice and to have a bit of fun. I am not making any money from this story.

Ch. 1

As I watched Paul climb through my bedroom window, then land on the floor with a thump, I couldn't help wondering how on Earth we had ever become friends. We've been friends for as long as I can remember, and he's been climbing into my room late at night for most of that time. Nothing like that has happened; both of us are grossed out by the very idea of kissing each other on the mouth, or doing any romantic crap together really. We've been friends for far too long to see each other in that way, especially since neither of us has wanted to try anything like that with the other.

Paul springs up from his place on the floor, nearly tackling me in his enthusiasm. I'm immediately on my guard, wondering what he's up to this time.

"Paul…what's going on?"

He grins at me.

"I got into a band."

"That's fantastic!"

I have to whisper-shout so I don't wake my father.

"That's actually why I'm here. I brought the lead singer to meet you."

"Paul! I'm hardly decent for receiving visitors!"

I tug on one sleeve of my nightgown to emphasize my point.

"You let me see you like this all the time."

I roll my eyes.

"That's a different matter altogether. We've known each other practically since birth. You seeing me like this does not mean that I should meet somebody, for the first time, mind you, in my nightgown!"

Paul rolls his eyes at me.

"Hurry and get dressed then! Seriously, I want you to meet him."

I decide to skip making him use his puppy dog eyes. I sigh, giving in.

"Turn around."

His face lights up, and he hurriedly faces the other way. I dress swiftly.

"Alright."

Paul goes to my window and signals to his friend. Soon enough, there's a second guy climbing through my bedroom window, but this one manages to avoid falling down. He stares at me, clearly curious as to what makes me so important, but quickly hides his curiosity behind a mask of indifference. I roll my eyes, not really caring that it probably wouldn't be considered a polite behavior befitting a young woman such as myself.

"Paul?"

"What?"

I barely manage to repress my laughter.

"You may have wanted us to meet, but I do believe that you may have forgotten something…"

Realization dawned on his face as I trailed off.

"Of course! Sorry. John, this is Opal. Opal, John."

I nod to John, but he doesn't acknowledge me.

"Paul, why're we here?"

Paul sighed.

"I wanted my two friends to meet."

"Yeah, now we've met, let's go."

He climbs out of my window without a second glance at me. Paul turns to me, and I clamp my hand over his mouth.

"Don't even think about apologizing. I'll see you another night."

I release his mouth and step forward into a hug, smiling as I feel his arms wrap around me the same way they always have.

"Night, Opal."

I release him and step back.

"Goodnight, Paul."

He leaves, and I return to my previous attire and position: in my nightgown, and curled up on my side in my bed, facing the window. I drift off to sleep, wondering if I should worry about whether I'll get enough sleep each night from now on.


I'm lying in bed, wishing that I could just fall asleep and forget that today happened. I'm hoping that Paul and John don't visit, as I really don't think that I could handle anyone talking to me right now. My father barely got an explanation out of me before I ran up to my room, and he wound up having to bring my dinner up to me, even though I haven't touched it.

Of course. Today hasn't ended yet, so why on Earth would things get better?

I finally managed to fall asleep, only to be woken by voices under my window. I sit up, grab the fork from my dinner, and throw it towards the window after seeing a hand on the ledge. The hand is quickly removed.

"Opal, come on, it's Paul!"

"Prove it!"

"Fine, I'm coming up, don't throw anything at me. No shoving me out the window, either."

I grab the knife that's lying beside my uneaten dinner, just in case. Two hands appear on the ledge, followed by the face of my best friend.

"Sorry, Paul, but I'm not in the mood to talk."

"Not even to me?"

"Not even to you."

He climbs in anyways. He pulls the fork out of the window ledge, studies it, then holds it out in front of him like a sword. Paul approaches with a grin on his face, but the grin fades to a look of concern when he sees the tear tracks on my cheeks.

"Opal…what's happened?"

My face crumples as I begin to cry, and he's beside me in mere seconds, pulling me into a hug.

"Hey, I'm right here, it's okay…"

These words don't stop my tears, and Paul hurries over to the window.

"John, get up here."

John gracefully springs into my room, looking worried by the sight of me sobbing.

"What happened?"

Paul shrugs, and my bed sinks on either side of me as they sit down. I try to stop crying.

"The…he…they…It cheated on me!"

Both boys stiffen beside me, and murderous looks spread across their faces.

"Don't even think about it!"

"But, Opal…"

My voice is sharp.

"No."

John and Paul each wrap an arm around me, settling for comforting me instead of pummeling my ex-boyfriend, though it's clear that they still want to do the latter. We sit in silence, then John remembers something.

