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junghelioseok · 4 years

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clandestine. | 01

↳ forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fluff | brother’s best friend!au ◇ 10.3k [1/6]

notes: this fic was originally going to be a oneshot, but i changed my mind and decided i didn’t want to kill tumblr with a totally unnecessary 50k jk fic so 🤷🏻‍♀️ here is part one of a fic that 100% only came about because @puellaigmotum coerced me into it like 2 years ago (lmao rip 💀) and also bc i have zero self-control and am hopelessly h*rny for jungkook these days and don’t look at me i don’t wanna talk about it okay??? 🙈

warnings: jk’s massive noona kink, some ~under the table~ action, too much detail about jk’s dumb veiny arms probably, but at least he doesn’t have tattoos bc i started writing this before he got them and i don’t need to torture myself anymore than i already do!!!

⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

It’s always been easy to spot your brother in a crowd. Passengers flood off the train, jostling around you on their way to the station’s exit, but even in the swarm you can perfectly see Jimin’s golden head of hair bobbing its way toward you, a deep scowl etched across his face. “You’re late,” he says in lieu of a greeting, his honey brown eyes raking over your scuffed suitcase distastefully as he comes to a stop a few feet away.

“And you’re just as impatient as ever,” you retort, coming to a stop before him with your luggage in tow. “Think you can lord it over me since you can drive now?”

“Don’t forget that I’m your ride home,” Jimin scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I could just as easily leave you here to fend for yourself.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you tell him, raising a brow in silent challenge.

Jimin stares down at you unflinchingly, and you stare right back. The tension stretches between you, taut and heavy, until every passing second feels like a light year. Around you, the crowd slowly dissipates, but still you remain—two motionless statues locked in a wordless struggle. From somewhere overhead, a monotone voice announces the next train departure times.

Jimin’s mouth twitches. You blink, twice in quick succession.

And then your little brother breaks into a grin—one that’s so wide you fear his mouth may detach from his face entirely. An answering smile settles across your face as you watch him throw his head back, dissolving into laughter that you can’t help but echo.

“Damn it, Chim!” you say, instinctively grabbing onto his wrist when it looks like he might fall over. “Your poker face still sucks.”

“I’ve gotten better!” Jimin immediately defends. “I mean, you’ve got to admit that, right?”

“Nope.” You sigh and hold a hand over your head so you can measure your height against his ever-so-slightly taller frame. “Same old annoying kid I grew up with. Seriously, have you grown at all in the past year?”

“Whoa, too far, Noona.” Jimin takes ahold of both of your cheeks, pinching them affectionately. “You’re only a year older than me, you know. Besides, I’ve been taller than you for two years now!”

“I’m pretty sure hitting puberty at age seventeen isn’t something to be proud of,” you reply, pulling away from him with a mock grimace and giggling when he lets out an offended squeak. Playfully, you reach up to ruffle his hair, scrubbing your knuckles just a little too roughly against his skull.

“Noonaaa,” he complains, drawing out the last syllable until he runs out of air. “Jeez, you haven’t even been back for an hour yet and you’re already being mean to me. When do you go back to Seoul again?”

“Three weeks,” you reply, narrowing your eyes. “But I can and will make these three weeks hell for you. Don’t test me.”

Jimin snickers and drapes his arm over your shoulders. He picks up your suitcase with the other hand, and you thank him with another, gentler hair ruffle as the two of you start toward the exit of the train station. “College hasn’t changed you one bit.”

“And senior year hasn’t changed you,” you say, letting him guide you outside and breathing in the balmy summer evening air. Jimin’s brow furrows as he tries to remember where he’s parked, and you kindly take your suitcase back when he nods decisively and heads toward the left side of the lot. “You excited to graduate?”

He sighs, fumbling in his pocket for the keys as the two of you approach the car. “It’s going to suck. Your ceremony was boring as hell last year.”

“Wow, rude.”

Jimin looks up from where he’s unlocking the driver’s side door. “Am I wrong, though?”

You flash him a grin as he unlocks the remaining doors, heaving your suitcase into the backseat before sliding into the passenger seat beside him. “Nope. But afterward, you’ll be done with high school forever.”

“Thank god.” Your brother rakes a hand through his hair, mussing it further as he carefully starts the ignition and checks his mirrors with all the diligence of a new driver. Once satisfied, he pulls out of the parking space, meandering his way out of the lot and onto the main street.

The ride back to your childhood home is a short one, full of familiar storefronts and landmarks that dredge up all sorts of fond memories. You hadn’t expected your first year of university—away from your family and your hometown—to make you quite so emotional. But before you know it, Jimin is making the turn into your neighborhood, and you can’t stop the way your eyes begin to well up when you see your house in the distance.

As if reading your mind, Jimin glances at you as he pulls into the driveway. “Feel good to be home?”

You nod, blinking back tears. “Feels great.”

He grins. Pulling the key from the ignition, he climbs out of the car and grabs your suitcase, waving for you to head inside. Eagerly, you start toward the front door, but you barely make it halfway up the driveway when it bursts open, revealing your father standing there with open arms and an enormous grin. He’s just as tall as you remember, and looks exactly the same save a few more strands of silver lacing his hair. All of a sudden, you’re a little girl again, running up to give him a hug and giggling madly when he tries to scoop you up like he used to do so many years ago.

“Hi Dad,” you greet when he gives up and sets you back down on two feet. “Where’s Mom?”

“Cooking up a storm,” he replies, chortling. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, he leads you into the kitchen where your mother is hunched over the stove with a spatula, delicious aromas wafting up from the array of pots and pans in front of her. “Honey, look who’s home!”

“Hi Mom,” you say, grinning when she whirls around, startled. The spatula, still dangling loosely from her hand, drips sauce onto the tiled floor, but she barely notices in her eagerness to give you a hug, throwing it down into one of the simmering pots and striding forward to wrap you up in a tight embrace.

“How was your trip?” she asks, pulling back and angling your face this way and that. “Did you sleep on the ride? Did Jimin drive safely?”

The last question draws a protesting whine from your brother, who has lugged your suitcase over the threshold and is now seated at the dining table, fiddling with a spoon. “My driving was fine, right Noona?” he says, his bottom lip jutting out into a pout.

“Yes, Chim,” you agree, laughing at the pleased expression that overtakes his face. Curiously, you walk over to the stove to inspect the food, your jaw dropping as you take in the assorted vegetables and meats. “Wow, Mom. Are you cooking for an army?”

“Jungkook is coming over for dinner,” she explains, following you over and plucking up the spatula again. “That boy has the biggest appetite I’ve ever seen—you remember, right?”

You laugh. “Of course I remember. He and Jimin were always stealing bites of my lunch at school.” Peering over at your brother, you fix him with a mock glare before walking over to the cutting board on the counter and sizing up the pile of onions and peppers sitting there. “It’ll be nice to see him again, though. How is he doing?”

To your surprise, a new voice answers your question—a voice that somehow manages to be simultaneously familiar and foreign. “Why don’t you ask me directly, Noona?” it says, and you whirl around, wide-eyed, to face the newcomer.

This can’t possibly be Jeon Jungkook, is your first thought upon seeing the young man standing in the kitchen doorway. The Jungkook you knew in high school was a scrawny kid—all gangly limbs and a nose that was too big for his face. The Jungkook you knew wore oversized white t-shirts that made him look even younger than he was, a look that was only enhanced by round wire-rimmed glasses that always gave him a look of permanent astonishment. The Jungkook you knew was nowhere near this tall, and definitely not this broad.

But this Jungkook—this Jungkook takes up nearly the entire doorframe with his bulk. Dark eyes stare at you from beneath equally dark hair, his gaze unhindered by his old glasses. A cobalt blue shirt stretches tight over his chest, and you swallow when you notice just how much the buttons are straining to contain the muscle underneath. Black jeans and simple black sneakers complete his outfit, and the entire look is so jarringly different from what you’re used to that you are left momentarily speechless, gaping like a fish out of water. Vaguely, you wonder when he got his ears pierced.

And then Jungkook—or at least, the young man claiming to be Jungkook—takes three steps forward, his entire face melting into a crinkly-eyed grin. You catch a glimpse of the adorably prominent front teeth that always made him look like a rabbit, and that’s all it takes to break the spell.

“Jungkookie!” you exclaim, darting forward to greet him. “It’s been so long!”

“Hi, Noona,” he replies, his grin widening at your approach. In an instant, he has you wrapped up in an embrace, easily lifting you off the floor in a display of strength that would’ve had a lesser woman swooning. His hands curl firmly around your waist, and you have no choice but to wrap yours around his nape, squeaking in protest when he spins you in a full circle.

“Kookie!” you gasp, wriggling helplessly in his grasp and huffing when he only cackles. “Put me down!”

Obediently, Jungkook lowers you back to the ground. His hands linger on your waist until he’s certain that both your feet are planted firmly, and it’s only then that he pulls back to get a good look at your face. “You know I’d never drop you, right?” he asks innocently.

“As if I can trust anything that comes out of your mouth,” you retort with a laugh. “I’ve seen you scam your way out of detention with those pretty doe eyes. Don’t try me, kid.”

Jungkook snorts. “Kid? I’m not that much younger than you. Plus I’m older than Jimin, y’know.”

“By a month!” your brother protests from the dining room, his blond head popping up from behind the vase of daisies serving as a centerpiece.

“Month and a half,” Jungkook stage-whispers to you, cupping a hand and bringing his mouth to your ear conspiratorially. His breath tickles your cheek, and you swat him away with a giggle that becomes a full-on laugh when Jimin lets out an offended cry and rises to his feet. Striding over, he pokes Jungkook squarely in the chest, his eyes narrowed.

“I invite you over to my house and this is the thanks I get?”

Your dad chooses that moment to interrupt from the living room. “Your house? When exactly did you start paying rent, Jimin?”

Jimin’s jaw drops. “Are you taking his side?” he asks in disbelief, glaring at Jungkook when he starts laughing. “I’m your son!”

“I’m your father,” your dad replies.

“And I’m your mother,” your mom pipes up, brandishing a spoon. “And I’m telling all of you to get your butts over to that dining table in the next ten seconds, or no dinner for any of you.”

Your dad, Jimin, and Jungkook immediately fall silent, cowed by her proclamation. Grinning, you join your mother at the counter, grabbing a handful of spoons and accepting the platter of kimchi she hands over. “Direct as always, Mom.”

She laughs and picks up a bowl of rice. “To deal with men like them? You have to be.”

Food in hand, you make your way into the dining room. The table is set, the steaming food arranged neatly in the center, and you watch as your mother takes her seat next to Jimin and leaves you to sit beside Jungkook on the opposite side. Your father beams from his spot at the head of the table, glancing at each of you in turn before turning and giving your shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

“Look at you kids, all sitting at the same table again.” He sighs, and you’re certain that he’s thinking back to the last time all of you were together—well over a year ago, at this point. “It’s a shame that your parents couldn’t join us, though, Jungkook.”

Jungkook nods. “Yeah, they told me to apologize on their behalf. They have tickets for the theatre tonight, and couldn’t get a refund on them.”

Your father laughs and waves the apology off. “I’m sure we’ll catch them next time,” he says. “Pretty hard to avoid each other when you live next door, isn’t it?”

“Definitely,” Jungkook agrees with a chuckle. Then he turns to you, the silver hoops in his ears glinting in the light from the overhead chandelier. “I’m sure they’ll drop by soon to see you, Noona. Mom wants to hear all about Seoul—I think she’s worried about sending me so far away by myself.”

“Junghyun stayed in Busan for university, didn’t he?” your mom asks.

Jungkook nods. “Yep, he still lives downtown and everything. He wanted to come over tonight, but his work wouldn’t let him take the time off.”

Your mom sighs. “That’s such a shame. Is he at least attending your graduation?”

“He’s driving in the day after tomorrow for the ceremony,” Jungkook confirms. Then he pauses, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. His gaze flickers down to the plate of sweet potatoes on the other side of the table, and before he can even open his mouth, your mother is already passing him the plate. He thanks her with an embarrassed chuckle but digs into the food nonetheless, and everyone else takes it as a sign to follow suit. You’re in the middle of scooping rice into your bowl when Jimin speaks up again.

“So what’s it like living in Seoul?” he asks, his cheeks bulging with pork belly. “You have roommates, right?”

“Suitemates,” you correct. “But yeah, I live with three other people. Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jennie are all great though, so it hasn’t been a problem.”

Jungkook pauses mid-chew to gape at you. “You live with guys?”

“My building’s co-ed,” you explain. “We all have separate bedrooms, but we share a common space and bathrooms.”

Your mother—on the lookout for any potential future grandchildren, as always—perks up. “Namjoon and Hoseok sound like nice boys. Are you friends?”

“Yes, Mom,” you sigh. “We’re friends. Just friends.” And then before she can ask about whether or not any other boys have caught your eye, you quickly turn back to your brother. “So, what’s your plan for next year? Are you and Jungkook living together?”

Jimin hums. “Yep, that’s the plan. Unless you want to live with us too, Noona.”

You laugh. “Why, so I can protect you from all the bullies like I did in elementary school?”

He flashes you a cheeky grin. “More like so I can protect you from all the weird college guys. Who’s this Hoseok guy anyway? Do I need to beat him up?”

“Please don’t beat up Hobi,” you entreaty, giggling when he pretends to crack his knuckles. “Or Joon!” you add quickly when he remains undeterred and makes to stand up from the table to defend your honor. Balling up your napkin, you throw it at him, and both of you burst into hysterics when your makeshift weapon bounces off his forehead and straight into his glass of water. The rest of dinner passes in a haze of similarly playful antics and happy chatter, and by the time the last bowl is scraped clean, it feels as if you’d never even left.

“I’ll do the dishes,” you volunteer, standing up and gathering up the empty platters. Jungkook and Jimin are quick to jump to your aid, collecting any utensils that you missed, and you offer them a grateful smile as they follow you into the kitchen.

“Let me do the washing, Noona.” Jungkook rolls up the sleeves of his cobalt blue shirt to expose a familiar silver watch glinting on his left wrist—a watch that his father handed down to him when he was sixteen, and that had been worn by his grandfather before him. You still remember the day he’d first worn it to school, proudly displaying it even though the band was too loose around his narrow wrist.

He’s grown into it now, you realize. The watch no longer flops around like it used to, and sits snugly in place instead. Your eyes trace the silver buckle on the inside of his wrist before trailing up to follow the network of thin, branching veins in his forearm, admiring the smooth flex of muscle as he grabs a sponge from the wire rack hanging above the sink and squirts some dish soap onto the surface.

“I’ll dry,” Jimin chirps, selecting a towel and brandishing it. “Noona, do you want to help me? We’ll finish faster that way.”

Nodding, you pull another towel out from the drawer and rejoin the two boys at the sink. Jungkook washes quickly and efficiently, and you determinedly avoid staring at the way water trickles along the patchwork veins on his hands as he gives you bowl after bowl to dry.

It doesn’t take long for all the dishes to be washed and dried. The three of you take the time to put them back into the proper cabinets before bidding your parents a good night, heading out onto the back porch. Falling back into old routines feels like second nature, so you plop down onto the steps without hesitation and grin when Jungkook takes a seat beside you.

“Wait, I almost forgot!” Jimin exclaims, bouncing up from where he was beginning to sit down next to Jungkook. “I bought some beer earlier and left it in the trunk. Be right back!”

You watch your brother run off, his floppy blond hair a stark contrast with the deep blue evening sky. In seconds, he’s disappeared around the corner of the house, leaving you and Jungkook alone on the porch steps.

“Chim really hasn’t changed one bit,” you remark with a laugh, turning toward your dark-haired companion.

Jungkook chuckles. “The kid loves his alcohol, that’s for sure.”

“Please.” You elbow him in the ribs. “I know you’re just as bad as he is.”

“Maybe,” he concedes with another chuckle. “But come on, Noona, you can’t tell me you don’t enjoy a drink every now and then. What about all that college stress?”

You hum, leaning back on your hands and staring up at the sky where the full moon is just beginning to rise, surrounded by a smattering of stars peeking through the velvety darkness of night. “I never said that I didn’t enjoy a drink, or five.” Jungkook laughs at your remark, and you smile before letting out a soft sigh. “I’m glad Jimin got the beer, though. Maybe I’ll finally be able to stop stressing out about my internship.”

That sobers Jungkook up immediately, his eyes widening as he peers down at you and lays a gentle hand on your back. “Are you still worried? You already got the job, didn’t you?”

You nod slowly, thinking back to the job offer that you had accepted at the end of the semester. It had been difficult finding a company in your desired field that offered internships to first-year students, but with dogged persistence and a lot of luck, you’d managed to snag a summer position. It isn’t due to start for another three weeks, however, and while you’re grateful for the chance to visit your family, part of you also wishes that you didn’t have to wait such a long time. “I just have no idea what to expect, you know? The only jobs I’ve ever had were in retail and food service, and that was all ages ago. I don’t feel ready at all.”

A strong arm settles across your shoulders, and you look up to see Jungkook gazing down at you with something indiscernible sparkling in his deep brown eyes. “You’re gonna be amazing,” he murmurs, his voice whisper-soft. “You know that, right? You always are. This won’t be any different.”

And you believe him. Every detail of his face is bathed in silvery moonlight—the gentle slope of his nose, the sharp angle of his jaw, the little scar high on his cheekbone—and you wonder how you never realized how handsome he is before now. And maybe it’s the low, soothing timbre of his voice, or maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you—with unspeakable tenderness and gentle affection glimmering in his irises—but you lean in before you can even realize what you’re doing. You don’t look away, and neither does he.

Jungkook’s gaze drops, trailing down the slope of your cheeks until it lands on the curve of your mouth. He hesitates for a split second, his throat bobbing harshly as he swallows and sucks in a breath.

And then his lips are pressing against yours—soft and tentative and just a little bit chapped. Your eyes flutter shut almost on instinct, your body relaxing as he shifts and pulls you a little more firmly against him. Slowly, his arm finds its way to the curve of your waist and settles there. Your fingers curl around his nape, carding through his silky hair.

It’s only when Jungkook’s tongue darts out to run along the seam of your lips that reality comes crashing back down, your stomach plummeting down to somewhere around your toes as you wrench away from his embrace. “Kookie!” you gasp, your breathing labored. “We can’t!”

Jungkook blinks, momentarily entrancing you with the way the stars reflect in his gaze like glittering diamonds. “Why not?” he asks, reaching out for you again. “You kissed me back, didn’t you?”

Squeaking, you bat his hands away. “Jungkook, no! We can’t! You’re Jimin’s best friend, and god, this is all kinds of weird, and—“

The dark-haired young man looks like he wants to protest more, but the sound of footsteps coming back around the house sends both of you scooting back to your original positions on the porch steps. Jimin appears two seconds later, plopping down beside Jungkook cheerfully and dropping a six-pack of beer at his feet.

“What’d I miss?” he asks, seemingly oblivious to the tension lingering in the air as he pops open a bottle and hands it to you.

“Nothing,” you say immediately, accepting the proffered beer. The cool glass bottle is a welcome relief, and you hurriedly take a long sip when your mind unwillingly begins to wander back to just how warm and soft your dark-haired companion’s lips had been.

Jungkook is much slower to respond to Jimin’s question. His shoulders slump as he reaches down to grab a drink of his own, twisting the cap open viciously and taking a swig. “Yeah,” he mutters, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Nothing at all.”

Luck must be on your side, because Jimin doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss as he grabs a beer for himself and flops backward, resting his weight on his elbows as he gazes up at the night sky. “It’s nice out,” he remarks, looking utterly at ease.

You are anything but. Beside you, Jungkook is sipping pensively on his beer, and you are painfully aware of the heat radiating off his body. Jimin is still chattering away, rambling about whatever pops into his head, and you take the opportunity to sneak a glance at Jungkook. His face is cast in silvery luminescence from the moon, his mouth pulled down into a deep, contemplative frown—and you are once again forced to shake off thoughts of how nice it felt to have his mouth pressed against yours.

This is Jeon Jungkook, you tell yourself sternly. Friend, neighbor, and Jimin’s best friend in the entire universe. You kissed him, sure, but it was a mistake. A moment of weakness. And it won’t happen again.

You repeat that over and over, silently reciting it in your head like a mantra, until, at last, you finally start to believe it.

///

You’re in the middle of brewing a fresh pot of coffee after a lazy morning spent sleeping in when you spot Jungkook outside through the kitchen window. He’s standing in the yard in a sleeveless white tee, wiping at his forehead with the back of his hand as he thoughtfully regards the row of hedges that serves as the property line between your house and the Jeons’ house next door. In his other hand is a shovel, and you can’t help the way your gaze automatically traces his exposed biceps, admiring the way they flex when he finally selects a spot and begins digging.

“Is the coffee done yet, Noona?”

Jimin’s voice yanks your attention away from your gardening neighbor, your vision overtaken by a mess of fluffy blond bedhead as he sneaks into the space between you and the counter and obnoxiously cuts you off from the pot of fresh brew. “Hey!” you protest, but Jimin just gives you a cheeky wink before grabbing a mug and pouring out a generous helping of piping hot coffee. After a moment’s thought, he pours you a mug as well, handing it over with an exaggerated bow.

You roll your eyes, but accept the warm cup nonetheless. Following him into the living room, you make yourself comfortable on the couch as he flops down onto the carpeted floor and turns on the television. Idly, he begins flipping through the channels in search for something to watch, and you endure random snippets of the morning news, a cheesy soap opera, and a series of infomercials before sighing and rising to your feet again. “I’m getting some food. Want some toast, Chimchim?”

“Mmm. Sure.”

Slowly, you meander your way back into the kitchen. Your mother is standing at the counter stirring sugar into her coffee, and you smile as you walk up to join her. “Morning, Mom.”

“Good morning, sweetie,” she says, taking a careful sip of her drink. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a log,” you reply with a grin. Grabbing the loaf of bread off the counter, you pull out a few slices and shove them in the toaster. “Do you want toast? I’m making some for me and Chimchim.”

“Just one slice for me,” she says, opening up the dish cabinet and pulling out three plates. Obligingly, you hand her one of the two freshly toasted slices and drop the other onto your plate. Popping some more bread into the toaster, you’re just about to grab the jam from the fridge when there’s a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it!” Jimin yells from the living room. You hear the soft pad of his footsteps in the hallway and the low creak of the front door as it swings open—and then your brother is snorting out a laugh at whoever is on your doorstep. “Dude, why are you covered in dirt?”

You’re beginning to have a sneaking suspicion as to who your guest is, and it’s confirmed when your brother’s question is answered.

“I’m helping Mom plant some hydrangeas out back,” Jungkook’s voice explains, his tall figure stepping into view a moment later. “Can you come help me lift the bushes?”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “You could’ve just texted me.”

“Who knows if you would’ve answered?” Jungkook asks, laughing. “Knowing you, you’d just leave me on read. Besides—” and here he glances over at you, dark eyes glimmering with an emotion that you can’t quite pinpoint, “—I wouldn’t get to see two of my favorite ladies if I didn’t stop by.”

Jimin pretends to vomit at the line, but your mother laughs delightedly as Jungkook takes another step into the foyer and flashes her a winning grin. “Good morning, Jungkookie,” she greets him. “Have you eaten breakfast yet? {Name} was just making some toast, and we’ve got fresh coffee.”

Jungkook’s gaze slides over to you again, taking in the flannel pajama pants and oversized t-shirt you’re wearing. “Thanks, Mrs. Park,” he says, though his eyes never leave yours. “I ate already, but coffee sounds wonderful.”

You are beginning to feel increasingly vulnerable as Jungkook continues looking unblinkingly in your direction. Thankfully, your mom pipes up, drawing his attention away with a decisive clap of her hands. “Coffee it is, then!” she says brightly. “{Name}, why don’t you grab Jungkook a cup?”

Hurriedly, you turn toward the cabinets, trying your best to ignore Jungkook as he chats comfortably with your family. Your success is limited though, and you can feel his penetrating stare lingering on your back even as you fetch a mug and fill it up to the brim.

“Noona.” Jungkook’s voice comes from behind you, much closer than you remember him being. “Can I have some cream and sugar, please?”

Somehow, you manage to reply without stammering. “Yeah. Sure.” Dumping some of the excess coffee into the sink, you spoon in some sugar and give it a quick stir. Just as you turn toward the refrigerator for the cream, a strong arm cuts you off.

“I got it, Noona,” Jungkook murmurs, backing you up against the counter as he tucks the little white carton into your outstretched hand. His proximity has your heart skipping several beats, and you almost drop the carton entirely when he speaks again in a husky whisper, his mouth at the shell of your ear. “Just a little bit, please.”

You are acutely aware of the heat radiating off of his body, warming your back and flushing your cheeks. Quietly, you open up the carton and pour a splash of cream into his mug, the swirl of white melding with the dark liquid within. “Is—is that enough?”

Jungkook reaches around you to open up the silverware drawer, grabbing a spoon and giving the coffee a stir. “That’s perfect,” he purrs, his hot breath stirring gooseflesh on the back of your neck.

This close to him, it’s easy to forget where you are and who you’re with, but you somehow manage to regain enough of your senses to wrench away and reclaim your personal space. “G-great,” you stammer, picking up the mug and shoving it into his hands, determinedly ignoring the ripple of his arm muscles as he accepts. “Um. Chim. Did you want your toast?”

“Yes, please,” Jimin says, barely glancing up from where he’s made himself comfortable at the kitchen island, idly playing on his phone.

Your mother pokes her head around the doorframe of the adjoining laundry room, where she has clearly started a fresh load if the sound of splashing water is anything to go by. “Don’t make your sister do all of the work, Jimin. Go help her—it’s your food, isn’t it?”

Obligingly, Jimin hops off the stool and grabs his favorite jar of jam, joining you at the counter. He takes the slice of toast you offer him, slathering it messily and taking an enormous bite. “Thanks for breakfast, Noona,” he says, blowing you an exaggerated kiss. “Ready, Kook?”

Jungkook raises his mug of coffee in acknowledgement. “Ready.” Then his gaze flickers back to you, twinkling with silent mirth. “And Noona—thanks. The coffee’s delicious.”

You can’t find the words to answer. Silently, you watch him disappear out the front door with Jimin, following his dark head of hair as it bobs across the yard. His biceps flex as he gestures for Jimin to help him lift a hydrangea bush, and your eyes linger on the stretch of defined muscle, tracing the network of prominent veins running along his forearm before your brain can caution you to stop. It’s almost as if you’re on autopilot, and by the time you zone back in, your gaze has wandered too far south for your liking. Letting out an audible groan, you tear your eyes away from the mouthwatering view of his thick thighs and return to your now-cold breakfast. And you don’t think about Jeon Jungkook again, pushing the image of his broad shoulders and handsome face into the darkest recesses of your mind.

Or at least, that was the plan. Jimin comes back inside after about an hour, tracking mud through half the house before your mother reprimands him and orders him to take off his shoes. Jungkook, thankfully, chose to return to his own home as well, and you immediately banish the thought of him showering off all the sweat and grime that has no doubt accumulated on his toned body. You shove away the mental image of water slicking his golden skin and collecting in the hollows of his collarbones, and when your mind conjures up pictures of what lies south of his waist, you resist the urge to scream into the pile of freshly laundered pillowcases your mom presses into your arms.

You’re just about to head upstairs to scream into a real pillow when there’s another knock on your front door—a familiar cadence that you heard just this morning. And that’s when you realize—to your complete and utter dismay—that Jeon Jungkook isn’t done tormenting you yet. Not by a long shot.

“You again? You do realize that this isn’t your house, right?” you ask, swinging open the door and thanking whatever gods may be out there that your voice remains steady. Then you raise a brow, glancing down at his change in attire. “Wait, why are you wearing a suit?”

Jungkook gives you an infuriatingly impish grin. “Do I need a reason?” His hair is still damp from the shower, a stray lock flopping down across his forehead, and as you watch him brush it away absently, you notice that he’s holding something in his free hand.

“What’s that?” you ask curiously.

Footsteps sound from behind you, interrupting before he can answer. “Jungkookie?” your mother asks, appearing at the foot of the stairs. “I thought I heard your voice. Are you here for Jimin again?”

Jungkook flashes her a winning smile and raises the garment bag he’s holding. “No, I was actually hoping to get some advice. I’ve got my suit ready to go for graduation tomorrow, but I can’t decide which shirt looks better. My mom likes how I look in blue, but I wanted a second opinion from you and Noona.”

To your utter annoyance, your mother coos and gestures for him to come in. He’s already wearing the blue shirt—a pale periwinkle one that reminds you of a cloudless day—but your mom takes the garment bag out of his hand and unzips it to look inside. “What are your options?” she asks.

“Blue, red, and yellow,” Jungkook replies, pulling each shirt off its hanger and holding them up to his chest in turn. “What do you think, Mrs. Park?”

“The blue is lovely,” your mom says thoughtfully, straightening his collar. “But this shade of yellow looks nice too. A handsome young man like you—you really can’t go wrong with any of these.”

Jungkook grins and scratches behind his ear, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Thanks, Mrs. Park.”

The dryer chooses that moment to beep shrilly, signalling the end of its cycle, and your mother darts off to tend to it, leaving you and Jungkook alone in the living room.

“What about you, Noona?” Jungkook asks, just as you’re about to try and sneak out under the pretense of helping with the laundry. “Which shirt do you like?”

“Does it matter?” you ask. “It’s just going to be hidden underneath those horrible black trash bags they make you wear.”

He laughs. “Sure, but what about before and after? You know my mom’s going to want to take a million pictures.”

“Can’t argue there.” Resigning yourself to your fate, you put your stack of clean pillowcases down on the arm of the couch and cross your arms over your chest. “Show them to me again?”

Jungkook raises the yellow shirt, holding it up for a few seconds before swapping it out for the red. “Well?”

You pause to consider it. “Red,” you decide after some deliberation, pointing at your choice. It’s a deep crimson color—almost burgundy—and you rub the silky material between your fingertips before taking it and replacing it onto its hanger. Jungkook joins you with the yellow shirt, his arm bumping into yours as you both reach for the garment bag, and even though you flinch away from the contact, Jungkook doesn’t let you stray very far. A strong hand clamps down around your forearm, and you inhale sharply when he backs you up against the wall and cages you in with his solid body.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Jungkook looks thoroughly unfazed as he blinks a few loose strands of hair out of his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“Jungkook—” you hiss, struggling to see over his shoulder if your mother has returned. “Get off me.”

“Come on, Noona,” Jungkook murmurs. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me. Ever since you got back—ever since we kissed—”

“A mistake,” you say, cutting him off with a finger to the lips and glancing around furtively to make sure no one is eavesdropping. “That was a mistake.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “Was it? Because I really wanted to kiss you, and I’m pretty sure you wanted to kiss me too. You kissed back, didn’t you?”

“Y-you—“ You clear your throat and try again, cringing at how shaky your voice comes out. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But Jungkook simply laughs. “Don’t I?” He inches closer until you’re chest to chest, his gaze darkening as it flickers downward and lands on your mouth. Your heartbeat quickens, thudding erratically in your ribcage. It would be so easy to push to your tiptoes and close the distance between your lips.

“God,” you huff. “You’re so—”

His other eyebrow rises to join the first. “I’m so—?” he presses, tilting his head as he awaits your answer. The loose lock of hair flops across his forehead again, and this time you cannot stop yourself from reaching up to brush it away.

“Shut up,” you hiss as your fingers drop down to wind into the soft hair at his nape. “Just shut up.”

And then you’re kissing him—really, really kissing him—pulling him down to your level and sliding your free hand up his infuriatingly toned chest.

“See?” Jungkook’s lips curl up into a smug smirk as he pulls away slightly, his warm breath fanning across your cheeks with every word. “I knew you were into me.”

“God, do you ever stop talking?” you retort, pushing him back until you have enough room to switch your positions and maneuver him against the wall.

Jungkook lets you pin him in place, blinking down at you lazily with his mouth still stretched into that maddening little smirk. “Only if you make me, Noona.” His hands slide down your sides, coming to a stop at your hips in an ironclad grip. “Only if you kiss me like that again.”

So you do. Your fingers tighten in his hair as you crush your mouth to his, and when his lips part you slip your tongue inside. Jungkook—still smirking—relaxes and lets you take control of the kiss, but his hands continue to wander. Before you know it, he’s already snuck underneath the hem of your shirt, rubbing warm circles into the soft skin of your waist. His lips move languidly against yours, his tongue careful and gentle in its exploration of your mouth, and you sigh when he tugs you closer. You’re pressed flush against him by this point, pinning him between your body and the wall, and neither you nor he have any intent to move anytime soon.

The sudden slamming of a door jerks you back to reality. Here you are, standing in the living room where anyone could walk by and see you kissing your brother’s best friend—again. Shakily, you pull away from Jungkook with your heart in your throat, putting as much space as you possibly can between your bodies. “Fuck,” you mutter. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. We can’t do this.”

Jungkook’s chest is heaving, his lips swollen and red. “{Name}—” he tries, but you shake your head and cut him off before he can continue.

“You need to leave,” you whisper.

“But—”

“Please,” you say, your heart hammering wildly in your chest. “Please, Jungkook. Just leave.”

Jungkook swallows, hard. And then, much to your relief, he picks up his garment bag, shoving both shirts back inside. “Okay,” he rasps. “I’ll go.”

Elsewhere in the house, you can hear your mother calling for Jimin. Your father is watching TV in his study—you can hear the low hum of voices and a laugh track. Your entire family is here.

And yet, you’ve never felt more alone as you watch Jungkook stride down the hallway and disappear out the front door.

///

Returning to your high school is odd. The hallways and classrooms are familiar, but they all seem smaller than you remember. And were the ceilings always this short? You aren’t sure. What you are sure of, however, is that Jungkook and his family are currently headed your way, with beaming smiles on their faces and colorful flower bouquets in hand. Greetings and congratulations are exchanged, and it isn’t long before you are face-to-face with Jungkook himself, a tight smile on his face as he meets your eyes.

“Hi, Noona.”

“Hi,” you reply. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

Now that the graduation ceremony is over, he’s taken off his robe to reveal the red shirt underneath. The silky material drapes over his torso and clings to the toned planes of his chest, and your fingers itch to run across the defined muscle. Swallowing down the urge, you instead gesture toward his parents, who are engaged in deep conversation with your own parents while Jimin chats with Junghyun off to the side. “I guess we’re all getting dinner after this, huh?”

He nods. “Yeah, at that one place downtow—“

“Jungkook! Jimin!” A feminine voice interrupts him mid-sentence, and you watch in surprise as both your brother and Jungkook are suddenly engulfed in a massive tangle of limbs. Immediately, you recognize Jisoo and Lisa—two girls you considered casual friends from your own high school days. The third girl in the trio of friends—Chaeyoung—is noticeably absent, but you don’t get a chance to question her whereabouts. “Can you believe it? We’re graduates!” Lisa is saying excitedly, still clutching tightly onto Jungkook’s shoulders. She’s pressed flush against him, her chest molded to his, and the sudden rush of jealousy that takes root in the pit of your stomach takes you aback with its ferocity.

Calm the fuck down, you instruct your pounding heart. Stop it, right now.

“Has Tae told you about the party tomorrow night?” Jisoo asks, breaking you out of your thoughts. “You guys better be there—and that means you, too, {Name}! It’s been forever since we’ve seen you!”

You clear your throat and attempt to smile. “Yeah, it’s been way too long. It’ll be nice to finally catch up.” Unwillingly, your gaze flickers back over to Jungkook and Lisa, doing your best to maintain a neutral expression when you notice the casual way his arm drapes over her shoulders.

Your attempts are in vain. Jungkook notices your stare immediately, a massive shit-eating grin spreading across his face. One eyebrow rises in a silent taunt, and you swear his grip around her tightens. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you instead turn back to Jisoo, finally voicing the question that’s on your mind.

“So, where’s Chaeyoung? I saw her during the ceremony, but haven’t seen her around since. She didn’t leave already, did she?”

“No, she’s still here,” Jisoo answers, exchanging a look with Lisa. Curiosity piqued, you watch her gaze dart over to Jungkook for a split second before returning to you, a tiny smile gracing her face once more. “She’s with her family right now, but she’ll be at the party tomorrow.”

“I’ll congratulate her there, then,” you say, returning her smile with one of her own. Silently, you wonder at the uneasy glance the two girls had exchanged, but decide not to press it, chalking it up to some senior year drama that isn’t any of your business.

“Well, we should probably get going,” Jisoo says after another beat. “We’re off to dinner.”

“We should be on our way too,” you agree, glancing over at where your parents are still chatting, having absorbed Junghyun into their conversation at some point. Bidding the two girls goodbye, you sidle over to join them, trying your best to subtly nudge your parents toward the door.

After what feels like an eternity, your parents finally decide that they’re ready for a change in scenery. The drive to the restaurant is blessedly short, much to the relief of your grumbling stomach, and you are more than grateful for the brief reprieve from Jungkook and his knowing smirk. It doesn’t last long, however, and you mentally brace yourself when you spot the Jeons’ car in the parking lot of the restaurant. Upon entering, you are quickly ushered to your reserved table where the Jeons are already waiting, and somehow in the shuffle you end up right between Jungkook and Junghyun, the former’s face dissolving into a satisfied grin as he watches you sit down.

Then he turns to Jimin, who’s seated on his other side. “Hey, man.”

You bristle at the blatant way he’s ignoring you. But two can play at that game, so you turn to Junghyun with a winning smile, laying a hand on his shoulder for good measure. The older Jeon brother is four years your senior, but despite the age difference, you’ve always gotten along well.

“Junghyun, I haven’t seen you in ages! How have you been?”

The elder Jeon grins and leans in to give you a hug. “Good, good—work’s insane, but that’s old news. What about you? How’s school going so far?”

You can feel Jungkook’s gaze on you, hot and heavy. The hairs on the back of your neck prickle under the weight of it, and you resist the urge to shiver. Instead, you give Junghyun’s bicep a final squeeze before pulling away, steadfastly ignoring the way Jungkook lets out a disgruntled hiss from between his teeth.

“School is good,” you tell Junghyun. “I’m trying to get all my general requirements out of the way early, so my first semester wasn’t very interesting. I took some more focused classes in the second, though, which made things infinitely better.”

The elder Jeon laughs. “Guess that means you’re on the right track then, huh?”

“Guess so,” you reply, laughing right along with him.

The server stops by to take drink orders, and your parents take it upon themselves to order food for the table as well. You continue chatting amicably with Junghyun as the server returns with a tray of water, sodas, and soju; beside you, Jungkook does the same with Jimin. The only break in conversation comes when the server—a pretty girl with a chirpy voice and a nametag that reads ‘Mina’—leans over to set a glass of Coke down in front of Jungkook. He thanks her with a crooked smirk and a low purr of gratitude that has her cheeks flushing pink, and it’s all you can do not to gape at him like a fish. The flirtatious quirk of his lips, the seductive tone—it all comes far too naturally to him, and you wonder for a moment just where the old Jungkook has gone. The Jungkook you used to know stammered every time he had to talk to an unfamiliar girl, and had trouble looking even you in the eye despite having known you since grade school.

But now, he’s nowhere to be found. The young man sitting beside you remains as calm as can be, shifting his body toward Mina so that he can request a straw.

“Of course, here you go!” Mina’s gaze lingers on his hand as he accepts the proffered straw, eyes widening when his fingers brush against hers lightly.

“Fast service,” Jungkook remarks, his voice dipping into a low, indolent drawl. “I like that.”

Mina giggles and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She’s clearly about to respond to him—flirt right back, undoubtedly—but your father stands up and taps his glass with a spoon before she can open her mouth. “I want to make a toast,” he says, and you send him a silent, heartfelt thank you when Mina wisely chooses to make herself scarce. “Congratulations to Jungkook and Jimin, our two rad grads!”

An audible groan rises up from your side of the table, where Jimin has buried his face in his hands. “Oh my god, Dad.”

“What?” your father asks innocently. “I really think you’re rad, grad!”

Jimin groans again, muffled by the sleeves of his jacket. “I want the earth to swallow me whole.”

Laughter all around. More toasts are given, and the bottles of soju scattered around the table slowly dwindle down to their last dregs. Junghyun picks up the one closest to him and fills up your glass for the fourth time, drawing a protesting whine from your lips as you try to cut him off. “Wait, that’s not fair! Pour some for yourself too!”

“Relax, we can always order more,” Junghyun says with a laugh, topping off your glass before glancing around to find Mina. Much to your irritation, she’s already headed your way, bearing loaded platters of meat and vegetables and wearing a bright smile that seems to only be directed to Jungkook.

“I hope you’re all hungry!” she chirps, coming to a stop between you and the subject of her affections. You swear she shoots you a dirty look over her shoulder before turning back to the table, her cheerful facade back in place as she smiles at Jungkook. “Where did you want me to put the meat?”

“Anywhere it’ll fit,” Jungkook tells her with a suggestive smirk, keeping his voice soft enough so that only you and she can hear.

Mina cannot hide her answering smile. Likewise, you cannot hide the way your nostrils flare, throat bobbing as you swallow down the ugly feelings bubbling up in your chest. You can feel Jungkook’s gaze roving across your skin, but you refuse to look at him, stubbornly facing the front as Mina distributes food around the table. As soon as she’s departed again—her fingers brushing across the back of Jungkook’s chair in the process—you’re up and out of your seat, heart beating faster than you’d like to admit.

“Restroom,” you say shortly by way of explanation. It’s thankfully empty when you arrive, and you immediately make a beeline toward the sink to splash some cold water on your cheeks.

It’s absurd—this snaking jealousy coiling in your belly and winding up between the slats of your ribcage. Straightening up, you give your reflection in the mirror a stern look, silently willing the feelings in your chest to abate. Gradually, your heartbeat slows into a regular rhythm, your cheeks cooling, and after waiting another two minutes, you decide that it’s been long enough. Drying off your hands, you exit the restroom and wind your way back to the table, keeping your pace leisurely even when Jungkook looks up and catches your eye. His expression is unreadable, and you valiantly ignore his burning gaze as you take a seat.

“How is everything?” you ask Junghyun, picking up a spoon and piling your plate with food from the nearest platter.

Junghyun pauses mid-bite to answer. His mouth opens, but you don’t catch his answer because there is a sudden, heavy weight on your knee. A warm palm caresses the skin exposed by the hem of your dress, slow and sensual and deliberate. Your eyes widen and your lips part, but no sound escapes. The rest of the table’s occupants fade away into the background, conversations and laughter dulling into a low drone. Beside you, Junghyun is still talking, but all you can hear is blood rushing through your ears.

And on your other side, Jungkook is smirking.

The bastard.

Gentle fingertips skim along your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Your entire body stiffens, but Jungkook refuses to relent. He’s still chatting with Jimin, chuckling at a joke you didn’t hear, and you wonder how he can remain so calm when you are anything but. Your heart takes off in a sprint, clattering wildly against your ribcage, and for a few moments you are absolutely positive that everyone at the table can hear. Any moment, one of your parents will look over and see how wide your eyes are and how warm your cheeks feel. Any moment, Jimin will look down and see his best friend’s arm snaking beneath the table and realize what’s happening.

And then Jungkook squeezes your thigh, and all thought flies out of your head, dissipating like fog in the sunlight. He’s growing increasingly bold, his fingers trailing up until he can trace the hem of your dress, teasing at the soft material. Your breath hitches in your throat, and Jungkook’s smirk widens. You can see him out of the corner of your eye, trying to hide his smugness behind his soju glass, and for a moment you’re tempted to throw his drink in his face.

But more than that—more than anything else right now—you want him to continue touching you.

He’s sliding beneath your dress now, inching down to the delicate skin of your inner thigh and tracing nonsensical patterns there. You grip the edge of the table as he trails closer and closer to the lace of your panties, knuckles turning white against the dark wood. It’s a wonder no one has noticed your flustered state yet, and you cast concerned glances at Junghyun and Jimin before Jungkook notices your inattention. Punishingly, he slides a single finger into your panties, snapping the lace against your skin and covering the sound with a cough that he buries in his elbow. He can’t hide the way you jolt in your seat though, your knee thudding against the table. Junghyun gives you a worried look, laying a hand on your shoulder as he asks if you’re okay, and you hurriedly nod. And underneath the table, Jungkook resumes his ministrations, languorous and soft and deliberately avoiding the place you need him most, as if he has all the time in the world.

There’s a growing damp spot between your legs. You can feel it seeping through the cottony material of your panties, sticking uncomfortably to your folds. Jungkook’s touch is whisper-soft, caressing along your thigh until your skin is tingling, and it’s all you can do to swallow down the whimper that’s bubbling up in your throat. He’s thoroughly enjoying this—you can tell—and you’re certain he can feel the way you tense up when he suddenly drags a single finger up your clothed slit. A low hiss escapes your parted lips, and in an instant, all eyes are on you.

“Noona?” Jimin asks curiously. “Something wrong?”

“I—” Your mind whirs, searching for an excuse. “It’s nothing. I’m fine. The, uh, sauce was just spicier than I was expecting it to be.”

You haven’t touched a single thing on your plate in minutes, but no one seems to notice your obvious lie. Conversation resumes, and you determinedly pick up your spoon again, intent on getting something more substantial in your belly than the fluttering butterflies that have taken up residence there.

“You sure you want to eat that, Noona?” Jungkook’s voice reaches your ears—a low, dulcet purr that sends electricity shooting down your spine. “You should probably drink some water to cool down.”

And before you can answer—before you even manage to reach for your water glass—he’s slipped his hand into your panties, the warm pad of his thumb pressing experimentally against your clit. The slight pressure has you gasping, your heart pounding hard enough to leap out of your chest as you drop your spoon. Your hands drop down to your lap—one gripping the edge of your chair while the other finds its way around Jungkook’s wrist, and you aren’t sure whether you’re trying to stop him or spur him on. His arm muscles flex underneath your fingertips, and that’s all the warning you get before he angles his hand, a lone finger sinking inside your drenched entrance.

“Oh, fuck.” You can’t stop the strangled curse that escapes your lips, an airy hiss from behind clenched teeth. Your grip on Jungkook’s wrist tightens, but it doesn’t seem to dissuade him at all as he begins a leisurely pace, sinking deeper into your cunt with each thrust.

Luckily, no one hears your whimper. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you bite back the sounds threatening to spill out and instead focus on maintaining as neutral an expression as you can muster. Beneath the table, Jungkook remains relentless. Even when your mother looks over and addresses him directly, he doesn’t cease his ministrations, keeping both his tone and his pace even as he responds.

“Jungkookie, you’ve barely touched your pork belly. Are you full already?”

“Stuffed,” Jungkook replies smoothly. He punctuates the word by adding a second finger, and you almost bang your knee on the table again, your eyes going wide at his audacity.

Your mother pushes the platter of meat closer to him anyway. “No need to be polite, honey. Here, eat up.”

Obligingly, Jungkook picks out a few pieces with his free hand and piles them on his plate. “Thanks, Mrs. Park,” he says as he brings some to his mouth. “It’s delicious.”

Satisfied, your mother turns her attention elsewhere. Jungkook returns his to you, and you almost groan aloud when his thumb brushes against your clit again, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bud before he sheathes both fingers inside you once more. There’s a growing heat coiling in the pit of your stomach by this point, lighting every single one of your nerves on fire. Your body is screaming for release, and Jungkook seems more than eager to give it to you. He’s freed his wrist from your grip, leaving you to clutch helplessly at the table as he angles his fingers upward. No doubt he’s searching for the spot that will have you seeing stars, and you know he’s found it when a sudden burst of pleasure spikes through you. Your mouth falls lax, and Jungkook grins, thoroughly satisfied.

There’s something building inside you, something that has your tummy tensing and your toes curling in your shoes. Jungkook’s fingers dig deep, his palm rubbing against your clit with every thrust, and it takes every remaining ounce of your self-control to resist the urge to rock your hips into his hand. A bit more of that delicious friction, and you’ll be falling over the edge. You know it, and so does Jungkook if the smirk on his face is anything to go by.

And then a voice is pulling you back to reality, a warm hand settling on your shoulder. You flinch at the contact, your startled gaze flying up to Junghyun’s, and balk when you see him staring at you with equal parts amusement and concern.

“I—what?” you stammer. “Did… did you say something?”

Beneath the table, you feel Jungkook’s fingers retreat, leaving you empty and aching for release. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook wipe his glistening hand on his napkin, a frown that can only be described as petulant settling onto his face.

“Whoa, relax!” Junghyun drags your attention back to him, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I just wanted to say goodbye. I have to be up early for work tomorrow, so I’m driving back into the city tonight.”

“Oh!” It takes you a few seconds to process his words. “Right, yeah. Have a safe drive back. It was good to see you.”

“Ditto,” he replies, flashing you a warm grin. “But hey, are you all right? You’ve been a little weird the whole night. Was it the food?”

Gratefully, you seize upon the excuse. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. I think maybe something isn’t sitting quite right in my stomach, but I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about it.”

He nods and leans in for a hug. “Take care of yourself, yeah?”

“You too. Bye, Junghyun.”

With the elder Jeon brother’s departure, everyone else quickly decides that it’s time to disperse as well. You adamantly refuse to look in Jungkook’s direction as your parents fight over the bill, focusing your goodbyes on Mr. and Mrs. Jeon even when he glances your way with a knowing little smirk and a soft murmur of, “Bye, Noona.”

You can’t look at him. Not when every movement reminds you just how damp your panties are, your core begging for relief. Not when he’s waggling his fingers in farewell—the gesture anything but innocent. “Bye,” you warble weakly, before fleeing to the car.

The memory of his fingers burns fresh in your mind later that night as you lie in bed, your hand stuffed down your panties and working furiously to find that sweet, sweet relief.

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #kpop scenarios #brother's best friend!au #brother's best friend au #lia writes

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fear-and-delight-l · 3 years

Text

GENDERSWAPPED!LOSERS

HERE WE GO

JILLIAN DENBROUGH

-Jill is very avid about getting her sister, Georgia back. Well, at least the killer anyways.

-Jill has never finished any of her writing, until she is an adult.

-aRTiSt??

-Jill gives hugs hugs hugs!!!

-everyone wants her hugs.

-ok, Jill is very sexually confused. Bradley Marsh is good looking...but so is McKenna Hanlon with her pink lipstick and her always good looking pigtails....then there is Sarah Uris, who is so cute with her blonde/brown curls and her little cheerleading outfit.

-suffers from stuttering simp disorder

-simp simp simp

-simp? Yes.

-ok but I think she would like Plastic Hearts by Miley Cyrus lmao

-FLANNEL GODDESS!!! Has flannels in so many colors.

-”R-R-Riley, stop m-making fun of m-my j-j-jorts.”

-oh yeah. She is rocking the jean shorts. They either go to around her knees or near the middle of her thighs.

-shoulder length brown hair. Screams bisexual.

