One again, I'm stuck in my teaching classes. It's not like they're so awful that I'm reduced to doodling on a notebook or going on Instagram. The only problem is that I'm scared of what might happen if I stay too long.

Every news channel in the country continues to say that New England—more horribly Boston—is going to be hit with over a foot of snow pretty soon. And I wanted to be home before anything happened.

"Stop worrying so much, Paul. Your hand's starting to get white," someone near me said.

I instantly looked up, letting go of my desk. My hand's proper color slowly but surely returned as I calmed down and relaxed.

"Thanks, but not now, Buddy. I'm worrying about George. That's okay, right?" I asked, absently looking at the time. Hopefully it shoots forward 40 minutes so I won't be stuck at school. God that would be awful.

"It's good you asked, because it actually isn't," Buddy Holly, my good friend, said back.

"It is! I can't let things go along and then start worrying when things go crazy because I didn't plan!"

"You'll go crazy since you did plan, though. That's what you need to worry about, you control freak you."

"And here I thought you didn't worry about my sanity. Thank you."

"No problem, Paul," Buddy calmly said.

"But there's a blizzard coming! We just can't go with the flow. If we do we'll be flung to London by the winds," I whispered harshly.

He raised an eyebrow, his cheeks growing red from amusement.

"And who told you this?" Buddy asked with his eyebrow still raised.

"This weather app on my phone..."

He then took my phone and redirected my attention to our teacher, Mr. Robinson.

Great, now I'm really going to know the definition of boredom. Why can't we just get to the hands on stuff already?

"Hey, you haven't seen George in a long time. Do you mind coming with me to his school before the blizzard hits? It would mean a lot," I asked in a pleading way.

"Focus on the subject, Paul."

"Does that mean yes or no?"

For a moment he sat there, with a contemplating face. Slowly, a grin started to fight its way on as a replacement.

"Okay, fine. Just for Georgie," he muttered.

I cheered a little, even making up a small dance which Buddy laughed at with no hesitation.

"Mr. McCartney, Mr. Holly. What is going on back there?" Mr. Robinson asked, stopping right in the middle of the lecture. Everyone was looking at us with curious glances, making Buddy stand up with a serious face.

"Well, sir," he drawled in his southern accent. "We were just discussing the weather. And also the reason why Paul here will look like he's seventy in the next week. That's no problem, is it, sir?"

Mr. Robinson gave us a stare for a moment that I couldn't decipher at all. He then turned his attention back to the rest of the class, starting the lecture from where he left off. Buddy sat down and gave me my phone back with a small laugh.

"I lied. I should have said you would look eighty next week! God, you have so many reminders, notes and little schedules in this phone that it's giving me a headache," Buddy complained as he gave my phone one last glance.

"They're for George's birthday. And some other stuff," I muttered as I stuffed my phone into my pocket.

"Like what?" he asked. There was so much enthusiasm in the question that I guess I had to answer.

"Well, Dot hasn't called or texted in a few weeks. So I put it in my memo that I need to call her and see what's up," I replied, waiting for the time to run out for this class.

"Is there something up with you two?"

"No. At least I don't think so. I'm sure I haven't done anything wrong."

"Are you sure it isn't all the memos you have on your phone? That could drive anyone crazy," Buddy joked.

I rolled my eyes, ready to have another small argument about my memos and all. As I opened my mouth though, the bell rang loudly, showing that it was the end of class. I guess I'll have to save that comment for later.

We both stood up quickly, scrambling to up our things to go home or do some errands. Actually, everyone was moving just as quickly if not quicker than Buddy and I. Even Mr. Robinson was rushing around and the first person to leave too.

After waiting for everyone to move out of the way, I waited for Buddy to get to his car before getting into my own and led him to George's school, even though he’d been there dozens of times before. It also wasn't too far off from my own school but I noticed that John's school was far closer. Maybe it was just a college thing.

While waiting on the last red light until George's school, I noticed the snow starting to come down. And it wasn't at all a good thing. A second ago, it wasn't here but now . . . it was just everywhere. It only made me go faster as well as more carefully as I continued to go to the high school.

