Dear diary, Am I going mad? My heart seems to leap in my chest when I talk to John and I feel as if I'm twelve years again and trying to ask a girl out. But this is one of my mates. This is John - not a bird. I shouldn't be feeling this way. I shouldn't have these feelings. Dear diary, what should I do?

John, feeling as though he had stepped into George's personal sphere without permission, carefully set the guitarist's diary back down on his desk.

"George.. He.. Has feelings for me? Hm.. He did check on me when I was locked in the men's room.. And now with him retorting at that rude reporter.. He's been to kind to me." John thought. Looking over at George's new chubby frame, John couldn't help but let out a small smile. "He does look rather cute with that fat on him. Very squishy, like a stuffed animal." He thought with a smile. John was about to reach under and feel George's plush belly, but thought otherwise. "I don't want to wake him up.."

Instead, he left George lying on the bed, drifting off into the lands of slumber. I'll talk to him when he's up," he thought. We need to have a talk. The idea filled his stomach with butterflies. George certainly isn't the only one who feels like a twelve-year-old boy.

He walked out of the room, lost in his own thoughts, shutting the door carefully behind him. He didn't see the guitarist's eyes flicker open and shut before sleep finally took him.

After a while George did wake up at the sound of his stomach growling. "After binging for so long I get hungry so easily.. I think I'll head down and get something.."

Getting up from bed, George looked through the closet in order to change into a more comfortable outfit. "Hmm? What's that smell? Is that.. Freshly baked biscuits? Who baked them?"

His nose in the air, he tiptoed down the hallway, sniffing loudly. It seemed that the smell was coming from one of the bedrooms down the hall. Curious (and more than a little hungry) George decided to investigate.

Inhaling deeply, his nostrils flared like coin slots in a telephone booth. The source of the tantalising scent was room 666. An ominous note resounded in his head, but he ignored it because the pang in his stomach overrode any jolts of fear.

He knocked, tentatively, because he was a polite lad and he didn't want to barge into someone's room without knocking. When there was no answer, he felt justified in prying the door open with a shove from a now-meaty shoulder.

"Ahhhh..." he released a sigh of desire. Lying hot and naked on a fine white plate was a pile of biscuits. The urge was strong. Very strong.

Ignoring his better instincts, George scarfed down the sinful eatables (burning his mouth in the process). When he was finished, and was wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he became aware of a...presence. He looked up - and screamed.

Crouched in the corner was a woman. A short woman with an evil look in her eyes. "I baked those for Jooooooohn!" she shrieked.

The birds in the tree outside fell off their branches. Somewhere in the distance, a dog howled mournfully.

"What are you?" George asked, petrified.

She bared her teeth. "They call me...Yoko."

"Yoko?.. That's an odd name."

"Well to English people yes. Anyways, you ate those cookies I baked for John!!"

"Well I'm sorry.. I didn't know they were for him.. You close friends with him?"

"He did meet me that one time at my exhibition in the art gallery and I knew we were meant to be. So I followed him all across the ocean to this hotel and went undercover in order to find him."

"You.. So lemme get this straight. You stalked him? I'd hate to be a buzzkill Miss Yoko but this isn't the best time to be seeing John."

"It isn't? When is it not a good time for biscuits?"

"It's not that.. John's not feeling good about his weight and I don't think the sight of food will please him."

"Oh don't worry, those cookies are very low in calories and sugar."

"Well.. Try and give him his space okay? I don't want him to feel uncomfortable around you."

"Good thing he doesn't know that I've got his home phone number with me." She thought.

With a change of heart, she bared her teeth again. "You know what? I have a few boxes of chocolate-chip biscuits. Why don't I give you one to share with John?"

"Er," a worried look passed across George's face, "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Nonsense." She widened her mouth even more, showing off her gums. "You must take a box with you."

"Umm..."

"Please. You'll hurt my feelings if you don't." she added, forcefully.

"Er..."

"I will be grievously hurt!"

I doubt it. But to get her off his back, he nodded, accepting a box.

She beamed. "Good. Now, don't eat them all. Share some with John."

Heading back to his room, George saw John waiting for him on his bed. "Oh.. I didn't know you'd be here Johnny." George stuttered.

"Well I would like to talk to you about some-what's that in your hands?"

"Oh this? Some short woman wearing all white wanted me to give this to you."

"Must be one of the fans. They always send out any treats they can."

"The biscuits smell amazing, but I'm a bit unnerved by Yoko's behavior..."

"Yoko?"

"That's the name of the woman I got these biscuits from. She seemed really obsessed with you.."

"C'mon George, all the fans have at least one Beatle they obsess over. It's not like she would be planning to drug them or anything."

Eventually the delicious aroma of the cookies managed to push aside George's suspicion about Yoko and he opened the box. "I feel like I could eat the whole thing! But we should save some for Paul and Ringo as well."

"Yeah yeah, I haven't eaten in a while."

"You seem a lot better now John." George pointed out.

"Well Paul finally gave me a sincere apology and.. You can say I had a little help from my little lead guitarist." John replied.

George felt a surge of warmth in his chest.

"Don't blush - I have you to thank for so much." John edged closer to the younger Beatle. "Most of which I've never thanked you for. You've been a constant presence in my life, sticking by me through thick and thin and I've never appreciated the-" He broke off, abruptly, as George's lips suddenly covered his.

"Mmf." George released the other Beatle's lips with a jerk, ducking his face away to hide the flare of colour across his cheekbones. "I - I don't know why I did that."

George couldn't face John, worried about having to deal with an outburst, but that didn't happen.

Instead John simply got George to face him and hugged him tight. "You're not the only one who's shy to kiss."

"You.. You like me back?"

"After everything you've done for me, I've grown to have some.. Feelings for you.." John whispered to him, blushing hard. "I just didn't know how to say it.. I turn into a stuttering mess whenever I see you.."

🦋

Hey guys! Well, that ended on a happy note! Is all truly well?

We shall see!

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