RILEY TOZIER

-just gonna put this out there, take it as you will, but her glasses make her look like a fish. Her eyes are HUGE

-goddess or (what is a non-binary god? Godthem?) of dad jokes. But not the corny kind. The kind of dad jokes that include sleeping with him and “riding him like a horse.”

-”so not fucking funny.” -Edith Kaspbrak, who’s dad isn’t even present in her life. -yeah, bisexual. -sexual for Edith Kaspbrak. -And Sarah Uris

-And Bradley Marsh

-and Jill Denbrough

-and Brenna Hanscom

-and Patrick Hockstetter (she regrets this. But when Patrick isn’t chasing her with Bowers and Criss and Huggins, she likes to notice that Patrick is definitely good looking)

-crazy wavy hair. Seriously, she wears it in a pixie cut, and it is CRAZY. But she help Bradley cut away his mullet.

-the friendship dynamic between Riley Tozier and Bradley Marsh is UNSTOPPABLE!

-plays softball with Jill. She is pitcher, and damn is she good. (Jill plays third base, for reference)

-the girls on the softball team sort of like her, sort of not. She’s a loser, and they don’t like her because everyone thinks she’s queer. -still a trash mouth

-still a smartass

-Rildeth? Edithley? Redith?

BRADLEY MARSH

-all right, here we go.

-POWER BISEXUAL

-He came out to Riley, and Riley came out to him.

-daddy issues

-anyways, Bradley had a mullet that his dad made him wear, and when Riley helped him cut it....freedom!

-when he and the other losers are going to the quarry, he likes to help McKenna pick flowers so Sarah will have some to turn into flower crowns

-is totally charmed by Jill Denbrough. He is a simp for how charming she is. Bravery, art...

-Bradley also likes to draw.

-Brenna may be totally smitten with him....

-Bradley is the same age as all the other losers, but the losers all see him as older.

-hates his father, feels weak around him.

-he and Riley often share cigarettes. (I love the friendship dynamic here.)

-Bradley has little freckles, and when he and Brenna get together as adults, Brenna likes to kiss all of them.

-Bradley loves to hang with Sarah, and she is such a sweetie. She gets annoyed, but when she is around Bradley, she is calm.

-Bradley likes to put his arm around Sarah, ALWAYS

-I’m in love

SARAH URIS

-WE LOVE OUR JEWISH CHEERLEADER LESBIAN

-yes, Sarah Uris is cheer captain. The other cheerleaders are skeptical of her, but treat her ok nonetheless.

-Sarah Uris is a softie who will tell you to fuck off.

-bridwatcher. Sarah loves her birds. She likes to sit with Jill. Jill draws birds while Sarah quietly talk about the birds.

-Brenna loves to play with her curls, braiding them and doing fun styles with them with the help from McKenna.

-sundresses one day, shorts and a shirt the next.

-her hair is so nice! Think...classic curls. Google for reference.

-the cheerleaders don’t go to track meets or softball games. So, since Brenna and Edith are both in track and Jill and Riley are softball players, she goes in her own cheerleading outfit, and even snags one for McKenna, (who isn’t a cheerleader.) and they both cheer at track and softball.

-must I remind you that Jill is a simp for BOTH OF THEM. AND BRADLEY?? HE CHEERS THEM ON TOO.

-one time Bradley actually got into a cheerleading skirt??!!

-anyways, back to Sarah. -she loves to give everyone kisses before leaving. Here’s how she gives them:

Jill: cheek kiss, runs a hand through her hair. Edith: takes Edith’s face in her hands and kisses her nose. Edith sometimes backs up a little when she feels a little panicky about germs, but always accepts Sarah’s kiss. Bradley: forehead. She ruffles his hair, and sometimes, Bradley kisses her chin as she is kissing his forehead. McKenna: near her lips. Like, the corner of her mouth. 🥺 Brenna: cheek kiss. She holds brenna’s chin while kissing her. Riley: straight on the lips. Or the forehead if you song ship stozier. -ok, I am a huge fan of Sarah+Riley....but then there is Edith. Poly??? Possibly

-anyways, Sarah loves to make flower crowns and put them in bradley’s hair.

-she and Brenna are very close. If Sarah isn’t next to Bradley, or has Riley’s arm around her shoulders, she is with Brenna, either holding her hand or showing her stuff about plants or birds. She gives Brenna constant praise about the barrens

-very grumpy a lot.

BRENNA HANSCOM

ok, Brenna is straight. I didn’t change that. -Brenna thinks constructively, and is a visual learner. Constantly thinks about the future.

-ok, she is so so so sweet. Likes to wear this cute pink skirt, but only around the losers.

-POETRY

-She loves to read and wrote poetry. It’s so cute I just can’t aaaah-

-ok, so she’s on the track team. Edith convinces her in 10th grade.

-HAIR CLIPS! she has them in her hair, and tons extra in her backpack.

-Bradley loves it when Brenna plays with his hair and puts clips in it.

-she and Bradley are very good friends.

-she may be straight, but isn’t uncomfortable when Sarah holds her hand or Riley talks about her gay situation or when Jill tells her she’s pretty. She just isn’t gay but she loves and supports her gay friends. She even kissed McKenna in a game of spin the bottle

-poor baby has body insecurities...

-ugh, she hates Henry Bowers. But she loves ice cream! She likes vanilla because it’s sweet and plain.

-when they have sleepovers, everyone always has a disc of New Kids on the Block to play for her (AAA!)

-Riley literally swore to protect her. Even though Riley’s sarcasm can be demeaning, she trusts her.

-Brenna Hanscom, a sweetie that will fight for you.

McKenna Hanlon, the badass vegan who definitely has WAP.

-ok, I didn’t change her race, she is still black.

-McKenna is a sign of hope. Everyone feels so uplifted around her.

-she has this signature pink lipstick she wears everyday the Greta Bowie makes fun of, but she still wears it.

-she loves bubblegum. McKenna has it ALL THE TIME.

-inspiration? Yes. She is a goddess.

-ok, she is so nice, but that gun she has? Pennywise doesn’t stand a chance. McKenna is a fighter.

-McKenna has these cute little pig tails that she wears with purple ribbons. Jill loves to listen to her talk.

-definitely the least insane of all the losers, but girl knows how to have fun!

-not a huge smoker, but occasionally will share one with Bradley.

-the friendship between McKenna and Bradley is impeccable. They are a badass duo.

-I don’t know what her sexuality is. She definitely doesn’t. Although she and Jill got caught making out in a closet. They said it was no strings attached....suspicious.

-she is indeed vegan. She just has a special love for animals and can’t bring herself to eat them. She isn’t protesting everyone to go vegan, she just eats how she wants. She occasionally slips and goes for ice cream though😉

-at the rock war, after she recovered a little from Bowers, SHE BEAT HIS ASS!

-my queen, gosh I love her!

-she is so much fun to be around. One time, in the barrens, she installed a swing so she could sit in somethin because Riley and Edith and Sarah are always in the hammock together. (It’s bound to break).

-need a therapist? She’s ya girl.

EDITH!!

-ok, so this looks very soft girl, but Edith is fiery! -her mom makes her worry a lot about disease and what not, but her anxiety about what her mom may do is worse.

-seriously, she is scared of her mother. She doesn’t even know if her sickness are real.

-anyways, don’t fuck with her. She will bite you.

-no seriously, she will bite you. One time in a fight with Hockstetter, she bit him. She was worried she might have gotten something in her mouth, but Sarah calmed her down. -she may bicker with Riley, but really, she loves her. Her and her stupid glasses,

-anyways, she is a sweetie. She runs track, but as long as Riley is waiting on the sidelines with her inhaler at the end, she is alright.

-someone give this girl a hug.

-internalized homophobia towards herself.

-she and Bradley are good, they just aren’t as close. Edith is closest with Jill.

-Edith looks up to Jill, big time.

-Edith hates her mom very very much.

-she wears cute little tops with shorts or skirts. Occasionally she will wear overalls.

-fuck greta Bowie campaign? Yeah, Edith started it.

-Fanny pack! She has an extra pair of glasses for Riley, Bobby pins for Sarah, an extra pen or pencil for Jill, a mini stick of Bradley’ favorite deodorant, hair clips for Brenna, and McKenna’s favorite bubblegum.

-Riley calls her Eds. She hates it because it sounds like a boy name. She hates it even more when Riley calls her Eddie.

-kisses tears away. Crying? She will kiss your cheeks and wipe those tears away. She did that when Brenna got cut by Bowers.

-inhaler? Yes. It’s her little beacon of safety.

-ice cream and comic books with Riley, bird watching and flower crowns with Sarah are her favorites!

-doesn’t know her sexual preference, she’s just not straight.

-butterflies always land on her when she’s outside. One landed on her nose once and Riley and Sarah started rock-paper-scissoring for who got her. (That was long forgotten since Riley is a sore loser.)

-my baby has long hair is very slight waves. It goes down to her breasts.

-likes to wear Jill’s Flannels.

-OK SHE IS SO CUTE IN A PAIR OF BAGGY JEANS AND A TANK TOP, WEARING SOMEONE’S JACKET OMG

-Edith is cold? Never. She always has someone’s something, whether it’s McKenna’s iconic leather jacket or Jill’s flannels

................................................................................................................................

Ok! Those are my headcanons. Feel free to repost, I don’t give a damn. If you want drawings or more headcanons of them, I am always open. I had this posted on my old account but that got taken down....I was previously coffeeandweasleys

@im-a-rocketman, @nate-isnt-great @imreddieimreddieimreddie @ur-not-reddie

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mami-koppe · 4 years

Text

Desperate - Dabi x Reader

This is my first fic ever in this fandom pls be gentl. no beta reader WE DIE LIKE SCUM. Also please note that english is not my native language so if you find something wrong *please* point it out 👀 Enjoy!

TW: smut, angst, mentions of drug use and abortion, violence, yadda yadda. aaa

Cyan eyes open up, alarmed and scared and anxious, only relaxing when following the rise and fall of the lump under the white comforter set just beside him. He knows he shouldn't be here; he's had a few more nightmares about a fellow villain finding out about your existence than he was comfortable with. In his dreams they would tear down your house, break the heirloom grandfather clock in your hallway, ravage all the cabinets and drawers (maybe they would find that picture of him under your Christmas-decorated pine tree, the only proof you had of his existence intermingled with yours, and you thought you hid it oh so well but Dabi's far more smarter than that). A shiver runs down his spine and he breaks a sweat when he imagines if Overhaul was the one raiding your apartment. The yakuza boss would most likely delight himself in breaking and putting you back together, again and again, only so he could leave in your bedroom wall a myriad of blood splatters for Dabi to find and grieve for. Chisaki would make sure he wouldn't even have a body to bury. Maybe if he was feeling lucky, not even a brick of your house would be intact, your whole life only resisting in Dabi's memory.

He wishes he could be honourable and selfless enough to say that's the main reason he never bothered to officialise your relationship; but even greater than the fear of coming home and finding your body reduced to a pulp, is the fear of being vulnerable (yet again). He kinda cares about you, yes, he can say that much, and anyone who has met you for more than 15 minutes know that you're in deep. He's not that emotionally stunted. But he's jaded enough to know that caring is a concept with many translations and definitions, and if you so happened to have a different one than he did, specially if that concept involved controlling and screaming and fighting and black bruises all over his back while his skin burned off at every flash of his quirk painfully taking over his body ... He couldn't just sit down and wait to find out.

Also, you seem pretty fine with this arrangement. He has a knack this has less to do with letting him roam free range, and far more with knowing that as soon as you express the need to define the feelings that have grown stronger and stronger for over three years, he will be out the door to never come back. And that simply won't do.

Almost as sensing his distress, you wake up and wrap both your arms around his neck. He tenses for a fraction of second, then relaxes, reaching out for the cigarette pack you leave in the nightstand just for him.

_ "What's on your mind, babe? You seem real distracted. I know you're usually kinda emo but that much brooding just isn't you. Are you okay? Perhaps you're having... cravings again? Did something happen? Was it crusty fuck again? If he tried to decay your face again, I'm so gonna fuck him up..." You run his fingers through his coarse hair, trying to show your adoration while lightly pressing your lips to his jaw and he shudders both from your ministrations and the mentions of his past cravings.

_ "...Whoa whoa whoa, calm down princess. Why are you even awake? It's still really fucking early for so many questions. One would think you would be out like a light by now, since we had so much fun last night, but guess I haven't fucked you hard enough if you still have half a mind to think about all that, dollface. And fuck you, I'm not emo." – he stops, cringing at his out-of-nowhere flirting and vague answers, hoping you don't see right through his crude words, thrown around in case you haven't noticed he's been shaking for the last 20 minutes.

Please don't notice. Please let it go. Please don't point it out.

_ "...Yeah, maybe you're right. But I should be asking you the same, it's 2am and you still got the energy to lewd me. And YES you are emo and well fuck you too. Forget I asked anything, love, if you want to we can talk about that tomorrow morning. Can't afford to be tense when tomorrow's gonna be such a long day, right? So what do you say about letting me tire us both out so we can finally have a full cycle of sleep?", you say, and in that moment he knows that you know.

The sudden pause in your sleep ridden speech tells that you have at least an idea that he's not fine in the slightest, but decided to just ignore it, knowing that your black haired lover wouldn't want to talk about it anyway. So you lift a leg just above his hipbone to pull him closer to your hot, warm core, both of you still naked and spent from your previous lovemaking, one of the few displays of affection he's completely comfortable with.

He runs his hands all over your sides, commiting them to his memory (just in case common sense comes to you without knocking and you finally leave him); suddenly his hands find your hair and tug at your nape, pulling your neck back to find his charred lips. Your smells mingle together, and it's all a blur of smoke, sandalwood, scotch and black pepper.

You kiss him, bringing his mouth towards yours with fervor, while slowly stroking his manhood, pausing around his tip, smearing his precum on your mouth with your fingers (you know he loves seeing you covered in him, and after all these years he wouldn't man up and admit it freely, so you tease him to no end). He can't find it in himself to be rough to you tonight, but it seems you have different plans because it doesn't look like you'll be patient enough for foreplay; and in a blink you are tangled in a mess of sheets and legs and sweat, him sliding swiftly into your heat, appreciating the drag of his swollen tip inside your pussy, going in and out roughly, the fast paced rythm of your skin slapping together only stopping when you feel the familiar head rush of your impeding orgasm and the sensation of his white hot seed spilling deep inside your throbbing center.

His low moans fill the room as he feels you tightly clenching around him; you cannot follow him in his vocal declarations due to being physically incapable of screaming anymore, a mix of pleas and gasps falling out your lips as he bottoms out and groans your name, fucking his cum deeper inside of you. The space between your foreheads close, both heavily panting near each others mouths, following a kiss that's way too sweet considering your personalities.

For a moment, he kinda wants to say those damned three words, but he will be dead before he makes a fool of himself like that, so he kisses your forehead and pull you to his chest, helping himself to a now dreamless sleep.

-------------------------------------------------

It's one of your biggest flaws yet: you are far worse in keeping secrets than you give yourself credit for.

In the five years you spent together, he has plenty of evidence to support this case – all the gifts that were supposed to be a surprise, the job promotion you were hoping to disclose about at a movie night in your house (that said promotion tumbling out of your mouth in one of your daily, unimportant phone calls), the stray cat you tried to adopt without his knowledge (because obviously he would say no without even thinking about it, but now Tama's getting fatter and meaner than ever and Dabi lives for it), and you always said it was the other way around, that Dabi was the one who was way too good at uncovering things that he wasn't supposed to.

And in that exact moment, he wishes you were wrong, because the ripped blue cardboard box he finds forgotten in your bathroom floor just behind the toilet – probably fallen, since it's a bad habit of yours to let your shit fall all over the floor and eventually forget to pick it up – looks too much like the ones he would see in drugstores and at that time Shigaraki made him work undercover for a week in a brothel to gather intel about a winged pro hero who was kind of a degenerate, and he freezes.

He sensed something wrong weeks ago, your delicious skin even more tender to the touch and your face perpetually stuck in a barely concealed frown. He tried to ask you what's the matter a few times, before finally granting you the same leniency given to him when he was having a bad day and wanted to be left alone.

Now the only things going through Dabi's head is "why didn't she tell me", "wasn't she on birth control", "what the fuck is going on" and suddenly he understands why his – wife? girlfriend? lover? fuck buddy? SHIT – always said that some things can't just be left ignored. He never wanted to get high so much in his life.

Like a man possessed, he goes through your trash (it's not like he's not used to some dumpster diving and other unsavoury survival skills, since being a kinda prolific villain can only happen so late in life and before that, you have an empty stomach and way less standards than you'd like to), pausing when he finds what he was dreading: a fucking plastic wire, adorned with two dark pink lines. His eyes begin to blur and he can only thank so much you're at work right now so you can't hear his raging shouts ressonating around your room.

-------------------------------------------------

He does what he does best: he ignores it, simply leaving it all exactly where he found it and waits for you to come home. He helps you cook your favourite meal – you insist it's his turn to choose, but he says he's craving yours – runs you a bath, making sure to douse every crevice of your body in that cherry body wash he loves to smell in you, makes love to you until your head spins and your body is feeling almost bloated with his essence.

Can't get anymore pregnant than that, huh?

He asks about your day, and you let it all out, and every time you make that face you do when you want to tell him something important, he kisses you until you're breathless and changes the subject.

He desperately hopes you choose to keep it.

Then, after you're sleeping soundly on his naked chest, he brings out the duffel bag he hid earlier beneath his side of the bed, gets dressed, gives Tama his beloved wet food, sitting him down for a few minutes of belly rubs and leaves your home, his home, sending you a text through his burner phone that tells you too much about an undercover mission for the LOV that might last for years and none about where your relationship stands.

He's never felt so inadequate. Suddenly he hates being a villain.

He hopes you might catch the underlying forlorn tone in his words – that this is a "goodbye", not a "see you soon" – and not foolishly wait for him to come back. But he kinda knows it is unreasonable to expect you to move on and find a more loving, present person to warm your bed, put a smile on your face, a ring on your left hand, give his only child a decent attempt of a family, promise you the world and keep that promise. He leaves knowing that much.

And as you wake up in the middle of the night, with a cold bed, an empty apartment, a text and the briefest memory of Dabi lovingly kissing your midriff, you cry out for what could have been. Said text was supposed to be monotonous, robotic even, and it's so much like Dabi to go on a mission without wanting to say goodbye in person (because he's too cool for that) that normally you wouldn't even bat an eye, but you know you'll never see him again because of the words adorning the end of your screen.

I love you.

--------------------------------------------------

Yet again, Dabi's dreams haven't ever been easy on him. He jumps out of the bed, startled, as he fumbles with a bag of white pills which he spent the last year or so sneaking from your sight and angrily swallows four at once; the image of a little girl with her grandmother's hair and his azure eyes, no older than three, tightly clutching his hand and smiling. It's way too early in the morning for this shit and he can't be bothered to deal with that yet. Not sober.

Papa, look! I've drawn us today at school! I've made sure you look cool enough like you asked, okay? That's you in your coat, that's mama, that's Tama and that's me!

He's not sure he should burn the image to his mind or off his mind. He still hears your stupid giggles in the back of his head (probably it doesn't help that he has been watching almost daily for the last six months that particular video of you hollering, high as a kite, when he and the LOV raided the compounds of a drug cartel that was antagonising their plans, and let's say that Dabi has come home that day with more than a few weed satchels).

Feeling the top of his head getting heavier and his eyes blurring with difficulty to focus, he clings to the porcelain sink in his hotel room, mindlessly bangs his head on the cabinet just below the small mirror until his forehead is openly bleeding – not that he can feel anything when he's like that anyway, but he DID always try – and lets himself fall to his knees, silently glaring at the floor.

He somberly notes that his blood has painted the bathroom floor a vibrant red. He hopes yours isn't painted too.

Later that day when he has already puked almost all the drugs out his system, he and Kurogiri are sent on a minor errand; some human trafficking ring leader, a former ally, was threatening to spill out their secrets and they were to break and enter, kill him swiftly and move on with their lives, no biggie. But as he steps into the compound – a shell orphanage, he notes – Dabi knows it's not going to be a normal mission. Soon as the children know the leader's dead, most of them flee, making a run for their long lost freedom; but a small group, maybe six or seven of them, stays. And usually Dabi is proud of being the nonchalant, motionless member of the party, but with the late events even he can't help to be a little horrified when he notices that children as young as four have the same eyes he had when he fled his childhood home, Ende- his house.

Children that have seen so much grief and despair they can't be bothered to exit the building, even when he irritatedly screams at them to get out already as the walls roar up in flames. They have no reason for escaping; their will to go on died way before their bodies did. He can look into their eyes and tell already that they will turn out to be like him, or worse. This would be the perfect time for a rookie wide-eyed pro hero to appear and save these innocent children just so they can grow up so emotionally damaged that they will turn to villainy, to be eventually caught and brutally murdered by the very same hero.

Dabi knows the kids will stay rooted to the same spot until they're engulfed by the flames or choked up in poisonous smoke and that's gonna take so much longer; he's already in deep shit with Shigaraki because he said "no witnesses" and so many of them have already fled, so he does what he does best – ignores the vision he has of that little girl, his little girl, embraced by the blue fire of his body as he gives the children the most quick, painless death he can think of.

Dabi's thankful that they don't bother to make a sound. He doesn't think he could stay clean for much longer if he could hear the white haired girl's voice in the squeals and pitiful sobs of the children who stayed behind.

--------------------------------------------------

He returns to his empty hotel room that day, still hearing Shigaraki's screeches ringing in his ear, and the only thing he wants to do is to swallow the whole bag of pills he still has under his mattress and doze off until he chokes up on his own vomit and doesn't wake up the next morning, but he cannot die, not yet, and that night he remembers the children's empty glares as he brings out the half full bottle of whiskey sitting besides his bed and drinks till he's tumbling unconsciously down the wall.

The morning after he wakes up a little emptier inside and his sheets are actually wet with the sweat he expelled during his goriest nightmare yet, but the possibility that yet another child is going to end like the ones he has spared killed the day before drives him mad with frustration. And then, he takes the longest steps he's ever taken in your home's direction.

-------------------------------------------------

This time, is your turn to wake up in a sweat. You can clearly hear the noise of a window lock being picked (your former lover did this way too much in the beginning of your relationship, so much you suspected that he did it for fun, even when you gave him a spare key), and the sheer panic that runs through your whole being when your brain computes it's the nursery window lock being picked, you grab the pistol Dabi gave to you after a night out with your friends almost went sour in a robbery, and runs to your newborn daughter's room. You can feel the tears gathering around your eyes, desperate to hear her make any sound – anything to know she's alive – and when you kick the door open, the gun in your hands seems heavier than it does when shooting, as soon as you reckon the black hair and blue eyes you loved (honestly, love) so much, you seem to forget how to breathe.

The father of your child is holding onto her so tightly, a pained but relieved expression on his face as he clutches her so close to his warm chest, and you feel something wet running down both your cheeks as he presses his trembling lips to her forehead, almost like he expected to find the spare room in your apartment just the way he saw last, empty and full of broken spare parts of utensils and furniture. Your daughter is not bothered at all, like she recognizes him even if she never met him before and your heart is so confused.

Is he gonna leave again?

You longed for him throughout all your pregnancy, wanting him to know he was going to be a father, wanting him to see her first sonograms, feel her first kicks but you knew Dabi could only be there when his mission was over. And you waited, even if every cell in your brain screamed at you for it, confirming what you already suspected – he's abandoned you, both of you.

He thought that maybe you would be gullible enought to believe he was gone for a few months, not the slightest intention of leaving you behind, but in that moment, he knows that you know. And as you choose to let it go once again, he feels all the weight on his shoulders disappear as you both say, in unison:

"Welcome home."

#dabi x reader #bnha x reader #dabi x y/n #bnha x y/n #bnha angst

88 notes · View notes

ambitionsource · 4 years

Photo

AMBITION Season 3 ♫ “The Beginning of the Rest of Your Life” [ 3.01 ]

CREATED BY Esther (waterstribe) & Maggie (dylanporlando) || Official Page || AO3

OUR LAST SUMMER – The Adams gang takes advantage of the final week of summer, while Charlie begins his senior year at Haverford Prep. Zay wraps up his run in West Side Story. Dylan and Asher pay Isadora a visit, and Farkle gets help from an unlikely source.

60 Minutes (23K words) || No content warnings apply.

[ ← The Sun Will Rise ] [ S3 Synopsis ] [ Almost There → ]

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY

Riley’s newest accommodations are about the same as we last left them, two beds still arranged in the space. The reminder of why there’s two appears when MAYA HART reenters the space, fresh out of the shower and wrapped up in a plush baby pink towel. She’s starting her day right, bright and early, going through her usual glam routine even in the summer.

She pauses to look at Riley’s bed, unmade and empty. In fact, it looks like it hasn’t been touched since the previous morning. Next to it, the window is open, letting in the summer breeze.

Maya makes a face, tsking with a shake of her head. Well, this can only end well. Then she shrugs, spinning to her side of the room. She places her phone down on the vanity and scrolls to a playlist titled “Mama’s Favorites.” With the press of a button, music fills the room, and so does that energetic spirit of AMBITION.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “All Summer Long” as performed by Kid Rock || Performed by Maya Hart (feat. AAA Seniors)

The rollicking old-fashioned rock tune injects a rhythm into the otherwise quiet morning, giving Maya something to groove to as she moves around getting ready. She sings along to the music, taking over the vocals for the most part.

She moves over to the wall where her future moodboard is hanging up, right above a year calendar. It’s August, though obviously the summer month is nearing its end. Maya scratches out the current day, Monday, leaving us to linger on the details scribbled onto the following Monday as she dances away. The 31st. Last day of August, and for them, the last day of summer.

Next to a bright red star sticker, a few simple words. “Last First Day @ AAA.”

EXT. ORLANDO COMMUNITY CENTER - DAY

The protective rolling door springs up as the Orlando community center opens for the day, DYLAN ORLANDO the one opening the place up that morning. He squints out at the sunshine, then grins, smile bright enough to rival the sun.

INT. ORLANDO COMMUNITY CENTER - DAY

Dylan continues setting up for the day as he slides around, earbuds in his ears and six-string strapped on his back. He’s grown an inch or so over the summer, and his hair is a little longer, though just as windswept and fluffy as usual. Subtle changes, really, but the kind of stuff you notice after a whole hiatus apart.

On the counter, his phone vibrates with a reminder: “Open CC.” Underneath that, we can see texts from Asher.

INT. RILEY’S CAR - DAY

Another phone vibrates on the floor in the backseat of Riley’s sedan. It’s resting against a scrunched up string bag, lighting up with a call from “Dad.” When it goes to voicemail, we see this is not the first call that’s been missed -- in fact, there’s been about six since 8:30AM. Behind all those notifications, we can just make out a lock screen image of Riley, Isadora, and Lucas.

It’s no surprise who is missing all those calls. The last of the vibrations from the call rouse RILEY MATTHEWS, stretched on the backseat where she dozed off. She’s sharing the cramped space with LUCAS JAMES FRIAR, shirtless (there’s an AAA first for the history books) and seemingly unopposed to being half-used as a pillow.

He’s still sound asleep, no stranger to resting in weird places. As Riley wakes up, she takes a long moment to look at him, a dreamy, fond smile drifting across her face. She doesn’t even notice what’s off about the situation, perfectly happy to see him first thing in the morning… until her phone starts buzzing again.

Then, she remembers real quick. Her eyes widen, glancing around and realizing where she is, who she’s with, and the fact that there’s sunlight streaming through the windows. Last she recalls, it was night. She shoots upright.

Riley, harshly: Shit!

She scrambles to grab her phone, repeating the curse. She nudges Lucas to get up, starting to gather her things together. The movement is what actually wakes him up, but his T-shirt getting tossed in his face is what informs him the situation must be urgent.

INT. JACK’S APARTMENT - DAY

JACK HUNTER is having a far less stressful morning, already up and ready to go. He’s dressed casually in a T-shirt and jeans, but he grabs his briefcase as he heads out the door.

INT. JACK’S CAR - APARTMENT GARAGE - DAY

It’s not until he makes it to his car that his morning takes a turn for the worse. Jack turns his key in the ignition and… nothing. He tries again, and gets nothing but a complaining growl of the engine.

Jack: Oh, you’re kidding me…

He tries again, but no. His trusty old car has called it quits. Jack curses under his breath, grabbing his bag and clambering out of the car.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Jack is jogging down the street towards the closest Subway station. He passes by an Off-Broadway theater venue as he goes, our attention shifting to the exterior of it. Outside the theater, a poster of their current production is proudly displayed. West Side Story.

INT. WEST SIDE THEATER - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Contrasting to the bright summer sunshine, the interior of the theater is softer lit, more inviting to the eyes. It’s a well-kept space, obviously a venue that takes itself seriously.

On the stage, performers are stretching and mingling before their cast warm-up, amongst them ZAY BABINEAUX. He’s the youngest by a long shot, but he seems to fit in seamlessly with the rest of them as if he’s a seasoned professional. He cracks jokes with some of his co-stars as he joins them by the orchestra pit, confident and warmly received.

He’s totally in his element. For a moment, it might be easy to forget he’s still a teenager. He shifts into work mode when the DIRECTOR joins them on stage and beckons them together for notes and vocal warm-ups.

She leads them in a quick grounding exercise, encouraging them all to take a deep breath. As they inhale…

INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - DAY

FARKLE MINKUS is also taking a deep breath, though something about the moment seems… off. It isn’t until the screen starts tilting, flipping us right-side up, that it’s clear Farkle is upside down. He’s reclined on his bed, head hanging off the edge as he finishes a breathing meditation exercise guided by his phone.

The moment it ends, he pulls himself back upright. He’s dressed comfortably, but sharper than most of last year, finally approaching a happy medium between the extremes of his personality. His hair has grown back from its buzzcut, closer to the coiff it once was.

He climbs off the bed, heading to his window and drawing back the curtains. Sunlight floods the room, presenting a stark contrast to his state this time last year.

INT. SVORSKI’S COFFEE - DAY

ERIC MATTHEWS is also enjoying the sunshine, soaking it up with a content smile as he waits in line at the local coffee shop. When it’s his turn and he approaches the counter, the barista asks him if he wants “the usual.” He nods, gracing her with a smile and then moving to the area to wait for his order.

While there, he crafts a text on his phone. It’s to Isadora, checking in on her and giving her a list of small reminders for when she wakes up -- brush her teeth, change her clothes, find something to eat, even if it’s small. He also notes that he’ll be back before dinner.

Their message thread seems to be pretty one-sided. Isadora’s answers are sparse, and when she does they’re usually one word. But Eric doesn’t seem perturbed by it.

Once his order is ready and he goes to retrieve it, we see that his “usual” is two coffees. That seems like an awful lot of caffeine to be drinking alone, Eric… he gives the crew at Svorski’s a cheerful wave goodbye, heading out.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY

Maya is further in her glam routine, still owning the song and dancing around the room as she goes. Make-up, hair, the works. She’s wearing a sheer off-white robe over her camisole and shorts, more for the aesthetic than any sort of cover-up -- Sharpay Evans and Cher Horowitz would be proud. The montage continues to cut to her intermittently through the remainder of the song.

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - DAY

Unlike Eric and Jack, not everyone is dressed casually this Monday morning. Quick close shots show the careful process of getting an outfit together -- tightening a striped blue tie, adjusting cuffs, pulling on a deep navy blue blazer.

As we pan up, CHARLIE GARDNER finishes piecing together his Haverford uniform. He looks markedly different from when we last saw him, hair cut much shorter than it was at the end of junior year. He looks great in his uniform, sharp, clean-cut and well-groomed, but he doesn’t look confident in it. It’s more like the uniform is wearing him.

But he doesn’t have time to obsess over it. It’s his first day, and he wants to give himself plenty of time to get oriented. He grabs his bag off the bed with a change of clothes and a pair of dance sneakers. The rest of his dance duffle gets left behind, sitting forgotten by the wall with his guitar.

INT. ORLANDO COMMUNITY CENTER - DAY

Dylan, however, has no shortage of guitar. He takes the guitar solo in the latter half of the song, shredding on his six-string and bopping around the community center.

INT. RILEY’S CAR - DAY

Riley pulls up at the curb to let Lucas out in a rush -- back in his shirt -- questioning if he has everything and passing his phone to him when he almost leaves it on the center console. He’s fully out of the car when she shouts for him to come back one more time.

Riley: Wait, wait, wait --

Lucas leans inside just long enough for Riley to stretch across the seat and give him a kiss. Then she sets him free, assuring him that she’ll catch up with him soon.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Lucas, still a little dazed, backs onto the sidewalk as Riley’s car speeds away. He watches her go, then shakes his head, trying to pull himself back together. He turns and heads inside where she’s dropped him off -- the beloved Chubbies, his new workplace.

INT. GARCIA HOME - ASHER’S BEDROOM - DAY

Another calendar comes into focus, though this one is far more cluttered with notes and reminders than Maya’s. Someone leans in to cross an “X” over the current day, and when we pull back we see a familiar bulletin board populated with photos, flyers, and note cards.

Though there are many new photos from the summer, the most notable is the creased but unfolded photo of Dylan, Lucas, and Asher, back in its rightful place pinned up. Next to it, there’s a pamphlet for a university, the Rochester Institute of Technology.

ASHER GARCIA steps back from the board, shifting his focus to his agenda laying open on the desk. He’s sporting a cute, patterned short-sleeve button down, a summer spin on his usual attire. He gathers up a couple of notebooks and folders for the school year, way ahead of the game in preparing for the school year.

He drops one set into his messenger bag, then puts the others into the backpack slouched against the wall next to it. Based on the Spongebob patch and doodles all over it, it’s no guess who the extra bag belongs to.

INT. ORLANDO COMMUNITY CENTER - DAY

Dylan continues his groovy guitar playing as the song crescendos into the final chorus.

EXT. AAA - DAY

Jack has finally made it to the familiar stomping grounds of Adams Academy for the Arts, jogging up the steps without hesitation.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY

Maya similarly boogies around, now ready for the day.

EXT. HAVERFORD PREP - DAY

Charlie moves with more apprehension as he steps off the main street and onto Haverford’s campus, a spacious chunk of a block on the Upper East Side. The school boasts an open-air, modern architecture, a far cry from the classic structure of Adams. He has to move through the lawn and outdoor eating pavilions before he gets close to the building itself, other boys dressed in the sleek Haverford blue mingling around him.

Taking a deep breath, Charlie braves the plunge and approaches the tall glass doors, disappearing into the belly of the beast.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY

As the song winds down, Riley clambers up the fire escape and back in through her bedroom window. She’s way too late, though, a fuming and frantic CORY MATTHEWS waiting for her return with his arms crossed. Behind him, Maya watches the scene with amusement.

Cory: Riley Erica Matthews!

Riley grimaces, halfway through the window. Busted.

Riley: Oh, shi --

Cue title sequence.

Ladies and gentlemen, it’s with great joy that I finally say: welcome back to AMBITION.

INT. HAVERFORD PREP - PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE - DAY

Charlie is seated in a posh oak chair opposite the desk of AARON JACKSON, who is leisurely leafing through his transfer paperwork. Despite their names, there is little in common between Principal Jackson and Principal Hunter of AAA. Whereas Jack always had an edge of grit, Aaron has a dignified, refined air about him -- the shine of a man who has always known privilege. His office feels the same, darker and more studious in appearance, reflecting the nature of the school.

Still, he’s not without warmth. He seems good-spirited as he gives Charlie a light smile, peering at him over his paperwork. Charlie manages to return it, trying his best not to appear as nervous as he is.

Aaron: Nice recommendations, good community service record. Excellent grades… do you think you may have been valedictorian at Adams?

Charlie: Oh, I don’t know. I had classmates a lot smarter than me in the A class.

Aaron hums, focusing back on the paperwork. Then he sets it on the desk, giving Charlie his full attention.

Aaron: I hope you don’t mind my asking, Mister Gardner, but I’m curious. It’s not often that we get transfers so late in their high school career, especially not from Adams Academy. To be frank, you’d find that a fair handful of your peers here at Haverford had Adams as their first choice when they applied, but didn’t make the cut.

The question goes without saying. What is he doing there, jumping schools, when he likely had it made in the shade at AAA? Charlie clears his throat, offering his practiced charming smile.

Charlie: I just thought that the change of pace might be good for me. Adams is great, of course, and I was sad to leave it. I’m going to miss… it will be an adjustment, for sure, but I’m sure I’ll find exactly the enrichment I need while at Haverford.

Well, hard to argue with that flattering assessment. Aaron doesn’t seem fully convinced, but he brushes it off easily. It’s not his business after all.

Aaron: Well, we’re happy to have you with us regardless. With your impressive record, and your dance ability, I have no doubt you’ll fit well within the ranks of the Haverford senior class.

With that, Aaron gets down to business, shifting to discussing his schedule and how things work at the school. Once they’re done going through the necessary orientation points, Aaron will make sure he gets to performance lab, and his classmates will take it from there.

Charlie maintains his pleasant smile as he’s handed his welcome packet and schedule, but it falters as he starts flipping through it.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Back in the brighter principal’s office, Jack is flurrying about trying to get things in order after his uneven start that morning. Eric appears in his doorway with a cheery greeting, passing off that second coffee to Jack as soon as he notices him and returns his hello. Jack takes the beverage gratefully, commenting that Eric always knows exactly what he needs.

Eric clearly takes pride in the comment, coming further into the room. He comments on Jack’s frazzled state, and Jack explains that his car decided to stop working this morning. As tragic as that news is, Eric doesn’t seem surprised.

Eric: Jack, you’ve been driving that dinosaur for like fifteen years, and it wasn’t new when you bought it. It was bound to crap out eventually.

Jack: William is a fighter, Eric. He wouldn’t just give up on me like that.

Eric rolls his eyes, reminding Jack that he’s way more theatrical than he lets on. He points out that things get old, and they die. It’s the circle of life. Life has a funny way of letting you know when things don’t work as they are anymore, when it’s time to move on.

Eric: I’m more surprised you walked all the way here.

Jack: Subway was running late.

Eric: Not my point. I would’ve given you a ride.

Jack: You’re coming from the opposite direction.

Eric: You know I don’t care about that. I would’ve picked you up.

From the tone of their banter, it’s clear that it wouldn’t be the first time Eric and Jack have carpooled this summer. Jack hesitates, meeting his gaze, before shrugging it off and directing them back to the task at hand. They’ve got a big week ahead, as they have to assess Adams for any damage and make sure everything is in sterling shape before the school year kicks off again.

This year, it matters more than ever. As Jack states, they’ll be having a new coworker join them this year from the school board as an administrative advisor, meant to observe how things are running after the turbulence of the Lucas and Bradford situation last year. So now, they really can’t afford to slip up.

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Speaking of slip-ups, Riley reiterates the morning madness to Farkle and a tickled Maya, sitting in a booth at Chubbies. The divas are across from her while Lucas is seated next to her, arm casually draped around her shoulders as she relays Cory’s tirade and the resulting punishment: she’s basically forbidden from seeing Lucas for the rest of the week, at least until they go back to school and he can’t very well stop them.

Maya: So, like… hanging out at Chubbies?

Riley glances at Lucas, who raises an eyebrow. She clasps her hands together and shrugs, maintaining a tone of innocent sweetness.

Riley: Well, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Farkle: Wow. The summer of love really changed you.

Riley makes a face at him. Lucas claims Cory is going to get what he wants anyway, seeing as he can’t just sit around all day. As he starts to get up from the table his attire becomes clearer, dressed in a pale blue Chubbies t-shirt with an off-white apron tied around his waist. Riley tries to get him to stay, but she still helps him loop the top half of his apron around his neck.

Lucas: I gotta work.

Riley: Okay, okay… but I’ll see you later.

Lucas: Very daring of you.

The two of them exchange a quick kiss, Riley smiling as they pull apart. Maya scrunches her nose, playfully disgusted.

Maya: Ew.

As Lucas marches away, he points back to Maya offhandedly.

Lucas: I’m not serving you.

Maya scowls, holding her hands up in surrender to Riley and Farkle. Farkle laughs, shaking his head. Riley changes the subject, electing to focus on the positive. She claims that maybe the Lucas ban will be a good thing, as it’ll give her plenty of time to spend with her favorite friends in their last week of their last high school summer.

Farkle: Sounds lovely. But can’t.

As Farkle goes on to explain -- bitterly -- he has a million doctors appointments scheduled for the week as his parents are determined to make sure he’s in top shape to go back to school. This is following a whole summer of therapies and overattentiveness and mindfulness exercises -- which he hates, by the way.

Farkle: I’m supposed to have thoughts! If our brains weren’t meant to think, then we wouldn’t think.

Maya: Most people don’t.

Farkle: Point is, mindfulness is bullshit. It makes me feel crazy, and I’m already crazy. It’s just ironic that last year all I wanted was my parents’ attention, and now I can’t wait for them to leave me alone…

Maya: Grass is always greener, darling.

Riley seems disappointed she won’t see more of him this week, but she keeps her sights set on the future. She confirms that he’s still going to go to West Side Story on Saturday night. It’s Zay’s last performance in the production, and she wants to get as many of them there to support him as possible.

Farkle assures her he can manage that, then gets up to head off to his first appointment of the day. Without him, all that leaves for company… is Maya. She gives Riley a sharp smile, Riley laughing awkwardly and dipping her head down to avoid her gaze. Wow, suddenly, she just remembered a bunch of stuff she has to do…

Maya rolls her eyes, leaning across the table to nudge at her. She claims it’ll be a good thing for them to hang out -- they haven’t done very much roommate bonding since they were forced to share a space.

Riley: Something you specifically said you weren’t interested in when it happened…

Maya: Yes, well, times change. Speaking of, our room. That could use some change, don’t you think? I can’t live in the humdrummery any longer.

This doesn’t seem like the worst potential bonding activity, but Riley seems hesitant. She says they’d have to ask Cory, a task that is far less intimidating to Maya than her. There’s no harm in asking. Tentatively, Riley agrees, though Maya seems dissatisfied with her hesitant answer.

Maya: Sneaking around with your boyfriend you can do, but you can’t ask your dad to redecorate? God, you gotta grow like a minimal assertive streak. You’d think some of mine would’ve rubbed off on you by now.

Riley doesn’t know what to say to that, but Maya doesn’t give her the chance to respond. She leaps up to head out and Riley follows suit, only falling behind when she runs into Asher and Dylan at the entrance. They exchange bright greetings, Riley sharing a hug with Dylan before she jogs to catch up to Maya.

Asher and Dylan find Lucas at the counter.

Dylan: Lucas James Friar! [ slamming his hands on the countertop ] Do you have something for me?

Dylan narrows his eyes expectantly. Lucas matches his glare, deadpan, until he cracks with a huff. He rolls his eyes and reaches to grab a perfectly-made grilled cheese, sliding it across the counter at him. Dylan reacts in delight, Asher smiling at him as the two of them settle onto the stools at the counter. Asher asks how things are going, and Lucas gives them the short version of how his morning started.

Dylan: [ while eating his grilled cheese ] Oh, overnight? Scandalous.

Lucas: It was not. We fell asleep. We were sleeping.

Dylan: Mhm, mhm. For sure. Totally. I believe you…

Dylan winks. Lucas rolls his eyes again and Asher shakes his head, but he can’t help but smile. Lucas claims it’s for the best, as it frees him up to spend the rest of his week working. He was pretty heavily booked with shifts anyway.

Lucas: I’m this close to being able to pay you back for my wrist --

Asher: Something that you do not have to do, for the hundredth time.

Lucas: Then I’ll be able to start saving it for myself. What for, I don’t know, but it’ll be damn nice to have it.

Asher points out he could be saving the money for school, but Lucas quickly side steps that conversation. He shifts to discussing what their week looks like before school starts again, all of them coming back to the same talking point -- Isadora. None of them have seen her for the last month or so, and any time they try to reach out she says she’s not up for visitors.

Understandable, given she’s grieving, but it’s been a couple months and they’re worried about her. Not to mention school is coming back, and that’ll be harder if she’s totally out of practice when it comes to socializing. Lucas can’t be of much help due to his work schedule, but he points out that’s not much of a loss as he’s terrible at stuff like this. Honestly, usually he and Isadora just tend to make each other worse at low points.

Before they can problem-solve, their conversation is interrupted by JOE, the Chubbies manager, breezing past them. He’s a large, slovenly man with Santa-like salt-and-pepper facial hair and in a Chubbies shirt that seems perpetually grease-stained. But he’s a smart businessman and quite the character, respected and loved fondly by the patrons of the diner and a decent boss. In fact, some regulars have taken to calling him “Pappy Joe,” due to his sort of roughrider demeanor.

He greets the boys gruffly, obviously well-acquainted with Dylan and Asher after a summer of them hanging around to chat with Lucas. They ask him if he thinks they’re going to keep Lucas on as an employee past his summer trial run. Joe sizes Lucas up, squinting, before patting his shoulder bracingly.

Joe: Well, he didn’t rob us blind or burn down the shack -- accidentally or otherwise -- so I s’pose we can keep him around.

Asher grins, nudging Lucas’s forearm in cheeky congratulations. Dylan smiles as well, subtly nudging his free grilled cheese out of view of the burly manager.

Once Joe saunters off, they get back on topic. Asher states that he and Dylan will check in on Isadora -- they’ve got Dylan, the one person to whom Isadora can’t say no. Depending on how she seems to be doing, they’ll go from there.

INT. WEST SIDE THEATER - BACKSTAGE - DAY

Zay opens the door from the atrium and emerges in the backstage hall, leading YINDRA AMINO and NIGEL CHEY on a tour of the theater. The two friends are starstruck, captivated by being around an actual production where the magic happens.

Zay is excitedly showing them around, pointing out fun facts and cool exclusive pieces like costumes and the props table. They exchange greetings and brief introductions with his castmates as they pass by, everyone friendly.

Once they end up in the wings and Yindra and Nigel marvel at the real bona fide Broadway set, Zay huddles closer and points towards the stage where a young man, dressed as Tony, is running through “Maria.” Zay tells them all about him and speaks highly of him, admiration in his tone.

Zay: He’s like a master. You’ve seen his rendition of “Something’s Coming.”

Nigel: Yeah, he was pretty good.

Zay: He’s great. And he’s a true professional, always on top of things, makes everyone else feel good and valued and welcome. I feel like I’ve watched his rehearsals so often I could do the part just by memory alone.

Yindra: Sounds like someone has a boy crush.

Zay rolls his eyes, elbowing her as they turn away. But his esteem doesn’t end there.

Zay: He’s exactly what I want to be, when I get there one day. Oh, and you know the craziest thing? He’s had a cold for the last week, but he still gets up and pushes through it every night to perform. And he sounds just as good! That’s showmanship to admire.

Maybe a little unhealthy, but then, I guess that’s show business. Nigel claims he’s glad he wasn’t sick when he saw it last month, or when he brought Jade to see it. Yindra agrees, though she jokingly claims no one could be better than their Zayby boy as she throws an arm around his shoulders and half-hugs him.

Nigel informs him that they’ll both be seeing it again that Saturday, and he thinks Jade is coming too. Riley is getting a whole bunch of them to come, she’s basically campaigning. Zay comments that sounds about right, considering it’s Riley. This leads them into a discussion about who from their class has come to see it already, Yindra and Nigel listing back and forth while Zay offers help here and there based on his knowledge.

When Charlie inevitably comes up, Zay grows quieter, losing some of his comfortable confidence. Yindra and Nigel don’t notice, too caught up in commentary about his whereabouts.

Nigel: I thought he did come. Didn’t he see it during opening week?

Yindra: That’s what Haley said was the plan, but then he didn’t show. Something about how his grandmother got ill so they had to drive up coast to see her.

Nigel: Really? I thought he said his grandmother was dead. Like two years ago.

Yindra: I mean, it’s exactly in line with how he’s been acting this summer. He has been so hard to get a hold of. I haven’t seen him at all.

This seems like the last thing Zay wants to talk about. He waits for a strategic lull in their complaints to change the subject, distracting them with offers to see the dressing rooms. They jump at the chance, leaving the conversation of their missing friend behind.

INT. HAVERFORD PREP - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Your Love (Déjà Vu)” as performed by Glass Animals || Performed by Haverford Seniors

Charlie, meanwhile, is just beginning to explore Haverford. He slips into the auditorium from the back of the house, looking towards the stage where rehearsal is already in progress.

The Haverford seniors -- his new classmates -- are in the midst of a skillful rendition of the Glass Animals single. It pairs well with their signature strengths: layered harmonies, suave moves, synchronization. With the matching uniforms, only varied by whether the boys have elected to strip their blazers during rehearsal and whether they’ve rolled their sleeves, etc., it’s hard to differentiate any of them at first glance. They’re a perfect, polished machine of sonic harmony.

That is, except for their frontman. Carrying the brunt of the vocals front and center is BRANDON RIVAS, an especially debonair senior with slick confidence and obvious talent. We’ve seen him before, at the Jacobs gala and the students of color mixer. He’s got a charming, intriguing smirk and dark, glossy hair styled well enough to rival Asher.

Regardless of your feelings on them, the Haverford boys are mesmerizing to watch. The performance seems to slip by in no time flat, and before Charlie knows it they’re breaking to go freshen up before their next class. Brandon rattles off some general notes for them to work on before their next run-through, the rest of them giving him shoulder pats and farewells as they head off to the dressing rooms.

Suddenly, it’s just Charlie and Brandon. The latter half turns towards him, aware of his presence despite Charlie being well-hidden in shadow. He claims he can come up and join him now, no sense in staying in the dark. The direct address snaps Charlie out of his nerves, and he jogs up the steps to come meet him.

Brandon, smoothly: No need to be shy. This is your stage now too, isn’t it?

Maybe so. Charlie strides across the stage to stand in front of him, Brandon waiting casually with his hands in his pockets. He sizes him up as he approaches, looking him over, but for what it’s worth he doesn’t seem critical. He holds out a hand once he’s close enough.

Brandon: Brandon Rivas. Nice to finally officially meet you.

Charlie: Charlie. And thanks.

Brandon: I know who you are. I saw your audition, though I’m sure you don’t remember me. “I Can Do That” is a difficult number if you actually intend to show off any skill, and you managed it well. At least, after you tied your shoelaces. That, and I’d heard a bit about you through the grapevine.

Charlie clearly wants to know more about that, like who would even be talking about him, but Brandon doesn’t offer anything more. He changes the subject, stating that he’s essentially the eyes and ears of the senior class and the de facto leader, if there was one. They’re all equals at Haverford, make no mistake, but it’s helpful to have a figurehead of sorts. Someone to look to and maintain order.

Brandon: This will be helpful for you, of course, because you can ask me anything you might be wondering while you make your transition. I know just about everything there is to know. First, though, we should get you acquainted. Fancy a look around?

