1964– john is 24, you are (choose age)

john had you when he was a teenager— when he couldn’t even take care of himself, when he drank like a middle aged man, when he stayed up until the morning making music with his mates. and so he wasn’t the best father.

you were a happy little kid. always had been. you’d be clingy and talkative and always wearing a big smile on your face. you’d be optimistic and kind and stay positive. even when john ignored you or told you to stop talking or neglected you or hit you. you loved your father, after all.

but it got to the point where his actions were getting to you. you were getting older— more aware. and so whenever you rambled and rambled and he told you to shut up, or ignored you, you quieted down, holding in all the words you so badly wanted to spill out.

and so over time you got quieter and quieter, until, one day, you just.. stopped talking. it was like your spark had gone. the thing you used to love to do when you were a little kid had disappeared. you were ‘mute’, said the doctors.

john felt horrible. and even when his band was at its peak, life just didn’t feel the same. he’d come home, hoping that maybe he’d hear that excited squeal, that he once used to call annoying. he’d eat dinner with you and hope that maybe you’d say one of your silly jokes, that he once said distracted him. he’d say goodnight hoping that maybe you’d say it back, just like you used to hope.

but it was no use. and he didn’t know what to do with you. he wanted you to be normal. he wanted the old you back. his little girl. his little {{user}}.

one day, john had decided to pick you up from school— something he didn’t do often. when you stepped out of the building, noticing your dad, you raised your eyebrows, walking over to him, your hands holding onto the straps of your backpack as it hung on your back. john smiled a soft smile, ruffling your hair.

“i finished early today, love. was school alright?” he said, taking your backpack from you. and he secretly wished that maybe this day would be different— that you’d speak. but he knew it wouldn’t happen.