"Hey, we brought someone we want you to meet."

I dive under my covers, pulling them up to my chin. My friends laugh, and John goes over to the window.

"George! It's alright, get up here!"

There's silence as a boy who looks to be my age climbs through the window. I'm impressed that he manages it without making any noise, John and Paul always make a little bit of noise. He draws nearer to my bed, and I realize that I recognize him. Paul looks rather eager for us to meet, possibly because he wants to distract me from thoughts of my ex.

"Opal, this is George. George, Opal is the girl that I was telling you about."

George Harrison's dark eyes study my face for a moment, and I learn that it is possible to feel exposed even when wearing pajamas and hiding under your covers.

"Opal, you look familiar. Have we met before?"

I shake my head, both in reply, and in an attempt to shake off the feeling of being so exposed.

"No. We do ride the same bus, though."

He nods, apparently satisfied by that explanation, then turns to Paul.

"She's that girl?"

I frown, wondering whether I should be offended, while Paul nods enthusiastically.

"Yeah, Opal is the girl who can tell amazing bedtime stories."

I roll my eyes, trying to resist the urge to slap him.

Paul became convinced that my bedtime stories had amazing powers during the weeks after his mother's death, when he would spend the day in my room, then go home, only to show up again after his father had gone to bed. My stories had eased him to sleep, and he believes that they could cure anyone of insomnia.

Paul turned to me.

"Please? George hasn't been able to sleep well lately, and it's taking its toll on his playing."

"I've had a lot of trouble lately too," I mutter. George steps closer to the bed, where John, Paul, and I are lying down.

"You don't need to help me; I just wanted to meet the girl that Paul and John kept talking about."

I sigh, extracting one of my arms from under the covers to pat the empty space beside me.

"Lie down, I'll try to help."

He does so hesitantly, clearly not sure about this idea. Paul curls up at my feet while John lies down to my right. Paul sits up so he can see my face.

"Opal, can you please tell the one about the girl with the eyes?"

I smile, used to hearing this request from Paul.

"Sure."

I take a deep breath, exhale, and begin.

"Her eyes when she was happy were warm and soft and brown. When she was angry, her eyes grew cold, and they would strike fear into those who saw them."

Before I could continue, there was a loud voice calling to me from outside. I sprang out of bed.

"Quick, get into the wardrobe and don't make a sound."

My voice was barely audible over the shouting, but the boys got the message and piled into my wardrobe. I shut the doors behind them, just before my dad burst into the room.

"What on Earth is going on?"

The voice outside continues yelling.

"My ex was cheating on me, so I dumped him. He seems to think I'm his property, but I'm NOT!"

My dad leans out the window.

"You! Get out of here before I phone the police!"

"She has to take me back! That little bitch won't find anyone else who will put up with her!"

I quickly lean against the doors of the wardrobe so the boys can't get out, and my father runs off to phone the police. As soon as my door shuts behind him, I let the boys out of the wardrobe, hissing for them to stay out of sight and be quiet. My ex is still carrying on outside.

"Fucking pathetic, that's what she is! She couldn't get a guy if she tried!"

I finally crack. I storm over to the window, easily dodging Paul's outstretched arms that are trying to stop me. I stick my head outside.

"You forgot something, scum!"

I see him look up in confusion, and I realize that he's drunk; even though I can't see his face from here.

"What're you talking about?!"

I feel my lips turn up slightly into a smirk.

"You're the only bloke who's ever dated me! What's that say about you?!"

I slam the window shut before he can reply, and I hold onto the ledge, trying to get my breathing under control. I hear John start to approach, then Paul warning him against it. I finally turn around as the police arrive.

"They're here."

The boys watch with me as the police drag my ex away.

My dad goes back to bed, and the boys all pile up around me on my bed, falling asleep when I re-start the story. I slip away from wakefulness, only rising just before dawn so the boys can get back to Paul's house without being caught.


I was young when my mother left, but I was old enough to know what she thought of my father. Words like 'pathetic', 'insignificant', and 'arse' were in my vocabulary at the age of five, and Paul was the only person who could calm me after they argued. He learned early on not to swear in front of me, if only because I would cry whenever he did. John only said 'arse' one time in front of me, and he wound up apologizing for several nights afterwards.


The second night after I broke up with my ex, Paul visited me by himself. He wrapped his arms around me, then pulled me until I was lying down with his shoulder as a pillow. I immediately grabbed onto his shirt, bunching part of it up in my fist as I tried to hold back my tears. Paul's left hand moves across and down my back, loosening tense muscles until I finally crack, letting the tears flow.

