Stop Crying Your Heart Out - McLennon AU

22.

24th April, 1963

It was around 3:30 am when John woke up from that nightmare. No matter how desperately he tried to go back to sleep, he just couldn't.

What if Cynthia actually did hate John? What if she was really ashamed of him, and hurt?

And as for George and Ringo... They looked so disgusted, angry. He didn't want them to know what he'd done to Paul. The fact that he'd kissed his best friend...

Why did he want to kiss Paul so badly at that point?

But to be honest, another thing was that Paul had actually wanted it. And he'd kissed back.

'Shut up and fucking kiss me' He recalled his friend saying, with an eager look in his eyes.

They both wanted it at that point, but why?

Maybe it was John's grief? Maybe he just missed having no affection showed to him, and just needed somebody... Anybody.

'You barely showed me any affection' Cynthia spat at him.

"That wasn't real, that was just a dream, John."

As he closed his eyes once more, the image of Cynthia lay on the hospital bed, looking lifeless was the first thing he saw.

"Y-You never call'd m' that." She made out.

"What? What did I never call you?" He asked, the concern in his voice clear.

"Ba...Baby..."

It was true, Cynthia had said that. Now his mind was haunting him with those same words.

"I-I'm sorry, Cynthia..." He whispered to the room, as if she was there and listening. "I don't know why I was such a bad husband."

She can't hear you, John

Cries came from the cot next to him, causing John to jump, immediately bouncing off his bed and onto his feet. He took Julian out of the cot and began to rock him.

"Please don't cry... I don't want you breakin' down too..." John did everything he could to not sob as he looked down at the baby.

The guilt he felt when looking down at the baby was much worse that morning than it had been the night before.

"I'm sorry, Julian... I'm so sorry..." The tears finally began to spill.

There was nobody he could talk to. He couldn't tell George or Ringo what he'd done because they'd hate him. They would be disgusted, and even worse, they might be angry with Paul too.

John felt like there was nobody who would understand how he felt. No decent person would think about trying to move on so soon after their partner died.

Was he even moving on? Because at that moment he remembered it feeling like he'd needed it for years.

Oh my God.

He thought, as the tears ran faster.

John needed to speak to someone. Who would understand? Who did he know and trust who had lost a loved one?

"A-Astrid..."

————————————————————

Astrid Kerchherr worked down at the local newspaper in the main city. She was engaged to John's best friend Stuart, who died, and so if anybody knew how John felt, it would be her.

So here John was, waiting at the bus stop at 7:30 am, the wind beginning to pick up. He leant down into Julian's pram, making sure he was tucked in safely and warm underneath his blanket, so the wind didn't make him cold.

When John looked back up, he saw the bus at the stop before, making him sigh in relief at the thought of getting out of the wind.

"O-One ticket to the city, please." John asked the bus driver, not looking up.

"Okay, that's... 10 pence please." He game the man the money and grabbed his ticket, before taking a seat.

He hated going into the city, he'd never been a fan of his busy it could get. People never stopped, and they always looked like they were in a rush to get somewhere.

The idea of being inside that crowd of people was anything but appealing to John, but if it meant that he would see Astrid, and maybe even fix his conscience, then he was willing to do it.

————————————————————

"Excuse me?" John asked the receptionist at the desk.

People ran around him, carrying newspapers. The sound of typewriters wasn't exactly quiet either.

"Yes dear?" She smiled.

"Do you know what floor Miss Astrid Kershherr is on?"

"Ah, yes. She signed in on this floor just a few minutes ago. Her shift doesn't start for another hour-"

"John?" He turned his head at a voice from behind him, noticing a confused looking Astrid, holding a bunch of newspapers.

John quickly turned back round to the desk. "Thank you." He nodded at the woman, who smiled back.

He pushed the pram over to Astrid, who was still standing in shock.

"What are you doing here?"

"I- To be honest... I'm not actually sure." She laughed at that.

"I haven't seen you in like a year, John..."

"I know, been a while."

"I heard about Cynthia..." She spoke, her gaze softening. "She was a great woman."

"She was." He agreed, looking away. The man could feel the guilt coming back. "I-Infact, that's what I wanted to uh... To talk about."

"Oh... Oh right."

"Do you have time?" John asked, running a hand through his hair.

"Yes, of course. My office is just this way..."