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AMBITION “Coup De Foudre” [ 4.13 ]♮Part 1

RECAP

Over a shot of Jack and Eric embracing after they said “I do,” officially husbands:

Riley, voiceover: Previously, on AMBITION…

Well, we’ve arrived yet again at the end of another season. To deeply and effectively recap the entire season would take a lot of words (like, almost one million of them at this point, in case you missed the word count this season has crawled up to -- and if you didn’t and still kept reading along without hesitation, you are just as insane as we are and we are having the best time), but we’ll try to hit all the essential points while keeping it (mostly) short and (sort of) sweet.

The ensemble began this season setting off on their post-Adams adventures, whether that meant college, or gap years, or jumping straight into the belly of the industry beast. Through highs and lows, mistakes and magic, and every possible emotion one experiences in the growing pains of the end of adolescence, we’ve ended up here -- on the brink of ever more change and the horizon of the rest of their lives.

For Riley, this means determining whether or not to seriously commit to leaving NYU after an arguably successful, but perhaps not personally fulfilling, freshman year. She’s discovered many other interests beyond musical theater, and maintains devoted interest in Lucas, who she wants to follow to California when he leaves New York to attend UC Davis.

Riley: It was my decision to leave. Lucas had no influence over it. It was my call. And I don’t regret the choice I made. So you can save your concern. I’m fine.

Which yes, to confirm, Lucas is finally going to Davis. After his father’s illness derailed his plans last year, biding his time and holding out hope has paid off. With Kenneth in the ground and the past -- theoretically -- behind him, Lucas now has nothing standing in the way of pursuing his own dreams that took so long to materialize. And even better, he might just have his favorite person there with him to continue the journey… if he can convince himself that’s a good idea.

They’re not the only two trying to determine where they’re going to spend the next few years. After a grueling two semesters at Turner Academy, vying for a transfer spot against strong competition like Gia Valdez and rival-turned-paramour-turned-not-sure-what-now Vanessa Johnson, Zay has found himself torn between dual opportunities -- potential admission to the dance program, or a role in a touring company starting at the end of the summer. He hasn’t always been enamored with the academic aspects of the Academy, and the tour might be much more his speed… but it also means leaving New York, for who knows how long, to travel the country.

Leaving New York when Charlie has finally returned, seemingly for good, and the two of them have finally found their way back to each other.

Charlie: Obviously, I don’t want you to be hundreds or thousands of miles away. I don’t think either of us wants that. But we’ve worked with less ideal circumstances before. We’ve already torn ourselves up once or twice. Zay: Yeah, and I’d really, really like to not do it again. I want you. I want the relationship, the commitment, all of it. I want that with you. That’s what I don’t want to risk.

With words of devotion like that, it’s hard to fathom walking away… especially since Charlie is almost guaranteed to be in the city for college. He’s yet to reveal where he’s going to school, but that appears to be the plan, and he has finally seemed to land on a path forward that feels personally true to his heart and exciting for his soul. Being out of the closet and more comfortably himself certainly helps that effort, although not without lasting challenges -- recent ones he hasn’t had much of a chance to actually confront or unpack, if he intends to at all.

Charlie, desperate: Mom, this isn’t -- I’m still me! I’m still your son -- Eleanor: Don’t say that to me! Stop lying!

In the realm of rotating scholarly pursuits, Nigel is also weighing a leap of his own, strongly considering an attempt to transfer to the UK to continue his acting degree. Only there are obstacles in his way, and there’s no guarantee it’ll work out… and he totally flubbed the telling-his-girlfriend part of the equation, leaving him and Jade in limbo as to what their future together -- and apart -- might hold.

Even so, they’re in better shape than Farkle and Isa, who have endured a whirlwind of romantic upheaval in the last few weeks. They went from not being sure how to handle the distance and drifting slowly apart, to clawing their way back to stable ground just as Farkle got tangled up with a toxic boyfriend and Isa let go of their girlfriend and accepted their descent into pining madness. Then there was the tension, of many varieties, ultimately culminating in an old love letter falling out of a borrowed novel and turning everything upside down.

Isa: Because I needed to know! I needed to know how you felt. If you had told me, if I had seen -- I mean, if I had fucking known -- Farkle: Then what? What would you have done, Isa?

From there followed fast and fierce intimacy, physical and emotional, often spurred by the heat of the moment and complicated feelings of the day. But when the moment came to articulate it properly, when it mattered, Isa fumbled -- and Farkle left once again feeling like the second-string nobody.

Farkle: I just need you to tell me, Isa. Please. [ voice cracking ] Please… look at me, and tell me what you did over the phone. Tell me that I’m not losing my mind. That this is worth something. [ with weight ] That it’s real. Isa: I can’t.

So prospects aren’t looking great for Isa and Farkle; nor Isa and Maya, for that matter. That’s far from Maya’s only battle, though. After what seemed like a meteoric and blessed rise within the ranks of label Global Beat -- in spite of Josh Matthews’ disdain and later complex feelings about her presence in the domain he’s been slogging through for years -- all of that came crashing down when her producer Justin Miller took advantage of her. Thankfully, she escaped the worst possibilities, but the emotional scars are still bleeding and the wounds to her budding career may be even deeper. She and Josh have been gifted one last shot to potentially keep themselves afloat, to hold on and push forward into a new era… but all that depends on whether Maya even wants to try.

Yindra is facing a similar dilemma in Hollywood, waiting to hear back on whether she has been offered a position in the new girl group being formed by rival record label, Jupiter Records. At the end of last episode, she had just received word, though the verdict remained elusive… and regardless of what they say, it’s unclear whether Yindra actually wants this job or not. It’s a foot in the door, certainly, but the process to get it has been full of demeaning experiences and uncomfortable compromises and potentially crazy coworkers in the making.

So many plates are spinning, about to balance or crash to pieces, as the ensemble marches into the finale episode. By the end, much will be determined, for better or for worse…

Oh, and yeah, Jack and Eric got married. Just in case you missed it.

Rae: Well, by the power vested in me, I am so, so happy to pronounce you husband and husband. Please, gentlemen, kiss your man.

So even in the darkest times, we just keep looking for the light. Hopefully our cast can do the same… as the curtain rises on our final installment of Season 4…

End of recap.

It’s the season finale of our penultimate season, so you know we must -- and will -- start things off with a bang. This time, as we’re looking towards the horizon of what’s next, we’re also giving a small nod to how far we’ve come. As the orchestra brightly swells, launching us into the episode --

EXT. PARIS - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “One Day More (Season 4 Edition)” as performed by Les Misérables Original London Cast Recording || Performed by AMBITION Ensemble

The famous Les Mis track brings us in, though it sounds much more in the style of the triumphant, brilliant opening notes of “At the End of the Day.” Almost like the toll of wedding bells as they rope us back into the world of AMBITION. We swoop down from the skyline of Paris and the camera races through the streets, taking in the beautiful scenery once again… before we ease to stop outside a familiar hotel.

As the camera pans up, up, up the side of the building, and the music builds to a crescendo, instead of diving into the deep end of “At the End of the Day,” it blends seamlessly into the opening notes of “One Day More.”

It’s a number we’ve had on AMBITION before. But four years have passed since then, and things are different. The times, they really are a-changin’...

[ Lyrics specific to characters -- follow along here! ]

And this is made immediately apparent by the fact that JOSH MATTHEWS, who didn’t occupy our story world as an actual entity until this season, takes the opening lines. He approaches the hotel window we’ve stopped outside of, the camera moving in through the glass as he starts to sing.

INT. PARIS HOTEL - JOSH’S ROOM - DAY

He sings through the first handful of lines, before the camera flips --

INT. PARIS HOTEL - F&M ROOM - BATHROOM - DAY

And MAYA HART picks up the latter half of their verse, singing about the same situation. She’s surrounded by steam, wrapped in a towel and at her most bare -- no make-up, no glamor to hide behind -- and giving herself a difficult truth as she looks into the foggy mirror.

These suits who seem to hang us dry Surely won’t give us a second try One day more…

Whatever she decides to do this week -- if she decides to do it -- might just be her last chance.

EXT. PARIS HOTEL - ROSE GARDEN - DAY

CHARLIE GARDNER takes the next line, already up and wandering by himself through the hotel garden in the misty morning air. As he continues to sing, the screen splits, blending ZAY BABINEAUX into the image beside him as he sings the same shared sentiments from their hotel room.

Tomorrow you’ll be worlds away And yet, with you, my world has started…

INT. PARIS HOTEL - F&M ROOM - DAY

In sharp contrast, FARKLE MINKUS is not in such a romantic mood. He takes Eponine’s desolate musings as he frantically packs his suitcase, stuffing it haphazardly. Although everyone is flying home later that evening, he isn’t waiting around. By the time he slams his suitcase shut and zips it with a frustrated flourish, he seems ready to basically flee out the door.

What a life I might’ve known But they never saw me there!

INT. PARIS HOTEL - VARIOUS - DAY

The song continues to unfold amongst the ensemble, each character asking relevant questions that they’ve been hovering on all season. Does RILEY MATTHEWS follow LUCAS JAMES KINSLEY, or let him fly free without her? Does YINDRA AMINO follow through with the girl group, if that’s what that fateful email at the end of last episode invited her to do? Does NIGEL CHEY stay, stick it out at NYU, or dare to forge a new path?

At least two people seem to have things figured out. JACK HUNTER and ERIC MATTHEWS meet each other at the top of the lobby stairs, Jack taking Eric’s hand after he asks him a simple question.

Will you take your place with me?

Yes. The answer is always yes. But for everyone else, the decisions are tougher, and the clock is running down on their chance to make those calls. The time is now, the day is here…

Even JADE BEAMON gets her own moment. She throws open the window to her hotel room, shouting -- not quite singing, but we’ll give it to her -- the titular phrase out into the cool morning air.

INT. PARIS HOTEL - LOBBY - DAY

Jack and Eric join RAE M.G. in the lobby, who greets them enthusiastically. She leads them towards the doors as she takes her verse, definitely carrying the most changed lyrics of the number to suit the needs of AMBITION -- and summing up the thesis of the episode pretty succinctly.

One day more to revolution Do you hear that drawing near? It’s the future, loud and clear, boys Come embrace the next frontier!

If she insists. She throws the doors open, inviting Jack and Eric to step out first. They do so, the three of them heading off for a brisk morning stroll.

INT. PARIS HOTEL - BALLROOM - DAY

MORGAN MATTHEWS and CORY MATTHEWS do the favor of taking the more comedic bit, taking on the Thérnadier lines as they scavenge the venue from the wedding last night for surprise prizes. There were a lot of drunk people, and they haven’t finished cleaning up yet -- who knows what treasures they might find that people dropped! They were sloppy, that’s on them!

Light-hearted as it is, even so, there’s a bit of foreboding to their lyrics that can’t be shaken off. If we’re talking about what the future might have in store…

Most of them are goners So they won't miss much!

INT. PARIS HOTEL - VARIOUS - DAY

The ensemble makes their way out into the hallways, up and down the hotel -- some on a mad dash to the exit, like Farkle; others heading upstairs towards the rooftop -- while singing the harmony of the bridge.

Before they, too, head up the stairs to the roof, Lucas turns out and waits for Riley to catch up. He starts up the stairs then holds out his hand, making sure she doesn’t get left behind.

Riley looks up at him, fondness written all over her face, and she knows there isn’t really a decision to make. She made it already. In her heart, it’s been settled from the start.

My place is here I fight with you

So she takes Lucas’s hand, who mirrors her smile, and lets him lead the way up the stairs.

EXT. PARIS HOTEL - DAY

Then we’re in a race to the finish line, easing out from starting close on Charlie as he bursts through the lobby doors with his rendition of the title refrain. Through the windows, and along the street, and slowly populating on the rooftop, our entire ensemble congregates for the grand finale. Expertly overlapping, harmonizing and interweaving their voices, as they’ve become very skilled at over the four seasons.

They come back together in unison as they hit their final marks, belting out the final repetitions of the chorus with their eyes towards the horizon. Looking towards the future, whatever tomorrow has in store -- whether they’re ready for it or not.

One more dawn, one more day…

Then they bring it to a climactic conclusion, the ensemble at its full power as they welcome the new day.

Brace yourselves. Tomorrow is here now -- and it’s time to decide what exactly it may hold.

Cue title sequence.

INT. PARIS HOTEL - ISA ROOM - DAY

ISA DE LA CRUZ pulls back the curtains of their hotel room, letting in the morning light. They take a long look at Paris outside, trying to appreciate it and let it clear their buzzing mind.

Doesn’t help much, but it was worth a shot. Instead, they turn back to their bed, where they’re diligently packing. Isa picks up their phone from next to their suitcase when a text lights up the lock screen.

It’s from Dylan, who apparently already left with Asher to extend their European trip to see the Orlando home country of Italy. The first text is to their group chat with Riley.

“we made it to florence (pugh)!! ash was NOT a fan of the overnight accommodations on this train LOLOL”

“will send pics when we make it to Romaaa”

Then, separately, he texts Isa one-on-one.

“hey hey, i hope you’re feeling better this morning and were able to get a good night’s sleep! i’m sure ur still overthinking everything and self-blaming and stuff, so just your morning reminder that you are not irredeemable and you can figure out how to get thru this. just be honest, say ur piece, and advocate for what you want. it’s not easy, but you can do it. text / call if u need!!”

Dylan is probably very well correct. Isa knows that communication can solve these issues they’ve made for themselves, and they have to be mature enough to navigate it. If they actually care about Farkle, they need to at least try. Whether or not Farkle will be receptive is the x factor they can’t account for -- and what makes it so scary.

Not to mention, how are they supposed to articulate how they feel, or what they want, when failing to know how to do so is what caused this disaster in the first place?

EXT. BOUTIQUE CAFE - ROOFTOP - DAY

They’ll have to wait to make their best effort, though, because Farkle is no longer here. That’s what Maya relays as she enjoys tea on the private rooftop terrace of one of the trendiest Parisian cafés, where Rae has arranged for them to have breakfast.

Maya: Thanks for agreeing to sit down with me. Rae: Please. I love a mentor moment. And I loved that you asked -- shows great initiative on your part. You have the hustler’s instinct, I sense it in you. [ off her proud smile ] I must admit, I’m surprised your lanky friend didn’t tag along. You two seemed pretty attached at the hip. Maya: Oh, yeah. He would’ve liked to, I’m sure, but he had to leave. Rae: So fast? He must’ve booked the first flight out. I know most of y’all are stretching the most out of this little adventure. Maya: Mm. Yeah, he… well. Personal emergency.

That’s one way to put it. Maya takes a pointed sip of her tea, buttoning the topic. In any case, Rae is happy to chat just two gals just as well. Whatever Maya wants to know -- about the media business, beauty care, personal problems, Rae will do her best to answer. Fire away.

For starters, Maya has to get one thing off her chest.

Maya: I cannot believe you are good friends with Principal Hunter. Well, former principal. Your glamor, and starpower, next to his… it’s just bizarre. In my opinion. Rae: If I were in your shoes, only knowing him as a stuffy suit-jacketed administrator, I’m sure I’d feel the same way. But that’s the funny thing about time and perception. Once upon a time, he wasn’t so formal, and I wasn’t nearly so high profile -- well, externally. Always was spiritually.

But to be honest, that’s one of the biggest pieces of advice Rae thinks she can give to stay grounded in any fame-centric industry. Holding onto the folks who knew you before. So that something keeps you rooted in reality, reminds you where you came from and what it took to get here.

Rae: Helps keep perspective, and remember not to take things for granted. And also, your boundaries. If I’m debating whether or not to take a job, and the concept makes me wonder “would I really want my pals from college cheer to see this,” then I should think long and hard about it. If I’m not naturally confident in my willingness to defend the project, to anyone, but especially those who know me best, it’s likely not worth it.

Not only that, but it’s the people who’ve known you longest who are best equipped to call you on your bull. In this industry, just like Hollywood, there are plenty of fairweather friends and shallow souls who are all too eager to dive into the ecstasy and exhilaration of the business without considering the consequences. Old friends, real friends, care about you enough as a person to hold the line and help you more seriously consider your choices.

Rae: And believe me, in industries like mine, that can be a lifesaver.

Unfortunately, Maya already knows the feeling. She manages a smile.

INT. PARIS HOTEL - YINDRA ROOM - DAY

Yindra is facing similar questions. She’s looking at the email from Jupiter Records again, reclined on her hotel bed.

“Dear Yindra,

It is our pleasure to officially offer you one of five coveted spots in our brand new girl group endeavor. This was a highly competitive, difficult process, and we appreciate your dedication and resolve to see it through to the end. Ultimately, your presence, charm, and undeniable talent set you apart, and we are thrilled to extend this opportunity to you.

While we understand you may need some time to think about this offer, there is much to do, so we ask that you respond with whether you’d like to proceed with contract negotiations ASAP. As you know, spots in this project are limited, and we hope you’ll respect our time in putting it all together.

Congratulations, and cheers!”

So there it is. She was offered a chance to be in the group. A new path has officially thrown open the gates to reveal itself to her.

But does she take it? Is it something she actually wants to do? Does she want to tie herself to this wagon for who knows how long -- especially since, as far as she can tell, she has no way of knowing who else they offered spots to. Does she want to spend the next four to five years hanging out with TikTok sensation Madysin May?

Lucas, pre-lap: It’s just a lot to think about. I don’t know how I’m ever supposed to decide.

INT. PARIS HOTEL - R&L ROOM - DAY

Lucas’s comment is decidedly sarcastic, as he and Riley are in the midst of packing their suitcases. But he has to decide what shirt he won’t be packing so he can wear it to brunch, which is apparently such a challenging choice.

Or, more truthfully, he is socially burnt out and is dragging his feet getting ready as long as possible to buy time. Riley emerges from the bathroom, dressed in a cute romper and cardigan combination, just finishing fluffing her freshly brushed hair. She gives him a playful head tilt, though she doesn’t bother to hide the way her eyes linger on his shirtless torso.

Riley: It’s Jack, Eric, and Isa. Not exactly high stakes. Lucas: No, no. It’s Jack, Eric, Isa, and their brand new family. I’m not saying I have any problem with these people, but it’s a lot more work having to act normal.

Riley rolls her eyes. She comes over to join him, picking through his suitcase and finding a shirt that works. Plain white, three-quarter sleeves; simple and reliable. She holds it up against his frame.

Riley: Go with this. Pairs well with jeans, brings out the gold in your complexion. But it’s lighter than your usual shade, so they won’t so easily pick up that you’re a lazy rendition of new-wave Goth. Lucas: Gee, thanks. Think I’d be more offended if I knew what that meant. Riley: Everything I ever say to you is a compliment only said with the utmost affection. [ as he takes the shirt and puts it on ] Not to mention that shirt makes your arms look incredible. Irrelevant to them, though, that’s just for me.

But of course. Lucas shakes his head, adjusting the shirt and rolling the sleeves up to his elbows. Riley gets a good, appreciative look, beaming when he holds out his arms to get her approval. Good?

Riley: Perfect. What a beautiful first impression you’ll make. Lucas: All thanks to you. Riley: All thanks to me. [ giving him a brisk kiss ] What would you do without me?

That is the question, isn’t it, Riley… one she has decided she doesn’t want to learn the answer to. She won’t ever have to know, because in her mind, they’re taking the next step forward together. She wouldn’t want to miss a thing.

Lucas doesn’t necessarily want to know the answer to that question either… but boy, has he been thinking a lot more about it now. Now that he knows Riley has made up her mind, and he has to figure out how to respond. He wishes he didn’t know. He wishes Farkle never told him.

But at the same time, he knows he should be glad. Farkle gave him the greatest gift there is -- he bought him time. Time to consider, to stop this if he finds the right way. He can keep Riley from making such a huge mistake, all over him -- which really isn’t much to risk everything for. But can he? Should he?

Damn it, does he want to stop it?

Riley, oblivious to his inner debate, slings her purse over her shoulder and offers him a smile. She extends a hand to him.

Riley: Ready?

Wouldn’t it be nice for the days to come to be just like this? With this shared comfort, intimacy, a natural and well-earned rapport? Nothing about that has to change. He doesn’t have to do anything. He can, and should, embrace Riley’s desire and see what they can do with a new world together.

That could be enough. Couldn’t it be that simple?

INT. PARIS HOTEL - LOBBY - DAY

Back from her tea with Rae, Maya makes her way back into the hotel just as Josh is coming down to the lobby. He spots her from the staircase and picks up the pace, jogging and skipping a few steps so he can catch her before she heads for the elevators.

Mostly because he has an update. He got more details from Floyd about the specifics of his conversation with Jupiter Records, and what exactly they’re giving Josh as they decide whether to bring him on as a producer. Essentially, they’re giving him the coming week to provide them a portfolio -- along with something brand new that they can scoop up if they decide they like it.

Josh: But they weren’t much more specific than that. So how we want to drop it, what we want to make, that’s up to us -- I think that’s part of the challenge, honestly. A litmus test, to see if we have the momentum to make us worth picking up. Maya: We?

Right. Better clarify that too, while they’re at it. After a beat, Josh nods.

Josh: I meant what I said last night. I want you to be my client -- if you’ll have me. And if this last portfolio drop is my one shot to prove what I’m capable of, then there is no wiser way to do that than by collaborating with you. I think the last six months has made that abundantly clear.

Whatever their careers have in store, right now, it’s at least clear that the two of them have something special. Call it what you will -- a spark, musical chemistry, the same form of mental illness -- but they get each other. And when they work together, great stuff comes out of it.

Maya knows that. She felt it too.

Maya: I appreciate that. And I agree, it could be a smart move. For both of us.

Josh nods emphatically.

However… Maya slows her roll, treading cautiously, as showing weakness isn’t her forte. But Josh has already seen her at her lowest, by happenstance, so if she can be honest with anyone…

Maya: I just… haven’t fully decided what I want to do yet. After… everything that’s happened. Josh: … oh.

She’s not completely opposed to the idea. Not at all. Even just thinking about the possibilities is putting some fire back in her spirit. She just… isn’t sure.

Maya: Could I have a couple days to think about it? Josh: Yeah. Yeah, absolutely. Just… you know, sooner rather than later is better. Since we only have so long -- Maya: Right. Copy that. I respect a deadline.

She’ll let him know ASAP. Right now, she has to get moving -- she has other plans this afternoon before their flight back stateside…

INT. PARIS HOTEL - Z&C ROOM - DAY

Zay and Charlie, on the other hand, appear to be in no rush to go anywhere. They’re luxuriating in a lazy morning in their hotel room, half-dressed and sprawled in bed with different room service menu items spread out on trays across the strewn blankets. Sampling the best of the French cuisine before they go back home -- may as well, since they’re there at all!

Well, that’s mostly true, though Zay is being characteristically stubborn about some things. One of the small amuse-bouche-esque items on the tray he’s determined he has no interest in trying, just based off snap judgment, despite Charlie’s attempts to convince him otherwise.

Charlie: I’m telling you, you’ll like it. Looks can be deceiving. I’ve had it, and it’s good. Zay: Oh, well, worldly tastemaker Charles John Paul decrees it so. How could I say no? Charlie: Come on, don’t you trust me? Try a taste of something different. It’s good to get out of your comfort zone. Zay: That is one of the richest statements in the world, coming from you. Historically speaking. [ off his eye roll ] Besides, I think I’d rather taste some of the other things on this bed again…

He flirtatiously eyes Charlie’s lips, letting his hand trace leisurely along his forearm. Which most definitely sends a tingle up Charlie’s spine, but he insists on being brave and ignoring it because he’s trying to make a point. He reaches to grab one of the little quiche-like pastries.

Charlie: Come on, just one bite. Just to prove that I’m right. Zay: Wow. When did you get all tenacious? [ a beat ] Kinda hot, actually.

Stop making him blush, Zay, this is serious business! Charlie holds out the snack, right in front of his lips, then nudges him into taking a bite. Finally, Zay relents, mainly because Charlie is too darn cute not to. He lets Charlie feed it to him and takes a long moment to experience it, drawing it out for dramatic effect. Charlie raises his eyebrows expectantly.

All right, fair enough. He’s right. Zay swallows and hums.

Zay: Hell, okay, that was good.

See! Charlie holds his hands out, as if to say he told him so.

Charlie: Best thing you’ve had so far, right? Zay: Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. That’s stiff competition. And to be fair, I’d need to revisit all the past competitors to decide who the true victor is. [ with a smirk ] In fact, let me get a little refresher right now --

Zay sits up and takes Charlie’s face, pulling him into a kiss. The latter grins against his lips, not able to help himself.

Charlie: Well? Verdict? Zay: Mm… too close to call. Need more samples --

So he kisses him again, causing Charlie to laugh. One kiss becomes two, then another, growing more indulgent. It’s their last morning in Paris, and they’ve got nothing else to do -- what better way to make the most of the city of love?

That is, until Zay’s phone buzzes. He breaks from Charlie temporarily to glance at it, seeing Maya’s contact image light up the screen. Disinterested, he ignores it, going back to Charlie.

Charlie: Aren’t you going to answer? Zay: Um, no? Fuck that.

He’s got much better things to do right now. Charlie shakes his head, but doesn’t complain, returning his next kiss with equal enthusiasm.

The phone stops ringing; they keep kissing. Getting more wrapped up in each other…

Then the hotel phone rings, much louder and harder to ignore. Charlie jumps, and Zay growls, leaning away from him and stretching to pick up the phone off its cradle.

Zay, bluntly: What?

INT. PARIS HOTEL - F&M ROOM - DAY

Maya makes a face at his harsh greeting, utterly delighted to be bothering him. She can’t disguise the amusement in her voice. The conversation continues intercut between them.

Maya: My, my, my, so grouchy. Did you get up on the wrong side of le lit this morning, Zayby? Zay: What do you want? Maya: Or am I just interrupting something? Knowing your current rooming situation, I would’ve assumed you’d be in a better mood. Would’ve expected Charlie Gardner with his gay pixie dust to be better at lifting the spirits. Tell him hello for me, would you? Zay: I’m hanging up on you --

Wait, wait, no need to be so hasty! She wanted to tell him it’s time to get the hell out of bed -- assuming that’s where he still is. They only have so many hours left in Paris, and they shan’t be wasting them.

Maya: Besides, you promised me you’d go into the city with me today. Zay: When the hell did I say that? Maya: Yesterday. Before we went to bed. The reception was wrapping up, and we were in the elevator, and I was talking about the sights I wanted to see and telling you you’d surely want to see them too. Since, you know, we have a tasteful kinship and shared aestheticism for the dazzling. Zay: I don’t know that I’d be that generous. Maya: So I was telling you all about this, saying we should go tomorrow, and you were staring at Charlie Gardner between us with that demented Charlie-Gardner-specific look in your eyes --

Charlie can hear enough through the phone, and it is taking everything in him not to crack up. Zay gives him a look, lightly kicking at his legs with his foot.

Maya: And finally, before you and Charlie Gardner got off at your floor, you were like “sure, sure, whatever,” which, for legal purposes, is an agreement. Zay: For the love of God. Maya: No, just me. But I love that you value my companionship so much.

Zay slouches back against the pillows in exasperation, half-pulling one over his face.

Maya: So I’ll see you in the lobby in fifteen. I suppose you can invite Charlie Gardner along, if you must. I presume he doesn’t have anything better to do. Zay: I’m hanging up for real now. Maya: Kisses! See you soon! Zay: Ugh.

Zay tosses the phone back onto its cradle, flopping back down and fully suffocating himself with the pillow. Charlie pats his torso soothingly.

Zay: I hate her. Charlie: No, you don’t.

No, he doesn’t. Zay sighs dramatically, throwing the pillow to the side.

Zay: No, I don’t. That’s the worst fucking part.

Hey, that’s the beauty and burden of family. Charlie grins. He leans over and gives Zay an affectionate kiss, enough to sate him for now.

Charlie: Well, I guess we better get dressed then. Fifteen minutes is shorter than you think.

Yes, surely… but even so… Zay lets his gaze linger as Charlie sits up and leans over the side of the bed to retrieve his shirt. Soaking up the view…

Zay: Fucking hell. She’ll live.

Maya can wait just a little bit longer. Charlie glances over his shoulder just as Zay grabs him from behind, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him back down into another kiss.

Charlie bursts into laughter, but obliges, letting Zay rope him back into sanctuary.

INT. PARIS RESTAURANT - TERRACE - DAY

As promised, the whole Isa clan is meeting with ZACHARY MACNAMARA and RUBY MACNAMARA for a pleasant brunch before travel sends them in differing directions. The mood is warm and cheerful, and given everyone was just polished up to their best for a wedding, no one is looking too scruffy like usual (and to Riley’s credit, that shirt she picked out does make Lucas look good -- especially those arms).

Even so, lest they get any misleading ideas of how composed the group of them are, Isa dissuades that as they go through the logic puzzle of trying to explain how this little tribe came to be.

Isa: So I guess technically it started with Jack admitting me into Adams, or whoever is in charge of all that -- Jack: I had a hand, yes. Eric: It’s a collaborative process building each class of freshmen. We try to consider a lot of factors -- application, of course, but also balance of strengths, skills, backgrounds… Jack: It takes weeks to get through it all. The actual meeting where we finalize the class usually lasts all day. I remember that year felt particularly long. Eric: But we pulled it together in the end. And I’d say we got a pretty special cohort out of it. Jack: For better or worse. Lucas: You sure created something all right…

Special, definitely. The rest is up for interpretation. Isa continues, undeterred, Zachary and Ruby listening in rapt fascination.

Isa: And then Jack decided to admit Lucas even though he didn’t apply, for confidential reasons, and this pissed everyone off basically as soon as they got to know Lucas. Because he didn’t make it a secret that he didn’t have that much interest in performing, and didn’t really care to be there.

Lucas shrugs, not denying it. Riley hides her amused smile behind her hand.

Jack: It’s a long story. Lucas: One even I only got in full about thirty hours ago. Isa: So we’re at this school, and everyone is crazy -- really, not joking -- and Jack and Eric are always fighting. Like, we rarely saw Jack that often as freshmen anyway -- Lucas: Speak for yourself. Isa: But any time we did and they were both there, it was like, obvious sparks. Definitely not agreeable. Ruby: Kind of like you and Farkle? The way you told us about your start as friends, at least.

Huh… yeah, maybe so. That reminder trips Isa up, but Jack and Eric keep the conversation going seamlessly.

Jack: We were not that bad. Isa/Lucas: Yes, you were. Eric: They’re exaggerating. Isa/Lucas: No, we’re not. Jack: We were professionals. Lucas: Barely. Isa: Hopefully I’ve painted a decent enough picture of the initial chaos. But somehow, in those first couple weeks, Lucas and I became friends. I think mainly because no one else wanted to be friends with us, and we both put people off, so it was just the two of us left at some point. Lucas: Special talent. Isa: But I guess that’s kind of why it worked. We didn’t really intimidate each other the way we did other people. So it just… worked out. And after that, it was pretty easy. That was pretty much the way of the world until sophomore year when Riley showed up. Lucas: And flipped everything upside down.