Paul has dealt with this twice before: first, after my mother left and I attempted to shove Paul back out the window after he had first come in; the second, after John had said 'arse' in front of me, coincidentally on the anniversary of the day my mother had left.

Paul kept moving his hand around on my back, pressing harder each time my crying slowed. He understands how much I hate crying, so he helps me to get it out of my system in bursts. He presses my back gently, barely touching it at first, then presses slightly harder, loosening my tensest muscles. I cry for what feels like hours, eventually running out of tears.

"Thanks, Paul."

His hand quits rubbing my back, and I'm pulled closer to him.

"Of course."

We're silent for a long while, and I would have thought he was sleeping if he hadn't been playing with my hair.

"Paul?"

"Hmm?"

"What did I do wrong?"

He stops playing with my hair.

"What do you mean?"

"He…cheated on me. I want to know why."

I feel Paul's chest rise, then fall, very slowly.

"He's a bloody fool, that's why."

"But if I had done something different, did everything he asked…"

My sentence is cut off by the shock of Paul sitting up suddenly.

"Lass, listen to me."

He gently tilts my face up to look into my eyes.

"You did nothing wrong. He was a bloody idiot for pressuring you. You're brilliant. More stubborn than John at times, but you've got a heart of gold. For cryin' out loud, you've got George begging me to let him come over so he can see you again, and John wants to visit too!"

"Really?"

He chuckles.

"Opal, they love talking to you. I'm not sure I've ever seen John so willing to sit and listen to someone our age. When he upset you, he wound up mad at himself for days. Like I said, you've got a heart of pure gold, and those who are let in either appreciate it, or use it against you. Your ex was stupid enough to do the latter. Don't let him stop you finding someone smart."

Paul lets go of my chin, and I lean my head on his chest again. We sit in silence until just before dawn. As Paul carefully climbs out the window, he says something.

"I'll be back tonight. Is it alright if George comes?"

I smile.

"I like that idea."

Paul pulls himself up just enough to kiss my cheek, then drops out of sight. I walk back to bed, falling asleep before I can completely lie down.


That night, as planned, Paul is climbing through my window with George following. I'm in my nightgown, which practically looks like a circus tent on me, and Paul practically crushes me in a hug. As he lets go of me and steps back, I look past him to see George blushing. Paul notices, and I quickly clamp a hand over his mouth before he can say a word.

"George?"

I try to catch his gaze, but his eyes are firmly pointed towards the floor.

"George, would you feel better if I put some proper clothes on?"

He nods, turning even redder. I release Paul and grab some clothes.

"Turn around you lot."

George looks like he's about to dive out of the window, but Paul simply turns around where he is. I dress quickly, then tap Paul's shoulder.

"George."

No response.

"George?"

Paul looks confused as to why he isn't getting a response. I sigh, going over to the window to get George.

"George?"

He jumps, nearly hitting his head on the window.

"Hey, take it easy, I'm dressed properly now, I swear."

He turns, and I see that he looks a bit pale. He still won't meet my eyes. He is, however, willing to look at my face instead of the floor, which I decide to count as progress for the time being.

"See? I'm dressed, you don't have anything to worry about."

"It isn't proper," he mutters, causing me to laugh.

"Lad, the fact that either of you are in my room, at night, isn't proper to begin with. The fact remains that all we're going to do is talk, sleep, and maybe play a game or sing."

He nods, and follows Paul and me to my bed, where we all take a seat. Paul turns to look at me.

"Lass, how're ya feeling?"

I shake my head.

"That bad?"

Warm arms pull me onto Paul's lap, and I reach out blindly as tears fill my eyes, and I manage to grab George's hand. Paul whispers in my ear, "It's alright. Opal, he isn't worth your tears."

"Who on Earth was she dating?"

"Conrad."

"That bloke in my grade?!"

I feel a hand with calloused fingertips grab my hand that isn't cutting off circulation in one of George's hands.

"Opal, please look at me."

I look up into George's eyes, feeling rather surprised to find him gazing back at me.

"He isn't worth your tears, honest. He thinks highly of himself, but he's just an idiot, come on now."

Funnily enough, George's voice is somewhat more effective than Paul's at getting me to stop crying.

"He's a bloody fool, and you deserve better."

He pauses for a moment, looking nervous.

"Besides, with three lads climbing through your bedroom window at night, I'm sure you can find someone better than Conrad. Someone nicer, and better looking too."

