The Beatles Imagines ❤️

| John |

"Ye don't understand."
"What is there to understand, John?" Emery said, trying with the best of her ability to not raise her voice.
"I'm emotionally unavailable. Limited. That's it. I don't cry. Never will." John explained to you, putting on an Elvis record at low volume and walking over to her, putting his hands on her shoulders.
"Understand now?" John asked her, a slight smile on his face.
"Yes, but John-"
"Nuh uh uh. You said you understand."
"But John, you-"
"Emery." He told her sternly.
"John, listen! You can't bottle up your emotions. I Trust me, I know what it feels like. It sucks. So please, let your emotions out. I know you're going through a tough time and I know it must be killing you to let your emotions out. Crying feels good, you know. Like a reward at the end of the day." Emery smiled.
"That's sick." John said, protesting.
"It's not! Really. Just try, please?" Emery caressed his cheek with her thumb.
"Then I'll be vulnerable." John whined.
"So?"
"Um, in case you haven't noticed, I'm a boy, Em." John put his hands out.
"I'm aware. Your point?"
"Boys don't cry. Only girls."
"Are you calling girls weak? Crying isn't weak. That's sexist." Emery pointed out.
"Fine. I'll try. How?"
Toxic masculinity at it's finest.
"What do you mean, how, John Winston? Ugh, I wish your name was Jonathon so I could scold you better." Sydney sighed. John grinned.
"Think of something sad. Like, I don't know."
"Like me mum dying?" He asked.
"Aw. Sure." You rubbed his arm.
"Ok." He looked down at his socks, listening to "Can't Help Falling in Love" while he thought of the death of his mom.
Tears brimmed at his eyes, but then he stopped. He looked up at Emery.
"Why didn't you cry?"
"I remember a guy at me mum's funeral telling me to be strong for Mimi. So I didn't cry." He shrugged.
"I could think of something else." He told her.
"Like what?" She asked gently, like her usual voice.
"It's a secret." He said, looking down to avoid eye contact. He thought of all the hatrid he got and how he was called "fat Elvis" and all of that by fans and reporters. He thought of all the terrible things people said about his voice and personality Tears filled his eyes and leaked down his face.
"I'm doing it." He said weakly.
"Oh, John, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pressured you. I feel awful now." She said as she pulled him in for a hug, stroking his hair and rubbing his back.
"No, it's good to let the emotion out. Plus, I get a hug. Which you would think is awkward, because I'm crying, but it's not." John said, choked up.
"Poor love." Emery said, tears almost filling her eyes as she heard John sob.
"If you wanted to know what I'm crying about, I'm crying about the fact that everyone calls me fat and they hate my voice." John whimpered.
"John, you're not fat. Let's be real here. You're so attractive. Also, when I hear your voice on record, it makes me want to cry. It is so gorgeous and amazing, ok?" Emery looked him in the eyes, wiping his tears with his thumbs.
"Ok. I love you." John smiled.
"I love you too. And I'm sorry for pressuring you."
"Don't be. You were right; it was good to let my emotions out." He kissed her, leading her into the bedroom.
"Now, my love, I'm going to show you my way of letting my emotions out." He told her, leading her to the bedroom and closing the door.
"But mine, my darling, is much more fun." He devilishly grinned.

An: why do all my stories end this way 😂😋🫶✌️