Yep, sure did -- and boy, are they all better for it. Riley beams, quickly directing it towards Lucas, who blushes next to her and dips his head down to hide his smile.

Ruby: And you befriended the loners here. Isa: For some reason. Still not sure I get why. Riley: [ with an eye roll ] They’re equally as charming today as they were then.

But no, the draw was easy for Riley. They felt like the most authentic people, albeit intimidating, and she was looking for a place to put her foot in the door and start to build community. In spite of their brusque personalities, that felt way more manageable with the techies than the cutthroat performers at that point.

Riley: They’re telling you part of the story, but what Isa is leaving out is that the techies just had this like… amazing energy. A little off-putting at first glance, won’t lie, but it only took about a day to realize that they were a tight-knit group of friends. They cared about each other, and they had each other’s backs, even with the varied personalities in their circle. I wanted that. And to get it, it seemed, I’d have to go through the leadership -- [ nudging Isa ] i.e., this one. Isa: That, and she had a thing for Lucas basically from day one. Riley: Um, hey now… Lucas: Again, no one is sure why.

From there, once she got her in, the rest is kind of like bizarre clockwork. It’s hard to even put into words, since living it felt so strange and overwhelming and at times so difficult they weren’t sure they’d make it out the other side. Suffice to say, it wasn’t easy to get to this place, sitting around this table sharing a meal after just celebrating one of the most important moments of their lives.

But they made it. Isa struggles to compose their twisted narrative into a comprehensible story, so Ruby does them the favor of skipping to the end.

Ruby: Well, no matter how you got here all tangled up the way you are, it’s clearly working out beautifully for all of you. [ sincere ] It’s a truly special family you’ve got here, Isa.

Yeah… yeah, it is. It’s not the first time someone has said this sentiment to them, in some capacity, but these days it feels more palpable than ever. Jack and Eric exchange smiles with their not-kids, basking in the glow of that sentiment.

INT. PARIS CAFE - DAY

Not everything can be so easy this morning, however. Yindra is having late breakfast with Jade, finding an authentic hole-in-the-wall café to enjoy while they’re still in the city. The ambience helps offset the tension of the conversation, as Yindra is doing her best -- albeit without sugarcoating -- to play defense for Nigel.

Yindra: Like, look, you know he is my best friend. I’m coming at this with a bias because I love the man, messy as he is. Jade: I know that. I love him too. Which is part of what makes this so hard. Yindra: And he should not have waited so long to tell you he was thinking about this. Zay and I told him so, more than once. Just so you know we were backing your rights. Jade: I appreciate that. Yindra: And if you truly feel this is too much, and you need to dump his scrawny, adorable ass, then I’m not going to fight you on it. That is your choice, and yours alone. But whatever you do, all I am asking is that you talk to him. Because since last night it’s been radio silence and he is… well, basically freaking the fuck out.

Jade can imagine. She’s known him long enough to picture it. And it’s not that she doesn’t want to talk through whatever they need to do. She will.

Jade: I just… need some time to think it through. On my own.

She is far from the only one facing some daunting choices. Yindra is included in that boat -- and gets a prompt reminder of it when she receives another email on her phone. It’s from Jupiter Records, again, following up with a bulletin of sorts on the group.

“This email is to inform you that ⅕ spots have officially been accepted in the group. Our time and opportunities are limited, so please respond with your decision as soon as possible.”

Whoa, whoa, whoa. They’re basically counting down this thing? Based on the confusion in her expression, Jade can tell something is up. Yindra shows her the email.

Jade: What does this mean? Why would they tell you this? Yindra: I don’t know. I have no idea. Jade: Seems kind of pressuring, doesn’t it? [ thinking ] And if they’re encouraging you to act fast -- big persuasion energy, by the way -- like the spots are “limited,” doesn’t that kind of imply -- Yindra: I’m on a clock. And I’m not the only one with an offer.

Which she knew, obviously, but that’s different if it’s four other girls getting offered their spot. If this is like college admissions, and they extended more than five invitations to cover their bases, then it’s not just about being the best and making the cut. It’s about making the cut and making a choice, with little to no time to meander on it.

Because if she waits too long, waffling too much, she just might miss her chance entirely.

EXT. PALAIS GARNIER - DAY

Right in the thick of the packed arrondissements, the Palais Garnier opera house stands as a grand display of architectural beauty and elegance. It is even more breathtaking inside.

This is what Maya has decided she needs to see before they depart, hot beverage in hand as she tilts her head back and takes in the theater. She inhales a deep breath and closes her eyes, soaking up the energy of the place.

The camera pans to her side, showing that Zay has in fact tagged -- or been dragged -- along with her. He seems less moved than her, more focused on side-eyeing Maya’s theatrical reception than actually observing the structure itself. As our perspective widens one more time, Charlie also enters the frame, standing next to Zay and also gazing up at the opera house.

Maya: Do you feel the magic in the air? Doesn’t the performer’s pull just ignite your soul? Zay: I think that’s just the coffee hitting.

Yeah, not going to humor Maya’s theatrical antics this morning. Charlie makes a face but politely says nothing, taking a sip of the coffee he and Zay are sharing.

Maya: It’s a cultural touchstone standing before us, Babs. Rachel said the best of the best VIPs take care to make their rounds in these hallowed halls. As the global entertainers of tomorrow, it’s only customary that we pay our respects. Zay: You don’t sing opera. Charlie: Yeah, with all due respect to both forms, I wouldn’t exactly call Verdi a comparable to “O.M.G.”

Oh, he just had to remind her he was there… Maya opens her eyes, flat stare directed towards the opera house and just begging to be shot straight at Charlie. Instead, she gathers her composure, slapping on her sickly sweet Charlie Gardner smile and batting her eyelashes at him.

Maya: I wouldn’t expect you to understand the magnetism, Charlie Gardner, given that your grand life aspirations are neither performative nor pioneering. Or did you ever actually decide on what it is you wanted to spend your quaint, quotidian existence doing? I can’t recall if you mentioned it between all the minutes you’ve spent talking about the various ancient rocks you saw across Europe this summer.

Yeesh, okay, maybe it wasn’t just Zay who woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. If she really wanted to just hang out with him, she should’ve said so. Graciously, Charlie takes the digs in stride, raising a hand in surrender.

Zay: Let’s not forget who choreographed your oh-so-special video for “O.M.G.” while we’re taking creative shots.

Fair enough… Maya shrugs, sipping her own drink. Zay rolls his eyes. Charlie manages not to laugh, turning towards Zay and speaking softer.

Charlie: Anyway… I’m gonna go catch the train to meet Yindra. I promised we’d meet at noon. Zay: Sounds good. Charlie: But I’ll see you back at the hotel. Zay: Okay. Charlie: Okay.

Even just talking logistics, right now they simply have to smile when looking at each other. Charlie leans in to steal a soft kiss goodbye -- he can’t help himself -- and Zay has no objections.

Maya watches all of this out of the corner of her eye with mild interest (and pointed judgment), but she doesn’t comment. When they pull apart and Charlie heads off, he tosses one more pithy goodbye in Maya’s direction.

Charlie: Salut, Maya.

She offers a wave in return, though she’s obviously not saddened by his departure. Once the two divas are alone, Maya loudly clears her throat.

Maya: Well. You two are certainly coming off cozy… [ a beat ] and hormonal.

If Zay keeps rolling his eyes, they’re going to fall out of his head.

Zay: Offense intended, but you are the last person I would consider an expert in reading interpersonal dynamics. Maya: Please. My radar is impeccable. [ looking at the opera house ] So I suppose this means you’ve made your decision about the tour. Zay: I might have. Maya: And based on that little display, I presume you’ve chosen him. Zay: Did I say that? Maya: No one macks on each other like that if they’re planning on cutting ties in short order. And I don’t think I would be so keen to be all moon-eyed at someone if they were promptly planning on dumping me to travel the continental U.S. Zay: Well, as you so frequently love to point out, you and Charlie are not the same. [ off her nod ] Anyway, I haven’t said anything yet. When I want people to know what I’ve decided to do, then they’ll know. Until that time, once I’ve got it all worked out, you can kindly keep your assumptions to yourself.

If he says so… Maya relents, making a gesture of zipping her lips. Zay will believe it when he sees it -- would be a miracle -- but he moves on for now. He asks if Maya has figured out what her plans are upon return to the States. She raises her eyebrows, asking what he means.

Zay: Yindra mentioned you were dropping your producers. Maya: Oh. I see. Zay: Which, hey, no judgment here. If they aren’t working, they aren’t working -- which wouldn’t surprise me, because “Haute Stuff” was a hot mess. No offense to you. Maya: None taken. It definitely wasn’t my creative direction. Zay: So I’m just curious. If not them, then what happens next?

That is the question, isn’t it, Zay… one Maya herself is still trying to settle on. But for now, she plays coy, keeping up the confident diva persona for as long as it’ll sustain her. She shrugs, dropping her sunglasses back over her eyes.

Maya: All maneuvers in the diva chess master playbook will be revealed in due time. What is meant to be will be. Zay: Kind of sounds like “I don’t know” in fortune cookie speak to me.

He has always had a knack for seeing through her bravado, when there was something to see… but she isn’t going to show her cards so easily. She remains aloof, neither confirming nor denying.

Before long, both of them will have their paths laid out, for better or worse.

EXT. PARIS RESTAURANT - DAY

Outside the restaurant, Jack works to call Ruby and Zachary a taxi while the others share their goodbyes. The MacNamaras each exchange a warm hug with Eric, congratulating him again and thanking him for allowing them to join the celebration.

Eric: Of course. We’re family, somehow. Isa: In the twisted pretzel that is my social circle. Eric: And who you should really be thanking is Isa. I thought about extending the invite, but when I suggested it to them they basically insisted.

Well, that’s sweet to hear. Isa smiles bashfully. Zachary shakes hands with Lucas, while Ruby takes Riley’s.

Zachary: It was great to meet you as well. Riley: Likewise. Ruby: Hopefully it won’t be long before we see you all again. [ to Isa ] Especially you, of course, but know that all of your friends are welcome in our home. Any time. Always. Riley: Well, certainly won’t pass up that invitation. Isa: I’ll wield that power wisely. Ruby: You, Lucas, Dylan, Molly -- any and all of them! Oh, and Farkle, naturally. A friend of yours is a friend of ours.

It’s just that last name that stings… and feels increasingly unlikely by the day. Isa manages to hold their smile, though it falters.

INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - DAY

As Maya noted, Farkle did in fact book it home before anyone else. He’s back from the airport and in his room, not bothering to unpack as it’ll only be a couple more days before he’s back in the air again. Instead, he’s packing his other suitcase, wasting no time to high-tail it out of there.

Funny, how things can flip on a dime. Just days ago, it felt so good to be back in New York -- like there wasn’t anywhere else he wanted to be. A place he was so certain he was meant to belong.

Now…

JENNIFER MINKUS interrupts his brooding, bringing in dry-cleaning that they had rush done. Farkle thanks her and carefully deposits them into the emptier suitcase. She starts off chipper, blithely informing him of something she thinks he’ll find exciting: she’s decided to dip her toe into the theater scene!

Jennifer: Nothing major -- I’m no star like you -- but Stuart agreed we could divert some of our assets into exploring this little pet hobby of mine. Try my hand at a little bit of producing. You got all your creative vision from somewhere, you know. Farkle: That sounds great, mom. You’ll have to keep me updated.

Although his support is genuine, his response is way more muted than she was hoping for or expecting. Not nearly as enthusiastic, or theatrical, lacking his usual frenetic spark.

Jennifer watches her son, sensing that something in his demeanor has shifted but unable to pinpoint exactly what. Ever since junior year, her instincts are sharper than ever when it comes to him. She just wishes she had the ability to read his mind.

So she attempts to dig a bit, asking how the wedding went. Did he have fun? Farkle rattles off a noncommittal answer, but doesn’t go into details.

Jennifer: That’s all? Come on, let your long-married mother live a little vicariously. It’s been ages. How was the ambience? Did you get to see any of the ceremony? [ with flair ] God, there is nothing like the energy at a wedding reception. I mean, the sheer romance -- Farkle, clipped: I don’t want to talk about it.

Oh. Well… okay then. Jennifer takes the hint, but given his brusque tone, she takes the risk to question if everything is all right. He assures her he’s fine, just… done with this little break. Ready to move on. Right now, he just wants to make it back to Los Angeles.

Farkle: I’m done with the past. I’m ready to focus on the future.

There’s not much left for him here anymore.

EXT. PARIS HOTEL - DAY

Back at the hotel, Jack and Eric are loading their bags into their rental car. Their honeymoon begins now, as they’re going to take a couple of weeks to venture through Europe together.

While Riley insists on helping them with their things, Lucas and Isa focus on staying out of the way. They hang by the curb, Lucas quietly pointing out that things with the MacNamaras seemed pretty good. Not that he’s the expert, but…

Lucas: If they were nice enough to claim it was a pleasure to meet me, they seem like good people. Supportive of all the quirks in your world, at least. Isa: Yeah. Yeah, they are. [ with a deep breath ] Not gonna lie, it was really fucking weird having them here at first. All of the… everything crashing together. My brain isn’t totally grasping the whole… different compartments of my life suddenly getting thrown together in a blender and somehow not coming out terrible.

But it did. For the most part, Isa survived, and it wasn’t a total disaster (with one glaring exception). Lucas is right, though, that things feel good with their insane, interwoven web of a family… by whatever definition it may be.

Isa: To be honest, that’s kind of the one thing I can dare to feel optimistic about right now.

Hey, we’ll take optimism, in whatever form we can get it. Lucas nods.

Bags stashed away, Jack and Eric return to the sidewalk to say their final goodbyes. Hugs are exchanged all around, and briefly, key private moments are shared. When Jack is busy bantering with Isa and Lucas, Riley takes the opportunity to quickly seek last-minute counsel from her uncle. She knows he doesn’t have a ton of time, because he has to go off and have the best honeymoon, but…

Riley: Plans might be different when you come back. I’m probably not going to be at NYU anymore. Eric: No? Riley: No. [ softer ] I want to go to California with Lucas. Not for him, you know, just… I’m not super attached to the theater scene, or New York, and I know there’s other things to explore there. I can find stuff to do. And I was so interested in the campaign, and community events -- I know it probably feels like, sudden and crazy, but --

Eric takes her shoulders gently, mirroring her delicate tone.

Eric: Riley. Do you feel good about this decision? Does it feel right to you? Riley: … yeah. Yeah, it does. Eric: Then that’s all the guidance you need. You’re right, though, I know you -- you’ll find success wherever you go.

So if she thought she was going to shock him, or cause grave concern, think again. He’s not Cory; he has no doubt about whether Riley can figure out what she wants and needs in her own life.

Which is exactly what she wanted and needed to hear. She smiles wide, exchanging another tight embrace with him before Isa wanders over to join them.

Leaving Jack and Lucas alone for a moment. Neither of them exactly know what to say, as they aren’t great at sappy things like goodbyes. Especially after all the sappy they expelled during the wedding. So naturally, it starts out awkward.

Lucas: Long drive? Where… ever it is you’re going? Jack: Eh, not very. We’ve broken up the adventure pretty well. Lucas: Ah. Cool. Well… have fun. Jack: Thanks. [ a beat ] We’ll be back before you know it, though. Only a couple of weeks. Lucas: Right. For sure.

Yep… well. With that, guess there’s not much else to say… except Lucas does stumble into more, clearing his throat before it spills out of him.

Lucas: A lot’s going to be changing soon. Going to California, and stuff. Kind of far away. Jack: Sure is. You’ll be fine, though. Lucas: Yeah. Yeah. [ a beat ] I just… I don’t know how it’s gonna go. Or anything. I’m not amazing at communicating anyway, and it’s hard enough to get me when I’m, like, right there. And who knows what ways I’ll discover to fuck this all up. [ off his head shake ] I guess I just want to be clear, you know… you and me. How things are… whatever I do, out there, I hope it doesn’t --

Jack smiles, reaching out and taking Lucas’s shoulder. He gives it a bracing squeeze, waiting for him to meet his eyes.

Jack: You and me will be fine. No matter what happens.

Think they’ve earned the right to say so after all they’ve been through. And tellingly, Jack understood what he was trying to say.

Lucas nods, grateful… then initiates a hug. Jack happily returns it.

When they pull back, Jack offers one more reassurance.

Jack: What my mom said, about the two of us… she’s full of a lot of nonsense, but she was spot on about that.

In some ways, they are one in the same. And that is a much, much more preferable perspective than the one where he’s the reflection of Kenneth -- the shadow looming over him that he’s trying so hard to shake off.

As Riley jumps over to join the two of them, Isa and Eric get their own chance to say goodbye. It won’t be long until they see each other again, but even so, Eric’s caretaker instincts have kicked in and he has to confirm that everything will be under control while he’s away. Isa will be okay, right? They’re not forgetting anything important to check on, are they?

Isa: It’s legit amazing you don’t already have kids. You’re like, the most natural nag I’ve ever heard. Is that a theater kid symptom too?

Eric rolls his eyes, but in truth, the light teasing is appreciated. Helps lighten the mood of departure. On a more serious note, though, Eric does want to make sure Isa is going to be okay with him gone, given… everything that happened at the reception. The meltdown, the family merging, the drama with Farkle… seriously, is there anything he can do? If they need him, at any point, he’s only a call away.

Isa halts his fretting, holding up a hand.

Isa: Stop, all right? I’m okay. I’ll be okay. You’re about to go on your honeymoon -- don’t spend that whole time worrying about me. Eric: You say that like it’s so easy. Isa: I know it isn’t. For some reason. You’re kind of the first parent I’ve had who seems to find it hard to forget about me. [ off his grimace ] But seriously, chill. I survived the wedding. I’ll survive whatever happens next. It’s stuff I have to figure out, anyway. On my own. And considering how much time you’ve spent giving me the tools, hopefully we can both believe I can tackle it.

At some point, he’s going to have to let them fly free without a safety net. They both have to trust that they can. Eric nods, accepting that, commending the maturity Isa has already displayed.

Isa: If you want to help, just… go have fun with your new husband and promise me I won’t change that. Eric: [ with a laugh ] Deal.

Isa offers their hand to shake on it, which Eric plays along with and accepts. Then he pulls them closer, giving them an affectionate kiss on the forehead.

And with that, it’s really time to go. Jack goes for the driver’s seat and climbs in as Eric pulls open the passenger side door, Riley, Lucas, and Isa gathering together on the curb. Eric waves through the window as they pull onto the street, Riley blowing kisses after them.

INT. NOTRE DAME CATHEDRAL - DAY

One of the most famous pieces of religious architecture in the world, revered for its beauty (and rightfully so), the Notre Dame is perhaps one of those must-see Parisian landmarks. It may not hold much appeal to someone like Maya or Isa…

But for Yindra and Charlie, it would be almost blasphemous not to pay their respects. Panning down from the towering vaulted ceilings and stained glass, we land on the two of them, who are looking up at the interior of the cathedral in quiet awe. They’re far from the only two in the space -- it’s a tourist attraction as much as it’s a religious venue, after all -- but something about the ambience makes it feel like otherwise.

Around them, the patrons passing through are respectfully muted, nothing but footsteps and gentle murmurs echoing through the stone walls. Once they’ve stopped staring starstruck enough to move, Charlie joins that soft chorus, leaning closer to whisper to Yindra.

Charlie: I’m going to look around -- I have to see that stained glass. Yindra: Right. For sure. Charlie: Do you want to stick together? I don’t mind waiting if -- Yindra: Oh, no. No, you do you. It’s not like we’ll get lost in here. [ with a smile ] Go ahead. We’ll find each other in a bit.

Charlie nods, returning the smile and lightly bumping her elbow before he steps away. Yindra watches him go, then inhales a deep breath, gazing up at the daunting scenery again.

While she wasn’t lying about her cool with letting them split up, she has additional motives as well. There’s something she needs to do while she’s here -- something she thinks she needs to do alone.

She moves further into the cathedral, doing her best not to draw attention or get in anyone’s way. She approaches the side of the pews where a stand is set up, allowing you to light a votive candle and it add to the display for about two euros. She pulls that and whatever she has left from her pocket, dropping it into the tin and taking a candle for herself.

Delicately, Yindra lights it, covering the little flame protectively with her palm so it won’t blow out. She settles it into its own spot amongst the rest, another glimmer of light joining the warm communal glow.

It’s the only offering she has, so she better make it count. It’s what she really wanted to come here for, after all. Communion. Right now, she needs advice -- and what better a place to make her plea than one of the most famous phone booths for the big man upstairs itself?

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “God Help the Outcasts” as performed by Hunchback of Notre Dame Original Movie Cast Recording || Performed by Yindra Amino (feat. Charlie Gardner)

The opening instrumental floats in as Yindra glances around her to make sure no one is too close by, then she exhales a sigh. She clasps her hands together in front of her, closing her eyes.

Yindra: Hi, God. How’s it going? Given the state of the world these days, probably not great, I know -- I don’t know why I ask you that every time I do this. [ with a huff ] That’s to say, I know you have a ton to deal with, but if you’ve got a spare second, I’d really like some guidance.

A family passes by her, causing her to pause for a moment. Once they’re gone, she continues.

Yindra: I have a potentially amazing opportunity in front of me, but I’m not sure if I should take it. And even admitting that feels silly, because… I mean, it’s an opportunity. It’s anything, and I should be grateful it’s not nothing. And I am excited about it -- there is something to the idea that makes me eager to dive in. Even so… I just don’t want to make a big mistake. I don’t want to make some choice, this early and this young, that completely derails my dreams before I’ve had the chance to manifest them into any version of reality. And I know that some of that is on me, that I’m not helpless in this situation. In fact, right now, I have all the power here; I choose whether I do this or not. But I just… [ growing shaky ] This industry has been… a lot. It’s so hard to know what’s your gut, telling you a truth, and just fear holding you back from what you’re meant to do. And if I weren’t so invested -- if I were smart, maybe, like Charlie -- I’d run in the other direction. Do something that doesn’t require any of that adrenaline, or uncertainty, or leaps of faith. [ resigned ] But I love it. Singing is… everything to me. I know that, in spite of it all. I’m just not sure yet if this path, the one in front of me right now, is the way to honor that love.

Choices at this age are daunting no matter what, but especially in this industry. In this machine that holds all their dreams behind a glittering gate, that has already seemingly chewed up and perhaps spat out one of her peers (and greatest competitors and contemporaries). If it could do that to Maya, the most steely and unabashed of them all…

Yindra: So I guess… I’m just… looking for a sign. If you’ve got the time and effort to spare. It doesn’t have to be anything major. Just give me… some hint that this is what I’m meant to be doing. That this path isn’t going to tear me apart. That’s all I’m asking for.

But then, what is she expecting, exactly? Her problems are so small, so privileged, compared to the ones God has to be battling. If he’s even there at all, and she’s not just sending up prayers to the ether like Zay and Nigel think.

But she has always felt a part of something just a little bigger in spaces like these. Felt a bit like home, held in some sort of embrace that assured her things would be all right. That’s what she knows. And she knows that she has to believe in something -- something more than just herself.

These days, even that feels like a test of faith. As the instrumental gently descends into the opening lines, Yindra begins to sing.

I don’t know if you can hear me, or if you’re even there I don’t know if you would listen to my humble prayer

As she sings, it’s clear that she’s not just singing about her own uncertainty and prospects -- she’s thinking about all of them. Her cohort, the people she’s gotten this far with in spite of it all; the ones also struggling with these challenging decisions.

God help the outcasts, hungry from birth Show them the mercy they don’t find on Earth

Yindra finishes out the rest of the first verse and chorus, transitioning away from the votive candles and further into the cathedral. The scenery sets the contemplative scene around her while she softly makes her modest plea.

The performance then shifts, an unfamiliar chorus of the prayers of passersby taking over. As Yindra walks amongst them through the pews, we hear the small and large asks, hers just one of many amongst the congregation -- wealth, fame, glory. Love, earned or not; blessings, earned or not. So many desires, so many wishes that all are hoping some cosmic force up above will bring to fruition.

Charlie, on the other hand, has a different stance -- which he vocalizes when we find him again in the cathedral and ground back down to the familiar.

I ask for nothing, I can get by But I know so many less lucky than I

Even with all he’s been through, including recent cataclysms, Charlie doesn’t want anything more. He’s already found peace, some version of it anyway, and he had to work damn hard to earn it. But he’s of a similar mind as Yindra, speaking for more than just himself. Speaking for his peers, but speaking as well for a much larger community he’s embraced in the last year. The part of himself that he’s worked so hard to accept; the one that may have cost him his family because they don’t share that view.

Please help my people, the poor and downtrod I thought we all were the children of God?

Yindra has made it to the front, standing before the altar with the gorgeous stained glass windows lofty above it all. This is where Charlie finds her, joining her before she sings the final lines.

Once she wraps the last note, and the orchestral outro brings us to a tender conclusion, Yindra looks to her left at Charlie. He smiles back, light and unassuming. Then, he offers her a hand.

Yindra takes it. She links their arms and pulls him closer, resting her head against his shoulder. His smile brightens and he gently tilts his head against hers, the two of them gazing up at the cathedral again.

Still without answers, perhaps not as secure as they once were, but safe and supported with one another.

INT. PARIS HOTEL - R&L ROOM - DAY

Riley is getting her purse together before she heads out again, working on a tight clock to get in all of the Paris-ing she wants to before their flight home. She pauses long enough to let Isa in when they knock unexpectedly on the door.

Isa: I was wondering if you had a second -- Riley: Totally. Of course. Like, a second second, because I’m just about to head out. Isa: Oh. Well, I just -- Riley: Nigel and I were going to walk the Seine one more time and I told him I’d meet him down in the lobby like five minutes ago. And you’re going to see Chai, right? I saw on Insta she has a new girlfriend -- need tea on that, by the way. Isa: Sure. But I just need to -- Riley: And now I can’t find my chapstick, which I’m pretty sure is actually in the bathroom, but Lucas is showering right now, and it’s not like I can’t just pop in there, you know, but sometimes he gets all -- [ on the other hand ] or sometimes I get -- Isa: [ getting it over with ] I think Farkle hates me now.

Yeah, that does the trick. Riley stops dead in her tracks, whipping her head up to look at them. Understandably, she looks baffled by the comment.

Riley: What? He certainly didn’t seem hateful yesterday. Unless we’re redefining terms based on your long, colorful history… Isa: No, not then. This is… after all that. And I don’t blame him if he does. I… [ frustrated ] I totally fucked shit up.

Now they’ve got Riley’s attention. She shoots a quick text to Nigel to let him know she’s running a few minutes late and then plops down on the end of the bed with Isa, insisting they tell her everything. She could tell something was different between them since Farkle got back, but what exactly has happened?

So Isa tells her. They wanted her advice, after all, and that requires airing all the dirty laundry. They give the truncated version -- how things ended senior year, their decision to still date Chai, but the lingering feelings they suddenly couldn’t ignore…

Riley: OMG. I knew it. I knew it! Isa: Um, what? Riley: Honey, please, it was so obvious. Dylan and I have been talking about this for like literally a year at this point. Isa: You talk about me when I’m not there? Riley: [ ignoring that ] So you like him. In spite of the Jordan disaster, he clearly had -- has -- a thing for you. What’s the problem?

For a brief, blissful period of time, seemingly nothing. First there was the Jordan issue, like she said, but once that obstacle was removed, and everything developed the way it did…

Isa: I mean, it was a relief to get it off my chest. I think it was for both of us. And we may have moved way too fast, but like, when do I do anything right or in the traditional pattern? And it’s not like the sex was like, bad, so -- Riley: I’m sorry, WHAT?

The offhand revelation is enough to send Riley jumping back to her feet again. This is a lot of information to be getting so nonchalantly. Isa tries to reel her back in, brushing aside the physical intimacy of it all to get back to the actual problem.

Isa: Sorry, forget I said that. It’s not relevant -- I mean, it is, but -- Riley: You two -- you actually -- how am I just hearing about this?! Isa: Dude, sorry, but things have been a little insane around here lately. Or did you forget that? It didn’t exactly seem like the best conversation starter given recent events. Like, “hey y’all, Lucas, so sorry for your loss -- but not really -- anyway I lost my virginity and it was a trip?”

Okay, fair point. Riley concedes that, raising her hands in surrender and calming down enough to settle back down onto the bed. But that still leaves the original question -- what happened? How do you go from having post-confessional, heat-of-the-moment sex to apparently earning the hatred of the person you purportedly like so much?

Riley: I’m just saying, I know both of you. I don’t see either of you getting that up-close and personal just for the laugh. I don’t see how you could flip on feelings like that so quickly.

Well, Isa isn’t so confused about that part… but this is the bit they aren’t proud to discuss. They awkwardly stumble through explaining what happened after the hookup, how rushed their departure was and how events inherently put a pause on whatever relationship sorting out they needed to do. And then Isa stupidly told him they loved him, while tipsy after the funeral…

Riley: Well, do you? Isa: [ a pointed beat ] That’s not the point. It doesn’t matter now, anyway, since I fucked it all up.

Which is how they got here. Isa could dump words on him when it was in their control, when he couldn’t speak back -- but not when it counted. When it counted, after they took advantage of his presence and comfort and familiarity yet again all throughout the wedding. They couldn’t pull it together long enough to tell him what he actually needed to hear.

Riley, sympathetic: Dora… Isa: So yeah, I screwed him over. Royally. Not intentionally, but I did, because that’s just what I fucking do I guess. [ with a sigh ] And it’s not like what I said was the truth, but I don’t know how to make that clear. Both of us are so damn awful at communicating, and even if I did get the opportunity, I don’t know if I could put it into words. I never know what to say when it actually matters.

Join the club, babe. But that’s the rub. They cracked under the pressure, couldn’t hack it, and they damaged what they care about so much in the process. Classic, at this point.

Riley: Listen, I get why you feel that way. And I think it’s really good that you’re trying to take responsibility for it, that you’re not trying to either brush it under the rug and pretend it’s not affecting you, or blame something other than yourself. That’s mature. Isa: It sucks. Riley: Yes, being mature often does. But while I admire that, I don’t think you should take this entire thing on your shoulders. You didn’t say the right thing in the moment, but you were struggling with a lot. You put so much effort into that day, to be there for Eric and the wedding, it’s not your fault that it affected you the way it did. You were shutting down -- you can’t control that. I think in more ideal circumstances, Farkle would understand that. He knows you as well as I do.

But that doesn’t change that it happened. Emotions got in the way; feelings got hurt. Feelings that were already bruised, and stretched so thin, it’s a gamble as to whether they can be healed.

That doesn’t mean Isa shouldn’t try. That’s what Riley ultimately counsels, insisting that if they’re this upset about how it happened, if those things they said last night aren’t the truth, then they need to tell Farkle that. Maybe he won’t want to hear it, sure. But better to give him the choice will all the context than let their wounds fester without ever addressing it.

Riley: I’m not saying it’s going to be easy. Given you two and your… personalities, I’m almost positive it won’t be. Isa: Thanks. Riley: But at least you’ll have tried. You’ll have said your piece and left nothing up to confusion. Better that than to let all the confusion and hurt smolder for who knows how long.

