⇾ 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 | 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐈

𝙸𝙸𝙸

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 → 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜' 𝚀𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚕

⊹ 𝟿-𝟷𝟽-𝟷𝟿𝟼𝟽 ⊹

It was John's only day off of the two weeks that the band would be filming Magical Mystery Tour, and I had been hoping that he'd spend it all with us. Unfortunately, he spent the morning out somewhere. He didn't exactly fill me in on where...but it definitely wasn't with us. All that I knew was that he made it back at half-past one with Paul driving him. Julian—who had just woken up from a nap and was ecstatic because I'd told him he could go swimming for a while since the weather was warmer than it had been for the past few weeks.

I slipped a swimsuit on as quickly as possible, glancing out into the bedroom multiple times to make sure that Julian was still waiting for me where I had told him to. I allowed myself to study my appearance in the mirror for a few seconds but didn't give myself a rough time to really dwell on how I look. I still had a fair amount of stretch marks around my stomach from when I'd been pregnant with Julian, though they were pretty faded now, and not to mention I still had the remnants of the scar from when I'd had my appendix removed. I tried not to think about the marks when they weren't covered up. It made it much easier to deal with how they made me feel if I ignored them altogether.

I went out into the bedroom, and this time, Julian was gone. I took a heaving sigh and went to look for him. "Julian?" I asked as I moved around the room, then went out into the hallway. "Julian, where are you, love?" I looked down the hallway and saw him standing by the window at the end of the hallway—the one that overlooked the front yard.

"Uncle Paw!" he cried, turning and making a beeline for the stairs. I quickly reached behind the door and took my coverup from the hanger on the handle, throwing it around myself lazily before chasing after him. I caught him before he made it to the front door, and he struggled in my arms to try and get away from me, but I held onto him persistently, hearing talking coming from our front porch.

"Shh, Jules," I said for a moment. "Let's listen, alright?" I said quietly, and he looked a little angry still, but he quietened down long enough for me to listen in on John and Paul's conversation, rude as it may have seemed.

"John, you can't do this," Paul said, and I moved closer to the door because I almost couldn't hear their speaking, and I felt like whatever they were talking about was important.

"Can't do what? Dunno what you're on about. I'm not doin' anything wrong."

"John—," Paul said, his voice sounding oddly threatening.

"Stop talkin' 'bout this shit, Paul. I'm not fuckin' doing anything wrong. I'm not! You're tellin' yourself a lie."

"Fine, I'm bloody done, then," Paul said. "But, if I find out that you're—."