Yeah, I'm starting another story, got somethin' against it, bitches?

... That's what I thought! Anywho, I came up with this title after watching the movie (500) Days of Summer, which just so happens to be one of my favorite movies. Now, this story isn't actually going to BE like (500) Days of Summer, it's just gonna share a similar name. Onward with the story, now, or I'll talk you all to death!


Disclaimer - Fine, I'll be serious on this one. I do not, nor will I ever, own Richard Starkey (pity, ain't it?), The Beatles (also a pity), or the children's hospital mentioned in here. I only own the girl who's name is not yet mentioned.

Ringo's P.O.V. - Sometime or another in 1962, after being excepted into the Beatles

I chuckled a bit, smiling slightly to meself. I was floating, in the air, like it was some sort of stream. The sky was beautiful, like cotton candy. I reached out me hand, first to the sky, then back to me mouth. Oh, wait, the sky was cotton candy.

I look down to the ground, me bare feet touching the soft dark green grass. Wait, where did me shoes go? Eh, who cares?

"Ritchie... Ritchie..." a voice called to me in the distance. It sounded so familiar. So, I ran to it. I ran and ran and ran till I finally reached the voice. It was a young girl, about 13-14 years old. She had dark brown hair, which was pulled back in a braid, and vibrant gold eyes. She had a rose in her hand, a white one. She handed it to me.

"Hello, Ritchie!" she exclaimed, drawing me into a hug. A bear hug, at that. I hugged her back, inhaling her scent. She smelled like flowers. And vanilla.

"You know, I go by Ringo now," I pointed out. She shrugged, fiddling with the hem of her yellow sun dress.

All of a sudden, she bolted up and grabbed my hand, racing off to who-knows-where. "Where are we going?" She smiled her amazing smile. "You'll see."

I rolled my eyes. She must have seen it, 'cause she frowned. "Patience is a virtue, Ritchie." I smiled. Damn her and her poetic ways.

Finally, she came to a halt, making me run into her, ALSO making me fall on me butt. I rubbed me head, jumping up. "What the hell, Luce?" She chuckled. "Language, Mister Starkey." I rolled me eyes. Then I finally registered where she had taken me.

"Wow..." I whispered. We were in a beautiful... garden. Flowers, everywhere! Acres and acres! I looked at her, mouth still agape. She looked down. "How do you like it?" She said it like she was afraid I'd say I didn't. But how could I?

"Lucy," I said, addressing her by her real name, "This. Is. Amazing." She looked up, her golden eyes lighting up. "Really?" I nodded my head. "Really."

She wandered off to a nearby flower bed. I recognised the flower she was picking up. It was a lunaria, or as she called it, Perennial Honesty. The flower of honesty.

"Ritchie?" she asked. I looked up to her. "Do you remember, when you were little," It hit me, in mid-sentence. Currently, right now, at this moment, I was still 23. And she was still 14. "how I wanted to become a florist?"

I nodded, noticing her sad expression. I walked over to her. She walked back. "Lucy, what's wrong? Yer not acting like yerself..." She smiled sadly, handing me the flowers. She gave me one last sad smile, and walked away. I called to her, but she walked farther and father. And I called louder and louder, to the point where my throat hurt and my eyes were red and puffy.

"Luce... Lucy..."

I bolted up, running me hand through me hair. It was just a dream... Like always...

I looked over to the clock. 4:37 a.m. Great.

Sitting up right, I felt something fall in me lap. Perennial Honesty, or lunaria. The crisp, white flowers Lucy gave me... in me dreams. I tilted me head a bit. How- how is that possible? It was just a dream... She couldn't ACTUALLY be here...


I heaved a sigh. Alright, it's settled. I'm going to see her.

It's done, it's done, it's done, done done done done DONE! WOAH, am I excited to write this story! I mean, NO one has tried this! NO ONE! It makes me feel special...

Anyway (I say that too much, I think...), this (and the last chapter) is going to be the only one written in 1962. The rest are gonna be done when he's 13. Do the math. So, with that said, I must say... REVIEWWWW!

Also, what do you, my fateful readers, think happened to Lucy? I mean, I don't expect you to be specific, just where do you think she is.