Isa is hesitant, but they know in their heart Riley is right. They thank her, then exhale, shaking their head.

Isa: What the hell am I gonna do when you’re three-thousand miles away?

Riley laughs. She initiates a soft hug, which Isa returns tightly.

Riley: I’ll still have a phone, you know. And you’re getting pretty decent at figuring things out without me. [ pulling back and giving them a smile ] You’re going to be fine.

Maybe so. That’s what growing up is all about, isn’t it… no matter how searing the growing pains.

EXT. PARIS PARK - DAY

Those same thoughts are on Jade’s mind as she ruminates on her own. She’s currently sitting on a bench in a pocket of a park in the middle of Paris, people-watching and trying to clear her head. She has her small sketchbook open, taking inspiration from the Parisian street fashion for reference later.

But she keeps getting distracted. No sketch ends up finished, because her mind keeps wandering back to the major developments in her own life. Nigel’s potential jump across the pond -- not too far from where they are right now, but leagues away from her new launchpad in Los Angeles. Stretching the cord that binds them even further, threatening to pull it to threads.

And doing all this without even thinking to tell her about it. Not until he basically decided he wanted to do it. That stings, regardless of how Jade feels about the actual news.

But even then… Jade raises her head and spots an older couple seated together on a bench across the park. They seem to be having a relatively somber conversation, the man crying while the woman provides him subtle comfort. Supporting him, even when it can’t be easy.

Jade can’t act like she’s a saint here. She did the same to Nigel, back last semester, when she didn’t tell him about the Pinhead opportunity. He handled that gracefully, and encouraged her to pursue it, despite the distance. And so far, they’ve done okay. They’ve made it work.

They’ve already made mistakes. They already hurt each other without meaning to, after their difficult first semester out of Adams. If pulling on their connecting threads really will rip them apart, then they weren’t stitched to last anyway. There’s no way to know ahead of time.

But Jade can decide how she wants to handle this. That much is in her control, right now.

Suddenly inspired, Jade pulls out her phone. She opens Whatsapp -- shoutout international communication tools -- and scrolls to find the right contact, calling them up. She isn’t sure they’ll answer; this isn’t someone she usually calls, let alone so unexpectedly. She doesn’t want to alarm them, considering where she’s calling from, but she doesn’t want to wait…

Lucky her, whoever it is picks up. She exhales a sigh of relief, getting to her feet.

Jade: Thanks for answering. Sorry I didn’t ask first. [ a beat ] Oh, no, no, everything is fine. Everyone is well. He’s fine. I just -- there’s something I think we should talk about.

No turning back… Jade takes a deep breath.

Jade: I assume he told you about the UK? Riley, pre-lap: Wow. London?

EXT. PARIS STREETS - DAY

Nigel is currently informing Riley about said potential change, giving her the full low-down as they stroll along the Seine together. They haven’t had much time to catch up with everything going on in the last month or so, so he wouldn’t have had much opportunity to tell her even if he was announcing it widely.

It doesn’t take much to convince her that this is a great idea. She’s clearly not opposed to switching it up, after all, and the logic just makes sense for Nigel. The UK has a different culture around theater, and it’s not like he’s having the time of his life at NYU. She’s sold.

The one slip-up, of course, is how he handled telling Jade. He knows he didn’t approach it right, dropping it on her so unceremoniously. He should’ve told her ages ago. But he didn’t, he messed up, and now he’s dreading that in making such a big choice that may be the right thing, he might have cast the other so right thing in his life into oblivion.

Riley empathizes -- with both of them -- but she isn’t that concerned. Nigel stares at her, baffled.

Nigel: Did you hear what I just said? How can you not be worried? Riley: Yes, I did. And I agree, you did not handle that well. If I were Jade, I’d also want more warning. Or just to feel included in the process, no matter how little influence I actually had. [ with a shrug ] You made a mistake. Thing is, Nige, I don’t know if you noticed this but like… all of us have made mistakes. Including Jade. Nigel: I guess… Riley: We’re basically in the era of our lives where we’re supposed to make mistakes! And those mistakes, and missteps, and big changes are, ideally, going to get us closer to wherever it is we’re actually meant to be. I mean, look at your friends. Zay, Yindra. Isa and Farkle are full of missteps; Maya is the queen of putting her foot in her mouth. Nigel: I’m not sure she sees that as a mistake. Riley: The point is, we’re all gonna flub it sometimes. You, me, all of us. And unfortunately, it’s going to hurt people -- I hate that part the most, believe me -- but it is. That’s life. What matters is what we do next, and that we just keep trying to do the best we can.

Which, with this decision, is exactly what Nigel is trying to do. He’ll have to work things out with Jade, yes. And the transition, when he goes to the UK, won’t be easy-peasy.

Nigel: If I go. Riley: When you go. They’ll accept you. I know it -- and trust me, I just know about these sort of things.

They’d be insane not to. All this to say, this time of their lives is all about shaking things up, making mistakes, stumbling and stretching towards whatever the future is supposed to be. Riley can forgive him his missteps, and she’s pretty confident Jade can too.

Even if she’s wrong, her comforting words do their job. Nigel exhales a sigh, feeling a bit less frazzled. He gives her a light smile.

Nigel: Riley Matthews, I don’t know what we’d do without you.

She beams, looping her arm through his as they continue their afternoon stroll.

As the soundscape of flights taking off and landing consumes the gentle Parisian day…

Pilot, pre-lap: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to New York.

INT. CHEY CAR - DAY

Welcome back, indeed. The Parisian detour has ended, and now, the real world with all of its pressing decisions awaits.

Having safely arrived back in New York, ERNESTO CHEY picks up Nigel and Yindra. Once they’ve made it into the car, Nigel in the passenger seat and Yindra in back, Ernesto confirms they’re not waiting for anyone else.

Ernesto: No Jade? I’m happy to give her a ride. Nigel: Uh, nope. No, she… found her own way.

He isn’t going to offer more than that right now. As the car gets moving, Yindra receives an incoming text.

It’s from Aleena. She opens it immediately.

“did you hear from Jupiter?”

Honestly, Yindra is surprised she’s reaching out to her… and kind of happy to see it. She isn’t sure they’re supposed to be talking like this, giving each other any intel, but she isn’t going to pass up the chance.

“yep”

She hesitates, then shows her card.

“they offered me a spot. did you?”

The wait to get a response is excruciating, even though it’s only about a minute. Yindra doesn’t close her phone so she won’t miss it.

“I got an offer too”

That sends relief through Yindra, though she isn’t exactly sure why. Maybe just knowing that the “name” thing wasn’t a deal-breaker for either of them, or that someone else remotely sane is a potential member?

At least, they were offered membership. If she herself is any indication, that doesn’t mean any guarantees. So she braves asking the question:

“sick, congrats! are you gonna accept?”

Aleena starts to reply, her bubble popping up… then it goes away. She doesn’t answer. Maybe she doesn’t want to give Yindra any more insight than she already has.

Or maybe, Yindra figures, she hasn’t made the call just yet either. But the clock keeps ticking…

INT. NEW YORK HOTEL - DAY

And a call bell dings, transitioning us into the hubbub of an upscale Manhattan hotel. Isa is meeting up with Zachary and Ruby in the lobby, intending to give them an abridged tour of their neck of the woods while they’re laid over between flights.

Ruby: I’m so looking forward to this, genuinely. Zachary has a bit of history in New York too -- Zachary: Everyone has their Law & Order era at the start. Ruby: And all your plays and things. So I can’t wait to hear both of your alls takes on the different places. What are we going to see first?

They start to head out of the revolving doors, Isa hanging back to let them exit first. In the brief pause they get, they quickly check their phone. It’s already open on their message thread with Farkle.

It’s dead. Aside from the messages they have clearly sent -- more than one -- in the past forty-eight hours begging for the chance to talk, it’s radio silent. In fact, their texts don’t even seem to be going through: it won’t budge from “sent” to “delivered,” let alone “read.”

Disappointing, but they have to put it aside for now. Family calls. Isa stuffs their phone in their pocket and pushes through the revolving door.

INT. MINKUS HOME - DAY

Farkle is dutifully keeping himself preoccupied, currently organizing the tupperwares of food his parents had the personal chef cook to pack for his return trip to LA. Since he had to change plans so suddenly, he’ll be taking the company jet instead, which means more flexibility about what he can take on board.

URI MINKUS pokes his head around the corner of the hallway, finding Farkle in the kitchen. He awkwardly saunters in with his hands in his pockets.

Uri: What’s all that? Farkle: Meal prep. Now that I’m going back to LA, I think mom is convinced I’m going to starve. As if I didn’t already survive a year of school on my own. Uri: You’re going back already? I thought you weren’t leaving until this weekend.

Or ever… when Farkle first came back, Uri kind of got the impression he was keen to hang around for a while. Not that he cares, or anything… Farkle shrugs.

Farkle: Had to push my flight up.

He doesn’t explain why. Uri doesn’t seem all that pleased about that, but he doesn’t question it further. Instead, he focuses on a more pressing issue.

Uri: So, uh, your boyfriend. The Nelson dude. Farkle: Jordan? Uri: Yeah, the Nelson dude. You like -- it’s over, right? You broke up for real?

Not exactly his favorite topic at the moment, but Farkle sighs and gives him a nod anyway.

Farkle: Yes. We’re done. Uri: Oh. Okay. Cool. Farkle: I know, you can say I told you so. You’re so very smart and superior. Uri: That wasn’t why I asked. Just… he’s like, shitty. He didn’t treat you the way you deserve.

Despite his awkward, adolescent boy delivery, Uri is being genuine. The sincerity surprises Farkle, softening him just enough to open up a larger conversation.

Farkle: Oh, no? Tell me, what exactly do I deserve? It’s a fair question, considering this is coming from one of two people who dedicated themselves to calling me “germ” for about half my life. Uri: That’s different. We’re your siblings. It’s our job to humble you… germ.

Sure. Farkle rolls his eyes. Anyway… Uri clears his throat, shrugging his gangly shoulders.

Uri: I mean, I’m not acting like I’m an expert. But I do have a bit of experience with the opposite sex in such matters as these. Farkle, amused: That so? Uri: Yeah… it’s not easy. Like, man, girlfriends are… a lot. [ a beat ] But I think at the bare minimum, it should be obvious that you like, like each other. For who you are. Maybe that’s not perfect, or whatever, and you’re gonna make a lot of mistakes. But if you can fall back on the idea that hey, at least you like me because I’m me, then… you know. That’s chill.

Profound. But honestly, pretty spot on. Jordan and Farkle were never going to work, because Jordan didn’t really like Farkle. He liked the concept of him, a muse he could mold, but that didn’t extend to the real thing. It didn’t apply to the artist behind the canvas.

A good relationship, real love, endures because and in spite of the fact that both people are still chipping away at their own self-sculptures, discovering who they’re meant to be underneath the marble. And they like each other regardless, whether they’re looking at the final, chiseled product or the hunk of rock that has just barely begun to take shape.

In any case, Uri thinks Farkle at least deserves that much.

Uri: Maya, she loves you that way. Same with your friend Isa. That’s what I’m talking about -- that’s what I think you deserve.

That’s what Farkle thought, too… only that didn’t turn out so well either. That reality is exactly what he’s running from -- because if someone can love him that much, despite his rocky edges, and it can still fall apart in spectacular fashion, then what? What does that mean for him?

Even so, the sentiment is there. Farkle smiles, thanking Uri for the advice. He brushes it off, characteristically awkward, but manages to return the smile.

EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING - HALLWAY - DAY

Josh walks Maya back to her apartment, somehow having been wrangled into carrying one of her bags as well. He comments on it as they arrive at the doorstep of her apartment.

Josh: Well, career or not, you sure have the diva instincts down pat.

Always has, babe. Maya flashes a grin… then takes that convenient transition to shift topics. Before she goes back inside, and her mother can hear, she wants to discuss the career thing. After a breath:

Maya: I do think I want to do it. Give it one last shot. Josh: Okay -- okay! Fuck yeah. Maya: This has been my thing my entire life, and being this close… I don’t want to let it go. I don’t want this to be the way I go out. If I’m fading to obscurity, it’s going to be a bang. Not a sizzle.

That sounds more true to Maya Hart. Josh nods along, in total agreement.

Maya: But. If we’re going to do this, we have to do it right. This swan song -- Josh: It’s not gonna be a swan song. This is not the end. Bet. Maya: Don’t say bet. You sound like Nate Martinez. Josh: Who? Maya: Long story. Just stick to your millennial brand of embarrassing vernacular. [ anyway ] The point is, this song… it has to be good, Josh. Not just good -- it has to be the fucking best. If this is going to be the last chance you and I have to stay above water… then we have to give it absolutely everything we’ve got.

She won’t settle for anything less. And beyond that, she thinks, it has to say something. It has to speak to something real.

Maya: Justin and Melissa never let me do that. Not that I was necessarily pushing it either, but… “Haute Stuff” was so lifeless, all about sheen. If we’re going to reach people, I feel like it really needs to be about something. That there has to be more underneath it than just nice vocals and my pretty face. Josh: I’m down with that. I know you’ve got the range. What exactly does that mean, though? What are you thinking?

That is the hard part. She doesn’t know just yet. She needs to dig back into her songwriting notebook, think about what she really wants to work through. But she’ll get working on it -- and fast.

Josh: Copy that. I’ll take a look through your demos and stuff too, see if anything jumps out, but if you want to write something new, by all means. Maya: I’ll try my damnedest. Josh: We’ll land on the right thing. We can do this. Maya: You really are darn optimistic. It’s gotta be the Matthews in you. Josh: More like I don’t think I could survive walking around convinced of the alternative.

Music is his life -- and hers too, he knows. He doesn’t want to imagine the world where they truly flop beyond repair.

Here’s hoping. Maya sighs and unlocks the apartment door, stepping inside.

INT. HART APARTMENT - DAY

KATY HART is in the kitchen when they walk through the door, cheerfully greeting her daughter. She comes to give Maya a hug once her bags are dropped, then turns her attention to Josh.

Maya: You remember Josh. The producer from L.A. Katy: The one who produced “LolliPop!” Yes?

Yes, that’s right… and proof that Maya did credit him that way before that whole debacle went down. Particularly to the people who matter. Josh smiles, extending a hand to shake hers.

Josh: Nice to see you again. Your daughter, despite her antics, is a real talent.

Maya rolls her eyes, but Katy seems to appreciate the cheek. Makes him seem more authentic -- and like he actually understands Maya.

Katy: You wouldn’t be the first to say so. Maya: A diva is perpetually misunderstood. Katy: Thanks for helping her back from the airport. My shift just ran a tad later than I could manage… Josh: Oh, no worries at all. Happy to help. It’s good practice for us, I think, being stuck with one another.

Because, God willing, they may be setting themselves up for a lot of that in the years to come… Josh politely claims he best be off.

Once he’s gone, Katy turns to Maya, raising her eyebrows in intrigue.

Katy: He’s nice. Kind of cute, too… Maya: Josh? Don’t make me laugh.

That earns one from Katy. Her daughter truly is impossible to please on that front… but at least she knows her own heart. And romance aside, he seems like a good person to rely on. Someone she can trust to have in her corner out there.

That, Maya seems to agree on, if the way her expression softens is any indication.

Maya: He’s… something. That’s for sure.

EXT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Another day begins. Now back in their typical routine, Riley walks with Lucas to the diner for his morning shift. Before he disappears into the fray, she asks him to wait a minute, taking his hand and pausing outside the diner.

Lucas: … everything okay? Riley: No, yeah. Yes, everything is great. I was just thinking… I know you have a lot on your plate. Super busy week and everything. And I’ve got some stuff to focus on this week too. Lucas: Yeah. Riley: So maybe we could plan to get together at my place this weekend? Dedicate some time for just us two. There’s something I want to talk about, with your move coming up, and I want to make sure we have enough time to really discuss it.

Oh, Lucas knows exactly what she’s talking about -- and it makes that prickle in his shoulder blades flare up again. Now he has until this weekend to figure out how he wants to walk into that conversation, because he’ll only get one chance to make the right call.

But Riley is looking at him right now, cute brown eyes bright and hopeful and reflecting the morning sun, so he isn’t going to say no. He can do this -- he can do it for her.

Lucas: Okay. Sure. This weekend.

Riley beams, rewarding him with a kiss. She squeezes his hand and then lets him go, watching him contently as he retreats into the diner. Unlike Lucas, she knows exactly how she wants to walk into this conversation come Saturday.

She knows, with pristine certainty, how she wants to walk into the rest of her life.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “I’ve Loved You For So Long” as performed by The Aces || Performed by Riley Matthews

The percussive opening tosses us right into the energetic, light-hearted performance, offering a refreshing change of pace from the heftier numbers we’ve had so far this episode. Riley is basically walking on sunshine as she launches into the opening verse, dancing her way through the city and singing so proudly about how she feels. Emotive in the best way; confident in her emotions in a way she’s always managed better than her peers.

And even though waltzing through Manhattan feels a bit like a goodbye, since she won’t be around much longer, it doesn’t feel somber at all. Far from it; the duet with the city is bright, appreciative, not a tad regretful. She will always love this place, because it gave her so much, but she’s ready to move on from it too. She got the story she was meant to get here -- now, it’s time to see what other worlds hold for her next.

The only key that matters to her is who she’s doing it with.

You're taking me back, babe, to where it all started Wearing your hair up in your New York apartment, I swear I've loved you for so long; I'd do it again

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

And taking us back to where it all started is exactly what Riley does throughout the rest of the number, popping in and out of different vignettes familiar to the Riley and Lucas history. Spinning through the grass of Central Park; stopping by the animal shelter and wiggling a finger at the kittens playing in the window. Belting a triumphant line on the steps of Adams, an homage to the place that lit the spark.

EXT. CHUBBIES - DAY

By the end, Riley ends up back where she began, standing outside the doors of the diner. She glances through the windows to catch one more glance of Lucas in his Chubbies uniform -- another small little treasure of their lore -- before breaking into a grin.

Then she spins on her heel and heads down the sidewalk, an undeniable spring in her step.

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AMBITION “Coup De Foudre” [ 4.13 ]♮Part 2

INT. BLUE’S APARTMENT - DAY

Taking their own lore tour, Isa and the MacNamaras make their next stop on the Isa Essentials expedition. They drop by BLUE NGUYEN’s for a late lunch. They look just as trendy and laid back as the last time we saw them, and only slightly frazzled by the prospect of hosting one of the world’s biggest film stars for an afternoon tea.

BEATRIX TORRES and JERICHO TORRES are also in attendance, a fair representation of the company Isa has kept since they finally left the foster system. Ruby jumps right into socializing and goes to introduce herself, while Isa and Zachary hang back a moment in the entryway to take it all in.

Isa: Family reunion, part 3?

Whatever they want to share of their world, Zachary will take it. He gives them a gentle smile.

INT. CHARLIE’S APARTMENT - DAY

Charlie and Zay are back at the former’s apartment, crashed on the couch together. Even though Zay has only actually been there a few times, he seems to be quickly making himself at home, not at all out of place in the space.

And even though they’re being somewhat vague about their relationship status to everyone else at the moment, they once again are having no issue presenting like they’re reattached at the hip. Relative to the past, they’re quite cozy together on the couch, sitting far closer than they need to be given they have the whole thing to themselves. They could easily spread out with room to spare, but instead they’re both scrunched over on one side, shoulders and elbows and knees touching as if it’s so casual.

Right now, they’re flipping through brochures, looking at the courses the college Charlie has chosen -- but not yet revealed to the rest of us -- are offering. Classically, Zay seems unimpressed.

Charlie: Come on. “Marriage and Morals Among the Victorians?” “The Art of the Diary?” [ humming excitedly ] “The Philosophical Life?” You can’t tell me those don’t sound interesting. Zay: Charlie. Charlie. Look at me. Look deep into my eyes. [ taking his face ] It does not sound interesting.

Oh, wah wah. Zay is just anti-academia. Charlie shrugs him off, making a face, but he knows he’s only teasing him. Honestly, it’s cute to see him so enthused about it, to get to watch him nerd out unapologetically again. It’s a far cry from how he seemed about Yale.

Zay raises his eyebrows when Charlie flips the page in the brochure, displaying the list of language courses. He points out Charlie could probably test out of that requirement given his French experience now -- unless he’s determined to take twenty credits a semester or whatever. Then he points towards another one beneath it on the list.

Zay: Though I suppose it might be wiser to brush up on your Italian. You know, in case they determine you guilty of gay crimes against humanity and ship you back to serve your sentence. Charlie: Whatever I was doing over there, I promise you, it wouldn’t be considered criminal. [ off his slightly jealous expression, with a grin ] Besides, I’ll have you know my Italian is decent. Zay: Oh, yeah? Prove it. Say something right now. Charlie: [ with a scoff ] I don’t have to prove it… Zay: Mm… that kind of just sounds like you don’t want to prove otherwise. And that I’m right.

God, he really is so cheeky… and a bit transparent. As if he just doesn’t want to hear him speak a foreign language again… so Charlie obliges, rolling his eyes just for the impression that he’s inconveniencing him.

Charlie: [ in Italian ] Isaiah, you are very stubborn… and quite wondrous. Zay: Okay… okay… you’re insulting me, aren’t you?

Maaaybe… just a little of everything. Charlie shrugs coyly, earning a nudge from Zay, who isn’t satisfied. That was just one sentence! Anyone can learn one sentence. Say something else.

Charlie: You are so demanding. What am I to you, Duolingo? Zay: No way -- that owl has way more rizz than you.

Um, hello?! Charlie scoffs out a laugh, lightly shoving him back. They fall into a playful brief back-and-forth, naturally ending up pressed closer together in the process, until Charlie finally relents and offers him one more treat through the chuckles.

Charlie: Ti amo! Ti amo molto, Zay, capisce?

Yes, Zay can translate that even with his limited knowledge of the language. And it hits exactly as intended, still knocking the wind out of him. That comment about his rizz was far too premature.

But Charlie did meet his request, so all right, he’ll reward him. He closes the small gap between them and gives him a kiss. It lingers, their lips brushing again as soon as they pull apart.

Zay: I mean, you could’ve just Googled that, but…

This guy. Honestly. Charlie shakes his head, endeared grin unstoppable, before stealing another kiss.

Zay: Let’s hear it again though. Just for thoroughness.

So transparent… but Charlie is happy to deliver. He’s got a lot of time to make up for.

Charlie: Ti amo, Zay. Zay: Yeah? Charlie: Mhm… [ another soft kiss ] Ti penso ogni giorno. Sempre. Amore mio. [ and another ] Ti amerò sempre.

Okay, Zay definitely can’t translate all of that, but he doesn’t need to. Charlie’s delivery gets the message across regardless, gentle and tender and just barely above a whisper. Palpable in its soft sincerity.

I think of you every day. All the time. My love. I will always love you.

If Zay didn’t want to get got, stumbling into another unbeatable, inescapable moment with Charlie Gardner, then he shouldn’t have fucked around. Now he’s found out… and, truth be told, he isn’t mad about it.

Zay: Okay, fuck me, then.

Charlie breaks into another laugh, then gladly accepts another kiss. They let this one linger too, blending naturally and effortlessly into another one… then another, just a tad more carried away…

Until they’re interrupted, keys jingling briefly in the lock before the apartment door swings open. They jump as Riley steps into the room, the three of them staring at each other with wide eyes for the briefest of moments before Riley immediately swoops into apologies.

Riley: OMG. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m interrupting, aren’t I? Sorry, sorry --

Based on the look on Zay’s face, yes, she is definitely interrupting -- but he can’t stay mad at Riley. He joins Charlie in assuring her that the intrusion is fine. She assures them in return that she won’t be long (so they can get back to whatever they were, um, doing… ha ha), she just wanted to stop by and pick some things up for Lucas.

Riley: We’re trying to consolidate all his things in one place before the big move -- I know there’s still a ton of time, but it’s a slow process. He keeps forgetting about this stuff that Grace is asking about, so I told him I’d stop by after class to grab it.

A lot on his mind making him distracted. This conversation rings a bell for Charlie, who recalls Lucas mentioning something similar. He climbs to his feet and claims he’ll go grab the box for her, disappearing back into Lucas’s room.

While they’re briefly alone, Riley settles onto the opposite end of the couch and turns her curious eyes on Zay. She glances over her shoulder to confirm Charlie is still searching, then drops her voice to a conspiratorial murmur.

Riley: Based on whatever I just walked in on, things seem pretty good between you two. Zay: Yeah. Thanks for that, by the way. Riley: So does that mean -- I mean, are you two…?

It almost feels dangerous to verbalize it, like it might shatter if they do. Are they actually, finally, back together? Could we get some official confirmation here? She can’t help it -- she’s nosy.

Much like before, despite Riley’s undeniable charm, Zay holds his ground. He gives her the same story he gave Maya, that they’re not confirming anything until they’ve wrapped up the loose ends in their current plans and made certain their choices will work out how they want. So for now, no additional clarity, but rest assured…

Zay: You’re right, things are good. [ glancing in the direction he left ] We’re working it out.

Together, this time. With communication, clarity, and no room for confusion. That makes all the difference.

Riley is clearly dying to know all the details, but she doesn’t push. She can respect their desire for privacy, and mostly, she just seems relieved they’re in a good place. It’s been a long, long three years of being in the middle of their tragedy, watching it all unfold and helpless to do anything about it.

Thankfully, her fix-it instincts are no longer needed here -- doubly good, considering she may not be here much longer. She jumps to her feet again when Charlie reemerges with the shoebox from Lucas’s room, handing it off to her with a smile. She thanks him, slipping her bag off her shoulder to tuck it safely away.

While she has both of them, she asks if they’re free over the next couple of days. She wants to go shopping for a few things before the potential major changes this summer, and she thought it would be a fun way for them to spend some quality time as a trio. Since they’ve basically never gotten to do that before, given past circumstances, and because she may not have many opportunities to do so soon if all goes to plan.

Yeah, her big plans… it’s clear based on how she speaks about it around them that she’s brought Charlie up to speed, too, so they’re in the loop. Zay still looks hesitant about the whole thing, but wisely chooses not to comment; Charlie seems less concerned, happily agreeing for both of them that they should be free.

Before Riley goes, she takes a second to check in with Charlie too, softening her voice as she broaches the topic. Not wanting to intrude any further, but they haven’t gotten much of a chance to talk…

Riley: Are you doing okay? You know, with the… with your family?

Charlie seems surprised she’s asking. He offers an unbothered smile, shrugging.

Charlie: Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Riley: Are you sure? I know this has to be hard, so -- Charlie: No, for sure, but I’m all good. Got other stuff to be focused on right now, anyway. So.

He brightens his smile, convincing as ever. Riley can only take him at his word -- she doesn’t exactly have time to wear him down otherwise.

So she says goodbye for now, giving him a quick hug and blowing Zay a kiss as she promises she’ll see them later this week. Charlie follows her to the door, seeing her out, before flopping back down to rejoin Zay on the couch. He brings an arm up to drape behind Zay on the couch, a detail Zay notices and is not at all opposed to. Kind of boyfriend behavior…

But his mind is caught on moments earlier. Riley brought it up so he didn’t have to, but admittedly, he’d been waiting for the right time to ask.

Zay: Did you mean what you said? Charlie: Hm? Zay: When Riley asked about your fam. Specifically, Helleanor. Charlie: Oh. Well, yeah. Zay, skeptical: Really? [ a beat ] I’m not trying to be pushy. I just know how… if you want to talk about it, then you know you can always --

In short, he thinks his unbothered, chill persona might be bullshit. Given all the history and context, he has very good reason to think so. But Charlie is apparently committed to it, truth or not, because he gives Zay the same shrug and manages a smile.

Charlie: No, yeah, I meant it. I’m good. Zay: … really. Charlie: I mean, is it how I wanted things to go? No. But I can’t change it. That’s not something I can control. No sense being inconsolable about it.

That’s mature, and neat, and everything… but it still doesn’t sound quite right. It kind of feels like they’re sixteen again, and Charlie is doing that thing where he’s so totally okay with everything it almost doesn’t feel human.

And just like then, Zay sees right through it. He can sense the plastic covering Charlie has plastered over this vulnerability, pretending it’s all fine, but he isn’t sure how to puncture it without making a big mess. One he doesn’t want to make, given how they’re finally in that place where things are pretty good.

Charlie basically echoes as much, giving him a smile that feels markedly more genuine.

Charlie: Besides, like I said, I have a lot of other stuff to be focusing on. [ gazing at him ] There’s a lot of good in my life right now.

That, at least, is true enough. Zay returns the smile, letting Charlie lean close and pull him into another kiss… though that uncertainty is still itching at the back of his mind.

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY

To wrap up the afternoon, Isa takes Zachary and Ruby to Adams. It feels a bit surreal to walk through the doors again, to take in the vast, empty entryway that’s quiet save for JANITOR HARLEY KEINER allowing them inside.

Zachary: It’s nice of you to let us stop by. Harley: Through express permission of the principal himself only. It pays to be well-connected. Isa: I’m well aware, though not by choice. Harley: But you’re right. It’s not as though Isa would’ve finagled their way in here regardless of whether I said yes, likely with help from one of their many former classmates. These kids never do dastardly things like that. [ clasping his hands together ] Ain’t that right, De La Cruz? Isa: Completely. One-hundred percent. No one gets into this school that isn’t supposed to.

Uh-huh. Harley narrows his eyes slightly, then backs off, stating it was a pleasure to meet them all. Especially Zachary -- he’s a big fan.

Zachary: Oh, well. Thank you. Ruby: Most everybody is. You love the Hastings films, I’m guessing? Harley: Oh, no. I mean, don’t get me wrong, they’re good fun. But I’m all about the deep cuts. Like Hard Knock Flight, when you played that down-on-his-luck janitor who had to thwart the assassins? [ touching his chest ] I deeply felt that one. Thank you for your work.

Right… well, if that’s all, Harley will leave them to it. As he does, Isa gets sucked back into looking around the atrium. It’s not like it’s been ages since they’ve been here, with Eric as principal, but the scary part is how every time, it starts to feel further away. This reminder of how even as it remains unchanged, the clock is ticking, moving them further and further apart from this time and this place.

To Ruby and Zachary, though, it’s all brand new, and that eases the homesickness somewhat. Ruby is more than excited as she takes it all in, pointing out details Isa has mentioned like the staircase and the tall ceilings. She grows even more keen when she sees the display with all the photographs from past years and shows, a few from Beauty & The Beast still managing to hold their place.

Ruby: Look at your friends… oh, this is lovely. They all look so great. Zachary: You weren’t in this one? Isa: Nah. I decided to go back to my techie roots this time around. And it was better that way -- all my friends got to do their thing, get their starring moment, and I got to build a death contraption with my best friend. Kind of memories you just can’t substitute.

Zachary raises his eyebrows at “death trap,” but doesn’t get the chance to ask. Ruby finds the photograph of the entire cast and crew up by the top left -- which includes the techies -- and points it out.

Ruby: I’m sorry, but this is just too lovely. Look at you all! You’re going to have to show me all your pictures next time you’re out to visit and tell me all the stories.

