"C'mon Stu," John groaned. "You can use your artsy-farsty stuff for the props!"

Stu frowned. "I'm only good at abstract art. All of the props to be is all Greek and Egyptian architecture."

"But—" Paul tried to think of anything to change their minds. "— think about it, if this play's going to turn out fantastic— which, without a doubt will be— people are gonna talk all 'bout it." He nudged John's side, making him jolt.

"Yeah," He blurted. "They wanna know about who did all the backgrounds and yhe stage decor and all that shit."

"They have a point, babe." Astrid murmured. John tried not to cringe physically at the word. "We should go."

"So..." Paul chewed his lower lip. "Are you guys going to go back or—?"

"If Astrid wants to go, so be it." Stu sighed. Then he gave John a glare. "But you better not go flirting with my girlfriend again, Lennon."

John grinned. "Okay, Sutcliffe."

"As if," Paul muttered under his breathe. "He's already busy flirting with Ring— ow! John!" His left hand shot up to his side, and John gave him a pout.

"You started it."

☝︎ ☞ ☟ ☜

"You are coming with us whether you want to or not!"

"No!" Maureen yelped, hanging onto the fire extinguisher for dear life like a cat about to fall from a tree branch. "Pattie help! I'm being attacked by a midget!"

"So," Pattie said, tucking a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "You're from Italy?"

"Y-Yeah I..." George felt heat creep up his neck as his brown eyes met Pattie's blue ones. "I-I moved there when I was a kid."

"Who're you calling midget, Panda face!"

"At least I'm named after a cute bear! You look like a big-nosed pug!"

"Excuse me?!"

"You heard me right! Now let go of my freaking foot!"

"What's it like there, George?"

"O-Oh, um, the f-food's great. Pizzas' are a bit smaller though, uh, u-unlike New York. Their pizzas were h-huge."

Her eyes widened. "You've been to America?"

"O-Once or twice," George ducked his head shyly. "People were okay, nicer than w-what they say."

Pattie smiled at him. "So you've been everywhere, I presume?"

"America isn't exactly everywhere," George laughs softly. Pattie hummed.

"Can you speak Italian?"

"A-A bit." George licked his lips. "Uh, sei molto carina." He blurted out.

"What does that mean?"

"It means—"

"Alright al-fucking-right!" Maureen yelled, making the two teenagers jump. "I'm going with you! But only because I'll be the one who dress you up as Cleopatra!"

Ringo blushed. "I'm not playing Cleopatra!"

"Why don't y-you be Cleopatra, Pattie?"

"Well, as flattering as that sounds, George," She blushed a bit. "Someone said that Cleopatra wasn't really as beautiful as they say. She's more of a woman who knows how to trick people by using her, uh, appeal. So, no thank you." She pressed her lips together. "Though, why Ringo? He's a boy?"

George shrugged. "Dunno the reason myself, really."

☝︎ ☞ ☟ ☜

"You mean to say that... Cleopatra was a—" Cynthia trailed off, nose scrunched up in disgust. "Oh my, I think I don't wanna play her anymore. No thank you."

Pattie nodded. "Same here, girl."

"Well then," Maureen drawled, looking at Ringo with a smug look in her face. "I guess Ritchie over here is the only one left."

Ringo whined. "Why me?"

The dark haired girl scoffed. "I think you still remember seventh grade, Ritch."

The three girls (and one boy) watched him gulp.

Cynthia raised her eyebrows. "What's with seventh grade?"

"Nothing." Ringo stuttered. "A-Absolutely nothing. R-Right Mo?"

Maureen smirked. Then she started singing.

"Tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme, Beauty and the Be— ow! What?"

"Shut up, Mo!"

"Did– Did you play t-the Beast?" George asked innocently, curiousity lacing his voice.

Ringo bit his lip. "Um—"

"Does a yellow dress ring a bell, Ritchie?" Maureen teased. "Get it? Ring a bell? Bell? Belle?" Maureen laughed at her own joke. "Haha, I'm the greatest."

"That was the worst joke I've ever heard, Mo." Cynthia chuckled, and Maureen stuck her tongue out at her.

"Wait," Pattie giggled. "You mean to say that– that you played Belle, like the Disney princess back in seventh grade?"

"I— Yes I did," He stumbled out, making Maureen laugh harder. "Just don't tell anyone–" He suddenly let out an embarrasing squeak when he felt someone's arm sling around his shoulder.

A bubblegum popped. "Too late, Short-Stuff."

Ringo groaned. "Oh god,"

"I'm not God but thanks for the compliment, Rings." John gave him a wink before walking over to Cynthia. "Cyn, the light of my life, mi amore." (George cringed, having to know French as well.)

She gave him a tight-lipped smile. "You're always so good with words."

He smirked. "Not jus' words, love."

"Jesus," Paul said. "Get a room!"

"Speaking of rooms," Ringo glanced at his phone. "Oh frick, we're late!"

☝︎ ☞ ☟ ☜

so

many

characters

*dies*

*escapes grave* don't forget to vote and comment tho

*crawls back bc school is literally killing me*