Charlie nods, grateful for the warm welcome. Brandon gestures for him to follow, leading him on the start of a grand tour of Haverford Prep from someone who actually knows the ins and outs day-to-day. Charlie keeps pace, not wanting to get left behind.

Jack, pre-lap: We need to do a full examination of the building.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Jack and Eric are making their way through the darkened school, the former leading the way while the latter takes notes on a clipboard. They’re inspecting for anything that seems out of date, not up to snuff, eager to make a perfect first impression for the incoming administrator.

Jack: I don’t want to give them any easy shots. If they want to criticize on baseless claims, then we’re going to make sure they have to dig deep.

Eric: Don’t think that should be too hard. The school itself is in great shape, and with the exception of the senior A class, the students have always done well. Even the A class is likely to be better after everything last year.

Jack: Yes, but when you’re looking for error --

Eric jogs to catch up to him, coming to head him off. He tucks the clipboard under his arm and takes Jack’s arms, gently stopping his relentless march and meeting his eyes.

Eric: You know this whole thing the board is doing is inane, right? You’re a good administrator. You’ve made mistakes, yes, but we all have. There is no such thing as perfect.

Jack: Very nice. Thank you for the affirmation, Hannah Montana.

Eric, sincerely: You do a good job, Jack. You love this school, and the students, and they appreciate you. They know it wouldn’t be the same without you.

Though it’s biased coming from his counselor, there’s actually quite a bit of weight to the statement coming from Eric. It means something, because for a long time Eric didn’t believe it. It means something, and it clearly means a lot to Jack.

Still, there might be other reasons he speaks so highly of him. Jack clears his throat, torn between holding his gaze and glancing anywhere else.

Jack: Some might say you’re biased. Especially given… the way we are. With each other.

Eric: … yeah? What exactly does that mean to you?

The air is suddenly a little bit thinner between them. It’s more than obvious as they hold eye contact that they both know they share something greater than coworkers. That they’re something more to one another. They know it, might have even discussed it, but evidently haven’t landed on anything definitive.

Jack ducks the question, shifting his gaze behind Eric. He comments that the curtains could probably afford to be replaced, or at least deep-cleaned. He effortlessly slips from Eric’s grasp and shifts back into work mode, leaving him to grapple with the uncertainty yet again.

Eric takes a deep breath, then follows after him with the clipboard. Still willing to march with him, even when he doesn’t know to what degree they’re tied together.

INT. DOCTOR’S OFFICE - DAY

Farkle is sitting up on the examination table, having just finished consulting with his primary care physician. JENNIFER MINKUS is with him, there for the analysis of Farkle’s current state and where they should go from here.

All in all, good news. The physician commends Farkle’s improved BMI and overall health, that he’s picked back up the weight he lost last year and his vitals seem to be reading more stable than they were in the spring. While improvements could still be made -- more rigorous exercise, for one -- he’s well on his way to being back in shape.

When the doctor starts getting into specifics about what changes could be made and Jennifer takes out her phone to take notes, Farkle zones out. Blah, blah, blah, he’s heard all of it before. He pulls out his phone as well, but not for notes. He opens his message thread with Isadora instead, crafting a text to check in on her.

He texts her about being at the doctor and what’s going on with her this week, but doesn’t get an immediate response. Even though their banter seems to be more consistent and varied than the messages with Eric, she’s gone off the radar a bit for him, too.

EXT. HAVERFORD PREP - DAY

Concluding their tour, Brandon shows Charlie what he states is one of his favorite locations on campus. It’s a balcony walkway that bridges the two wings of the school, joined under the angular solar-paneled glass ceilings. They approach the banister facing out towards the city, a gorgeous view of the campus below.

Charlie seems a bit overwhelmed after the tour. Brandon asks him what he thinks and he simply claims it’s a lot different than AAA. That goes without saying, given the vastly different architecture and student body, but there’s a loaded quality to the statement that goes deeper.

Brandon examines him, not giving anything away. It’s unclear if he’s empathizing or just trying to figure him out, but he assures Charlie that he’ll adjust to Haverford in no time. It’s the best school there is, after all, so there’s little chance he couldn’t.

Brandon: Thing about Haverford is that it’s tight. We’re a band of brothers, so we look out for each other. If you pull your weight, then the boys will be there when you need them. Even if you show up three years late.

Charlie: Oh, well, that’s reassuring.

Brandon: [ with a laugh ] I’m only saying, I don’t know why you’re here or why you decided to leave Adams, but the fact is you’re here now. You make the most of it, truly turn yourself over, then I have no doubt you’re going to thrive. You feel me?

All things considered, Charlie is grateful everyone seems to be so friendly. At least in completely cutting the cord from his former support system, he doesn’t have to drift through senior year alone. He offers a smile.

Charlie: Thanks. Seriously, that’s nice to hear.

Brandon returns the smile, though his is understandably more confident. He reaches out and gives Charlie a pat on the shoulder.

Brandon: Welcome to Haverford, Charlie. We’re happy to have you in the brotherhood.

Brandon leaves him be, heading back inside. Charlie hangs back, glancing out towards the city for a moment longer. Out towards the west side, where AAA sits preparing for a school year without him.

Then he backs off, straightening his tie as he follows Brandon inside.

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Eric arrives home after a busy day, tired but still with plenty to do. He dumps his things on a table before making his way to Isadora’s bedroom, knocking on the door before peeking his head in.

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Isadora is lying on her unmade bed, wearing pajamas she never changed out of and staring blankly at her ceiling, where glow-in-the-dark stars have been stuck on. She doesn’t move upon Eric’s arrival. He asks her questions about how she’s doing, but gets no response to any of them. He sighs, used to this type of interaction between them.

Eric: I’m going to make some dinner. I’ll let you know when it’s ready, and you can either eat with me or in here. Whatever you want to do.

He watches her for a moment longer, concerned, but leaves her be when she turns onto her side, her back to him.

Once her door is shut again, Isadora takes a shaky breath. She sits up and grabs her phone, scrolling through the various notifications she has — Farkle and Eric’s texts, Maya sending her a post on Instagram, and a voice note from Dylan. She stares at the screen, inwardly battling between replying or ignoring. Ultimately, she throws the phone across her bed and flops onto her back, looking up at the stars on her ceiling once again.

As gentle piano fades in...

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “My Mistake” as performed by Gabrielle Aplin || Performed by Isadora De La Cruz

Isadora starts the song on her bed, getting up after the first verse to walk around her room. She lingers on various things she passes. There’s a photo collage in a frame on her desk, filled with pictures taken over the past three years with her friends, to whom she sings “I really want a conversation, but I let it slip away...”

On her bedside table is a solar system lamp that spins when she pushes it. One wall is covered in space-themed movie posters, her fingers brushing along E.T. on a bicycle in front of the moon, and an astronaut sat alone on a bench in Love.

Following the chorus, as she sings “I saw my friend today, he tried to comfort me,” Isadora leaves her bedroom and walks over to where Eric is cooking in the kitchen, but he’s unaware of her presence.

I don’t think I’ll ever change...

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - NIGHT

With the swell of the chorus, Isadora leaves the apartment, transitioning to the streets of New York, where she continues to go unnoticed. People pass through her as though she’s a ghost. She imagines various familiar faces passing her by. Lucas playfully rolls his eyes at Dylan, who has an arm thrown around Asher’s shoulders, animatedly talking about something. Riley and Zay stand in line at a pretzel stand, laughing together at a joke Zay is telling. Finally, Maya pulls Farkle towards a shop window with excitement, pointing out a mannequin dressed in a glamorous faux fur coat. Farkle walks away, and Maya chases after him with a grin.

Isadora arrives in an empty park, decorated with fairy lights that twinkle like stars. She belts out the final chorus before the twinkling lights transition to the stars on her ceiling...

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

And we’re back in her bedroom for the final soft “well, at least it was my mistake…”

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - DAY

Cory convenes with Riley and Maya, the two of them finishing up their dissertation on why they should be allowed to redecorate their room. Since they’re going to have to make this arrangement work for a while, he agrees that perhaps they could afford to spruce things up. He gives them a small sum to work with on the family credit card -- not as much as Maya was hoping for, but still something. Victory!

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY

The girls immediately retreat to the bedroom to start planning, Maya pulling out some poster board from behind her dresser to start moodboarding. She sizes up the board, already trying to visualize it as Riley moves to her side of the room.

Maya: I admit I was hoping for a little more bank to work with, but it’s fine. I’m an artist. [ deep sigh ] I can get creative. Just with a little time to mentally rearrange…

Riley: Actually, we might have a little more money.

Maya’s eyes fly open, more intrigued at that than anything else Riley has ever said. She asks what she’s talking about, and Riley explains that she mentioned their plans to her mom, and she thought the idea was great. She may have sent over some money into her account for them to put towards the project. Maya asks how much, rushing over to look over Riley’s shoulder at her laptop screen.

However much money she sees, it’s enough to make her gasp and practically jump up and down. She presses her hands to her chest, theatrically overwhelmed.

Maya: Hell yes! Thank you, mama Lawrence.

Riley: I mean, it’s nice, but don’t consider it charity. She’s always looking for ways to one-up my dad, so it’s more for her benefit than ours.

Maya: God damn, I wish I had divorced parents. What an easy game to play. All I’ve got is a deadbeat I haven’t seen since I was in diapers, and let me tell you, he’s not throwing money around to win my favor.

Riley isn’t exactly inclined to agree, but it’s no use trying to correct her. It’s Maya. Anyway, she is excited to start planning and shopping, but they’re going to have to wait a day. She already has plans that afternoon.

Maya: What could possibly be more important than bling?

Riley, pointedly: Friendship.

Maya doesn’t seem convinced, but to each their own. As Riley goes to get ready, Maya shifts back to the blank poster board. She’s much more excited now that their budget has been upped considerably.

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - DAY

Isadora emerges from her room, still clad in cotton shorts and a sweatshirt but at least up and moving. It’s because she’s expecting company, getting to the living room just as there’s a knock at the door.

When she pulls it open, Dylan and Asher are waiting on the other side. They give her enthusiastic smiles when they see her, not even faltering at her less than composed appearance. Asher claims it’s so good to see her, and she says they should feel honored. The only reason she’s letting them stop by is Dylan’s promised cupcakes.

Dylan holds the tupperware out proudly, and Isadora takes it. He starts to warn her that the message he intended didn’t quite translate over, but she’s already prying open the lid. The mistake is glaringly obvious, the cupcakes arranged to spell out “Feel better Isado ♥” with the heart tacked onto the end.

Isadora stares at the cupcakes, then looks up at them for explanation. Dylan eyes them forlornly.

Dylan: I ran out of cupcakes.

Asher, fondly: He wrote the heart first.

Dylan smiles sheepishly. He’s so darn cute, and genuine at that, even Isadora can’t help but crack a smile. She laughs a bit, closing the tupperware container.

Isadora: They’re perfect. Thanks, Dyl.

His smile brightens. Isadora invites them both in, claiming she can at least show them her new room since they made all the effort to come over. Dylan comments how crazy it is that they’re entering a faculty member’s home.

Asher: We’ve been to Riley’s.

Dylan: Come on, Cory’s not like a real faculty. If he evaporated, would anybody notice?

Asher: You know you don’t have to convince me of Cory’s irrelevancy or failures as an educator.

Isadora: Yeah, if he ever does go missing, you’re my first suspect.

Fair enough. Isadora drops the cupcakes on the counter in the kitchen and then guides them back down the hall to her room.

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - DAY

Whereas her physical appearance is easy to forgive, the state of her room is less so. It’s a total disaster area, the products of depression and general lack of fucks to give, though essences of how she originally designed it manage to peek through.

Asher, however, cannot ignore the mess. He stops stock still in the doorway with wide eyes, taking it all in with a subtle expression of horror as Dylan plows in after Isadora, not at all attune to the disarray. Asher takes his entrance more cautiously, careful to step on the few places on the floor where dirty laundry doesn’t reign.

Dylan asks Isadora how her summer has been and how it feels like they haven’t seen her since June. They lightly tread the subject of how she’s recovering from Valerie’s death, but it’s obvious she doesn’t want to talk about it. When Dylan asks what plans she has for the last week of summer and she basically intends to just waste it away in her room, Dylan gets fired up on her behalf. He claims she can’t waste this time. It’s important! Indispensable! Of great import!

Isadora, to Asher: Word of the day calendar?

Asher: Oh, no, now he’s just started flipping through the thesaurus when I’m reading books. It’s kind of impressive, isn’t it?

Dylan: Dora, you cannot let this time just wither away. We’re in the prime, okay? This is the BOT-R-O-Y-L!

Isadora blinks, lost. She looks to Asher again, checking to make sure that was English, but even he seemed stumped. He shrugs.

Asher: Even I don’t know.

Dylan rolls his eyes. Asher shifts his focus back to the mess, lightly nudging at a sweater on the floor with his Oxfords.

Dylan: BOT-R-O-Y-L. “The beginning of the rest of your life.” It’s happening now, Dor, and you can’t just let it slip away.

Isadora: You’re serious. The last week of summer vacation is supposed to be the beginning of the rest of my life?

Dylan: Yes! It is. Because this is the last summer where we’re all going to be here, in this way, exactly as we are now. And everything that comes after it is gonna come fast -- senior year, college choices, graduation. And when all that’s happening, you won’t be focused on it. You won’t be in the now, because you’ll be stuck here thinking about how you didn’t take advantage of this time when you should’ve. And that will just make you miss out on everything else. Like you’ll always be a few steps behind. The future is now!

Isadora: … okay, you’re a weirdo, but you’re strangely making sense.

Asher: [ tuning back into the conversation while he folds a couple of jackets onto her dresser ] He’s good at that.

Point made. Isadora concedes it, but she also says that socializing is hard enough when she’s not… boiling over with emotions she still hasn’t figured out how to process. She knows she should be over it by now -- which Dylan and Asher both quickly refute, stating grief takes different time for everyone -- but it just feels like a lot. It’s easier to just stay in and keep that away from everyone else.

Dylan hears this, but he reiterates that they miss her. She can just try today, come out and do something with the two of them, and if it really feels like too much then no harm no foul. But Dylan feels pretty confident she’ll like it once she’s back out there. He knows she doesn’t feel quite like herself, but...

Dylan: We’d rather have Dora at half-volume than no Dora at all.

This sentiment touches her, but she still doesn’t seem convinced. When she expresses her reluctance to go out again, Asher offers a suggestion of his own.

Asher: Well, if going out feels like too much of a burden, then we could always stay here and clean.

It sounds like a joke, but coming from Asher, the statement is one-hundred percent earnest. Dylan gives Isadora a pointed look.

Isadora: Okay, okay, fine. You got me, anything but that. Do your worst.

Isadora leads the march out, Dylan grinning. He meets Asher in the doorway, fondly pinching his side and leaning closer to whisper.

Dylan: Good thinking on the cleaning thing. Always count on you to come up with a clever strategy.

He gives him a brisk kiss on the cheek, catching up with Isadora. Asher frowns slightly as he follows them out.

Asher: It wasn’t a strategy…

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Maya is in fact window shopping downtown, but not with Farkle. She’s on the phone with him instead, keeping up conversation as she peers in boutique windows. It’s clear she’s excited about having some money to spend. Every other line in their conversation, she punctuates with a “ooh, that’s cute…” or hum of excitement.

INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - DAY

The actual subject of their conversation, though, is Isadora. They’ve been her most consistent company this summer, but even they haven’t seen or heard much from her in the past couple weeks and are concerned. Farkle explains he heard through the grapevine that Dylan and Asher were going to try and handle it, to which Maya scrunches her face in disgust.

Maya: Tragic. Well, good luck to Izzy.

Their third wheel out of commission, Farkle attempts to plan something with Maya around his many appointments that day. But she’s distracted, totally transfixed by the possibilities of shopping, that the plans don’t go anywhere. Farkle gives up, flopping down onto his bed as he continues to listen to her marvel about how nice it is to have funds.

Speaking of a place with no shortage of funding…

EXT. HAVERFORD PREP - DAY

Riley is visibly amazed by the campus of Haverford as she makes her way towards the school. Charlie is waiting on the steps for her, jogging down to come greet her. She gives him an enthusiastic hug, immediately launching into questions about the school and its grand accommodations.

She suggests they go inside to take a look around -- he can give her a tour -- but Charlie dodges the request. He says they should walk somewhere else, get some fresh air. It’s school for him, so it’ll be nice to get away from campus for a little bit.

Riley can tell he’s being shifty about it, but she doesn’t question him, letting him lead the way. She glances back over her shoulder at the looming modern institution.

Clearly, Charlie isn’t ready to let his two worlds collide quite yet.

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Lucas is working the counter when Isadora enters with Dylan and Asher, not displeased to see her. He greets them as cheerfully as one could expect from him, stating it’s good to see Isadora out and about. He asks what they were up to this afternoon.

Isadora: Went to the movies.

Lucas, unimpressed: The movies. You went to see a movie? [ to Dylan and Asher ] That’s your big breakout plan for Dora?

Dylan: Hey, hey, hey, all in due time, young jackasshopper. The week is just getting started.

Lucas: It’s Tuesday.

Dylan, unfazed: The week is basically just getting started. You’ve got to ease into these sorts of things. [ patting Isadora’s shoulders ] We’ll go grab a seat.

Dylan and Asher go to do just that, giving Lucas and Isadora the chance to catch up one-on-one. Lucas asks her how she’s taking being back out in the world, and she admits that Dylan is right. Something gradual like a movie was just what she needed to start, especially since the movie theater is her happy place.

Lucas: So you’re feeling good about the rest of the week?

Isadora: Oh, no, terrified. But less because of crushing social anxiety and more because of the unpredictable whimsy of Dylan Orlando.

Lucas: So more like normal, then.

Isadora: Maybe so.

Her banter is seemingly getting back in shape too. Lucas smiles lightly, telling her sincerely that he’s glad she’s out and about again. She returns the smile, weak but genuine, and saunters off to go join Dylan and Asher at a table.

Jack and Eric come through the door, shifting Lucas’s demeanor from soft to grumpy teenager in an instant. He asks what the hell they’re both doing there, showing up at his place of work unannounced. Can’t they just leave him be? Isn’t seeing him at school enough? Jack raises his eyebrows, torn between amusement and affront.

Jack: Boy, you don’t own Chubbies.

Lucas: Not yet…

Eric: [ off Jack’s eye roll, with a smile ] We’re just picking up a lunch order. We didn’t come here to spy on you.

Lucas doesn’t seem convinced, but he takes their receipt and goes to retrieve the order anyway. Eric and Jack take a look around the diner as they wait, casually waving to the assorted Adams students who greet (or gape at) them from their spots hanging out.

Jack comments that it’s good to see Isadora out, facing away from them in her booth with Dylan and Asher. He knows that Eric was worried about her. Eric claims he’s always worried about her, but he supposes that is what parenthood is supposed to be like. Just odd, considering he skipped all the other stuff before teenagedom.

Well, Jack thinks he’s doing a pretty good job. So they both had somewhat unconventional life paths… so what? Nothing wrong with that. Eric agrees, pausing before venturing the topic again of other ways they might be unconventional. Their dynamic, whatever it is… certainly not exactly a standard work relationship. But, then, no fairytale romance either. Jack agrees, vaguely, not disagreeing with the assessment that it’s a romance but not exactly saying what they are either.

He turns back to look over his shoulder towards the counter, waiting for Lucas. Eric bounces on the balls of his feet, looking at Jack, trying to find how to make him say what he wants to hear.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “What A Man Gotta Do” as performed by the Jonas Brothers || Performed by Eric Matthews (feat. Jack Hunter)

The energetic bass line floats in as Eric continues to look at Jack, launching into the song as he contemplates their relationship. While the specifics of their dynamic are unclear, there’s no question that Eric knows how he feels about Jack and what he wants from their relationship.

The first chunk of the song takes place within Chubbies, other patrons getting into the number. Jack is a participant but more in the reluctant muse variety, playing along with a bashful smirk but letting Eric do most of the performing. The dancing takes on a kind of sockhop ‘50s energy, bouncy and full of spunk.

INT. AAA - DAY

Throughout the second verse and chorus, we’re back at AAA, Eric continuing the serenade while he and Jack walk through various parts of the school doing their inspection. In the halls, in the auditorium, up on the catwalk, doesn’t matter -- Jack has his undivided attention, but the work at hand not so much.

INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY

They conclude their walkabout in the cafeteria, Eric hopping onto the tables and really digging into his ballad. Jack chides at him and pulls him down off the tables -- health and safety hazard, come on! -- but that’s an excuse for Eric to drag him into the dance. The two of them do a little jig of their own across the cafeteria…

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Intercut with the number still going on at Chubbies. The dancing is much more impressive from the younger, more skilled cast members in the diner, doing lifts and flips and such, but Jack and Eric have no trouble maintaining the center of attention.

As the song comes to an end, they resume their former place at the counter before the number began. They settle back into nonchalance, as if the song never happened, the diner patrons back milling about and in their respective booths. Being the first performance in the space, it proves that Chubbies acts as sort of a liminal performance space -- not everything that occurs in the space is necessarily reality, when it comes to singing and dancing.

And that’s for the best, at least for Lucas. He returns moments later, spared the imaginary musical theatrics, and hands over their order. Jack hands over a few bills, tipping him nicely.

Lucas, pridefully: I don’t want this.

Jack: Yes, you do.

Eric: Consider it a down payment for dinner tomorrow.

Well, with that logic… fine. Lucas makes a face and pockets the money, dropping one of the bills in the jar for the cooks. Suffice to say, Lucas’s relationship with money -- and who’s giving it to him -- is complicated at best.

EXT. CENTRAL PARK - DAY

Riley and Charlie have found a place to settle, a picnic table in the beautiful and scenic Central Park. He’s catching her up on how Haverford is going, selling it a little too keenly to be entirely genuine. He quickly shifts the focus off him, asking how everyone is doing in their last week of summer before classes start at AAA.

Riley gives him the short version of how everyone is doing, from Farkle’s medical stuff to Isadora’s grieving to her and Lucas’s slight trouble yesterday morning.

Charlie: Oh, so that’s why you had time to come hang out with me…

She glares at him, kicking him playfully. He grins, and she tells him that it’s already weird without him being on the same schedule as them. It’s going to be odd, not having him there. She reaches out, touching his hand.

Riley: We miss you.

Charlie: … I miss you guys, too.

Still, he claims it’s going to be okay. How things are is for the best. Sure, Riley says… and anyway, just because he’s at a new school doesn’t mean he has to disappear from their lives. He can still see them, he’s still part of their family. In fact, he should come see West Side Story this Saturday.

This, Charlie is less able to gloss over with a smile. He falters, murmuring that he doesn’t know if that’s the best idea. Riley frowns, not allowing him to brush her off.

Riley: Charlie. [ waiting for him to meet her eyes ] Have you gone to see it at all? It’s a really good production.

Charlie: Yeah, I know --

Riley: I know that you and Zay aren’t… I know things are off because of how you… how things ended last year. I know you’re not how you were, but you’re still… I mean, you’re still friends, aren’t you? I think he would want you to be there. To just ghost --

Charlie: Okay, okay! Riley, you can ease off. I’ll… I’ll think about it.

Not a guarantee, but better than nothing. Riley lets it go, for now.

INT. THERAPIST’S OFFICE - DAY

Farkle is meeting with his therapist, DR. MICHELLE HAN. They discuss the phenomenal progress he’s made in just the last few months, and how while there’s still plenty of work to go, it’s good that his suicidal ideation doesn’t seem to have made a comeback.

Farkle: Yeah, I think a good diet of making jokes about it whenever possible keeps it in check. Self-prescribed.

Dr. Han is used to his quips, so she merely smiles as she writes off the comment. They swap to discussing the progress of his treatment plans, and that the next stage is upping the dosage of the current antidepressant he’s on. Ideally, this should more regulate his mood and keep him from having those dips that he’s suffered from throughout the summer.

Farkle bluntly comments there’s nothing else to do but try, and though it’s said flatly, Dr. Han agrees. She reminds him that mental health is an imperfect, trial-by-error process, and they’ll take each development as it comes. Farkle nods, committed to it in spite of his pithy commentary and jokes.

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY

Jack and Eric emerge from the front office, disappointed but not surprised to see that it’s dark outside. Their ability to stay well past a normal hour is truly astounding… but in this case, it makes sense. They both want Adams to be in the best shape it can possibly be, so the work is worth it.

After their thorough examination and enumeration of everything they need to do today, though, they’re on the right track. For their own mental well-being, Eric suggests they should do their best the next few days to get out of there before nightfall. If that means scheduling other things -- like dinners with the kiddos, for instance -- then so be it. Anything to get them out of there.

Jack agrees as they head towards the doors, pointing out they should make a pact then and there not to come in on the weekend. They will do their work during this week, as your average employee would, and then they will put up the healthy wall of distance. No coming in on Saturday or Sunday to do last-minute tidying or search for more problems to solve. They are going to be strong, independent men away from their disaster school.

Eric can fancy that. The two of them shake on it, a bit cheeky, before they push out the doors and into the humid August evening.

INT. HAVERFORD PREP - STUDENT LOUNGE - DAY

The next morning, Charlie gets more formally introduced to some of his fellow Haverford classmates when he checks out the senior student lounge. This includes BILLY ROSS (18), EVAN SCOTT (17), and DWIGHT “DWEEZIL” HOWARD (16), whom everyone affectionately refers to as Dweezil.

They’re all cute, charming, and well-groomed. Billy carries some of the signature aloof coolness of Zay or Nigel, while Dweezil could be a distant cousin of Dylan, only blonde and far more reserved. Evan is the most similar to Charlie himself, soft-spoken but pleasant and clever.

For what it’s worth, they’re nice, too. They show genuine interest in getting to know Charlie, asking him about what he likes about Haverford so far and what he misses about Adams. Billy seems particularly interested in Adams, wanting to know what their main rival is like within the stone walls. Charlie ducks talking about AAA, instead turning the conversation back to them.

Evan says that a bunch of them are going to hang out at Dweezil’s place after school today, and Charlie should definitely come. He thanks them for the offer, and is totally interested, but actually today won’t work. He already has plans.

Billy: Ooh, plans. You got someone we might wanna know about, Charlie?

Dweezil: I saw you talking to that brunette before lunch yesterday. She’s cute.

Ooh, a girl. Charlie laughs awkwardly, stating it’s not like that. The friend, or the person he has to see today. But it’s important, something he can’t miss.

Oh, well. Another time then. Charlie lets the conversation shift off of him, happy to be included but comfortably in the background again.

INT. SHOPPING MALL - DAY

Maya and Riley are out shopping, walking the spacious atrium of a mall out in the suburbs outside the city. Maya comments they would’ve had more fun walking 5th Avenue.

Riley: Yeah, okay, we’re not broke, but we’re not working with that much money.

Besides, as she claims, there’s more variety and flexibility at a mall like this. More options, and easily accessible. They’ll be able to find everything they need.

That, Maya can second. She pauses outside a cute boutique with chic clothes in the window, claiming that if they spend wisely, they can get more than just new room decor. Wouldn’t it be nice to have some new threads before the school year starts?

Riley hesitantly agrees, but she knows they have to be cautious with their funds. She tries to find a way to trick Maya out of her interest, offering up a challenge. Sure, they can shop for clothes too -- but then both of them get to pick an outfit for the other person. And the other has to wear it on the first day of school, no arguments.

Riley’s mistake was forgetting that Maya loves a juicy challenge. She eagerly accepts, stating she is going to find the perfect thing for Riley to wear on the first day as she flurries into the store. Riley grimaces, chasing after her.

Maya: You’re so on, Matthews. Let’s shop.

Riley, nervously: Wait, okay, maybe let’s set some ground rules --

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Isadora is trailing behind Dylan and Asher as they make their way through AAA’s neighborhood, asking them where the hell they’re headed. Dylan deftly dodges her question with vague non-answers, to the amusement of Asher and chagrin of Isadora.

Dylan: Are any of us really headed anywhere? Are we not, at the end of the day, all headed to the same thing?

Isadora: Thanks, Dyl Pickle. That’s what the girl with the dead mom wants to hear.

Dylan: Oh, no no, you’re mistaken. I’ll never die.

Bewildering, but classically, Dylan offers no elaboration on that bold comment. He grins wider as he spots what he’s looking for, arriving in an outdoor pavilion area and greeting some additional members to their party.

It’s the techie crew, back in action. JADE BEAMON, NATE MARTINEZ, JEFF MONROE, and DAVE WILLIAMS are waiting around for them, happily greeting Isadora when they see her approaching with Dylan and Asher. They claim it’s great to see her, and Isadora accepts a gentle hug from Jade.

Isadora: You’re not all just waiting around here for me, are you?

Nate: Uh, yeah. That’s what Dylan told us to do.

Jeff: We’re just happy to see you. And it’s nice to get the whole gang back together before we’re back in that performance prison for one more year.

Dave: Well, not Lucas.

Jade: No, of course not. Because --

All, mockingly: “He has to work.”

Though she’s still uncertain, and doesn’t know if their dynamic is going to quite be the same, Isadora is already smiling again. The energy of the techie crew, her original crew, is infectious, and it’s good to be around them again. She turns the question to Dylan and Asher, asking if they thought this would be some magical serotonin cure-all.

Dylan: Maybe. Is it working?

Asher: We wanted to show you that even when you disappear for a while, your crew is going to be here when you’re ready to reemerge. You’re not going back into the jungle alone.

Jeff: Bet.

Isadora: Even after last year? Everything wasn’t exactly picture perfect before Hurricane Val wiped everything else off my mental map.

Jade: I mean, no, things aren’t going to be exactly the same, but that doesn’t mean we’re gone for good.

Dave: Once a techie, always a techie.

And that’s exactly the message Dylan wanted to be clear. And in case it wasn’t, well, there’s an easy way to remedy that.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Jet Song” as performed by West Side Story Original Cast Recording || Performed by AAA Senior Techies

[ Lyrics specific to characters. Follow along here! ]

Dylan takes the Riff lead, kicking off the song with enthusiasm. Every “Jet” is smoothly replaced with “Tech.” When he refers to having “brothers around,” he loops an arm around Jeff and Nate and pulls them close in a hug. Asher takes over from there, the two of them passing the first verse back and forth.

Then the crew of them take off, marching through the pavilion as a group. While the orchestra vamps Dylan leads the group with Isadora, explaining his plan that they’re all going to go to Zay’s final performance Saturday night. Jade snorts at the idea that Lucas would go anywhere, let alone a theater; Nate points out that Zay is a performer, and they’ve never especially stepped up to support performers.

Dylan: Nate, the era of divisions is past. There’s no techies, no performers. Just senior A class, baby!

Dave: Great, daddio.

Asher: So listen -- [ as the group huddles ] Everybody dress up sweet and sharp. Meet me, Isa, and Dyl at the theater before 7. And walk tall!

Jeff: We always walk tall!

Jade: We’re techs!

Nate: The greatest!

From there, the techie tots take over, taking to the streets and jumping around together. Jeff and Nate are carrying most of the vocals, but as an ensemble, they all sound pretty decent. Thankfully, the Jets weren’t the most perfectly harmonious performers either. Yeah!

EXT. COFFEE SHOP - DAY

Charlie is seated alone at a table on the patio, at an unfamiliar coffee shop, tapping his fingers nervously against the tabletop. The rhythm is intrinsic, like a waltz, counts of three over and over to keep him grounded while he waits for his expected company. The lemonade he ordered sits untouched in front of him.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait much longer. His eyes widen when he spots her, his internal metronome freezing on the downbeat.

BRIDGETTE GARDNER (21). She’s thin and waifish, pretty like her siblings with thick dark hair and attractive bone structure. But that’s where the resemblance stops, as her demeanor is nowhere near as palatable and pleasant as her brother. She’s dressed in dark hues, light crocheted cardigan hanging down around her elbows and exposing her shoulders under her black tank top. Her eyeliner is bold around her bright blue eyes, icy and sharp and heavy with something. Like knowledge, like she already knows everything there is to know, has seen all the truth that there is to see.

To Charlie, though, she’s just his big sister. The big sister he hasn’t seen in years, scrubbed out of his family history like an ink stain.

He rises to his feet as she hesitates, slowing her approach. Finally, they’re in front of one another, not sure what to say. Not smiling—Charlie in shock, Bridgette out of defensive precaution.

Then, Charlie moves, pulling her into an embrace without a word. He lets out a sigh, holding her tighter. Saying all the soft, vulnerable things without saying anything at all.

Bridgette tenses, then slowly lifts her arms to return the hug.

INT. ANIMAL SHELTER - DAY

Riley and Lucas are working side-by-side at the shelter, both clad in their dark green volunteer shirts. They’re cleaning out cat cages and feeding them as they go, moving with precision that indicates they’ve done this routine before. Volunteering there together isn’t a new thing for them.

As charitable as that is, Lucas can’t help but point out it doesn’t exactly abide by Cory’s demands. In fact, they’ve seen an awful lot of each other for two people who are forbidden from interacting for the week.

Riley: I don’t see why the good animals of Manhattan should have to suffer for my misdeeds. It would be irresponsible, nay, an injustice, if I were to shirk my volunteer duties simply because we happen to work shifts at the same time.

Lucas: Someone is getting real good at finding loopholes. [ granting her a smirk ] I’m so proud.

Riley beams, shrugging her shoulders flirtatiously. She goes on to tell him about how redecorating is going, explaining the challenge she and Maya made about getting to dress the other for the first day. Lucas cringes, though whether it’s because of Maya or because he’s cleaning a litterbox isn’t totally clear.

Lucas: I like you, Riley, but I think I’ll have to cut my eyes out if you show up to school looking like a mini-Maya. Isadora last year was terrorizing enough.

Riley: [ with an eye roll ] We’re not dressing like each other, we’re just picking for each other. Forces us to try something new, embrace a little change. Might as well start the year that way, since senior year is guaranteed to have a lot of it.

Yeah, to that point… Riley starts to ask if Lucas has thought at all about what his college application plans are yet. She knows she wants to apply to Barnard, a local all-women highly-ranked liberal arts college. And she’s thinking about performing programs, but then maybe not. Lucas seems hesitant to answer, but he’s saved by a VET TECH employee poking her head out from the back room.

Vet Tech: Lucas, you got a minute to give us a hand? Lil’ Nat needs shots again, and you’re the only one who can get her to sit still long enough without traumatizing the poor thing.

Lucas: Yeah, sure. I’m just about finished here.

Vet Tech: Awesome. We’re just in the back when you’re ready. [ to Riley ] I tell you, your friend’s got the magic touch.

Riley: Oh, believe me, I’m very aware.

Lucas cuts Riley a look, which she matches with an innocent smile. Once the tech is gone, Riley watches Lucas scoop up the cat whose cage he was cleaning and lock it back up properly.

Riley: You know, seems like you’ve got a thing for this. Working with animals. Maybe like… a talent?

Lucas brushes her off, especially the teasing nature of discussing “talent” when they know he has none, but Riley isn’t actually kidding. She watches him thoughtfully as he jogs to the back room, only turning her attention back to the task at hand when the cat in the cage she’s tending to headbutts her affectionately.

EXT. COFFEE SHOP - DAY

Bridgette is now seated opposite Charlie, some of the ice broken between them. She’s finishing up explaining why their reunion had to wait so long when he reached out in June and it’s now almost September — she was abroad in Europe.

Bridgette: Take it from me, everyone should travel somewhere new at least once. Get a new perspective, see something they’ve never seen before. Illuminating, really.

Charlie pauses trying to process her actually being there, what she’s like now versus how he remembers her, to ask the obvious question — how did she afford to do that? There’s no way she had the money on her own after whatever happened with mom and dad.

Bridgette: Family outcast rule number 1. Make rich friends.

And, as she goes on to explain, their great aunt Mary helped fund her voyage. This is shocking to Charlie, as she’s as devout as Eleanor if not more, but Bridgette explains that’s exactly why she did it.

Bridgette: I think she saw it like the ultimate good deed, like missionary work at home. Like if she helped me go abroad, explore something new, the journey would take me straight to Jesus and I’d be born again. Then I’d come crying back to her, so grateful, so happy I’d found the Lord again and that she helped me achieve it. And I’d come back home, we’d be a perfect happy Gardner unit again, and she would get all the sainthood credit of bringing our devious defective Bridgette back from Satan’s fiery hold. [ a beat ] Obviously, that didn’t happen, but I ate a lot of hellishly good food.

It takes some adjusting, hearing someone from his family speak so uncharacteristically heathen-like. Zay, sure, but a Gardner? Charlie uses the opportunity to broach the topic of their family and her banishment, trying to get to the bottom of what happened.

Bridgette: It’s okay, Chuckles. You can ask me direct. Neither of us are going to burn up in hellfire. I cast a protective charm over us when I sat down.

[ Charlie blinks, uncertain. Bridgette gives him a look. ]

Bridgette: That was a joke. Come on, I’m just the exile, not back from the dead. You can laugh a little bit, buddy.

Charlie: Sorry. Sorry, it’s just, um… a lot. And you’re… it’s just been…

Bridgette: I know. Been a while since I’ve seen you, too, you know. Last I remember, you were two inches shorter with an even worse haircut. Might’ve still had braces too, though maybe it’s just all running together.

Comment about his hair aside, Charlie asks again what the heck even happened. Bridgette is surprised Eleanor never told them, as she thought she would’ve used it as a lesson. Made a big example, or whatever. Charlie claims the mystery and finality of her disappearance was deterrent enough, from any and all things. Maybe vagueness was more effective after all. Bridgette shakes her head, crossing her arms and taking a moment before meeting his eyes.

Bridgette: You really wanna know what I did? Brace yourself, it’s downright damning. [ bluntly ] I had sex.

Charlie stares at her, waiting for more. There isn’t. Bridgtte senses his uncertainty.

Bridgette: That’s right. I’m a dirty little sinner, because I had sex before marriage. Like damn Eve in the garden of Eden, just too curious with my devilish womanhood. But that wasn’t even my mistake, you know. I could’ve done it, and done it as much as I wanted, and gotten away with it. Mom and dad are intimidating, but they’re not all-knowing. They would’ve never known any better. No, my fatal error was telling mom the truth. I thought, okay, I did this, but mom loves me. She’ll help me out of it, figure out how to turn those feelings off, or at least set me up so that I could explore safely. I think that’s what I wanted, really, but I should’ve known that would never be an option. I didn’t get that far, anyway.

As she recounts it, their discussion after her confession didn’t last long. Eleanor was disappointed, disgusted even, and the only way she would “help” her would be to take her out of college and ship her off to Bible college. There, she could be under watchful eyes, and work through prayer and therapies toward rehabilitation with God. Bridgette said fuck that, and Eleanor claimed if she wasn’t going to fix it, she wouldn’t do it under their roof. So, she left.

Charlie shakes his head, struggling to grapple with it all. He supposes he knew, to some degree, always figured what must’ve happened. But it’s hard to reconcile, to work through, when he still knows his mother as loving and supportive and wanting the best for him. Conditionally, maybe, but that’s not nothing.

But he thanks Bridgette for sharing the truth with him. And for showing up at all when he reached out. She didn’t have to do that — he did nothing to help her either, so she could’ve easily just ignored him and kept the embargo going. She had every right.

Bridgette: Charlie, it’s not your job to show up for me. Least of all when you didn’t even know. You’re my little brother, not a saint.

[ Charlie lets that sink in. Bridgette shrugs, slouching more comfortably now that her secrets are out. ]

Bridgette: Besides, I figured if you were reaching out to me, there had to be a reason. You wouldn’t be sneaking around trying to connect with me if there weren’t some motivation pushing you to it.

Charlie: Couldn’t it just be brotherly love?

Bridgette: It could. But I’m not naive enough to believe it’s that simple.

They hold eye contact, Bridgette arching an eyebrow. Her icy eyes see right through him. So?

Charlie takes a deep breath, looking down at the table. He struggles through articulating that she’s not the only one with secrets, that he needed to see that even after her exodus she was still surviving. To see that there’s a life beyond their perfect house, just in case, because he’s more and more aware of the risk.

Charlie: I’m never going to be the ideal son mom and dad want me to be. I can’t be. I’m not going to be the honorable man with the beautiful wife and perfect kids and radiant sense of blessed peace. I’m not going to have any of that. And I tried, I mean, I thought for so long maybe I could. I just hadn’t unlocked it, hadn’t figured out what was missing, but I know that’s not how it works now. I know who I am, and it’s not that. I’m never going to have a beautiful wife.

[ Bridgette waits patiently. Charlie chokes on the thought and clears his throat, centering himself before he tries again. He meets her eyes. ]

Charlie: I’m gay. I don’t like… I couldn’t… [ sighing ] I’m gay.

The sentiment hangs in the air between them, Charlie’s first intentional coming out. Bridgette doesn’t seem at all surprised, or affected, maintaining her calm demeanor.

Bridgette: Okay. Good for you, Charlie. Thanks for telling me.

Not nearly as dramatic as he imagined. But maybe it’s better that way. Charlie nods, catching his breath. Bridgette goes on to point out that sinning aside, he’s already smarter than she was as he clearly has not told their parents. As long as he doesn’t do that, then he’ll be fine, at least as long as he can handle the guilt.

Bridgette: And who knows? Maybe they'll surprise you. Maybe mom will be like one of those Catholics who takes pity on the gays, those poor sinners who can’t help themselves. So long as you don’t do something truly sinful and unforgivable, you know, like sex before marriage —

Charlie grimaces and then whines, dropping his head on his arms on the tabletop. Bridgette pauses, clocking his dramatic reaction, then bursts into laughter. Oh, Chuckles, Chuckles, Chuckles…

INT. MINKUS HOME - NIGHT

Farkle and Jennifer return from another day of doctoring, the former obviously exhausted. EZRA MINKUS rushes out to greet him with a hug, telling him he missed him all day.

STUART MINKUS emerges from his back office as well, greeting them cheerfully and asking how everything went. Jennifer lauds Farkle’s improvement according to the doctors, and then the both of them begin asking Farkle a bunch of questions while Ezra barrels him with details about his day. How is he feeling? What does he feel like for dinner — they could order his favorite? Is he able to play now that he’s not sick? Frankly, Farkle has had enough prodding for a lifetime, mental or otherwise.

Farkle, waspish: What I’m feeling is that I would like five minutes of a little peace and quiet! Alone!

He marches out of the room, retreating to his room and slamming the door. Ezra asks if he made Farkle mad, but Stuart assures him it wasn’t his fault. They’re all understanding. It’s just… tough right now.

INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Farkle reclines against his door, releasing a sigh. Solitude is nice, and needed, but it doesn’t make him feel all that better. He doesn’t like feeling so moody, snapping at his family, being on knife’s edge. He misses when things were normal, or at least, he thought they were. Recovery is crucial, but he didn’t expect it to be so damn exhausting.

He collapses onto his bed with a flop, the sonic pop beat dropping just as he does…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “In My Bed” as performed by Sabrina Carpenter || Performed by Farkle Minkus

Farkle starts the performance sideways on his bed, the camera moving in odd angles with him as he dramatically rolls around in theatrics. He also moves around his room and plays with the scenery, leaning into the melodramatic anguish yet skillfully contrasted with the somewhat flat delivery of the vocals.

INT. DOCTOR’S OFFICES - DAY

The other part of the number is split in and out of doctor’s offices, Farkle basically floating through the scenery as different physicians and experts poke and prod and question him. He lets it all happen without comment, like a specimen under a microscope, staring blankly at the camera to convey his exhaustion while he sings.

INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Then, he concludes the song back in his room, flopping backwards onto his bed on the last “I’m still in my bed.”

INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT

As promised, Jack and Eric are having dinner with Lucas and Isadora, the teens opposite them in a booth. Though the gathering is far from conventional — principal, counselor, adoptee, and delinquent — the dynamic amongst them is comfortable and casual. It’s clear they’ve done this multiple times before.

Isadora asks Jack and Eric how the inspection is going, if they think they’ll have to do a lot of work before the school year starts. Lucas asks for elaboration, like if they’ve learned anything about the hack coming into admin or what his game is. Jack cautions against writing the new colleague off as a hack from the get-go, to which Lucas rolls his eyes. Eric assures them they’ve got everything under control, and he’s feeling confident things will go off swimmingly.

Lucas, flatly: Someone should be.

He swipes a fry off Isadora’s plate, causing her to elbow him in the side. He’s got his own food, doesn’t he? Jackass. Lucas grins, chewing his stolen French fry pointedly. Eric watches them in amusement, Jack commenting that’s as good a time as any to grab the check. He gets up to go pay, leaving Eric to temper Lucas and Isadora’s sibling-like bickering.

As Jack pays the bill, the WAITRESS working the register casts a glance towards their unusual table. Though, to her, it clearly doesn’t seem so odd. She smiles.

Waitress: Cute family.

Jack opens his mouth to correct her, but something stops him. Instead he glances at them, then back to her, retrieving his credit card.

Jack: Thank you.

She tells him he’s good to go. As Jack puts his card back into his wallet, he watches his “family” far afar, fondness written all over his face.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY

The room is in the midst of a makeover, Riley and Maya moving things around while they add their new decor to the space. It’s already got a little more pizazz, but still has a ways to go.

Maya is doing more directing than helping, distracted by their clothes haul and eager to get to trying stuff on. Riley drags her away from the bags, reminding her that once they get their room in shape, then they can see what torture they have in store for each other.

Maya: Ye of little faith…

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Lucas is bussing a vacated table when Farkle hurricanes through the doors in a huff. It’s clear he’s frazzled, fidgety as he spots Lucas.

Farkle: You’re here.

Lucas, bluntly: Yeah. I work here.

Farkle: Oh, right. Weird.

Lucas: Sure, I’m the weird one…

Lucas starts heading back behind the counter with the bin of dishes, Farkle trailing along behind him. He asks if Riley is here, to which Lucas tells him he can look around and answer that for himself.

That’s obviously not what Farkle wants to hear. He runs a hand through his hair, smacking a hand down on the countertop.

Farkle: I swear, I’m losing my mind. Not that I had much of one to begin with, but if I have to spend one more day in a doctor’s office or in that stupid penthouse suite I really think I might kill someone.

Lucas just looks at him, slightly judgmental, clearly wondering why the hell he has to be the one stuck listening to this tirade. But Farkle is not deterred, continuing on about how he’s sick of being monitored and babied and so heavily in control it’s like he’s spiraling out of it in spite. It’s suffocating, and he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to fix it when the stuff that fixes it is what is making him insane. He feels crazy. He feels absolutely deranged. After a certain amount of melodrama, Lucas snaps.

Lucas: Oh my God, enough!

He walks away from the counter, his disappearance just enough to stun Farkle into silence. He reappears a few moments later though, peeling off his apron and hanging it behind the counter. He heads towards the door, gesturing brusquely for Farkle to follow.

Lucas: Come on, move it. Let’s go.

Farkle: What? Where are we going?

Lucas stops, meeting his eyes with a sharp glare. It’s not the least bit encouraging.

Lucas, shortly: We’re fixing it.

Then he pushes out the door, not waiting up. Scary prospects, and Lucas has never been a friend to Farkle. But his curiosity is piqued, it’s a distraction from the… everything else, and well, he’s always had a little bit of a fear kink.

Farkle jogs out after him.

EXT. SKATE PARK - DAY

Dylan and Isadora are making their way down the street, Isadora once again unsure where they’re going. She also asks where Asher is, as it’s just the two of them that afternoon. Dylan explains that he got Riley to pull a favor for him with Zay, but doesn’t elaborate. He’ll catch up with them later. Isadora gets distracted before she can question further, as they arrive at their destination.

The local skate park. Bustling with teens on a Friday afternoon, full of life and energy. It’s clearly Dylan’s turf, a few other skaters shouting greetings at him that he returns with a wave.

Isadora, on the other hand, is not enthused. She’s like oh no way and starts to turn around but Dylan pulls her back, encouraging her to just give it a try. She points out that she has never skated in her life, but he claims that doesn’t matter. As he goes on to say, when he first started out he didn’t know what he was doing either. But it’s freeing, it clears his mind, and she has to admit the two of them have more in common mentally than one would think at first glance.

Dylan: When I started skating, I fell all the time. Got banged up and bruised and scraped, even in places I didn’t know could scrape.

Isadora: Oh, nice. Very encouraging, thank you.

Dylan: But I got back up. Every time. Right now, you’ve been knocked down and banged up and scraped. [ holding out his board ] It’s time to get back up.

He holds her gaze, putting the ball in her court. Isadora hesitates, looking at the board… then takes it with a sigh.

Isadora: Might as well try.

Dylan grins and bounces on his feet, eagerly finding a place for them to practice. He helps her get on the board and then lets her use him as a way to steady herself, until slowly they start moving in one direction. Just when it seems like she’s got the gist, and Dylan lets her go, she speeds up a bit… and wipes out, unable to stop and falling off the board as it keeps going and rams into the chain-link fence.

Dylan: Oh, yikes --

Dylan jogs over, asking if she’s okay. But she’s merely laughing, falling onto her back and cackling uncontrollably. Once she manages to calm to a giggle, she accepts his help to climb back to her feet. She seems energized for the first time all week, expression bright.

Isadora: Let’s try again.

Dylan beams, nodding. The two of them jog to grab the skateboard.

INT. WEST SIDE THEATER - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Zay pushes open the door from the hall, entering with Asher following tentatively behind him. He has the same awe as Yindra and Nigel as he gets to walk around a real production, though his is also sprinkled with his usual amount of nerves.

Asher: Again, if this is a bother, any burden at all, you really don’t have to show me --

Zay: Well, you’re already here so. [ patting his shoulder ] Let’s enjoy it, yeah?

Clearly, Zay has experience dealing with people riddled with anxiety. Still, it works, Asher nodding and following him onto the stage. Zay smiles, telling him he’ll really want to see this, before showing him the full set for the show. Mainly, he thinks the movable set piece that has the fire escape on it is the coolest. Asher marvels at it as Zay climbs around, pulling himself up to sit on the base of the metal.

Asher: Seems sturdy. Good structural design. It would be nice if we could figure out that balance at Triple A -- we usually have to sacrifice style for functionality.

Zay: I wouldn’t call your sets unstylish, Garcia. But anyway, still have one more year to try. And it would probably help if we could have a set that didn’t get vandalized three-fourths into our production.

Touché. Asher continues to walk around the set pieces, getting a good look. Zay states that he likes hanging out on the fire escape since he doesn’t get to spend much time on it during the show -- it’s reserved for Tony and Maria. But off the clock, well, he can do whatever he wants. Just as he’s declaring this independent take, his director steps onto the stage with the stage manager, discussing the show.

