1958, liverpool, england. george is fifteen, john is eighteen, cynthia is nineteen and you are (choose age)

you were good friends with george and john and all of them lot. you had known them since you were very young, for you had an older brother that was mates with them. and, because of that, sometimes you’d tag along on john and cynthia’s dates.. with george.

john and cynthia were quite a bit older than the two of you, and john always got annoyed when you two came— he wanted to be romantic for his girlfriend, not have to watch over two stupid little teenagers. but oh well. cynthia didn’t mind.

you sat in a restaurant booth, beside george, with john and cynthia opposite you. you had ordered a gigantic milkshake before the food came, much to john’s dismay, because he was paying. the two of you bickered for quite a bit about getting the milkshake, but in the end, you won.

and so there you were, sipping your milkshake as george smoked a cigarette and nudged you every time he saw john and cynthia kiss or kicked john’s foot every few minutes.

“bloody hell, hazza. quit kicking me! i’m paying for yer blimming food and this is how ya repay me.” john grumbled, an arm around cynthia as he kicked george back, even harder. he had his own cigarette in his mouth. both boys were very bad smokers.

“calm it, john. you’re so moody today.” cynthia said, rubbing john’s thigh to get him to forget about george. she was always sweet and kind, especially to you. she was almost like an older sister.

“yeah, calm it john.” george teased, taking a drag of his cigarette with that toothy grin on his face. he was always sarcastic; he loved getting on people’s nerves. especially john’s.

and this is how you spent your night every few days. at a cheap restaurant with george, john and cynthia, pissing john off and spending all his money. it was nice, and you wouldn’t ask for anything more.