Honestly, that sounds nice. Isa smiles.

Isa: I’ll put out a call to get an accurate roll of photos, sure. Zachary: That’ll be neat. I bet the boys will like it too. Ruby: Oh, and we should certainly invite Farkle over too. You’re both such good storytellers, and I’m sure his performer perspective would be a good counterbalance to whatever perspective you give us. Balance the biases, I think.

It’s a cute idea… but it just unwittingly tears open that cut in Isa’s chest again. They manage not to show it, keeping their smile intact, but it falters just enough to signal that the reminder digs deep.

And who knows how much longer they might have to even remotely try to fix it…

INT. MINKUS HOME - DAY

The next day, the door to the Minkus penthouse opens, Zay standing on the other side. He’s holding a shopping bag, and based on Farkle’s expression, he wasn’t expecting to see him.

Farkle: Hey? Zay: Hey. You gonna invite me in, or? Farkle: Oh, yeah. Sure.

He steps back, allowing him to step inside. Definitely not opposed to the surprise pop-in, but not at all prepared for it. His mind is on keeping his emotions in check, and getting ready for LA, and nowhere near base levels of cool to hang out with Zay -- if he had any at all to begin with.

Farkle: Uh, what are you doing here? Zay: Do you not read your texts? I mentioned I was gonna stop by while I was in the neighborhood. Jada’s only a couple stations away, so -- Farkle: Oh, uh, no. I didn’t see that. I haven’t been looking at my phone much lately.

Try at all. He’s basically actively avoiding it. Unhelpful, clearly, as Zay rolls his eyes.

Zay: Richest bitch in Manhattan, and you don’t even look at your brand new iPhone. Farkle: Actually, I have an Android. Zay: Even worse. Farkle: That’s not -- anyway. [ eyeing the bag ] Did you go shopping, or? Zay: No. This is why I’m here. Maya said you left these in your frantic dipping from France, and for some ungodly reason, she couldn’t just give them to you herself. Something about “I have career matters to attend to, Zayby,” something something blah blah blah.

So here they are. Zay hands over the bag, making it crystal clear neither of them should get used to him playing errand boy. Farkle thanks him, peeking into the bag to look at the contents and confirming they’re as Maya described.

Once that’s out of the way, it’s back to just the two of them standing around not sure what to say. Because every conversation they’ve had lately has been heated, or heavy, or grappling with these larger, grander young adult emotions that they aren’t sure how to handle just yet. That they aren’t sure how they keep having to handle together, why they seem drawn to one another’s melodrama like magnets.

Yet, again, here they are. Zay clears his throat.

Zay: So, you going back to LA? Farkle: Uh, yeah. I’m leaving tomorrow. Zay: Right. Well, good luck with all that. Farkle: Thanks. And you? Did you decide about Turner, or the tour? Zay: I did. Farkle: … and do I get to know what that is? Zay: Once the relevant parties know, then everyone else will get to know. That’s the way I’m playing it. Sorry. No advanced previews for the people. Farkle: Boy, you love the drama of suspense. [ off his pithy shrug ] I’m assuming Charlie got to know, though. Zay: He ain’t people.

Fair enough. Farkle doesn’t even bother to question it -- he knows the history, way more than Zay thinks he does, and even if he didn’t, it wouldn’t seem confusing to him. Charlie’s got that way about him, for one, but also it’s always been clear the two of them have something special. Friendship or more. There’s just something different about them.

That’s what Farkle thinks he wants -- what he’s been searching for this whole time. He wants that sort of feeling where it goes without saying that you’ll share everything; that you’re inherently, automatically set apart from the rest.

Clearly, that’s not in his cards. So he swallows his jealousy and moves on.

Anyway, Zay commends Farkle for heading back to LA. Given all the history there now, he can imagine it feels like a mixed bag. Farkle nods, compelled to make a confession.

Farkle: I thought about moving back here, actually. Zay: Oh. Wow. [ a beat ] Why? Farkle: That chilling a possibility? Zay: No. It just -- you know, shitty ex aside, it seems like you’ve got good things going out there. I suppose you’ll hear from that agent soon, and you already made a splash in the theater scene at USC in your freshman year. That’s not something to spit on. Farkle: Yeah… yeah, that’s true. Zay: So it’s not like I don’t think you could do the same here, eventually, but when the dominos seem to have aligned so well out there… Farkle: That’s true. You’re right. I’m not saying you aren’t. I guess… just, with the other stuff…

The Jordan of it all, and the bits Zay doesn’t know. The potential of Isa; the warm familiarity of this town and its colorful cast of characters.

Farkle: Lame, maybe, but I kind of thought being back here with the cohort would be the same as before. More… stable. I don’t know.

Zay gets it. Honestly, he does. Not just because he’s human, and the allure of going back to what you know is one of the oldest, most base desires in the book, but because he knows the impact a toxic relationship can have. How it leaves you hollow, sends you searching for ways to bring back that feeling of purpose and joy again. He may not have all the context to Farkle’s current headspace, but he has that much.

Zay: Hey, I mean, I don’t think you’re making the wrong decision. Going back. Farkle: No? Zay: Nah. For one, yeah, the idea of getting to spiritually go back to Adams is nice, but it’s not that simple. I don’t know who you’re counting in your “cohort,” but most of us aren’t even going to be here in the coming weeks, months, etc. Lucas is dipping -- and Riley is going with him, apparently. Farkle: Right… Zay: Nigel might be jumping across the pond if he can hack it. Yindra and Jade and Maya -- I assume -- are going back to the west coast. Farke: And you’ll be…? Zay: Nice try. My point is, I get where you’re coming from. Really, I do. But it’s never gonna be that again. Triple A… it was good, when we had it. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. But it’s done now. We’ve gotta get used to working with… whatever version of our cohort we’ve got now. It wouldn’t be as easy as just hopping a flight back home.

That’s the trick about homesickness. Usually, it’s nostalgia in disguise, and unlike a house, you can’t walk back through the doors of the past. You can hold onto it, cherish the memories, try to nurture what you took with you into the present, but that’s all you can do. You can’t go back, whether you want to or not.

And that feels even more potent when you’re healing from something like Jordan. Zay understands that -- he understands better than Farkle can probably imagine.

Zay: I know how shitty it feels to have the sense that you wasted an entire year of your life. That you lost that time to someone who didn’t deserve it. It sucks. But you didn’t waste that time. And even if you did, so what? You’ve got so much more time ahead to make up for it. Dude, we’re literally at the start of everything. Just because you flubbed your first steps doesn’t mean you’re down for good.

He’s a prime example. He fucked up his start at Adams, and he turned out okay. He has amazing friends. They ended up with Riley. He had the chance to meet the love of his life, and then had the chance to find him again when things fell apart the first time. Life is just a series of starts, over and over again, and the only thing that changes that reality is when you choose not to get back up.

Zay: In short, saccharine aside, you’ll be fine, man. I believe in you.

Somehow, that means everything. It wasn’t easy to earn Zay’s friendship -- and boy, did Farkle flub it too many times to count -- but they’re here now. Somehow stuck together, melodramatic magnets… and somehow, that’s not the worst thing in the world. In fact, Zay might even say he’s glad about it.

Farkle pushes his luck, as per usual, stepping forward to pull Zay into a hug. Zay is startled at first, not used to such blatant affection between them, but after a moment he returns it.

Farkle: Thank you. For believing in me. Zay: You’re welcome. [ a beat ] Don’t make me regret it.

Farkle laughs, sniffling to keep the tears at bay. But he holds on as long as Zay will let him, soaking up his support while it’s tangible in his arms.

He knows when the time comes to head back across the country, he’s going to need it.

INT. NYU - ADVISOR’S OFFICE - DAY

Nigel is wrapping up a meeting with his guidance counselor. He’s finally told them about his intentions to transfer, and thankfully, the counselor is more than willing to help. They’ve outlined all of the steps he’ll need to take in the next semester to hopefully achieve a successful spring change, should all go well, and offered resources for him to dig into during the summer to prepare.

Nigel smiles, offering sincere thanks.

EXT. NYU - CAMPUS - DAY

Nigel emerges from the admissions building, feeling a little lighter. It’s not a salve for everything -- his puzzles and problems to solve are still numerous -- but it’s a start. He’s got the tools now to go for his ambitions, so long as he can rally the courage to follow through.

More than that, he actually stood up and did it. He went and got what he needed, wasn’t afraid to ask for it. Didn’t wait for the perfect moment, or the least amount of friction; didn’t hold himself back until his girlfriend gave him permission or his parents pushed him out the door. He didn’t even need his diva-like friends to nudge him -- or rather, shove him, typically -- into following his own dreams. This time, he did it for himself.

Nigel cares about the unknowns still at play, but he cares about his future too. After such a difficult year, he cares, and that feels like the greatest triumph there is.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Golden” as performed by Hippo Campus || Performed by Nigel Chey

Nigel’s solo is pensive, thoughtful, a calm contrast to much of the other performances going on this episode. It’s still in his style, alternative and a little bit unpolished, but there’s a peace to it that he hasn’t really gotten to experience yet.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

As he traverses through the city, making his way back home, it feels like he’s seeing the city in a new light -- less constricting, not looming over him and threatening to topple.

He’s seeing himself differently, too. That’s a recurrent element to the rendition, as he catches his reflection in fountains and glossy shop windows. It doesn’t feel so difficult to look at himself anymore -- it’s starting to feel like he’s actually looking at himself again, whoever that may end up being. For once, the prospect of meeting the new him doesn’t feel so dreadful.

Why is it I want to change for you? Why is it I want to see this through?

More tellingly, although the lyrics to the song could easily be interpreted as sent towards a lover, when Nigel sings it this time, it doesn’t read that way. This isn’t a serenade to Jade, or some theoretical outsider looking in.

When Nigel sings about wanting to see things through, wanting to stop sleepwalking through life with hollowed out feelings, he’s dedicating it to himself.

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Riley is grabbing a late afternoon lunch with Josh before he heads back to Los Angeles, the two of them occupying the back corner booth of the diner. With that privacy, and given Lucas isn’t working a shift, Riley feels confident enough to tell Josh about her grand plans to move to California. She might be closer to her uncle before too long.

Josh doesn’t have the same panicked reaction as Farkle, but he’s not as unwaveringly supportive as Eric. Not that he doesn’t trust her instincts -- if she thinks this is what she wants, then okay, he’ll back her -- but it’s the rest of the world he doesn’t trust. She can control herself, yes, but she can’t control other people.

Riley: You don’t trust Lucas. Josh: That’s not what I said. I have no issue with him. When I met him at the wedding, he seemed cool. Kinda weird, but like, that’s all of your friends.

Touché. Riley shrugs, not denying that.

Josh: And I know he likes you. It doesn’t take a lot of observation to pick that up. I’m just saying that with a big choice like this -- and this goes for anything like this -- you need to look out for yourself. Like, have you talked about this with him? Riley: Not yet, but we’re going to. We’re meeting this weekend. Josh: Okay, then, prepare for the fact that he’ll be caught off-guard. He might not react the way you expect him to, at least at first. And because you don’t know how that might go, optimistic as you may be, take measures to protect yourself. I get that you’re not gungho about NYU, but maybe don’t signal to them you’re ghosting until you’re absolutely positive you’re going to California. Like, not just in your soul, but logistically. In concrete, tangible plans. Follow your heart, but don’t shoot yourself in the foot to do it.

Josh wants Riley to do whatever she believes she should do, he just wants her to take care of herself when doing it. It’s fair advice, coming from her thoughtful uncle who may just be a little bit older and wiser than the rest of them.

Admittedly, Riley was getting a bit caught up in the whirlwind excitement of the whole thing. She acknowledges his guidance, agreeing she won’t make any major shifts until she and Lucas are on the same page. Josh can breathe a little easier.

INT. CHARLIE’S APARTMENT - LUCAS’S BEDROOM - DAY

Lucas, on the other hand, is currently on the phone with Dylan and Asher. He explains to them that given Kenneth’s passing, he and Charlie agreed it would make sense for him to move back in with Grace to help her with the apartment as much as he can before his move in a couple months. Not to mention it’ll keep her from being so alone, whether she’d ever admit to feeling that way or not.

Speaking of that move, though… it’s really actually happening! Can you believe it? Although we can’t hear their end of the conversation, based on the way Lucas smiles, it’s clear that Dylan and Asher are being especially cheerleader about this. They’re excited for him, and they hope he’s excited too.

Lucas: Yeah. Yeah, I am. [ a beat ] Did you all see the link I sent to the program website?

He settles onto his stripped mattress as they respond, pulling his chunky laptop towards him where that webpage is still up. Even just looking at it makes Lucas smile, although it still feels surreal. He’s going somewhere. He’s actually doing this.

The only con, Dylan thinks, is that he has to face it alone. Lucas scoffs at first.

Lucas: As if I’ve ever had a problem going it alone?

Maybe once upon a time, but Lucas has softened since then, they argue. They know he’ll be fine, and it’ll be great, but it’s just a little sad he can’t bring any of them with him. Part of growing up and branching out, or whatever…

Well, maybe not quite. Dylan’s innocent commentary sends an unsettling shiver through Lucas as he remembers the fact that he may not be so alone after all. If Riley’s plans come to fruition, she’ll be dropping all of her various goings on here to trek across the country with him.

Lucas still isn’t sure how he feels about that concept -- which is even more confusing, since he figures it should be simple. He should be happy. He loves Riley, so it should be thrilling. It should be easy.

Lucas: What? Sorry. No, yeah, I’m still here.

But not for long. And unless he gets his mind together, Riley may not be either.

EXT. COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY - CAMPUS - DAY

Meanwhile, a stone’s throw away from Barnard where Riley once had her eye and just a stretch from Adams, Columbia University sits nestled in the heart of the upper west side. A beautiful, picturesque campus somehow interwoven into the concrete jungle, feeling just as classic Northeastern collegiate as its Ivy siblings and boasting the academic credentials to match.

This is where we find Charlie, standing by the fountain on the main thoroughfare through the center of campus. Looking around at it all, soaking up the view, breathing in the essence of what the (at least) next four years of his life are going to be like.

Yes, Charlie is attending Columbia University, starting in the fall. Based on the effortless smile on his face, he feels pretty good about that decision.

Zay, off-screen: Literally, how did they even fit this in here? It’s like they dropped a stuffy Harvard anvil on Harlem’s toe.

Charlie’s smile widens as he shakes his head, spinning around to face Zay. He’s brought him along to show him the campus, sharing where he’ll be spending the foreseeable future while Zay is going to be wherever he is in the meantime.

Zay doesn’t seem all that wowed, but that’s not surprising given his disdain for school. Honestly, it’s difficult to tell how much of his aloofness is genuine versus just playing it up for the bit.

Charlie: Columbia has been here for a long time. Way before Chubbies, and Adams, at least. Zay: Now you’re just lying. Chubbies is a historic landmark. It was circa the same era as the Egyptian pyramids. Don’t disrespect. Charlie: And isn’t this exactly the sort of place you’d expect someone like me to end up? Great place to foster Acute Nerd Disorder, don’t you think? Zay: You said it, not me…

Charlie feels compelled to defend his decision, enthusiastically launching into all of the positives about the school. The history, the commitment to academic rigor. The fact that he doesn’t have to leave the city; that it has so many different areas of study all with glowing recommendations.

Charlie: One reason I chose it is because it has a respected dance program, if I decide to go that route. But all of its departments are strong, which is something I wanted, since I don’t know what I want to do yet. History, English, education -- Zay: What did you sign up for as your starting major again? Charlie: English with a concentration in classic lit and a double minor in history and dance. Zay: Figures. Charlie: But that’s just to get my foot in the door. You know, give myself time to figure out what exactly I want to pursue. And with the options here -- I mean, you saw the course catalogue! Being here, I think I can really --

Yeah, this is nice promotional fodder and everything, but it all means nothing to Zay. There’s really only one thing he cares about, the only criteria that matters to him as to whether Charlie should spend another second of his life on it. He gently interrupts his rambling.

Zay: Are you happy?

The question is effective, bringing Charlie to a halt. He pauses for a moment, really thinking about it…

Then the smile is back. Bright, beautiful, breathtakingly real.

Charlie: Yeah. Yeah, I am.

Zay mirrors it. It’s so good to see that smile -- to know it’s genuine. That’s all that matters to him.

Zay: Then it’s good.

High expectations and Ivy pride be damned. Charlie’s grin brightens, absorbing the blessing for all its worth.

Anyway, Zay better get used to spending time in nerdom. Charlie closes the distance between them and comes to join him, taking his hands and reminding him that he’ll probably be getting decently familiar with this campus too in the coming years. That is, if he intends to visit him at all.

Which he will. Because we finally getting one piece of confirmation surrounding the mystery of Zay and Charlie, even if Zay’s exact status remains elusive…

They’re not splitting up. No matter what Zay intends to do. No breakups on the horizon for them, not if they can help it.

Distance or no distance, Zay and Charlie are staying together.

So yeah, Acute Nerd Disorder exposure is part of the package. Zay rolls his eyes, but steals a kiss immediately after, so he’s clearly not that put off about it. If it’s Charlie, then it’s worth it.

Academia doesn’t resume torture for another couple months, though, and as cute as this little prison tour is, Zay has some better ideas about how they could be spending their afternoon. Sure, they could continue to trudge around campus and see all the academic sights… or they could hop the train back to Charlie’s and engage in more troublesome fun. Doesn’t that sound way more appealing?

He initiates another kiss, this one slower and more suggestive, and Charlie smiles against his lips just because he’s so darn transparent.

Zay: So? What do you want to do?

Ain’t that always the question? At least Charlie feels empowered to decide these days. He contemplates for a moment, letting his gaze flit down to Zay’s lips. As if he’s seriously considering giving in…

But then he smirks, Catholic demon as ever, and pulls away. Slipping from Zay’s grasp, walking backwards and challenging him to follow. Because it’s the two of them, and it’s more fun to draw things out -- and it’s never as simple as Zay wants it to be.

This time, though, the cosmic teasing is in their control. They make the rules now. So when Zay sighs, he’s not actually mad, and the smile still on his face gives him away.

What does Charlie want to do? Well… as the upbeat, iconic pop instrumental kicks in…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Cut To The Feeling” as performed by Carly Rae Jepsen || Performed by Charlie Gardner & Zay Babineaux

If you can believe it, it’s actually been a full two seasons since we had an authentic, full-blown dance duet between Zay and Charlie. The last time was “Rewrite the Stars,” poetically, and that pas de deux was far more tragic than this return to form.

With this performance, the two of them did manage to defy expectations and chart their own destiny, so they’re free to be what they are. Enthusiastic, enlivened, full of energy and passion and fully enamored with one another. It’s a duet that is undeniably, unequivocally earned, and it feels all the more powerful because of that.

Charlie takes the opening verse, taunting Zay to follow his lead, which pulls them into a continued tour of the Columbia campus. But the focus is less on the school now, and more on them. Instead of making the jaunt about the university, it acts more as a backdrop for their choreographed back-and-forth. A shifting and changing set piece to their production, rather than the star.

Which makes sense -- when it’s Zay and Charlie, when the two of them really get to dance together, there’s no competition.

The playful nature persists throughout, a refreshing change of pace given their history. It feels more true to them, a promising representation of what their dynamic is allowed to be when both of them are at their best -- when they’re allowed to be themselves. Both of them -- especially Zay -- try more than once to steal a kiss, but the other swerves at the last second, nudging the teasing along just a bit longer. And as expert and sharp as their choreography is, there’s a looseness to it as well. The ease and fluid motion that comes from natural chemistry, totally uninhibited trust.

The most direct callback to the rendition’s spiritual predecessor happens at the bridge, when Zay and Charlie come together close again. Zay spins Charlie towards him and they bring each other close, foreheads pressed together as they move. A mirror image to how they were during the bridge of “Rewrite the Stars,” when the two of them were at odds and seconds away from falling apart.

The duets are equally emotional, but this time, it’s unbridled joy rather than despair. This time, they’re on the same page, walking in the same direction, and they’re no longer asking the universe for permission.

Take me to emotion, I want to go all the way Show me devotion and take me all the way

It’s not impossible. They proved it. Now, all that matters is what they want.

Charlie takes the belt at the end of the bridge, pulling back but keeping their hands locked together as he pulls Zay off again --

EXT. COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY - ROOFTOP - DAY

And they arrive on the roof of one of the campus buildings, just as the song implies, to finish out the final chorus. The sunset and horizon of their city behind them, choreography as strong as ever and smiles almost damningly radiant.

As the song comes to an end, and Charlie exhales the final repetition of the chorus, Zay finally wins. He spins Charlie back towards him and this time, he doesn’t slip away, rewarding Zay with a passionate, blissful kiss.

Exactly where the two of them belong. Amen.

Imani, pre-lap: So Zay isn’t going to do this tour?

INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT

Yindra is currently cooking dinner with her grandma, IMANI (70s), the one who hosts her when she’s home in the city. She’s short and stocky, stern and no-nonsense, but so full of love for her kin and community it cuts through even when she’s trying to be her most intimidating. Yindra is about half a foot taller than her, but you can see the resemblance, particularly in how both women carry themselves.

Another thing they have in common is being nosy, so yeah, Imani also wants the Zay tea. But just like everyone else, Yindra doesn’t have anything to give her.

Yindra: I don’t know. He hasn’t told us anything. Imani: Well, if he’s snuggling up to this white boy like you describe, then you’d think he’s made up his mind. Yindra: You’d think, but no. Zay and Charlie are just… like that. It’s legit with them. [ a beat ] Also, they’re both crazy. Imani: Hmph. Seems to run through that school of yours. Yindra: Tell me about it. But you’d like Charlie. He’s a good Christian fella -- a real one.

That does seem to actually win Imani over a bit. Yindra is distracted from chopping onion when her phone buzzes on the countertop.

Another update.

“This email is to inform you that ⅖ spots have officially been accepted in the group. Our time and opportunities are limited, so please respond with your decision as soon as possible.”

The clock keeps ticking down. She’s running out of time. Imani notices the distress in her features, asking what’s the matter. Nosy, yes, but protective too.

Yindra gives her the summary, explaining the opportunity and the offer on the table. Imani seems skeptical, just by nature, but Yindra does take care to give a balanced take and highlight the genuine pros of a career move like this. It is a potential game-changer, and she is excited about it. Mostly. There’s just this part of her, the distrusting, defensive part, that feels like she should be on her guard. And right now, she doesn’t have a ton of time to debate with that side.

Yindra: I just… wish there was a way to guarantee it would be worth it. That I could know I was going to get something out of it before signing my life away to this group.

Imani points out that whatever the contract is, it likely won’t be lifelong -- legally, that is. But she understands Yindra’s hesitation. In fact, if she could have it her way, Yindra wouldn’t do it.

Yindra: Wait, seriously? Do you mean that? Imani: Yes! If I could have it my way, you’d stay right here in this apartment. You wouldn’t leave it. You would be safe, and protected, and you wouldn’t ever go out and see anyone or do anything. You’d be fully defended, full-time, and then these old bones could finally get some sleep at night.

Okay, so. She’s making a point. Yindra sighs, earning a mischievous smile from Imani.

Imani: I’m not entirely joking, you know. I do feel that way, in my gut. I’m sure Darius would say the same thing if he had to tell the truth. Your mama, too, if she were here. Yindra: Yeah, well, she isn’t. Imani: No, she is not. Because she had dreams she needed to pursue. I am not saying I agree with those choices -- you know she and I have a lot to debate -- but that’s life. That’s the part about raising kids they don’t truly tell you about, the bit where you have to let them fall out of the nest. Yindra: Fall? Not… I don’t know, spread their wings and soar? Imani: You can hope, but you don’t know. Even flying starts as a leap of faith.

Point is, Imani shares Yindra’s fears and reservations. Especially for a place like Hollywood. It’s good, she thinks, that Yindra is trying to really consider the consequences of what this choice might hold. And if she could dissuade her from this dream entirely, well, she would.

Yindra: But… Imani: But, your life is yours. Not mine. And this dream you have, this talent… it is immense, Yindra. It is meant to be shared with the world. I remember the first time you took a solo at church choir, and you brought the house down with those vocal chords of yours. I turned to your papa and I said, “Dari, that little girl is going to put us all through our paces.” You were born to push the limits, to shine beyond all this. [ a beat ] If this girl power thing is the first step on that path, well, then I’ll prepare to buckle up.

But she can do it. Imani knows she can. And if Yindra hates it, or decides it isn’t for her, then she has little doubt that this little girl with the big voice can find another way forward. Nothing has managed to stop her before.

Yindra smiles, touched. She reaches forward and wraps Imani in a hug.

Yindra: I love you, Mimi.

Imani allows it for a moment, hugging her back… then she clears her throat, nudging Yindra back to work.

Imani: These vegetables aren’t going to chop themselves!

Yindra laughs, relenting and getting back to work. On the counter, her phone still lingers on that open email.

Three spots left…

INT. HART APARTMENT - NIGHT

Maya is battling similar uncertainty about the future, scratching out lyrics in her songwriting notebook in frustration. She has one chance to save her downward spiral, to resuscitate her career before it ever really got to start. She’s mad at Justin and Melissa for letting this happen, for doing this to her; she’s mad at herself for letting it happen.

She’s mad at herself for doubting, even for a moment and even now, that this is what she’s born to do.

Katy comes to join her, bringing a cup of warm tea. She figured Maya might need it, since she’s clearly been working hard since she got home.

While she has her, Maya takes the opportunity to ask for Katy’s advice. She avoids any of the nitty-gritty details of her current career status -- if the idea of telling anyone what happened at the retreat is hard, having to confess to her mom is downright unfathomable -- but focuses instead on her current predicament. If she had one shot to put herself out there, to make a song that would be her Hail Mary, what would she do? How would she approach it?

Maya: Because right now, all I’m ending up with is a lot of scathing lines and a deep derision towards any variation of the word “haute.”

Katy laughs, then contemplates the question. She surely agrees Maya doesn’t need to do another “O.M.G.,” as she’s proven she’s an ace at that. She could pull off diva in her sleep. And that’s not guaranteed to make any waves -- she already rode that with her breakout drop.

Instead, Katy comes back to her tried and true advice, the sentiments she’s been teaching her daughter the entire time. Share some authentic. Something true. The same basis for why she thinks the best emotions come through when you’re sharing it as a duet.

Katy: This is your chance to leave an impact, right? So let them see something real. I know that badass, hard-working star is who you are, but there’s so much more than that in this heart of yours. [ tapping her chest ] Let people hear that. If you speak from that, baby, I promise, people will listen. With a voice like yours, it’s impossible not to.

With that, she’ll let her get back to the craft. Maya thanks her, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before she departs. Once she’s alone again, Maya lets that guidance sink in, trying to decide what to do with it.

Lord knows she has plenty of emotion roiling through her right now. But no way is she writing about the Hollywood drama -- both out of self-preservation and out of pride. She doesn’t want to write a love song; those may sell, but that’s not true to her. That’s not real Maya Hart. It won’t ring true, not when it counts.

So what exactly is she meant to do?

EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY

Yindra is waiting outside Nigel’s building the next morning, impatiently waiting. She taps her feet and dances in place, seemingly possessed by an anxious energy she can’t shake off these days.

She gets another notification on her phone, and though it sends dread through her, this time it’s just a text. From Jade:

“Thanks again for this. I’ll text when we’re good to go”

No other context, and Yindra doesn’t get the chance to respond to offer any to us. Because like a sneak attack, another email comes through right after.

“This email is to inform you that ⅗ spots have officially been accepted in the group. Our time and opportunities are limited, so please respond with your decision as soon as possible.”

They’re going faster and faster now. Yindra opens her message thread with Aleena, thinking about seeing if she’s one of those three or a remaining holdout, but Nigel pushes out of his building and comes to greet her before she can do anything. She quickly pockets her phone.

Nigel: Hey. Sorry I took a couple minutes longer than expected -- everything cool? Yindra: What? Oh, yeah, no. Just another reminder that my entire future is on the line and ticking away by the second, but all g. I’m aces. Nigel: Yikes. Do you want to talk about it? Yindra: Genuinely? No. Right now, I just want to spend a lovely, chill afternoon hanging out with my lovely, chill bestie before I go back to the sunshine city from hell.

She throws an arm around Nigel’s shoulders. Then she glances up at the sky, eyeing the clouds rolling in.

Yindra: Whatever we do, though, better be strategic. Those clouds do not look promising. [ meeting his eyes ] Maybe we should grab an umbrella.

EXT. SOHO PARK - DAY

This time, it’s just Zachary accompanying Isa on their latest lore stop. Today, they’re in a park we’ve never seen before, something from further back in Isa’s childhood. They’re currently sitting on a bench at a picnic table, looking around at the park. Across the way, a couple of families are playing with their toddler-aged children.

Zachary: It’s a nice spot. Bit of a hidden gem, I’d say. Isa: Valerie used to bring me here. During that brief window of time where she thought she’d be a parent for real -- the first time. I was like, six? [ nodding towards the buildings ] She rented out the penthouse in that building and acted like it was going to be the real deal. She was going to blow this mothering thing out of the water. [ a beat ] Only being a mom isn’t a role you can play. It’s a full-time job.

And, evidently, Valerie wasn’t cut out for that kind of work. Zachary frowns, sympathetic, but doesn’t try to make it better. He’s not really about empty platitudes. It’s one thing Isa likes about him.

Isa: I was back in the system by the next year. But during that time, I’d come here a lot, with or without her. Was just… I don’t know, nice. A good place to think. Be in my own head. [ a beat ] I’ve only ever brought one other person here before. Lucas. I think we were freshmen, and he’d just gotten in trouble at Adams and into this huge argument with Jack for trying to discipline him. It wasn’t pretty. He needed to get out, to blow off steam, so I thought about this. We ditched last period and I brought him here.

And that was that. Other than that, she’s kept her distance, kept it sacred… until now.

Zachary: I can see why you’d want to protect it. Isa: [ blurting it out ] This terrifies me, you know. What we’re doing. Like, I’m happy about it -- so fucking happy, believe me. I can’t believe it’s worked out how it has, in spite of the hiccups. Most of which, classically, were my fault. Zachary: I’m happy about it too. Isa: But it’s scary. It’s so fucking scary. Because like… now you, and Ruby, and the kids… you’re like, in it. You’re in my life. You’re seeing all these parts, and pieces, and becoming a part of it too. [ swallowing ] And that means you can leave. You can take it all away just as easily as you came. And I’ve had a lot of that in my life already, and it’s just… so not worth the possibility. Usually, it isn’t. I’m seriously not good about people leaving me behind.

Given the history, it’s not hard for Zachary to imagine why. Isa takes a deep breath, reining the emotion back in. They can do this. They can have this conversation.

Isa: I’m getting better about it. You know, with time. And therapy -- therapy is good. But it’s still… it’s not easy. And I’m not gonna be perfect about it. I know you aren’t either. I just wanted you to know… all of that. Why I’m kind of a mess. There’s a lot of reasons, honestly, but like… when Val was coming back into my life, I thought I’d get better. I thought I’d get over it. Then she left again, forever, and now it’s like…

That fear is so real. How fast people can disappear -- no matter how much you love them. Zachary nods, allowing Isa the space to express it.

