The Beatles Oneshot Series: Letter
7 of 20: Letter
Pairing: John/Ringo, John/Yoko
Disclaimer: I do not own the The Beatles. Any events here are purely fictional.
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“That is a lot,” John whistled as he sat down next to him on the table, looking at the pile of fan letters he had received. “How many are there exactly Rings?”
He counted the letters carefully before saying, “around a dozen or so, John.”
It made him feel nice that people enjoyed his drumming though he felt like he wasn’t the best in the world. He picked up one of the letters and John snatched it from his hands. He reached for it back, stretching his arm for the envelope.
“Give it back,” he whined, feeling like a kid again as he struggled to get it back and John used one hand to hold his forehead and push him away while reading the letter outloud mockingly in his other hand.
“Dear Ringo, I’m not sure if you remember me but I watched you play at The Carven last week and it was great. You are the best drummer I’ve ever heard,” he said, grinning the whole time as he said it in a high pitch voice in imitation of a woman’s.
You’re also a real sweetie since you took the time to talk to me and my friends when we were there and the others are silly for thinking that you’re not better than Pete Best. You’re better than Pete and cuter as well! And…and…”
John stopped reading the letter, pretending to making gagging sounds. “This is one of the most generic fan letters I’ve ever heard! And I’ve read Paul’s letters,” he said dramatically, dropping his hands down to look back at him. “And you’re flattered by this stuff?”
“Of course I am,” he said, snatching the letter and holding it against his chest, feeling offended by what John had said. “What’s so wrong about this letter?”
“It’s unimaginative,” John scoffed, “I would be annoyed that someone wouldn’t write me an original, interesting letter. Hell, I bet I can write a better letter than them!”
“Why don’t you do that then?” he said in annoyance, now turning to the pile of letters to get another one and was opening it when Johns stood up from the table suddenly.
“Maybe I will Ringo!”
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“Ringo?” He looks up from the once-white now-yellowed letter in his hands, seeing the aged face of his friend and only living Beatle group member Paul McCartney. “Are you alright? You spaced out on me for a minute.”
He nods, muttering a ‘yeah I’m fine’ under his breath as he scans the letter briefly before putting it down to write a reply to the person. He always does this every Sunday from 12 in the afternoon till dinner time. Ever since that time he replied to the sweet girl who made him a portrait and saw how happy she was with it, he \
“Come on,” Paul said, gesturing to the window where the scene outside was bright and lovely. “Don’t stay cooped up here in the study! The sun is shining. The sky is blue and the birds are chirping. Why not go out with me for a little stroll? After all, you’re going to need it grandpa.”
He rolls his eyes as Paul in amusement, saying, “I’m not that old Paulie. You’re only two years younger than me. Besides, I want to reply to all of these letters. They took the effort to write them to me, the least I can do is write back to them. ”
“Even the ridiculously old ones?” Paul asked, cocking an eyebrow as he gestured to the pile of letters that show obvious signs of age.
“Again, they took the time to write, I should as well. If you want to help, you can pick the next letter for me to write.” He put the letter into the envelope, sealing and stamping it before putting it away. “Come on, choose one!”
“What fun that’ll be.” Never the less, Paul reached for one of the aged letters and took one at random and looked at the addresser. “Holy crap! Rings…this one is from John!”
Ringo snatched the envelope from Paul’s hands, looking t the familiar handwriting of John Lennon. It still hurts to remember John for Ringo.
They were once lovers until Yoko came into the picture and he was suddenly tossed aside like garbage. He never forgave John for that. He missed the tall, witty man but still held a grudge close to his heart for that incident. It was selfish of him to do that, yes, but it still stung whenever he remembered
“Go Paul,” he hissed. “I need to be alone.”
Paul does not object and leaves the room but does look back as he walks away. The moment the door is closed, he tore into the envelope and yanked the page(s) out, his hands shaking so badly that he could barely see the letters written on the paper. He took deep, calming breaths. This is just a letter from John. A long dead John so it shouldn’t matter what’s written here now. Just read it and get over it.
It was dated in March 18, 1969. Two days before his marriage with Yoko.
