While My Guitar Gently Weeps By Beatles Novels & Stories

My cheeks warm, because it’s true, and I hate that it’s true, and I love that it’s true all at once. I glance back down at the notebook. “I didn’t mean to,” I confess. “It just… happened.” Serena’s voice is soft. “That’s usually the best kind.” I adjust my grip on the guitar. “Okay. Next is Home in Your Hands.” I play it. It’s tender. Domestic. The kind of love song that doesn’t scream—it just breathes. You hold the door like it’s a vow, like I’m something you won’t let fall,

His voice was calm yet filled with so much affection, and with every lyric, I felt my heart melting more and more. As Dyrus kept singing, I slowly placed Snowbelle back into the crystal enclosure. My heart was pounding as I turned toward him. The band played softly in the background, a violin weaved through the melody, a pianist followed tenderly, and the drummer added the faintest rhythm. Darius sat with his guitar, strumming every note so perfectly. Then, before the music set was complete, he handed the guitar to another man in a tuxedo who continued playing the same gentle tune. Darius rose from his stool and began walking toward me. My breath hitched with every step he took.

Paul's guitar started to strum the Opening of the ‘Wake me up when September ends by the Greenday, he started to pluck each key and was deeply focused enough on the beat of the music, the guitar sound then vibrated perfectly inside the studio room. Serina looked at Paul's performance and smiled, she was surprised as to how Paul perfectly did it on the first try, like he already did practice it many times. But Serina didn't know that Paul did with the practice with her until the end of September before he time-traveled back through time.

From the speakers came the intense sounds of electric guitars playing the prelude to the introduction to the massacre. When equally strong drums joined the fun, I smiled, recognizing the song. Easton chose it perfectly, or maybe it was the one the station was playing, but "Sabotage" by the ever-reliable Beastie Boys was my backing track, which I started to dance to, armed with a baseball bat.

The rhythmic beeping of the machines blended with the gentle rustle of the flowers as Larry carefully arranged them in a vase by Sophia's bedside. He took a seat next to her, and without uttering a word, he picked up his guitar. The room filled with the melodic strumming as Larry began playing Sophia's favorite songs. The notes, rich and soulful, resonated with the love he felt for her. Sophia's eyes sparkled with appreciation, and a fleeting smile danced on her lips.

Her eyes immediately filled with tears. “Oh, sweetheart,” she whispered. “You are glowing.” I smiled nervously, holding her hand. “I can’t believe this is happening.” She gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “Believe it. You have both earned this happiness.” When the music started outside, my heart skipped. Everything slowed. The sound of soft guitar chords floated in the air, the same song Jake used to hum when we were teenagers. I could almost hear his voice singing it under his breath, just like he used to.

Tonight, tonight, tonight, you are my music. Move my heart like a metronome Tonight, tonight, tonight, I want to lose it. I'll be the only song you'll ever know. I treat you like an instrument. Let me be your Beethoven. Play you like an instrument. Let me be your Beethoven. The babies quieted down, listening to their mother sing to them. It seemed to calm them down a bit, but once he stopped, they started crying again, but luckily Sebestian entered the room with four warm bottles and a smile on his face.

I'm not here to fuck around. I'm here to fuck it up. We're in the middle of one of our ballbusters, "Thought You'd Start to Care", which has one of our jam sections and, boy, are we flying tonight. My fingers are flying across the neck of my guitar and I'm sweating like hell, hair dripping, t-shirt sticking to my back. I lift my eyes to check on Holden. He's on his feet at the keyboard, totally lost in the sauce. I smile to myself.

So I'll just let the guitar cry, baby 'Cause there's no good in goodbye, babe. Can't let you see them coming down my eyes. So I'll just let the guitar cry baby.

Arrick smiles down at his guitar as though reliving the same memory, looking my way for a moment. “I almost kissed you that night. I remember looking at you after this song and thinking how much I wanted to kiss you. Moving in close without even thinking about it and telling myself I was drunk and being an idiot.” He frowns as he strums another couple of notes, eyes still on me and looking at me like he very much wants to kiss me now. All his subtle little tells showing and eyes all hazy. “You never told me that before.” I tilt my head to one side and regard him as he starts to play softly on his guitar, moving into that familiar pose, hunched over and tapping his foot in time as he strums t