After a quiet moment, he speaks.

Zachary: I understand. I don’t think that fear is strange or messy at all. Especially with what you’ve been through -- something I contributed to.

Isa exhales, swiping at their eyes.

Zachary: And to be honest with you, I can’t make any promises that I will always be around. Not because I don’t want to be, but because neither of us knows what the future holds. There is a lot about life that I can’t control, and neither can you. Some of the hardest parts of life to me are just… accepting that. Embracing the things you cannot change, letting go of the need to have it all exactly how you want it. I know it’s not easy, trust me.

No kidding. Isa nods, meeting his eyes.

Zachary: But I promise you, for what I can control, I will always keep you in mind. I will always want you to be in my life. I’ve already missed nineteen years of it, and now that we’ve got it somewhat figured out, I don’t intend to miss much more. Whatever you want to share with me, whatever is in your control to share, I will take it. I can give you that much.

And he will, happily. They’re family now, even if they’re still figuring out what exactly that means.

Zachary: It took me long enough to learn about your existence, let alone know it. Now that I know you, Isa, I certainly don’t intend to let you go. Not if I can help it.

That reassurance is all Isa wanted to hear. They manage a smile, watery as it is. Zachary reaches out and affectionately ruffles their hair, a gesture so awkward dad and yet so perfect for the moment that Isa can’t help but laugh in spite of the heaviness.

It’s progress. They’re on their way.

And from what they can control, they think they’ll be okay.

INT. APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY

Nigel and Yindra have made it back safe and sound before the downpour, the latter shaking out their shared umbrella as they head down the hall towards the Chey apartment.

Nigel: You know, you really didn’t have to walk me home. Or all the way to my door. I have walked home many a time before. Yindra: Um, babe, yes I did. You’re a flight risk these days, didn’t you know? I take my eye off you too long, before I know it, you’ll have split and disappeared into some Shakespearean cult in the wilderness of Maine. [ shaking the umbrella pointedly ] You know they’ve got killer clowns up there, right?

Okay, now she’s being weird. Nigel cuts her a look, accenting her bizarre behavior, but no point in arguing with her now that they’re at his doorstep.

In a second, it’s all about to make sense anyway. Yindra bites her lip to hold back a smile --

INT. CHEY APARTMENT - DAY

As they walk right into a surprise waiting for them, Nigel’s entire family accosting him with a greeting the moment he steps back through the door.

All: Surprise!

Nigel is certainly effectively surprised -- and a little panic-stricken. He just about jumps out of his skin and has to take a second to come back to Earth, placing his hand on his chest to calm his heart. Yindra is almost giddy with glee behind him, both thrilled and amused by his reaction.

Once he manages to keep himself from having a heart attack, Nigel gets a better look at what exactly he’s walked into. His whole family is there -- yes, including LEONA CHEY, without any grumpiness to be seen -- as well as Zay and Riley. They’ve basically thrown together a little party, a clearly Riley-made banner strung along the ceiling that reads “London Bound!” and a traditional Filipino cake on the table in the kitchen his mother clearly baked for the occasion.

Then there’s Jade. In the middle of it all, that creative twinkle in her eye, smiling right at him with absolutely no hint of upset.

It’s kind of hard to wrap his head around. Nigel blinks, resisting the urge to rub his eyes.

Nigel: What is all this? Reyna: Word may have finally trickled down to us that you officially talked to your counselor about the transfer. Leona: No thanks to you. Were you just not going to tell us? Liezel: But we were planning this before that. Jade called us, when you were abroad, to plan the whole thing out. Once you told her, she couldn’t wait.

Oh? Nigel lets his gaze drift back to Jade, who steps forward to meet him in the middle.

Nigel: You’re not mad at me? Jade: [ with a shake of her head ] Mm-mm. Nigel: But you were. You definitely were. Jade: Mm… not mad. Surprised, yes. Caught off-guard, yes. You could’ve gone about telling me better. Nigel: No delusions about that, believe me. Jade: But after I thought about it for longer than a split-second reaction… no. Of course not. This makes total sense. And if it feels right to you, following your passion, then it has to be good. Who am I to stand in the way of that?

So no, they’re fine. They’re going to be fine. Nigel exhales, relieved, and pulls her into a hug. She returns it, tightly, happy to be back in his embrace.

Then he realizes something, pulling back and giving her a look. She keeps her arms around his neck.

Nigel: So you weren’t icing me out this whole time, you were just holding me in suspense? For the hell of it? Jade: Think of it as payback. Besides, it felt appropriate -- I know you like a little bit of Shakespearean drama.

Oh, she is so… and he is so, so lucky. He can’t help but smile, shaking his head and stealing a quick kiss.

Leona: Ew.

But the party wasn’t the only trick she had up her sleeve. The group of them have been conspiring, and their results are something his parents are obviously eager to share with him. Jade takes his hand and guides him over to join them.

Ernesto: We know that even if you do this, if you manage to get accepted -- Zay/Riley: He will. Yindra: Hell yeah. Ernesto: Then it’s not going to be a cake walk. There will be financial matters to figure out. Hopefully, scholarships will do a lot of that for us. Yindra: Hell yeah. Liezel: But just in case -- we’ve pulled together a little something. As a team effort. We -- Reyna: Jusko, Liezel, just give it to him already! I’ll drop dead before you do at this rate!

All of them erupt into laughter, LIEZEL CHEY relenting. She reaches behind her near the cake and retrieves an envelope, holding it out for Nigel to take. He does, uncertain, eyeing the group of them before unsealing it and discovering what’s inside.

It’s a balance ledger from their bank, congratulating him on the opening of his brand new savings account. A different one than the one he’s had with his parents as co-signers since he was thirteen; one with more money than he’s ever actually had on his own pocket.

The starting balance is well over a couple thousand dollars. He stares at it, mouth dropping open.

Nigel: What -- what is this? [ to his parents ] This isn’t yours, is it? You need --

Liezel shakes her head, smile bright, while Ernesto pulls her close into a side hug.

Ernesto: It’s yours. We may have done a bit of last-minute community fundraising in the past week or so -- Reyna: All Jade’s idea. And with help from a genius like Riley -- instant success! Riley: I may have plugged some of my connections in the campaign world and tossed a word to my mom’s rich law friends. Zay: I passed word around Turner. Yindra: I did nothing because I have no money and no friends with money, but I provided moral support. Liezel: And we reached out to everyone we knew. Ernesto: They all know how much this means to you, how much you love doing this. When we told them your dream, they did not hesitate.

It certainly won’t cover everything, not even close. But it’s something. It’s a bit of cover, a safety net for a rainy day when he ends up thousands of miles away on his own.

And still more than that, too. Nigel turns his gaze back to Jade, welling up. She smiles, also a little choked up at his reaction.

Jade: I wanted you to see how many people believe in you. How many of us know this is what you’re meant to do. That there are so many people who will do everything they can to help you get there. Every step of the way.

Nigel exhales, stepping forward again and pulling her into an even tighter hug. She returns it just as enthusiastically.

Nigel: I love you. Holy shit. Liezel: Nigel. Jade: [ with laughter ] I love you too.

Reyna swipes a tear from her eye, so very happy to see how far Nigel has come. Riley hugs Zay close, Yindra dogpiling on their embrace and throwing her arm around both of their shoulders.

When Jade and Nigel pull apart, he directs that gratitude all around.

Nigel: I love all of you. Seriously. Thank you. [ voice cracking ] Thank you for being my family.

There’s nothing else he’d rather be. Liezel starts to cry, meeting him in the middle for a hug that Ernesto joins. Before long, it’s a full-on group hug, everyone crowding around Nigel and wrapping him in a warm embrace. Even Leona, who Reyna pulls into the pile with only a little adolescent reluctance.

Love, all the way around and all the way through.

EXT. MINKUS BUILDING - DAY

Love isn’t always as gentle as a summer breeze, though. Sometimes, it’s a hurricane, torrential and unpredictable -- and it can leave you with battle scars.

The rain is certainly threatening torrential now, falling in sheets off the side of the building and creating a symphony of splatters on the sidewalk. Even so, Isa waits, just barely sheltered under the extended edifice of the building over the driveway. They’re sitting on the steps outside the revolving doors, teeth chattering from the wind and arms crossed tight around their knees. It’s not clear how long they’ve been out there.

But what is clear is that they’re not going anywhere. Not until they get the chance to see him again, to say their piece. They’re not going to throw away their one shot to make this right.

Thankfully, they don’t have to wait much longer, but that’s about where the good news ends. Farkle steps outside with his suitcase, scanning for the Minkus car and spotting Isa on the steps instead. For a moment, he just stares, seemingly unable to comprehend that they’re actually there.

Then the driver comes dashing out from the car to take his bag, and it blows his cover. Isa catches the movement, then realizes where the chauffeur is heading, whipping to look over their shoulder and seeing Farkle standing there like a deer in headlights. They scramble to their feet just as the driver takes his bag, stumbling up the steps to reach his level.

Farkle starts to follow the driver down as if they’re not there, like he didn’t see them, but Isa isn’t going to play those games. Not today. Not when it matters this much.

Isa: Farkle. Farkle, wait!

He does, as if bewitched by their voice. He freezes in his retreat, screwing his eyes shut and making a point of staying faced away. He doesn’t trust himself if he looks them in the eye; he doesn’t know what he might say, or what might come spilling out of him that he can’t control.

They have to speak up, more so than usual, because the rain is making an uproar of its own.

Isa: Are you leaving already? Farkle: Yes. The jet leaves JFK in an hour. [ swallowing his emotion ] So if you’ll excuse me -- Isa: No, don’t --

Isa steps forward, closing some of the safe distance between them as Farkle goes still again. God, why is it so hard to walk away from them?

Isa doesn’t waste the brief opportunity. They take a deep breath, willing the words to come out when they need it to most. When it matters, right now, in spite of the rain and the chill and the way they’re trembling for reasons other than the weather.

Isa: You have to know I didn’t mean it. The stuff I said at the wedding.

Farkle winces, twisting his mouth into a line. When he responds, his voice comes out shaky.

Farkle: I don’t know what you mean these days. Been getting a lot of mixed signals. When I get any at all. Isa: I know. I know, and I’m sorry about that. All right? I haven’t been -- I don’t know how to handle this shit. I barely know how to handle any shit, but I’m working on it. This, though… I’m making it up as I go. And I know that sucks, and it isn’t fair, especially because this is the one thing that… [ come on, speak ] That actually matters. This is when it all really matters.

Sure sounds like saying just the right thing… and yet, somehow, that almost hurts more. Because how many times has Isa said something that totally knocked Farkle over, that took his breath away, only for it to be ripped away before too long?

Isa: But you have to know that what happened at the wedding wasn’t how I feel. I know you know that. Farkle: I don’t think you can speak for me. Isa: Farkle, come on. It was just… there was so much going on, and it had been an… insane day. I was so overwhelmed, and it just… I just shut down. But that doesn’t mean that’s what I felt. You have to be fair to me, too. Farkle: [ with a scoff ] Fair? Isa: Will you just look at me? If you do, you’ll look me in the eyes and see that I’m not -- Farkle: I can’t. [ shaking his head to himself ] I can’t. You know what that means, right?

Woof. Okay. Low blow, but perhaps earned. Isa can feel their resolve cracking, can feel that disgusting sense of shame and tears billowing up in their chest, but they force themselves to hold it together.

Isa: Farkle, please. Can we just talk about this? Farkle: I don’t think there’s anything more to say. Isa: Stop. Don’t be like that. There is, and we can work it out. We just -- if you’ll just listen -- Farkle: I can’t. I have to go. I have a plane to catch. Isa, frustrated: You’re not catching anything, you’re taking a private jet.

Regardless, Farkle seems set on his choice. He is going to walk away from them, from this, without even trying to put it back together. And that feels so damning to Isa, so unbearable a possibility, that they lunge forward without thinking and try to take his hand.

Isa: Farkle, please -- Farkle: No!

He yanks away from them, nearly stumbling down the step beneath them. Isa backs off, unprepared for the intensity of his response. He does grant their earlier wish, though, spinning around to face them but keeping a comfortable space between them. It doesn’t feel smart to get any closer -- not when emotions are running high like they are now.

Farkle: I can’t, Isa. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t handle another conversation, where we say the same old things but go nowhere. Where you tell me things I want to hear, because you know I want to hear them, but that’s all it is. Empty words. Hot air. Isa, quiet: [ with a shake of their head ] That’s not what it is. Farkle: Because I can’t -- [ voice cracking ] I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep putting my heart on the floor, like some sick, sacrificial lamb, just to watch it get crushed. Over and over and over again, by people that I am desperate to have put it on a pedestal. I can’t keep… tearing myself apart for other people, people that I -- [ unable to finish it ] only to end up like this. Feeling like this. It’s hard enough living in my own head, the way God threw it together. I can’t keep holding my breath waiting, and living for, the promise that it’s real. I’m not gonna survive it.

So no. He doesn’t want to hear what they have to say. Even though that pathetic, sensitive side of him is dying to hear them out, to let them back in, they can’t do it anymore. He’s simply not strong enough. Sorry if that’s pitiful, or makes them feel like shit, but it’s the truth. This is where they’ve ended up.

And that’s not entirely Isa’s fault -- there’s certainly a large Jordan-shaped shadow looming over all of this -- but they contributed. Even though they wish they hadn’t; even though every inch of them is begging for that to change. They want to make it better. They do.

Isa: Farkle…

But they can’t. Not this time. Farkle simply shakes his head.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “The Winner Takes It All” as performed by Mamma Mia! Original Movie Cast || Performed by Farkle Minkus (starting at 00:30)

[ Lyrics specific to characters -- follow along here! ]

Farkle launches into the ABBA and musical theater bombshell with the emotional aplomb it deserves, guaranteeing that we’re in for a juggernaut (as if Farkle Minkus is capable of delivering anything else).

I don’t want to talk about things we’ve gone through Though it’s hurting me, now it’s history

He starts off soft, still reluctant to even broach the surface of all these emotions -- of Isa -- but running out of places to turn with Isa basically forcing his hand. Kind of just like the mirror image of him at the wedding, though of course in the heat of the moment, that irony is lost on them.

EXT. MINKUS BUILDING - SCULPTURE GARDEN - DAY

Unfortunately, the lyrics are almost perfect for them, just with a few minor tweaks to really bring it home. We dig deeper into them as Farkle moves from a fragile first rendition of the chorus into the next verse, transitioning to the sculpture garden around the back of the towering building. It’s sheltered underneath another extension of the building, so it keeps them dry for now.

Farkle traipses through the classic and modern statues as he moves through the next few bars, using them as a shield to keep safe distance between him and Isa. Isa, who is desperately trying to keep up, but turned all around in this terrain they’re unfamiliar in. In every shot, something about the scenery separates them, keeping them abstracted from one another -- ripples in a reflecting pool; a blockish structure directly framed between them; them almost catching a glimpse of one another, but not entirely, partially hidden and blended into a similarly posed piece of artwork.

EXT. MINKUS BUILDING - DAY

Until we get to the bridge. When it hits, we end up back where we started, Isa chasing after Farkle around the front of the building. But there’s no more running in circles; the cycle ends here. They make it all the way down the front steps, onto the sidewalk and out into the rain, before Farkle spins around and throws out his final say.

I don’t want to talk! Because it makes me feel sad And I understand -- you’ve come to shake my hand

Farkle is practically spitting the words even with his excellent pitch, caught between a wail and a snarl. So tangled up in several competing emotions -- hurt, anger, lust, confusion -- that it just might tear him to pieces. It makes for a compelling performance, undoubtedly, but hell if it doesn’t ache to watch.

Especially for Isa. They stand in the rain with him, shaking their head. At how wrong he has their intentions; at how little he views himself. At how horrifically this beautiful disaster has spun-out, tragic yet somehow grotesquely fitting for an Icarus and his Dethroned Queen.

(It also, not coincidentally, has quite a few shades of this).

But right now, in this vulnerable a state, even the most loving empathy would just feel like pity. So Farkle takes Isa’s obvious emotion for personal indignation, some of his old pride at least rearing up enough to help him prevail in this last argument. His next words are dripping with sarcasm, even as they’re just on the brink of total emotional fallout.

I apologize if it makes you feel bad Seeing me so tense, no self-confidence But you see…

Then he slams into the final chorus, belting out the titular adage as he whirls away from Isa and leaves them behind. Dashing through the rain towards his getaway car, not able to stomach one more second of the confrontation without risking total collapse.

Isa doesn’t fight him this time. They don’t chase after him. They let him go, because if he’s made anything clear enough, it’s that that is the least they could for him right now.

INT. MINKUS CAR - MOVING - DAY

Farkle slams the car door and slumps back against the seats, immediately descending into tears as soon as Isa is out of sight. He rails into the final, powerhouse notes of the performance, delivering a gut-wrench he hasn’t quite achieved since “Santa Fe.” “Dear John” was up there too, but that pain was different. That pain was righteous, liberating, a musical exorcism in the aim of something better.

This is none of that. This just hurts. Palpably, potently, through every muscle in his body.

EXT. MINKUS BUILDING - DAY

Isa obviously feels the same, given the tears that are streaming down their face. They give up and crumple back on the steps, not sheltered from the rain, hiding their head in their hands.

EXT. AIRPORT JETWAY - DAY

As the final backing vocals carry us through to the end, Farkle exits the family car and jogs towards the jet waiting on the runway. He doesn’t look back, doesn’t second-guess. Right now, the only thing he wants to be is away.

INT. PRIVATE JET - DAY

As the backing choir winds down and the music dwindles to a simmer, Farkle tosses his backpack aside and collapses into one of the seats. He tilts his head against the window, looking out towards the rain on the runway… and then it really hits him. Slowly, then all at once.

He almost whimpers the last line, voice quickly deteriorating to the tears.

The winner takes it all…

INT. YINDRA’S ROOM - NIGHT

That evening, Yindra is surprised when she receives a text from Kimmy Price. She asks whether or not Yindra is back in Los Angeles yet, or if she’s still in New York on holiday.

Kind of a specific question, but Yindra gives her an honest answer. She texts back that she’s still in New York, and won’t be back in LA until the weekend.

Kimmy answers back surprisingly fast, and with an unexpected twist.

“oooookay that’s perfect!!! i’m actually in nyc right now too and was hoping we could meet up? maybe coffee tomorrow? let me know 😊😊”

Okay… definitely not what Yindra was expecting. What is her competitor doing in New York when she’s from Ohio, for one, but more so why would she want to meet up with her? When everything is so up in the air, and there’s absolutely nothing to gain from it?

But then, why is Yindra so suspicious about it -- does everything have to have an ulterior motive? Is this what the rest of her life is going to be, doubting every friendly face because they might slip poison in her macchiato?

She doesn’t want to live that way. If she’s going to do this, have this career, she isn’t going to become that person. Not if she has any say.

So she responds affirmatively, texting Kimmy an agreement and telling her she’ll send her the address of this place she likes. It’s pretty popular in her neck of the woods.

Kimmy reacts with a heart, which Yindra chooses against her anxiety to take at face value.

INT. JACK AND ERIC’S PLACE - ISA’S ROOM - NIGHT

Rain still pouring outside, Isa makes it back to their room at Eric’s, drenched and exhausted. His place was the first one they thought to go to, even though he isn’t there. It’s safer here, more secure. And right now, after all that, they need solitude to work through this on their own.

They peel off their soaked jacket, their tee at least having been spared the worst of it. They know they should go shower, dry off, maybe just climb into bed and forget it all for the night. But it wouldn’t be so easy -- there’s way too much bubbling up in their chest, in their mind, desperate to be felt. Needing to be expressed. All the things they didn’t get to say, all the reassurances and explanations and simple declarations Farkle didn’t give them the chance to give.

But it has to come out some way. Sometime. Farkle wasn’t ready to hear it now, and honestly, he may not ever be. But Isa has to get it out. They have to express it.

And maybe, in the future, if there’s even a chance…

So they use their words. Isa settles down at their desk and pulls a fresh piece of paper from the drawer, grabbing their pen and starting to write. Pouring everything out into a letter -- the way they’ve learned to do for years now, one of the only therapy tricks that has done them true good. The same method Farkle used a year ago, that ended up detonating at a more opportune -- or perhaps inopportune -- time.

Isa doesn’t hold back. They don’t think they could.

INT. THRIFT STORE - DAY

Once the sun has risen again and the rain has ebbed, Riley is sifting through the racks at one of her favorite spots. Getting her New York fashion fix in before she might not get to enjoy it again for a while. And with important intention, too, as she’s trying to pick out an outfit for her conversation with Lucas.

She pulls a pretty floral dress off the rack, vintage and just a bit quirky, but totally Riley. Excitement sparks in her eyes as she flips it over, checking for any obvious red flags.

Charlie, off-screen: Oh, that looks awesome.

Riley lifts her gaze, smiling as Charlie comes over to join her. As promised, they’re sharing this shopping afternoon.

Riley: You think? Charlie: Definitely. It’s completely your style -- and I’m pretty sure you’re one of the only people on Earth that could pull this off. Zay: Speak for yourself. I’m standing right here.

Zay swings around the side of one of the pillars nearby, standing on the pedestal with the mannequins. Charlie gives him an exasperated -- but fond, always so damn fond -- look.

Charlie: This? You really think you’d look better than Riley in this. Zay: Bet. Give it to me, I’ll try it on right now. Riley: Yeah, no thanks. I don’t need you ripping it with your dancer biceps before I even get the chance to wear it.

Their loss. Zay shrugs, crossing his arms and leaning against the post. If they’re both so confident that this is the right one, though, then Riley doesn’t need much more convincing.

Riley: I’m sold. I think Lucas will like it too -- it’s one of his favorite colors. Zay: Isn’t he colorblind? Charlie: [ ignoring him ] He will for sure. But also like, you’re the one wearing it. That’s all it takes. Zay: Not that he deserves it, but…

All right, that’s enough cheek out of you, Babineaux. Charlie and Riley both shoot him a glare, so he relents, stepping down off the pedestal and coming to join them in between the racks. Although Zay has always had a knack for taking shots at Lucas, Riley is more sensitive than usual right now, so she addresses it head on.

Riley: You don’t seriously mean that, right? I mean, I know he’s not your favorite person. And I know that me moving and everything -- I get why it probably seems like a lot. But are you really that deadset against it? [ eyeing them ] Not that anything you say will have remotely any impact on my decision.

Yeah, that much they both know. Hard to change the mind of Riley Matthews when she’s determined… but her vulnerability shines through anyway.

Zay and Charlie are two of her best friends, two of the most important people in her life, and she trust their judgment. How do they really feel about it, aside from the characteristic digs?

Charlie has no issue, which he’s made clear since Riley told him. He’ll support her choice no matter what, just like she’s always done for him. Zay, on the other hand… both of them look at him pointedly, waiting for him to say his piece.

Well?

After a long moment, Zay sighs. Because no, Lucas is not his favorite person, and yes, he hates the idea of Riley moving so far away (selfishly, that is). But in truth…

Zay: No, I’m not that pressed. It’s what you want, and if makes you happy, then my opinion is pretty much irrelevant. [ a beat ] He loves you. And you love him, for some reason, so…

So no, he’s not going to get in Riley’s way. No, despite his theatricality, he trusts her judgment without hesitation. He loves her, so he’ll always want to protect her, but if this is what she’s decided is the best for her, then who is he to argue?

They both love her, and they will miss her, but it’s Riley’s future. Whatever she chooses to do, they’re behind her. Every step of the way.

Riley smiles, realizing in an instant that she’s about to be so far away from them. Just when she’s finally gotten them back, together and at peace, the way it all belongs. She finds herself tearing up.

Riley: I’m going, and all that, but God, what am I going to do without you guys?

It’s a question all of us are wondering, Riley. Charlie starts to tear up too, because naturally, and Zay shakes his head affectionately.

Zay: Y’all. I swear.

But he doesn’t want to think about it either. So instead he pulls them both into a hug, Riley leaning into it automatically and holding them both close.

No matter what the future holds, she knows for sure she is never letting them go again.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - DAY

As mentioned previously, in light of Kenneth’s death, the apartment is going through a bit of an overhaul while they go through his things. Trying to declutter, take some of the stuff out so that Grace isn’t left all alone with it all.

Right now, GRACE FRIAR is going through a box of photos, one that got buried somewhere in the last several years. Rather than too deep into the past, this is more close the present than it seems -- Polaroids from Lucas’s toddler years, right in that delicate time between heaven and hell. When things still felt possible, hopeful, and her love was so bright… but the shadows were always looming just around the corner. It was never quite settled; they never really had peace.

She lifts her gaze when the front door opens, tensing just slightly out of old habit. But it’s only Lucas who walks into the room, giving her a nod. He briefly steps into the kitchen to drop groceries and claims he is working on getting the last of his things from Charlie’s apartment, and apologizes for how he hasn’t been around as much as he hoped.

Grace shrugs, waving off his apologies. No need. There’s no rush, really. When he steps back into the room, she holds out one of the photos for him -- one of the two of them, two-year-old Lucas plopped in her lap, both of them looking gentle and unsure. Not quite sure they’re meant to be there, but making it work anyway.

The spitting image, truly.

Grace: Have you ever seen these?

Lucas shakes his head before he even sees the pictures. They never were big on sharing mementos around here. He takes the Polaroid, looking at it for himself.

Grace: I think Ken took that. Once we actually finally got this couch in here. Lucas: Looks like you don’t want to be there. [ a beat ] Me either.

Grace smiles, slightly amused in spite of the macabre edge to that. Maybe that’s true, but that’s the hand they were dealt.

Grace: And here we are still. [ taking it back ] You’re finally getting to go where you want to be, though.

Lest he forget the strides he’s made, and the freedom they’ve both just begun to explore. Lucas absorbs that, glancing down at the rest of the photographs in the box as Grace sifts through them.

They almost feel fake. Like staged replicas, because of how normal they look. If you flipped through those snapshots, you might be able to believe just for a second that their family was like everybody else.

Lucas: Can I ask you a question?

Grace nods. Lucas knows what he wants to ask -- needs to ask, at this point -- but he finds it hard to put into words.

Lucas: How… I mean… things with dad. [ shaking his head ] How did… Grace: I know what you’re asking.

Lucas meets her eyes, surprised. Does she? She recedes a bit, inherently growing shy, but she pushes forward regardless.

Grace: You want to know how it ended up like this. How did I ever let myself get here?

So she does know. Maybe because she’s asked it herself, numerous times, for much longer than Lucas ever contemplated it. He nods, sheepish.

Grace carefully puts the box onto the coffee table. After a long moment of quiet, she sighs.

Grace: It wasn’t always like this. [ a beat ] I know you probably find that hard to believe. But… it wasn’t. It didn’t start this way. Ken… he wasn’t always this… much. Not at the beginning.

It wasn’t all bad. Like most abusive relationships, it was hard to leave for a reason.

Grace: I loved your dad. And he loved me. Really, he did. And sometimes… it was good. [ delicately emotional ] It was really good.

But not always. Not enough. Not, ultimately, in the ways that matter most. And if you asked her to define when it changed, when the switch flipped -- if it ever actually did, rather than a long, gradual descent into a new kind of normal -- she wouldn’t be able to tell you. When you’re in it, living the day to day, it just sort of happens. Before you know it, that’s where you are.

That’s exactly what Lucas doesn’t want to hear.

Grace shrugs, shaking her head wordlessly.

Grace: So how did I end up here? I don’t know. I fell in love. Then, sometime in the last twenty years… I woke up.

And now they’re here. Survivors, in spite of it all.

Lucas frowns.

INT. HART APARTMENT - DAY

A knock on the door startles Maya out of her meditation, one of her last-ditch efforts to evoke some musical exorcism that’ll give her the hit she needs. She frowns, getting to her feet and calling over her shoulder.

Maya: Mom? Are you expecting someone?

INT. APARTMENT BUILDING - HALLWAY - DAY

It’s not for Katy. When she pulls open the door, Isa is standing on the other side. Surprised she actually opened the door, a hair sheepish, but obviously purposeful in their showing up.

After a moment of shock, though, Maya isn’t the most receptive host. She immediately starts to close the door.

Maya: I don’t have anything to say to you. Isa: Maya, wait! Please.

They hold their arm out, more than prepared to be crushed with a slam of the door. But Maya isn’t so moved by that -- they’re more taken aback by the “please,” the gentle plea from someone who is rarely gentle nor prone to beg. Neither of them are. It’s part of what made them so alike.

So against her prideful instincts, Maya doesn’t shut them out. They open the door a bit further, inviting Isa to make their case. They get one chance, so they better make it count.

Isa: I’m not here to make you like me again. I’m not here to apologize, or explain myself -- not to you. I know it wouldn’t make a difference.

Somehow, Maya seems a bit stung by that. And maybe, just maybe, a little disappointed.

Maya: Then why are you here? Isa: Because you’re the last hope I’ve got. And I’m at the point where I’m not above throwing out Hail Marys.

Okay, slightly intrigued… Isa reaches into their back pocket and retrieves a letter. Sealed with care, Farkle’s name written on the front.

Maya: You have to be kidding me. Isa: It’s all I’ve got left. I need him to know the truth. I had to say it somehow. But I know if I just send it -- if it even makes it at all, the postal service sucks ass -- he won’t open it. Not now. Maya, biting: I wonder why. Isa: You’re right. I know, you’re right, okay, and it’s beyond my good grace to ask for this. I… messed up, big time, and he doesn’t owe me this. Neither do you. Nobody owes me anything.

God, the pride of this must be killing them. Maya can imagine it, like secondhand smoke. Even so, here Isa is, doing it anyway. Because it’s that important to them; because it means that much.

Isa: But I just… I had to say my piece. So that at least I know I tried. At least there’s a chance… [ clearing their throat ] You love him. You love Farkle more than anybody on this planet. I know that. And I know you know him better than anybody.

Maya isn’t going to argue with that. She raises her eyebrows.

Isa: So from one person who cares about him to another… [ turning the letter in their fingers ] You’ll know if he’s ready to hear it. If ever. You can give it to him, whenever it’s okay, and he might actually give it a chance.

Isa meets her eyes, achingly sincere. Vulnerable with Maya, in this moment, in a way they haven’t gotten to be around each other in over a year.

Isa: So, I’m asking you. Just… take this. Whether you give it to him or not, I can’t control that. But I can at least give it every effort I can. Take every chance I have.

So… they hold out the letter, waiting for Maya to accept it. Praying that she will.

Isa: Please.

It’s a pretty impassioned pitch. Maya isn’t immune to a well delivered pitch… and truthfully, even if Isa hadn’t put their entire soul into the sell, Maya probably would’ve taken it regardless. The rift between them may be gaping and growing by the minute, but the ghost of their friendship is still there. The fondness they have for each other still lingers -- is probably always going to linger.

After a beat, Maya takes it, delicate in her manicured hands.

Isa exhales, nodding a silent thank you. Already relieved by the gesture, even if the letter never makes it to its final destination. At least they did everything they could.

