Stop Crying Your Heart Out - McLennon AU

9.

15th April, 1963

It was a week since Cynthia had died, and John really wasn't thinking of leaving the house that day. But the last time he'd gone outside was when he'd had that argument with Paul, and he knew he needed some fresh air.

Not only that, Julian needed some fresh air too, and Julian always came first.

He pushed the pram through the gate of Saint Peter's Church, walking through the gravestone to find Cynthia's grave. Flowers were grasped in one of John's hands.

His hands felt like they were shaking when he got closer to her grave, but he had to keep it together. The phase of crying all the time had gone, it was now just a pit of sadness and an unfamiliar feeling in his stomach.

He stood in front of it, placing the flowers on top and taking Julian out of his pram, bending down infront of the grave.

"Hey Cyn... Thought we'd come and visit you." He spoke to the headstone. "A week old, aren't you Jules?"

And he said nothing else. He didn't think there was much to say... John hadn't done anything that productive in the last week. Other than tell his best friend to fuck off.

"I'm a dick..." He sighed to himself, looking down to his feet.

He stayed like that for a few seconds, nealt looking down with the baby making small noises in his arms. Until he heard a pair of boots scraping the concrete from behind, getting closer.

"Lennon." The voice spoke. John didn't turn, immediately knowing who's voice it was.

"I'm a mess."

"Yeah, you are." Ringo replied, plainly, crouching next to the man. "Can I have a look at him?" He asked, pointing to the baby.

John nodded, turning round a bit.

"He's a week old today." John stated, still looking down to the baby.

"I know. That's why I knew you'd be here." Ringo replied, simply. Still staring at the baby. "He's gorgeous. Got your mouth, he has." The man pointed out.

"You think?"

"Oh Christ, yeah."

It went silent for a while, John beginning to study the boys face more than he had done previously. Did Julian really have his mouth? Or was Ringo just being polite?

Then the question came.

"You here to shout at me then?" John sighed, turning to look straight ahead, face like a little school boy who was about to get a telling off.

"No."

"Really?" That caught John off guard, causing him to turn his head round to meet the other man's stare. "Thought Paul or George would have told you what had happened."

"Oh, they have." He shrugged. "But I don't want to shout at you. I just want to make sure you're alright."

John nodded.

Ringo's presence was always comforting to John's, he just knew what to say. Their connection was a weird one, but John liked it. Sometimes they'd just sit somewhere, or hand out somewhere, and both of the boys would remain silent. But it wouldn't be awkward, not one bit. It was relaxing.

That was happening right at that moment, until Ringo decided it was enough.

"C'mon. Let's get you both back home." The slightly older man spoke, standing slowly to his feet. "Christ, been knelt for too long..."

John followed his actions, knowing that he'd go insane if he stayed crouched any longer. He stared at the flowers once more before placing the baby back in the pram, and leading the way out of the graveyard.

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"Mind getting the door for us, Rich?" John asked the man, pulling out the key from his coat pocket.

"Give it 'ere, lad." John did so, walking in behind Ringo.

The walk home was refreshing. It was mostly silent, but that's just how John wanted it... How he liked it.

"Something on the floor for you, Lenny." Ringo said, closing the door behind the younger man and throwing the keys into the bowl.

"Just bring it in for us, would you?" John asked, taking Julian out of the pram and taking him in the kitchen on his shoulder. "Just gotta warm Jules some milk up."

Ringo did as told, following behind John with the letter in his hand.

"It's a letter..." He shrugged, placing it on the table.

"I'll have a read in a minute..." John said, opening the cupboard where Julian's bottle was kept. "Do you think you could hold him a minute?"

"Sure..." Ringo replied.

But when John went to pass over Julian, the baby was having none of it. He began to cry, his eyes looking straight at his daddy.

"Oh baby." Guilt washed over John. "Shhhh, don't cry."

He must be really hungry, that's all.

"I'll make the bottle for you." Ringo stated, as John shushed the baby, not looking up from him.

"Cheers." The baby quietened down a few short seconds later.

After a few minutes of John trying explain how to make a bottle to his friend, it was finally done. John picked up the letter, taking it in the living room with them.

They sat down, John lying the baby in his arms, his left hand holding the bottle while his other hand gave the letter to Ringo.

"Could you just open it and give it us?" He asked, referring to his full hands.

"Yeah."

The older man took out the letter, passing it to John. And John frowned when he saw what was on it.