imagines; beatles

✰ gone with the guitar : john

idea from the lovely backontop , thank you:)
for the full experience of this imagine, I HIGHLY recommend listening to 'Symphony No.9 in E Minor Op.95' by Dvořák
I'm serious.
do it.

___

"Written anything new?" You heard Paul ask to who you assumed was John, his song-writing partner.

"Uh-yeah. I've got a bit of something new." You heard John get up and grab his guitar, the strings singing as he strummed them lightly with his thumb.

"It's been way too long,
I need to confess what's been wrong...
And I know this may be hard to hear
But we have nothing left, my dear,"

"All I've got." He finished and shot you a guilty glance from across the room. The song was for you.

For the past two months John and you have fought an awful lot, not seeing eye to eye anymore—but it didn't cross your mind that he lost his love for you—you simply assumed that it was a rough patch. All marriages have them...right?

Tears formed in your eyes and you ran off to your bedroom, crying into the sleeve of your pillow. Half of you hoped that John would walk in and explain the song wasn't about you.

"Y/N?" His voice brightened the darkness, his high tone signaling that there was a possibility of hope. "Paul left...got a call about Dot.." You peeked from the corner of your eye to see his slim, dark shadow haunting the threshold of your bedroom. He took your silence as an answer and walked through, his figure flashing out of sight.

Your heart felt hurt to the point where words could no longer describe your emotions. You felt them all—the anger,devastation, loneliness, horror, shock and most of all, fear. You stationed a life in Liverpool, leaving your family in Hoylake behind, who didn't approve of John, much to your surprise.

a little while later

John came back in the room, however this time you were emotionless, completely broken to the point where you were frozen and felt not a drop of pain. His presence was dark and cold as his seemingly black eyes cast over to you, laying hopelessly on the bed.

You picked up your head and looked at him, analyzing him for what felt like the last. "No..this couldn't be it," you thought to yourself.

"Y/N.." your heart dropped as he mentioned your name. "I'm leaving."

"W-What?" Your voice was stuttering, your throat dry and at a loss for words. "John.."

"I can't, Y/N." He stated, slightly aggressive. He clearly has had enough. He walked out of the bedroom, but you quickly got up and followed after him, your dainty feet slapping against the cold wooden floors, which creaked with age.

"John!" Your jaw hit the floor as you looked at your living room—John had a brown leather bag and suitcase sitting near the front hall. He grabbed his black Maciejowka hat and draped his coat across his back, straightening it out. "What are you doing? Why are you leaving so soon? Why can't we talk?" At this point you were begging, tears pouring from your eyes.

"Because I don't do well with saying goodbye." His words were firm and rehearsed, like he had prepared for this since you met four summers ago in college. He looked you up and down one last time, his gaze almost apologizing to you. At once, he turned his back to you, his large hand wrapped tightly around the golden door knob, twisting it open, his bags in hand.

You ran over to him, gripping your hands around his large bicep, almost dropping to your knees, tugging on his coat. "What will I do? Where will I go when you leave? What does this mean?"

He looked down at you, no sympathy left in his black orbs. His face was straight and stiff, no love left. "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn." His lips didn't even seem to move at all. He turned sharply and left, walking across your large cobblestone steps and to a car waiting by your mailbox. Your body was glued to the frame of the door, a river flowing from your bloodshot eyes.

As the car turned away, you dashed back inside and threw yourself onto the hard, velvet steps of the home, weeping. Your lungs were exhausted, your eyes were strained, and your eyelashes were stuck together by the liquid pain you poured.

It all felt like the end...

__

woah that was awful, I'm so sorry it's so short too.
anyway, I'm thinking of making a beatles instagram account haha.