Before they can make themselves scarce again, Maya offers one more remark.

Maya: He really loved you, you know.

Just in case they weren’t painfully aware. Farkle loves hard, maybe too hard, and he loved Isa with every ounce of his being. He loved them, and they fucked it up.

They know. God, does Isa know.

Isa: I know… [ shyly ] And I know you did, too.

That’s a confession that actually catches Maya off-guard. Isa’s admittance, after months of growing and time to heal, that they know Maya didn’t mean to hurt them when she left. That they both made mistakes, and mishandled the situation, which brought them where they are now. That regardless of what state they’re in now, the friendship they had before was real -- it meant something, enough to haunt both of them and wonder if it’s ever a possibility they could get it back.

Right now, that’s a no. But the future… well, none of them can know. Maya swallows.

Maya: Bye, Isa. Isa: Yeah. Bye. [ after a beat ] See you around?

Will they… after another contemplative moment, Maya clears her throat.

Maya: Guess we’ll see.

For now, it’s time to close the door. Maya does so, leaving Isa on the other side. They take a deep breath, closing their eyes and willing themselves to be okay with letting go.

INT. HART APARTMENT - DAY

Maya exhales an equally weighted sigh, leaning back against the door. She’s not usually so affected by other people; she isn’t usually so overwhelmed by people she’s dropped from her life. Why is this so different? Why is Isa so hard to shake off?

Because it was love. They loved each other, because of and in spite of their flaws. It was real.

Now it’s gone. Whatever version of them that existed before, it’s over now. They both have to figure out how to move forward -- as individuals, and a shared concept.

INT. APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY

Isa will try. That’s all they can do. As they take their first step onward and leave the apartment behind, and the synth-laden opening notes float in…

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “You Let Me Down” as performed by Alessia Cara || Performed by Isa De La Cruz & Maya Hart

Isa starts off the emotional duet, stepping out of the apartment building and into the fresh air. Breathing it in, using it to power their march forward. They can move past this -- they have to. There’s no other choice.

Even with the ache, though, the performance is a marked improvement over where they started the season. Now the anger of the unexpected betrayal has ebbed, and they can both think clearly. They can reflect, look back on what happened, see where they both went wrong. They can accept that it isn’t a simple issue of “I’m right, you’re wrong” -- like most relationships -- and that the mistakes they made don’t completely erase the good that they shared.

They loved each other. They let each other down. Those two things can coexist. That’s life.

INT. HART APARTMENT - DAY

Maya picks up the second verse, moving away from the door to head towards the window. She pulls the curtain back, looking for Isa on the streets -- but they’re already gone. The moment has already passed.

It’s time to move on. Maya settles onto the window sill, tilting her head against the pane.

You're elusive and it kills me Inconclusive, never-ending

Whether their story is actually over is hard to say. Neither of them can know right now, in the present moment, what the future might hold. They just have to sit with this, try to wrap their heads around it, find a way to live with it.

They continue to pass the remaining lines back-and-forth split between Maya stoic in the window and Isa’s walk home, bringing a thoughtful and uncharacteristically demure conclusion to their journey for now. Isa takes the bridge, emphasizing the longing for how things used to be.

I will keep it, keep it sacred Like it's golden, wish you nothing But an exhale, and I'm hoping you hear when I say

Then the two of them sing the next line in unison, in balanced harmony, bringing that confession of mutual fault to musical light.

I never meant to let you down

Then we linger with Maya, still looking out the window. She takes the final line, soft and regretful, before the song fades away as softly as it arrived. For a moment, Maya sits in the quiet, heavy with the feeling…

Then it strikes her. This. This is what she’s feeling -- this is the great emotional mystery of her life right now, the one she’s been grappling with and battling and forcing down for an entire year. A cocktail of emotions she’s still struggling to figure out, to untangle the web of pride and loss and warmth and wistfulness knotted in her chest.

Inspiration has arrived like a lightning strike, overwhelming and electric. Maya climbs off the window sill and reaches for her songwriting notebook.

Time to get to work.

EXT. SVORSKI’S COFFEE - DAY

KIMMY PRICE is already at a table outside the familiar coffee spot when Yindra arrives, beaming brightly when she sees her coming. She waves and stands to greet her once she approaches, offering a friendly Midwestern-charm hug. Like they’re already friends catching up, rather than one-off acquaintances who may or may not be in direct competition with one another.

Kimmy: I’m so glad this was able to work out. Feels like fate!

Or maybe a sign… Yindra blinks.

Yindra: Right… yeah, for sure. Kimmy: I haven’t ordered yet, so we can go grab something together whenever you’re ready. Unless they come out and take orders? I’ve never been here before, so. Yindra: No, uh, yeah, usually if they see people at these tables they’ll come take the order for you. Sometimes. I guess we’ll see.

Sounds good. For now, that just leaves the two of them… Kimmy is all smiles, and the crazy thing is, it feels authentic. She’s not throwing on a plastic one for the Hollywood sheen; she doesn’t seem to have something scheming up her sleeves.

She is, for whatever reason, just happy to see Yindra again. It’s that simple.

Kimmy: I’m actually so excited to be here. It’s my first time in the city. Thought I’d take a trip to visit it, in case this all ends up working out and I’m stuck in LA for a long while. I’m a lot closer now in Ohio than I will be. Do you miss New York when you’re on the west coast? Yindra: Um… it’s… they’re different.

True enough. The small talk is nice, and everything, but with the stakes so high, Yindra can’t help but cut right to what she wants to know.

Yindra: Did you hear from them? The execs? Did you get an offer?

She doubts she’d be here talking to her if she didn’t -- that would be truly weird. Her instincts are right, as Kimmy nods enthusiastically.

Kimmy: I did. I accepted basically immediately. I mean, I talked it over with my folks and friends and everything, but it was a no-brainer really. I’m so keen. [ a beat ] Did you? Get an invite?

Yindra hesitates, instinctively holding her cards close to the vest… then she folds. No reason not to.

Yindra: Yeah, I did. Kimmy: Yes! [ with a clap ] I knew it. I knew you’d be one of them. Your voice is way too good not to. And the harmony you had with Tabitha, when you did that high-note, low-note thing in your workshop project?

Clearly, Kimmy was paying attention. And she’s glad to hear her instincts were right -- this is actually the exact reason she was hoping they could meet up on such short notice.

Yindra: You mean you didn’t just want to spend some time with dazzling lil ol’ me? Kimmy: Oh, no, I mean, that too. I’m so excited to bond with everyone. But if you got an invitation -- Yindra: Try to talk me out of it? Kimmy: OMG, no. The complete opposite! If you weren’t already convinced, I wanted to make sure I got the chance to try to win you over.

Oh. Huh. Yindra raises her eyebrows, skeptical, but she doesn’t interrupt or walk away.

Kimmy: The group needs your voice, Yindra. You really are so, so good. And I feel like with your personality, the whole laid-back, cool but bubbly thing -- that’s exactly the balance we need. You have an oomph, and the general public will so be drawn to that. It can add a little fire to the overall picture. I know I certainly don’t add that -- despite the hair, ha ha. Yindra: You’ve really thought a lot about this. You believe in this that much? Kimmy: Of course! A bunch of talented, driven gals coming together to take this world by storm… I mean, why wouldn’t I want to be a part of it?

That’s a good question, Kimmy. Her approach is so wholesome, yet aware, and so unabashedly passionate. It’s kind of refreshing, after all of the doom-and-gloom and the common too-cool-for-school vibe of the industry these days.

Kimmy: I just… I think this could be something. Something really, really great. Call it a feeling, intuition, I don’t know, but I trust it. I’m big on trusting my gut. [ with a grin ] And to have the chance to work with other young women who are so good, and gifted, who care about this as much as I do… I’m not gonna pass that up. Even if it lasts a snap in the grand scheme of things, I’ll take that start any day.

So she hopes Yindra seriously considers joining. Because she does think she is uber talented, some of the best vocal chops they had, and Kimmy would truly like to get her know her better and become friends. Maybe that’s corny, but it’s the truth. Kimmy doesn’t know how to be any other way.

And sometimes, corny works, because she’s kind of reinventing Yindra’s entire perspective on the whole thing right now. Why does it only have to be a potential cage, full of pitfalls and trap doors? Couldn’t there be some hope in it too? Maybe it’s not so much about what the future does or doesn’t have in store for Yindra -- what matters, at the end of the day, is the perspective she takes walking into it.

For now, she isn’t making any promises, but she assures Kimmy she’ll think long and hard about it. And fast, considering the spots are going quick. Kimmy beams.

Yindra: So, uh, I don’t know if they’re ever going to come out here or not. You want to go actually order drinks, or?

Kimmy laughs, nodding. The two of them get to their feet, Yindra opening the door for Kimmy as they step inside the shop.

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AMBITION “Coup De Foudre” [ 4.13 ]♮Part 3

INT. TURNER ACADEMY - ROSARIO’S OFFICE - DAY

ROSARIO GAO is at her desk in her faculty office, working through the gradebook for the end of the semester. Now that it’s finals season and she’s no longer in unflappable professor mode, she seems far more approachable, just another variation of busy educator drowning in work.

Or maybe it’s simply that the stakes have changed. Perspective, and all that. Perhaps that’s what makes Rosario seem less formidable as Zay approaches her ajar office door, lightly knocking on the oak wood. She lifts her gaze from her work, a bit surprised to see him but gesturing for him to enter.

Rosario: Good afternoon, Mister Babineaux. I must admit, I didn’t expect to see you again until the transfer announcements. Zay: Why’s that? Rosario: I was under the impression you would rather be just about anywhere else than in this academic institution, unless you were in the studio. [ tilting her head ] Correct me if I’m wrong.

It would be dishonest to claim otherwise. Say what you will about Rosario Gao, but she does have an impeccable knack for reading her students like open books. Not that Zay was ever trying to pretend he was enthusiastic about academia…

So he doesn’t dispute her comment. He simply shrugs instead, arriving in front of her desk.

Rosario: In any case, I hope you haven’t wasted your time stopping by. I won’t be giving out advance information about the transfer spots. Miss Valdez already tried that approach yesterday. Zay: That’s not why I’m here. Though I think if I did want advance intel, I could negotiate a way to get it. Part of the business, after all.

Sure… he does walk that tightrope between confidence and arrogance so masterfully. Rosario keeps her expression neutral and unimpressed, though if you blink you might miss the moment where it seems like her mouth twitches into something like an amused smile.

If he’s not here to dig for an end to the suspense, then, why exactly has he paid her a visit?

Zay: The suspense is already over for me. That’s why I’m here. [ clasping his hands together ] You need to give my spot to Vanessa.

There’s a long pause. Rosario stares at him, obviously unsure if she heard his request correctly. Her expression doesn’t betray anything, but there is a clear battle of wills going on here as to who might crack their unshakeable exterior first.

Oddly enough, Zay seems confident he has the upper hand here.

Rosario: What makes you so certain the spot is yours to give away? As I said, we’ve made no official announcements -- Zay: I know how much I put into this. I know what I left on that stage. I respect both of my competitors as dancers -- they’re talented, there’s no doubt about it -- but I know there was a place for me here at Turner. I would bet money that at the end of the day, one of those spots was going to be mine. Rosario: [ after a beat ] As I said. I won’t confirm or deny anything of the sort. Zay: But that’s irrelevant. It doesn’t matter. I’m not attending Turner Academy next year. Rosario: Is that so? Zay: Yes. I was offered a dance role in the touring company of Jagged Little Pill. After giving it a lot of thought, I accepted it. As you so accurately pointed out, academia isn’t exactly my speed.

The tour will likely be a better fit for him -- and he at least has to try it out to see for himself. Rosario absorbs this, mildly impressed by the maturity he’s demonstrating in making the decision.

Rosario: Well, congratulations. Earning a role like that is not an easy feat. Zay: Thank you. Rosario: But I fail to see how that inspired you to come here and tell me so. Aside from a courtesy. Zay: Because I wanted to make my case for Vanessa. If she wasn’t already the other transfer -- which if this faculty has any sense, she should be, but that’s none of my business -- then I wanted to make sure my spot went to her. Rather than you all just deciding to leave it vacant, or something, since this whole process has been so twisted. Rosario, flatly: Thank you for the feedback. [ then, gentler ] And why exactly do you feel the need to do so? Zay: Vanessa is an incredible dancer. She’s my only real competition. She’s exacting, and dedicated, and studies her stuff. She works damn hard. Harder than me. She absolutely lives and breathes this. I’ll always stand by my assertion that I’m the best of the best, bar none, but you could argue she wants this more than me. Her passion speaks for itself.

So if he had any say, remotely any influence at all, he wanted it to be known. He didn’t want to walk away without giving her the best chance she has.

Zay: Like I said, I believe she’s earned it without me pinch-hitting for her. She doesn’t need me to fight her battles or extol her virtues. In fact, I think she’d kill me if she knew I was doing this. Rosario: And yet, here you are. Zay: Here I am. Because I know art is subjective, and performance even more so. There might be some people on the admissions panel who believed Gia should get a spot. And fine, whatever. Let her have one. But give Vanessa her due, too. She wants it, and she certainly deserves it more than anyone else.

Including him. That, he can state with utter confidence.

With that, he doesn’t have much else to say. This might be the last time he’s seen haunting the halls of Turner, at least as a student. But he takes the time to thank Rosario for her tutelage -- she wasn’t an easy professor to please, and she worked them hard, but he prefers it that way. He respected her, above all else. Even if she didn’t find the same appreciation for him, he wanted her to hear that from his own mouth.

Before he can turn to leave, Rosario offers some honesty in return.

Rosario: Respect is a two-way street, Mister Babineaux. [ off his surprise ] I always respected your talent, and your drive. You had your faults -- openly -- and you still have plenty to learn. Mainly in the realm of humility. But I enjoyed having you as a student, Zay. [ with a smile ] I look forward to seeing what you do next.

It might be the first time she’s ever actually smiled at him. Genuine, without condescension or criticism. And that makes it all the more meaningful, because he gets the sense he actually earned it.

He nods, mirroring the smile as he makes his exit.

Rosario watches him go, little doubt in her expression that it won’t be the last she hears of Isaiah Babineaux.

EXT. TURNER ACADEMY - DAY

Zay emerges from the dance building, exhaling a sigh. It feels lighter walking around campus now, easier to breathe.

Almost too easy-breezy, considering he nearly slams into someone when he descends the last steps. He apologizes and helps steady VANESSA JOHNSON, seemingly on her way into the building. She readjusts her duffle bag on her shoulder, the two of them sizing each other up.

Vanessa: What are you doing here? Zay: Just taking care of some last-minute things. What are you doing? Vanessa: Booked a studio. Wanted to get some practice in. Zay: Practice for what? The semester is over. Vanessa: Nothing, really. Just… feels better to be moving, I guess.

She truly doesn’t ever take a breather. But Zay gets it. It’s in their bones. It’s exactly that instinct, that shared motivation they both have, that makes him certain she’s going to make the most of being here.

Which if he’s done his part, he’s sure she will be. He gets out of her way, but calls after her as she starts to make her way up the steps.

Zay: Good luck next year.

Kind of a weird thing to say, given this semester is barely over… but Vanessa takes it. She nods.

Vanessa: Thanks. You too. Zay: See you around?

The question is more than a casual invitation. It’s an unspoken olive branch, a formal extension of peace that could allow for something more. No more inflamed affairs, obviously, but the chance for a dynamic that better fits them both. Friendship, if it’s meant to be. Whenever she’s ready.

Vanessa: Yeah, maybe. See you around.

Zay smiles, then offers one more nod, heading off in his own direction.

Vanessa watches him leave, thoughtful. She isn’t sure of that idea right now -- of Zay Babineaux as a friend -- but she’s not opposed to it. She could be, someday.

Either way, this is definitely not a final goodbye for Vanessa Johnson.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - LUCAS’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

The already sparsely inhabited bedroom is becoming only more bare as Lucas makes his way through it, diligently trying to pack things away for his eventual California jump. It’s coming faster than he thinks, and the anxiety over it is propelling him to get organized even more than usual.

It would help if he didn’t have things tossed between so many places. There’s a warmth to having so many places to nest, sure, but that becomes a hassle when you’re trying to make sure you’ve got everything. If he finds he’s missing something he knows he needs to pack, there’s a whole list of places -- Charlie’s, Riley’s, Jack’s, the Orlandos’ -- he has to consider before even knowing where to begin.

He needs to get more serious about consolidating things back to the apartment. If he’s going to be staying here with Grace until his move, to help her with everything, he should start acting like it. He should start taking a lot things more seriously, like how he’s going to wind down his commitments at Chubbies. Or if he has any outstanding debts.

Or what he’s going to do about Riley. Every time he thinks about it, the possibilities of their impending conversation, his chest gets tight and his mouth goes dry. It’s like his brain gets fogged, and all potential practical thinking goes out the window. He can’t even tell if he’s excited by the basic prospect, underneath all the nerves and confusion clouding his head.

If Riley wants to go with him, that should be enough for him. Right? He’s never doubted her instincts before. She’s confident, and determined, and far smarter than him. He should be touched that she wants to come with him; he should be hopeful about the possibility of building their future together. As a team.

But lots of people walk into decisions they never should’ve made. Lots of people delude themselves into traps for reasons they think are iron-clad. It’s the easiest thing in the world to convince yourself to do just about anything in the name of love -- look at him. Look at his parents.

Look at his parents…

Lucas can’t think about this right now. He has to pack. He tries to push past it, going back to inventorying things on his mattress. When he moves a textbook to the side, he finds a newspaper left behind, open to a page in the arts section. Grace must’ve left it there for him this morning, with the right corner dog-eared.

It’s clear why. In the top right corner, there’s a small insert dedicated to local productions, and this one is reviewing a recent staging of Ghost at NYU. Riley is mentioned, and naturally, praised, commended for her emotional and enjoyable performance amidst an admittedly saccharine script and plot. There are other comments on Evan and the general technical aspects, but Lucas zeroes in on one phrase in particular.

“For Matthews, we can’t wait to see what she decides to do next.”

Lucas rereads the passage again, sliding down onto the floor and leaning against the edge of the bed. He frowns, anxiously crumpling the edges of the paper.

This is exactly what he keeps getting stuck on. This is exactly what he can’t let it go. Riley may believe it’s worth -- he’s worth -- throwing all this away to go to California, but how can they know? How can he guarantee that it’s going to work out, that he won’t fuck it up, that her sacrifice to follow him will be worthwhile for her in the end?

He can’t. He can’t make that promise. Riley holds all of the potential in the world, right here and now. Even local papers are highlighting it. Everyone can see it. Everyone knows just how bright she shines.

And he might just be the thing that smothers her light.

But the prospect of leaving, and leaving her behind, feels equally as brutal. If can convince her not to go now, to give all this more time and let him settle out there, what’s to stop her from throwing it all away for him later? In another month? Another year? What’s going to stop him from stupidly encouraging it, of roping her into his trajectory the same way Kenneth did Grace?

Where is the line between selfish and selfless? Does he prioritize what he wants, or what she needs? What she deserves? Can any of it overlap?

What is love, and what’s just a well-adorned cage?

What the hell is he going to do?

Lucas tosses the paper to the side, crossing his arms and tucking his head against them.

INT. YINDRA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

The time has come for Yindra to make her decision. She’s sitting on the end of her bed, laptop open on her lap and email open with a draft to Jupiter Records.

And on either side, she’s got her boys. Zay is on her right, Nigel her left, both of them there with her as she faces this choice. While they’d normally be nudging her to get on with it already, this time, they stay quiet. Giving her the space to make the call when she’s ready. After all, they’re all quite familiar with the feeling of life-changing decisions these days.

With a shaky breath, Yindra inhales.

Yindra: It might not work. Nigel: Maybe not. Yindra: I could end up hating it. Zay: The label could lose interest. Yindra: We could create a lot and still go nowhere. Nigel: The pop graveyard is vast. Yindra: I can’t control any of that. Zay: No. Yindra: It fucking sucks that I can’t control it. Nigel: Yes.

All compelling reasons to quit while she’s ahead. If she can even call herself “ahead…”

Yindra: But I might love it. Zay: Yep. Yindra: It might be the first step of many. We might hit it big. Nigel: Destiny’s Child is calling. Yindra: It could be the start of everything. And I won’t know until I do it.

Correct. So all there is left to do… Nigel and Zay look at her, raising their eyebrows.

Nigel/Zay: So?

So… Yindra exhales, drawn out until she’s expelled every ounce of breath. Then, she inhales another deep one and holds it…

And hits send. She responds to the Jupiter Records email, Reese Dalton-King copied, with her choice.

“I would be thrilled to join the group. Let’s please find a time when I am back in the city to formalize the agreement. Reese will help coordinate. Thank you very much for this opportunity.”

It’s a yes. She’s doing it. She is now a member of a brand new girl-group.

Zay and Nigel both burst into applause, only slightly cheeky at her expense. She elbows each of them and rolls her eyes, but the grin that spreads onto her face is nothing but relieved. The familiarity of their teasing is much needed in the face of so much newness on the horizon.

Familiarity that she knows she’s going to miss in the months to come. She’s going back to Los Angeles. Nigel might be -- will be, if they can manifest it -- going to London. Zay is going to be who knows where at any given time. The stark reality of that impending distance puts the tremble back in Yindra’s voice.

Yindra, quietly: Everything is going to change. Isn’t it? Zay: Yes. Nigel: [ with a shrug ] It already has.

Yindra nods. She places a hand on each of their knees, looking between them.

Yindra: But not this.

Zay and Nigel exchange a look… then they smile. Zay places his hand on top of hers; Nigel does the same.

Zay: Not this. Nigel: Not ever.

If they so will it, so it will be. Or at least, they’ll do everything in their power to keep it that way. Yindra tears up, but holds it together, nodding again and squeezing their hands. Then she wraps her arms around their shoulders, hugging them close and closing her eyes.

Zay and Nigel lean into the embrace, letting her hold them. Enjoying the brief moment of unity while they still have it.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - NIGHT

Maya is back in the Los Angeles apartment, clearly having made a similar decision. She’ll see if she can keep this new career afloat in this unpredictable, fickle city, for as long or short as it lasts. Performing, the art of entertaining, is what she lives for. She can’t imagine just giving it up.

At least this time, she has better allies. Josh comes to join her on the couch, carrying his laptop. He places it on the coffee table in front of them, multiple internet windows open and tiled along the screen. All of different platforms for drops of their next -- and what may be their last -- musical collaboration.

Josh: Jupiter said we could drop it whenever we’re ready. Since they’re not technically the backers of it, I think they’re more curious to see how the market receives it regardless of rules. [ with a shrug ] Beyoncé and Taylor Swift kind of destroyed the traditional drop anyway.

So it’s up to them. When they pull the trigger, it will be on their watch. Nothing left to do but do it…

Yet Maya remains hesitant. She’s staring at the screen, at all those tentacles of the internet waiting for her latest sacrificial lamb. This one is harder to send off than the ones that came before, though -- she’s nursing battle scars that have barely started to heal. She doesn’t know if, or how, Global Beat might punch back. She’s never had to put herself out there with the serious possibility that it may be her swan song, as far as the consumer public is concerned. If it flops, she won’t be able to blame the misguided direction of Justin and Melissa.

And this time, it’s really herself she’s throwing out to lions. “On My Grind (O.M.G.)” was too, of course, but it was the exoskeleton. Her silver-armored skin, glossy and confident, that doesn’t have anything to fear. This track is a definite change in tone, in vulnerability, and pokes at another set of wounds that are still somehow fresh. These lyrics have meaning; they speak to something real.

Maya’s silence says it all.

She’s scared.

Josh examines her, searching for what he can say to bolster her nerve. He’s never needed to before with her. But if he’s going to be a good producer -- a good partner, in many ways -- this is going to be part of the deal. He’ll take that trade-off, as he’d much rather work with Maya the person than Maya the product.

Josh: It’ll get easier. With time. And more drops. Every artist has releases that didn’t go as planned, or ones they wish they’d scrapped. It won’t always feel this daunting. Maya: If I even get another chance. Josh: The song is good, Maya. It’s really fucking good. You should know by now that I would tell you otherwise if it wasn’t. [ a beat ] And if Jupiter doesn’t love it… okay then. Fuck it. We’ll find other ways. We’ll keep doing what we want, making the music we believe in. The industry is changing every day. We’ll figure out how to find our place in it. You’ll figure it out. You have managed to smash through every other barrier you’ve encountered so far.

In short, he believes in her. He believes that they’re capable of greater things. And he believes in this song, knows in his gut that it’s meant to be shared.

But only if she wants to. It’s her voice, her words. He hovers his hand over the enter key on the keyboard, raising his eyebrows at her.

Josh: We’ll do it together. Yeah?

Just waiting on her green light… Maya closes her eyes, taking in one more moment of contemplative calm. Then she exhales, and nods, sitting forward and lining her manicured hand up next to Josh’s over the keys.

Josh: One, two…

On three, their fingers hit the key. As it clicks, sending the song into the interwebs, the screen smashes to black --

EXT. MAYA’S MUSIC VIDEO - MALIBU BEACH - NIGHT

And fades up on a wide shot of twilight on the shore in Malibu, pale blue moonlight casting a cool hue over the image. We’re immersed in a music video, glimpsing the future, watching what will be the eventual companion visual to the single Maya just dropped in the present.

Before the music starts, we just listen to the crashing of ocean waves on that grey, empty shore. When the shot cuts away, we get another angle on the beach, finding Maya kneeling on the sand from behind. She’s more simplistically dressed than she’s ever been in a career project of hers, in a plain white camisole and shorts. Her bombshell blonde hair is tied back loosely with a silver ribbon.

The camera adjusts so we can see her face, her expression uncharacteristically pensive. She’s intently focused, tracing a word deep into the sand at her knees. The ocean is just inches away, threatening to lap up her hard work.

Once she finishes, the word she’s penned into the earth becomes visible.

Bygone.

With that, the music kicks in, launching us into the song.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ Maya’s Original Song, “Bygone” || Similar to “Supercut” as performed by Lorde || Performed by Maya Hart

Every few years in the history of music, there is a song that absolutely crash lands into the pop culture landscape. Your “drivers license,” or “Hello.” It defies expectations and becomes ubiquitous, a phenomenon in what feels like mere moments. There’s no rhyme, reason, or magic formula that determines what will resonate; there’s no way to predict what it will be. It simply arrives, a melodic meteor, and captures the hearts and imaginations of the world.

In the universe of AMBITION, by whatever grace of the stars, this release by Maya Hart becomes one of those songs. To try to explain it, the track has a myriad of facets going for it -- the song is fresh, branching off from the traditional bubblegum pop Maya had released before, signaling strong growth potential for the breakout star. The production is top-notch, a smooth, energetic cocktail of synths and sonic layers that propels itself with a distinctive, engine-like momentum that is somehow also deeply imbued with the melancholic mood the rest of the song carries.

This nearly pitch-perfect effort generates all the more buzz considering it comes from an apparent out-of-nowhere upstart, some young producer named Josh Matthews, who feels to the general public as though he just materialized out of thin air.

Tying it all together is Maya’s masterful vocals, delivering with more emotional resonance than she’s ever let herself show. The belts still belt, and the notes still hit like they did before, but there’s no pop diva gloss to soften the cracks of this serenade. The nostalgic longing is palpable. It’s real, genuine and gripping like Maya has always been capable of but carefully guarded, especially elevated by Josh’s ear for strategic echoes and balanced levels.

Then there’s that secret simple ingredient, which is frankly something that can’t be taught or contained: the track is a banger. It’s an emotional pop anthem in the vein of Lorde and Taylor Swift, crafted by two people who understand the craft and whose instincts are unmatched -- particularly, as they’re discovering, when they combine their efforts.

But above all, what gives it a mesmerizing, viral impact is its relatability. The lyrics explore the haunted feeling of a love lost, dizzyingly running through all the wistful thoughts as to how it could have been salvaged. In this case, the loss is implied to be platonic, which makes it all the more cutting and all the more universal, but the words are vague enough though to feel applicable to many different situations (like, perhaps, a crumbling foundation and betrayed trust from a former employer). It’s like a musical journey through the five stages of grief in four heart-pounding minutes, and Maya doesn’t shy away from any of it -- the indulgent denial, the bargaining, the painful reconciliation that much fault belongs in her hands.

It’s a wistful, wearied, wired and wondrous homage to the things we had to leave behind -- or watched walk away, or accidentally broke and could never quite fix. Living memory, personified; the push-pull daily battle between aching and acceptance for a long-lost -- bygone -- era.

The video captures all of this as well, interwoven between four separate vignettes. There’s the beach, where we started, and where Maya kicks things off. When the music starts, she lifts her head and locks eyes with the camera, icy blue eyes looking almost silver in the moonlight. She spends time in this setting spinning in the sand, running along the edge of the water (but never quite breaching it), caught both in high-definition and what looks like vintage film reels.

INT. MAYA’S MUSIC VIDEO - HOUSE PARTY - NIGHT

The second scene takes place at a party, amidst the hazy, blue-colored smoke and shadows of silhouettes dancing in a crowded pack. Here, Maya is back to her former styling, seemingly trying her best to lose herself in the indulgence and revelry. Her hair is back to full gloss; her outfit is a replica of one of her pink looks she wore during the “O.M.G.” video, only a periwinkle color due to the icy lighting.

That, and despite her dips into hedonism, her persona in the video can’t quite seem to shake this haunted feeling. In the party scene, she is the only one who breaks the fourth wall (particularly on the pre-chorus, the “Supercut” equivalent of the “in your car, the radio up,” while she dances and throws her arms up with the rest of her peers), and there are a few shots of her looking over her shoulder at empty corners and vacant spaces -- seemingly looking for someone who isn’t there.

For those who know her beyond the pop persona, there are other fun details in this scene as well -- like that Farkle, Yindra, Jade, Josh, ANDREW HALL, and other familiar faces from L.A. are extras in the party dancing around her (and that the sequence was shot in Jade’s coworker Claribel’s apartment).

During one shot, Maya also incidentally spins a globe that’s sitting on the side table… and sends it spiraling off its axis to shatter on the floor.

EXT. MAYA’S MUSIC VIDEO - NEW YORK STREET - NIGHT

The third vignette takes place in New York, easily identified by its concrete structures. The street is plain and uncharacteristically lifeless, lit by the glaring streetlights, the asphalt shimmery from a recent rainfall. The off element in this setting is Maya herself -- she’s dressed in a flowing, faerie-like dress here, moon white, in sharp contrast to the gritty realism of the city. Her hair is wild and less polished, in the middle ground between polished diva shine and bare-bones beach style.

Almost banshee-like, and quite aptly. Maya is almost like a ghost in this scenery, dreamily dancing along the empty street and lost in the rhythm of her memories. Haunting the place she used to call home, the place she and her love shared; the one where she no longer quite belongs.

INT. MAYA’S MUSIC VIDEO - TROPHY CASE - NIGHT

In the final scene of the video, Maya is in a white-walled, claustrophobic room, similar to a museum gallery. Only she’s the only piece of art on display, encased in a life-sized glass chamber. Her outfit here is understated but ornamental, a lacy silver bodysuit with subtle shimmer. A living, breathing trophy, forever on display.