Zay hops down from the set quickly, the director cheerfully greeting him but asking what he’s doing there so early. He doesn’t have call time for another couple hours. He coolly explains that he’s showing a friend around, finding Asher hiding behind the set piece and lightly yanking him out to come introduce himself. Asher’s instinct to be professional and polite takes over, making a good impression as he shakes her hand.

Zay: If you’re looking for a production designer in a couple years, look no further. Asher has been creating killer sets and designs for our productions at Adams for four years.

Asher: Oh, well, I don’t know if --

Zay: It’s true. I showed you those photos from our production of Les Mis? This guy, right here.

The director seems suitably impressed, commending Asher for his eye. Asher awkwardly brushes it off, overwhelmed by the praise, claiming it was just as much the effort of his fellow technicians to bring it to life that pulled it off. The director is pleased by that humble reaction, stating it was a pleasant surprise to meet him and telling Zay she’ll see him later before sauntering off with the manager.

Zay: Just got you your first post-grad job, I bet. You’re welcome.

Asher shakes his head. He asks how Zay like… does that all the time, just confidently sells himself with no reservations. Doesn’t he feel weird, bragging like that?

Zay: Well, it’s not bragging when it’s true. I’d argue it’s equally bad to sell yourself so short no one ever even knows you’re there.

Asher: I guess that’s true.

Zay: And why shouldn’t we sell ourselves? Isn’t this the time to do so? Especially when we have the talent, when we deserve it? We’ve got one more year in school, and then after that it’s a whole new world. I don’t know about you, but I’m going in strong.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “ROYL” as performed by Chloe x Halle || Performed by Zay Babineaux, Asher Garcia, Maya Hart, Riley Matthews, Isadora De La Cruz, and Dylan Orlando

Zay leads us into the boppy fun pop track, highlighting the theme for the episode as well as the season as a whole. It’s time to live their lives, spread their wings and fly, and if that includes being a little glamorous and daring, then so be it!

He manages to pull Asher into it within the first verse, the two of them spending the rest of the number strutting through the backstage areas and chewing up the scenery. Though they’re not the only two working the number…

EXT. SKATE PARK - DAY

Dylan and Isadora have their time to jam, boasting the coolest setting as their backdrop. They harmonize and goof off while skaters do impressive tricks around them. Talk about living on the edge and spreading your wings!

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY

And Riley and Maya share the sequence as well, grooving and vocalizing while decorating the room. It makes great strides over the course of the song, both of them collapsing onto their beds with a flourish when they’re done.

Just as an explosive goes off --

EXT. OUTDOOR HIDEOUT - DAY

The boom is a firework, Lucas back to his old tricks of setting off explosives. Only this time, it’s a charitable act, as he’s showing Farkle how to do it in an effort to relieve some of his tightly wound stress. It seems to be working, Farkle laughing hysterically as they set another off and let it go zooming off into the sky. He says this is the best afternoon he’s had in weeks.

Lucas: That’s pathetic. But you’re welcome. Just… don’t tell Riley.

Legal? Questionable. But fun? Yes. And seemingly exactly what Farkle needed. He’s got new life in him now, looking towards Lucas as he grabs another bottle rocket and starts to expertly set it up. When he rises to his feet, Farkle speaks.

Farkle: I misjudged you.

The conversation takes on a slightly serious tone, Farkle explaining that he spent so much time deriding Lucas and judging him and purposefully trying to drive him crazy when he honestly didn’t even really know him. And some of the stuff he did to him, the way he behaved… it wasn’t right. So he hopes, like he said last year, that they can move past it.

Lucas is obviously a bit uncomfortable with the vulnerability, but not opposed to the idea of a truce. He avoids eye contact, shrugging.

Lucas: Well, it’s not like I was an angel towards you either… [ glancing at him ] Guess we can call it even.

Sounds good to Farkle. He nods, agreeing. Then Lucas gives him the lighter to do the honors, Farkle dropping down excitedly and flicking on the flame. As he lights the next fuse…

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY

Maya is looking not quite like a firecracker, good-looking as always but out of her element in the outfit Riley chose for her. She’s sporting a sleek cotton turtleneck and tight-fitting gold plaid pants that cinch at her waist. She looks good, it’s just not what she would’ve envisioned. She frowns slightly as she nitpicks at her reflection, telling Riley to hurry up in the restroom. She wants to see her grand vision in action.

And see it she does. Riley emerges from the bathroom, dressed in a black Bardot dress with an open back and exposed skin on her torso where the chest of the dress cinches into a delicate bow. Maya has paired the look with tie-up knee-high boots. To be blunt, she looks hot as hell, but it’s way bolder than Riley would ever be on her own. She doesn’t quite know how to carry herself in it, making herself smaller as she comes to stand in front of the full-length mirror with Maya.

Maya, whistling: Now that’s what I’m talking about, Riles. Bang bang.

Riley: I don’t know. It feels a little… I mean, don’t you think --

Maya: What I think is that if you carry yourself properly, you’ll look slamming.

She makes subtle adjustments to Riley’s posture in the mirror -- standing up straight, lifting her chin, taking a power stance rather than trying to remain unassuming. And to her credit, Maya is right. Riley does look awesome, especially when she holds herself the way she should. And it still feels like her, too, somehow. Just Riley Matthews with the volume turned up. Maya grins at their reflection, proud of her work.

Maya: You’ve got this in you all the time -- every woman does. It’s part of our natural superior power. Maybe it’s time to let this you take control for a while.

Maybe Maya, scarily, has a point… and she does look damn good…

Maya: You know, rather than being a doormat who defers to everyone else all the time. Just an idea. Especially when you look hot!

Okay, less encouraging. Riley shoots her a glare at that comment, but even when Maya walks away her point remains. Riley contemplates, looking at her empowered reflection.

EXT. SKATE PARK - DAY

Asher arrives at the skate park, finding Isadora sitting on the concrete benches. He plops down next to her with a greeting, asking why she’s just there by herself. Isadora shrugs like it’s no big deal, claiming she wanted to set Dylan free for a bit to have fun on his own terms. She doesn’t mind. It’s fun to just watch him.

And he clearly is having fun. He’s laughing with other skaters and working out some tricks of his own, bright and social as ever. When he does a kick-flip and lands it with a flourish, Isadora comments that he’s gotten really good at skating.

Asher: Yeah. Wasn’t always though. First time he brought me here, he basically face-planted and I had to patch up his wounds.

Isadora: Well, that’s why you’re good together, isn’t it? Balancing each other out.

Asher: Guess so. Friends are like that, too, though. Patch you up when you fall.

Yeah, if they’ve proven anything this week, it would be that. Isadora meets his eyes, offering a small smile that he easily returns. Grateful for his time and effort, even if she doesn’t have the words to articulate it. Asher isn’t going to push her, not one for big emotional speeches either.

And thankfully, they have the best distraction there is to focus on instead. Dylan preps to ride the half-pipe, looking over his shoulder and spotting the two of them. He notices that Asher has joined them, grinning wider. He blows a kiss towards them, then tips off the side and into the rush of the ride.

INT. WEST SIDE THEATER - DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT

It’s Saturday night, and Zay’s final performance in West Side Story. He’s backstage getting ready when Yindra and Nigel are allowed backstage to visit, exchanging cool nods with a couple of the other performers before rushing over to him. Nigel asks Zay for a big favor, to which he raises his eyebrows.

Zay: Depends. How big is this favor?

Nigel: … so the techies are here tonight, and Jade is with them, but she said she’d be just as happy sitting with me and Yindra. So then I mentioned how you took us backstage the other day, and how cool that was, and then I said maybe you could do the same for her. At least to see the costumes. Man, if I could get Jade back here to see actual Broadway --

Yindra, helpfully: Off-Broadway…

Nigel: -- level costumes, she would think it was so cool. Please, can she come backstage after the show? Please. Please?

Zay: Alright, alright! You can bring her back here, Shakespeare-in-love. You’ll just have to wait until we’re done with post-show notes so I can say bye to everyone.

Nigel lightly pumps his fist. Score. Yindra shakes her head at his ridiculousness, obviously well used to his Jade-related monologues by now.

Suddenly, the director flurries into the dressing room in a full state. When the actors ask what the hell is wrong, she informs them that their Tony has succumbed to his illness. He’s not going to be able to make the show.

Actor 1: Succumbed? Is he dead?

Actor 2: His cold? He’s been working through it all week!

Director: Yes, well, now it’s pneumonia. Our Tony has pneumonia, his understudy is out of state, and we are royally fucked.

Yindra, under her breath: That’s what happens when you don’t let yourself recover...

For a moment, there’s the electricity of opportunity in the air as Zay thinks fast. Then he steps forward, stating confidently that he can do it. He can do the Tony role. Yindra and Nigel gape at him, stunned and amazed.

The director starts asking questions, like who will do his role and how he’ll do an entirely new part in one night. Zay’s more than prepared, firing back answers.

Zay: I’ve been studying his rehearsals, I know all the blocking. I can do the singing and dancing in my sleep, and you know I’ve got the range. My understudy is here, so he can just step into the Riff role.

The director considers this, torn between conventionality and truly desperate straits. Zay appeals to her ethos, coming across as stable and capable as he can.

Zay: I can do this. I can play the role.

An endless moment of tension, of uncertainty. Then the director caves, agreeing to the change and instructing Zay to go to costuming fast and get suited up for Tony. They’ll have to make some last-minute tailoring adjustments, but nothing they can’t pull off in the next thirty minutes. Thank God for simple male costuming. Everyone else, warm ups in the green room in five minutes!

The moment she’s gone, Zay turns back to Nigel and Yindra with palpable excitement on his face. They jostle him enthusiastically, lowkey screaming at this turn of events. Zay is about to headline his first Off-Broadway show!

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

In contrast to the high energy of the West Side theater, the Adams auditorium is peaceful. Makes sense, since it’s a Saturday night and school doesn’t open until Monday. The lights are down, only one set of lights on above the stage where Eric is sitting. He’s comfortably on an acting block, looking out at the quiet house and sipping from one of his office mugs.

Unsurprisingly, Jack makes his way onto the stage a few moments later. He raises his eyebrows at seeing Eric already there, but he can’t help but smile.

Jack: I thought we agreed we weren’t coming in this weekend.

Eric: Yeah, and I’m a liar. I caved.

Jack: Well, I’m here too, aren’t I? I just wanted to come in on the offensive.

Eric smiles, patting the acting block set up next to him. Jack walks over, settling down onto the block and releasing a sigh. He soaks in the plaintive quiet for a moment, commenting how different it’ll feel on Monday when the students return. Instances of quiet like this are pretty rare, in this land. The calm before the storm, in a sense.

At least, Eric claims, this year isn’t likely to be the hurricane last year was. And they’re better prepared, now, and they’ve got their school in tip-top shape after this week. They’ve done the work. The kids have done the work. They’re ready now, for what happens next.

Jack chooses to believe he’s right, even with the impending threats that might descend upon their peace come Monday. They joke about how they’re both there bracing for the worst anyway, but Eric points out it’s not just that. He likes coming in just to spend time there, like Stockholm Syndrome almost. Adams, in some ways, is their baby. Especially in the last few years, it’s been something they’ve raised from the ground up to be better. Just like their students.

Jack: And amazingly, I wouldn’t have it any other way. [ raising his thermos ] Partner.

Eric smiles. Even if other aspects of their relationship are murky, that’s something. Partner… he could get used to partner.

Eric clinks his mug against Jack’s thermos, as Zay’s vocals and the orchestral underscore of West Side Story gently floats in...

INT. WEST SIDE THEATER - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Somewhere” as performed by West Side Story Original Cast Recording || Performed by Zay Babineaux & Charlie Gardner

We’re in the second act of the show, Zay obviously killing his first and last stint as Tony. He sings expressively as always, emotive and strong. He has decent chemistry with his co-star as well, especially for only jumping into the role on the fly that night.

In the audience, over the course of the first verse, we see plenty of familiar faces in the audience as Riley planned. She’s sitting next to Lucas, and down the line from him are the rest of the techies, Isadora nestled between him and Dylan. Farkle and Maya are present as well. Jade is sitting next to Nigel, leaning over to whisper something in his ear. Yindra eyes them from Nigel’s other side, amused.

Then, in the back of the house, there’s Charlie. There after all, but hidden away. He’s standing in the wing of the doors to the atrium, though it seems as though he wasn’t hiding there the whole show. He watches Zay perform wistfully, that usual mixture of awe and pride in his features, but it’s cut with melancholy now.

Then, as the Maria verse starts, it’s not Zay’s co-star singing, but Charlie instead. On stage, it’s not the actual performance but the two of them under the soft lights, sharing the duet with more chemistry and far more emotion than the original duo could ever have. On the line “hold my hand and we’re halfway there,” Charlie and Zay lightly press their palms together, before sliding their fingers together and clasping their hands.

We'll find a new way of living, We'll find a way of forgiving…

But that’s not reality. It’s a nice dream, wishful really, but as apt as the lyrics are, it’s not the truth. Charlie blinks the wetness from his eyes, turning and escaping the theater.

EXT. WEST SIDE THEATER - NIGHT

Charlie pushes into the breezy summer night, letting out an exhale. He stands frozen for a moment, torn over going back in to see it through to the end…

But he can’t. It’s over now. What’s done is done. Charlie stuffs his hands in his pockets and starts down the street, pointedly alone in the Manhattan evening. The orchestra plays him off as we watch him get further and further away…

INT. WEST SIDE THEATER - ATRIUM - NIGHT

Zay, on the other hand, is surrounded by company as he gathers with spectators after the performance. He’s clutching flowers from his family as the director lauds his talents to DONNA BABINEAUX, OMAR BABINEAUX, and JADA BABINEAUX. She states he’s a life-saving performer, totally saved the show tonight, and he knows her number for when he’s ready to jump back on the stage. Talk about a helpful connection!

After she flutters off, Donna pulls Zay into a hug and tells him how incredibly proud she is. Omar echoes the sentiment. Jada playfully elbows him and then ruffles his hair, to his complaints, saying she can’t let his head get too big, now. Might have to take a pin to it and let out some of the hot air.

They release him to go greet his adoring fans -- that is to say, his friends. He fields compliments as he goes, finding his way to Riley, Lucas, Dylan, and Asher first. Riley gives him a tight embrace, saying he was amazing and talking about how cool it was to see him play Tony. I mean, the leading role!

Zay: Gotta say, I’m amazed you’re here, Friar. Didn’t think Riley had that much power.

Riley, cheekily: Well, you shouldn’t doubt my influence.

Lucas: [ rolling his eyes ] You can take my presence as the highest compliment.

Zay: Sure…

Dylan: You know, I always knew you’d make a great Tony.

Zay: No kidding?

Dylan: Oh, yeah. Just this tingle I got. Between us here [ leaning in conspiratorially ] I’m kind of a little bit psychic.

Zay: Nooo kidding…

Asher grins, leaning into Dylan’s side. He commends Zay again for his stellar performance, giving him an out to escape the conversation. Zay nods gratefully -- for more than just the compliment -- sliding past them and spotting the person he wants to speak with next.

Isadora is standing between Farkle and Maya’s crowd and the rest of the A class congregation, but somehow she still comes off isolated. Zay saunters over to join her, making a light joke about how she’s emerged from her hibernation and it’s good to see her again. Isadora manages to laugh along, then congratulates him on a good performance. Before he can respond, she blurts out an addition.

Isadora: She would’ve been here. [ a beat ] My mom. She was going to move to New York, and she… she wanted to know my friends. Wanted to support young talent -- she knew it when she saw it. She would’ve been here.

Zay lets her express the rushed sentiment, then nods appreciatively, before finding the best thing to say in response. He smiles lightly.

Zay: I’m glad you are.

It’s a layered statement. Glad she’s there at all, glad she could be there when her mother couldn’t, emphasizing that her presence matters just as much if not more than her starlet mother’s would’ve. It lands for Isadora, who manages a grateful smile in return.

Zay lets her go, slipping into the A class conversation as they’re in the midst of it. Yindra, Nigel, and Jade greet him enthusiastically, HALEY FISHER and CLARISSA CRUZ waiting for their chance to give him sincere congratulations. It’s so cool, one of them really being up there! And of course, it would be Zay Babineaux.

Unfortunately, though, he picked the worst time to slide into the discussion. They’re actively discussing Charlie, only the mystery has gotten weirder.

Clarissa: No, he literally was here. Like, he sat with us all through Act 1.

Haley: Yeah, he got up in the middle of Act 2, said he had to get some fresh air. Then he never came back. I’ve tried texting him, but he’s not answering.

Clarissa: It was weird, even for Charlie.

Yindra: I swear, that boy is a whole ass enigma for someone who tries to be so intentionally vanilla.

Maybe so, Yindra. Maybe so. It’s clear that Zay doesn’t know how to process this information. The fact that Charlie was there, that he came at all… but then apparently walked right out halfway through. And on the night he was playing Tony, the night where his performance was truly something special.

Either way, it certainly takes the wind out from under his wings.

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Isadora and Farkle walk into her bedroom, which is now considerably tidier than the last time we saw it — Asher clearly followed through with his suggestion of cleaning it. Farkle flops down onto the bed, familiar and comfortable with the environment after a summer of visiting. Isadora takes a seat by her desk, spinning the chair around to face Farkle. They briefly discuss how good Zay was in the show, before Farkle turns the focus to Isadora.

Farkle: So how was your big week?

Isadora: Good, actually. I’ve learned that I need to get back onto the skateboard.

A confusing statement for somebody without context. Farkle props himself up on his elbows and frowns at her.

Farkle: I didn’t know you skated.

Isadora: Oh, I don’t. Not at all.

Farkle watches her with amused bewilderment, glad to see her more upbeat and happy. There’s a soft fondness to his expression, which Isadora catches and squirms at.

Isadora: Stop looking at me like that.

Farkle: Like what?

Isadora: I don’t know. Like... like how Maya looked at my mom.

Farkle snorts at that, sitting up properly now.

Farkle: Nobody will ever look at somebody with as much love and adoration as Maya looked at Valerie.

Isadora looks at Farkle blankly, processing what he just said. She scoffs, but sounds vulnerable when she speaks again.

Isadora: You make it sound like you love me. Or something.

Shock flashes across Farkle’s face for a moment, before he smiles and rolls his eyes casually.

Farkle: Of course I love you, you’re one of my best friends. Pretty stupid question for a genius to ask.

To break the heaviness, Farkle reaches to spin Isadora’s desk chair, making her laugh. She grabs a book off her desk and throws it at him in retaliation, which he just dodges with a yelp.

Farkle: [ shaking his head ] Is this the way you treat your best friends? I understand why Lucas is angry all the time now.

Isadora: Shut up, Icarus.

They look at each other with matching goofy smiles, before Farkle surprises Isadora by launching one of the ratty old stuffed animals on her bed at her. She bursts out laughing as she picks up another book as her weapon of choice.

INT. CHUBBIES - NIGHT

Riley, Lucas, Dylan and Asher have regrouped at Chubbies, able to be there late at night thanks to Lucas’s access to the keys. They’re sitting by couple in the usual booth, chatting about the final week and splitting milkshakes. Even though she won’t be back at school for the first day to avoid the hectic energy, overall, the boys declare their efforts with Isadora a massive success.

Lucas: Well done, spaghetti and pickle.

Dylan: Aye, aye.

Riley grins at them, then takes a moment to speak. She claims they have no idea what the coming year is going to be, but they’ve got each other. And she has this feeling, faith maybe, that it’s going to be good. Really good. Dylan nods in approval, and Lucas too, though his perspective is a little less rosy.

Lucas: Don’t see how it could be any worse than everything else we’ve already endured.

Asher: [ rolling his eyes, to Riley and Lucas ] You two really are the epitome of glass half-full, half-empty.

Lucas shrugs, maintaining his unimpressed expression. Riley beams brighter, leaning closer to him and nudging his side. That, he can’t help but crack a smile at. Then she raises the milkshake glass, lightly, and proclaims a toast.

Riley: To us, and our last summer.

Dylan: And the beginning of the rest of our lives.

I’ll cheers to that! Asher and Riley clink the glasses together.

INT. AAA - HALLWAYS - DAY

And just like that, it’s back to Triple A! Dave Williams and NICK YOGI do their usual routine of wishing us an enthusiastic welcome back to AAA on behalf of the A/V club, which they’re truly resurrecting this year. The mood is nowhere near as somber as the previous year, excitement palpable in the halls for the senior A class.

Dave: We’re back, thotties, for senior year.

Yogi: Something that is essentially guaranteed to be a wild ride.

Dave: We’re bigger. We’re better. We’re feral in the looming shadow of great change.

Yogi: It can only be batshit, especially now that the A class is in charge.

Dave: Can’t wait to see what happens!

Me either, Dave. Me either. We’re on the move, Dave and Yogi jogging past Maya at her locker to go get more footage.

She’s dressed in the Riley-chosen outfit, although she did her best to glam it up by adding a beret to the look and making her blonde locks pin-straight. DARBY WINTERS and SARAH CARLSON approach her, the former eagerly giving her a hug and saying it’s good to see her again. She missed her this summer! Sarah focuses on her outfit, snorting.

Sarah: Who picked your outfit, Hart? Sherlock Holmes?

Maya: [ with a flip of her hair ] I’m a woman of my word, Carlson, and that’s all you need to know. Besides, I’m going for a little bit of a Euro-flair.

Darby: I think it looks great.

Maya: You’re so sweet, Darbs. Misguided, but sweet.

Down the hall, Riley is attempting to adjust to her new look as well. She shrugs off her denim jacket with florals painted on the back that she used to get out of the house without being killed by Cory, obviously nervous about sporting this sleek look.

It’s impossible not to look at her though -- especially for Lucas James Friar. He comes to join her, slowing his approach when he sees the way she’s dressed. His eyebrows shoot up.

Lucas: Wow.

Riley: I know. It’s so… ah. [ making a face ] And I had to basically smuggle myself out of the house, but Maya said I can only wear my jacket when there’s a chance my dad will see, even though I look so, like…

Lucas: No, no, I didn’t mean -- it’s not bad. It looks, uh… you look good.

Riley, hopeful: … really?

Lucas: Yes. Yeah. [ clearing his throat ] I was kind of hoping to go through my life not owing Maya Hart for anything, but…

Oh. Well that’s a very different kind of “wow.” Lucas subtly looks her over again, tentatively resting his hand on her waist. Riley regains some of that confidence she had in the mirror from his approval, biting back a smile. It seems like he might lean closer to kiss her…

When they’re interrupted, Farkle oblivious to their romantic tension as he sidles up on Riley’s other side and greets them pointedly. Lucas retracts his hand and swallows his cocktail of emotions, cutting a glare at Farkle. Riley is more friendly as she returns his greeting, spinning to face him with a smile.

Riley: You seem like you’re in better spirits.

Farkle: Let’s just say I found a way to… let off some steam.

Farkle and Lucas exchange a knowing look. It goes over Riley’s head, who is distracted when Zay wanders over to join their little grouping.

Riley: There he is! Our A class celebrity.

Zay: Riley, please, no dramatics. [ grinning ] But you’re not wrong. Though I’m not the one dressed like one. Damn, Miss M. Where has this been for the last three years?

Riley preens a bit, obviously pleased with the praise of her friends. Though Zay claims he’s got some new bling as well, showing off his new Adams class ring. It’s gold-banded, with his birthstone nestled in the center, a regal red ruby. He also explains that his initials are inscribed on the inside. Riley loves it, but again he defers and states she is the looker today.

Maya: And I’ll take credit for that, thank you very much.

Maya joins them, coming to stand with Farkle and completing their little gathering. It’s insane, honestly, seeing them all interact casually and mostly amicably. Maya brings the conversation back around to the point Dave and Yogi made upon our return -- it’s their school now, bitches.

It’s an empowering thought… for a moment. Their idealized comeback is disrupted by a few underclassmen rushing through the halls, making an eerie yet somewhat excited declaration. She’s coming! She’s here!

The seniors exchange bewildered looks, but they don’t have to wait long for clarity. A reminder of that new factor they almost blissfully forgot makes itself known in the most bombastic way possible. As the opening horns blare…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Confident” as performed by Demi Lovato || Performed by Missy Bradford

Oh, that’s right. She’s here. MISSY BRADFORD is back, as rich, alluring, and privileged as ever. She looks essentially the same as when we last saw her, only her hair is cut to her shoulders now -- though still equally luscious. We pan up from her heeled boots and over her expensive ensemble until she launches into the number, coming in to conquer.

And, to be fair, she’s a decent performer. She’s no diva in terms of talent, but her personality and assertiveness make up for the skill she lacks. She tears up the scenery and messes with underclassmen as she marches on, pulling some in as back-up dancers and simply flirting with other male students.

Our crew of seniors are less won over, still remembering the circus that got her into the school in the first place. A shot hangs on their reactions during the number, a combination of disdain, apprehension, and affront. Lucas is definitely unenthused. Zay and Riley look particularly disturbed, while Maya cocks her head and assesses this new bitch who might think she has a chance of being a threat.

Even so, a banging performance is a banging performance. Ah, to be back at AAA…

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY

Missy isn’t the only new face arriving at Adams on that last first day. Jack and Eric are waiting in the atrium to greet their new coworker. Jack is shifting nervously, Eric reaching out and touching his shoulder to keep him from jittering so much.

Eric: You’re making me seasick.

Jack glares at him, but only after he glances at his hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t get the chance to respond, their guests arriving at exactly that moment. EVELYN RAND, looking professional but unique as always in a fun colorful pantsuit, grins as she makes her entrance with a fellow school board employee in tow. She greets both of them with light embraces, stating it’s always a pleasure to see them.

Then, she introduces their new colleague, HARRISON YANCY. He’s a large, sharply dressed man in his 70s, exuding traditional authority. He shakes their hands, but doesn’t offer the warmth that their boss Evelyn does. As she explains it, he’ll be joining them as an administrative consultant of sorts, monitoring the school for the year to see how things go.

Yes, that is exactly what they don’t want… but nothing to be done about it now. Eric takes control once the introductions are done, charm up as high as he can turn it.

Yancy: Quite a fine institution you have here.

Eric: We know, and we take it’s maintenance quite seriously. And you haven’t seen the best of it -- all you had the pleasure of seeing was this lovely atrium and our lecture hall. Please, allow me to give you both a quick tour. I know you’ve already seen it, Evelyn…

Evelyn: Oh, I never pass up a good tour. Lead the way, Eric. I do hope we get to see the cafeteria. I heard about that renovation you all were planning for the mosaic tiles on the wall, and I’ve been dying of curiosity…

Eric kicks off their walkabout, Yancy examining everything with a critical eye while Evelyn keeps up lively chatter. Eric glances over his shoulder before they disappear from sight, shooting Jack a reassuring thumbs up.

Well, no turning back now. Jack releases a sigh, returning back to the front office.

Riley, pre-lap: This place is insane. How do you keep everything in order like this?

INT. AAA - PROP LOFT - DAY

Riley is up in the prop loft with Asher, who is starting his first day inventory and tidying up. Not that anything would’ve even moved over the summer, but still, he does what he needs to do. He’s meticulously arranging while Riley meanders the shelves, actually getting a good look at the props on display.

Asher: I take my position seriously, that’s how. With effort comes organization, and with organization comes control. And when things are in control, then nothing can go wrong.

Riley: That’s a nice idea. Triple A could use some control.

Asher: If the prop loft wants to descend into disarray, it can do it when I’m dead.

Well, or like, graduated. Riley smiles, shaking her head. She focuses back on the shelves, raising her eyebrows at a sticky note stuck to the cubbyhole of one of the more sizable props. It’s not in Asher’s handwriting like most of them, instead scribbled in Dylan’s messy chicken scratch.

FRAGILE!! Treat her with respect or bear the fury of Asher Lupe Garcia!!!! AND SATAN!!

The prop under such divine protection is a clock, ornate and beautifully carved but obviously delicate. The attention to detail is astounding, and it’s clearly cared for with a lot of love.

Riley: I didn’t realize you all had Satan on speed dial.

Asher looks at her like what the fuck, until he sees what she’s looking at. He rolls his eyes playfully, coming over to join her.

Asher: It’s my favorite prop. Has been since I got here, but we haven’t had a production that it would fit. Guess that’s for the best, since it’s pretty fragile -- hence the warning.

Riley: Yes, Dylan clearly has strong feelings about its protection.

Asher: Yeah, but I’m sure you can guess who almost accidentally broke it first…

Though the comment isn’t exactly complimentary, Asher is smiling fondly as he reads over Dylan’s note again. Then he focuses on the clock, explaining that he tries his best to keep it in shape. That includes keeping the hands functional, which he does by gently pushing the hands counterclockwise back towards the 3.

He has this thing about where the hands are. He never lets them get too close to striking 12. It just started as a habit somewhere in freshman year, but now it’s kind of like a sacred ritual.

Riley, amused: I thought you weren’t superstitious.

Asher: I’m not! [ off her giggle ] This is OCD, not mythos.

Maybe so, but there might be some subconscious reasoning too that he hasn’t taken the time to unpack. And he won’t be doing so today either. Riley lets it go, lightly nudging the hands further backwards in time while Asher goes back to work.

EXT. AAA - LUNCH COURTYARD - DAY

Time is of no concern to Maya, who is sprawled on top of one of the outdoor lunch tables. She’s leaning back on her palms, tilting her head up to absorb the sunshine before they go back into the school for a full day of AAA chaos. Farkle is seated on the bench below her, checking his watch intermittently to make sure they don’t miss class.

He claims it’s weird without Isadora there, to which she responds that now he knows how weird it was when he was gone after his attempt. It’s not right when one of them isn’t there -- they make up AAA, you know. Their personalities. It’s a pretty sentimental comment for Maya Hart, but she breezes past it a moment later.

Maya: Besides, she made the right move ditching today. If Bradford’s little display was any indication, we’re in for a chaotic year. Better for her to take the extra day to prepare for it, maybe the rest of us will simmer down after the first day buzz.

Farkle agrees. He asks what she thought about Missy, like if they should be concerned, but Maya simply scoffs. She is not concerned about that privileged vixen. Maya has been the top bitch at AAA, in their class, for three years.

Maya: No old-money spoiled brat is going to swoop in and take that away. She can try -- but she’ll fail.

Here’s the bottom line: this is their year, for real this time. She may have been displaced emotionally last year, with his whole thing and her mom being relocated -- who she misses terribly, despite how aloof she’s acting about the whole thing -- but this year they’re stronger than that. It’s their turf, Farkle, and it’s their year.

Maya: Mark my words, Farkle --

Farkle: You sure do have a lot of them…

Maya: This year belongs to us. And you and I? We’re going to get everything we want.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The A class assembles for their first performance lab of senior year, cheerful greetings and hugs being exchanged for those who haven’t had the chance to catch up yet.

Zay is up on stage with HARPER BURGESS, the latter complimenting him once again on an excellent show in West Side Story. She knew he had it in him. He’s clearly grateful for the belief, reminding her that he wouldn’t have found out about the opportunity if it weren’t for her. He thanks her for looking out for him. She pats his shoulder, nodding him back down to the seats.

Then she gathers the class, welcoming them back for their senior year. She can feel their excitement even from up on stage. SHAWN HUNTER jogs on stage to join her, but lets her stay in control, having finally figured out their co-teaching balance.

After pointing out that they have old and new faces joining them this year -- a few glances cutting to Missy seated contently on her own in their midst, unbothered -- Harper goes on to explain what the year is going to be like. There’s a lot in store for them this year, and it’s going to be full of hard work. The senior showdown, college applications, emotional highs and lows… but it’s going to be fun too. And enriching, full of growth, as every year at AAA is. There’s very little doubt about that.

As she starts to discuss performances, Maya raises her hand, though she doesn’t wait to be addressed. She happily declares that she and Farkle have actually prepared something for the first performance of the year, so no need to ask for volunteers. They’ve got it covered.

Nate: No one asked.

Actually, Harper starts, they already have someone performing first. That’s what she was just about to explain. This student requested the opportunity to come back with a flourish, since she’s got a lot of catching up to do. Maya is stunned, wondering who already undercut her senior year triumphs.

And she doesn’t wait long to find out. The moment Harper vacates the stage, the jaunty orchestration starts, and suddenly a powerful mezzo soprano voice is filling the auditorium.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Anything Goes / Anything You Can Do” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Chai Fresco

A set piece turns to reveal CHAI FRESCO, back from her year abroad in London. She’s bolder, blonder, and delivers a stunningly strong rendition of the selected mash-up. For someone who effectively blended into the background for all of sophomore year, enough to pull off what she did, she must have been holding back a lot.

Because she’s good. Damn good, delivering the message the performance signals loud and clear. Anything you can do, I can do better…

In the audience, the A class is watching in dumbstruck shock. Some people, like the techies, clearly forgot Chai existed. But for the performers -- especially the divas, like Zay, Farkle, and Maya -- her return is a loud and unwanted wake-up call. Just because they’re all chummy now, there’s still competition, now more than ever before. They take the vocals that argue with Chai about whether or not she can outshine them.

And in this moment, she does. She throws her arms out wide and delivers the final resounding notes, shattering the finale. Maya, Farkle, and Zay stare at her with their mouths dropped open. Riley grimaces, knowing this can only mean drama. Next to her, Lucas tries to hide a laugh behind his hand.

Now we’re really back. As for what this year holds, well, we obviously can’t get too comfortable.

Anything goes!

END OF EPISODE.

#S3 #episodes #301 #AND WE'RE BACK!

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frangelic999 · 4 years

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Resident Evil Time

As we all know, Spooky Season began on August 1st, as it does every year. Skeletons began to emerge from the earth, and we all joined together to help along the slightly unripe ones with just a knuckle bone sticking up out of the lawn. Pumpkins rolled down into town from the foothills, snuggling into piles of radiant leaves as they awaited their new, temporary keepers. Here on the west coast of America, ash began to fall from the sky, as it does every season of ash, and we all went out to frolic in the ash as we gasped for air in our newly toxic Zone. It never rains in California, except when it’s raining ash. As such, around August 1st I began my quest of playing every mainline Resident Evil game, and a couple of spin-offs. What follows is the book report that I wrote on this experience.

Resident Evil is a series that’s been on my radar in one way or another as far back as 1996, when I was a kid, but I never really took a very close look at it, or wanted to, until I played RE7 in 2019. My oldest memory involving this game is wandering Blockbuster with my older brother looking for a game to rent. Another kid was there, also with their older brother, and the little kid suggested Resident Evil, but the bigger kid sagely declared “Nah, the controls are bad,” and they left it at that. I don’t know why I remember this, but I do, and my general feeling about Resident Evil was negative, I think because I had played the demo and didn’t like it, due to the fact that it’s not really designed in such a way that a kid would like it much. My first actual experience with the series, outside of that, was playing Resident Evil 3 in 1999. At the time, I loved it, but I was 12, and wouldn’t have been able to articulate anything about why I liked it other than “cool videogame, Jill pretty. Jill me.” I also played RE4 and RE5 around the time they came out, and I enjoyed them as fun action games, but still didn’t think much of the series or really care about survival horror. My other experience with the genre pretty much only extends to Alan Wake, Dino Crisis, and Dead Space, all of which I played so long ago that I remember almost nothing about them. What kind of monsters does Alan Wake fight? Couldn’t say. Could be anything, really. I remember the main character of Dino Crisis, Regina. She had red hair. Regina pretty. Regina me? Strangely enough, wanting to play the role of formidable, independent, resourceful, attractive women in games was a running theme in my formative years. What could this possibly mean? We may never know. But anyway, I was very excited to go on this journey into the survival horror franchise, and one of the most iconic franchises of all time. It had its highs and lows, but it was well worth it, and I emerged with a newfound appreciation for the design and appeal of survival horror games. The intention here isn’t to give a full, thorough analysis of these games or a breakdown of every aspect of them, but to compile my various thoughts on them, so it’s more of an opinionated overview than a deep dive.

Resident Evil (1996)

It’s actually really hard to place this game when making a tier list, due to the simple fact that none of these other games would exist without the conventions Resident Evil set. It was groundbreaking, and literally invented a genre. At the same time, it's impossible for me to not compare it to other, better games, because I have knowledge of the rest of the series. It was an experiment for Capcom, and it shows in the game's rough edges. It feels like it had good ideas that didn’t always live up to their full potential, due to some combination of inexperience, available hardware/software, and questionable implementation.

RE1 is... not very good at being scary. It does its best, but it's a fairly early PS1 game. I think a lot of this has to do with the atmosphere and graphics. Visually, it’s just kind of ugly in that early PS1 way, and the color choices are dull and lack cohesion. For a horror game taking place in a spooky dilapidated mansion, it feels a little too bright, and I’m guessing it has to do with the fact that no one really knew how to make darkness convincing on PS1 at the time. But it’s not entirely the PS1’s fault this game is ugly, as you can see from RE2 and RE3 being not ugly. The color choices and backgrounds just aren’t especially lush or interesting.

I don't really need to go into the voice acting and writing of this game, due to their status of legendary badness. The live action cutscenes are unbelievably cheesy and almost impossible to watch with a straight face. The live action ending where Jill and Chris hold hands as they fly away in a helicopter is incredibly dumb. If you correctly chose Jill as your main character, it just seems incongruous that after fighting her way out of a deathtrap of horrifying creatures, she's now laying her head on the big strong man's shoulder. It’s bad, but fortunately the game isn’t entirely bad narratively. It was surprising, in a game from 1996, to see the in-world documents scattered around that add to the narrative, telling you what's really going on and adding detail to the broader strokes of the story. This is a thing that's ubiquitous in games now, AAA or otherwise, and I'm wondering if this game helped to establish that facet of games. RE1 has a simple story of evil corporate experiments gone wrong, with the driving force behind everything the player/character does being escape from the mansion, and this simplicity really works in its favor. As we shall see in later RE games, convoluted stories don’t really lend themselves all that well to horror.

If you look at other games released in 1996, there are a lot of fast paced action games, like 3D platformers and first person shooters, as well as RPGs, and it's clear this game was something different. It has that slow, methodical play that makes survival horror feel unique. The feeling of not knowing what's waiting for you behind the next door, but knowing you have to go anyway, and that balance between surviving and solving puzzles to progress. The backtracking and item hunts, the interlocking paths and puzzles, the environmental storytelling and documents, the sense of isolation, it's all here in the first game. Some players may not find inventory management thrilling, but it’s a key part of these games, and it’s mostly done well in the good ones. Inventory management and item scarcity are a big part of what actually captures that feeling of “survival horror.” Since items are needed to progress, your inventory is directly tied to your progress, and at its best this forces you to make tough decisions about what you really need to carry and by extension makes you play more conservatively and prioritize avoidance. At its worst, it forces you to go back to previous areas for no reason and wastes your time while hurting the pace of the game, which RE1 is only guilty of at one point toward the end. The more weapons and ammo you have, the less room you have to do the work of actually progressing in the game through item-based puzzles, so you often have to sacrifice some of your lethality to progress smoothly. There’s a fine line between giving the player too many resources and too few, and almost all good survival horror games walk that line very well. It's also just thematically appropriate that your character isn't able to lug around a hundred pounds of gear. The open-ended nature of exploration, or the illusion thereof, is also an important aspect of survival horror. In good Resident Evil games, you usually have multiple doors you can choose to open, multiple potential paths, and feeling out which one is right, and which places are safe to travel, is a big part of the game. That exploratory feeling of gradually extending your reach and knowledge of the place you're in, knowing how vulnerable you are but also knowing you have to keep going deeper, gives the player a much greater sense of agency than more linear horror experiences.

All of these good design elements are firmly established by RE1, but they're just not executed as well as in future Resident Evil and survival horror titles, and by today's standards, playing it can feel like a chore. I think it certainly deserves a huge amount of credit for establishing almost everything that's good and defining about survival horror. There were earlier horror themed games, and I'm sure there are online people who'd be strangely invested in arguing that it's not the first survival horror game, but Resident Evil was clearly something new, different, and more sophisticated. It feels like a beginning, a rough draft, but it established something special. In some ways, I feel like RE1 has actually aged better than a lot of its 1996 contemporaries. Not in terms of controls, visuals or voice acting, heavens no. But, in terms of things like a focus on atmosphere, good pacing, and elegant, focused design, much of it still holds up today.

-Monster Review Corner-

These are the monsters that started it all. Zombies, undead dogs, hunters, Tyrant, and the absolute classic, a big plant that hates you. And who can forget the most forgettable monsters, giant spiders? The enemies themselves aren't especially exciting, but honestly, they work very well for the style and slow pace of this game. The deadly mansion full of the living dead is a classic horror setting. Things like Hunters and Tyrant seem pedestrian by series standards now, but they would have been a surprise in a zombie game in 1996, and Hunters are terrifying when they first appear. Overall monster score: 7/10

Time to complete: 5:46

Games were shorter overall in 1996, but the short game length is another survival horror trait the game established, and that brevity is a trait I really appreciate about this series and the genre as a whole.

Resident Evil 2 (1998)

I feel like I’m going to be using the word “better” a lot. RE2 is immediately more cinematic than its predecessor, which is a good thing. It’s an important element of establishing tension and atmosphere. All the best horror movies, in my opinion, have smart and artful cinematography behind them. I’m not going to say Resident Evil 2 has masterful cinematic direction, but it’s a vast improvement over the previous game. Gone are the super cheesy FMV cutscenes and the atrocious voice acting. The voice acting here isn't great by today's standards, but people do talk mostly like humans! This must be due to the fact that it was the first time Capcom ever outsourced voice acting to a studio outside of Japan. The writing is also much, much better. The soundtrack is much more atmospheric, and even the save room music is better. Visually, the game looks so much better. Character models are more detailed and lifelike, and backgrounds are much more detailed, colorful and cohesive. I vastly prefer the character designs to those of RE1. They’re very 90s, in a fun anime way. Even the portraits in the inventory screen look way better. Even the story and the documents you find are more well written and interesting, and Umbrella is established as a more sinister and far-reaching presence.

RE2 gives you separate campaigns for Claire and Leon that are similar, but different in some major ways. Rather than being a super long game, it has a short campaign that can be replayed multiple times with different characters for improved ranks, unlockables, and short bonus levels. I actually really like this kind of replayability, as opposed to the much more common type of replayability of modern games, which is just making the game 100 hours long and filled with boring sidequests, trinkets and skill points. This is partially because I inevitably burn out on that kind of game, even if I like it (Horizon Zero Dawn, Breath of the Wild) and never finish the game. Super Bunnyhop has a whole video (“Let’s Talk About Game Length”) about the advantages of this game’s style of replay value which is worth a watch. I’m much more likely to rank a game among my favorites if I’m actually compelled to finish it. I’m always annoyed by how persistently gamers thoughtlessly complain about these games (or any game for that matter) being too short. Gee, maybe that has something to do with why 4, 5, and 6 all feel so bloated and outstay their welcome. Funny how the three most recent games in the series that brought it back from the brink of total irrelevance are all under ten hours in length.

The level design feels less haphazard and boring than RE1, but retains the satisfying sense of interconnectedness that the original mansion had. The balance of the game is good, and it feels dangerous without ever feeling unfair, like all the best RE games. Distribution of healing items and ammo feels right - I rarely felt like I was in serious danger of running out, but I always felt the pressure to conserve ammo and remember where healing items were to pick up later. This game is also a sterling example of the kinds of boss fights that work in survival horror. Rather than being reflex tests, boss fights are more a test of how smartly and conservatively you’ve been playing. If you’ve saved enough powerful ammo by playing well, you’ll have no problem with boss monsters, and there’s also the alligator fight, which, if you were paying attention to the area you just traversed, can be ended with one bullet.

Overall, it’s a huge improvement over RE1 in every way imaginable, and a genuinely good game even by today’s standards, if you discount the cheesy voice acting and dated cutscenes. I finished RE1 in two sittings because I wanted to get it over with, but I finished RE2 nearly as fast because it was hard to stop playing. This is where the series came into its own, and RE2 feels like the beginning of the series as we know it today, while RE1 feels more like an experimental rough draft.

-Monster Review Corner-

This game, overall, has some great monsters. Fantastic monsters, and this is where you’ll find ‘em. First, we’ve got your classic zombies. Classic. We’ve got your zombie dogs, two for one deal. We’ve got some evil birds who inexplicably burst through a window one time. Okay, decent. Giant spiders, boooring. But then, here comes a new challenger! It’s lickers, one of perhaps the most iconic Resident Evil monsters. These nasty wall crawlin’ flesh puppies have got exposed brains, big ol’ claws, razor sharp tongues and a complete lack of sight. Due to this last fact, you can avoid them by being very quiet, which is extremely survival horror. Lickers are great. RE2 also has a giant alligator, which even the RE2 remake team thought was too silly to include in the remake (but to the great relief of everyone around the world, he made it anyway). Personally, I love the fact that they brought the classic urban cryptid, the mutant sewer gator, into the RE family. RE2 also has a Tyrant who chases you around in the second scenario. He’s just Nemesis before Nemesis. There are also big plant monsters who look like walking venus fly traps, totally rad. And finally, all of the G-Mutation designs pretty much set the stage for the monster design of all future RE mutants, including Nemesis. They have this alien, body horror feel to them that’s become a hallmark of the series. Overall monster score: 10/10

Time to complete: 5:06

Resident Evil 3: Nemesis (1999)

RE3 has a darker tone than RE2, a lot of quality of life changes, and the terrifying presence of an unstoppable Nemesis. It’s a more combat oriented game, not in that combat is more complex, but in that there are more weapons, more ammo, faster zombies, and in comparison to the two previous games there are more times where it’s safer to kill enemies than avoid them. Jill can also dodge and quick turn. Dodging is fine, and quick turn, was an excellent addition that’s been in every RE since then, minus RE7. It’s a very good game, but the fact that there are fewer moments of quiet exploration and puzzling detracts from the variety of the game and makes it feel more one note. It definitely feels more like an action movie, not just in its increased amount of fighting but also in its story beats and cutscenes. I think it’s important to make a distinction between the style of this game and RE4/5/6, in that those are action games with light or nonexistent survival horror elements, while this is a survival horror game with action elements. I played the game on hard mode, because this game only has hard and easy mode. Hard is essentially normal, it's what you'd come to expect from the series, and easy mode is easy and gives you an assault rifle at the start.

The titular Nemesis is such a great way to change up the Resident Evil formula. The first time you encounter him, he kills Brad in a cutscene, and you run into the police station. You think he’ll just appear at certain times during cutscenes and maybe a boss fight, but then a little while later he bursts through a window and chases you, and he’s faster than anything encountered previously in the series. That’s when it becomes clear that you’re going to be hunted, and from that point on Nemesis is in the back of your mind at all times, injecting an undercurrent of paranoia into every moment of methodical exploration. Although, I do have complaints about Nemesis, too. If you’re familiar with the series up to this point, his appearances are undermined by that very knowledge. What I mean is that if you played the first two games, you start to get a sense of when events or attacks are going to be triggered in Resident Evil, and that makes Nemesis much more predictable. You start to think “whelp, it’s about time for another Nemesis attack,” and then he shows up. Also, the first time you’re actually supposed to stand and fight him is an awful boss fight, and the first really bad boss fight in the series. The game’s dodge mechanic is finicky and hard to time, and it’s an important part of winning the fight, at least on hard mode. He’s basically a bullet sponge, which is not interesting.

Something that I like about three is it really expands on the setting by giving you lots of details about Umbrella and their relation to Raccoon City. You learn that not only have they infiltrated the city government and police, but a lot of the city's infrastructure was funded by Umbrella donations. You also learn that they maintain their own paramilitary force and are a far reaching, international corporation. Umbrella is really fleshed out as a more robust and powerful organization here.

Another unique aspect of this game, that’s never been in another RE game, is the “choose your own adventure” system. Nemesis will be after you, and you can choose between two different options, such as running into the sewers or hiding in the kitchen. You have a limited time to make these choices, and they have positive or negative outcomes, but never outright kill you, as far as I could tell. It’s kind of neat, and an interesting way to change things up occasionally, but not especially important.

Overall, this is an excellent Resident Evil game, though a good deal less original and groundbreaking than RE2.

-Monster Review Corner-

Honestly, most of the monsters are fine, but nothing to write home about. Nemesis is the star of the show, which you can already tell by the fact that the game is named after him and he’s on the front cover. He’s like the cooler, better, more deadly version of a Tyrant. Nemesis score: 10/10

Time to complete: 5:32

An Aside About Puzzles

I’ve been trying to figure out how to articulate what I like about the puzzles in this series, and this seems as good a place to put these thoughts as any. I get that not everyone likes the puzzles in this series, and that many of them can only be called puzzles in a very loose sense, but I think they add a crucial ingredient to the games.

The thing is, if they were more complicated or difficult puzzles, they would take up too much screen time, they would overpower the rest of the game, like too much salt in a dish. There are a lot of them where you have to follow riddle-like clues to figure out what to do, but they're all pretty easy. There are a lot of item hunts that boil down to finding item A and bringing it to point B, or combining item A with item B and using the result at point C, and I remember plenty of jokes over the years playfully lampooning this facet of Resident Evil. But, while playing through these games, I found myself dissatisfied with the view that these item hunts and simple puzzles are stupid, or bad game design. Because really, what makes these games good is not shooting or puzzles or atmosphere or good monsters, but all of these elements working together in harmony. It seems like the more harmonious that balance, the better the Resident Evil game. All these little parts make up the whole. The puzzles aren't hard, sure, but they aren't meant to be. They add an element of sleuthing and a sense of accomplishment and progression that would otherwise be lacking, and which could easily slip into frustration if they were any more difficult, and detract from the overall experience. If you just went around and shot at monsters and opened doors, it would be missing something big, and it would be a much poorer series. If you need evidence of that, may I direct you to Resident Evils 4 to 6. Without that exploratory feeling, without that aha feeling of figuring it out, it would feel bland. "If I use this item to open this, then I get this thing and I combine it with this, it frees up space in my inventory, and now I can take them back to the spot I remember from earlier because I was paying attention and taking mental notes, and I can open this path..." I'd argue that this feeling of things clicking together neatly, of attentive and methodical play paying off, is integral to the series and to the entire genre it spawned. The whole game is a puzzle that you’re figuring out, and things like item juggling, map knowledge, and carefully leaving enough space in your inventory are a part of that puzzle.

The puzzles in the series are more representational than what might usually be called a puzzle. The item lugging, inventory swapping parts that I remember being maligned at one time are more akin to piecing together a jigsaw puzzle, but those pieces are scattered across a monster infested, carefully designed, difficult to traverse map. What made RE7 feel so much like a revival of Resident Evil, despite it being a first person game that looks and feels very little like its predecessors, was returning to this approach to game design. It was a polished and well made return to the principles that made survival horror popular. The fact that Capcom brought back all those often complained about puzzles and item hunts, and slashed the current idea of game length to ribbons, returning to the roots of the series, and then those games being so highly praised, feels so right in part because it feels like the developers are saying "look, a lot of you were totally wrong about what made these games good."

