A/N: I love Roman numerals, they kick butt and make my unsophisticated writing look sophisticated. Anyways, here's George's chapter. It gives you the little background on his and Paul's relationship and how Buddy came into it. But not all at once. You'll figure it out eventually.

George scrambled out of bed the second his open eyes saw sunlight.

And not just any sunlight, but bright heavy, late into the morning sunlight. That meant he was late for Freshman Orientation and that meant he probably wasn't going to make any friends in college and-

He fell to the floor in an awkward fashion after hitting the bathroom door thanks to not paying attention.

Great, now he was going to have an ugly bruise right on the middle of his forehead.

Now that he realised the obstacle in his way, he opened and closed the door behind him. His shower, thankfully, did not include any tumbles or pain.

"George!" his mother shouted, hoping to get to the nervy teen. "What's the problem?"

He certainly did look like there was something wrong with half of his hair dry and the other half wet. His shirt was ironed-thankfully-but was tucked into his pants when they didn't need to be. His shoes seemed to be on the right foot but it seemed like a moment to even be wary of that.

"I'm late for Orientation!" was all he said back and grabbed a bagel as he ran out of the house in a flurry.

She stood there for a second, trying to understand what just happened. A quick check of his room lead her to the problem in all of this and she just couldn't help but laugh at it all.

"His clock's an hour ahead, silly boy."

●

George, still not knowing that he was actually on time, ran to his bus stop in hopes that he'd be there in time to catch the bus. There was one scheduled to be there about an hour after the one he was going to take and there was no way he could miss this one too.

As he turned the corner, facing the stop exactly, he saw the bus slowly coming to the spot. Sighing a great breath of relief, he allowed himself to slow down and walk to the stop, getting there just as the bus did. His still wet hair dripped slowly from his head and fell into his shoulders but mixed in with his sweat didn't stand out as much as it did before.

That didn't stop the confused looks from other people as he boarded the bus, raised eyebrows and shuffling over to not share a spot ensued. It seemed that not everyone wanted to have the chance to get wet. Water-hating heathens, he thought sarcastically.

One person wasn't paying attention to him or anyone else in the world, head buried in his phone, and he took advantage of that quickly. They didn't even look up when he practically collapsed into the chair. This one? Not a heathen.

When he flicked his damp hair from face, the uninterested stranger looked up with an equally uninterested stare.

"Uhm . . . Are you here because of that college thing?"

George nodded slowly and finally took them in. They were wearing the same hoodie he was same school too, obviously. Their hair, unlike his, was well kept and so perfectly in place that he wanted to ask just how he got that to happen. Maybe they didn't run out of the house without drying their hair.

"Then I hope you know it's starting in a little under an hour. You're not late."

George groaned angrily, running his hand through his hair in a miserable attempt to make it look decent. It only got droplets of water onto the person sitting next to him.

"How could you tell I was rushing?"

They laughed, almost out of breath by the time they could respond to his absolute misery. He enjoyed the laugh, it sounded nice and all. He just didn't enjoy the reason for it coming up.

"You're saying this like you're the only person who's had to rush out of the house . . . though most of us don't look like we pulled our heads out of the shower a minute ago."

He shoved the stranger a bit, only to get another round of laughter from them and this time George allowed himself to smile at it. If that was the only sound he would be able to hear ever again, would he be disappointed? Not. At. All.

"I'm Paul. Paul McCartney." 

He was holding out his hand—finally, he said his name. The guy looked absolutely androgynous with his overall appearance, maybe even feminine—for a handshake, George presumed, but George looked at it like he was signing away his life. His anxiety, which decided to make its wonderful comeback then, froze him up like water in an ice box. He simply sat there, eyes wide and his heart drumming away, mile a minute ad his body absolutely rooted to its place. 

Then a long overdue drop of water from the still damp side of his head fell onto his neck, startling the anxious George into giving a half decent hand shake. 

"I-I'm Ge-George Harrison," he managed in a small voice, which only made Paul smile back at him and he suddenly wanted to question this guy's sanity. After his overall unkempt and disoriented behavior, he should have been unappealing. No friendship, no further interaction. Was Paul desperate for a friend or was he genuinely just a good person?

"Well, George," Paul said, smile still very much apparent on his face. "We have Orientation to get to." 

George blinked. It felt like only seconds passed as they were talking, were they truly already there?

But Paul was right, he confirmed, as he tore his eyes away from the other's gaze and looked out one the windows. Not too far away was the plush lawn of the front of the school and the old giant buildings of the main part of the campus. He got up confused, but still got up nonetheless and followed Paul off of the bus. 

"Maybe we'll find a towel to fix up that one side of your head," Paul murmured, reaching up ever so slightly to run a hand through George's hair. He's just testing to see how wet it is, he's just testing to see how wet I am—Wait, that didn't sound right at all—

"George? Are you okay? We've stepped off the bus ages ago and you're still as still as a rock."

George snapped out of his thoughts, the hand no longer in his hands but his thoughts swirling about at the same rapid pace. If only he could stop being that weird awkward kid for a few seconds, maybe he wouldn't have a lump in his throat every time Paul so much as breathed in his direction. And they just met too, he felt like he was falling a part in this new guy's hands.

"Yeah, yeah," George responded finally in a small voice. "Just peachy. Don't want to be actually late, so let's get on with it, yeah?" 

A/N: This is relatively shorter than I wanted it to be because of family health issues that have recently come up. Don't worry, things are getting better with that one family member and hopefully, I'll have a better chapter up in 2018. Next chapter will be a blast in the past chapter just like this one. Happy New Year and all those wonderful things.