He winks at me as he delivers the last line, and I burst into giggles. A grin flashes across his face, then he looks at Paul and cracks up. I twist until I can see Paul's face, and nearly fall off of his lap due to how hard I'm laughing. Poor Paul looks so lost. I hug him once I calm down a bit, and he loses his confused look. I tackle George when I hug him, forcing him to lie down with me on top of him. Paul lies down too, so I crawl on top of him, reaching out to grab George. We fall asleep quickly, and my broken heart begins to heal.


*Tap* *Tap Tap* "Go away."

My voice is scratchy due to my cold, and I doubt that Paul can hear me. I attempt to sit up, but quickly realize how futile it is. I hear my window open, and I grab the note from my nightstand.

"I have a cold. Stay back!"

Paul chuckles as he reads the letter out loud.

"Opal, I've been here the past three nights, I'm not going to get sick if I haven't already."

I manage to weakly mutter, "So you think," then see John and George standing by the window. I point towards them, then towards the window. John just grins, then flops down on my bed. Paul lies down too. George, however, picks up my medicine from my nightstand.

"Is it time to take this?"

I glance at my clock, then nod. George sets the bottle down, then wraps his arms around me.

"One…two…three."

He pulls me to sit up, then grabs my medicine and pours out the required amount into a tablespoon (I'd been using a spoon that was too large so I could avoid spilling the medicine). I open my mouth wide, feeling a bit like a baby bird as George gave me the medicine. He set the spoon down, then prepared to help me lie down again.

"One…two…three."

I gladly sink down into my pillow, feeling exhausted. George lies down beside me, and I pull him towards me as much as I can.

Since the first night when just Paul and George had come to visit, George had become a…teddy bear of sorts. No matter how we went to sleep, my arms always wound up wrapped firmly around him. Thankfully, Paul had been understanding about it, though he did like to joke that we were practicing to be a married couple. John, however, had not heard the jokes or seen it happen yet.

George, seeing that I'm too weak to pull him as close as I'd like, scoots closer. I try to hoist myself up enough to lay on top of him, knowing that he typically gave off enough body heat that he could help me warm up now, but I can't quite manage to pull myself up. He brushes a strand of hair out of my face and looks into my eyes.

"On top?"

I nod, mouthing the word 'please'. He smiles, carefully shifting me and himself until I was laying on him, my head resting on his chest. I fall asleep, only to wake up sneezing an hour later. I try to stifle the sound, turning away from the boys and covering my mouth, but it's no use.

"Ya allergic to us now or what?"

I hear a grunt, and realize that Paul must have elbowed John in the stomach. George carefully shifts us until we're upright, patting my back gently. My sneezing fit finally stops, and I put my hand up to my throat.

"Sore?"

I nod, clearing my throat to speak, and wincing. George puts a finger to my lips.

"Don't try talking, you'll only make things worse."

He carefully leans back; and I cuddle into him, managing to wrap my arms around his torso and my legs halfway around his waist.

I wake to the sounds of the boys arguing, and realize that I'm wrapped around George in a way that's far from proper. I attempt to lift my head, but realize that George is stroking my hair as he argues with John.

"Mate, you have to quit coming here, that's all there is to it."

I feel guitar-calloused fingers rub the back of my neck, but they're quickly removed. I whine softly at the loss; those fingers had been helping me feel better. The arguing stopped at the sound of my whine, and I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turn my head to face Paul and John (whose hand is on my shoulder), and I try to speak.

"George should keep coming here."

My voice is weak and scratchy, but slightly louder than before. John looks concerned by my idea.

"Look at how you are laying, lass. It's not exactly a good idea to lay that way with a teenage boy if you aren't trying to get a reaction from him."

I can feel my face turning red at John's statement. Paul looks over at John.

"She's slept like that on me before; do I have to quit visiting her too?"

The boys clearly weren't expecting my reaction to that. I tried to get closer to Paul immediately, but my strength gave out halfway there. I nearly knocked John off the bed, did knock the wind out of Paul's lungs, and still had my legs around George's waist. George looked over at John with a sarcastic smile.

"Looks like we're trapped now. What ever will we do?"

I hear and feel Paul laughing under me.

"John, I trust you guys. I would lock my window if I didn't. I've been around Paul for years, and George just makes a really good teddy bear."

Silence. I feel guitar-calloused on the back of my neck again, and I relax.

"Paul?"

"John?"

"Why is George her teddy bear?"

"He's capable of holding still when he sleeps."

"That, and he emits enough warmth to leave no need for a blanket, unless I'm sick."

I feel two pairs of hands grab me, shifting me so I'm lying on George again. His arms wrap around me, and I let out a giggle.

"I'm also the only teddy bear she's met that cuddles back."

George's tone is smug, but I decide that he's allowed to be, seeing as he really is the only teddy bear I've met that cuddles back.