Resident Evil - Code: Veronica (2000)

To me the most immediately noticeable thing about this game is Claire’s embarrassingly early-2000s outfit: high rise boot cut jeans, cowgirl boots, a short-sleeved crop top jacket, all topped off with a pink choker and fingerless gloves. I don’t think I’ve ever seen character design that so perfectly encapsulates the time period of a game’s release. It’s bad, and the game only gets worse from there.

I really tried to like Code Veronica, at first. But after playing RE1-3, saying it's underwhelming is putting it lightly. I honestly don't think I have a single good thing to say about this game, and it's possibly the worst mainline Resident Evil game ever made (RE6 being the only thing that might take that crown of trash in its stead). It's pretty much not possible to take Code Veronica seriously in any way, especially not as a horror game. The visuals have no sense of darkness or atmosphere and manage to look much worse than the old pre-rendered graphics, the puzzles are uninspired rehash, the enemies and bosses are irritating, the character designs are a particular type of early-2000s bad, the voice acting is insufferable, the story is asinine, and the game is full of the bad kind of backtracking. It's not entirely the game's fault it's ugly, it's a product of its time, but it's weird to see in retrospect because it looks worse than RE3 from one year prior. Previous RE games had bad voice acting, but this is the first one where the voice acting makes you want to turn the game off.

Up until this point, the storylines of Resident Evil games were very simple. Evil corporation caused chaos with a virus, get out alive. There are details scattered throughout about how the city and government were being paid off, but that’s the gist of it. Code Veronica is where the lore of RE starts to get convoluted and sometimes very dumb. I won’t go into all the ways the story is bad, but suffice it to say this is definitely when Resident Evil jumped the shark, and it paves the way for the stupidity of RE4. It also uses the “mentally ill people are scary” horror trope, which is perhaps my least favorite horror trope. The villain for most of the game, Alfred, has *gasp* a split personality and thinks he’s also his sister. Of course, at one point Claire calls him a “crossdressing freak.” I’ll just leave it at that. Of course nobody who writes this kind of thing bothers to do any kind of research into the mental illnesses they use as story crutches. I feel like I need to mention the voice acting, for Steve and Alfred particularly. Steve sounds like he walked off of a middle school campus, and Alfred sounds like your local community theater’s production of Sweeney Todd. They’re both absolutely atrocious and make the game that much more annoying to play. Claire’s acting is about what you’d expect from a Saturday morning cartoon of the era.

As though the fact that it's a bad game visually and narratively wasn't enough, it's also badly designed, not much fun to play, and way longer than the previous three. The game’s map, at least for Claire’s portion (most of the game), is divided into multiple small areas, each with one path leading to them, so you have to go over these paths repeatedly once you’ve retrieved an item from a completely different area, and it makes for a lot of very tiresome backtracking. The series always had backtracking, of course, but never over such long, samey stretches of space. On top of this, there are tons of blatantly bad design choices. To name a few:

-The hallway you have to traverse multiple times containing moths which poison you and respawn every time you leave and are really hard to hit on top of being a waste of ammo. It’s hard to see how they were unaware that this is bad since they also leave an infinite supply of poison antidotes in the same room

-The fact that there’s no indication whatsoever that you should leave items behind for the next character you have to play, which left me struggling to even be able to kill enemies as Chris

-Multiple times where in order to trigger progress you have to look at or pick up a certain thing, not for any logical in-game reason but just because it triggers a cutscene. One of these makes you look at the same thing twice, and I wandered around not knowing what to do for a while before checking a walkthrough

-More than one save room that contains no item box, when this game asks you to constantly juggle items and repeatedly travel long distances with specific items

There’s more, but I don’t want to write or think about this bad game anymore. This game is a slag heap that deserves to be forgotten, and I hope it’s never remade. Something I find really disappointing about Code Veronica is that the setting is ripe for a good Resident Evil game, but they botch it. It takes place in two locations, a secret island prison run by Umbrella, and an antarctic research station, both of which I can imagine a great RE game taking place in. I guess, really, the best thing that can be said about Code Veronica is that it’s a survival horror game. They didn’t totally stray from the principles that made the series good, they just implemented those things very badly, in a very stupid game.

Time to complete: who knows, I quit near the final stretch of the game. The internet says it takes about 12:30, which is far too long.

REmake (2002)

I played the remake first, and it’s the only game I played out of order, because when I started I had no plans to play the entire series. It’s a remake that fixes everything wrong or dated about the original while keeping the things that made it good, and I would say it’s the definitive version of the game and the one that should be played.

Visually, a lot of it looks very good, and uses darkness much better than the original. I like this game’s high def pre-rendered backgrounds, because it’s like looking into an alternate reality where pre-rendered graphics never went away, and just increased in fidelity. I actually really like a lot of the backgrounds in this game. Pre-rendered backgrounds have their shortcomings, but I think they can play a role in horror games. They give the developers total control of how things are framed, and framing/direction are a big part of what can make things ominous or scary in horror movies. You can do this to some extent in games with free cameras, but without nearly as much control. I think over time the popular consensus became that pre-rendered backgrounds are inherently bad, but I think like any style of graphics they have their pros and cons. The late 90s Final Fantasies are great examples of how pre-rendered graphics can be used to frame characters and events in certain ways.

The strongest suit of this game is that it really feels like a horror game, and avoidance is encouraged over combat due to scarce ammo and healing. The pace is slow and thoughtful, the mansion is sprawling and claustrophobic, and even one or two zombies feels like a threat, especially before you find the shotgun. Even after that, shotgun shells are fairly scarce. Like the original, combat mechanics are intentionally very simple and limited, though this one sees the introduction of the defensive items that return in the RE2 and 3 remakes. One thing I really like is that if you kill a zombie and leave their body, without decapitating or burning it, it will eventually mutate into a fast and powerful zombie, and these are genuinely threatening to encounter. You constantly have to make decisions in this game about what’s more important, immediate safety or conserving ammo. The fuel that’s used to burn corpses is limited, and can be used strategically to eliminate threats from frequently traveled areas. It’s a great idea for a game mechanic, but in practice, I rarely did this, because inventory is so limited that it didn’t feel worthwhile to use two of my eight slots on a lighter and fuel. Another nice added horror element is the fact that doors aren’t always safe. You’ll hear monsters pounding on doors, see them shaking, and at multiple points they’ll be smashed open when you thought you were safe.

A lot of the ideas that made this game good and the original good are ideas that were returned to in RE7, the RE3 remake, and especially the RE2 remake, and a big part of what made those games so successful.

Time to complete: 10:15

In my opinion it ran a little too long. It takes almost twice as long as the original, and I feel like the added areas pad out that length rather than improving the game. Even though I think it’s a very good game, it started feeling like a slog in the last few hours.

Resident Evil Zero (2002)

After Code Veronica, it was initially refreshing to feel like I was actually playing Resident Evil again and not some subpar knockoff. This one feels a lot more like classic RE, and in its slower pace it’s most similar to REmake or the original trilogy. I played the HD remaster of RE0(which changes nothing but the graphics) since it's the one I own on steam, so I can't speak to the original GameCube graphics, but the art direction itself is vastly better, and it creates an atmosphere that's perfectly Resident Evil. Highly detailed backgrounds, with rich dark colors, old paintings, dusty bookshelves, soft clean lighting, marble and dark wood, wind-rustled ivy, shadows and rain, creep dilapidated industrial spaces. The HD remaster is gorgeous, and one of the best looking games in the series.

This game adds two major new mechanics: playing as a team of two and swapping between characters, and the ability to drop items anywhere. Character swapping is an interesting gimmick, made more of a curiosity by the fact that it will probably never be used again in a RE game. Often it's pretty neat, but just as often, it's an annoying chore. I like the idea of controlling two characters, but I don't think what they attempted to do with it was entirely successful, and could have been better with a couple of simple changes. Ultimately all the inventory management required feels like more trouble than it's worth, especially since you have to carry weapons and ammo for both characters. Between inventory management and swapping off-character actions, I found myself in the inventory screen a lot more than in previous games. It seems like they could have alleviated these problems with more inventory space and buttons for switching off-character actions. Most of the time it ends up feeling like a chore to manage two characters and two separate inventories. In theory, the ability to drop items anywhere adds an element of player choice and planning, but in practice, I just found myself missing the item box that allows you to access the same items from different places.

This game is fine for the first hour or two, but ends up getting more and more frustrating the farther you get into it. After playing about half the game, I started feeling like I'd be having a less terrible time on easy mode. I died in it a lot more times than in any previous game. The combination of really irritating new enemy types and all weapons (even the grenade launcher) feeling underpowered means there are multiple enemy encounters where you're just forced to lose health. This wouldn't be so bad if there were enough healing items around, but there aren't. Every enemy in the game, even a basic zombie, feels too bullet sponge-y. I repeatedly found myself with very little ammo and no healing items, so in a lot of situations I would just die, and reloading with the foreknowledge of what rooms would contain felt like the only way to progress. Managing the health of two characters, one who has very low health, makes it that much harder. I played through all of the previous games on normal difficulty (RE3 on hard) so I know I'm not imagining the spike in difficulty. It's possible they wanted to make this game challenging for series veterans, but if that's the case they missed the mark, because part of what makes a good RE game is excellent balance of difficulty. In a good RE, you always feel like you're facing adversity but still progressing, and you really don't die all that often if you're being careful and using the right weapons for situations. In RE0, you just die a lot to frustrating video game garbage and feel irritated that you have to reload and repeat content. To make matters even worse, aiming feels weirdly sticky in this game and movement feels clunkier than previous games for some reason.

Just like Code Veronica, this game has a premise that seems like it should excel as a Resident Evil game, but it misses the mark. With the new mechanics, it feels like they were struggling to think of ways to further refine and reinvent a series that was getting a little tired. I love the formula of the first three games, but I can understand why after six games following that same formula, with a lot of very similar in-game occurrences and puzzles, they wanted to move in a different direction with RE4. This game feels like it's floundering, attempting to reinvent the series while being chained to the same rules, and though I have mixed or negative feelings about the next three games, it feels like the series was in dire need of a total overhaul.

-Monster Review Corner-

Whoever designed the monsters in this game thought that giant animals are absolutely horrifying. Giant bat, giant scorpion, giant centipede, giant roaches. There are also guys made of leeches, and they're pretty boring and annoying to fight, and it's hard not to find the way they move comedic. There are also hunters and your typical zombies. All in all, a lackluster offering of critters. Overall monster score: 3/10

Resident Evil 4 (2005)

Let's get the obvious out of the way: this game feels almost nothing like Resident Evil, and feels less and less like it the further into it you get. The devs made sure to do a lot of things that make RE4’s identity as an action game very obvious. It’s a game of series firsts: first in the series with an over the shoulder camera, first with weapon stats, first with such an abundance of enemies and weapons, first with QTEs, first where the primary enemies aren’t shambling zombies, first with currency and a merchant, the first where Umbrella isn’t the big bad, the first where you can karate kick and suplex enemies. It’s incredibly not survival horror. It might succeed as a 2005 action game, but it fails miserably at being Resident Evil.

I’m feeling generous, so I’ll start with the things I like about RE4. I really do appreciate that it’s a slower and more methodical action game than its contemporaries, and precise, thoughtful shooting is rewarded. I also like that the over the shoulder camera gives you a pretty narrow field of view, which makes it always feel like enemies could be lurking just off screen. This makes things more tense and is often used to surprise the player, especially in the early game. The almost identical perspective used in the exceptional RE2 and RE3 remakes shows that they weren’t off the mark with this element of the game’s design. However, in RE4 even this good thing is undercut by the fact that jarring, anxious combat music plays whenever enemies are anywhere nearby. The first 2-4 hours of this game, just about up to the Mendez boss, are actually a pretty good game, and provide most of the really tense and scary moments. Unfortunately, these opening hours aren’t really indicative of all the stupid shit to come. Something I grew to hate about this game is that it feels like it just goes on and on and on. It took me around 12 hours, which is short by video game standards, but long by RE standards. By the time I reached the end, it had long outstayed its welcome. Even in these early, decent moments, there was still stuff I hated, like the button mashing quick time events to run from Indiana Jones boulders, the garishly glowing item drops, the dumb kicks, the dynamite zombies.

The crux of a survival horror experience is the feeling of vulnerability, and this feeling is only scarcely captured in the opening few hours of RE4, when it’s still sort of pretending to be Resident Evil. But then, you keep getting more and more powerful, as you do in action games, you keep getting more and more weapons and upgrades and grenades and facing more and more enemies and bosses until it all feels trivial. It’s thoroughly an action game, and by the time you’re near the end, storming a military fort guarded by heavily armed commando zombies manning gatling turrets while you’re aided by helicopter support, it’s clear the game has entirely stopped masquerading as Resident Evil. On top of being a big stupid action game, it’s also extremely a video game. The glowing items that are dropped whenever enemies die, the tiny adorable treasure chests full of doubloons, the big garish video game markers for QTEs(and the most heinous kinds of QTEs: button mashing QTEs and mid-cutscene QTEs), the action movie window jumps and kicks, the cultists driving a death drill, Leon’s backflips, the dumb one-liners that scarcely make sense at times, a giant fish boss, a mine cart level. The absurd stupidity of this game never lets up, so much so that playing it in 2020, it feels almost like an intentional parody, which I know it’s not.

The story is kind of silly from the start, and delves increasingly into the realm of asinine bullshit as it goes on, as though Capcom and Shinji Mikami sought out the dumbest ideas they could find. In RE2, Leon was a cop for one day during a zombie apocalypse, and now somehow he's working for the White House on a solo mission finding the president's daughter. It's quite the barely explained leap. One of my least favorite things in the narrative department is that Leon's voice acting and dialogue make him insufferable. The humble rookie from RE2 is gone, replaced by a heavily masculinized, aggressive, arrogant, misogynistic, backflipping action movie hero. We went from six consecutive games with women either as one of two playable main characters or the only playable character, with Jill Valentine in RE3 single-handedly destroying the most powerful BOW ever created, to a game where a gruff manly man is tasked with rescuing a literal damsel in distress, and has actual lines like “Feh, women” and “Sorry, but following a lady’s lead just isn’t my style.” It’s atrociously bad, and I hate the character they decided he should be for this game. It also doesn’t even make sense, because why would he even have that attitude towards women after seeing what Claire can do in RE2? It’s a huge step backwards for the series. On top of this awfulness, the actual plot points are just increasingly unbelievable and imbecilic, in a way that totally undercuts any way in which the game could theoretically be frightening. At the end of the game, it’s not Leon and Ashley sitting in silence as they contemplate their harrowing and traumatic experience, it’s “Mission accomplished, right Leon?! Please have sex with me!” and then they literally ride off into the sunset on a jet ski.

At first I thought they were aiming to turn a beloved survival horror series into a big dumb action movie, which is partly true, but then I realized what they had really made: an amusement park. It’s divided into themed zones, like an amusement park: there’s a spooky village, a deathtrap castle, a haunted manor, slimy sewers, an underground tomb, a Mad Max island. There are little coaster cars with purple velvet seats that carry you through the castle, there’s a mine cart ride, living suits of armor, there’s literally a giant animatronic statue of Salazar you can climb around on, there are trinkets and treasures everywhere and a merchant always magically appearing to sell you new toys to make sure you don’t ever get bored or think too hard, there’s a lava-filled carousel room with fire-breathing dragon statues, a haunted house section, a shooting gallery, a cave full of monster bugs, a hedge maze, a tower of terror where flaming barrels are rolled down the stairs(and then you get to pull the lever to roll them!), there’s a crane game, an evil villain lair with a deadly laser corridor, there is for some reason a subterranean battle maze in a cage suspended over a chasm, and your whole visit to this horror themed wonder park culminates in a jet ski ride through a collapsing cavern.

I find it baffling, but "a masterpiece", "the best Resident Evil game", and “one of the best video games ever made” are actual ways I have seen this game described. Multiple reviewers called it the best of the series, and people continue to call it that. Gone is the tense, atmospheric, resource management based survival horror gameplay, the harmonious balance of puzzles, survival and action that made this series so beloved. It’s replaced with a theme park of homogenous action gameplay and an incredibly stupid story. In my mind, it’s not Resident Evil at all, and may as well have belonged to an entirely new series that’s continued in RE5 and RE6. Another oft repeated bit of unquestioned conventional wisdom about RE4 is that it “saved the series from itself,” which is strange given that it marked the beginning of a slump that lasted over a decade. But, who knows? Maybe Resident Evil had to undergo this kind of transformation and decline to ultimately produce the four most recent Resident Evil games, all among the best of the survival horror genre. If these bad mid series games had to come first in order for the latest four exceptional games to come later, then I’ll gladly suffer their existence.

-Monster Review Corner-

Another thing I actually like about this game is a lot of the creature design work. The Mendez boss fight feels like a Resident Evil fight, and his insect-like true form looks like a classic Resident Evil BOW. Verdugo and U-3, likewise, feel like classically inhuman RE creatures, and they’d be right at home in a survival horror series entry. Regenerators and Iron Maidens are genuinely terrifying creatures – or they would be in a survival horror game. Here, they’re just another enemy to mop up. The Plagas that burst out of enemies are a shock when they first appear, and look like horrifying hybrids of The Thing and facehuggers. The chainsaw men are initially one of the best and most horror-centric additions to the game, that is, until you get powerful enough to trivialize them and they stop appearing. At least in the first two hours, they’re legitimately scary due to your narrow field of view and the fact that they one shot you. But it seems like with each thing this game may have done right, there comes something that it did very wrong. Toward the end of the game, you start fighting stuff like the zombies with huge gatling guns, and it’s very dumb. I hate these military zombies, I really do.

Overall monster score: 6/10

Overall monster score minus the merc zombies and dumb robed cultists: 9/10

Time to complete: 11:28

By around the 8 or 9 hour mark, I was practically begging for this game to end.

Resident Evil 5 (2009)

When I started this, I thought I'd like RE4 more than RE5, but it turns out 5 is a much better game. It's a big dumb action movie, but it's a much better big dumb action movie than RE4, or RE6. The action is better, the graphics and art direction are better, the controls are better, the story, characters and dialogue are all better. It's too bad they just couldn't let go of the QTEs. It's a very good Capcom action game, but again, not a great Resident Evil game. It's much more confident as an action game than RE4, and almost entirely stops pretending its gameplay is about anything other than action, to its benefit. The combat is faster and more responsive, but still feels slower and more methodical than most action games. It’s just overall a significantly improved action game.

RE5 Chris is so much better than RE4 Leon. Chris and Sheva are a likable duo who feel like a typical RE pair and play off of each other well. The dialogue likewise has much more natural localization than most if not all previous games in the series. I don't really like how they gave Jill and Wesker Kojima character designs, and this bad aesthetic continues in RE Rev.

The files unlocked in the menu are actually kinda good, and this game expands and fills out the setting in some interesting ways, setting the stage for the Revelations games and RE6.

If you read the files, you learn what happened to Umbrella and how they shut down. What's nice is that the files and in-game story actually go into the ramifications of a world where BOWs exist and can be sold to people with various agendas. It's a world of corporations, NGOs, political subterfuge, and black market dealers making profit off of human suffering, where a whole international organization was created to handle bioweapon incidents. It's disappointing that with this backdrop, the game's actual story is ultimately reduced to a battle in a volcano to save the world from a supervillain. It's a very comic book conclusion.

I know they're infected with a monster virus, but the visual of black people as writhing, animalistic subhumans is, uh... problematic, to say the least. Also, the image of Africa The Continent as a land of dead goats, megaphone-shouting lunatics and rabid, violent crowds. Also the scene early on where some brown savages are carrying off a scantily clad white woman. At least she turns into a tentacle monster shortly after instead of being rescued. It's hard to deny that they probably chose part of Africa as RE5's setting due to the misconception of the entire continent being a war-torn land of petty dictators.

Some parts of the game are much better than others. Generally, the early game is good. The ancient city level is... pretty bad. And it culminates in a laser mirror puzzle that some version of would feel at home in an older RE, but here feels out of place and rhythm-disrupting. I wouldn't necessarily say the game gets really bad toward the end, except for the two consecutive Wesker boss fights. The boss fights against Wesker are both bad and pretty dull. You don't really want your climactic final battle against a longtime series villain to be so boring. I imagine it's a bit less long and dull with another player, like everything in the game. I've played this game in co-op and alone, and you're really missing something by not playing co-op. Sheva's AI can be very frustrating and many parts are clearly designed for two human brains. Overall, RE5 ends pretty fast, and wears out its welcome less than RE4. The biggest problem with RE4, 5 and 6 is that they totally lose the spirit of survival horror. Because of that, I don’t have much to say about the gameplay of RE5 other than it’s a pretty decent action game. If you’ve played an action game, you’ve seen this kind of game design before, and it’s just not all that interesting.

Neither of the D LCs missions are especially good or interesting, but I want to mention them because they do show the beginnings of Capcom experimenting with the episodic formula that they'd continue with Revelations, Revelations 2 and RE6.

Lost in Nightmares sees Jill and Chris exploring Ozwell Spencer's sprawling mansion, and is meant to be a throwback to the old style of RE. Unfortunately it doesn't have the spark that made those old games good, probably because it was designed by the RE5 team. It mostly ends up just being an extended and unnecessary reference to the classic games.

Desperate Escape is essentially just another level of RE5, but you play as Jill. Since RE5 already exists and is a fine length, this doesn't really need to exist.

Time to complete: 9:17

Resident Evil: Revelations (2012)

It's very rough around the edges, far from the production value you'd expect from the series, and definitely not something I'd call exceptional, but there are some good things going on. It definitely does feel more like RE than 4 or 5, but still only kinda feels like survival horror. It would be no great loss if this game didn't exist, but it's an interesting experiment.

This game was originally made for 3DS, and it feels very inconsistent, in a way you'd kind of expect a spinoff game made for a handheld console to be. It’s split up into episodes that usually take around half an hour, and have you switching between characters, and the short length was meant to be tailored to a handheld experience. Usually each chapter starts with a sort of interlude related to the main story where you play as other characters in another location, then it switches back to Jill exploring the main ship the game takes place on. The bite sized nature of the episodes makes it feel easy to keep playing. Some parts of the game are very fun and flow well, and other parts are just dull or frustrating. The game feels like a confused mix of survival horror and RE5 style action, and between that and the constant character swapping and hit-or-miss dialogue, it feels like a game that’s not very sure of what it wants to be. The bulk of the game where you’re playing as Jill aboard the Queen Zenobia, a BOW infested ship adrift at sea, tends to be the strongest part of the game, and it’s a great setting that’s perhaps underwhelming due to the graphical capabilities of the 3DS. You end up in a similar setting near the end of RE7, also directed by Koushi Nakanishi, and it looks a lot better there, and does justice to the concept better. Like so many things in Revelations, it was a good idea, but a bit underwhelming in its execution. This period of Resident Evil was definitely a time of trying out new directions for the series. Revelations, RE6, and another spin off I didn’t play called Operation Raccoon City were all released in 2012. RE6 is bad, Revelations is okay, and by all accounts Operation Raccoon City is not all that good. After a year like this, it makes sense Capcom went back to the drawing board.

The writing in Revelations is not great, and is sometimes suddenly better or worse, but I appreciate what they were going for with the rapport between characters. I also feel like this game messes up that classic survival horror feel of exploring an intimidating place alone. You're always with a partner and always switching perspectives, so it never feels like you're alone, and because of that switching you never even really feel like you're isolated from the outside world on the Zenobia. It feels more like a TV show storytelling technique than something that works well for survival horror. Part of what makes survival horror work is that atmosphere created by feeling isolated and vulnerable, and it doesn't really work when the game is always cutting away between chapters to show what so-and-so is doing elsewhere.

Most of the characters get Kojima style designs, which I'm really not a fan of. Previous RE character designs were always very grounded without being too boring, and included classics like Jill's beret look, Jill's blue tube top look, Claire's magenta shorts look, and Ada's red dress look. I’m really not a fan of the skintight suit covered in tubes, straps and gadgets style of character design. It feels very “anime Rob Liefield.”

I appreciate what they wanted to do by telling a story in multiple perspectives, and how they did it to suit a handheld game, but at the same time I feel like it disrupts the flow of exploration and the atmosphere of survival horror. Revelations 2 does a significantly better job of telling a story in different perspectives. Revelations was pretty fun to play, and had some decent ideas, but it’s nothing I’ll ever return to. It would be remiss of me not to mention my favorite bad dialogue of the game, so here are all of the best lines:

"Sorry, I don't date cannibal monsters."

"Me and my sweet ass are on the way!"

“Jill, where are you?”

"I dunno. A room, I think."

"These terrorists must be brought to justice... blast it!"

-Monster Review Corner-

They went for an “under the sea” aesthetic for the monsters in this game, so almost every monster is a variation of a bloated pale humanoid. It does have guys that are like walking mutant sharks with arms that are swords and shields, which I’m not going to pretend isn’t sick, but they really, really don’t fit in a Resident Evil game. Oops, wrong game, these guys were supposed to go to Etrian Odyssey. The only kinda cool RE monster is the one that’s like a nightmare mermaid with spiny abdomen teeth. Overall monster score: 4/10

Time to complete: 5:12

Random fact: this was the first RE game where you could move while shooting.

Resident Evil 6 (2012)

I’m not going to have much to say about this one. RE6 is bad in many of the same ways the Tomb Raider reboot trilogy is. Abandoning almost everything that gives the series its unique identity in favor of trying to make a game that will sell a lot of copies. Obsessed with QTEs and explosive, loud set pieces, and resentful of player agency. "No no, silly player, look over here. Move at this speed. Go this way. We know best. Now that's entertainment!" It's a game that desperately wants to entertain and impress, dragging you by the wrist through loud, brash, guns-blazing action campaigns that totally miss the point of both horror and Resident Evil. Most of the time it just feels like an arcade shooter, and you're expected to stick to the script so closely that it may as well be a rail shooter. It really does take away everything that makes survival horror special: it doesn’t have a slow pace, it’s not about exploration, you don’t feel vulnerable or isolated, there’s no sense of map knowledge or pathfinding, it has overwrought combat mechanics, there’s pretty much no quiet time, the atmosphere is more goofy than scary, and it takes forever to finish. Sometimes it feels like this game really wanted to be Left 4 Dead 2: the way campaigns are set up like movies, the special zombie types, the co-op play, the sprawling levels. Except the devs seemed to have no clue as to what actually makes Left 4 Dead fun. The producer said the idea behind RE6 was to create the “ultimate horror entertainment,” which perfectly explains why it feels so much like a bad movie you’re being forced to sit through. It’s bombastic and stupid like a Fast and Furious movie, but doesn’t even have the idiot charm of one of those movies. Resident Evil 6 is a long, forgettable and stupid third-person action game that doesn't even have the common decency to be fun.

Time to complete: Who knows. I'd finish this game if someone was paying me to, but they're not. People say it takes over 20 hours, which sounds unbearable.

Resident Evil: Revelations 2

Finally some good fucking Resident Evil. I was actually kind of surprised by how good this game was, something the mediocre Revelations didn't prepare me for. It's a very welcome return to a more survival horror style of gameplay. From the start, it's dark, lonely and atmospheric. You do always have a companion, but it's still mostly very good at capturing that survival horror isolation feeling.

It does have a few holdovers from RE6, most notably sprinting, skills and dodging, but it's the same style of dodge as RE3R, which doesn't feel totally out of place in a survival horror game, rather than the over the top rolls and dives of RE6. It doesn't have any of the dumb combat moves or the pointless stamina gauge or the action movie bombast. Skills are mostly passive and have only a very slight effect on gameplay. To me, this is a good thing, but it also means there may as well be no skills at all. It feels like something that’s needlessly tacked on, as though they wanted to convince a certain subset of their potential audience that it’s not just a classic survival horror experience, or perhaps they were trying to make it feel more modern, or extend replay value, or all of the above. In any case, it doesn’t need to be there and I’m glad it has little effect.

The game has a good deal of combat, but combat is simple enough to fit into a survival horror game. It would have been fine with less, but it's still fine, because it actually has things outside of combat, unlike 4-6, and lets you play, explore, and figure things out without a lot of overbearing guidance. A lot of the puzzles and navigation feel like classic RE, and it’s a great return to form in that regard. Sometimes it has a bit too much combat for my taste, but this is made up for by long stretches with few or no enemies, and it has those survival horror moments of exploration and puzzle solving to balance things out.

This game does AI companions right, for the first time in the series. Moira and Natalia are both really useful, and I found myself wanting to switch to them almost as often as I wanted to play Claire and Barry. You also don't really need to babysit them because it's pretty hard for them to die and they’re good at following behind. There are multiple good segments of the game where your characters separate, and Claire or Barry need to cover their partner while they traverse a room to gain access to the next area. Unlike in RE5, though, you’re not required to have a second player to have fun during these parts, and I don’t think it’s even possible to play the game co-op. At first glance this seems like a missed opportunity, but honestly, if someone had to play either of the secondary characters full time, it would get boring very quickly. I think it was a necessary sacrifice to make the two character system work well in a single player experience. I really don’t mind, since I think of survival horror as a single player genre. As a result, it lacks both the painfully slow character switching of RE0 and the painfully stupid AI of RE5.

It’s funny that just as in RE5, Rev 2 ends in two consecutive Wesker boss fights, but this time against Alex Wesker rather than Albert. Also, these Wesker boss fights are much better. The final boss makes use of the character swapping, and actually does it really well. Barry is running from mutant Alex through cliffside caves, and you switch between him and Claire, who’s in a helicopter with a sniper rifle. It’s very much a Resident Evil fight, in that it’s more about positioning and survival than it is about fast shooting or burning the boss down with damage.

I also actually think this game has a good story for the series, but mostly what makes it stand out is the characters themselves. I also really appreciate the callbacks to previous games. It refers back to things from RE1, Code Veronica, Revelations, and RE5. Alex Wesker, who I think previously only existed in lore notes, is the villain, and the Uroboros virus of RE5 plays a small role. It makes nods to the larger mythos without being so convoluted that someone who doesn’t know everything about every game would have trouble following. The central story is easy to follow: you’re trapped on an unknown mastermind’s monster infested deathtrap island, infected with a virus that causes you to turn into a disgusting, mindless monster if your level of fear gets too high. I love their choices of Claire and Barry as the main characters. Claire being a beloved series staple, and Barry being an unexpected but surprisingly great choice. I also love how you play in two different timelines, Claire and Moira on the island six months before, and Barry and Natalia searching for them in the present. You travel through a lot of the same areas, but fight different enemies, take different paths and solve different puzzles. Rev 2 also has the most naturalistic character dialogue and acting the series has seen thus far. It feels like the rapport they were going for in Rev 1, but done better, and both pairs of player characters play off of each other well. I like that Claire takes a matter-of-fact, seen it all before approach to the situation, because she’s been through two different self-contained zombie apocalypses, while Moira the teenager is always cursing and yelling and basically saying “what the fuck,” and she really acts like I think a teenager might in such a situation. Barry, the dumpy old dude with dad jokes who came prepared with his dorky backpack and cargo pants, and the fearless 10-year-old girl Natalia, also go together well. By the end, I found myself actually caring about what happened to these characters.

Between Rev 2's gameplay, dialogue, and visual style, it's easy to see how it paved the way for the third-person RE2 and RE3 remakes. It was a very good move for the series, and I'm surprised it's not mentioned more often. Despite being a sequel to a spin-off, it was at the time better at being Resident Evil than anything since REmake, which came out thirteen years prior. It has its highs and lows, but it’s a big step in the right direction, and a good survival horror game. It’s not quite the same quality of RE7, RE2R or RE3R, but I really liked Revelations 2.

-Monster Review Corner-

Honestly, the monster designs are one of the weakest parts of Rev 2. The principal zombie-likes are just these kind of blobby, gross dudes who run at you, sometimes while holding wrenches or other makeshift weapons. Most of the enemies follow the same pattern, kinda blobby humanoids that look like bloated corpses or conglomerations of body parts, and I find it pretty dull. There are also some generic RE dogs that for some reason have pig heads. I never hold zombie dogs against a Resident Evil game, because you can’t have a Resident Evil without evil dogs. I don’t make the rules. As you progress you just get bigger, meaner blobby corpse guys with different abilities. There are only really two exceptions that I find less boring than the rest: Glasps, and Alex Wesker’s monstrous forms. Glasps are invisible, bloated flying insectoids that instantly kill you if they catch you. In order to kill them, you need to switch to Natalia, who can sense them and point them out, then switch back to Barry to take your shot. They cause this weird vision effect when they’re near, implying that their invisibility is something they’re doing to your mind, which to me feels less out of place than physical invisibility. If you had asked me before if I thought an invisible enemy was suited to RE, I would’ve said no, but Glasps feel like a creature out of a STALKER game, and I like it. Alex's final form is classic RE, like the Tyrant or G-Mutation designs, but with more of a disfigured crone vibe. Her unnaturally long spiky spine and humanoid limbs give her a creepy marionette feel. The heavily mutated humanoids, like Nemesis, tend to be among the best RE monster designs. Before she injects herself with Uroboros and transforms, she looks like an ancient haglike being with the air of a hunched vulture, with tubes and staples and half her face peeled off, a victim of her own T-Phobos virus.

Time to complete: 7:45

A practically perfect length. It feels like a long and satisfying experience that's paced well and wastes very little of your time.

Resident Evil 7: Biohazard (2017)

I actually played this game in early 2019, before I ever conceived of this journey through the series, and I was as surprised as anyone at Resident Evil 7 being a good game. An oft repeated sentiment among RE fans who dislike RE7 is "it's not Resident Evil." In my mind, that's a very strange thing to say, since it borrows almost all of its design principles from the classic trilogy. I think the negativity some people feel towards this game is a knee-jerk reaction to the first person perspective. I've learned that like any fandom, Resident Evil's is full of idiots who just kind of say things, and barely make any attempt to understand the thing they like so much. (Not to say everyone who's an RE fan is an idiot. People like Suzi the Sphere Hunter and Critique Quest on YouTube have plenty of insightful things to say. Your average video game comment leaver or redditor is just a "whoa, cool videogame" meme). RE7 brings back so many things from classic RE: a slow methodical pace, save rooms, a classic style map, limited inventory space, item boxes, emblem keys, limited ammo and healing, a small array of weapons, a relatively small number of enemies, a creepy isolated mansion, a lone protagonist, survival horror puzzles, a focus on exploring in order to escape, item-base progression, simple mechanics, a feeling of vulnerability, environmental storytelling, a relatively simple story, a harmonious balance of all these elements, and a short game length. Even the character switch at one point near the end of the game is classic RE. The design philosophy applied to RE7 is classic survival horror, through and through. This is so much the case that I noticed myself playing in a similar way to the classic era games. Checking my map to carefully plan the safest, most optimal route. Managing inventory for the least amount of backtracking. Making sure I checked every room as thoroughly as possible for useful items. Slowly making my way through a small but interconnected and well designed map. Feeling that sense of tension every time I opened an unfamiliar door. Getting absorbed in the atmosphere and taking my time. It's weird to say playing a horror game feels comforting, or cozy, but RE7 does, in a way. All of this isn't to say it feels just like playing the old games. It's a reinvention, rather than a re-creation, and I think that was the right route to take.

RE7 is the first game to use Capcom's RE Engine, and it looks extremely good, especially its lighting. The one thing that doesn't look exceptional is the models for people and their movements and expressions. People move and make facial expressions in that weird video game way that never looks natural, and it's kind of impressive how far Capcom has come since 2017 in that department. This is greatly improved in the 2 & 3 remakes, which also both use the RE Engine. The first thing I noticed while replaying this game is how incredibly detailed everything is, including the sound design. You hear your character's slightly hesitant breath, his footsteps, the creaks and groans of an old house, and other muffled sounds that can't possibly be attributed to a house's age. All of the visual details let you imagine how every part of the Baker farm slowly fell into disrepair, the toll that multiple floods took on the place, and the gradual disintegration of a family's sanity and normalcy reflected in the physical dilapidation of the house. Like the Spencer mansion in 1996, the Baker property is as much a character as it is a setting. The return to a seemingly abandoned, sprawling house as a setting really helps establish that this is a return to form, a return to slow, creeping horror. The house is a shadowy urbex nightmare of abandoned spaces and black mold. The washed up tanker and the mines you explore in the game's final stretch aren't nearly as memorable or characterful as the house. RE7 succeeds in actually being scary more than most Resident Evil games. It's very good at being a horror game, but has all of the survival horror gameplay that makes the genre so satisfying.

The RE7 team wisely created a new narrative that’s almost entirely disconnected from the convoluted mythos the series has been building on since Code Veronica, but used the ending to leave the narrative open to that connection to the larger story. This, combined with the first person perspective, makes the game feel more intimate and more focused, which really works for it. It's really more a story about the house and its inhabitants, about Eveline, Mia, Zoe and the Baker family than it is about its protagonist, Ethan Winters. In my opinion, he's one of the weaker parts of the game. This series isn’t exactly renowned for its brilliant character writing, but he’s just kinda there, like American cheese. At least characters like Jill, Carlos, Ada, Claire, Chris, Sheva, Barry and Wesker are likeable and/or memorable in a video game character kinda way. Ethan feels intentionally designed to be the most unremarkable mid-30s white dude you could think of, almost like he's meant for a target audience, and he drags an excellent game down a little bit. Even Nemesis, the monster whose only line is "STAAAARRSs," is more memorable. They can really do better. So while I’m very excited to see what they do with RE8 after the quality of the last three games, I was disappointed to learn I’d still be playing as Ethan. I'm hoping they'll figure out a way to make him less lame. The other thing is, almost every RE protagonist is a member of S.T.A.R.S. or the BSAA, or someone who knows how to shoot a gun, so they at least have some explanation for how good they are at handling these situations. Ethan is literally just some guy who goes into a swamp to find his wife.

RE7 is at heart an amalgamation of a bunch of horror tropes and references, even references to the series itself, and yet it feels more like a loving homage to horror than a hackneyed rehash. Meet the family from Texas Chainsaw Massacre as you explore the mansion from Resident Evil/The People Under the Stairs and evade your wife who’s now a deadite from Evil Dead, meet the gross body horror man from From Beyond, shambling swamp monsters, an evil witch grandma, and the little girl from F.E.A.R. You also solve a puzzle from Saw in a serial killer’s murder maze. It's all bundled together and interwoven so well that it feels like something fresh and unique rather than horror's greatest hits.

Time to complete: 7:40

Like all of the best survival horror games, it ends right before it starts wearing out its welcome. The short length keeps any of its ideas from getting stale.

-Monster Review Corner-

There really aren't that many different kinds of monsters in this game, which I'm fine with. The principle zombie-likes of this game are slimy black sinewy humanoids called molded. Eveline, the bioweapon in the form of a little girl, is the cause behind everything bad that happened to the house and family, and she creates a black mold which infects those she wants to control, and which molded are made of. A lot of people think they're boring enemies, but personally I think they're perfectly suited to the setting of a dilapidated, water-damaged house that's being slowly reclaimed by the surrounding wilderness. The first enemy you actually encounter in this game is your wife Mia, who switches between normal Mia and evil deadite Mia. She also chops your hand off with a chainsaw, which is pretty fun. Jack is the Nemesis of RE7's early game. He's an unnaturally pallid middle-aged man who stalks you and has regenerative abilities which are later revealed to be... extensive. As you explore the house in the early game, you're always on edge because you know he could be lurking anywhere. In his later boss form, he's a bulging body horror monstrosity. Marguerite is another enemy who stalks you through the boat house with a creepy lantern. She creates bugs that attack you, so she's like a nasty bug crone. As a boss she employs hit and run tactics, lurking in the dark waiting for you, so slow and careful is the best way to fight her. Eveline is just the little girl from FEAR. No two ways about it. I'm honestly not a big fan of her, just because I kind of hate the creepy little kid horror trope.

Side note: I think this is the first game in the whole series without evil dogs.

Overall monster score: 7/10

Resident Evil 2 (2019)

To my taste, Resident Evil 2 remake might be the most ideal incarnation of Resident Evil that exists. It has everything that makes survival horror great, and it’s all implemented extremely well. Combine this with the gorgeous graphics and chilling atmosphere and you have a practically perfect survival horror game. It feels like the culmination of everything that worked in the series over the years, with the visual fidelity to do it justice. It’s a good remake because it does more than just faithfully recreate the original – it takes the best ideas from across the series. It has the methodical pace of classic survival horror, the backtracking and slow unlocking of new areas, the shadowy, eerie atmosphere of REmake, the highly detailed graphics and sound design of RE7, the item combining of RE3, Revelations 2 and RE7, the close over-the-shoulder view of RE4 and beyond, which notably feels like Rev 2. I’ve talked about how survival horror is a balance of things, and in that sense, RE2R is superbly balanced. Visually, it’s so detailed and nails the atmosphere so perfectly that it makes you want to move slowly just because it feels like you should. Moving forward feels foreboding. The way zombies look and move is scary, and lickers are terrifying. Narratively, it’s the same story but told better, and characters are much more human and believable than the original. Leon is just a regular dude, not the regular shithead he became in RE4 and RE6, and Claire is a great character. The Raccoon City police station is the strongest setting of the game, it’s all shadowed corridors, bloodstained walls and shattered windows. You really get the sense of it being a building that was formerly used as a museum, and the barricaded doors and aftermath of carnage everywhere help you imagine what happened as people fought for their lives, and lost, before you arrived. The sound design is extremely well done and detailed, which I never noticed until I played with headphones. (I wish I had paid more attention to sound design on this series playthrough. It can be an important part of survival horror). Gameplay is no slouch, either. Patient, precise shooting and tactical retreats pay off, and inventory management remains an integral part of progressing through the game. You eventually have much more inventory space than in the classic games, but it still never really feels like too much until right near the end of the game. Puzzles and item usage feel just how they should in survival horror. The Sherry and Ada portions, in Claire and Leon’s campaigns respectively, are both a nice change of pace and they’re short enough that they don’t wear out their welcome.

Strangely, I don’t feel like I have much to say about this game, just because it so well embodies everything I’ve already cited as being good about survival horror. The police station especially is exceptional, in terms of atmosphere, map design, the layout of enemy encounters, methodical play, and balance. It’s very light on anything resembling fast paced action, and I love that. All in all, I think this is the most well-rounded and well-made Resident Evil game to date. It would be a great place to start the series, and a great way to show someone everything good about the genre.

Time to complete:

First run, Leon A: 7:49

Second run, Claire A: 6:39

Resident Evil 3 (2020)

Here are the common criticisms people have of this game, and why they’re wrong:

“It’s bad because they cut content from the original.”

First of all, these two are both excellent games, but they’re different enough to be completely separate games. Even the maps and the paths you travel through the game are totally different. Sure, it would be fun to see a clock tower area in the style of the remakes, but I’m not going to hold nonexistent content against a game, especially one that’s this good. If you want to relive RE3, it still exists. No one seemed to complain about how different RE2R is.

“It’s too short.”

It’s pretty much the same length as RE3, and it’s a fine length for a survival horror game. I like that the game is fast paced and concise, and this captures the spirit of classic survival horror. In this day and age I find short games refreshing, and brevity is a mark in a game’s favor rather than a mark against it. Also, when a game is short, I’m a million times more likely to want to replay it in the future. Case in point, this was the second time I played this game. If it took 20 hours, if it even took 10 hours, it would run too long.

“It’s an action game, not survival horror.”

It’s more of an action game than RE2R, but even that is up for debate. I feel like throughout a lot of the game, you’re really not doing more shooting than you do in RE2R, and Jill isn’t really any more heavily armed than Leon or Claire end up being in that game. There are more boss fights, and more explosions, though, and by the end of the game you have a ton of ammo and resources, but they generally give you tons of stuff at the end of these games. I mentioned that original RE3 felt more like an action movie than the previous two games, and the remake is a lot better at being an action movie. It has a breakneck start where you’re almost immediately in a fight for your life against Nemesis as he bursts through the wall of Jill’s apartment and chases you through the streets, which culminates in the player ramming him off of a parking garage with a car. I’m normally not a big fan of explosive set pieces in games, but this one is really good and is great at setting the tone for the rest of the game. Just like the original, it’s more action oriented, but it’s just much better at action than the original RE3. I really wouldn’t classify it as an action game, like a lot of people seem to. Its pedigree and presentation are thoroughly survival horror, in my mind. Inventory management is an integral part of the game and most of the game has that slow survival horror gameplay. One thing I like less about this game than RE2R is that it has fewer puzzles. It’s not like it doesn’t have any, but they take a backseat, which is why I’d call it more action-oriented survival horror.

“Nemesis doesn’t show up often enough.”

I really don’t know where this comes from, because I feel like if he showed up any more often than he already does it would get irritating and redundant. There are literally four separate boss fights against him, and multiple parts where he chases Jill around. How much more do you need in a five and a half hour game?

Now that that’s cleared up, on to other things.

The Resident Evil 2 Remake has a lot of noticeable similarities to the original version, but Resident Evil 3 Remake is basically a completely different game, and I honestly think that’s a good thing. Somehow, when you play the original RE3 in 2020, it feels more dated than RE2, and I thought RE2 was a better game.

Back on the topic of action: this game does a thing video games do I don’t usually like, which is when the main character is often seen falling off of exploding things and staggering through corridors and burning buildings and thrown against cars and so on and so forth. Here, I don’t really mind it though, maybe because it’s not a long game and these parts take up little of its play time. It also makes the fight against Nemesis feel more immediate and tangible. It does often feel like playing an action movie, but it’s Terminator 2, not Michael Bay. Also, the bad Nemesis boss fights of the original are replaced with actually good boss fights.

One thing I really like about RE3R is the way characters are presented. Jill and Carlos both feel like more relatable, human characters, with actual personalities, and this makes you much more invested in their fight to escape the city. They end up being two of my favorite versions of RE characters, and I hope we see them in future games, though I find that kind of unlikely. Resident Evil is really not great when it comes to consistency in characters. It’s a shame because I’d love to see a direct sequel with this version of Jill and Carlos. Apart from these two, even the rest of the cast are given a lot more character and feel human.

The Carlos segment of the game in the hospital is much more atmospheric and interesting than the original’s Carlos section, and this one ends with a siege style fight much like the cabin fight of RE4. On the topic of RE4, this game has a document explaining that Nemesis was created by implanting some kind of parasite into a Tyrant, and the author of the document berates Umbrella for going the route of parasites due to their unpredictability. You also fight a few zombies in the game who were infected by Nemesis and grow alien-looking parasites on their heads. It can be assumed that this is tying the lore of these games in with the Las Plagas parasites of RE4 and RE5 and paving the way for the RE4 Remake. I think this is neat, even though I wish they wouldn’t remake RE4 on account of it being garbage.

All in all, I really like this game, and it’s one of my favorites of 2020. It’s a very good survival horror game with tons of detail and character that can be finished in two or three sittings. I have pretty much no complaints about it other than the aforementioned lack of puzzles. It’s more fast paced survival horror, but it’s very good in it’s own right.

Time to complete: 4:36 (2nd playthrough)

I don’t know the exact time of my first playthrough, but my old save file that’s right before the final boss was at 5:52.

Final Thoughts

I feel like after playing all of these games, it should be asked: is the story of Resident Evil any good? The answer to that is… kinda, sometimes? But also no, not really? It’s often entertaining, scary, gory, tense and atmospheric in the way that a good horror movie is. It’s also a little silly, often in a charming way, like how you can always tell at any given moment that this setting is a Japanese interpretation of America. The story itself goes well off the rails by the time you reach RE4. I mean, you’re rescuing the president’s daughter from evil zombie villagers and space alien tentacle monsters and cultists and ogres and then the zombies get body armor and guns. (Let's just not ever talk about the story of Code Veronica.) But the story isn’t really the point, is it? I think the series is vastly improved because there is a narrative, and it just wouldn't be the same without it, but you won’t find anything too deep or meaningful in that narrative. The one saving grace is that a defining feature of the story is ultimately the fact that corporations and governments are evil and only care about profit, to the extent of sacrificing hundreds of people in multiple biological weaponry incidents. That aspect at least feels true to life, especially in the midst of a pandemic that neither our government, nor the extremely powerful corporations that exercise control over that government, are doing anything about. Umbrella is an international corporation that no one dares or bothers to oppose who maintains their own paramilitary force, has their own private prisons and research sites, and has their hands in every part of the government and infrastructure of Raccoon City and who knows how many other cities. The villain is always ultimately the unchecked corporation - even in RE7, the nightmare family that seems disconnected from the outside world is ultimately revealed by in-game documents to be directly linked to corporate experimentation.

In Revelations 2, as well as the new 2 & 3 remakes, the characters are at least likable and there’s nothing incredibly dumb like you’ll find in RE 4, 5 or 6. Some would cite the part at the end of RE3R where Jill uses a humongous railgun called the FINGeR (Ferromagnetic Infantry-use Next Generation Railgun) to kill the final form of Nemesis as something dumb, but they are wrong. The characters of RE2R, RE3R and Revelations 2 are likeable and human, so they seem to at least be going in the right direction in that regard. The storytelling of RE7, RE2R and RE3R returns to the more grounded approach of the original trilogy, which is a good thing, and I think a good sign for the future of the series and its setting.

There’s something I’ve noticed about RE games, which might just boil down to my own personal preferences. In pretty much every game, you end up in an entirely new location in the final act of the game, and that last part is never as good as the rest. In RE2R, you spend most of the game in the police station, then go to the sewers (and the orphanage if you’re playing as Claire). For the last stretch of the game you end up at NEST, Umbrella’s secret underground lab, and this part is weaker than the rest. Likewise, the ship and mines areas in RE7 are weaker than the majority of the game, the lab in RE3 and its remake, the lab in REmake, even the last section of RE5. This isn’t to say these parts are necessarily bad, just that they tend to be worse than the rest. At the same time, I think they’re necessary changes of pace and locale. I think there are two reasons for this: one, the first locations of RE games tend to be very strong settings with lots of character, and two, it’s an an example of a problem all horror fiction faces, which is that the more you ramp up tension, the harder it gets to do it in believable and interesting ways. If horror goes on too long, situations become predictable and it loses its bite, and survival horror games are no exception. Ramping up tension and action necessarily compromises the things that initially make horror enjoyable, like slow and eerie pacing, the danger of an unknown threat, the vulnerability of character or player, and the slow unraveling of mysterious and fatal circumstances. At the same time, horror needs a final act, needs some kind of closure, otherwise the building of tension feels like it was for nothing and the story is unsatisfying. I have no idea what the solution to this is, except brevity, which good RE games are very good at.

