And He Loves You: Beatles One shots and imagines

Unconditionally?~~Lennon

   It ached, it aches, your heart hurt. It burned. Tears stained the paper as you wrote on it, "Life is so conditional, our love is not. I can promise you my unconditional love. When your feeling small, and beaten down, if I ever can't be around. I still promise you, my unconditional love. Life is tough, and love is hard. The world is cruel, getting a friend is a wild card. But you, my love, i still promise you, yes i promise you my unconditonal love.  I love you John, unconditonally,"

 You sobbed softly, sealing it in an envelope, writing the adress of where he should be now. You opend your umbrella, and slipped on black leather shoes, making your way to the post box.  Your stuffy nose pink from crying, tears still swelling in your eyes, falling freely as they wished. 

   You gently pressed your lips to the envelope and sobbed softly, whispering to it, "Make your way to my love, like I cannot, my little letter,"  That was the last thing you said before gently slipping it into the post box and turning to slosh home. 

  Morning came, the postman took the letter out of the box, and put it into his mail sack, it took his route with him, then it went to the post facility, getting closer to it's destination. It went from the facility, to a plane, to another facility, to finally its last postman. He carried it to a hotel, where it was given to a staffer, where it was given to a manager.

  John burst into his room tiredly, he hated the sound of screaming, he hated reporters and endless questioning on his personal effects. He hated music, and America, he hated himself. Tears were on the verge of being cried as he sat on his hotel bed, when there was a tap on the door, "John, it's Brian, there's a letter from your bird,"

  John immediatly shot up, flinging the door open, grabbing the small paper parcel greedily from his manager's hands. Brian himself, looked bewlidered but didn't particularly care to question the absoloute lack of manners in t]the lad's movements as he shut the door; just as abruptley as it had been opened.

  He sat back on the bed, smiling down at the letter, "God baby, I miss ye," he brought the parcel to his lips, kissing it gently; before tearing it open on the top and pulling out the paper that still read on tearstained paper, "Life is so conditional, our love is not. I can promise you my unconditional love. When your feeling small, and beaten down, if I ever can't be around. I still promise you, my unconditional love. Life is tough, and love is hard. The world is cruel, getting a friend is a wild card. But you, my love, i still promise you, yes i promise you my unconditonal love. I love you John, unconditonally,"

 He sobbed softly, folding the paper between his fingers. Getting his own tears on it as well, he reached for the phone dialing a number, pressing it to his ear as it rung, the other end picked up, "Unconditionally?" he sobbed.