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HI EVERYONE YES THIS UPDATE TOOK ME THREE DAYS BUT IT HAS 1K WORDS SO YAY !!!

ALSO I'm going to start a comment quota every chapter,,, since it motivates me more :)))

10 comments and you guys get an update (for freaking sure) on Friday !!!! Along with the Texting update as well :D

Hope you guys enjoy this chapter !!! It's a bit weak but all first chapters are like that lol

All the love,

- grace

✿✼:*゚:.。..。.:*・゚゚・*

"Wake up!" Paul yelled, shaking the groggy, blue-eyes boy awake. Or was trying to, anyways. "Ringo you git— wake up!"

"What time is it?" Ringo mumbled sleepily, pulling his pillow closer despite Paul practically ripping his sheets off.

"It's ten-fucking-thirty!"

"Fuck!" He shot up— swinging his legs off so fast he nearly hit Paul. He made a beeline to the kitchen, and the doe-eyed boy heard the clanging of bowls and ceramics. "Why didn't you wake me up earlier?!"

"I was trying to!"

Ringo's hands scrambled through the cupboards, trying to find his cereal in the midst of Paul's healthy snacks. He muttered an "aha!" under his breathe, snatching the box of Frosties (a/n not sponsored I swear) and he flung the refrigerator door open.

"My boss is going to fucking kill me," He exasperated, shoving the cornflakes in his mouth.

"Yup," Paul casually replied as he took a sip of his tea. "I mean this is like, the fifth time this month. He's going to do more than murder you."

Ringo threw him a look. "Not helping Paul!" He grabbed a towel and made his way to the bathroom.

Paul rolled his eyes. "One... Two.... Three—"

A shriek came from the shower.

Paul snickered. "I forgot to tell you— I used all the hot water!"

✿✼:*゚:.。..。.:*・゚゚・*

"This is like, the sixth time you came in late, Ritchie." Maureen commented. "I hear Mr. Harrison's totally  pissed."

Ringo didn't even bother correcting her (which, by the way, this was the fifth not the sixth) because he was currently shaking with fear. Fucking hell, he was lucky so far, since Mr. Harrison was horribly strict with "slackers". And Ringo was surprised that his junk wasn't stuffed in a box with a pink slip as he arrived at his cubicle.

"Well, well, if it isn't the weekly Latecomer," His co-worker (and everyone's favorite Dickhead) John quipped, a smirk playing his lips. "The boss wants to speak with you at quitting time."

"If I ever get fired," Ringo sighed. "Just remember that you're the person I hate the least in this office."

John placed his hands on his chest. "That was really touching, Starr."

Ringo fought the urge to roll his eyes and sat down on his squeaky, swirl chair and chewed on his lip. As he always did whenever he was facing times of trouble. He needed this job— with his turn being the one to pay the rent— and he didn't know what he would do if his boss truly was going to fire him.

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