So the second we got to the building, I forced Buddy to go as quick as he could, paying no attention to his complaining.

"Paul! I can get hurt, you know!" Buddy whined as I dragged him up the stairs.

Okay, maybe I did pay attention, but I was in no mood to deal with a complaining Holly and a moody but quiet Harrison. That in itself was torture just thinking about what may happen. So I would take the moody but quiet Harrison any day over them both.

We burst into the big training room that the school had for all the sports, looking for George. The teenager tended to be all over the place and he moved too quickly for his own good. So getting a good glimpse of him was more than helpful.

He ended up being near the football team but a whole lot closer to the cheerleaders. And he was talking to one in particular.

"George! Do you mind telling us who the pretty girl is?" Buddy shouted to George.

George spun around quickly, like he was about to hit someone horribly. That changed the second he saw who was talking. Now he looked like he was ready to spread world peace.

"Buddy! It's been forever, what happened?" George asked as he came over, his lady friend long forgotten.

"College is what's been happening. None of our teachers think we have lives apparently. You have been warned," Buddy said ominously. He have George a hug and immediately pointed to the cheerleader the baseball player talked to moments before.

"Who was she anyways?" my classmate asked as he continued to point at the cheerleader.

"She's Pattie Boyd," George answered, nearly going back into a dreamy state.

"Oh, the girl you've been gawking at," Buddy mused with a smirk.

Once again something snapped George out of his dreamlike state. He scowled at Buddy and turned towards me with the same look.

"You told him?" George asked with disbelief.

I snickered and said, "I'm sure he would have guessed it by the way you were just looking at her.”

He gave a small grunt, rolling his eyes and yet sneaked a look back at the cheerleaders.

"Well boys, I have to get going. You do remember there's a blizzard coming not too soon," Buddy teased.

I gasped and, without wasting a moment, grabbed George and ran out of the school. We said our goodbyes to Buddy before driving as fast as the law would allow.

George and I got out of the car in a blur, ready to get into our warm apartment and drink some hot apple cider or hot chocolate.

But those thoughts were driven from our minds the second we saw John and Ringo in front of our door.

John seemed to be holding an odd ball of fluff covered in blankets while Ringo was noticeably envying that ball of fluff because it was covered up so well.

"What are you guys doing here?" George asked slowly.

"We're hiding from Aunt Mimi! And because I don't want my little Tim here to be utterly annihilated by her glare, I thought it'd be okay if I brought him here. Plus Brian is okay with it," John said all in one breath while petting the fuzz ball lovingly.

"Tim?" I only managed to ask as we stood in the hallway. We might have possibly been blocking the way for anyone else who might have wanted to go through.

"Yeah!" John exclaimed with enthusiasm. "He's a stray, marmalade colored, Persian cat. I found him on the streets today in the snow all alone so I—"

"John, calm down! It's just a cat!" Ringo cut in and pointed to the door, reminding us all why we were here.

I pulled out the key and opened the door to the apartment. Instantly, Tim quietly hissed, clinging to John as if it were life and death.

"Apparently the cat doesn't like your apartment," Ringo joked, but I didn't say anything. Dot decorated basically this whole apartment and it looked nice. But after not talking to her for so long, it was getting harder to defend her.

"I'm sure Tim'll warm up to this place soon," John mused lightly. "You guys have fish, right?"

George snorted. "Sure, we have fish because we always have cats come in here."

"Oh really? Great! I'll try to find it."

As we waited for John to find the fish that would not be there, a light but firm knock came from the door.

"Uh oh," Ringo murmured, keeping his head down along with trying to make himself look smaller than he was.

I gave him a confused glance while walking to the door and opening it. No robber in their right mind would come in this weather.

In came a middle aged woman with a hard look on her face. She said a quick hello, bustling in and slamming the door with a loud bang.