I liked a few RE games already, but playing through them all really made me realize I like this series more than I previously thought, and I like survival horror a lot more than I thought. The really bad and long mid-series slump that lasted about thirteen years can’t be ignored, but I really like more than half of the games in the series. It created an entire genre with a devoted following, and I feel like RE2R brought the genre back into the limelight somewhat. You can see the influence of the genre even on games that aren’t really in the genre, like Prey, Gone Home, Bloodborne, and Left 4 Dead. I’m really looking forward to playing through my list of other survival horror games.

Things Resident Evil showed me that I love about survival horror:

-Slow paced, thoughtful gameplay. You’re rarely rushed, and action isn’t the focus. Generally there’s nothing dragging you along in a certain direction, forcing you to look at or interact with certain things. It’s up to you to figure out the way forward.

-An emphasis on exploration. This is tied in with the previous point. A lot of the fear and tension comes from not knowing what's through the next door or what will happen next, but knowing you have to explore to progress. These games have a lot of backtracking, a healthy sense of map knowledge and memory as a useful skill, and lots of item-based progression. As I mentioned in my note about puzzles before, the whole map feels like a puzzle to be solved.

-A feeling of vulnerability, reinforced by things like limited defense options, slow movement, scarcity of items, limited inventory space, and simple combat. This goes hand in hand with the sense of isolation usually found in survival horror games.

-Environmental storytelling. Setting details being revealed through documents, destruction, corpses, bloodstains, locales, and even puzzles.

-They aren’t defenseless walking sims. It's on you to survive. Having a way to respond to threats, but not feeling like you ever have quite enough, is much scarier than being defenseless. It's because it's a game - mechanically, you know a game isn't just going to give you no defenses, then throw you to the wolves. Survival horror acknowledges its framework of video game, its limitations and advantages. It gives more of a feeling of success or failure hinging on your decisions rather than on scripted events. The player feels like they have more agency, even if it's not always strictly the case.

-Making use of silence, something games aren't generally good at. This ties in with quiet time, something I wish more games were aware of. That is, times when the player is just quietly left to their own devices, exploring alone, solving puzzles, reading notes. You're not in danger 100% of the time, which gives the danger teeth.

-Simplicity of play, or accessibility. These games generally don’t contain any difficult mechanics or concepts that need to be explained, have little need for tutorials, and are easy to understand and play. Things like difficulty settings, auto aim, and the assist modes seen in RE2R and RE3R expand accessibility too. I think difficulty goes in this category too. Honestly, most survival horror games aren’t all that hard, because if you died all the time, you’d get bored and frustrated. Survival horror games seem to actually want you to have a good time. Imagine that.

-Mostly short playtime. A genre that's often good at not wasting your time. It’s very good for people without much time or people who like to actually be able to finish games and move on to other games, or replay games. It might sound weird, but also, sometimes I feel like really long games have something to hide under all that repetitive content.

-New weapons or abilities feel earned, because you generally go through a lot to get to them and they’re not handed out very often.

-A harmonious balance of elements. When a survival horror game is good, it elegantly combines all of the aforementioned traits.

RE Score Sheet

Endings where I flew away in a helicopter: 8 Crank or valve handles collected and turned: 16 Zombies or dogs or birds that burst through windows: 19 Object pushing puzzles: 14 Shaped indentations filled (including cogs): 71 Jump scares: 13 Puzzles where you configure shapes or valves or gears or numbers or lights a certain way: 18 Oversized animal types: 12 (Spider, Bee, Moth, Snake, Shark, Worm, Scorpion, Cockroach, Centipede, Bat, Salamander, A Different Bat) Rooms with monsters in tubes: 8 Gigantic mutant plants: 4 Times when it looked like a character died but they didn't really: 10 Secret subterranean labs: 10 Switches that change the water level: 5 Batteries/cables attached to things: 9 Clock towers: 4 Vaccines synthesized: 4 Self destruct sequences: 7 Helicopters shot down or otherwise destroyed right before they were used to escape: 6 Unique viruses: 9 (Progenitor Virus, T-Virus, G-Virus, T-Veronica Virus, Uroburos Virus, T-Abyss Virus, C-Virus, T-Phobos Virus, Mold Virus)

Resident Evil Tier List

Obligatory tier list disclaimer: tier lists are stupid and bad and fail to acknowledge the many nuances of things.

#resident evil #survival horror #game reviews #shinji mikami #koushi nakanishi #capcom #re #spooky season

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xxx-cat-xxx · 5 years

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Stairway to Heaven (almost)

Summary: When the Hulk breaks the elevators in Stark Tower, Peter and Tony have to climb to the top in order to repair them. 93 floors shouldn’t be an issue, Tony tells himself, and, in typical Stark-fashion, completely ignores his heart condition. Turns out that was a bad idea.

Tags: Heart issues, Fainting, Whump and humour and a tiny little bit of angst, Irondad, Pepper/Tony, Bruce&Tony

A/N: For @greeniebean2014, thank you for the prompt and for medical consultancy services ;) Major thanks to @whumphoarder for beta reading.

________________________

“What exactly is the Hulk’s problem with elevators?” Peter inquires when they cross the 19th floor of Stark Tower and start climbing another flight.

The boy is jumpy and impatient, but his breaths are even and, as far as Tony can see in the dim emergency light, there’s not even a hint of exhaustion on his face,. The engineer, on the other hand, is already starting to pant, his cheeks feeling flushed as he tries his best to keep pace with the kid.

“He’s just not a fan,” Tony huffs. “No idea why.”

That’s not true, strictly speaking, because Tony knows very well that it all started with a certain event in 2012, but thinking about that would mean thinking about what happened to New York on this particular day, and that - no, not now.

Tony’s always bragged that out of all the things he’s built, Stark tower is one of the coolest. Located in downtown Manhattan, with a fully wired artificial intelligence that’s adaptive to its inhabitants’ respective needs, containing a vertical garden, thirteen gyms, seven swimming pools, and labs that would make the AAAS go green with envy, it is certainly something to be proud of. Not to mention that it is the first of New York’s skyscrapers that’s exclusively running on green energy.

The tower is also very, very high. Not, as some journalists suggested gleefully, because it has to compensate for anything, but because Tony wouldn’t build a skyscraper with his name on it that wasn’t visible from the ocean. And why go for 50 floors when you can have 93? He wanted to see where to land when he comes back from business trips with his private jet, or, more recently, feel more than a bit smug when returning from a mission in his Iron Man suit and spotting the Avengers symbol shining high above New York.

Today is the first day he curses himself for each and every one of those 93 floors.

“At least he could have left the power supply alone,” Peter goes on. “I mean, Hulk is pretty dumb - don’t tell Dr. Banner I said that - but somehow he managed to destroy the entire system.”

“Yup,” Tony replies short-windedly.

Peter gives him a side glance. “Do you need a break?”

“Do I look like a pensioner to you?” Tony retorts in mock-offence. “I once crossed half of Tennessee in a snowstorm while dragging my own armour behind me. This little workout is nothing compared to that.”

“Okay, okay, I was just asking,” Peter appeases. “By the way, did I tell you about the new web-fluid formula that Ned came up with?”

The kid starts to ramble while they make their way towards Tony’s workshop on the 79th floor, where, in a moment of maybe not-so-genius, he has installed the controls they will need in order to get the arc reactor in the basement back online. The tower is protected against pretty much every imaginable outside threat (and even against most of the inside ones) but Bruce, of course, has access to almost every part of the building and Tony never thought that Hulk would be clever enough to disable all the security measures protecting the main power supply.

By the time they reach the 26th floor, Tony has started to pant for real, unable to conceal his breathlessness any further. When they cross 32, his chest starts to hurt with every step, and he thinks that maybe a break wouldn’t be that bad after all. But the kid next to him is still taking the steps two at a time, not even a bead of sweat on his brow. So Tony grits his teeth and tells himself that this means he can skip his exercise routine for the next couple of days.

At 35, Tony’s head is swimming and his fingers begin to go numb. There’s an irritating tingling sensation in his left arm and that’s when he knows that things are Not Great™. He makes it another two floors before the pain in his chest spikes and his vision blacks out completely for a moment before turning into a blur of colours. Tony’s foot catches on the next step. He stumbles and would have fallen if it hadn’t been for Peter’s quick reflexes.

“Whoa, Mr. Stark, are you okay?” the kid asks in panic while he lowers Tony down onto the floor.

Tony grunts and tries to get back up, just to realise that he can’t really differentiate up and down anymore. His own heartbeat is pounding loudly in his ears, pulsating in time with the stabbing pain in his chest and the pattern of black and grey in front of his eyes.

“Mr. Stark, what’s going on?” Peter’s voice is openly worried, his hand still holding tightly onto Tony’s arm.

“‘m okay,” Tony manages. “Jus’ give me a sec. Gotta take a breather.” He feels himself list to the side and is glad when his shoulder finds a wall he can lean against. Tony lowers his head onto his knees, fully aware of how stupid he must be looking, and waits for the symptoms to subside.

They don’t. Instead, his vision goes from fuzzy to spinning, the pain from bad to worse, and he is suddenly very nauseous. Tony swallows hard, determined to preserve his last bit of dignity and not throw up in front of the kid.

“Mr. Stark?” The kid addresses the ceiling when Tony doesn’t reply. “FRIDAY, what’s going on with him?” The AI doesn’t answer, of course, because the power is still out, which Tony could have told him if he had any intention of opening his mouth. He feels bile rise in his throat and gulps.

“Do you feel sick? Are you gonna puke?”

Tony manages a shrug. “Dunno,” he grunts out through gritted teeth.

He feels more likely to faint on the spot, but he isn’t going to tell this to the kid. Peter is saying something else and Tony thinks he can make out Pepper’s name, but the kid suddenly seems very far away. Everything has gone sort of slow and muffled. There’s another stab of agony in Tony’s chest, and he can’t suppress a groan. He’s used to pain, been in a lot of it, but this is definitely somewhere in the upper end of his tolerance scale.

Tony closes his eyes and tries not to stop breathing.

“Tony? Can you hear me?” He opens his eyes again and makes out a very blurry Pepper, her red hair shimmering like a halo behind her face.

“‘m okay,” he gasps, “’s just s-stupid heart -” He reaches for the staircase railing, determined to get back to his feet and pull himself together and -

That was a mistake. The pain in his chest spikes. Tony can feel his body fold into itself - can hear Peter and Pepper yelp in unison.

Then he passes out.

He wakes up to the steady beeping of a heart monitor and an entirely different kind of pain in his chest. Tony blinks himself awake and waits for his vision to clear while the faces of Pepper, Bruce, and Peter slowly swim into focus.

They are in the medbay. Bruce is wearing a mismatch of clothes and a worried look on his face, Peter has streaks of tears on his cheeks, and Pepper looks to be somewhere in between relieved and very, very angry.

“Hey, I’m back online,” Tony announces to no one in particular, then has to interrupt himself to cough against the dryness in his throat.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce hands him a glass of water, luckily with a straw in it because Tony doesn’t feel quite up to sitting just yet.

“Good, good. Guess I’m okay now,” he lies. “Why the long faces? You all look like Happy when he found out Downton Abbey wasn't getting another season.”

“That’s not funny,” Peter replies with a seriousness unusual for him.

“It is, actually,” Tony retorts. “For weeks I’ve been trying to get Pepper to take an evening off and have dinner with us, and turns out all it took to get you three into one room is - what is it that’s wrong with me? Feels like the Hulk danced on my chest.”

Bruce turns pale at the words and swallows hard before speaking. “You were in ventricular tachycardia, which means that your heart was beating in such a way that it wasn’t getting your blood to the rest of the body. We had to shock you back into sinus rhythm. Pepper performed CPR before we got you to the medbay. She, uhm, might have broken one or two of your ribs.”

Tony mimics a shocked expression. “Wow, Pep, I get that you’re pissed at me, but no need to get violent…” he trails off upon seeing Pepper’s stony face.

Bruce gives him a serious look. “Sorry to tell you, Tony, but it looks like you’re gonna need to get a pacemaker. As soon as possible, I think.”

Tony replies nothing.

“Tony?” he repeats.

“Yeah, I know,” Tony finally says without looking up.

“Wait, you know?!” Pepper’s voice is so shrill that he winces.

“I had an episode a couple of weeks ago and contacted a specialist,” Tony admits, weakly raising his hand to stop her from interrupting. “I’ve got a check-up appointment scheduled on Friday, and if everything goes well, I’d get the pacemaker before the end of the month. Nobody would’ve even realised. Just, maybe, shouldn’t have climbed forty stairs. Stupid elevator.”

There’s a break. Peter looks shell-shocked. Bruce is chewing his lower lip. Pepper Potts is actually speechless for once.

“I am so sorry,” Bruce starts, his cheeks going red. “I didn’t think I’d ever have an incident in the tower, I am really -”

“Bruce, stop,” Tony orders with as much strength as he can muster. “We talked about this. It’s not your fault that the Hulk has a personal grudge against elevators.”

“But if you knew that something’s wrong with your heart, then why did you even think of climbing 80 floors?” Peter speaks up. “I could have gone upstairs on my own!”

“See, advanced planning when it comes to my own health isn’t really...what I do,” Tony admits with a weak grin. “Sorry for scaring you, though. You shouldn’t have been there.”

“Oh, it’s actually a good thing that he was there,” Pepper replies with a sardonic smile on her face that makes Tony suspect something evil. “I couldn’t have carried you all the way to medbay.”

“You did what?” Tony glares at Peter. “Please tell me she’s joking.”

“Uhm…” The kid’s face takes on an even darker shade of red. “There wasn’t really anything else we could’ve done, I mean, with the electricity out and all that…”

“Oh god,” Tony buries his head in the pillow, “I think I’ll just pass out again. For the rest of the month, maybe. And then I’ll fire you, kid. After making you sign a confidentiality agreement.”

The kid looks actually intimidated for a second until Pepper gives Tony a stern look and says, “A thank you would be more appropriate here.”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks, kid.” Tony lifts his head up again to look at Peter. “I mean it. FRIDAY, for the record, interns with super strength are very useful. Should be added as a criterion for the application form on the SI website.”

Peter tries to hide a chuckle. “I’m glad I was there, Mr. Stark. But really, you should take better care of yourself.”

Tony, mature as ever, sticks out his tongue at him.

There is a moment of silence in which Pepper gives a confused Bruce a very pointed look, until he suddenly says, “Oh, Peter, what about a hot chocolate? You look like you could use one. And then you can give me a hand fixing the power supply…”

Peter is a bit quicker on the uptake. “Okay, Dr. Banner.” He almost trips over his feet while walking backwards out of the door. “See you later, Mr. Stark. And don’t try to get up yet.”

Bruce pushes himself to his feet with visible exhaustion and gives them a tired wave before disappearing out of the room.

“See,” Tony spills the moment the door has closed behind the two of them, “I would have told you, I swear. I’ve been seeing this specialist about developing a custom pacemaker, but we’re not yet sure whether it is gonna be effective with all the scar tissue in my chest and I didn’t want to get your hopes up before I was 100 percent sure it would work.”

He makes his eyes as big as possible before looking up at Pepper. “Please don’t be mad?”

With a sigh, Pepper shifts her chair a little closer to the hospital bed. “I am mad,” she emphasises. “But I’m also glad that you didn’t die while climbing the stairs. And proud that you’re working on getting it fixed, though I’m not sure yet which of them is stronger.”

“Well, that’s…” Tony struggles to sit up a little against his lumpy hospital pillows and grunts when the pain in his ribs flares up, “that’s something I can work with.”

“How are you actually feeling?” Pepper asks. “And no lies this time.”

“It hurts,” Tony admits. “My chest. And, well, there’s the aftershock of almost dying.” The corners of his mouth twist into a smile. “But what else is new?”

Pepper’s expressions softens. She reaches for his hand on the blanket and takes it in both of hers, giving it a squeeze. Then she reaches up to his chest and lets her flat palm rest just above his traitorous heart.

Pepper doesn’t often talk about feelings, and if she does, she phrases them in a rational manner - so unlike Tony, who swings back and forth between stinging sarcasm and cheesy declarations of love. But he knows what she’s saying now, through the concern in her eyes, through the fingertips that outline the scars between the electrodes fixed to his bare chest.

I need you. I was so scared of losing you. Don’t be gone again.

Tony lays his hand on top of hers. “Thanks for saving me, Miss Potts,” he whispers.

She smiles in response. “That’s my day job, Mr. Stark.”

The lights suddenly flicker back on, replacing the green emergency glow with a cold white light. Tony blinks against the sudden brightness, feeling a headache throb against the back of his skull. He’s exhausted as if he’s been on a three-day mission. Although his original plan was to sneak out of the hospital bed and repair the elevator as soon as Pepper goes back to work, he now wonders whether a bit of rest might not be a bad idea. Not while he is alone, though.

“You gotta get back to SI?” he asks casually, wondering somewhere in the back of his mind whether there will be a day when he’ll simply be able to utter the word stay.

“Oh, seeing that the electricity went out, I postponed my meeting. I guess it’s okay to be absent a little longer and just answer a few emails from here,” she replies just as casually, nodding at the StarkPad poking out of her handbag.

The thing about Pepper is, sometimes she just gets him.

“Well then, be my guest,” he says with a smirk. “Make sure that Bruce and Peter get some rest after repairing my tower - poor guys have had a long day. And could you ask someone to check up on Dum-E and U…?”

“Sleep.” She silences him with a light kiss on the lips.

He takes her face in his hands with somewhat uncoordinated movements and kisses her back, hard, until he has to stop to take a breath. He feels very complete, slightly winded, and also a bit woozy. Pepper catches on to that and raises an eyebrow. “No sexual activity until you get your pacemaker, boss,” she teases.

A small smile spreads across Tony’s lips just as he can feel his eyelids start to grow heavy. "We'll see about that."

__________________________

@badthingshappenbingo This is my fill for the ‘Broken Ribs’ square.

All my fics

Taglist: @toomuchtoread33 @yepokokfine

#badthingshappenbingo #broken ribs #heart issues #fainting #cardiac dysrhythmia #hurt tony stark #sick tony #irondad #spiderson #pepperony #pepper/tony #science bros #bruce banner #pepper potts #tony stark #peter parker #mcu #marvel fanfic

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onlyjihoons · 6 years

Text

figureskater!jihoon

a/n: based off this picture!

you and jihoon had this unspoken rivalry that till this day, no one knows why

except your coach and jihoon

essentially, you and jihoon trained under the same coach when the two of you were younger

one day your coach praised you for nailing a camel spin and jihoon was jealous

not because he didnt have the ability to do so, but your coach rarely compliments the both of you

so from then on he started to lowkey hate you bc you were the "first" skater to break the "no compliment" facąde of your coach

and then it just got worse when the both of you started to enter competitions

the both of you do top your catergories and your coach praised the both of you nonetheless

but jihoon cant seem to let the hatred go,, despite being older than you

your coach found it funny how jihoon couldnt let his childhood jealousy go after so many years of training together

like,,, youve matured in your looks but not your jealousy??

you on the other hand had no idea why jihoon hated you sm

so you just hated him back LOL

during training, the both of you would be uber competetive

oh jihoon did a double axel? you would do a triple axel and double toe combination

oh you did a biellman spin?? jihoon would do a biellman spin and then an I spin right after

thank you wikipedia and yuzuru hanyu

its just hella competetive between the both of you its just so funny

your fellow best friend, also figure skater!daehwi would lowkey be worried for you

bc all those spins and jumps?? like wont you fall or smth

you just huffed, "yah, lee daehwi, are you underestimating me rn??"

"no, im just afraid that you will get hurt:(("

on the other hand, fellow figure skater!guanlin tries to salvage a friendship

"but hyung, she did nothing wrong to--"

"shut up guanlin you know no shit"

you do have friends you meet outside of korea during competitions

like,, wakaba higuchi(yall i love her ksndksksm)

and they always tease you about jihoon

but you always shake your head and threaten to loosen the laces in their skates if they uttered the word "Jihoon" one more time

during competition season it was always common for fellow skaters to evaluate between themselves

and this time, ice prince baejin was your mentor

(also do check out iris' figure skater!baejin)

he was like the yuzuru hanyu of your team

there was this certain element in your routine which was pretty difficult to nail

which is a triple axel and a triple loop

you asked your coach to cut it down to a double loop instead but he told you he had faith in you so you felt bad and just tried to nail it from scratch

and of course, baejin was worried but neither was he in any position to change your routine

so he had to help you and guide you through

he was patient in every step and made sure your landing does not compromise on your ankle

meanwhile, as jihoon watched the both of you interact he cant help but to feel a certain feeling bubbling at the put of his stomach

was it jealousy? was it anger?

he could only watch afar when baejin pulled you up from your fall as the both of you exchanged giggles

so jihoon just skated around the rink, trying to show off a few jumps and spins as perfect as possible

baejin saw it, and smirked, "why dont your coach get Jihoon-hyung to help you? hes the best at jumps though,"

you could only smile sheepishly, "we arent really close enough to do that"

"ah..." it all clicked in baejin's head already, "not close enough--ow!"

"youre supposed to coach me, not play cupid."

on the competition day, as you practiced the dreaded combination on flat ground, you did exactly as what baejin told you to do and your coach was proud

until... you went on ice

you were not the type to make any mistakes on ice, but the combination failed you as you landed quite roughly and fell

you heard multiple gasps from the audience and could already visualise yourself getting cut out of the team

nonetheless, you continued on and finished the routine nicely

as you exited the rink, tears were already forming when your coach tried to comfort you, and you quickly shrugged on your jacket

in the end, you were placed as a runner up, which wasnt bad but not up to your expectations

when you walked back to the locker room, you walked past jihoon and his friends who were seemingly laughing about something

"yah, did you see her fall? it was tragic" you heard one of his friends snicker

"i know right, shes gonna get cut off."

you glared at jihoon, whilst he was still smiling at their joke

and that made you hate jihoon even more

having the audacity to hate you for no reason and now laughing at your fall? he was being such a blatant bitch about it and wasnt even sorry

you stormed off, exiting the gymnasium to get some fresh air

then settling on a park bench and sighing into your slouch

your brain took over the rest of your feelings as your tears stained your face again, makeup long erased from your previous tears

just then, you felt a presence beside you and looked up, it was jihoon, carrying a plastic bag

your rolled your eyes as you got ready to stand up, an arm pulling you back into your seat

"what? are you gonna laugh at me more for my fall? mr perfect jumps?" you sniffed

"you idiot," jihoon shook his head as he took out a bandage and some dettol,"you dont even notice that youre bleeding"

you looked at your left shin, and heck, it was, blood cascading down your legs and staining your white nikes

"give me your leg," jihoon patted his tigh as he shrugged off his jacket and placed it on your tighs

you obediently complied, as jihoon gently dressed your wound and occasionally asking you if the dettol was stinging

you were genuinely touched that jihoon would actually care for you though, since he has been hating you for so long

after he bandaged your wound, he cleared his throat awkwardly,

"if you want me to i can beat up those bastards for you, they got a scolding from me already--"

you were surprised that jihoon actually wasnt laughing with them, as you giggled

"its fine, they wont even be able to make it to the team anyways"

jihoon raised his eyebrows, as he cleared his throat again, "do you want to watch my routine later? coach choi said that it was my personal best"

you scoffed as you rolled your eyes, he was using your coach to make you jealous

"yeah sure, i'll see if coach choi's right"

"then i'll--"

just then, jihoon's phone rang, and he pulled his phone away from his ear as soon as he picked it up

"i'm sorry, i gotta go now"

before you could return jihoon his jacket, he disappeared into the gymnasium already

you begrudgingly sat beside your coach as you watch jihoon prepare himself on ice

no doubt, he looked hella good in his costume, a white button up and black pants

what made you more surprised was the song he was skating to

it was Spring Day by BTS

you remember yourself always playing Spring Day in the background when you warmed up in the rink during practice

it was your favourite song

when the song was reaching its climax, jihoon did a series of triple axels and quads, which was honestly really pretty and he landed perfectly

during the chorus he actually danced on the ice?? like wOaH

you were throughly impressed honestly, it takes alot of effort and skill to be able to dance on ice

with stray parts of his blonde hair flying wind, he looked ethereal

you getting snatched was an understatement

during the bridge, he did a quad lutz which was, really mind blowing

in the end, jihoon did clinch that champion title

you swore if he didnt get that you would physically fight the judges

you thought jihoon would saunter to you just to show off that he was the champion,, but no

he gave you the flowers he was gifted with one of his knees on the floor

“y/n... i know we have been hating on each other for the longest time, i really dont want to keep up with this honestly, will you be my girlfriend?”

before you could turn to your coach, he was already filming the whole ordeal on his mobile phone

you shyly nodded, as jihoon picked you up and spun you around aaa

the next thing you saw trending on the internet was you and jihoon’s relationship LOL

dating jihoon didn’t make the competetiveness go away tbh

except that jihoon would actually stop when he thinks its too dangerous for you to attempt

warm up is no longer you warming up alone

jihoon warms up with you with cheeky rounds of tag on ice

you have never fell on ice thanks to jihoon

because that boy would blast to your side just to catch you

“i told you to be careful babe, im not always here to catch you when you fall”

the type who will actually send a video of himself doing aegyo before you go in for competitions just to make you laugh and relax

its not that you hate it, you just find it funny

he is now your unofficial coach as well, aiding in your jumps and spins

“i love figure skating, and thanks to it i met the girl i love.”

#park jihoon #wanna one scenarios #wanna one #park jihoon scenarios

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nyrator · 6 years

Text

random life ramblingsss

all dumb down-y stuff so caution while reading I guess?

mind stuffs are bleh lately, been in a super depression again and yeahhh, like I want to draw but I can’t, I want to try things/read things/etc but don’t have the energy to try, at most I can play Mario because I still have that momentum going but I’m fairly close to finishing it so nyeh

so yeah mostly just sitting in my chair longing for death letting my body go numb for a few hours at a time as I get lost in thoughtss (my mind’s like addicted to feeling like that)

in other newsss

my sister’s current boyfriend moved out surprisingly (for how long who knows), so there’s that. Though her insurance won’t cover her medication to keep her off her addiction to heroin, sooo yeah we’ll see how that goes in the future

my mother is my mother and lets my aunt and her son stay at our house now and it is bleh, especially my aunt she’s a mess, drinks vodka from the moment she gets up to the moment she passes out, can’t walk without a cane (and falls over at least twice a week, at least around me), and has the mental capacity of an amazed three year old all the time

her son is pretty reserved and just stays on the couch next to me on his laptop all day and occasionally checks out what I’m doing, which as someone who wants privacy is ehhhh but oh welll (thankfully he isn’t using my internet connection, though at the rate my computer is going I’ll be amazed if my computer will survive the winter)

also Blacky is still depressed and hardly around anymore (he goes missing for days at a time in the bitter cold and I can’t stand how my mother doesn’t understand “I don’t want him outside”, “well he wanted to go out he was crying at the door” “then you pet him and walk away and he stops crying at the door”, he’s afraid of people, so the constant activity from my aunt/cousin has him not around downstairs at all, and the kitten just leaves him confused and unwanted (five cats is too many and it’s still stressful on everyone involved, watching my sister “raise” that kitten aka rub it against her face, get clawed on the lip, then throw the kitten to the ground, stomp around it, and furiously telling my mother to get it declawed (none of my cats are declawed) but yeah, that kitten is very playful/aggressive towards the other cats and they are all stressed out

and so the only time I see Blacky in the house is when I go to bed (where he sleeps next to my face occasionally and I love him). On one hand, I’m allergic to cats and so I can hardly breathe all night and end up waking up constantly during the night- On the other hand, that usually leads to me actually remembering my dreams, so yeah

speaking of, I also had a dream on Friday night/Saturday morning that was pretty much “oh man the costume party’s today, gotta get ready for it before work, oh man I need to shave my legs already, oh man my mother’s in the car waiting to take me, I can shave my legs really quick in the tub with my clothes on, oh wait my left leg is growing fake pine branches now, darn it how do I shave this fast, oh shoot I just realized sitting in a tub fully dressed with my pant legs rolled up still gets my clothes soaked who would’ve thought, oh man gotta rush to the car, oh wow I actually made it on time- Oh shoot I left something in my room, something something aaa head spinning finding things time running out anddd wake up” and it was all avoided because my leg hair is a very fine blonde color so I didn’t even botherr

sleeping with Blacky is a good thing overall thanks to the dreams he gives me

ALSO SPEAKING OF THAT HALLOWEEN PARTY

I tried chicken for the first time (by that I mean I nibbled off the smallest piece of a chicken wing my friend made) and it was uncomfortable and too much flavor for my mouth to handle and bluh

my diet is still pathetically bad/empty, but hey I can say I ate something bird related now kinda not really

also yeah like

I started drawing a GC comic like two weeks ago but can’t keep my focus on it and so no progress on it, also tried doodling a pixel art last night from a scene in my head of you&me but again can’t keep up motivation (or figure out how to draw scenery/detailed character poses)

bluhhhhh

... oh yeah one more thing the original reason for typing this all out

is that I still can’t believe I’m still job hunting when I already have a job

my flower shop job is so nice and easy and I love it but it only gives me about 700 a month which barely affords an apartment, without including my car/student loans. Also still feeling bleh about those loans since I don’t even drive still (and my mother is bad on the car and keeps taking it to the wrong people to get it repaired, like “the car has a five year warranty on these things” “yeah but x said he’ll do it for free” “but the warranty is free” “yeah but- oh hey why is the car saying “transmission malfunction” why is everything broken after taking it to a friend to get an oil change”), also a full student loan for only completing one year at college before dropping out doesn’t help

yeahhhhh money is dumb and it is hard to find a job I can do that also has hours that work around my current ones

bluhhh all I want to do is learn how to japanese/sew/etc, look nice before I get too old where I can’t look nice anymore, live alone or with people who I can trust, and make cute things come to life that people can enjoy

sorry for all the blehh textsss, I don’t know why it eases my mind to post about these publicly rather than talk to friends directly who I know would listen, but here we are

#text stuffs #nyrants

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ambitionsource · 4 years

Photo

AMBITION Season 2 ♫ “Contingency Plan” [ 2.07 ]

CREATED BY Esther (rapunzles) & Maggie (quincywillows) || S2 Tag || Official Page

JUST IN CASE – In preparation for the looming pressure of senior year, Eric meets with each junior for a mandatory check-in. Unwanted attention sheds light on areas of weakness. Contents under pressure can only bend so much before they break.

70 Minutes (20K words) || CONTENT WARNING: suicide attempt (not shown); suicidal ideation; depictions of anxiety. Take care of yourselves and read with discretion.

[ ← Trapped ] [ S2 Synopsis ] [ Got A Lotta Livin’ To Do → ]

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

INT. AUDITORIUM - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “A Million Dreams” as performed by The Greatest Showman Original Cast || Performed by Eric Matthews (feat. Angela Moore)

From the back, we open on a young student sitting backwards on a chair underneath a gleaming spotlight. As they launch into the opening notes of the number, something about the voice is vaguely familiar albeit a much higher tenor than we’re used to. As the camera eases in a circle around them…

We come to face YOUNG ERIC MATTHEWS (16). He’s fresh-faced, excited, sporting his ridiculously good ‘90s hair and with a layer of baby fat on his cheeks. He’s in the role all of our protagonists are in now, the world he once occupied -- a hopeful performing arts student, dizzyingly proclaiming all of the dreams he’s going to accomplish.

There’s something truly charming about his youthful performance. An unwavering belief in his passion, an electric energy as he dances across the stage that has matured into something deeper as he’s gotten older. Undoubtedly, he’s also good, really good -- just as good as any of the students at AAA despite not attending some fancy academy for the arts.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

When the vocal tenor shifts in the middle of the song, younger Eric spins and the camera goes with him, transforming into ERIC MATTHEWS in present day. He’s still singing the same song, reprising the number on the AAA stage. The junior A class sits scattered in the audience, visible mostly from the back of their heads like how young Eric was first viewed.

A surprise guest joins in, ANGELA MOORE floating onto the stage with gusto. The A class performers react accordingly to this, excitement in their features at their former coach making a grand return. On the line “share your dreams with me,” she smiles and holds her hands to her heart -- MAYA HART emulates the gesture in the audience, obviously so happy she’s back.

Angela and Eric finish out the duet impressively, reminding us that the faculty at AAA certainly hold an understanding of what their students are currently living through. They round out a spin together and fall into a hug as the piano takes the song out, before walking to the front of the stage and clasping their hands together in front of themselves.

HARPER BURGESS jogs onto the stage to join them as the A class applauds, completing the trio and matching their stance.

Harper: Welcome to check-in week.

As they go on to explain, this is the annual week in the midst of each class’ junior year during which they meet with Eric -- and this time, maybe Angela! -- to discuss what their current goals and plans for the future are. Colleges, auditions, the real world is just around the corner, and it’s time for them to start preparing for it.

The response to this impending reality is decidedly mixed. Some seem excited, invigorated, whereas others look reluctant or just plain scared. Off these varied emotions --

Cue title sequence.

INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY

The diva crop of performers are together again, Maya leading the discussion as she, ZAY BABINEAUX, NIGEL CHEY, YINDRA AMINO, and ISADORA DE LA CRUZ eagerly discuss the content of the week. Maya has every detail of her life seemingly planned down to the wire, more than prepared to chase that elusive dream by every single choreographed move.

Yindra and Nigel add in their two cents, the former claiming she wants to jet-set straight to Los Angeles to start trying to break into the music industry. Maya scoffs at this, claiming that’s a pretty risky business venture. Nigel notes that he wants to attend one of the theater schools in New York before jumping the ocean to study / start up some roles in London at the West End. Every great actor gets their start in the West End.

Zay and Isadora are particularly quiet. As Zay listens to his friends verbally shoot for the stars, he contemplates that maybe he’s selling himself too short or approaching his future too modestly. Isadora feels totally lost, way behind on the performer uptake and not even sure what she wants to pursue once they graduate.

Nigel: Well, better to have many talents you can’t choose between than be tethered to one that may or may not pan out.

Maybe so, Nigel. Maybe so. Isadora smiles half-heartedly, averting her gaze as they jump back into daydreaming. She notices FARKLE MINKUS seated a couple tables away by himself, excusing herself softly.

Oddly enough, Farkle is suddenly… looking and acting a lot more like his former self. He’s back in his more polished fashion from season one, despite how it doesn’t fit right anymore with his height gain and weight loss. His hair has been swept back off his forehead into what could be considered a coiff… if you squint.

More than that, what’s so jarring about it is the fervor that seems to have taken him over. He’s spent much of the school year being uncharacteristically listless unless provoked, and now he’s suddenly back to work at a ferocious pace. He’s bent over his laptop and a notebook, meticulously crafting his “future” presentation for Eric.

Isadora raises her eyebrows as she approaches, keeping the table safely between them.

Isadora: Well, didn’t realize future week meant we were throwing back to the past.

Farkle: [ lifting his head, glaring ] What?

Isadora: I’m just… you’re looking…

[ She isn’t sure what to say. Communicating is hard. ]

Isadora: You’ve certainly made a return to form, that’s all.

Farkle: Well, if nothing else is going to change then I don’t see why I should. The assignment for the week reminded me that nothing is more important than our goals -- that’s the only reason we’re at this school in the first place. And I guess something just… came over me.

Isadora: Yes, the ghost of Farkles past.

Farkle, unamused: Are you done wasting my time? And yours. Surely you would be better off spending your energy trying to figure out your paradoxical existence and decide which part of yourself you’re going to cut out to fully devote yourself to a set future at the age of sixteen.

Isadora honestly has no idea what to say. Partially because Farkle is being so waspish, and also because he sort of hit the nail on the head. She backs off without further comment, only glancing back over her shoulder once before marching away.

INT. AAA - CORY’S CLASSROOM - DAY

RILEY MATTHEWS is having lunch with CORY MATTHEWS, wisely avoiding the overwhelming atmosphere of the junior lunch period this week. As the two of them discuss her future potential, Cory is predictably all about one thing -- the dream. To him, Riley unequivocally has what it takes to make it, and she shouldn’t be giving that up for anything.

This is an uplifting take, and it’s nice that Cory believes in her so faithfully. But it’s not necessarily helpful, and doesn’t give Riley much to work with when it comes to outlining her plans in a tangible way for Eric to judge them.

She gives him a smile, turning back to her food as it falters somewhat.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

As Riley heads back into the hall, she accidentally runs into CHARLIE GARDNER. They exchange apologies, Riley attempting to strike up conversation about check-in week. But Charlie isn’t all that talkative, politely claiming he’s running late for a meeting and really needs to go.

Riley watches as he jogs away, finding his behavior a little odd. He’s Charlie, and he’s always been odd, but now Riley is more attuned to it since they’re tentatively rebuilding a friendship.

She lets it drop for now, but the expression on her face makes it clear she isn’t finished with it.

INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

Zay is already warming up when Charlie arrives for their typical practice. Both of them are obviously a bit on edge due to the nature of the week, but at different levels of willing to talk about it. Zay laments how stupid the whole week is, whereas Charlie isn’t ready to give it any thought whatsoever.

Charlie can tell that Zay’s attitude goes deeper than annoyance, however, so he nudges him into talking about it. After a moment, Zay admits that he feels like maybe his approach in being realistic has instead turned pessimistic, and he’s being his own worst enemy.

Zay: My parents are both very logical people, okay? They totally support me and Jada in whatever we want to do -- and of course, we both chose artistic and ridiculous passions --

Charlie: True test of supportive parenting, they should be prepared for it.

Zay: But there was always this logical caveat nested in my brain. Like, I could do it, but it would take planning and perseverance and tons of hard work.

Charlie: And that’s wrong?

Zay: I don’t know. Just listening to everyone else talk about it, they’re all thinking big moves. They’re giving themselves the credit to be able to jump to another city or step up for a major audition on a whim. And I always thought I was as bold as the rest, but maybe I’m not. Maybe I’m selling myself short before I even go on sale. And I have no idea how to not be that way.

Charlie assures him that thinking logically and realistically isn’t a bad thing. They need a balance of both, he thinks, to actually survive a life in the arts. But if Zay wants to push his own boundaries and think bigger, then he needs to start by reaching as high as he can.

As if to demonstrate the notion of pushing boundaries, Charlie braves taking his hands when he comes to stand in front of him. Despite the fact that they’re at school, and anyone could walk into the dance studio at any moment. Zay glances down at their hands while Charlie asks him to think bigger, to think about what he thinks the highest bar he could reach might be.

They do the exercise back and forth for a bit, Zay saying something in his possible post-graduate trajectory and Charlie instructing him to go even grander. It escalates until it gets truly ridiculous, Charlie laughing as Zay says something like usurping Beyoncé fresh out of AAA and going on a world tour.

Sure, that’ll never happen, but the exercise does what it’s supposed to. It opens them both up, and Zay thanks Charlie sincerely.

He then tries to return the favor and allow Charlie the chance to talk about his future anxieties, but he’s not having it. He slips from his grasp, claiming they should really get to practicing.

Charlie: Can’t usurp Beyoncé if you’re not in top shape.

INT. BLUE’S APARTMENT - DAY

Isadora goes to visit BLUE NGUYEN after school, settling into his apartment. She’s eager to discuss the week’s assignment with someone who knows her well but is a removed neutral party, but it seems as though Blue is distracted. He’s got stuff going on with his new job -- since he can’t afford to go to college yet on his own -- and although he still attempts to be an avid listener Isadora can tell his mind is elsewhere.

She changes tracks instead, asking him what he’s working on. He seems grateful for the chance to talk about it, Isadora nodding along with a tight smile.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY

Riley isn’t getting much work done on her own future outline, distracted by Topanga’s incoming visit for family dinner. She’s fixated on picking the perfect outfit and trying to seem put together, obsessively fixing her new short hair in the mirror.

Maya is on a completely different page, erecting a whole moodboard for her meeting. It’s like a flashy, diva science fair board, and she’s lovingly adding pieces and tweaking them to perfection. She questions why Riley is so panicked over the meal while adding a photo of Britney Spears to the collage, right next to Valerie De La Cruz under “career inspirations.”

Riley: You’ve never had dinner with my family, okay? Especially not recently.

Maya: Really hyping this up for me, honey.

Riley: Besides I… I don’t know. I just have this… there’s this feeling…

She can’t articulate it, but she trusts her gut. She knows the other shoe has to drop eventually, although she’s not sure in what regard or what that might mean for them. How the hell is she supposed to focus on the future when her present is such a disaster?

INT. BABINEAUX HOUSE - KITCHEN - NIGHT

Zay is leaning against the kitchen counter, lamenting his future troubles to DONNA BABINEAUX as she bustles around making dinner. She essentially echoes exactly what Charlie told him, albeit with her own touch.

Donna: Look, you work hard. You work twice as hard as the rest of the divas in that class to earn half the respect, and you’ve got the accolades to prove that you’re some of the best they’ve got. So to hell with reservations, you should not be concerned about reaching too high. Worry about the fall when you get there.

Convincing argument. Zay contemplates, nodding and gearing up to rearrange some things in his presentation for Eric.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - NIGHT

The full clan is assembled along with Maya, TOPANGA LAWRENCE avidly holding conversation with AUGGIE MATTHEWS. Cory mostly remains quiet as usual, smiling where appropriate and speaking when invited by others. Riley is quiet as well, unusually nervous.

Topanga lights up with a thought, remembering that there was something she wanted to let them all know. She happily declares that she’s decided where she wants to relocate permanently -- upstate! Out of the city, where her practice can really thrive and she can maybe expand.

But also hours away rather than minutes by train. This is a bombshell revelation, and Riley barely gets the chance to react to it before Topanga is already changing the subject again. She pulls Maya into conversation, wanting to know more about her and hear all about her time at AAA as compared to Riley’s.

Maya glances at Riley before taking up the conversational slack. Riley looks to Cory, wide-eyed, but he doesn’t have any optimism to offer. As this heavy reality settles over this dinner…

INT. GARDNER HOME - DINING ROOM - NIGHT

The more distant future is up for discussion at the Gardner table. ELEANOR GARDNER and AMBROSE GARDNER are curious to hear what this “check-in week” entails at AAA, and excitedly wonder what Charlie has thought about in regards to his future. ROSAMUND GARDNER and DAISY GARDNER listen plaintively, grateful it’s not them in the hot seat.

This is an uncomfortable topic, because Charlie doesn’t feel like he has any grasp on a future for himself. He barely knows who he is right now, he can’t fathom the future. He tries to give them something to chew on anyway, admitting that he loves dance a lot, but isn’t sure what he wants to do with that.

Rosie: Why are you at dance school then?

Charlie glares at her, kicking at her under the table. She sneers back, waiting until both parents aren’t looking to stick her tongue out at him. Eleanor jumps back into the brainstorming session Charlie never asked for, eagerly suggesting that he consider theology school if he isn’t sure what else he wants to do.

Eleanor: They have a great institution, Aggie loved it. They even have a performing arts major, which would be fun and still aligned with your interests.

Daisy, under her breath: Bridal college...

Ambrose laughs lightly, playing off of Daisy’s comment.

Ambrose: There you go, Charlie. Daisy’s onto something. You could get yourself a future and a wife, nice two-for-one.

Charlie: Oh, perfect. All figured out then. Ha ha.

Charlie’s words do not match his expression. He looks like he’s going to be sick, stabbing at his peas and forcing himself to swallow a forkful.

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY

Before Charlie’s fork can hit the plate again, Maya’s moodboard hits the surface of Eric’s desk. She launches into professional and compelling presentation mode, giving a thorough, impassioned, and somewhat overwhelming explanation of how she’s outlined the next fifteen years of her career.

It all starts with arts college, of course, to which she’s selected a list of five in preference order that she will be applying to come next fall. From there, she has about four branching plans for each school that accounts for even the smallest details, creating an elaborate future tree that all eventually leads to the inevitable -- her name in lights, doing what she was born to do.

In the midst of Maya’s monologue, a classic AMBITION montage throws other juniors into the chair across from Eric to discuss their futures. Nigel makes commentary about how he just wants to act, but he figures going to AAA has given him plenty of practice for dealing with the drama of the industry. Yindra explains that she wants to head straight to Los Angeles, maybe major in music production but predominantly focus on building connections.

Yindra: Rumor has it you have a younger brother in the music industry. Want to share contact info, Mister E?

LUCAS FRIAR takes the chair across from Eric, and from the (: expression on his face we can tell that he’s not going to be making this easy for the well-meaning counselor. He essentially answers all of his questions with non-answers, spinning the question or throwing it back in his direction.

Eric: Come on, Lucas. It doesn’t have to be difficult. What exactly have you been thinking for your future?

Lucas: What have you been thinking for your future, Mister Matthews?

Eric: I’m sorry?

Lucas: You know, social security is running out. I’m doomed for retirement, but you still have a chance and should consider your options.

Eric: I don’t --

Lucas: In fact, you could be contemplating retirement right now.

Eric: How old do you think I am?

Lucas: You know what, you’ve got a lot to think about. Let me just get out of your hair. Best of luck with this next phase in your life, sir. Save a little social security for the rest of us provided climate change doesn’t kill us first!

Lucas slides out of the seat, propelling himself through the doors before Eric can even register what just happened. He rubs his face, totally confused.

A couple other A class students follow after.

Darby: I just don’t know if I’m cut out for this thing, you know? Sarah is always telling me I’m just a follower, but the world needs followers too, doesn’t it? Who would become social media influencers if there was no one to influence?

Eric: It’s okay if you don’t want to pursue the arts.

Darby: I mean, but what am I going to do instead? Follow in the footsteps of my mom? I won’t survive veterinary school, Mister E. And you can only cure lung cancer once!

[ Haley takes the seat next. ]

Haley: All I know is I want to stay in New York.

Eric: Why’s that?

Haley: Well, Clarissa is staying here because she wants to go to Juilliard to study music. I think she wants to be an orchestra or general music teacher, which would be so good for her. She’s like, sweet and patient but also sassy, and kids will like that. But I don’t wanna go too far, because we’re best friends and we’ve never been that far apart.

Eric: Uh huh…

Haley: Also, I guess if I want to try and be an actress and stuff, this is the place to be.

Eric: Do you want to try and be an actress?

Haley: Yes. I mean… not particularly. Maybe? It just feels like I’ve been following the path for so long it would be a major disappointment to have gotten this far and end up not following it through. It kind of... [ a beat ] It kind of feels like my whole crush on Charlie thing. It’s like, if it doesn’t end with us eventually riding off into the sunset together, then what was the whole point? [ a beat, then panicked ] Oh, God. Do you think I’ve been running on false hope this entire time?

Eric: Well, I wouldn’t say that --

Haley: You’re right! You’re right, haha, I’m just jumping to the worst case scenario. I’m going to stick with my flower shop with Clarissa plan and wait for Charlie to finally come around and come buy flowers for me and it will all work out. Thanks, Mister Eric.

Eric: … you’re welcome.

What a mess. But that’s every check-in week. It’s somewhat of a relief when Zay Babineaux walks through the door next, Eric greeting him cheerfully at the prospect of actually having a calm, rational conversation with someone.

Although a little nervous, Zay does a good job of laying out his new plans to Eric. The counselor listens eagerly, nodding along and seemingly impressed with some of the bolder ideas he has for paths to pursue post-graduation. When he finishes with an exhale, Eric applauds his creativity and ambition. Of course, he supports him considering he knows how hardworking and talented he is, and it’s obvious that his heart and soul went into thinking about this.

But on the other hand… Eric is obligated to point out the lack of back-up planning. Zay clearly has a lot of drive and ambition, which is excellent, but in throwing his reservations out the window to redo his plans he might’ve thrown them too far. What if he discovers he doesn’t want to pursue the arts after all? What if those high-reaching conservatories he applied to don’t accept him?

Fair points, but a difficult conversation to have with someone already feeling overlooked and stuck. The commentary hits a nerve and Zay grows defensive, arguing that Eric didn’t have all this criticism to give Maya. In Maya’s defense, she had fourteen thousand alternate routes mapped out, but that’s not what is really bothering Zay.

And so, for the first time, Zay has his diva meltdown. As he goes on to say, this is just more of the same that he’s endured since the moment he showed up at AAA. They’ve chosen their favorites and who they plan to back, and that’s clearly never going to change. He’s never going to be good enough for them.

Eric frantically tries to assure him that isn’t the case, but Zay is already marching out of the office. Yet another victim of the pressure of check-in week. As the grungy bass beat floats in...

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Consideration” as performed by Rihanna & SZA || Performed by Zay Babineaux

It’s been a while since we got some classic R&B funk from Zay Babineaux, and the frustration that is finally bubbling over the surface is the perfect catalyst to bring it. Zay does Rihanna proud as he saunters through the halls, angrily spitting out the tune. He does some light freestyling as he goes, expertly dancing around other students as they pay him no attention walking to their next class.

Still overlooked. Will you ever respect me? No…

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Charlie is on stage between run throughs, conversing with Haley and CLARISSA CRUZ. After some offhand conversation about how stressful the week is, during which Charlie is notably quiet, the girls claim they have to get changed before lunch. Each of them give him a quick hug.

While embracing Haley, Charlie seems to realize something. He’s hugging Haley -- and Clarissa -- because they’re friends. And no one is thinking anything of it. They bid him farewell, heading down the hall.

Charlie contemplates the matter as he finishes gathering his things. No one is watching his every move, calculating every single thing he does and trying to pick apart his motives. If that can be true for his friendship with them…

Well, perhaps that’s not entirely true. Riley enters the wings and stops as the girls are finishing up their hugs with him, observing curiously. It bothers her that he seems so completely comfortable with them and yet continues to act so weird with her. She chews her lip, frowning.

INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY

By the time she’s made it to lunch with Maya and Isadora, Riley has made realizations of her own. In her mind, there is obviously something deeper to the whole weirdness between her and Charlie that she’s not in on. There’s a greater conspiracy at play, and she’s going to get to the bottom of it.

Isadora: Riley, you know I love a good mystery. But this… is crazy.

Maya: Yeah, what do you think you’re going to “uncover?” This is Charlie Gardner we’re talking about.

Isadora: I repeat. You’re being crazy.

Maya: The most shocking thing you’re going to end up finding out is that all his GAP fare is actually from Banana Republic.

Riley is adamant, though, and a little miffed that they’re not supporting her. Maya points out another truth to the situation.

Maya: Do you think maybe you’re… deflecting a bit? With everything that’s happening with your parents --

Isadora: What? What happened now?

Riley: No, no, that has nothing to do with this. This is a long game, okay? Charlie has been weird with me since the day I showed up at Triple A, you can’t deny that.

Maya shrugs, already losing interest. Riley goes on to highlight how uneven his relationship has been solely with her, and she feels she deserves answers. She’s fixed and figured out problems before, and she’s going to get to the bottom of this one.

