Ritchie had never seen or even heard George crying before. He was used to the 'punk rock' persona, with some softness that was usually in private with Ritchie and Ritchie alone. So when he entered their shared flat on an early afternoon and heard shaky, wheezing sobs coming from the bathroom his first thought was that someone was crashing in his apartment- someone he didn't know.
Carefully stalking from their darkened kitchen to the bathroom door, leaning against it to better listen to the person who was letting out their emotions in his bathroom. Leaning against the door as to make minimal sound, Ritchie slowly opened the door, fully expecting some random stranger- instead, what he got was George sitting in a fetal position, crying heavily into his tight jeans. He really sounded more like he was wheezing than he was crying, but Ritchie could easily see the tears staining the young mans pants.
He took a few steps towards George, mumbling, "Ey Luv, wha's wrong?" George's head snapped up from where it was planted in his knees, and he quickly reached up to wipe away his tears.
"N-Nuthin'," he stuttered and lied. He tried to swallow but it just broke off into a hiccup. Ritchie closed the short distance between the two and sat down by George, putting his arm around his shoulder in a comforting manner.
Leaning his head to George's, he replied quietly, "Nah, Luv, somethin's off. I want you ta be happy, so tell me wha's botherin' you, yeah?"
This time, George was successful in swallowing before answering, his voice as soft as the finest silk, "'S-'S true. N-Nuthin's wrong, not really. I- I jus'- S-Stuff got ta be too much, 'sall..."
Nodding, Ritchie gently kissed George's cheek. "Well, don' worry, Luv. 'M here."
At his soft spoken words, George smiled. "Y-Yeah... I love ya, y'know, Ritchie."
"I love ya too, Georgie. An' I always will."