"Hey, you guys lied!" John yelled from the kitchen. His voice then started to get closer. "I'll have you know Tim was just starting to like this place! But no--"

He stopped talking, along with moving, the second he came back into the living room, laying eyes on the woman that just came in. Without a moment’s hesitation, he grabbed Ringo and hid behind him.

“Why are you hiding behind me?” Ringo yelped as he was acting as a shield for the taller person.

“Because you’re not artistically inclined. Plus I’m holding Tim, so it’s only fair.”

The woman’s face only got stiff as she watched the sight unfold. She slowly walked towards the two and then just as calmly got Ringo from John’s grasp, sitting him next to George. He looked almost childlike as he looked down, holding Tim like a teddy bear.

“Why are you here and not at your apartment?” she asked in a soft voice, but I felt that it might get loud any second from possible anger.

John chose to avoid that question. “How did you know me and Ringo would be here, Mimi?”

She gave a small laugh before looking at Ringo for moment.

“You traitor!” John yelled. “What did you do, write a letter saying where we would be?”

“Actually that is exactly what he did.” A glare was shot to Ringo’s direction by no other than John. “But I want to know why it was needed.”

Finally she got to the point so I left before voices were raised, things got more awkward or Ringo got hurt. George, who sat right in front of me, looked a little amused by the fight that was inevitably going to happen.

I went into my bedroom, closing the door so no one could hear the conversation I was going to have with Dot. I pulled out my phone, starting to dial her number when it started buzzing, her face coming onto the screen. This had to be a good sign.

I answered without hesitation.

“Hey Dot,” I breathe into the phone. I heard a little sniffle in return that ended in a light chuckle.

“Hello Paul, I have something to tell you,” she said quietly.

“I have a question first. Why haven’t you called? We were great before New Year’s and now . . .” I couldn’t bring myself to finish what I was going to say.

“That’s why I called,” she whispered, sniffling once again. This time it was louder.

“Are you okay, Dot? Do you have a cold because I can come over and—”

“Paul, I don’t think we should see each other anymore!” she cried.

Umm . . . what? Did I hear her wrong? Maybe I heard her wrong, she might have a cold anyway.

“Say that again?” I asked. I heard a whimper and I almost felt like whimpering myself.

“I can’t Paul, I just can’t. I don’t know what to say other than that.”

A loud bang! came from the living room, with loud hisses coming not too soon after.

“So you brought that cat in because it looked like marmalade? Are you now telling me that if you saw another stray that looked like strawberries you would let that one in too? It might have rabies John! Rabies!” I heard Aunt Mimi shout.

“What was that?” Dot asked shakily. I shook my head, then remembered that she couldn’t see me. I always did this mistake when I was talking to Dot.

I’m definitely going to miss it now.

“It was nothing . . .” I murmured, thinking about what she said. “But why? Why do we have to stop seeing each other?” I was trying to accept it now, but it was hard.

There was a palpable silence that felt like it stretched forever, but she finally answered.

“You would be so nice, that it practically hurt. It was great. But then you would also be so demanding and strict and it ruined the relationship. I couldn’t stand it anymore Paul, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay Dot, I’m the one that should be sorry. And I am.”

Another silence came in, much worse than the other. What ended it now was worse than before.

“Goodbye Paul.”

My eyes widened, not wanting a goodbye but I knew we couldn’t be here forever.

“Goodbye Dot, I’ll miss you.”

I hung up instant, grasping my phone in anger. I threw it at the wall, causing a big dent to show near the door.

Crying into my pillow with inconsolable sadness, I thought over all the good times we had together. But it always ended horribly because I would quickly remember there wouldn’t be a next time.

A/N: Sorry for that end but it had to happen! This is probably not what you wanted after basically 2 weeks of me doing nada . . . but it's a fairly long chapter so . . .? Also, this is actually set before George's birthday chapter so I'll fix that after a while. Comment and vote and I may have a Ringo Pillow to make you feel better. 8)

A/N II: The picture to the side is what Paul had as his screensaver and as the picture he saw when she called, just not in black and white. Hence why he threw it like that.