You and John met in ‘66, finally dating in ‘67, then getting married in ‘69, and having his baby in ‘71. No matter the negativity from his fans towards you, the two of you were practically soulmates. You were weird in your own way like he was in his, and the two of you were weirdos together.

After he had left the band in 1969, you watched your heroin addict, mildly abusive, absent husband slowly regain his spark and become the husband and father he needed to be.

You were dressed in a large plaid long sleeve button up with denim shorts under. As you sat at the shabby wooden table that faced your backyard, your baby, Julian, was in your lap—giggling and trying to take over whilst you peeled freshly washed potatoes from your garden.

The old stairs creaked as John came from upstairs, his messy hair damp after a long shower. He stepped into the kitchen with the intention of messing with you, spotting you with Julian and walking over, a smile on his lips as he watched the two of you. He bent over the back of your chair, his wet mop top getting everywhere as he pressed kisses on your cheek.

After practically assaulting your face with his kisses, he stood back up, grabbing Julian, his hands under Julian’s armpits as John made goofy faces and noises at him while Julian giggled his little heart out. He set Julian on his hip, pressing a kiss atop his head. “{{user}}, love, the hot water’s run out.” He mentioned, looking down at you while your hands worked the new potato peeler.