Although she seems eager to escape it, Maya’s actions in the case wouldn’t exactly be classified as a fight. She moves more artfully than urgently, seemingly aware of the fact that her own choices are the reason she’s ended up boxed into this spot.

She can only plaintively acknowledge it for so long, though, as when we hit the second verse and the beat begins to pick up momentum, water begins pouring into the case from above. As the song continues, Maya slogs through the rising shallows, a visual manifestation of how much longer she can keep her head above the consequences of her actions.

The video continues to swap between these four scenes as it progresses, winding towards the bridge --

EXT. MAYA’S MUSIC VIDEO - MALIBU BEACH - NIGHT

The music grows quiet when we hit the bridge, when Maya sings her equivalent of the repetitive, mournful “in my head, in my head, I do everything right.” She sings the first couple of lines back on the beach, this time looking out towards the endless expanse of ocean in front of her.

This time, the shore crests over her bare feet, and she doesn’t run away from it. She doesn’t try to deny it.

Acceptance is closing in. There’s no more time to run.

INT. MAYA’S MUSIC VIDEO - TROPHY CASE - NIGHT

The same can be said for trophy Maya, whose time has run out. She just barely manages to keep her head above water as she escalates the vocals on the end of the bridge, practically choking out the last lyrics before she’s fully submerged.

Wild and fluorescent, come home to my heart!

EXT. MAYA’S MUSIC VIDEO - NEW YORK STREET - NIGHT

Then the music picks up again, barreling towards an emotional, adrenaline-filled finish. City Maya reflects this as she takes off at a run through the empty street, sprinting towards who knows what, but clearly desperate to reach it.

This is intercut with her losing her grip at the house party, the room seeming to spin around her and the faces becoming a blur; she lets loose on the beach, running with the ocean ankle high around her and hair flying loose and unkempt out of her hair ribbon.

At the party, she relinquishes control and lets the room spin behind her, turning back to the camera and blowing powder off her palm towards the lens -- powder that, in fact, turns out to be glitter.

INT. MAYA’S MUSIC VIDEO - TROPHY CASE - NIGHT

In the trophy case, Maya is fully underwater, but somehow that’s given her a strange sense of calm. She moves slowly, serenely, hair splayed around her.

A brand new form of art in the aftermath of destroying the original.

INT. MAYA’S MUSIC VIDEO - HOUSE PARTY - NIGHT

Once the song reaches its climax, it descends into a deliciously drawn-out outro, Maya’s vocals hauntingly echoing while the synths and hums carry the song out with the waves. The video leaves us with reminders of this sense of conclusion, how all things must end -- like an empty party with no more revelers, nothing but fallen streamers and empty cups littering the floor.

EXT. MAYA’S MUSIC VIDEO - NEW YORK STREET - NIGHT

Or the vacant, timeless city street, Maya’s ethereal form no longer present. Instead, there’s an rendering of her left behind in chalk art on the concrete -- another temporary presence, a lingering mark of what was once in a world that will carry on without her regardless.

EXT. MAYA’S MUSIC VIDEO - MALIBU BEACH - OCEAN - NIGHT

And back on the beach, Maya has fully succumbed to the water, letting it wash her away. As we watch from above, she gazes up at us from where she’s floating in the deep blue like Ophelia, numbed to feeling and embracing the cold truth of acceptance.

As the last remnants of the track fade out, Maya closes her eyes, then submerges fully underneath the water. Disappearing with the song like a siren, hidden back in her protective depths.

EXT. MAYA’S MUSIC VIDEO - MALIBU BEACH - NIGHT

In the sand, the waves ebb and wash away the last of her title, taking the track with it.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - NIGHT

That entire pop experience is yet to come, a fully realized vision of this stirring Hail Mary release. Right now, in the present, it’s just been set free into the world, leaving nothing but a looming, uncertain “what if” in its wake.

But they gave it their best. They gave it all of themselves -- the only way either of them know how. Josh and Maya stare at the screen, then lock eyes.

After a beat, Josh gives her a light smile. Despite her new nerves, Maya manages to return it.

May whatever happens, happen.

INT. BRIDGETTE’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

BRIDGETTE GARDNER is scrolling on her computer for job postings when there’s a knock at her apartment door -- an unexpected one, considering the confusion on her face. Given recent events, she figures it might be another family member seeking sudden refuge, so she doesn’t hesitate to answer.

INT. APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT

It’s not family, but it’s adjacent.

Zay is standing on the other side, meeting Bridgette’s eyes uncertainly. For a moment, they just look at each other; they’ve only met the one time, that chance Chubbies encounter, yet they have such a strange, detailed concept of the other that it’s odd to actually face each other in reality.

All thanks to that weird little guy who connects them. That weird guy they both love, unconditionally, which at least gives them a fundamental common ground.

And who must be why he’s there, so Bridgette isn’t going to turn Zay away. She raises her eyebrows.

Bridgette: Zay Babineaux, in the flesh. What a rare sighting. Zay: I’m not that elusive usually, I swear. It’s more -- Bridgette: Circumstantial. Yeah, I can imagine. [ a beat ] I assume you’re here for a reason, and weren’t just randomly cruising the streets of Tribeca?

Correct. Zay nods, clasping his hands together. With that, Bridgette pulls the door open further and invites him in.

INT. BRIDGETTE’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Zay slowly makes his way inside, Bridgette closing the door behind him.

Bridgette: I’d ask how you knew where to find me, but I’m not that naive. [ eyeing him ] Look the same as the last time you saw it?

She clocked him effortlessly -- Zay was admittedly a bit distracted, taking in the apartment and lost in memories of the last time he was there. Maybe tingling just a little bit at the thought… but he pulls it together. And unlike Charlie, he doesn’t get sheepish.

Zay: Just about. Thank you for your service, by the way.

So the guy has a sense of humor, and little to no shame. Bridgette can fuck with that. She arrives back behind her kitchen island, propping her elbows on it.

Bridgette: This question, though, I can’t answer for myself. What can I do for you, Zay Babineaux? Zay: For starters, you don’t have to call me by my full name. Bridgette: Oh, yes I most definitely do. That’s the way I’ve heard you spoken about for the last two years. Zay Babineaux this, Zay Babineaux that. It would be heretical not to give you your full due. [ with Charlie-like emphasis ] You’re Zay Babineaux, didn’t you know?

Okay, now Zay is blushing a bit. He clears his throat, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Zay: He’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. Bridgette: I figured. I didn’t assume you suddenly wanted to be best friends. And based on what I’ve heard lately, you two are much closer again than you used to be. [ knowingly ] And considering he’s not here with you, I am assuming he doesn’t know you’re here. Zay: … correct.

Bridgette is intrigued, though admittedly, she has the sense she already knows what this is about. She crosses her arms, nodding for him to go on.

Zay: Not that I’m intentionally keeping it from him. It’s not like that. I just… if I talked to him about this, I don’t think I’d get very far. [ a beat ] The shit with your mom… I know it’s not cool. Obviously. But -- Bridgette: Let me guess. He’s “fine?”

Zay nods. Bridgette mirrors it. Typical.

Zay: I know he’s not. I know he’s not just chill with it. But I can’t get him to talk about it.

A fact that clearly frustrates him. He wants to be there for him, to be able to help, but it’s like there’s a wall. This infuriating, relentless brick wall, cast in Eleanor’s shadow, the only monument left creating any sort of barriers between them.

Zay: So I was just thinking… you went through this. Or something similar. From your experience, if there was any advice… anything I could keep in mind, or do…

He just wants to make it better. If he can.

Bridgette nods, considering the question. She hasn’t spent a lot of time thinking about how she got through, admittedly -- she prefers not to dwell on it. Not her style. Maybe that saved her, in some ways.

But Charlie…

Bridgette, delicately: He might not ever. Talk about it. I mean, you know my brother, he’s…

She shakes her head wordlessly, crossing her arms tighter across her chest. Although she doesn’t finish the sentence, Zay nods. She’s right, he does know him too.

Charlie is, as she’s said before, not like most people.

Bridgette: I’m sure you won’t be shocked to hear this, but he’s always been like that. Making it “okay.” I’m not talking like Catholic guilt stuff either, but like… he’s built that way. Nothing to do with God. [ a beat ] You ever notice that scar he has on his pointer finger? [ wiggling hers ] The left one?

As if Zay hasn’t memorized every inch of him. He nods again.

Zay: I’ve seen it. Bridgette: He tell you how he got it? [ off his head shake ] When we were little, he got caught in a car door. I was like, ten maybe, so he must’ve been… I don’t know, six? Seven? We were all piling into the minivan to go to Agatha’s dance recital, and it was a fucking ordeal because you try getting five children to get anywhere on time, no matter how drill sergeant of a mom you are. So we’re all clamoring to get into the car, and Rosie is throwing a fit because she doesn’t want to go -- can’t blame her, dance is boring as fuck when you’re four -- and Agatha is sitting behind the driver’s seat so fucking mad at us for making her late when it’s supposed to be her day. Understand, she basically never gets to have it be her day, because she’s the oldest and the wisest and has to do everything right.

For someone who was exiled so long ago, she sure does remember every detail vividly. Zay listens attentively, not interrupting.

Bridgette: And she did -- do everything right -- yet we were still late. Because the rest of us never did anything right. So Rosie is throwing this tantrum, and mom is yelling at her to get in the car, and Charlie is quietly doing his best to guide her in without being asked to, because you get more bees with honey than vinegar or whatever and he was always doing that, even when we were kids. Like, trying to keep the peace, fix everyone’s shit. It wasn’t intentional, I don’t think, it was just like, instinct. Something in his… I don’t know. I sure don’t have it. I wasn’t being helpful, I was just watching from the back seat and complaining and pointing out how annoying everyone else was being. [ beat ] Well finally, mom has enough, and she basically gets dad to like army toss Rosie into the car. And Charlie is right in the middle of it, trying to help but really just getting in the way, and so my parents nor Rosie realize he’s there -- at that point, they’re so consumed with battling each other -- and I’m too consumed with being entertained by how much of a disaster my family is. Until they finally do get Rosie in her seat, and they slam the door shut -- only they didn’t think twice before they did.

Charlie was still there. Still right in the middle of it, a little too close. So whoever slammed that door -- Eleanor, Ambrose, maybe even Rosie, no one remembers who -- incidentally slammed it right on Charlie’s little hand, catching his finger in the process.

Zay winces. Bridgette does too, lightly, deep in the memory of the moment.

Bridgette: It was pandemonium. I mean, full on pandemonium. Charlie screams -- I mean this visceral, blood-curling scream -- and then it was just chaos. Mom was screaming, Rosie was sobbing, my dad is floundering for what to do. There’s blood on the car and on the driveway and all over Charlie’s very nice Gap sweater mom specifically picked out for the recital. And Agatha’s crying, but trying not to act like it, because obviously this is an emergency but like, of course there’s a fucking emergency when it’s supposed to be her day. It’s the Gardner family -- how could it be any other way? [ a beat ] But then I noticed Charlie wasn’t crying. Like, he had to have been, because it’s Charlie and he cries at the wind, and because there were tears on his face. I heard that scream when it happened; I know it hurt. But when I looked at him, this image that’s stuck in my mind, he wasn’t. Everyone else was in hysterics -- again, classic Gardner -- and my baby brother has blood all over his clothes. I mean, this shit was nasty. But he’s not crying.

Being a good storyteller must be classic Gardner too, because Bridgette knows how to capture an audience. Zay is riveted, not at all compelled to break in and offer his own voice.

Bridgette: He just started saying he was fine. Over and over again, plastering this smile on his face, even though he’s cradling his own tiny hand and it’s like, covered in blood. He’s fine. He’s fine. Making sure my mom hears it so she’ll feel better; making sure Rosie hears it so she’ll feel better. Insisting we were gonna be even more late, that we needed to go, because Agatha couldn’t miss her performance. Wanting to make it okay. Wanting it to be okay so badly, it was like, he just turned it off. Just went numb. Like he didn’t even have the finger anymore.

Even though Zay wasn’t there, couldn’t have been, something about the story feels hauntingly familiar. Suppose it doesn’t take knowing Charlie very long to see the echoes of it, to see why Bridgette felt prompted to tell him the story in the first place.

Bridgette: Anyway, his hand was fine, obviously. My dad ended up missing the recital so he could take him to urgent care, and despite all the blood, it apparently wasn’t that much worse than a very bad bruise. Few stitches, and they fixed it right up. Apparently, he got very lucky. [ how’s that for irony ] And the rest of us went on to the recital, as if it was all g -- and wouldn’t you know it, somehow, we actually got there on time. But I never forgot that. Unsurprisingly, given all the blood, but… the look on his face after hearing that scream. How he just kept saying he was fine, really wanting us to believe it. Wanting it to be true, so everything could be okay. [ contemplative ] To be honest, sometimes when I talk to him now, it’s like I still see that face.

Zay frowns. He can picture it. It’s too easy to picture it -- and that hurts. It hurts to recognize that this has been the way of the world Charlie’s whole existence, to acknowledge that there can’t -- and won’t -- be a simple solution. There maybe won’t ever be one at all.

Still, he has to try. He’ll do anything.

Zay, quiet: What can I do?

Bridgette sighs, grappling with the same thought. Knowing there’s no simple fix either, considering she lived some version of it too… and yet, an answer arrives in her mind anyway. A stunningly simple one, if imperfect.

Bridgette: Honestly? Just be there for him. Whether it’s good, whether it’s bad. If he wants to talk about it, if he needs to, he will. He trusts you more than anyone -- which I’m sure you already know -- so if he’ll break it down for anyone, it’ll probably be you. But even if he doesn’t, having you to endure it with is better than nothing.

Not just Zay, in fact, but all of them. When Bridgette was sent to exile, she was truly on her own.

Charlie has something she never did -- a community. A place to turn to, friends to lean on, another family to embrace.

Bridgette: Whether or not he ever talks about what happened; regardless of how he ends up healing. He has you all.

So her advice really is that simple. Hold each other close. Be that community. Be there for him, in all the little and big ways he possibly can.

Bridgette: You have no idea how much that matters.

INT. CHARLIE’S APARTMENT - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - DAY

Because no, they’re right, Charlie isn’t fine. Not actually. Not when the mask is off, when there’s nothing to distract him and the good things populating his life have left the forefront of his mind. We finally see that loud and clear when he’s alone again, staring at his phone.

Open on his thread with his mother. Where he’s sent texts -- some conversational, others pleading -- and they’ve all gone unanswered. Just like that. Like it was so simple to cut his cord. Like all that love he thought they shared never mattered at all.

It’s not okay. Charlie is doing his best to pretend it is, to hold it together and cover up the blood when he’s with everyone else, but that doesn’t last forever. It’s not working now, as he stares down at the dead thread and tries but fails to hold back the tears glossing his eyes.

Charlie: [ under his breath ] Shoot.

He swipes at his eyes, willing them to go away. He pockets his phone to hide from it again and presses his palms to his eyes, taking a deep breath, but it doesn’t do any good. The waterworks are coming. He can’t seem to stop them on his own.

There’s only one thing strong enough to help hammer the dam back into place -- the performance. The determination to make it okay for everyone else, so they don’t have to worry about him. That’s what Lucas incidentally gifts him when he returns to the apartment, appearing in the doorway over Charlie’s shoulder. He hesitates, realizing Charlie is having a moment, suddenly thinking he should make himself scarce again. He’s never been great about comforting people, especially when there are tears.

But too late. Charlie glances to the side and realizes he’s not alone, jumping and exhaling a cuss under his breath. He spins away and swiftly wipes at his eyes, Lucas’s presence enough to stem the tears.

Lucas grimaces, looking sheepish.

Lucas: Um, I can come back… Charlie: No! No, um --

Charlie clears his throat, flicking at his eyes one more time and pulling himself together. He’s had a lot of practice over the years, so he’s pretty fast at recovery. He turns back around to face him, smile back on his face. As if the last couple minutes never happened.

Charlie: It’s all good. What’s up? Lucas: … Just came by to grab the last of the boxes. Charlie: Oh, right. For sure.

INT. CHARLIE’S APARTMENT - DAY

Charlie jogs a bit to pass Lucas and moves into the kitchen, stacking a smaller box into a bigger one and pulling it off the countertop. He hands it over once Lucas catches up.

Charlie: I finished going through everything last night, so I think this should be it. Zay helped. Lucas: Willingly? Charlie: Let’s just say I owed him one.

Lucas doesn’t want any more detail than that. He glances into the boxes in his arms, then frowns slightly. He sifts through the contents lightly with one hand.

Lucas: Doesn’t look like he did a very good job. [ tilting the box ] Aren’t these utensils yours? And the can opener. I don’t think most of these are actually -- Charlie: Oh, yeah. No, I put those in there. Lucas: They’re yours. Charlie: They were more like ours. Lucas: You paid for them. Charlie: But we both used them. Splitting them evenly made sense. [ a beat ] And you know, I’ll be fine. Without them. I’m not making nearly as big a jump as you, so I’ve got plenty of resources. And Columbia will be feeding me for at least a year on my current scholarship. Going out to California, you know…

It feels like he’ll need it more. Charlie wants him to have them. Not because of the money -- though that is a factor neither of them are ignorant of -- but because it’s the least he can do. If he can give him any support in this huge jump, he wants to do it. Spoken or not.

And normally Lucas would bristle at that, a natural instinct to resist any sort of pity… but for some reason, he doesn’t now. Not this time. Maybe he’s getting soft, or just tired of the fight; maybe he’s starting to come around to the idea of doing good just because you can.

Or maybe because despite being the most charitable person he knows, Charlie’s kindness doesn’t feel like charity.

So Lucas shrugs, accepting the boxes.

Lucas: Okay, cool. Thanks.

Charlie smiles. The two of them start to move out of the kitchen, Charlie stuffing his hands into his pockets.

Charlie: Are you excited? I know you’ve still got a few weeks, and all…

Lucas pauses, seriously contemplating the question. Despite the intrusive thoughts he can’t seem to shake off about certain aspects of the change…

Lucas: Yeah. Yeah, I think I am. I mean, it’s… it’s gonna be different. A lot of different. Charlie: Yeah. Lucas: But I don’t know… I’m trying to be optimistic, or whatever. Instead of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Charlie: [ with a sheepish laugh ] I get that. But that’s good, you should be. Excited. I know you worked really hard for this. You deserve it. Lucas: Right. [ a beat ] Sorry it means I have to ditch early, though.

Charlie waves off his apology. No big deal. He’s basically just running out the lease for the summer anyway, since he’ll be moving into Columbia housing in the fall, and his dad already assured him he’d keep the rent afloat until then. Lucas should have no qualms about doing what he has to do.

Lucas: That’s good. [ with a cough ] I’m sure Zay won’t miss me hanging around, anyway.

Presuming he’s going to be around much more often… Charlie can’t help but laugh.

Charlie: No, probably not. [ sincere ] I will, though.

Oh. Well… Lucas isn’t sure how to respond to that. Charlie looks like he wasn’t exactly prepared to admit that, either, awkwardly scrambling to brush past it.

Charlie: But, you know, no big deal. You’ll be back to visit before we know it, so. I’m sure none of us will have to miss you for long.

Smooth. Lucas manages a smile, though it’s thin.

Anywho… it’s getting a little too sweet in here for comfort, which means it’s probably time to go. Lucas clears his throat and claims he better head out, Charlie nodding and taking a couple steps back.

All there is left to do is walk away. Lucas starts to do just that… then something stops him. He turns back around.

Lucas: Could I ask you about something?

Charlie is a bit surprised, but he nods.

Charlie: Of course. Lucas: It’s… it’s kind of personal. If that’s cool.

A little more intimidating, perhaps… but it’s fine. They’ve literally taken down a corrupt enterprise together this year, and Charlie has done much braver things. He nods again.

Charlie: Sure. What’s up?

Lucas places the box back down on the coffee table, though he still keeps a comfortable distance between them. Easier that way, when the topic he wants to broach feels so close to the vest.

Lucas: You and Zay… um. [ clearing his throat ] Riley gave me the low-down about you guys. The whole… saga. Charlie: [ with slight amusement ] Oh, yeah? Bet she’s been waiting ages to do that. Lucas: She kept it tight-lipped the whole time, I swear, until you all… you know, did your thing. Last month or so. Then when I expressed surprise… she basically imploded and had to tell me absolutely everything.

Charlie laughs brighter at that. Given everything Riley put up with, all the secrets she held and diplomacy she brokered for the two of them, he doesn’t blame her. Lucas points out that even if she had tried to clue him in on it, it probably would’ve been futile -- he really isn’t that great at picking up stuff like that.

Charlie: It’s all good. I think Riley’s earned the right to vent. Lucas: She’s happy for you, though. Like, really, really happy. [ a beat ] When she mentioned, um… she told me about what happened junior year. Why you left, beyond taking the fall for me. Charlie: Oh. [ sheepish ] Sorry. I know that probably takes some of the heroism out of my actions back then -- though I am seriously glad I was able to help. Lucas: Please. No judgment here. Honestly, it makes a lot more sense now than it did then.

But his saving grace is not what he’s thinking about anyway. He’s more focused on the Zay of it all -- if Charlie was so close to him, cared about him that much, how he could’ve ever fathomed actually walking away from him. How he could’ve ever come to the conclusion that it was the right thing to do, let alone actually done it.

Charlie: Again, it wasn’t all selfless. Fear is a really helpful motivator for action, good or bad. Lucas: Still. I know that couldn’t have been easy. Especially since… I mean, it wasn’t just Zay you were leaving behind.

No. No, it sure wasn’t. Charlie nods, melancholy shading his features. It’s not necessarily a time he likes to look back on… but Lucas brought it up for a reason. He wanted the chance to know…

Lucas: Was it worth it? You think? Letting it all go?

Charlie exhales through his lips, thinking about it. Really big ask… and even in spite of that, Charlie knows the answer. Hard as it is to believe, the answer is plain and simple.

Charlie: Yeah. It was. For me. [ a beat ] I mean, again, it sucked. Like really, really sucked. Definitely one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. And that’s not just about Zay, you know, it’s… it was all of it. How much there was to lose; how much had to change.

Lucas nods, shy but attentive. Genuinely wanting to hear what he has to say, even if it takes him a minute to arrive there.

Charlie: And I didn’t go about it the right way. That was part of the problem. It wasn’t really the leaving that screwed everything up, it was the shock. Like, if I had told Zay what I was planning, if I had communicated about it, I don’t think it would’ve been as bad as it was… but I don’t know that for sure. I can’t ever know, beyond what’s happened now. Lucas: Right. Charlie: So, yeah. It was awful. But even so… [ sure ] I don’t regret it. I wouldn’t change it. Lucas: … no? Charlie: No. I don’t think so. More and more these days, I just keep thinking… I got here. You know? I had to go through all that, the things I did, to get where I am right now. Where it’s better; where I’m better. [ with a sigh ] Because the truth is, nice as it was having each other then, I wasn’t really there. I couldn’t be there for Zay. Not the way I wanted to be; not the way he deserved.

The journey wasn’t easy, but they went through it for a reason. They had to learn things, grow through the adversity, to get to the place they are now. Where it’s healthy, and strong; where they can love each other properly, side-by-side and eyes wide open.

Charlie: Because all that had to change, yeah, but so did I. I had to change. That’s the thing. And if I hadn’t, if I hadn’t made those choices, I don’t think I would’ve been able to. To grow the way I needed to -- Zay either, I think, whether he’d admit it or not. I loved him then, but at that time, letting him go was the way to love him. I just wish I’d been able to articulate it better.

But all that being said, that’s it. That’s the one thing he’d change about the whole thing -- communication. Getting to tell Zay how he felt, explain his reasoning, make the choice out of pure compassion rather than cowardice.

Otherwise… well, it’s hard to argue that things didn’t turn out the way they were meant to. But even if they hadn’t gone how he’d hoped…

Charlie: It would’ve been okay. In the end. I’m extremely lucky it worked out the way it did, and I’m not taking that for granted, but if it hadn’t… I would’ve been okay. Because Zay would be happy, with purpose, doing what he was meant to do. You know? That would be good enough for me. Better than having held on too tight, for too long, and burning the both of us down.

Lucas absorbs all of that, trying to comprehend it. Trying to wrap his head around the constant and ever-growing complexities of love; struggling to find sense in something that, perhaps, is inherently nonsensical.

What he takes away from Charlie’s honesty remains to be seen, but he thanks him for it regardless. Both of them know they’re shitty with words, and the vulnerable stuff, so it’s more than appreciated.

Charlie: Of course. Any time.

He means it. Lucas knows he does.

With that, there really is nothing left to say… Lucas clears his throat and thanks Charlie again. When that doesn’t seem like quite enough, he takes a few steps forward and extends a hand. Charlie glances at it, then scoffs a laugh, smiling as he takes it and clasps their hands together. A hand shake, warm and firm, a fitting enough display of camaraderie for two people who are still figuring out exactly how to speak that language comfortably.

For now, it’s just enough. They let the handhold linger for a moment, then Lucas pulls away, heading for the door. Charlie watches him go, then dips his head, crossing his arms. Glancing back towards his room, knowing this place is about to feel a lot more empty than it did before.

The tears might already be threatening to make a reappearance, but Lucas halts them before they can truly start. He glances back over his shoulder once he’s opened the door, remembering how he found Charlie when he came in. Realizing there’s more he should say, just in case he doesn’t get another chance.

Lucas: Charlie.

Charlie lifts his head, meeting his eyes.

Charlie: Yeah? Lucas: Doing your own thing works for you. [ a beat ] Anyone who can’t see that isn’t worth it.

He means it. Charlie knows he does.

And that means everything. Charlie laughs a little in spite of himself, eyes glossy but holding it together. He nods, grateful.

Lucas returns it, offering one last smile before he disappears and shuts the door behind him.

INT. NYU - DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT

Riley is paying her last visit to the NYU theater, Ghost now officially closed. She’s gathering the remainder of her items from the dressing room, all set to go in the dress she bought at the thrift shop.

Once she’s got her things, she takes one last look around at the space. It’s bittersweet, looking at it, figuring it’ll be her last time. But ultimately, she’s not sad. She’s not going to miss it.

Sometimes, you’re more than ready for a goodbye.

INT. NYU - BACKSTAGE HALLWAY - NIGHT

When steps outside the dressing room, she’s startled when she almost rams into someone else.

Riley: Oh my God, sorry -- Evan: I’m so sorry --

EVAN SCOTT. Of course. Once they realize who they bumped into, they both laugh, a bit bashful.

Evan: Fancy meeting you here. Riley: Ditto. I wouldn’t be here so late, normally, but I’ve been running around all day. Wanted to grab my things before they tossed it all in an incinerator or something. Evan: Like minds. Which, by the way, reminds me --

He slings his backpack off his shoulder, unzipping it and retrieving something from inside. Riley eyes him curiously, eyebrows raised.

A lone rose. Pretty, pale pink, just a tad wilted from being stuffed in his backpack. He clears his throat.

Evan: Sorry it looks like that. I was going to give it to you closing night, but I wasn’t able to catch you before you left.

Wow. Riley takes it, tenderly, turning it over in her fingers. Not sure what to do with the kindness.

Riley: Thanks. That’s really sweet, Evan. Evan: Well, I just wanted to make sure you knew how appreciated you were. I feel very lucky to have gotten to be your co-star. [ with a hopeful smile ] Hopefully not for the last time.

That’s a lovely sentiment… but unlikely. Not if Riley’s future goes as planned. And Evan has been so kind to her, such a good friend, she feels the need to give him fair warning.

Riley: Unfortunately, I don’t know that we’ll have much more luck in that department. [ off his frown ] I’m not staying at NYU. Evan: Oh. Whoa. For real? Riley: Yeah. I’m sorry. Not to burst the celebratory, end-of-semester bubble. Evan: No, no, that’s -- that’s chill. Just… damn. That sucks. Riley: Not really. [ with a shrug ] It’s the right choice for me. I’ve had fun, and everything, but I’m just… not sure I’m all about this. Not the way I should be. Evan: Oh. Riley: I’ve got a lot of other interests I’m really excited to explore. [ off his smile ] And California, I mean, that’s going to be a whole new playground. Plenty to keep me busy. Evan: California? Riley: Where Lucas is going. He’s going to UC Davis. I think I told you he’s studying veterinary medicine?

The smile is gone from Evan’s face. Riley seems so cool about the whole idea, so unbothered, but this all just feels… wrong, from his perspective. Riley is talented. She’s good at this. And as far as he could tell, from the past year, she has a passion for it. She’s never expressed to him that wasn’t all that into it.

Lucas, on the other hand, made his apathy pretty clear. And suddenly she’s going to follow in his footsteps instead?

Riley doesn’t give him the chance to rain on her parade, however. She claims she has to get going -- very important plans tonight -- but thanks him again for the flower. She wishes him the absolute best with next semester and beyond; she’s sure he’s going to do amazing things.

Before she gets away, though, Evan has to say something. He has to do something, lest he wonder about it for the rest of his life.

Evan: Riley! [ when she turns around ] You were good. You know? [ lingering on her ] Really, really good.

Just in case she didn’t know it. Just in case someone in her life has been telling her otherwise lately. Riley blinks, surprised by the weight behind his declaration… then she smiles, accepting the compliment.

Riley: You too. [ with a wave ] See you around.

With that, Evan lets her go, watching her push through the doors. Hoping, deep down, that those last words are true. That maybe she won’t be going so far away -- that he’ll be seeing her around plenty more. That this isn’t the end of the line.

Then he sighs, shaking his head and heading in the other direction.

INT. LA APARTMENT - MAYA’S BEDROOM - DAY

The sun is setting through the window, painting Maya’s bedroom an even rosier hue of pink-orange as she finishes unpacking her things. Her song is out there now, but she’s made a point of not looking at her phone. For a little while longer, she wants to avoid knowing. She wants to pretend like her career still has a heartbeat, like it’s in her hands.

Farkle appears in her doorway a few moments later, lightly knocking on the frame. She looks up from where she’s seated on her bed.

Maya: Hi. Farkle: Hey.

Bizarrely, that’s more than they’ve said to each other all week. It’s felt wrong, being so out of touch. Maya pats the spot next to her, inviting him in.

He takes it, managing a weak smile as he comes to settle down next to her. He looks exhausted, and she knows it’s not just from the travel.

She wishes it was.

Farkle: I listened to your song. Maya: Yeah? Hit me with your best hot takes. Go on, I can handle them. Farkle: Nothing piping on the stove this time. [ sincere ] It was good, Maya. Real damn good. Best you’ve done by far.

Coming from him, that’s saying something. He loves her, but they’re both divas -- they wouldn’t offer a compliment if the other didn’t earn it. And given that he knows what the subject matter was probably about, he knows how difficult it must’ve been for her to write it, let alone share it with the world.

Maya: Thanks. [ after a beat ] Are you okay?

She knows what’s been going on in his world lately too. Farkle takes a deep breath, looking like he’s going to power through… then he cracks a bit, lip trembling. He shakes his head.