Isadora and Maya exchange a look, opting to leave Riley be. She’s happier when she has a project anyway, and happiness is in short supply these days.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The techies are assembled in the back section, idly discussing the progression of check-in week. JADE BEAMON asks Nate how his meeting went, and he scoffs.

Nate: Easy. I could feed Mister E anything and he would’ve approved it. We all know they only really care about their superstar performers and their fast tracks to fame.

Doesn’t look like any of them are going to disagree. ASHER GARCIA mutters about not wanting to step into Eric’s office ever again, since every time they end up in there it leads to eventual disaster. DYLAN ORLANDO asks DAVE WILLIAMS if he’s thought about what he’s going to say in his meeting.

Dylan: Do you know what you want to do once you blow this popsicle stand?

Dave: There are popsicles here? Why am I only learning this now?!

Nate clarifies, meaning what does he want to do with his future. Dave pauses, thinking.

Dave: Might be nice to help combat the impending danger of climate change and issues with renewable resources by studying environmental sciences or maybe aeronautical space engineering in pursuit of space materials that could be used as new energy sources.

Jade: … oh?

Dave: Yeah. Ooh, or a rodeo clown!

The rest of them exchange content looks. There it is. Lucas arrives just as they’re moving past the nice moment, Nate turning the question on him and asking how his check-in went. Lucas scoffs, putting out an air of smugness as he claims he totally blew it off. Eric probably doesn’t even know what hit him after their meeting.

Whereas this sort of behavior from Lucas is usually brushed off, the pressure of the week (and well, the whole year) has worn patience thin. So rather than just rolling her eyes, Jade actually questions whether or not Lucas doing such a thing was a wise decision. Or a polite one, at that.

Lucas: Do you really care what the hell I do in my meeting with counselor Eric?

Jade: No, I’m only saying is being rude to someone who’s just trying to help guide you really something to be proud of?

Oh. There’s a tension to the techie brigade that hasn’t ever really been there before. Dylan clears his throat and tries to alleviate it, saying diplomatically that he doubts it’s a big deal. But Lucas isn’t used to his fellow techies stepping to him, least of all Jade, so he can’t let it go.

Lucas: Do you have a problem with me, Jade? Because if you are, you can just say it to my face.

Jade, defensively: I mean, I am, but to be fair you’re not really listening to anybody right now.

Nate whistles, grimacing. The conversation quickly escalates, Lucas trying to defend himself in a group that’s supposed to be non-confrontational while Jade -- and eventually, JEFF MONROE -- step up and argue against how bad his behavior has been this year. To be frank, it’s obnoxious, and more than that they’re concerned. They’re his friends, and he hasn’t been treating anybody much like friends as of late.

The frustration is valid and the intentions are good, but Lucas isn’t ready to be criticized. He deflects, feeling cornered and essentially hissing by telling them to back off before storming out.

Dylan and Asher immediately leap up to go after him, the former disappearing quickly but the latter not making it out before they come for him, too. Jeff points out that they’re not really helping with Lucas’s attitude when they back him up all the time.

Asher: Well, what am I supposed to do? Nothing?

Jade: No, but do you think you’re making anything better by just enabling his shitty behavior? I know you don’t -- you’ve told me you don’t. If you’re really his best friends, you could be doing more to combat it and make him… I don’t know, check himself.

Asher blinks, absorbing the blow from his other best friend. Knowing that she’s right, hating the fact that she is. Then he huffs, following the same pattern as Lucas.

Asher, sharply: Let me handle my own problems, alright?

Asher whips around, jogging after Lucas and Dylan. Jade shakes her head, exchanging an exasperated look with Jeff. Dave reaches forward and pats her on the shoulder.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Riley meets with Charlie at his locker, cheerfully greeting him and suggesting that the two of them partner together for their English assignment. Crazy, to still have other homework in the midst of all this chaos, but oh yeah, they’re also high school students. Charlie agrees, liking the prospect of working with Riley again even if he’s super stressed about everything else.

She accepts his agreement as commitment, happily telling him she’ll text him with ideas before flouncing off. She’s being a bit too peppy, even for Riley, but before Charlie can think on it too much he’s delivered an entirely new distraction.

Zay is marching down the hall, in a clearly worse mood than he normally lets show at school. Charlie frowns, jumping out to catch him from passing him by and pulling him back towards the lockers. He tries to get him to talk to him, asking what’s going on.

Zay recaps the gist of the meeting with Eric, getting worked up all over again. It’s obvious how deeply this hurt runs, regardless of how well he’s buried it down over the last three years. Charlie attempts to talk him down but he’s beyond that at the moment, totally emotionally overrun. So Charlie braves a different approach entirely, taking his shoulders and pulling him into a hug.

A hug. In the middle of the hallway. Where anybody can see. Zay tenses up at first, glancing around them with trained hesitation.

Zay: Charlie, man --

Charlie: It’s okay. [ a beat, softer ] It’s okay.

It’s okay, because he decided it’s okay. Charlie said it’s okay, and so it is. Zay hesitates for a moment longer before sinking into the embrace, actually gleaning comfort from it. Charlie closes his eyes, Zay tucking his head into his shoulder.

The rest of the school passes them by, not even giving them a second glance.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Angela is in the black box conversing with Harper, the two of them carrying on a rather pleasant conversation. When Angela asks about how she’s faring working with her admittedly stubborn boyfriend, Harper is spared from having to comment when Maya shows up early to class. She exchanges an enthusiastic hug with Angela, the latter commending her on her extensive and impressive future itinerary. Not that she had any doubts Maya would come correct.

When Angela shifts gears and quietly asks Maya about how she’s handling Katy’s relocation, she deflects and claims with diva levels of confidence that she’s fine. Unideal, but she’s trucking on regardless. Nothing to worry about here.

Other A class members begin to filter in, including Zay and Charlie. Zay catches the soft, fond exchange between Maya and Angela, another subtle reminder of the favoritism that has always existed in their class.

As Maya settles into her seat, she looks around before tapping Riley’s shoulder.

Maya: Where’s Izzy?

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Isadora is skipping performers lecture, wandering into the auditorium to try and catch the techies. If she’s having trouble finding an anchor elsewhere, then maybe a return to form is exactly what she needs.

She only finds four of them, Lucas, Dylan, and Asher still MIA. They’re hanging around on the stage, mood deflated and unusually quiet after their earlier conversation. Jade is focused on fixing a costume piece, but her hands are trembling as she works with the needle and thread.

Isadora’s arrival is a surprise to all of them, and she completely misreads the tone of the room. She makes a joke about how uncharacteristically grim they all are and it doesn’t go over well. Nate makes a backhanded comment about how she loves to just float back around to say hi whenever it’s convenient for her, and Jeff subtly seconds the notion by asking Isadora what she’s even doing there when she should be in class.

Isadora: Oh, so what, suddenly we’re all saints who never skip class? Didn’t realize how much could change in such a short amount of time.

Nate: Yeah. No kidding.

Isadora: … okay, what the hell is up with you guys?

Keeping it short and sweet, essentially, Lucas sucks. Isadora is like okay, tell me something I don’t know, but that doesn’t settle well with Jade.

Jade: Actually, Isa, you don’t know. Because you haven’t been here spending all year with him. You dropped him when you dropped the rest of us and haven’t had to deal with it since.

Whew, Jade is on fire today. Isadora blinks, wondering if all of them are seriously upset with her. She argues against dropping them, struggling to find a defense and stating once again that she didn’t completely drop tech.

Jeff: Okay. Sure.

Isadora: I didn’t. I told you guys, I’m doing both --

Jade: Are you? Really? Because I haven’t talked to you in like, months. You didn’t contribute any tech work to the last four weeks of performances, and we built all of the materials for Into the Woods on our own, including after someone destroyed it the first time around.

Isadora: Well, if you want to get pissed about that --

Jeff: You haven’t sat with us for lunch since the end of last year. You don’t participate in the group chat.

Nate: Which is dead anyway, considering everyone is in such a pissy mood with Lucas being a fucking demon since you totally dumped him for the spotlight.

Isadora snaps, growing defensive. She states she’s not going to take responsibility for Lucas’s horrible attitude, but she admittedly has trouble taking responsibility for her own faults too. Turns out pride runs just as deep in the techie brigade as it does in the performers, at least when they’re fracturing apart and no longer a united front.

Isadora: I tried to tell you all, I’m doing both --

Jade, harshly: No, you’re not, Isa! You’re not doing both! You dropped your tech responsibilities and you know it. [ choked up ] And you dropped our friendship too.

Isadora shakes her head, but no words come out to argue against her. Jade’s eyes are glossy, and she chews on her cheek to keep it together. Nate delivers the final blow, crossing his arms and scoffing.

Nate: Like mother, like daughter.

That’s one step too far. Isadora’s hurt flares to anger in an instant. She marches forward and steps up onto the acting block in front of Nate, putting her at the perfect height to land a resounding slap across his face.

There’s a second of silence, and then all hell breaks loose. Isadora seems to only recognize what she’s done as the heat of the moment passes, her emotion shifting to blank horror on her face. Jade jumps up to pull Nate away from her, attempting to make sure he’s okay until he shrugs out of her grasp in embarrassment.

In spite of everything that’s been said, it’s Dave -- normally cheery, oblivious Dave -- who ends the confrontation. He glares at Isadora over his shoulder as he jogs over to catch up with Nate.

Dave: What the hell are you still doing here?

The four of them storm out in a flurry, leaving Isadora standing alone on the acting block. The doors slam, and then she’s surrounded by the imposing silence of the auditorium. Alone on the stage, an island of isolation that she’s somehow created all by herself. No way to escape it.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Waving Through A Window” as performed by Dear Evan Hansen Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Isadora De La Cruz

Isadora starts the ode to feeling alone from her spot on the acting block, tiny against the vast setting of the empty auditorium. She spends the first verse trapped on it, seemingly struggling with how to dismount from the position she’s found herself in. Her Converse -- the same black ones that Lucas said were her favorite -- toe the line from stumbling off the edge, but she can’t bring herself to step off in any direction.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

As the number progresses, Isadora makes her way dazedly through the halls as classes are in session all around her. She’s on the outside looking in of every classroom, every social setting, separated by windows from her classmates.

She starts to pick up her pace as the bridge swells, ending up running down the hallway. Quiet settles for just a moment…

EXT. AAA - LUNCH COURTYARD - DAY

Until it explodes into the final third of the performance, Isadora giving the impassioned solo her all. A light snow is falling, sprinkling the scenery in frost. She’s spinning and dancing on the constraints of what used to be her and Lucas’s usual table, close ups of her Converse depicting that same risk of slipping right off the edge multiple times only to step back to safety at the last moment.

This time, the conceit of being on the outside looking in has been inverted. All around the windows looking into the courtyard, Isadora’s classmates and other AAA students glare at her through the glass as they fill in the background vocals. She can’t communicate with any of them, she can’t connect -- she’s simply on display, able to be ridiculed or criticized without any sense of how to get back to join them.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

As the song comes to an end, Isadora is back on the acting block. Out of breath, obviously emotional, staring down at the ground from where she stands only a couple of feet above it.

Still, she can’t bring herself to move, frozen with uncertainty.

INT. MINKUS HOME - NIGHT

Farkle is still working on his presentation, spread out on the dining room table. He’s working obsessively, unable to keep still as he researches details for his career trajectory and adds them to his poster board. Even while he’s thinking he’s moving, fingers tapping against his arms or shifting from foot to foot.

Either way, it’s an abrupt shift from how lethargic he’s been, which seems like a relief to JENNIFER MINKUS. She asks him how it’s going as she comes out for a quick snack before heading to bed, suggesting he not stay up too late. He waves off the concern, but his investment in the project is loud and clear.

Farkle: Everything else going on right now doesn’t matter. I’ve been stuck on -- and it’s all -- it’s meaningless. What matters is this. The dream. [ ripping something off the board without hesitation ] If I get this right, then everything else won’t matter.

A bit single-minded, but passionate. Passion is a good thing, so this is an improvement if anything. Jennifer gives him a quick kiss on the cheek that he lightly shrugs away from before she heads off, leaving him alone again.

Despite how much progress he’s making, the longer we stay with him the more obvious it is that he’s struggling. He has energy, that’s for sure, but it’s all over the place. He can hardly focus, restless and growing frustrated over nothing in particular.

He takes a second and covers his face, sliding his hands up and tugging at his hair as he exhales. Glancing forward, the spark of an idea glimmers in his eyes.

INT. MINKUS HOME - KITCHEN - NIGHT

Rattles and bumps accompany a handful of pill bottles hitting the countertop. Farkle is digging through the family pill cabinet, searching for something in particular.

Finally, he finds it. A bottle specifically for ADHD, prescribed to Uri Minkus. He opens it and pops a couple of them, tossing everything back into the cabinet haphazardly.

Just has to get through the week. Just the week…

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - LUCAS’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Lucas is using his brick of a laptop again, room otherwise dark as he works. He’s got a few pamphlets on the bed next to him, and his browser has a dozen or so tabs open with different college sites.

He’s trying to actually take the future seriously, but it’s too much. His focus goes to key words on each page like “prestigious,” “well-rounded,” and “tuition.” The expectations and prices always feel far too high, making him frustrated.

Other words jump out to him too, none more intimidating than “passion.” College is for people who have ambition -- who have potential -- and Lucas knows he has neither.

But he knows this isn’t just going to go away. He switches back to his school email tab, a message open from Eric on screen. It mentions how poorly their first meeting went and requests that Lucas come in for another meeting as soon as possible so they can have a more constructive discussion.

Lucas scowls, slamming the computer shut. He pushes it off the bed along with the pamphlets, falling back onto his mattress. He yanks his blanket towards him and curls up towards the wall, hiding from it all.

Riley, pre-lap: You really don’t think we can do any better than that?

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT

Riley is picking away at her assignment as well, but she’s on the phone with Charlie as she works. They’re discussing their English assignment, and from the sound of it they’re not giving it very much effort considering everything else going on. Charlie suggests they keep it simple, but Riley makes a point of still insisting that they meet up after school sometime to work on it.

Charlie: Is it really that important to you?

Riley: … I just like to work face-to-face, that’s all. You know, collaborative communication.

Maya rolls her eyes from her spot on her bed. The conversation is interrupted when Cory raises his voice from the living room, making both girls jump. Topanga matches his volume a second later, Maya sitting up and locking eyes with Riley.

Riley: I… gotta go.

Riley hangs up without further explanation. Before she can say anything Auggie arrives at her door, looking wide-eyed and concerned as to what is going on out there. He asks Riley what’s happening, and she quickly pulls him into the room out of trouble before rushing out to investigate herself.

Awkwardly, this leaves Maya with Auggie. She glances at him and gives him a tight smile, nodding a ‘sup at a loss of what to offer otherwise.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - NIGHT

Riley leans around the doorway to the living room as Topanga and Cory escalate in their argument, obviously both impassioned over it. She can’t even find a time to jump in and try to break it up -- she doesn’t know where to begin.

It doesn’t take long to figure out the problem, however.

Cory: You can’t take them from me. You’ve already taken everything else. You can’t just decide you want to hit the reset button on your life and then take my son with you!

Topanga: Don’t be dramatic, Cory. I’ve told you exactly why but you’re refusing to listen -- the schools are far better upstate, and he’d have a far more stable lifestyle in a neighborhood that’s not the middle of Manhattan.

Cory: [ with a derisive laugh ] Stable? You’re talking about stable?

Topanga: Cory --

Cory: You’re the one who disrupted all of our lives in the first place! So don’t talk to me about stable, Topanga!

So that’s it, then. Topanga isn’t just removing herself from the equation of the Matthews family -- she intends to take Auggie with her. Riley is stunned, stepping into the room but not sure what to even say.

Topanga is done with the discussion anyway. She criticizes Cory’s theatrics again, pulling back on her coat and heading towards the door. She stops once she’s opened it, saying her last piece.

Topanga: I hope this won’t become a big thing. I am the litigator, remember. I think we know who would win a case.

This hits Cory hard. There’s silence in the room after she closes the door behind her, Riley watching her seemingly frozen father warily.

Riley: … dad?

And then it’s over. Cory collapses into a full break down, all of the emotion over the separation that he’s been trying to compartmentalize for the sake of everyone crashing down on him. Riley jogs over to help him and guides him towards the couch, doing her best to comfort him.

But it’s clear Riley doesn’t know how to deal with this development either. Her expression is blank as she hugs her father, totally forgetting about everything else piling up on her plate.

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY

Isadora is in the seat across from Eric, finishing up her discussion about the future. Although she does an excellent job of maintaining a poker face, the conversation between the two of them seems to reflect everything else she’s feeling conflicted about -- where she ends up depends on what she wants to do, and what she wants to do depends on who she is, and how does she begin to figure out who she is when she feels like she’s being pulled in a hundred different directions?

There’s a lot she could choose to dissect about the situation, but Isadora chooses to seek help for none of it. She merely nods along to Eric’s tentative guidance about her choice in schools, but she makes an escape when he tries to get her to talk about what else might be going on. The aloof mask might be fooling others, but it doesn’t fool him.

Today seems to be a particularly difficult day for meetings. SARAH CARLSON acts nonchalant in her one-on-one before bursting into tears, surprising Eric and causing him to cautiously pass the tissue box across the desk. Jade is already on thin ice emotionally and basically refuses to talk at all, speaking only about her future college programs for costuming. Her voice warbles even in discussing that, and Eric is sure if he asks her anything else there will be waterworks.

Dylan is a mess all his own, but more for Eric than himself. All things considered, Dylan is actually quite well-adjusted and happy with his plan for the future -- which is to say, he hardly has a plan at all.

Dylan: I might go to college, but also I don’t know. Seems like a lot of money, especially when I don’t really wanna do anything, you know?

Eric: … what are you hoping to do in the future, then?

Dylan, excitedly: Well, the main thing is to be a good partner, father, and homemaker. My dad had to do that all on his own when my mom died, you know, so he instilled the importance in me from an early age. Then I guess if I have time, I’ll keep making my videos. You’ve seen my vlogs, right? [ with a shrug ] As long as that keeps being fun, I figure I can do that along with being Asher’s number one fan.

Eric: … and you don’t… Dylan, I’m just wondering if… [ quickly ] you’re banking your entire future on Asher, and you don’t think maybe that’s a bit short-sighted?

Dylan: Actually, I’m near-sighted. But I wear contacts.

Eric looks as though he’s going to start crying.

He’s still carrying that exhaustion when Farkle gets in the hot seat, expressing far more “vision” than Dylan. He bullets through his presentation, speaking with confidence but also as if he’s out of breath. He’ll start sentences and then stop them or backtrack to start a different thought, nervously pulling at his hair when he gets distracted.

Once he’s finished, Eric offers him a bright smile. It’s a great plan, lots of ambition and forward-thinking, and he loves to see that. Farkle also clearly put a lot of heart into it, and Eric commends that. The future certainly isn’t worth investing in if there’s no heart.

However… he has to point out the fact that he lacks alternative options. He’s set himself up to have one path, and it’s clear that Eric is concerned about what happens if that path doesn’t work out exactly as planned.

Farkle, blankly: … what?

Eric: Again, I’m not saying that this isn’t an excellent plan. It just lacks periphery, that’s all. You want a contingency plan -- your options that you’ll consider if this one-way ticket doesn’t go as planned.

Farkle: I don’t -- this is the plan. This. There’s nothing else if -- I put a lot of hard work into this.

Eric: I know that, and I’m not saying this won’t work. I’m only suggesting that --

Farkle: I put everything into this. Everything. It’s going to -- you can’t tell me that it -- this is my future!

Eric can tell he’s not taking the conversation well. He attempts to placate, speaking delicately and stating that he’s proud that Farkle has such a sense of belief in what he was meant to do. Many people don’t have that drive, and that’s amazing. But it’s only wise to consider a contingency plan in the off chance that the dream… remains a dream.

Farkle seems as though he might actually have another diva meltdown, it’s written all over his face -- when suddenly he goes completely calm. He thanks Eric for his guidance shortly, gathering his things in a flurry. Eric encourages him to sit back down so they can discuss those options, but he claims he’s heard everything he needs to hear.

Farkle: My future is clear to me now, Mister Matthews. Thank you for your time.

He delivers the sentiment with disarmingly cool confidence. Then he spins on his heel and exits without another word. Eric looks like he’s going to go after him, but a phone call pulls him back to his desk. He assures the teacher on the other line that he’ll be right there, obviously having to go put out another fire.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Farkle walks at a swift pace away from the counselor’s office, but he doesn’t seem to have a set direction. Whereas his facade held up in front of Eric it’s starting to splinter now, his body trembling and breathing shallow. He dumps his presentation materials in the trash without looking, clearly desperate to be rid of them.

Haley: Don’t throw another tantrum.

Haley is just the first voice to address him, Farkle glancing over his shoulder as she passes him. But the glimpse of her is blurry, like it’s just out of the corner of his eye.

Charlie: Guess this isn’t turning out like you thought, huh?

Yindra: Only got yourself to blame that you’re unstable.

Harper: You’re nothing new.

Farkle flinches with every word thrown in his direction. He spins to try and catch them digging at him but whenever he turns to look they’re long gone, evading his anxious glare.

He walks faster, more sentiments from his classmates that have echoed in his head for three years following him through the hall.

Maya: Coward.

Farkle whips around as he slams right into someone -- Maya herself. She tosses him a sneer and tells him to watch where he’s going, only her expression shifts when she gets a better look at him. She hesitates, venturing another word.

Maya: Farkle… are you okay?

Farkle: I -- I’m --

He stares at her, as if just realizing she’s actually there. Then he pushes past her without further comment, jogging towards the auditorium. Maya spins to watch him take off, debating whether or not she should go after him.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

The accusations and voices are growing louder, what feels like the entire A class waiting for him in the auditorium as he stumbles in through the wings.

Lucas: Go on, keep spiraling for attention.

Isadora: As if he has a shred of decorum not to.

Clarissa: Hasn’t he had enough drama for a lifetime?

The word “enough” seems to echo particularly strong, leaving a ringing in Farkle’s ears. The jeers continue from all around him, spinning him into a frenzy.

Lila: God, you are such a disease.

Eric: Did you really think that this was going to work out? After --

Riley: Everything you’ve done?

Farkle, breathless: No… no, you forgave me.

Riley: And you think that makes a difference? You think that’s enough?

Farkle screws his eyes shut, turning away from her. He covers his ears but it doesn’t do any good, only accenting the blood pounding in his ears.

Harper: That horrible attitude of yours isn’t --

Farkle: Enough --

Stuart: And when are you going to start thinking seriously about --

Eric: Your future?

Lila: If you’re going just going to waste your existence --

Riley: Running your mouth --

Maya: Consumed with inferiority --

Angela: Do you remember what I told you, Farkle?

Jennifer: I’m sure your friends are --

Maya: Done.

Farkle: Enough --

Asher / Dylan: You don’t even know who you are!

Lucas: Should’ve known this is exactly how things would go.

Stuart: A fad.

Angela: Otherwise it’s just --

Eric: Lacks periphery --

Isadora: Fucking isolated --

Maya: Monster --

Zay: Is it finally --

Farkle: ENOUGH!

His fraught exclamation clears the chaos until there’s nothing but silence, resounding and somehow more imposing than the constant sound. Because it leaves him alone -- and he’s so tired of being alone.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Santa Fe” as performed by Newsies Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Farkle Minkus (starting at 00:22)

Farkle stands center stage, trembling, staring out into the empty house. Standing in the place he’s always felt destined to occupy, only now it doesn’t feel like he belongs there anymore. It’s a dream, nothing more, and he’s a nothing never meant to get it right.

It’s this cold realization that provokes the rawest and most spectacular performance from Farkle Minkus. As he barrels through the desperate plea to escape, it's as though we’re watching him go through the five stages of grief towards the dream that he let totally consume him for as long as he can remember.

And what it leaves behind is a broken shell -- without the dream, he decides, he’s nothing. Empty. “Trapped where there ain’t no future, even at sixteen.”

By the time he makes it to the last few lines and the volume drops to a soft piano, Farkle is back at center stage, right under the spotlight. His eyes are shining in the lights, seeming more fragile and smaller than he’s ever seemed before. As he riles himself back into the final emotional crescendo, he drops to his knees and expels everything he has left in him into those final notes.

Then he collapses in on himself, a huddled form isolated under the spotlight and otherwise surrounded by darkness. The song ends, sending us back into the quiet of the auditorium.

The only sound is Farkle’s muffled sobs, shoulders shaking as the screen smashes to black.

INT. GARDNER HOME - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

Charlie is still working on his assignment, drawing a blank as his notebook page is completely empty. How is he supposed to paint a picture of his future when he can barely paint an accurate picture of the present?

He straightens up when his father enters the room, exchanging a comfortable back and forth with him as he settles into the armchair a few feet away and opens the newspaper to read. Charlie hesitates, chewing on the end of his pen before he braves the question of asking Ambrose for advice on his assignment.

Charlie: I know we already talked about it at dinner the other night, but I’m… I’m still having trouble. I was just wondering if you had any other thoughts or... words of fatherly wisdom?

Ambrose: Well, it’s funny that you think fatherhood comes with wisdom.

Charlie cracks a smile as Ambrose chuckles at his own joke. Then he gives it some thought, clearly taking the matter seriously. It’s easier to talk about it, just the two of them, rather than with the whole family.

Ambrose: Honestly, bud, I think that the most important thing is you choose what makes you happy. You don’t want to spend your whole life doing something that doesn’t feel true to you. Do you know what I mean?

Charlie, tightly: … yeah, I do.

Ambrose gives him a smile, going back to his paper. Charlie drops his head back down to his notebook, expression growing grim. His own father doesn’t even know what’s true to him. If that’s the key to a good future, then he knows he’s damned.

Charlie swallows hard, shutting the notebook.

INT. FOSTER HOME - KITCHEN - NIGHT

Isadora is at the sink, doing dishes for the house even though she clearly would rather be out of sight and out of mind. She’s gritting her teeth as she cleans, on edge from all of the pressure of the week.

STEPHEN VAN HERSCHING brings in the last of the dishes, giving her a grateful smile as he passes them to her. In an attempt to be an attentive parent and work on repairing his relationship with Isadora that seems to have been deteriorating lately, he innocently ventures the question of how school is going. She answers shortly, explaining the gist of the week.

Stephen is interested, eagerly inquiring as to what she’s been thinking about. Only he doesn’t phrase it all that well, and it comes off more like an interrogation than soft interest. Isadora doesn’t keep her mask intact after holding it up all day, snapping.

Isadora: I don’t know, okay! I! DON’T! KNOW!

She starts to go into a meltdown, trying to escape the conversation as KAREN VAN HERSCHING enters the room to see what all the commotion is about. She incidentally also criticizes Isadora for her noise level, stating that she’ll wake her younger siblings. The whole argument turns into a huge miscommunication, the foster parents mistaking her emotion and meltdown for increasingly rude behavior whereas Isadora just really needs space.

It continues to escalate until JERICHO TORRES sees what is going on and runs to get BEATRIX TORRES. She steps in and pulls Isadora out of the situation, flatly telling the Van Herschings that she’ll handle it.

Isadora: I don’t need to be handled! Stop talking about me like I’m not here! I’m here! I’m here! I’m not invisible, I’M HERE!

Beatrix doesn’t take it personally, persisting in removing her from the room. Karen and Stephen share a loaded look.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT

Riley has forgone the future entirely and is throwing herself into her new investigation. She scours through Charlie’s social media, currently on Instagram and scrolling way back into last year to look for any sort of indication as to what’s really going on with him. She knows for a fact that he’s all about promoting false narratives, but she doesn’t see where that involves her or when the lines are drawn.

Unfortunately, she makes the cardinal error of lurking. She accidentally double-taps and likes a photo from last year, letting out a loud oh, shit as she frantically unlikes it.

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

That doesn’t stop Charlie from getting the notification, though. He’s just getting ready for bed when his phone lights up, displaying that Riley liked his photo. He frowns, opening the app and checking which photo she liked.

It’s a photo from around the time of Les Miserables, so a long way back. Even more concerning, it’s a photo of him and Zay during the phase where they were spending a lot of time together. Riley lurking is confusing enough, but someone zeroing in on him and Zay in particular…

Eric, pre-lap: Why do you think that is?

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY

Charlie is staring at the desk, seated across from Eric. He’s startled out of his daze, blinking and coming back down to Earth.

Charlie: What?

Eric: You said you were having trouble figuring out your plans. I asked why you thought that might be.

Charlie: Oh. Um, probably just the uncertainty of it. Lots to um… consider.

Charlie is not doing a good job of appearing in top shape like usual. Eric pauses, cautiously shifting gears and attempting to question if there’s anything else going on that Charlie wants to discuss. He mentions a couple of other issues his fellow students have been having in vague terms, gently finding ways to allude to possible identity issues that he might be having. He can remember being in the closet himself, and he evidently wants to help Charlie even if he’s not sure how to go about it.

Evidently, it doesn’t come across as intended. Charlie gets the message, but it only instills more paranoia in him that people are onto him. Riley and Eric are connected after all, and if they know, who else is going to end up in the know?

Eric tries to smooth things over and focus on the positive, highlighting how when Charlie graduates he’ll find a sense of personal freedom and maybe the future won’t seem so complicated to figure out. But with his anxiety, all Charlie can focus on is the here and now, and right now he knows he needs to escape. He thanks Eric for his help, getting up to go.

Flipping back to Eric, he poses a new question.

Eric: You’re absolutely sure there’s nothing you want to talk about?

As we rotate back around, it’s no longer Charlie in the hot seat, but Asher. He’s maintaining his composure, voice even and expression neutral as he confirms that he has nothing to discuss.

But Eric has had Asher as a student for three years, just like the rest of them, and he knows tells when he sees them. Asher might be shy, and has anxiety, but he’s cheery and pleasant more often than not. Usually when he’s in the chair opposite him, the conversation is enjoyable -- far from the strained, succinct exchange they’re having now.

When he rephrases the question, Asher states that he did the assignment and presented it, so he doesn’t know what else he’s expected to be discussing. In fact, he gives him the short version again, speaking slowly and clearly without tripping up once. Rehearsed, practically perfect. Eric relents, but he gives him a piece of advice before he goes that lands.

Eric: You’re well aware of your own limitations and needs, I know that. You demonstrate immense maturity, outshining many of your peers in that regard despite being younger. And you’ve never been trouble -- in fact you’ve helped prevent trouble on a number of occasions. That doesn’t go unnoticed. [ a beat ] I merely suggest that avoiding trouble doesn’t have to mean staying quiet. If you have something you think you need to say, then by all means, you should speak up. In fact, it may do more good than the harm you think it will.

For the first time all meeting, Asher’s neutral demeanor cracks. Uncertainty flashes across his features for half a second, then he pulls it back together and offers a nod.

Asher: Thanks, Mister Matthews. I’ll think about it.

Whether or not he actually will is impossible to tell.

A couple other students occupy the chair opposite him, Eric growing more flustered as they progress. It all culminates with Lucas’s second meeting, and he’s changed his approach from avoiding the topic entirely to going absolutely batshit with his proposals. He’s totally in his element too, acting like he owns the place. He’s got his feet up on the desk, arms behind his head and speaking with a breezy nonchalance.

Lucas: I looked into “space cowboy,” but as it turns out you need a degree in aerospace engineering as well as a license to boy cows, and that seems like a lot of work. So then I thought, well, if I don’t have the capacity to work, what else is there in this capitalistic hell we call society? Sure, I could probably enter myself in human cage fights and scrap to death for spare change, but I think that would hurt after a while and to be honest, I think I’d feel a bit like a piece of meat if I took up that mantle. Who would I be fighting to impress? The bourgeoisie? Hard pass.

Eric: I --

Lucas: But after some deep, probing soul-searching, I finally hit the one. [ a beat ] Trophy husband.

Eric: That --

Lucas: Now, I know what you’re thinking. To accomplish such a grand ambition, I’d have to get someone to like me. And that’s a pretty hefty task, believe me I know, but I’ve devised a work around. This is, as Dave would say, galaxy-brained thinking, Mister E. [ holding out his arms ] I’m going to put an ad on Craigslist.

He’s finally done it -- Eric Matthews is at a loss for words. He’s completely stumped as to where to take this conversation, as Lucas has driven it right off the cliffside and effectively derailed any meaningful discussion.

Lucas: My only trouble is that I cannot decide whether I should advertise myself as “seeking companionship,” or if I should just forgo that entirely and tell it like it is -- that I really don’t have anything to offer and I’ll pretty much do whatever as long as they pay me. But does that make me sound trampy? I’m white trash, yeah, but I do have standards, you know?

As much as he’s enjoying giving Eric an ulcer, Lucas’s fun comes to an end the moment the door opens behind him. His eyes widen as JACK HUNTER enters, immediately glaring at him with his feet up looking so high and mighty. He snaps at him for wasting all of their time, knocking his legs off the desk.

Jack: And get your feet off the table, who do you think you are?

Lucas: [ straightening up, sheepish ] I thought this meeting was a one-on-one.

Jack: It was. But you had your first chance, and as far as I can tell it looks like you’re fumbling this one too. So here we are, third time’s the charm. Don’t strike out.

Jack crosses his arms, standing next to Eric and watching as the counselor tentatively attempts to explain to Lucas that he brought him in because he was having difficulty getting an honest conversation out of him. He thought if he had another mentor present, he might be willing to take the discussion more seriously.

Lucas: [ under his breath ] Don’t flatter him.

Jack: Well, either way, I’m here. So let’s talk, shall we? Do you want to talk about why you’re insisting on being such a --

Eric: Thoughtful words, thoughtful words…

Jack: … why you’re making things so difficult for no reason, or do you just wanna jump right to the part where we try again?

Bravado dismantled, Lucas gets bristly as Jack forces him to actually consider his options for the future. With actual pressure to deliver, the issue becomes plain as day pretty quickly -- Lucas doesn’t want to think about the future because as far as he’s concerned…

Lucas, snapping: What do you want me to say? I don’t have any plans! [ cracking ] I have no talent and I have no drive, so what’s the fucking point? You want my future? Great, here it is -- I don’t have one!

Lucas jumps to his feet, knocking over a bunch of stuff before storming out. Eric flinches, obviously reaching an emotional breaking point himself this week. Jack frowns, clambering over the stuff on the floor to call after him.

Jack: Lucas! LUCAS JAMES!

He’s long gone. Jack turns to look at Eric over his shoulder, shaking his head in disbelief.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Loser” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Asher Garcia & Dylan Orlando (feat. AAA Juniors)

Lucas storms down the hall, passing right by Dylan leaning against the wall. He’s strumming the guitar opening to the number, only he doesn’t quite… look like himself. The discrepancy is in how he’s dressed, sporting a lot of dark hues for the kid who wears bright yellow at any given opportunity.

As the camera pans away from him, it slowly finds its way to Asher. He’s following the performance dress code, dressed completely unlike himself in dark jeans and a grungy long sleeve crew neck. However, it’s the snapback that gives it away -- they’re both channeling Lucas, some sort of weird representation of him rather than actually themselves.

Asher kicks off the song, Dylan sauntering up still playing his guitar as they stride through the halls. They both look directly at the camera, the breaking of the fourth wall creating a pointed discomforting feeling. They look away at the end of the first verse, turning to face one another with the same sullen expressions on their faces. Dave and Nate join them, dressed similarly, Dave delivering the “yo,” before they launch into the rest of the song.

From there, the general conceit of the number becomes crystal clear. Wherever Lucas is -- in class, in the booth, walking through the halls, the crew of them are right behind him echoing the same exhausted sentiment. He can’t escape it no matter where he goes, and as the song progresses, more and more of his classmates join the throng. I’m a loser, baby, so why don’t you kill me? Why don’t you kill me?!

In the bridge, as the music seems to play backwards and in warped tones, the image of the A class becomes warped as well. They’re seated along the edge of the stage, looking towards the booth, but it’s all jarring close ups and looped moments. It’s familiar, but it’s not reality. A representation of how easily someone’s perspective can be bent...

Back in the hallway, there’s one potential light moment of reprieve, when Dave seems to forget the message and changes into more positive thinking (“I’m a driver, I’m a winner,”). But Lucas glares at him, then shoves him out of frame.

By the end of the song, what feels like the entire student body of AAA is marching behind Lucas as he moves through the halls, a resounding chorus asking why no one will kill them.

It only comes to an end when Lucas finally snaps, whipping around and shouting at them.

Lucas: Oh my God, could you SHUT. UP?

Only when he spins and marches away, Dylan, Asher, and the rest of them aren’t there. The hallway is completely empty.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Lucas isn’t the only one who feels like he’s losing his mind. Charlie is on edge as he makes his way through the halls, nearly bumping into people and apologizing offhandedly.

Zay is waiting for him by his locker, noticing his odd demeanor immediately. He straightens up and asks what’s going on and if he’s okay, but Charlie isn’t focused on that.

Charlie: What are you doing here? You can’t just stand at my locker.

The statement isn’t said harshly (distractedly would be a better descriptor), but it still stings. Zay tries not to take it personally, instead trying to figure out what the hell is up with him. Charlie is over it a second later anyway, starting half of a conversation while glancing over his shoulder. He spins his locker combination but doesn’t open it, hands shaking.

Zay takes his upper arm and gets him to look at him, asking again if everything is okay. Charlie hesitates, examining him and trying to decide whether to talk about any of it. But he knows Zay is already having a rough week, and he doesn’t want to burden him with his stupid bullshit that he still hasn’t been able to get over after eight months. He’s already being unfair to him and he knows it, not to mention he fears that if he starts opening up, he won’t be able to stop.

So he deflects instead, claiming everything is fine despite every obvious sign that it isn’t. Distracted and without thinking, he leans forward and gives Zay a kiss on the cheek before jogging off to get away.

Zay is stunned, freezing and absorbing the moment. He looks around them to make sure no one else noticed, then looks over his shoulder with a bewildered frown at the direction Charlie ran in. But he’s already long gone.

INT. AAA - DRESSING ROOM HALL - DAY

Charlie darts into the dressing room hall, running right into Clarissa and Haley. They greet him, asking him how his meeting with Eric went. Clarissa notices his weird behavior first, pointing out that he’s sweating. They ask him if he’s okay and he breathlessly states he’s fine, although his delivery is not convincing.

Haley: Are you sure? You look kind of pale.

Clarissa: We can walk you to the nurse?

Haley: Or we can talk about --

Charlie: I can’t. I can’t talk -- I can’t talk right now. I’m sorry, I have to --

Charlie darts away from them, pushing deeper into the auditorium. Clarissa and Haley exchange hesitant looks, obviously wondering if they should go after him or leave him be. This week has everyone in hysterics, after all.

INT. AAA - COSTUME LOFT - DAY

Charlie doesn’t find sanctuary until he gets to the costume loft, relieved to find that no one else is around. He lets out a painful exhale and stumbles onto the platform, legs shaking so much that he basically collapses into a pile of costumes. He starts to push himself back up but then pauses, giving up and laying back against them in defeat.

He presses his palms to his eyes, trying to talk himself down from the panic. The words start as variations on telling himself to breathe and transform into a prayer, Charlie murmuring a plea for God to be with him before repeating a Bible verse he’s got memorized like the back of his hand. He continues to mutter it to himself, until he can breathe and the room stops spinning.

When he finally pulls his hands back from his face, Charlie stares listlessly at the ceiling. Wondering how he ended up like this, fearing that it’s always going to be this way.

That he’s never going to be able to properly breathe again.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Exhale” as performed by Sabrina Carpenter || Performed by Charlie Gardner

Whereas the other performances of the episode have been surprisingly grand and a bit of a spectacle, the power of this request for a reprieve is in its simplicity. There’s no fanfare, no blurred lines between what’s real and what is not, just Charlie and his soft tenor and his sheer, utter exhaustion.

The entire first verse and chorus stay solely on Charlie, slowly easing out of a close up until we’re further and further away from him, making him feel smaller than he is. The second verse takes us back into the darkened auditorium, Charlie walking behind the back curtain along the wall where all of the Class 2 x 4s are.

Every year, the freshman class adds their plank of wood to the wall, signing with their initials. It’s an AAA tradition, and it’s what Charlie focuses on as he wanders aimlessly. On “try to keep a sense of knowing who I am,” he lightly brushes his fingers over his own initials from two and a half years ago. His expression twists as he sings “I try to be an angel but I don’t think I can,” holding back tears as he slouches back against the wall to finish the verse.

He rounds out the number back in the costume loft, managing to push himself into a sitting position and propping his elbows on his knees. He forces himself to breathe as he finishes out the song, then puts his head against his knees and shuts out everything else.

Breathing, for just one second, as if that’ll be enough.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Lucas is at his locker, a storm brewing behind his eyes. Riley spots him from down the hall and jogs over to join him, seemingly happy to see him. She starts talking to him eagerly, lamenting how crazy the week has been and how relieved she is that it’s almost over.

Searching for a safe place to vent, she almost starts talking about her parents given how that has been weighing on her all week as well, but unfortunately Lucas is far from stable ground right now. He interrupts her, voice dull.

Lucas: Why are you talking to me?

Riley: … because I -- I thought we talked about this. I thought when we talked during group week --

Lucas: Well you thought wrong. You’re wasting your time, and I’m wasting everybody else’s, so don’t bother.

Riley: … what are you talking about? Lucas --

Lucas: Riley, I...

He locks eyes with her, the sentiment hanging unfinished between them. She holds his gaze, wide-eyed, waiting for him to speak.

One step forward, two steps back. Whatever he might’ve said, he chooses not to, too embroiled in the chorus of negativity echoing in his own head. Riley could do much better than him, he knows, so it’s about time she realized it too.

Lucas, half-heartedly: Just leave me alone.

He shuts his locker, marching away from her. Riley stares after him, completely dumbstruck.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Zay is in the auditorium, looking for Charlie. He happens to run into someone else on the hunt, Angela entering through the wings and greeting him. She questions whether or not he’s seen Farkle, as she has been trying to catch him all week and seems to be constantly missing him. Zay claims he hasn’t.

Whereas it seems like he wants there to be more to say, Angela thanks him and starts heading out. There’s a moment where it seems like Zay might just swallow the dismissal, like he always does, but this time something in him snaps.

Zay: Don’t you have anything you’d like to say to me?

Angela whips around, a bit surprised. She pleasantly asks if there’s something he wants to talk about, which seems to frustrate him more. At first he brushes off the question, but then doubles back and states that there is. That there’s a toxic, broken culture here at AAA, and in some ways it's her fault.

This kind of declaration is unusual coming from Zay, and Angela is understandably taken aback. She tries to defend herself but he doesn’t let her interject, growing more worked up the more he gets to speak. He laments the fact that this school is so built on favorites, and Angela has been feeding that culture since day one. She’s still doing it, making a point of enthusiastically greeting Maya and making special time to catch up with Farkle while saying fuck all to the rest of them.

Zay: Don’t you think that I might want to catch up with the teacher who was supposed to have been fostering my talent for two years? Don’t you think Yindra, or Nigel, or Haley or literally anybody else other than the Diva Twins might want a scrap of your attention?

Angela: Zay, I fully believe that all of you --

Zay: It’s easy to say you believe in someone, Miss Moore. Showing up for them is a different story. [ a beat ] And you chose who you’re backing from the first time we set foot on this stage.

He says his piece, storming past her. Angela absorbs the blow, knowing that the emotion is somewhat misdirected but still feeling the sting. She stands alone on the stage, overcome with nostalgia and wondering if the impact she left behind was all that good after all.

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY

Riley is at a limit of her own, breaking down in the chair across from Eric. This meeting has nothing to do with the future -- this is all about right now, and it’s clear that Riley is losing her ability to cope. Still, there’s nothing she hates more than crying in front of others, so she’s a sniffling, embarrassed mess as she laments the state of affairs. The tissue she’s gripping in her fist is less tissue and more so just shreds after so much crumpling and twisting.

She admits that she’s been using other people as her distraction, but the fact is she can’t keep running from it. Her life is in shambles, and now her family is legitimately falling apart. She’s been trying to keep things together, but whenever she gets one thing straightened out another just crashes out of nowhere and she can’t keep up with it. She can’t do it anymore.

Eric frowns, getting up from his desk. He pulls over the other chair against the wall, sitting next to her instead of separated behind administrator lines.

Eric: I’m swapping hats for a second here. Counselor out, uncle in. I’m very versatile, I don’t know if you knew.

Riley can’t help but laugh, although it’s weak. Eric goes on to say that he genuinely can imagine how she’s feeling. This week in particular has been a challenge unlike anything he’s felt in a long time, and there are days where he wishes he didn’t have to come in and face it.

Eric: But, and I know this isn’t what you want to hear, the only thing I can say is to keep doing your best. Keep being compassionate, even when it’s hard.

Riley: How? I mean, how do you do that?

Eric, with a shrug: It’s the only thing I know how to do. I can’t imagine moving forward without it.

An honest confession, and something that seems to resonate with Riley. And if Eric is still going after all these years, then she supposes she’ll be able to as well. Somehow.

She dabs at her eyes, offering him a smile when he reaches out and pats her shoulder. A sorely needed moment of unity amidst all of the destruction.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

Asher and Dylan have followed Lucas into the tech booth, the latter still in a foul mood. Dylan is doing his usual approach of trying to lighten the mood and echoing Lucas’s derisive commentary about how stupid all of this is, but Asher is hanging back. He’s hesitant as Lucas collapses into the rolling chair, once again bluntly claiming that his future is shit anyway, so why should he even bother?

Asher, after a moment: Well, don’t you think that’s a bit self-defeatist?

[ The booth goes quiet. Lucas glances at him, obviously surprised he’s arguing the counterpoint. ]

Lucas: Huh?

[ More quiet. Asher glances at Dylan, who is staring at him, wondering what he’s going to do next. ]

Asher: I’m just saying. By deciding prematurely that you have no future, you’re sort of inherently guaranteeing that you won’t have one. Self-fulfilling prophecy, we learned about that in English.

Lucas: You think I pay attention to anything Matthews has to say?

Asher: [ with waning patience ] My point is that if you don’t take the time to really think about what you can do, then you’re right, you won’t do anything. And I think that would be a pretty big shame.

Lucas, with a snort: Please, tell me how you really feel.

There’s an odd tension in the air that’s never been there between the trio before. Or perhaps it has, growing more and more potent the longer they’ve elected to ignore it. The dismissive comment only exacerbates it, Asher frowning. He steps past Dylan and approaches the lighting board, standing face-to-face with Lucas.

Asher: You want me to tell you how I really feel?

Lucas: If you think you can.

Asher: Fine. [ dropping his bag on the table pointedly ] I think you’re being stupid.

Lucas scoffs, but Asher isn’t done. He elaborates, pointing out all of the ways that Lucas has been sabotaging himself this entire year when it feels as though things could improve even a fraction if he just cut it out. It’s an impressive catalogue of points, being delivered expertly from someone who has clearly been paying close attention and bottling it all up.

Asher: You’re being stupid about this assignment, when if you just took it seriously you might realize you could actually do lots of things with the right resources. That’s what Eric and Jack are there for.

Lucas: Yeah, well --

Asher: You’re being stupid about Riley, who has been nothing but nice to you despite you treating her like garbage.

Lucas, defensively: Don’t talk about her --

Dylan: [ with a nervous laugh ] Guys, come on --

Asher: And you’re being stupid about the way you treat everyone else, including people who just want what’s best for you. You keep pushing, and pushing, and it’s like you want the rubber band to finally snap. [ exasperated ] Look at that and tell me it’s not fucking stupid!

Lucas: Well, what do you expect? Who are you talking to?

Asher: That’s the worst part about it! That’s what’s so frustrating is that I know you’re not stupid, Lucas. I know that, but it’s like you don’t. Either that or you just don’t care, and I don’t know which one is worse!

The can of worms has been opened, and it’s not going to be put away so easily. Dylan attempts to deescalate the discussion but it just keeps spiraling, Lucas and Asher’s voices rising the more they go back and forth. Asher complains that all they’re trying to do is support him because that’s why they’re friends, and all he’s doing is rebuffing them. Lucas finally rises from his seat, glaring at him with at least his height dominance back intact.

Lucas: Oh, you wanna know why we’re friends? [ flatly ] It’s because you wanna fix me.

Asher: What the hell are you talking about?

Dylan: Guys --

Lucas: Come on, we both know it’s true. You’re the reasonable one, put together and perfect, and I’m the trainwreck. It’s great, too, because it’s like a double win. I get you to do all this crazy and ridiculous stuff, and for five seconds you feel cool. Then you get to go home to your perfect house and your perfect family and forget about it, until the next time you want to let loose. I make you feel good about yourself.

Dylan: Hey, seriously --

Asher: Is that seriously what you think?

Lucas: [ mockingly ] It’s what I know! I am just like the most fascinating little mess for you to tidy up, to placate to that incessant, neurotic need you have to put everything in perfect order. Only now I’m not doing it right, I’m not running right anymore, and isn’t it so annoying when your perfect little toy train won’t run off the tracks exactly the way you want it to.

Asher, voice cracking: I can’t believe --

Lucas: Well, I’m sorry, spaghetti! I’m sorry that you have to settle and deal with one thing in your life that isn’t absolutely fucking perfect!

Dylan, harshly: HEY!

Dylan has moved forward, nearly stepping between them and holding out a hand to keep Lucas back. It’s as if his presence snaps him out of it, Lucas staring at him and realizing just how intense the situation has become. Dylan is looking at him with wide eyes, his anger only lasting as long as it took to get them both to hold off and having faded to shock.

Asher’s expression is harder. He’s glaring at Lucas, eyes glassy, clenching his jaw. Lucas hesitates, clearly wanting to say something, but Asher moves before he can speak. He snatches his bag off the table, clutching it close as he marches to the steps and exits out of the booth without another word.

Dylan whips around and watches him leave, mouth hanging open slightly. Lucas stares after him, expression shifting to something like hurt, before he spins away from the door and crashes back into the chair. He stays facing away from Dylan, who is still standing frozen in the middle of the booth.

Lucas: Well? Aren’t you going to go after him?

There’s a pause. Dylan blinks, returning to a state of impressive calm in spite of the chaos. He shifts back towards Lucas, eyeing him sadly.

Dylan: Yes. But I want to make sure you’re okay, too.

Lucas: [ snorting ] Why?

Dylan: … because I know you don’t mean it. I don’t know what’s going on, but… I know you didn’t mean it.

Lucas can’t look at him. He chews the inside of his cheek, picking at a hangnail.

Dylan: We’re friends, Lucas. We care about you. Asher wasn’t lying about that. [ a beat ] And when you decide you want to do something about this, we’ll be there. When you need us... we’re going to be there for you. No matter what.

Lucas has picked at the hangnail badly enough to draw blood. Dylan doesn’t wait for a response, looking at him for a moment longer before descending down the steps and leaving him alone.

