Classic Rock Imagines

Ringo Starr

For greytorodraws23

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     "Rings, ye can't fuckin' tell me that sounds good." Complained John, as he slunk forward and buried his face into the crevasse of his elbow out of annoyance.

     Paul, however, had his elbow on the table, and his chin rested in his palm, his cigarette between his two fingers as he brought it to his lips, inhaled, then exhaled with the roll of his eyes. "You don't have to be so hard on him, John."

    However, Ringo just sat between both of his Bandmates--including George, who was across from him, poking at his plate of food, rather than eating it, which was beginning to concern Paul, due to the side glances he gave--and merely sighed.

      "We'll just retake it, but, not now, I at least want to have a beer or two, it's been a tough day, Johnny, those drumsticks have little tiny splinters on the side that keep jabbing me fingers, it
Hurts." Complained Ringo, as he acted out the motion of the small splinters piercing his skin, all completed with a deep pout.

     Paul merely laughed under his breath, before taking his drag on his cigarette as he then took in a breath to speak.

     "Look," George suddenly spoke, cutting Paul off before he got the chance, which, seemed to anger
McCharmly.

     Ringo leaned back in his chair, slinging his arm over the side as he looked back over his shoulders.

     You had entered the room, and, tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear, your gaze moving across the room. Until, you met a pair of stunning blue eyes, and, you smiled, knowing you found the right table.

     "[Y/N]," Ringo called out with a shy little smile, looking up at you a as you approached where he and the others lads sat.

     "Hello," you laughed quietly and peered up at Paul, then George, who each offered a polite smile.

     John however, barley bothered, eyeing you from the side, before looking away and taking a long drink from his beer.

     Your brow slightly furrowed at his behavior, and, Ringo noticed, before he gently took ahold of your hand with his own. "What're you doing here?" He asked a bit excitedly, his smile wide and gentle.

     Your gaze fell back upon your eager friend--well, you hoped he could be more than friends, and, by the way he acted, he felt the same way--and you smiled once more. "I went to the studio first, but, Brian said you had left, talking about something to do with ''Bird's in silk and enough booze to last them the night"—" you began, repeating what Brian told you, before Paul cut you off.

     "It was John-" he spoke abruptly, before pointing his cigarette at George and Ringo. "You heard nothing, it was him."
He whispered loudly, before anxiously taking another drag on his cigarette.

     With a raised brow, you laughed quietly, opening your mouth to speak again—

     "Oh, shove it up your ass, Pretty Boy, I'd rather be home with Cyn, than with you fools." John hissed with an eye roll.

     Like cats and dogs, Paul and John went right at it.

     Ringo huffed heavily, and brought himself to stand, a bit clumsily being as he almost tripped over the chair leg.

You both laughed, his was shy, and yours was gentle. He hadn't let go of your hand yet, as he then led you across the bar to a secluded table.

He seated himself, and you did as well. Before he slightly panicked, and his gaze met yours, then fell, back and forth. "I should've gotten your chair for you," he pointed out shyly.

Shaking your head, you smiled, he was precious. "I can seat myself, it's quite alright."

He someway relaxed, and smiled shyly once more, before his smile became eager, and he sat up a bit more to look at you better, awaiting the rest of your explanation.

Catching on, you mused silently and continued. "I figured you'd probably be here, so, I stopped by..because, I wanted to talk to you about something, something that really couldn't wait." You spoke in a softer tone of voice.

His eyes had widened a bit at the slight seriousness of the mood, and he nodded as his eyes weren't taken off yours.

"...I found a job, it's lovely really. But, it's in London." You finished quietly.

Then, all went downhill.

Ringo's expression had never been so heartbroken before.

"You're moving?" He asked quietly.

     You're gaze fell, and he lowered his head to hopefully make eye contact with you.

      "[Y/N]?"

     You look back up, a bit guiltily. "I have no other choice," you replied quietly, almost fearfully.

Ringo looked down at the table, and his eyes flittered between different cracks in the deep dark brown wood, his chest raising and falling quickly, almost as if he might cry, yet- his eyes showed nothin of the sort.

He was gathering courage, for what?

"[Y/N], please, just- listen to me, for a moment," he pleaded quietly, lowering his voice as he looked to you with a tender expression.

"You're practically the most amazing woman I've ever met, as cliche as it sounds, it really is true," he whispered affectionately, gently touching your soft palm with his own skilled one. "Letting you slip from my fingers now, after how close we've come..it's something I can't bring myself to do." He proceeded with saddened eyes, yet, a compassionate gleam twinkled in them.

"Of course," he took in a deep breath, "I love you enough, to be able to accept this, and, if you're really going to leave...I want you to understand that I'm happy for you. As much as it pains me to let you go..knowing you're happy, is something far better to me, then making you stay, when great opportunities lay ahead for you, somewhere other than here." He concluded, his eyes falling to the table again, shyly, as he grew a bit bashful after admitting his feelings.

Had you heard him correctly?

Did he say he loved you?

You grew far more emotional than you expected, wetness formed in your eyes, and you smiled sincerely with absolutely happiness. "Richie.." You whispered softly with a gentle laugh between your tears, moving from your chair, he quickly followed your movements, and soon he was embracing you tightly, holding you extremely close.

You hugged his neck and pressed your cheek to his, tightly shutting your eyes, almost in hopes to burn this memory into them.

Of course, you knew you would never forget.

He said he loved you.

And you knew he meant it, because, each letter you received from your new apartment here in London, was signed with plenty of "xoxo"'s and parenthesis with the cursive scribbling of 'I love you'.

And, you knew you loved him too.