15.

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16th April, 1963

As soon as George had received the phone call from John, he was eager to get round there as soon as possible. He missed John, he thought of him as an older brother. And he was very sad that he couldn't make it to Cynthia's funeral because of work.

His boss wasn't the most considerate of people, and seeing as though George had already had time off on his birthday week, the man wouldn't allow it.

Also, it was April, aka the month of the grand national. The betting shop the man worked in had been crazily busy with people placing their bets on what horse would win.

The man had just left the shop, a little baby rattle that he'd bought for Julian grasped in his right hand, some orange and pink tulips in the other hand.

He wondered how different John would be. If he had got mad at Paul of all people, then what if George said the wrong thing? What if John also got mad at George? But there was no more time to stress, as John's house was right infront of him.

The gate was left open, the grass on the front lawn being very close to overgrown. Weeds peeled through the stone tiles in the ground as George's feet approached the brown, wooden door.

He waited a few seconds after knocking before he saw a figure get closer through the patterned glass next to the door.

"Hey George." John said, opening the door further for George to walk inside. He had Julian over his shoulder, probably burping him.

"Hey man." George smiled, watching intensely as the older man closed the door. He got his first glimpse of the baby's head. "Hey, little boy." He smiled.

"C'mon, let's sit down." John said, heading to the living room, followed by George.

"I got him this. And I got you some flowers." The younger man smiled, laying the objects on the table infront as they both took their seats on the sofa.

"Thanks. You didn't have to..."

"No I did. It's the least I could do for not bein' able to make it."

"Ah, don't worry about it. I know how busy it is over April down there." John said, bringing Julian away from his shoulder. "Plus, that manager off yours is a right dick."

"You're right there, Lenny."

John smirked at the nickname, a light laugh leaving his lips.

"God I haven't heard Lenny in a while." He smiled. "Anyway, those flowers for me?"

"Of course. As they say, pink to make the boys wink." George smirked back.

"Oi." John hit his arm, playfully. "Anyway. So who's this bird of yours then?" He asked, leaning over to get Julian's dummy from the table.

"She's called Pattie. Was down at the bookies with her dad about a month ago, slipped me her number when he wasn't looking."

"Oh really? Risky move that, George. You've got a rebel on your hands." He joked.

"Nah. She's really sweet, actually." He shrugged. "So anyway, you going to let me hold this little boy or what?"

"I would, but he seems to always cry when he goes with anyone else. Apart from Mimi and Paul, that is."

"Paul?"

"Yeah, I know. Must have a magic touch or somethin'" John shrugged. "I mean, you can try... But if he cries then I'm sorry."

George nodded at that, holding his arms out for John to place Julian in. He was okay at first, but as soon as John's hands unwrapped from around him, he began to cry.

"Oh Julian..." The older man sighed, grabbing the dummy the baby had spat out onto George's lap, then picking the baby up. "Shhh..." John soothed, rocking the baby in his arms and standing up.

George was confused. Why the hell did Julian cry with him but not Paul? He could sort of see how he wouldn't with Mimi, but Paul? Sure, the guy worked with kids, but they were teenagers.

"Did he cry with Ringo?"

"Yeah." John nodded, the baby beginning to quieten down. "That's it, no need to cry. It's only your uncle George." The man took a seat back down on the couch.

George watched the scene play out, not really knowing what to do. Babies cry all the time, so it wasn't unusual.

"I wish he wouldn't cry..." John sighed. "It's like whenever he's not with me he thinks I'm gonna leave him. Which I'll never do."

"At least you know he loves you lots." George smiled.

"Yeah. That's true." He agreed, looking over to the rattle on the table. "That's sweet."

"Yeah, I got it from the shop. Maybe it's more for when he's a bit older but I'm sure he'll like it."

"I'm sure he will." John said, picking up the rattle and studying it.

"Alright, I'll go and put the flowers in some water." George stated, standing up and walking to the kitchen with the vase of dead flowers from the fireplace.

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