Farkle: Not really. No. [ off her frown ] It was stupid. The whole thing -- this whole year -- it’s been stupid. I’ve been stupid. I should’ve known that… [ with a scoff ] That was never going to happen for me. Who am I kidding?

Maya frowns deeper. She may not feel attraction to him, not that way, but he is so worth loving. She wishes he could see himself the way she does; the way so many of them do.

Farkle: But it’s… I mean, whatever. Lesson learned. I wasted so much time on this shit, when I could’ve been… [ defiantly ] Not anymore. I’m done with it. I’ve got more important things to focus on.

The dream awaits. The only thing he used to care about -- and maybe some part of his manic, blazer-wearing days got it right. Maya isn’t sure she agrees with that take, but if it’s what he needs to do to heal right now, she isn’t going to stop him.

Regardless, he’ll still have her.

Maya: It’s been a long year. Farkle: Fucking crazy. Maya: Yeah. But in spite of it all, you know, it did teach me one thing. Farkle: Sometimes less “haute” is more?

Maya snorts, lightly shoving his arm. At least they both still have it in them to joke. Farkle smiles lightly, appreciating the chance to poke fun.

Then Maya grows serious again. She blinks the tears out of her eyes, but they come back just as fast, as she reaches down and takes his hand.

Maya: You, Farkle Minkus, are the love of my life. I’m not ever taking that for granted. [ a little shaky ] And you are absolutely, unequivocally stuck with me.

She taps his hand with her free one pointedly with each word. Farkle smiles, closer to genuine this time. He squeezes her hand in return.

Farkle: Wouldn’t have it any other way.

Before either of them get too emotional, Farkle excuses himself, claiming he needs to unpack too. Maya lets him go, understanding the desire not to dig too deep right now. Sometimes, it’s necessary just to stuff it down and let it simmer for a while.

Once he’s gone, however, her expression shifts. She gets to her feet, opening her side table drawer.

And retrieving Isa’s letter. She flips it over, giving it a long, contemplative look. Then she glances over her shoulder, towards where Farkle left.

After another beat of hesitation, she walks over to her vanity. She pulls forward a pink lockbox -- a jewelry and memory box, it looks like -- pulling it open. She pries the top layer of jewelry away to reveal the bottom of the box, where she keeps small mementos -- letters, playbill excerpts, postcards, the like. More sentimental garbage than Maya usually lets others see.

She places the letter inside it, underneath all the rest… and then decisively shuts the box. Burying it underneath the jewels, hiding it away and hoping she’ll be able to forget about it. Hoping all of them will be able to forget, with enough time.

Before she can second-guess her choice, her phone buzzes on the nightstand. Without thinking, she answers it.

Maya: Hello? Josh: Did you see the numbers?! Holy shit, are you seeing this? Maya: Huh? Josh: “Bygone.” Maya, it’s blowing up. It’s hitting. Andrew: [ faint in the background ] Fuck yeah, it is! This song is the real fucking deal, Hart!

Adrenaline is pumping through her veins again. Maya keeps him on the phone, listening to the symphony of his and Andrew’s cheerful celebration as she pulls open her laptop and looks for herself.

He wasn’t kidding. Not only is the song gaining traction, the reactions are something else. People flooding social media to talk about how hard the song hit them, how much it speaks to something they’re going through. Mini-essays about the friends it reminds them of, the loves that fell apart, all to a banging fucking soundtrack. TikTok videos of people literally crying and screaming along to the lyrics, already having memorized them in the span of a couple days.

This is what they needed. This is exactly the impact Maya was hoping for.

And they got it, because she made something true. They created something real.

Josh: We did it, Blondie. We actually fucking did it.

They did. Maya grins in disbelief, breaking into laughter and falling back against her pillows.

Whatever happens next, seems like she and Josh are far from becoming bygone legends any time soon.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - NIGHT

Riley is just finishing up tying her hair into a French braid over her shoulder when there’s a knock at the door. She smiles and slides over in her socked feet to answer it, stepping back to let Lucas inside.

Riley: I don’t know why you knocked. You could’ve used your key. Lucas: Oh… yeah. Guess I forgot.

He isn’t sure why he didn’t either. New instinct, maybe. He gives her a smile, though it’s a bit hollow. She carries on normal as ever, explaining that she figured they could just order in dinner wise once they’re finished chatting. Or during, whatever works -- but she thought actually starting the conversations would be a wiser move.

Lucas can agree on that much. He wipes his palms on his jeans.

Lucas: Actually, um, there’s something I want to talk to you about, too. Riley: Oh. Okay. Great.

She plops down onto the couch, gesturing for him to come join her. Comfortable, like usual. Lucas obliges, though he’s uncharacteristically stiff. Uncharacteristic around her, at least. He also keeps a bit more distance between them than usual, though Riley doesn’t notice.

Lucas: So, uh -- Riley: So I’ve been --

They both start, then stop, awkwardly laughing at how they talked over each other. Since he had the wherewithal to start talking first, for once, Riley gives him the floor. She gives him an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

Riley: It’s fine. You go. You go first. Lucas: Um… um, yeah. Okay.

He says that… but then he finds it’s hard to speak. He wants to say this -- needs to, more accurately -- but looking into her eyes it’s like the words evaporate. Fuck, this is harder than he thought.

Well, that’s not true. He knew this would be hard. He never doubted it would be.

Riley can sense his nerves. She tilts her head, reaching out to touch his hand.

Riley: It’s okay. Whatever it is. We can talk about it. You know you can talk to me about anything. Lucas: Yeah. Yeah, I know that.

Riley nods. Go on. Lucas takes another deep breath… then looks at the floor, down at his shoes, because it’s too difficult to look at her and try to get these words out of his mouth.

Lucas: With all the packing and prepping for California, I’ve… I’ve been thinking a lot about it. The move, and stuff. Riley: That’s good. Me too. Lucas: Yeah. I know. [ wait, don’t say that ] I’ve been thinking about it, and… it’s gonna be a lot of distance. Between us. Like, a lot. Riley: I know. But it’ll be okay. I’m not worried. [ a beat ] In fact, I --

Lucas doesn’t give her the chance to elaborate. He cuts her off, cascading into the rest of his point now that he’s finally nudged himself off the cliff.

Lucas: We’re both going to have so much stuff going on. Important things that we need to focus on, for our… our futures, you know. Our careers, and… and stuff. And I don’t know that -- I don’t know if it’s a good idea. For us to… do that. Have that distance.

Riley hesitates, not sure she’s understanding what he’s saying. She thinks she does… if they’re on the same page… but then why does he sound so scared?

Riley: Me too. I feel that way too. That’s why -- Lucas: I don’t want to do this anymore, Riley.

Nope. Very not on the same page.

Whatever those words are that he just said, it almost doesn’t sound real. Riley blinks, staring at him. She couldn’t have heard him right.

Riley: What?

Power through, Lucas. He has to do this. He has to. He wills his voice to stay firm.

Lucas: I don’t want to do this anymore. With how things are going to go… I can’t. [ meeting her eyes ] I need space.

That can’t mean what she thinks it means. He can’t be serious. But he’s looking at her, dead in the eyes, so he must be. When they had their fight a year ago, when he was ghosting her for different -- understandable -- reasons, she asked him to be upfront with her if he ever wanted things to end. He assured her that wasn’t the case at the time; that he wouldn’t put her through that kind of drawn-out guessing game.

Apparently, he meant it. Because he’s not being vague now, and there was absolutely no preface to this. Riley shakes her head slightly.

Riley: Are you -- are you saying -- Lucas: I’m done. With this. [ not quite selling it ] I want to break up.

Riley is stunned. Frozen solid, in complete disbelief, like the world is going numb around her and she’s caught in this moment of time forever. Lucas looking at her, using his voice and his words, and telling her it’s over.

It’s over. He’s done.

It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make any sense. Things have been so… and he’s been so… and they’re… Riley can’t wrap her head around it. She genuinely, literally can’t process it. Her eyes start to gloss over, as much as she’s intrinsically trained to hold it together when her throat starts to hurt like this.

Riley: I -- I don’t understand. Lucas: I’m sorry. I know it’s sudden. Riley: We’re -- we’re good. We’re fine. Lucas: I know. I know we are. Now. Riley: So why would you -- [ rising in pitch ] is this really happening right now?

It feels hysterical. She feels hysterical, like this is some awful nightmare she can’t seem to blink herself awake from. Her face crinkles, seconds away from crumpling, and Lucas frowns automatically at the sight of it. He knew this would hurt. He knew it wouldn’t be easy.

But God. Not like this.

Lucas: It’s going to be okay. Really. Riley: [ shaking her head frantically ] No -- Lucas: Yeah. It’s going to be okay, because you’re going to be fine. You’re going to be incredible -- you are incredible. You’ll be fine without me. Riley: But I want to be with you.

Well, how do you argue with that, Lucas? He can’t, not convincingly, but he tries his best. In spite of how his voice is trembling; despite how his throat is aching just as much as hers.

Lucas: You’ll get over it. It’ll get easier. Riley: I don’t understand. I don’t get why this is happening -- Lucas: I know. I’m sorry. Riley, at a loss: Why? Why are you sorry? Why don’t you just -- [ broken ] I love you.

She’s going to crack him. He shakes his head lightly in response.

Lucas: I love you too. Riley, frantic: Then why? Why is this happening?

He can’t answer that. Not in a way that she’ll accept; not in a way that makes sense to anyone but himself. But the risks are too great, the fear too strong, and he just can’t live with those possibilities.

So instead of trying to explain, he does his best to soften the blow. Because that’s all his has to offer, all he has left -- he can’t give her what she actually wants.

He can’t give her anything other than goodbye.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Death And All His Friends” as performed by Coldplay || Performed by AMBITION Ensemble (starting at 00:40 up to 3:30)

The gentle music underscores as Lucas pulls Riley close, wrapping her in a tight embrace. Trying to make his words okay; trying to make the shock hurt less. They’re going to be fine. This is for the best. Everything will be okay.

Lucas: You’ll be okay. It’s going to be okay. [ shaky into her shoulder ] You’ll be great.

Without him. That’s the part Riley can’t understand. She lets him hold her, still too shocked to move and eyes wide and glassy…

Until it hits her. He’s serious. This is really happening. He wouldn’t do this to her unless he meant it; he wouldn’t hold her this tight unless he was actually planning to let her go.

He’s leaving her behind.

Riley exhales out a sob and returns the embrace, not sure what else to possibly do. Like if she grips him tight enough, it won’t be true. He won’t be able to slip away. Trembling and descending into tears, Riley tucks her head into his shoulder, shaking it in protest against his skin.

It seems like it physically pains Lucas to experience it, but he holds steady. He screws his eyes shut and doesn’t give in, knowing in his heart it’s absolutely crucial. He’s doing this for her; he’s saving her.

She’s not going to end up like Grace.

Lucas, croaky: It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. You’ll be okay…

Otherwise, what was it all for?

As the harmonious blend of the ensemble joins the orchestra…

Just be patient and don’t worry Don’t worry

The guitar bleeds in and the music begins its crescendo, taking us away from Riley and Lucas --

EXT. CENTRAL PARK - DAY

And into our final montage, giving our ensemble their last goodbyes of the season.

We start with Charlie, who is walking back from the upper west side through Central Park after making a stop at Columbia to drop off some paperwork. He’s headed back in the direction of his apartment, but when he reaches the center…

He finds himself stopping. Looking across the green, through the trees towards the east side. The paths he’s walked a thousand times; the ones that once led home.

The ones he can’t walk again. Not anymore. This is his new life now. Where he’s an exile, banished from the ivory tower. He can go anywhere he wants -- just not home.

But that’s not home anymore. Maybe it never was. It’s not where he feels safe, and seen. It’s not where love feels unconditional, no matter who he desires or how long he lets his hair grow.

He’ll build new homes. He’s already on his way. At least he’s himself. At least he’s free.

So Charlie swallows the ache, and keeps moving forward.

INT. JFK INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - TERMINAL - DAY

For Jade, her forward is at the airport, where she’s gearing up to head back to Los Angeles. She takes turns exchanging hugs with each of her brothers, then her parents, assuring them she’ll text as soon as she lands.

Then, she turns to Nigel. There faithfully as ever, letting her go back across the continent but not afraid of what it might mean. Jade doesn’t seem nervous either -- when she pulls him in to give him a kiss, long and lingering but ever so sweet, there doesn’t seem to be any doubt between the two of them.

They’ll do their best, no matter where the other is. That’s all they can ask of each other. Whether that can stand the test of time (and distance), well, only the future knows.

When they pull apart, Jade pulls something from her pocket, taking care to pin it delicately to the lapel of Nigel’s jacket. When she pulls back to smooth out the garment, we see it clearly.

The Ophelia pin. The one from Shakespeare camp that he gave her during the summer, after they had to spend unwanted time apart. A symbol that he would have rather been with her -- that even though they’ll be fine, and they’ll have fun on their own, it would always be preferable to be together.

Now, that sentiment goes both ways. Nigel smiles at it, then her, before pulling her into another kiss.

They pull apart for good when Jade’s brothers start mocking them, causing Nigel to blush and Jade to roll her eyes. He steps back to stand with her family and she kicks her rolling suitcase into gear, giving all of them a wave and an air kiss as she heads off towards security.

INT. TURNER ACADEMY - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

Vanessa is walking into a new phase of her own, making her way towards a new studio on the second floor of the dance building with her duffle on her shoulder. Apprehensive, but determined, too.

When she walks through the door, GIA VALDEZ is there… and so is HENRIK VON FELDT. Along with the other soon-to-be sophomores in the Turner dance major, meeting with their new classmates who just got their invitations to transfer in the last week of the semester.

Including Vanessa. She and Gia will be joining the ranks of Turner Academy for real, after the most challenging semester in the world.

She made it.

Henrik recognizes her when she enters, launching into cheers and gesturing for her to come join him with some of their peers. Welcoming her into the fold without missing a beat. There doesn’t seem to be any doubt amongst them that she’s earned it.

Vanessa smiles.

INT. JUPITER RECORDS - HALLWAY - DAY

Yindra marches bravely into the unknown too, making her way down a long corridor in the upper realms of the Jupiter Records building. She’s being led by a receptionist, who is bringing her to the conference room where the final assembly of the new girl group is meeting.

Once they arrive, the receptionist gives her a smile and steps back to gesture her through the doors. Last chance to turn around…

She doesn’t run. Yindra takes a deep breath and steels her resolve, putting on her best performer’s smile as she steps past them and into the conference room.

INT. JUPITER RECORDS - CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY

And here is where we find the executives, already in attendance with the other four members of this brand new girl group. They are Kimmy, ALEENA SAYYID, TABITHA FLORES and -- in an unexpected twist -- SLOANE SHARPE. Perhaps the procedures and rules weren’t as cut and dry as they seemed, if the talent was promising enough.

And now, Yindra. Completing the set. They all look at her when she enters. Aleena smirks lightly, relieved; Tabitha sizes her up. Sloane is impossible to read, apparently by nature. Kimmy gives her a grin, once again genuinely happy to see her.

Welcome to the foreseeable future. Yindra keeps her grin intact and greets the room, going to take the empty seat at the table between Aleena and Sloane. The former gives her a light elbow nudge when she settles in, before the executives begin their presentation.

Yindra pulls the binder on the table in front of her closer, reading the cover insert.

Welcome to BitterSweet.

INT. NYU - ADVISOR’S OFFICE - DAY

Bittersweet could describe Isa as they wait for their course advisor in their office, preparing to re-enroll in the film program after their semester off. To kill the time, they’ve ended up listening to Maya’s latest song on their phone -- it was only a matter of time until they caved.

And it’s good. It’s so good, exactly as powerful as Maya needed it to be… even more so because Isa knows the feeling. It’s relatable to so many people, as they’ve already proven, but Isa especially, because they know they’re exactly what she’s singing about. The bygone era they probably can’t ever get back; the friendship they broke to pieces in their bloody hands without ever meaning to.

They may have lost it, the way they knew it, but that doesn’t mean the feelings go away. It doesn’t mean the fondness, and confliction, and forever feeling of being tied by the cosmic string will ever ebb.

Right now, it’s pulling Isa into action. They doubt Maya needs the help, but just in case, they copy the link to the video and draft an email to any of the contacts they have in the industry. The ones Valerie connected them with before her passing; the ones Zachary has mentioned in the last few months. Just to put Maya on their radar, to give her that little boost for her passion, in whatever way they can.

“Hi,

My mom, Valerie De La Cruz, was a huge fan of this young artist. Based on this, I’m sure you can see why. Keep an eye out for her -- she’s going to be worth watching.”

They close their phone and remove their earbuds when their advisor returns, focusing on their own future instead.

INT. JUPITER RECORDS - EXECUTIVE OFFICE - DAY

Isa was right about one thing -- Maya doesn’t need much assistance right now. Her gamble with Josh paid off, and Floyd’s favor with Jupiter Records came through. They’re more than excited about their potential as a duo, and individuals, and are eager to sign them to a contract with the label.

Executive: Mr. Minkus’s lawyers already reviewed it, so I assume you can trust it’s above board.

That they can. All there is left to do is sign it. Josh takes the pen from the executive… then glances at Maya next to him.

He gives her a smirk. She returns it, that spark back in her eyes.

After a moment, he hands her the pen. She should go first. Maya reaches for it --

INT. JONATHAN TURNER’S OFFICE - DAY

And then we’re looking at a different pen, currently twirling in Farkle’s nimble fingers. He’s meeting with JONATHAN TURNER, who has officially extended an offer to be his agent. He’s done incredible things in his first year at USC, showing his commitment to the craft, and Turner sees immense potential in him. It would be a privilege to work together and build something out of his new career.

All he has to do is sign on the dotted line.

So now he has to choose. Is he going to turn away from New York, leave the past behind, and fully commit to the whirl of Hollywood? Embrace the LA lifestyle, begin his climb to the top, with or without what he fled from on the streets of New York? No matter how badly part of him still wishes he could turn back the clock and do it all over again?

Yes. He is. There’s no more time to waste looking back; no more passion to contemplate blowing away for love that never lasts. He isn’t built for it, clearly -- it’s always destined to crumble in his hands.

The dream, he can handle. He was always meant to fall in love with the dream. If this is the place he’s meant to do it, so be it.

No, I don't wanna battle from beginning to end I don't want a cycle of recycled revenge

Farkle leans forward and signs the contract, brimming with determination… and maybe just a hint of spite.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - DAY

Zay finishes writing down dates on his calendar, marking the first day that rehearsals end and he officially embarks on the tour at the end of August.

Zay: Two weeks of training, then six weeks of rehearsals. Three weeks of previews after that, then one week of vacation before they ship us off.

He drops the calendar back to May, capping the pen. He saunters back over his bed and flops down onto it, tilting his head back and looking towards the ceiling.

Zay: Three months until touring begins…

He lets that sentence linger… then lolls his head to the side, looking towards the right side of the bed. Where Charlie is reclined back against the headboard, looking at him expectantly with his eyebrows raised.

Zay smirks, unable to hold one back at the sight of him there by his side. Finally back where he belongs.

Zay: What do you want to do until then?

It doesn’t matter how he answers that question. The “what” is a moot point. What matters is that the power is theirs to decide -- they get to write their own story now. They’re in this together, partners, regardless of the distance. Time, space, the universe, none of it has any power over them anymore. No more waiting for the stars to align -- they’ll just rewrite them how they like.

Charlie smiles. Zay returns it, naturally.

They’re together. They’re going to be together. All other obstacles and opinions be damned.

Zay leans forward just as Charlie raises his hand to cup his face, meeting in an appreciative kiss. They pause to savor it, still smiling, before descending into another one.

The camera pans away from them, down to the side of the bed where Zay’s duffle rests on the floor. On the strap, a new adornment has been strung onto it: a small evergreen lock, with Sharpie spelling out “D + C” on the surface.

Long distance can do its worst. It won’t make a difference.

They have faith.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - DAY

Isa returns back from campus, Riley and Lucas no longer anywhere in sight. All visible hints of Lucas are long gone, like he was never there -- except on the coffee table, where someone has left an apartment key.

But Isa can sense trouble. They tread cautiously once they step into the apartment, only taking a few seconds to recognize a sound that alerts them of trouble ahead.

Crying. Someone is crying.

Isa: Riley?

INT. NYU APARTMENT - RILEY’S BEDROOM - DAY

Isa pokes their head into Riley’s room, immediately dropping their bag off their shoulder when they find her. She’s curled up against the base of the window seat in her room, hugging her knees, in full hysterics. All alone, no hope of stopping any of the tears -- it doesn’t seem like she’s stopped crying since she started hours ago.

Even in her grief, though, her instincts kick in the instant she realizes she’s not alone anymore. She straightens up and wipes her face, trying to hide it.

Riley: Sorry. I’m so sorry --

Isa doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing to say. They have no idea what happened -- they assume they’ll learn that soon enough, whether they’ll like what they’ll hear or not.

Right now, they drop down next to Riley and wrap an arm around her shoulders. Pulling her into a hug; supportive no matter the cause, ready to be the stable foundation she has been for all of them for years. It takes no effort; they do it without question.

And thank goodness, because Riley really needs that for once. She melts back into sobs, burying her head in Isa’s shoulder. Isa braces themselves and stays steady, channeling that same sudden sense of purpose they found three years ago when it was a different best friend crying into their arms after the collapse of one very unconventional relationship.

This time, there’s no telling whether it’ll be able to rebuild.

INT. LA APARTMENT - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Farkle is completing his own emotional purge, trashing the last of Jordan’s mementos and clearing out old binders and materials from the school year. Freshman year is over -- the future awaits. He’s trying to meet it with his head held high.

Not that it’s always easy. In fact, sometimes, the past hits blisteringly hard, like it does when he removes old essays from his desk and finds a letter in his own handwriting hidden beneath it. He picks it up, getting a better look at it.

The letter he wrote to Isa. The one that stayed hidden in a worn novel for a year; the one that finally came to light and set everything ablaze in the process. That gave him one of the best nights of his life, and in turn, also one of the worst weeks later. So emotional, and effusive, and palpable in its sincerity…

Too emotional. Too sincere. All that’s ever gotten him is pain -- all opening himself up ever did was leave himself wide open for the most brutal wounds. The ones that will take ages to heal; that may not ever heal. It’s way too close to say now.

After one last moment of reluctant hesitation… Farkle rips up the letter. Then again. Again, and again, tearing it into as many fragmented little pieces as he can manage.

It’s the past. He’s done with the past.

Fire burning in his blue eyes, just glossed over with tears, he lets go. He unclenches his fists and releases the carnage, letting the remnants of the confession flutter down into his waste bin.

Then he swipes at his eyes, takes a deep breath, and turns away.

We linger on the bin for a moment, at those tattered scraps of what we once knew… then pan up to the desk, to the bulletin board where Farkle has the photograph from the holiday gathering at Chubbies hung up. All of our main cast, exactly as we know them now, the last glimpse we’ll see before the season ends.

Before the future arrives, and everything changes.

I don’t wanna follow death and all of his friends…

The screen stays on that photograph as it slowly fades to black, descending into darkness as the final performance fades away.

END OF SEASON.

...

But you didn’t think that was quite the end, did you?

Over black:

A brief set of simple numbers appears on screen, the one glimmer of light over the deathly still darkness.

2022.

Then, slowly, that last one starts to roll upwards like a slot machine. Sending us forward in time…

2023.

2024.

2025.

2026.

2027.

The rest of the screen brightens to white when we land on that year, temporarily blinding us --

INT. LA MANSION - ENTRY HALL - NIGHT

We’re thrown right into the midst of a celebration, an industry soiree of some kind. The venue is a spacious, modern Hollywood Hills mansion, gilded as ever.

As some guests chatter and make their way towards the party, held in the ballroom, we can see the banner hanging in shimmering gold above the tall, towering doors.

CONGRATULATIONS, MAYA HART!

INT. LA MANSION - BALLROOM - NIGHT

Despite now knowing that this party belongs to Maya, in some capacity, the crowd is full of many unfamiliar faces. A whirlwind of celebrity beauty and charm, but not much of an anchor for us to hold onto and find our sea legs. It’s loud, and overwhelming -- even the honoree of the night doesn’t seem to be hidden amongst the throng.

Finally, though, the camera lands on a known face. YINDRA AMINO is in the crowd, knocking back a drink with ALEENA SAYYID. Gratefully, despite how many years have passed since we left her, Yindra looks mostly the same -- a little more glamorous, with a little more money, and rocking a chic, voluminous twist out rather than the box braids she had before.

Aleena comments that she’s going to go meet Kimmy out front, as she thinks she just arrived. Yindra nods, not holding her back, but the moment she’s alone, some uncertainty creeps onto her face. She nervously checks her phone, clearly waiting for news.

None to report. That doesn’t seem to ease the discomfort. Yindra takes a deep breath.

Weaving through the crowd, we manage to find another pair of familiar faces before too long.

ZAY BABINEAUX is by one of the buffet tables. He’s looking sharp as ever, more toned after presumably years more of his craft. His hair is notably different -- he’s now got a colored buzz, bold and fashionable a la Frank Ocean or Dominic Fike.

And if he’s present, you can bet CHARLIE GARDNER isn’t far behind. Right now, he’s right by his side, carrying on light-hearted conversation and absent-mindedly snacking (can confirm his affinity for empty calories hasn’t gone anywhere in five years). He stills looks unfairly good as ever, though, just with a different, slightly neater haircut than when we last left him, longer and curlier on the top and trimmed on the sides.

Notably, though, Charlie seems to be way more at ease than Zay. While Charlie is relaying some silly story from back in New York for him, rambling like he does, Zay seems to have a shade of melancholy to his features. A little on edge, like Yindra, though for different reasons.

Regardless how subtle it is, Charlie notices. When he glances at him, he catches the faraway quality to his expression.

Charlie: Hey. You okay?

Zay blinks, coming back down to Earth. He focuses on his eyes, letting them anchor him, then brushes aside the moment like it’s nothing.

Zay: Yeah. Yeah, no. It’s just… [ sincere ] It’s really good to see you.

Charlie smiles, touched. He lightly nudges Zay’s arm.

For now, the moment will have to pass unaddressed, because a much bigger attention suck has just entered the room. A pair of chunky, white stilettos march their way out from the wings buttressing the small stage at the end of the ballroom, stepping out into the spotlight.

Make way, and stand at attention. The woman of the hour has made her entrance.

MAYA HART is here.

That said, something is… not quite right. As she takes the microphone at the center and clears her throat to get the attention of the room, and we pan up her body, it’s immediately apparent that something is off. Her glossy fashion sense isn’t quite up to par, and it looks like she may have had a little trouble lacing her corset. By the time we reach her pretty face, her makeup is definitely looking a little sloppy.

That’s not the biggest change by far though. No, the biggest red flag is blonde, and hardly there to wave.

Her hair is gone. Or at least it feels that way -- her usual lengthy, golden locks have been chopped off, now well above her shoulders. And based on the choppy, uneven edge to the cut, it doesn’t necessarily look salon-quality… or intentional. This looks more like someone just took a pair of scissors and went to town.

Even so, Maya plays it off as if nothing is different, offering a dazzling smile to the room and taking the microphone into her hands.

Maya: Hello there, my beautiful industry darlings.

She can play all she wants, but everyone else notices. The room grows hushed not just from her presence, but from the obviously drastic change she’s just dumped on them all. Yindra’s jaw drops -- no way the Maya Hart she knows ever lets herself walk out in public like that.

Zay and Charlie seem equally stunned. Charlie’s eyebrows shoot up, while Zay’s crinkle into a frown.

Charlie: Oh my… Zay: The fuck?

This new entrance provokes two other familiar faces to show themselves to us -- FARKLE MINKUS is frantically pushing through the crowd. He has certainly grown into his gawky looks over the last five years, actually looking quite put together and, dare you say it, handsome.

JOSH MATTHEWS, on the other hand, looks mostly the same -- late 20s anti-aging witchcraft -- only he’s sporting an absolutely abysmal weak goatee that he is clearly trying so hard to make work. Every white boy has to try it…

When Farkle manages to meet up with him, eyes glued to the stage where Maya is grandstanding, they speak in hushed, flat whispers.

Farkle: Did she tell you she was planning to make a speech? Josh: Nope. Farkle: Did she tell you about… that? Josh: Nooope.

Yeah, something is definitely up. You can tell just from Maya’s delivery -- she’s charismatic as ever, but she’s not steady. It’s hard to understand what she’s saying sometimes, like she’s speaking too fast and then way too slow. Taking pauses for emphasis at moments that don’t need it; stalling in the middle of a sentence, occasionally, like she’s trying to grasp the right words but there’s no possible way she’s going to find them.

Aleena makes it back to Yindra through the crowd, KIMMY PRICE in tow. She shoots Yindra a look, obviously surprised by this display.

Aleena: What’s up with Blondie?

That is the question, isn’t it… Yindra shrugs wordlessly, not having the answer. Zay and Charlie also watch closely, less concerned with whatever Maya is saying and more how close she’s teetering along the edge of the stage.

Maya: So yeah. Five years. Five magical, fucking majestic years. Can you all believe it? Here we are, celebrating the gold certification of my last album, when it’s like, hello? I’ve already put out multiple bangers. There’s so much to celebrate, am I right? I’ve been working my -- [ one of those pauses ] I’ve been working my damn ass off.

Her voice cracks on that last sentence, almost like she’s emotional. But she brushes it off a second later, reflexively tossing hair off her shoulder that’s no longer there. Not that she seems to realize that. She laughs, even though nothing she’s saying is funny.

Maya: And here’s what I’ve got to show for it. [ gesturing to the ballroom ] All the world at my fingertips. All the gold in the world. Certification on certification, dollars on dollars. And I’m happy. Oh, my word, am I fucking thrilled. And this is only the beginning, isn’t it? You didn’t think this was the end of the show, did you?

No, no one was thinking that, Maya, but now that you’re saying it… were you? Zay and Charlie exchange a look, apprehensive; Yindra grits her teeth, nerves amped up by her behavior.

Maya: No, no, no, my pretties. We’re just at the start. There is so much more to come from here. And are you not ready for it all? Are you not just massively, monumentally entertained? Well, buckle your seatbelts. Buckle your fucking seatbelts.

She’s starting to get a little breathless, and her steps are definitely uneven. Josh starts to step forward, sensing danger.

Maya grins, starlit smile shining under the stage lights… and looking directly at us.

Maya: I promise you -- none of us are ready for what’s coming next.

For a flickering moment, that image survives. A lit candle, one breath away from snuffing out.

Until Maya stumbles. Her limbs shake, and her eyes roll back, starlit smile slipping away.

Then she falls, right off the edge of the stage and into the crowd.

Multiple people scream. Josh and Farkle surge in her direction; Yindra gasps, hands shooting up to cover her mouth. From all the way in the back, Zay and Charlie both start running without missing a beat.

Abruptly, the screen smashes to black, the chaos shrinking to a distant echo before Maya crashes.

Over the darkness:

AMBITION.

THE FINAL SEASON.

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