Dear Ringo, it read, remember the time I was annoying you over a letter from someone when we were younger? How I said it wasn’t creative? And how I said I could write a better one?
Well, here it is.
It’s been a while since we last talked without it becoming a screaming match, eh? The feelings between us are longer friendly or nice but instead bitter and hateful. We no longer exchange smiles or laughs but instead scowls and spats. Whenever we see each other, we get into fights instead of a discussion.
Somehow, you and I bring tension into the room when we’re all in the same room instead of Paul and I. We do nothing but argue and fight for what seems like endless hours.
I can’t really complain about it, can I? The way I treated you before I finally had the balls to crudely dump you like that. Just a quick and vague ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ and all those clichéd words and a retreat with my tail between my legs.
You must have thought I was a hypocrite at that time, right? I always talk about being creative and different but I couldn’t even bother to give a better reason why I was doing that to you. Why I was leaving you like that. Why it took me so long.
That’s why I’m writing this letter, Rings. To give the answers I was too scared to give to you before. I’m only writing this now because it took me a lot of thought to properly write this and needed much encouragement from Yoko (yes, Yoko) to finish this and not give up on it. So, here it goes:
I did it because I was scared.
No matter what I say or act, I’m just a scared idiot who is afraid of change that’ll make my life different in a way I can’t control. You, Ringo, showed me changes and paths that would be out of my control. I couldn’t handle it.
You were, are, amazing, sweet, amazing and full of endless, unknown possibilities. And that scared me. Don’t think I’m trying to put the blame I’m you, don’t. This is just my attempt to explain my bullshit reasoning when I broke up with you.
Yoko was safe. She was different and crazy, yes, but she was acceptable in a way. Our relationship wouldn’t be so wild or strange like what ours would have been. It would be in a way that was still ‘normal’. Ha. John Lennon accepting ‘normality’. That’s rich.
But that wasn’t right of me to do, Rings. What I did to you was, is and will never, unjustifiable. It hurt you and you were left confused and mad since I wouldn’t properly answer your and the answers I did have were dumb. My actions to you, before and after we broke up, were even dumber.
I avoided you like a plague in the ending months of our relationship, making you wonder what you did was wrong (which was nothing) and if you could do something (you couldn’t, I’m telling you that much). I treated you like shit and made you cry and pray to God to change whatever you did to make me hate you (I didn’t hate you Rings, I didn’t). When we broke up, I pretended we were better when we weren’t. I tried to act like nothing happened which obviously upset you. Everything I did was wrong and I pretended it was right. That was honestly dumb for me to do.
If I could turn back time, I would and stop myself from doing that.
Now, looking back, I realize that letting you go was one of the biggest mistakes of my life. If I could give anything to stop myself from doing this and to be with you, all the unknowns and mysteries, I would.
But I can’t do that. Because A) That would be selfish as hell and B) This is for you.
I want to give you some closure, any kind of it. I hope this letter helps in anyway with you. To be honest, I’ll be surprised you’ve read this far because, well, I would think you would throw this out the moment you saw my name. In any case…
Ringo, I love you. I’ll always do and I hope you’ll be happy one day. That you’ll find someone better and who’ll love you through all the odds and obstacles. I’ll be there to support you at every step as well, reminding the person to not do anything stupid and lose you.
If you want, you can reply back to me. Stupid to ask, I know because I must be dead-
He could no longer read the rest because of the tears in his eyes.
“Oh John,” he whispered. “You are dead. You are…”
Without another word, he grabs a piece of paper and writes on it to reply to John’s letter.
Dear John,
Thank you.
Ringo.
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Originally written before ‘Fairy Tale’, I postponed this to write…Fairy Tale AKA ‘WTF?’.
Got the idea from all the ‘Dear -insert character’s name-’ stories being written lately and wanted to try one. But since my muses are complete bitches and assholes, they forced me to postpone until I found an acceptable twist to it.
So I proposed this: What if the letter is written…but the person intended for it never gets it until it is somehow too late.
They approved and I got this. Yeah!
And I am sorry if the ‘letter’ from John sucks. Really. D:
