~ 24 ~

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Ringo's POV

It had been a hard days night.

George, Paul and I had slacked off, but seemed to be as tired as a man would have at normal, hard work.

We had finished the second last scene for our movie, not taking a break the whole day (Except for lunch.. Y'know, George + food = <3)

"Wow," Paul sighed, flopping down on the couch in my rented apartment. "That was something else.."

"Got that right." George replied, stalking off to my cupboard, looking for food. "Ya know where John and Kaylee went?"

At the mention of her name, Paul straightened up a bit and my eyes narrowed.

"No.." I replied, although the question wasn't directed to anyone in particular. "Why?"

"Oh, no reason." George continued, obviously trying to shrug it off, guilt starting to show about the subject. "Gosh Paul, calm down."

"How can I?" Paul suddenly blurted, his hands pushing him to the edge of the couch. "They could be.. I mean, it's- ugh."

"It's nothing." I replied, crossing my arms as I relaxed my legs on the couch. "It's just a coincidence that they always disappear at the same time."

Paul's expression looked un-convinced, but the sudden slump of his shoulders told us he had given up on whatever idea he had.

*Ring ring ring*

The abrupt ringing from the apartment phone made us all jump.

"Get it, Ringsie." George muttered, his eyes looking back to the cupboard.

Groaning, I moved from my comfortable position and moved for the loud phone, glancing at the tense Paul who hadn't moved from his anxious crouch.

"Hello?" I said into the telephone.

"Yes, hello, is this Paul McCartney?" A female voice replied, rather impatient. "From The Beatles?"

"Uh.. No." I answered, turning around to look at Paul, once again. "This is Ringo."

"Oh," The female muttered. "You'll do. Could you please come down to reception to pick up a few things for Mr. McCartney?"

"Sure-" I started to say, but she had already hung up. "Snobs."

"Who was that?" George asked, when I had put down the receiver, his mouth finally full of some crackers he had found.

"Some lady from reception." I replied, moving towards the front door and opening the front door. "See you two in a few minutes."

Inching out the door, I started heading for the elevator before a pair of running footsteps invaded my hearing.

"Woah!" I exclaimed as the owner of the hurried feet pushed past me. "Watch i- Wait, Kaylee?"

As the person turned around, one of their hands covering their mouth, sobbing, with their eyes red and irritated, my assumption was correct.

"Ringo!" She gasped, both her hands dropping to her sides. "You've- I've- What have I done?"

Kaylee's body flung itself onto me and I gripped her into a tight hug as her arms wrapped themselves around my neck.

"I don't know," I answered, confused and worried. "What have you done?"

"I shouldn't have ever let myself into this," Kaylee continued to cry, her voices muffled into my shoulder. "I'm so stupid."

"Kaylee! Calm down!" I urged, hoping my voice didn't carry through to my apartment. "Please explain!"

I felt her sobs slow down and I rubbed her shaking shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

Finally, Kaylee lifted her swollen eyes to mine and breathed deeply, steadying herself and slowly pushed from me.

"I'm sorry, Ringo." Kaylee whimpered, grabbing one of my hands in her shaky one. "I- I'm leaving. My set is finished and this business with.. T-tell everyone I'll miss them."

"What? Kaylee.." My disbelief making her eyes tear up again. "Explain. Right now."

"I- I love John." She started and before I could interrupt, she continued with more shocking words. "And, and I'm 15."

"You're 15?"

"Yes, Ringo!" Kaylee cried, exasperated. "I'm 15! I told John and he flipped out and now.. Now, I'm going for good."

My mind reeled at this new information, my eyes reflecting her teary blue pair.

"Bye, Ringo."

Before I could grab her arm and pull her back, Kaylee had run off again, probably to pack her things and get out.

All I wanted was to grab Paul's things from reception..

Now I needed to find John..

Love Me DoOnde histórias criam vida. Descubra agora