Lucas curses under his breath, hiding his head in his hands.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT

Maya’s phone lights up on the bed, Katy’s picture filling the screen. Maya enthusiastically moves away from her future moodboard and reaches to grab it, picking up and excitedly greeting her. They catch up on how Katy is settling in back home in Vermont, and Maya gives her the low down on how insane the week has been but how bright her future feels. She boldly assures her mom that she’s great when she asks, repeating how well the week went for her.

But that’s not what Katy is asking, really. She knows her daughter better than she knows herself, and she knows how good she is at deflecting. So when she questions once again is everything is really fine…

The walls come down. Maya chews her lip and tries not to let the tears fall but they do anyway, the facade crumbling as she lets out a shaky “no.” Then it’s spilling out of her, all of the things that are far from going right. How it feels like her entire class is imploding, how she’s willing to do whatever it takes for the dream but being cut throat has become exhausting, how no matter how obsessively she outlines her future she’s gripped by the fear that it isn’t going to pan out. That she’s going to be a failure, just like her father and like 90% of the people who walk the halls of Adams.

Most predominantly, more than any of that, she misses Farkle Minkus.

Maya, tearfully: I know I said I was done with him, I told him we were… but I don’t know. I don’t know what I want. He hurt me, and what I’ve always thought is that when someone hurts you, you get rid of them. That’s what we did with dad, basically. [ a beat ] But then… I don’t know.

Katy: Baby girl, few people in your life are going to hurt you like your dad did.

[ Maya scrunches her face, wiping at the tears on her cheeks. ]

Katy: I wish I had the right answer, but things like this are never going to be obvious. There will always be pros and cons to every decision. But from what you’re saying to me… it sounds like you don’t want to say goodbye quite yet.

Maya lets out another whimper, pressing her palm to her eyes. When she resurfaces, she lets out a sigh and shakes her head.

Maya, weakly: I wish you were here.

Honestly, don’t we all. Katy returns the sentiment, Maya settling back into the corner of her bed and staying on the phone with her mom for a while longer.

INT. AAA - CLASSROOM - DAY

Riley and Charlie are working in the English classroom, the only two still around after school on Friday. Riley has lost her investigative fire after her conversation with Eric, treating the project as exactly what it is and nothing more.

For what it’s worth, this seems to loosen up some of the awkwardness between them. For once, they’re not both trying to pick apart one another’s every move. They actually work quite well together, diligently getting the work done and even exchanging some tired but entertaining banter while they go.

Once they declare they’re pretty close to finishing, Charlie claims he needs to go run and grab his dance duffle from the practice room where he left it. When he gets back, they should be able to wrap this thing up. Riley nods agreeably, focusing back on the final touches while he jogs out of the room.

The quiet is disrupted by Charlie’s phone, vibrating on the table top. Riley glances at it, but then forces herself to ignore it. She’s done snooping after all… only the contact name that lights up the screen catches her interest.

After a moment of indecision, Riley glances at the door before gently sliding the phone closer to her so she can read the lock screen. Over the saved background of Charlie with his younger sisters, a couple of messages from Zay sit unread on the screen.

“Hey couldn’t find you after school, you still here? you seemed a little out of it yesterday. hope everything is okay”

“Craziest thing happened with miss moore, i’ll tell you all about it. in the usual studio”

The last text message comes through as Riley is taking the phone into her hands, shock taking over her features as she reads it.

“Love you”

Riley is staring at the phone, speechless.

Charlie: What the hell are you doing?

She shoots her head up to find Charlie standing in the doorway with his duffle. He’s staring at her, mortified, and she’s mirroring his panicked expression to a tee.

Busted.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Zay glances up from his phone just in time to avoid ramming right into Harper. Both of them apologize, laughing off one another’s pleasantries. She asks if he has a second to talk, gesturing him into the black box.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Harper is calm as she explains that Angela told her about their confrontation on the stage. Zay jumps into defensive mode, claiming that he doesn’t regret what he said.

Harper: I understand, Zay. I agree with you.

Zay: Well, I -- oh. Oh, good. [ a beat ] Really?

Harper cracks a smile, sauntering back over to join him at the desks. She settles into sitting on top of one, admitting that she knows exactly what Zay is talking about and she thinks Angela knows it too. When she told her about what happened, she did not seem like she was denying her fault in the situation.

Realizing that this environment might be safer than he thought, Zay hesitates before really getting into what’s been needling him all week --and really, all year.

Zay: I just don’t get what else I’m supposed to do. It’s like, I’m doing everything I’m supposed to. I’m trying and I’m trying and giving everything I’ve got. And all I know is that when I went out there in the real world, when we put our stuff to the test, I came out on top. Kossal looked at all of us and chose me, I was identified as the top player.

Harper: Rightfully so, I’m sure.

Zay: I was the one worth acknowledging, worth accolading, worth… stepping up to be proud of. So how can that be true, but in every other way it’s the opposite? I’m still just shoved into the background?

Harper empathizes. She states she knows exactly what he’s talking about -- favoritism, especially in their industry, is as old as time itself. Not to mention the layers being a person of color adds to that struggle.

Harper: I recognize it, believe me. You work three times harder than everyone else, and no one respects it. You have to be ambitious and driven like the others, yet also be kind and well-liked and not ruffle any feathers.

Zay: Courtesy is the deadest art form at AAA, yes.

Harper: The unfortunate truth is, teachers aren’t perfect. [ off his eye roll, smirking ] Shocking, I know. But we make mistakes just as easily as students do, and unintentional favoritism is likely the most common offense. That has nothing to do with you, though, as you’ve clearly figured out.

She goes on to explain that the other unfortunate truth to an industry like theirs is that sometimes, even your very best is never enough. There are always factors you can’t control, people more talented or better connected than you, and a million reasons to write you off versus the handful of people will choose to acknowledge to uplift you. It’s not an easy world, as she’s sure he’s well aware.

Harper: I don’t know if this will make you feel better or worse, but the truth is it all comes down to endurance. How long you can take it, how long you can stick it out until it ends up being your shot. The true test of who lives the dream is who hangs on… and who gives up.

Not all that inspiring, but honest. Zay evidently appreciates it as he nods, thanking her for taking the time to listen. Despite how rough the transition has been, he does think she’s a good teacher. The comment seems to resonate with Harper, who gives him a grateful smile.

INT. AAA - CLASSROOM - DAY

Charlie breaks the ice first, dropping his duffle bag as he darts into the room. He snaps at Riley for looking through his things, snatching the phone out of her hands in a frenzy. She flinches, trying to regain her bearings on the situation. She stammers out an apology, Charlie turning away from her and reading the texts that she saw for herself.

Silence settles over the room again. Charlie stays turned away from her, no longer breathing. Riley slowly rises to her feet, not sure what to say next.

Riley: That… um. [ tentatively ] Are… are you -- ?

Charlie: You can’t tell anyone.

Charlie whips around, locking eyes with her. His eyes are wide and he’s shaking again, already on the verge of another panic attack. Only this one is bound to be worse, because the looming fear that he’s going to be found out is now a very real threat.

Charlie: Riley, you can’t. You can’t tell anyone.

Riley: I wasn’t going to --

Charlie, hyperventilating: You can’t. Riley, you can’t. You can’t tell anyone, okay, you can’t -- !

Riley: Charlie. Charlie!

Riley reaches out and takes his arms, getting him to stop cold. She holds his terrified gaze, aware of how he’s literally shaking in her hands.

Riley, sincerely: I would never tell anyone.

There’s an excruciatingly tense moment between them, Charlie having to determine whether or not he believes her. Neither of them move, neither of them breathe. You could hear a pin drop.

Then he lets out an exhausted exhale, nodding and muttering an affirmation. He slips from her grasp, stepping around her and collapsing back into his seat at the desk. Riley stays where she is for a moment, attempting to process what the hell she just learned.

Once she catches up, she spins back to look at him with his face hidden in his hands. She lightly claims she knows what he’s going through -- well, not exactly, but being pansexual definitely gives her a sense of what he might be experiencing. She knows she was lucky to not have many factors keeping her from sharing that side of herself, and she’s sorry that he feels like he does.

Riley: I can’t imagine what that must be like, trying to hide such a big part of yourself. What you might feel like you have to do, like holding things back and… [ realizing ] controlling the narrative.

The Confessions posts. Suddenly, it feels glaringly obvious.

Charlie, under his breath: Fucked. It’s all fucked

Riley frowns sympathetically, cautiously sliding back into her seat next to him. She looks at him, searching for something to say that might be easier to discuss.

Riley: So… Zay?

Charlie takes a deep breath, still hiding in his hands. But after a moment, he nods. Riley smiles.

Riley: That’s great. Honestly, that’s amazing. It’s about time someone appreciated Zay for how wonderful he is. I guess I noticed he had been happier, actually, I just wasn’t sure… [ a beat ] How long?

Charlie lifts his head, inhaling slowly. When he speaks, although he’s backed off the ledge, his voice is shaky.

Charlie: Eight months. [ softer ] But feels like longer.

Riley’s eyes widen, stunned. That long and nobody knows… but on the other hand, it’s hard not to be endeared. It’s so obvious from how delicately he talks about it how much the relationship means to Charlie.

Charlie: I know it’s so stupid. All the stress I’m putting myself through.

Riley: It’s not stupid.

Charlie: It is. Like, maybe it’s not, but it is. I’m just still trying to… I’m not sure how this is supposed to work. It’s like I’ve got this one version of reality, where like… everything is in black and white. There’s good and there’s bad and there’s black and there’s white, and it’s my job to stay clearly on one side. And I do, I do a good job of it, and that’s why the show goes on. It’s not ideal, but it’s manageable. It’s what I know, and you can settle for what you know when you don’t know any different.

Riley listens attentively. Charlie is clearly working through these thoughts for the first time, hesitating and grimacing and stammering over the words. The next statement, however, he says with breathless certainty.

Charlie: Then, there’s Zay, and it’s like… we’re in technicolor. [ a beat ] How are you supposed to go back to settling for black and white when you’ve seen the rainbow?

Riley smiles again. Her voice is soft when she tells him that it’s going to work out, and he’s going to figure it out. When he questions how she can be so certain about that, she admits that she isn’t, but it’s kind of her thing, being hopeful. As someone important reminded her, it’s really all they have.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Rainbow” as performed by Kesha || Performed by Riley Matthews & Charlie Gardner

Riley starts off the duet tentatively, transitioning pretty smoothly from their conversation (“I used to live in the darkness / dressed in black act so heartless / but now I see that colors are everything”). She carries through the first verse, smiling lightly and encouraging Charlie to relax and allow himself a smile as well. In this moment, they’re safe. It’s okay.

Charlie picks up the second verse. He brings a little more emotion to the arrangement, clearly needing the catharsis of finally getting to be open for the first time in what feels like his entire life. The two of them pass the harmonies back and forth, performing well as a duo when the situation isn’t forced in some unidentifiable way. Finally both on the same page.

As the last verse wraps up, Riley reaches forward and takes his hand. They keep their fingers joined together straight through to the end, the camaraderie obviously a relief to Charlie.

Focus hangs on the hand hold, a symbol of coming together when it feels as though everything is falling apart.

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY

Isadora swings by Eric’s office, poking her head in and a bit surprised to find him still around. When he greets her and asks what the expression on her face is for, she admits that she figured after the hell week they had, he’d be running off to escape for the weekend faster than anyone else. He certainly would’ve earned that right, at least.

Eric laughs, nodding in acquiescence. But he’s survived this week for years now at AAA, and he figures he’ll survive a handful more before retirement comes to free him. He turns the tables and gently asks Isadora how she’s feeling at the conclusion of this week -- he got the sense she wasn’t being entirely forthcoming during their structured meeting.

Isadora hesitates, then caves. She admits he’s correct, sauntering in and slowly settling into one of the chairs. He keeps the atmosphere casual, coming to lean against the front of his desk. She states that things aren’t going all that well at home, but she figures the social worker must’ve already passed that intel to him.

Eric: And the future?

Isadora: … honestly… I don’t know. I don’t even have right now worked out. I’ve been thinking about it all week, hoping that a clear path would just emerge. But instead I just fell down a lot of sinkholes instead.

Eric: Any injuries to report?

Isadora: Maybe internally. [ a beat ] But they’ll heal.

Eric: And so…

Isadora: And so… right now, I don’t know. Nigel said it was better to have lots of options rather than one or none at all, so I guess he’s right. As for which one is the right one… no idea.

Eric: And you know? That’s totally okay.

Eric goes on to state that the point of the week, despite its reputation, isn’t to get them to make definitive irreversible decisions about their prospects. It’s just to get them thinking about it, to get those wheels turning so that when that time does come around, hopefully they’ll already have a little bit of clarity.

Eric: And considering you’re Isadora De La Cruz, I am positive you’ll work it out.

Isadora accepts the compliment shyly, offering a small smile. Then she asks him how he’s faring. He had to carry everyone’s baggage even more than usual, and that can’t be fun. He seems touched by the fact that she’s asking at all, and he admits that he’s got some things going on in his own life that aren’t helping matters.

Isadora: Well, can I offer you some advice?

Eric, with a laugh: Sure.

Isadora: Whatever you’re struggling with, maybe it would help to get to talk about it with someone who can help, too. I feel better after coming in here and talking to you, so maybe you’ll feel better if you go and give yourself the same opportunity. If it’s with someone who can actually address the things you’re grappling with, even better.

Not bad advice. Eric jokes that maybe Isadora has a career in counseling in her future, which earns a snort out of her. She gets up and thanks him one last time, heading towards the door.

Eric: No… thank you.

Isadora nods, disappearing from the doorway. Eric takes a moment to breathe, glancing at the office around him. Having survived another week, for better or for worse.

INT. AAA - SHAWN’S OFFICE - DAY

Angela finds SHAWN HUNTER hidden away in his cramped office, the two of them exchanging jokes about how it’s typical for him to stay out of sight during check-in week. In his defense, he claims, his presence sometimes only adds stress. Angela can’t argue with that.

She comes to sit with him, settling casually onto his lap. She gently approaches the topic of what happened with Zay, and the conversation she had with Harper afterwards. She feels bad for having made their students feel that way, and she’s realizing that maybe the way the two of them approached working at AAA isn’t the only, or even the best, way to go about things.

Maybe, Angela concludes pointedly, it might be better to stop combatting the change and embrace it for what it’s worth. Harper might just surprise him. Shawn is reluctant simply due to embarrassment for his behavior, but Angela softens the blow by giving him a quick kiss.

Much to consider moving forward, that’s for sure.

INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

Zay is in the studio as he said he would be, working hard as usual. Not yet spooked away from his passion, Harper’s talk with him giving him more perspective than acting as a deterrent.

Charlie finally makes it there, and this time it's his turn to hang in the doorway and watch Zay dance. He crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe, expression softening and a light smile blooming onto his face. It’s the most content he’s looked all week.

When Zay spins out of a dance step he spots him, expressing relief. He asks where he’s been -- he feels like he hasn’t seen him all day. Charlie apologizes, sauntering into the room and asking what happened with Angela that he wanted to tell him about. Zay pauses, then shrugs.

Zay: Nothing. It’s not important. Miss Burgess is pretty cool, though.

Charlie: Yeah?

Zay: Yeah. Nothing like Miss Moore, but maybe that’s not the worst thing in the world.

Charlie shrugs. Seeing as they’ve come up on Friday, Zay playfully questions if Charlie has figured out his grand plans for the future. He shakes his head, clasping his hands together in front of him as he comes to stand in front of his boyfriend.

Charlie: I don’t think I can know what I’m going to be then until I like… know myself now. Or feel like I know myself more consistently than I do at the moment.

Gently, Charlie reaches for Zay’s hands. The latter hesitates, examining him curiously and well aware that they’re still in public school property despite how much this studio feels like their own safe haven. But Charlie seems comfortable with the gesture, dipping his head down to look at their joined hands.

Charlie also quietly informs him that Riley now knows, which is major news. Zay immediately asks how it went, how she reacted, but from Charlie’s calm demeanor he can only assume it didn’t go horribly. He confirms it, admitting that it wasn’t the end of the world. As for what that means for the future...

Charlie: I just hope that… I don’t know. I hope that when I get there, I’ll be… happy. Content, at least.

Zay, lightly teasing: Big ask.

Charlie: I know. Feels like it, but… [ locking eyes with him ] I know it’s possible. I know it when I feel it.

The subtext of the message goes without saying. Zay smiles, rubbing his thumbs over the back of his hands. Charlie takes it a step further, leaning forward and starting a soft kiss. It’s tentative, new for different reasons, like being in a place where potentially anybody could see. But it’s sweet and it lingers, Zay smiling when they pull apart.

Charlie presses his forehead against his, staying in the moment while he can. Holding onto the safety of this thing, this place right now, when the future remains wholly uncertain.

Eric, pre-lap: Thanks for being here with me.

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY

Eric finishes filling a mug from his coffee maker. The cup is steaming as he hands it to Jack, who takes it with a tentative but grateful smile. He admits he’s surprised Eric invited him to come do their usual tradition of ending this hell week with one another, considering how… off things have been between them.

Eric acknowledges that, admitting that he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about that. He starts to apologize but Jack beats him to it, murmuring about how he knows he shouldn’t have kept things from him. He does trust him, and he values him more than anything. There’s no one better at what he does -- this week alone is evident enough of that -- and he’s grateful that he’s there keeping the ship running with him. He regrets what he said to him, and hopes he’ll believe him when he says he’s sorry. He let his emotions get the best of him is all.

Eric, after a moment: Well, I’m not one to say that a little emotion is ever a bad thing.

And like that, the tension is gone. Jack smiles, taking a long sip of his coffee.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Lullaby” as performed by Sleeping At Last || Performed by AAA Juniors

The a capella humming of the junior class floats over the scene, underscoring the rest of the episode. It’s delicate, pretty, but the slightest bit haunting. Heavy with the context of the week.

Jack asks Eric how he thought the week went overall, in spite of the trainwreck he was there to witness himself. Eric shrugs, admitting that it’s always hard to tell. Talking about the future is never easy, and the additional uncertainty of this career path that they all think they might want doesn’t soften it.

Eric: I just hope that… I hope they realize this isn’t the end of the world. The future is so malleable, and it will take them in directions they don’t even know are options right now. I mean, look at me. I was just like them at this age. I thought I was going to be a star.

Jack, jokingly: [ behind his mug ] Still have the theatrics to prove it.

Eric gives him a look, but it melts into a smile after Jack shrugs pithily.

Eric: Did I ever think this was where I would end up? No. But life has a way of getting you where you’re supposed to be. [ looking at Jack ] And I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Jack claims he’ll toast to that. The two of them clink their mugs together, taking a sip and settling into the quiet.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - AUGGIE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Cory is tucking Auggie into bed, taking his time with it considering how the times he’ll get to do so are numbered. He gives him a kiss on the forehead, smiling when Auggie says something silly to him in response.

Riley leans against the doorframe, watching with a bittersweet smile on her face. Not wanting this to change…

INT. FOSTER HOME - NIGHT

Isadora grows tired with helping Jericho with his homework, excusing herself and skirting around her other siblings to escape to her room. Stephen and Karen watch her from the kitchen, exchanging knowing looks.

INT. GARCIA HOME - ASHER’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Asher is seated on his bed, doing his practice of journaling down all the good things that happened, then writing down the bad and crumpling it up so he can metaphorically throw it away. But he’s already got a couple of paper balls littering the floor at his feet, and he’s tear-stained as he rips another page out and crumples it.

He gives up on all of it, letting the journal and the crumpled page fall off his lap and onto the floor. Dylan emerges from the window, slipping inside the room and coming to join him.

They don’t say anything. Dylan simply climbs onto the bed and wraps his arms around him from behind, Asher closing his eyes. Dylan kisses his cheek, then his shoulder, tucking his head against it.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - LUCAS’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Alternatively, Lucas’s bedroom is cold and empty. His window is still open to the fire escape, letting in frigid February air.

EXT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

He’s not on the fire escape either. Drifting upwards, we pass a few more floors until we find him, huddled up on the roof of the building by himself. He’s shivering, but he doesn’t move. He’s looking at the city, sprawled and twinkling in front of him, but his expression is blank.

I’m a loser, baby, so why don’t you…

INT. SUBWAY STOP - NIGHT

The train doors open, Zay and Charlie emerging onto the platform. It’s still bustling for a Friday night, the two of them just another part of the crowd. Charlie takes his hand, the two of them exchanging a meaningful look before Zay begins to lead the way through the masses.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT

Maya is tweaking her future moodboard, rearranging some items and changing it up. She’s making it a little more personal rather than so cold and calculated, aiming for the future she wants to lead rather than the one she feels like she has to in order to survive the industry.

She picks up one of the photos on her bed, hesitating on it. It’s a polaroid of her and Farkle, goofing around in the auditorium during spring semester. She brushes her thumb over Farkle, obviously contemplative.

Then she looks back at the moodboard. Perhaps it will find a place in her future after all…

INT. MINKUS HOME - HALLWAY - NIGHT

STUART MINKUS approaches Farkle’s door, lightly knocking and asking if he can come inside and chat. Jennifer informed him that he passed on dinner, and hasn’t emerged from his room since, so he wanted to come see what’s going on. His mom said he seemed like he was feeling better this week? Is that the case?

Farkle doesn’t answer, so Stuart sighs and settles for hanging outside. He speaks through the door instead, struggling to find exactly what he wants to say but doing his best to get it out.

Stuart: Listen, I… I’ve been thinking a lot about that discussion we had during the holidays. The things we said to each other… I think you had some points. Smart as you are, of course you did, but… when I said what I did, I was only trying to look out for you. I know it doesn’t seem like it, considering I’m not always… you’re right. I could afford to be around more, and I guess I just needed you to confront me with the truth of that to recognize it as such. [ a beat ] I’m sorry I made you feel like I don’t notice or care, Farkle. I do. I do, and you make me proud every day. Even if I don’t quite understand it, I know you’re making strides in what’s important to you. And I want to be there for more of that. Genuinely.

A really nice sentiment, one long overdue. Still, Farkle doesn’t give him anything in return. Stuart sighs in frustration, knowing they can’t make any progress if he won’t even hear him out.

Stuart: Farkle, come on. Can we just chat about this --

INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Stuart gently pushes open the door, searching the dimly lit room for Farkle so they can talk face to face. But he’s not at his desk or on his bed, and it takes a full scan of the room for his gaze to drift to the floor.

First confusion passes over his features, then a moment later, panic. Sheer, absolute panic.

Stuart, choked: Farkle? [ bursting into the room ] FARKLE!

Stuart drops down to the ground, kneeling just in front of the camera. He immediately descends into hysterics.

Stuart: Farkle, come on. No -- Jennifer! JENNIFER, CALL AN AMBULANCE!

The last notes of “Lullaby” take us out as the screen goes to black.

Stuart, broken: Farkle!

END OF EPISODE.

IF ANY of the content in this episode has been triggering, please reach out and talk to somebody you trust and who can help you. The following links are resources including hotlines, prevention organizations, and international numbers.

Suicide Prevention: https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/

List of Suicide Hotlines: https://ibpf.org/resource/list-international-suicide-hotlines https://suicidestop.com/call_a_hotline.html

#S2 #episodes #207

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ambitionsource · 5 years

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character takeover - asher garcia & dylan orlando

So I’m gonna write with this pen, and then you’re going to use the slightly thicker one. This one? Yeah, that one. Okay. I am writing with the bigger pen. Do we always have to write with these? Well, I guess if like, you get asked a specific question and I don’t need to answer, then it doesn’t matter. Why would someone ask me a question and not you? I don’t know, I -- it was just an example. You know I don’t know things, Ash. You know plenty. ... stop, you’re making me blush.

Introduce yourself. Asher Garcia, junior A class. Dylan Orlando, junior A class, kissing expert. (Stop putting that on everything) Am I wrong?? That’s not the point

What is your creative focus? Production design I’m sure someone will tell me eventually

What from the previous school year are you most proud of? I did the production design for our spring production, Les Mis (or more fondly known as “The Miserables”). It was really challenging because we had to find a cost-effective and compelling way to complete the barricade set, i.e. one of the most iconic set pieces in the history of musical theater. So we had to find a way to pay homage to the classic, but also put our own spin on it. I also wanted to make the stage crew’s job easier when it came to transitions, so I devised a way to sort of make pieces of the set be multi-functional depending on the side but come together to build the barricade in the second act. I mean, it’s not that big a deal since people far smarter than me have done it before, but it felt cool to pull it off for myself and have it come together so well. I actually submitted samples of it to a scholarship program counselor Matthews showed me and won some money for my college fund, so that was really cool. Definitely when I managed to hit Maya Hart with a paint balloon. Oh, also, I finally beat the current standing student record for most cafeteria enchiladas consumed in one lunch period without throwing up, which I think is pretty cool. You also like… continued to grow a pretty popular Youtube channel. And also didn’t get anything below a B in second semester. Oh, yeah! But I still think the Maya paint thing wins.

What about the previous school year would you like to improve upon or change? It was really nice when the techies weren’t at war with the performers. Not because they’re like great friends, but it was just nice to be able to work cooperatively. Everyone was in a better mood. I’d like for that to continue, but just knowing how this summer has been… I don’t know. I’m not optimistic. Yeah, it sucks because Lucas was like way hyped at the end of last year but then all the shit with the Insta page happened and it’s been kind of a mess. But I would also like to see Asher perform more. Not happening. Well… we shall see...

How do you best receive praise? Um, I guess verbally. Like it’s great to hear it expressly stated to me rather than ambiguously, but at the same time, it has to be like… subtle. Like one-on-one. Or else it’s just embarrassing. Like I appreciated when Miss Moore pulled me aside after opening night of The Miserables and told me the set design was really good. She doesn’t pay much attention to the techies a lot of the time, so that was a really nice moment. You guys are getting praise?

How do you prefer to receive criticism? I think constructive criticism is important, but it has to be… well, constructive. It’s all in the delivery. Like when Lucas comes to me and has an honest conversation about my suggested set design and limitations that he thinks we might have in building or implementing it, that I can take. When the performers just shoot shots at each other, it makes me break out in hives. By mail. Written in the blood of the gods, with a feather quill. Must be nearly illegible. If it’s not sealed shut with one of those waxy things that look like Play-Doh, I’m not opening it.

You have an important engagement at 5PM. What time are you arriving at the place? Well, you have to consider a lot of factors. Where is the engagement? How are we getting there? Is it a more casual thing where you’re expected to show up late (although whoever invented the term “fashionably late” owes me emotional compensation), or would being late cause us severe penalty? Either way, I’d aim for us to get there around 4:30, and then we can wait in the parking lot if need be until around 4:50. Whenever Asher says we’re getting there.

Favorite AAA faculty? Counselor Matthews does a lot of work to watch out for us, and I don’t think that can be overstated. But still, I think I have a lot of respect for Principal Hunter. He does not have an easy job, and so much of what he does goes on behind the scenes and in this understated way where it’s not flashy so people don’t notice, but it makes a huge difference. I feel like I get how that feels, and so I hope he knows he is appreciated even though everyone is just complaining to him about how something didn’t go the way they wanted it to again. Also, he totally let Lucas derail the school for a week during the techie revolution, and that was pretty neat of him. Have you met Janitor Harley? That man is the bomb. He knows so much dirt about the school and also has all these wild stories. He has this pretty obvious scar on his eyebrow where the hair doesn’t grow, and he told Dave and me it’s because he got burned by a Russian spy in the 80s. Also, he like, cleans and stuff. I’m surprised he’s not your favorite, Asher. He cleans, yes. But I’m still sneezing during class because of all the dust in the auditorium. Oh, yeah. I forgot about your Vendetta. THERE COULD BE MITES, DYLAN.

Who are you most excited to see when school is back in session? It’ll be nice to get the whole techie crew together again. We usually do group hang outs during the summer, but things have been kind of… well, people have been busy. Lucas isn’t exactly in a social mood -- except for us -- and Isadora has been changing her social circle a little. Then Dave was in Europe for some reason. I think it was a family trip. They went to Belgium because that’s where his grandparents live. And they like made a trip out of it. I didn’t know Dave’s ancestry was Belgian. I guess. I don’t know, he just kept talking about how excited he was to eat waffles for every meal. Of course he did.

Who are you most hoping to avoid? I’m not really hoping to avoid anyone. There are people that we like… have agreed we should probably not engage with, but I’m not all that pleased about it. I think we’re being kind of rude. And Lucas isn’t making things better by refusing to acknowledge what happened. But it’ll make him feel better. I guess. Also, Farkle. After how things ended last year, I dread something else similar happening. Yeah, I think just avoiding any of that energy is priority. Farkle, Maya. I already had a stress dream about some sort of tantrum video where he tears me to shreds and the whole school sees it. It’s scary because he doesn’t know me well enough to say that stuff, and yet he hits every single insecurity. Oh, and like, Wyatt. Wyatt was expelled. Already on track, then.

What are your goals for this year, personally and professionally? I want to start putting together my design portfolio for college applications, so that will take a lot of my professional focus. Personally, I just… really hope things calm down. I know Lucas is going through a lot right now, and I want to be there for him. He’s been my best friend at AAA since the first week. I just hope things improve once the structure of school comes back into play rather than… the other direction. I just want everyone to be happy. I want us all to be chill again, and then I want to whomp Nate’s current record for most sticky notes stuck on Mister Shawn’s back without him noticing. Oh, and more performances for Asher L. Garcia!!! Again. Not happening. Mm… we shall SEE.................

#S2 countdown #character takeover #ct: dylan x asher #asher garcia #dylan orlando

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ambitionsource · 5 years

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AMBITION Season 1 ♫ “The Miserables” [ 1.09 ]

CREATED BY Esther (rapunzles) & Maggie (quincywillows)

ENTENDEZ-VOUS LES GENS CHANTENT? – Shawn tests his limits as he steps up to lead the production of the spring musical in Angela’s absence. Lingering tension over casting choices bubbles over. Deceptively rosy circumstances prompt students to seek refuge in unlikely places.

62 Minutes (16K words) || No warnings apply.

[ ← These Boots Aren’t Made For Dancing ] [ S1 Synopsis ] [ Birds of a Feather → ]

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

The episode opens on FARKLE MINKUS, standing in front of the black box classroom. He’s looking at a poster for the sophomore spring musical – Les Misérables. He glances up in front of him, tossing a look to the camera, before spinning on his heel and beginning a definitive march down the hallway.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Do You Hear the People Sing?” as performed by Les Misérables Original London Cast || Performed by AAA Sophomores

Farkle kicks off the number, beginning the ode to rebellion as he makes his way through the halls. The opening shot is done in one long, continuous movement, and as other characters join the march and the song, it builds until it’s the full sophomore class parading through the halls and towards the auditorium.

Also as they progress, it seems as though time is shifting around them. Slowly, costume pieces are adorned and changes in the background indicate the passage of time.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Upon the final chorus, the cast of the spring musical marches into the auditorium. They walk through the aisles in full make-up, hair, and costume, coming to a halt in front of the stage. In front of them, the entire set and staging for Les Mis has been erected, and we’re suddenly within days of opening night.

Bathed in the glow of the stage lights, the sophomore class looks up at their backdrop. Some look ready for the adventure, others not so much. ISADORA DE LA CRUZ is in full costume, signaling a shift from behind the scenes to center stage. LUCAS FRIAR has the signature headset around his neck, indicating a promotion for him as well.

This is the final breath before the curtain rises. But how did we get from auditions to here? We’re certainly about to find out, and in six distinct parts…

Cue title sequence.

Before each part of the episode, a black title screen gives us the name of the story, hanging for about five seconds before fading into the opening scene of the segment.

PART I: “Lovely Lady, Come Along and Join Us”

INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

Isadora is the spotlight of the premier story, taking us back to the period of auditions. She’s giving herself a pep talk in the mirror, about to audition for her first ever show. She tries to remind herself that it’s low stakes, that she’s gone this long without a role she could certainly carry on, but that doesn’t seem to do much to assuage her nerves.

Still, she’s Isadora De La Cruz, and she’s not one to back down from a challenge. Squaring her shoulders, she gears up to go and audition.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

She emerges from the stage doors, coming into the wings yet still hidden behind the curtain. Lucas is there waiting for her. He gives her a bracing pat on the shoulder and a smirk, nodding her towards the stage. Behind her, as he always is.

Returning the nod, Isadora takes a deep breath. Then, she steps out into the lights.

She can barely see ANGELA MOORE and ERIC MATTHEWS through the brightness. She squints to make them out, jumping a bit when Angela’s voice invites her to introduce herself over the speaker. She clears her throat.

Isadora: I’m Isadora De La Cruz, and I’ll be performing “I Dreamed A Dream.”

Nothing. She’s not sure what she’s expecting, but Angela is merely jotting down notes for reference. Then she lifts her head, signaling for Isadora to begin whenever she’s ready.

Another inhale. She glances over her shoulder one more time, Lucas giving her a thumbs up. Isadora lets her eyes flutter closed, centering herself.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “I Dreamed A Dream” as performed by Les Misérables Original London Cast || Performed by Isadora De La Cruz

Starting from the first verse, Isadora tentatively begins the Broadway classic. It’s a little more exposure to her potential vocal ability, which seems untapped and ready to be unleashed. Not as polished as the divas, naturally, but raw with talent and a whole lot of repressed emotion.

As the song progresses, the camera begins a slow spin around Isadora as a time lapse begins. Around her space on the stage, we see other students moving in fast motion through their auditions.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

By the time the music swells (“And still I dream he’ll come to me…”), focus shifts to outside the black box. Angela emerges to a crowd of impatient sophomores, eyeing the cast list she is clutching in her hands. She holds up a finger of patience, pinning it to the board and diving out of the way before the masses converge.

Each student approaches and gets a look at their given role, reactions pointed to how they might be spending the episode. ZAY BABINEAUX finds his name across from the role of Jean Valjean, bristling with confidence and acting wholly unsurprised. Farkle shares a similar pride at being cast as Javert, swooping the hair off his forehead and pushing back through the crowd with his chin held high.

CHARLIE GARDNER seems pretty pleased with being cast as heartthrob Marius, receiving excited pats on the back from HALEY FISHER and DARBY WINTERS. For RILEY MATTHEWS, she’s a distinct mix of happy and stunned to have been given the role of Eponine. YINDRA AMINO shrugs and offers a prideful smirk at her casting of Cosette.

NIGEL CHEY accepts enthusiastic jostling from NICK YOGI and DAVE WILLIAMS at snagging the comedic role of Thénardier. MAYA HART looks less enthused by Madame Thénardier, obviously having anticipated something different.

As Isadora approaches the list, most of the crowd has dispersed. She can’t believe her eyes when she sees her name matched with Fantine, one of the most iconic roles in the show. Slowly, a smile creeps onto her face.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Isadora knocks lightly on the door, catching Angela in the midst of packing some of her things. But she greets Isadora cheerfully, welcoming her in so long as she pardons the mess.

She doesn’t bother to ask about the packing, jumping right to her question. She asks if she was given the role of Fantine because of her mother. Not because she’s right for the role or her own talent, but because of her last name. She just wants to know the full reasoning before she initials next to her name and accepts the part.

Angela disputes such a claim, telling her that she was given the role because she gave a great audition. She has talent and earned it fair and square, and she has little doubt that she’ll do an excellent job. Angela encourages her to have half of the confidence in her performing ability as she does in her technical prowess, and she’ll be perfectly fine.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

With this assurance locked down, it’s settled. Isadora nervously initials next to her name, accepting the role and diving headfirst into the world of the performers.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Next class, the class is assembled as SHAWN HUNTER hands out their copies of the script. He gives a miniature speech about how he will be taking over as director in Angela’s temporary absence. The performers express skepticism and worry over this change, asking tons of questions such as where the hell Angela went and also what makes him think he can just step into the role of director.

Farkle pipes up louder than all of them, demanding to know whether or not Angela is going to be there for opening night. Shawn assures them that she fully intends to be present for the performances, and she made sure to wait until the last possible minute to leave so she could help prepare a majority of the materials for the show. If they just band together, the whole process will run smoothly.

So he’s choosing to approach the situation with confidence, and he thinks that they all should too. He states the encouragement with a flourish, handing out the last stack of scripts.

Dave: [ reading off the cover ] “The Miserables?”

Zay: It’s Les Misérables, you uncultured swine. Take a French class.

Too late. From then on out, the techies refer to the show as “The Miserables” the rest of the run.

As the group disperses to begin memorizing lines, Riley eagerly congratulates Isadora on her first official role. She exclaims how exciting it’s going to be to have her on the other side of the curtain. Isadora seems grateful for the enthusiasm, just as Shawn floats over and states that sentiment is precisely what he needs to discuss with her. He asks if he can borrow her for a minute, Riley backing off without complaint.

INT. AAA - DRESSING ROOM HALL - DAY

Shawn pulls Isadora aside, starting by congratulating her on her role. Then he poses his query, wanting her opinion on who he should promote to stage manager now that she’s jumping to the other side of the production.

To Isadora, the answer is obvious – Lucas. There’s no one else she can think of for the job. Shawn questions whether she believes he’s responsible enough to handle it, but Isadora has no doubts. If they put the faith in him, he’ll pay it back. He’s never let her down before.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Even still, Isadora can’t let go of the reins so easily. She shows up early to rehearsal the next afternoon to check on the crew, finding them in their usual spot in the back of the auditorium. They all greet her eagerly as she approaches, happy to see her back in their quarters.

She simply states that she wanted to check in that everything is going smoothly, to which ASHER GARCIA tells her not to worry. DYLAN ORLANDO chimes in, telling her that they’re all super proud of her for shaking things up on the other side. They want her to go forth and slay! They’ll be fine, now go show the performers what she’s made of.

Reassuring, but in some ways even more pressuring than before. Now she’s carrying the expectations of the techies on her back too, and she’s not sure how to feel about it.

INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

It’s even more overwhelming to be thrown into the midst of rehearsals without them. She’s attempting to keep up with the demands, but clearly unfamiliar with how to proceed and surrounded by people that up until a month ago had always been adversaries. So, the moment they have a moment to break from vocal rehearsal, she searches for allies.

She goes to Riley first, but it’s evident that although she’s still incredibly supportive she’s a little spaced out. Clearly, she’s got her own stuff going on and won’t be much help. Isadora turns to Maya next, having had friendly interactions with her in the past and given that she was the one who told her to audition in the first place.

However, Maya is not receptive to such advice-giving. She’s in the midst of her diva meltdown of the season, and frankly isn’t all that fond of Isadora at the moment. She says a few offhand words before floating away, rejoining Chai and Darby at the other end of the studio. Isadora tries not to let the dismissal sting, determined not to show weakness in this new territory.

She glances over her shoulder towards Shawn, who happens to be conferring with Lucas about something stage managing related. But he feels a million miles away, and he’s gone before she can even blink back to the auditorium.

Isadora stands alone in the center of the room, somehow isolated despite being in the midst of all the action.

INT. FOSTER HOME - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

That night, Isadora finds herself contemplating the only other source she can think of to reach out to – Valerie. She sits at her desk and opens and closes her phone a couple of times, obviously indecisive. She begins typing a message in response to all the previous ones she let go unanswered, explaining that she got a role in the school musical but isn’t sure she is cut out for it. She puts it all out there in text form… before hastily deleting it.

Not ready to let down those walls, but still desperately needing guidance. She gets up from her desk and flops onto her bed, exhausted.

EXT. AAA - LUNCH COURTYARD - DAY

Isadora attempts to ask Riley about it at lunch, but it’s evident that Riley is distracted. Whatever is going on in her neck of the woods, it’s obviously occupied her mind so she’s little help. She optimistically encourages her to contact her mother if that’s something she’s been considering, but it’s clear she isn’t giving the situation much serious thought.

When Isadora claims she wants to get a second opinion, Riley eagerly agrees to that as well. So it’s not clear whether she’s actually listening, or if she’s just playing support staff like the good friend she is.

Isadora: And you’re clearly not really listening.

Riley: Totally. Yeah – wait, what?

Isadora: Nothing. Simply thinking about how nice it is to have you around.

Riley: :)

In any case, she wants that second opinion. Time to revert to the safest source of thought she’s ever known – if he can spare a moment to give her the time of day.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Lucas is in the auditorium, standing at the base of the stage and looking up towards the set as Dylan and DAVE WILLIAMS work to set up the backdrop.

Lucas: Okay, let’s see the barricade backdrop.

[ Dylan and Dave frantically lower one of the curtains, pulling down a beautiful sunset of a backdrop with a twinkling castle in the distance and a cotton candy sky. A leftover from their last show, Cinderella. ]

Lucas: [ Waiting until it’s fully down, closing his eyes and forcing a smile. ] Okay, now, I meant the barricade that’s not Cinderella’s castle.

[ Dave and Dylan look up at the backdrop, wincing. Dave immediately begins pulling the ropes to bring it back up. ]

Dylan: Sorry!

Lucas: It’s fine just… [ gesturing indicatively ] Fix it.

Dylan: Aye, aye, captain.

Isadora enters just as Lucas is giving this directive, traipsing down the aisle to join him at the front. He greets her, Isadora asking if he has a second to chat. He nods, glancing back over his shoulder at them fumbling with the backdrop.

Lucas: Depending on how long this takes them, could be forever.

He nods towards the booth, leading the way back up the aisle.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

Lucas reenters the booth with Isadora close behind, settling into his usual rolling chair. He props his feet up on the lighting table and pulls a granola bar from a stash in the filing cabinet, lamenting just how many things can go wrong in one day around here. Isadora is like believe me, I know, but states that she kind of misses it.

Lucas teases her about her new role, asking her how it is to be a traitor and infiltrate the other side. She rolls her eyes and can tell he’s just poking fun, but it still stings a bit more than she anticipated. She cuts to the chase, eager to change the subject. She expresses her hesitation about talking to her mother, asking if he thinks she should reach out.

Lucas, who has never liked Valerie for how severely she fucked with Isadora’s emotions, isn’t a fan of the idea. To say the least.

Lucas: Are you kidding? No.

Isadora: No – no. You think no.

Lucas: Absolutely the fuck not. She’s never done a thing for you, what makes you think she’s going to change that tune now?

Isadora: Well… well, I mean it is her area of expertise –

Lucas: See, that’s where you’re wrong. Her area of expertise is being a shit mother, and because of her you need no explanation on how that works. You owe her nothing, and you don’t need to give her an invitation back into your life to fuck you over again. You wanted my opinion, and that’s it.

Isadora isn’t surprised by this stance from her best friend. What she’s surprised by is the fact that she’s disappointed in this response, and that’s more telling than anything else. She’s pulled from the conversation before she can think on it further, or ask about the crew and how everything is going. Shawn calls her down for call time.

Lucas, sarcastically: The spotlight awaits.

INT. FOSTER HOME - BLUE’S ROOM - NIGHT

Isadora passes through the hall when she doubles back, catching a glimpse of her foster sibling BLUE NGUYEN (17). The eldest foster sibling and most level-headed, Isadora figures it may not hurt to ask him for advice. She knocks on the door before stepping in and explaining her hesitation about Valerie, asking him what he would do.

Blue can’t speak much on his own experience with his parents, since the entire reason he’s in this foster home at all is because his parents kicked him out when they learned he is trans and want nothing to do with him pretty decisively. But he says that since Valerie clearly is making an effort, she should take advantage of that and see where it takes them. It may not end up exactly how Isadora envisions it, but at least it’ll be better than not pursuing it and always leaving a lingering what-if.

BEATRIX TORRES (16) interrupts the conversation, exclaiming that she finally found Isadora. Her brother Jericho has been asking for homework help, and she’s always better with that than she is. When she gets caught up on the topic of conversation, she offers her two cents of the fact that her mother literally can’t afford to take care of her and Jericho. Sure, sometimes she resents her for that, but at the end of the day she’s still their mom and she will take any amount of time with her she can get. And when they do spend time together, it’s hard and takes some adjustment to break out of that independence and lingering resentment, but it’s usually worth it afterwards.

She doesn’t know why Valerie gave up Isadora, but it seems to her like it may be a similar kind of vibe. Valerie’s celebrity aside. Isadora takes all of this in, contemplative.

INT. FOSTER HOME - ISADORA’S ROOM - NIGHT

Back in her room for the evening, Isadora makes a choice. Grabbing her phone, she crafts a message Valerie again. Before she can change her mind she hits send, not allowing herself to look at it anymore. She leaves her phone on the desk and out of her reach, climbing into bed.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Rehearsals are ongoing, a rendition of “Master of the House” going onstage. Isadora is in the wings, waiting for her next attempt to rehearse “Lovely Ladies” when her phone vibrates. It’s a response from Valerie, and an enthusiastic one at that. At the end of the message, it asks if they can video chat.

Isadora glances around her, making sure the number is still well in progress. Then, she steps out into the dressing room hall.

INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

Isadora checks that no one is around before stepping into the dressing room, settling into her corner of the room. She braces herself before dialing Valerie’s number, impatiently waiting for the video call to go through.

When it finally goes through, VALERIE DE LA CRUZ is looking back at us from the other side. It’s a bit of a fuzzy connection, but she’s just as stunning as ever and clearly enjoying the Los Angeles sunshine wherever she is. She immediately congratulates Isadora on her role, eagerly asking her what she thinks of the show and her rehearsal process so far.

When Isadora mentions some of the nerves she’s been having during rehearsal, Valerie empathizes. She explains that performing is hell, it’s an endurance sport, and she still gets anxiety sometimes before getting out on that stage. But the thrill of performing and the applause and that connection with the audience, that outstrips every frayed nerve by the time she opens her mouth to sing. The joy of singing is so worth it, and she knows Isadora feels it too, otherwise she wouldn’t have bothered to audition in the first place.

Valerie: Everyone says this to me all the time and it never helps, but it’s true so I’ll pass it onto you – you’re extremely talented. You’ve got an incredible voice. There’s nothing to worry about, you’re going to kill it.

Isadora, sheepishly: You’ve never even heard me.

Valerie: I don’t have to. I already know it. You’re Isadora De La Cruz, and you’re going to take the world by storm. I’ve known that since the day you were born.

Valerie claims she has to go back to rehearsal, and she’s sure Isadora does too. But she’s proud of her, and she can’t wait to hear all about it. When Isadora hangs up she’s still nervous, but there’s a bit more confidence instilled in her now. She’s determined.

Unfortunately, this is all put to the test when Maya enters the dressing room. She eyes Isadora putting her phone away, commenting that she must’ve had an important call if she needed to step out of rehearsal. She shrugs off her attempts to defend herself, basically insinuating that Isadora isn’t a serious performer if she won’t even take rehearsals seriously – a stretch, and part of the fool routine Maya has been putting on since the cast list went up.

Isadora doesn’t understand why she’s so pissy, considering she was the one who told her to audition in the first place. What, just because it doesn’t benefit her, she’s not worth the support anymore? Maya tries to brush it off, but Isadora is sharp with pointing out her hypocrisy and isn’t going to just let her diva behavior off the hook. She thought they were past that.

Still, Maya gets the last word. As Isadora heads out to get back to rehearsal, she has one last choice statement to make.

Maya: Don’t blow it, De La Cruz.

A sharp comment, coming from a girl who knows what power it wields. No one has ever called Isadora by her actual surname before, and the implications as to why it’s being used now are clear. Isadora doesn’t respond, gritting her teeth and storming out.

Maya watches her go, chewing her lip. Still, her eyes are blazing. Obviously struggling to deal with the way things are…

PART II: “Everything Has Got A Little Price”

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Maya is wearing that same expression, back in front of the cast list for the first time. Others are still celebrating around her, Zay patting Charlie on the shoulders in the background. She’s bristling, focused on how both the other divas have leading roles… and then she’s a few lines down. Past Isadora, past Riley, relegated to second fiddle.

She doesn’t initial to accept her part, storming off.

INT. AAA - SHAWN’S OFFICE - DAY

Maya launches into a tirade the moment she steps into Shawn’s office, lamenting how she’s being punished. It’s clear that Shawn isn’t surprised she’s there, but he expresses exasperated confusion over her statement as he gets to his feet.

Maya: I mean, tell me, what did I do? Why am I being punished when all I’ve done is encourage others to spread their little wings and soar and try to bridge the divides? You know, sort of. More so than Farkle, at least.

Shawn claims that the decision had very little to do with her, as he and Angela simply attempted to match the best role to each performer who auditioned. Maya scoffs, searching for another route to harpoon instead.

Maya: Then explain this, Hunter. Why did you and Miss Moore think it was a good idea to pick a show with such a limited female cast? As if their class isn’t dominated by talented women? As if men don’t already own enough of the world?

Shawn: You literally wrote Les Mis when we passed around the suggestion box. It was one of your thirteen submissions – all of which you signed.

Maya: It’s unjust is what it is. Just say you hate women, Mister Hunter. Just say you hate me, let’s get it out in the open.

Shawn doesn’t humor her bullshit the way Angela does, calling her out for the diva antics. He reminds her that it is only one show, and there will be plenty of more opportunities for her to hog the spotlight in the future. And even if it were his decision – which it’s not – he wouldn’t change the casting now.

Maya huffs, spinning on her heel and marching out. She nearly runs into Lucas in the doorway, turning some of her venom on him.

Maya: Are your two left boots incapable of walking too? Get out of my way, gothic Butch Cassidy.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Zay and Charlie are humoring Maya’s tantrum as she’s getting costumed by JADE BEAMON, continually pausing her ranting to curse as Jade sticks her with a pin. Considering Jade is their best costumer, it’s likely the pin sticking isn’t all that unintentional despite how emphatically she apologizes each time. Although, all of the gesticulating Maya is doing could be a factor.

Zay shakes his head, pointing out that this is exactly why no one likes her or Farkle. Because they so easily caught up in shit like this, so their friendship is thin. It means nothing. Maya is miffed by the insinuation, defending her attitude on the basis that she’s simply not getting her fair share – i.e., the tried and true argument of every theater kid once upon a time.

Charlie offers a more positive spin by stating that she’s just paying her dues as every showman must. Maya refutes this, impassioned.

Maya: I’m going to make it. I’m going to be the one who emerges from this school after fighting tooth and nail to stay on top, and then I’ll never look back. But I need to build credit while I’m here, and being stuck in smaller roles isn’t going to accomplish that.

Charlie argues that Mme Thénardier is actually a pretty fun role that most people would love to have, but Maya is beyond reason. She continues her rant, claiming that one day she’s going to make it and none of this is going to matter, but right now, she has to go perform this stupid musical. Zay, Charlie, and Jade watch her as she storms out, exchanging looks of amusement.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Master of the House” as performed by Les Misérables Original London Cast || Performed by Nigel Chey & Maya Hart (feat. AAA Sophomores)

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The stage getting closer to a finished set, the sophomores take their places for a truncated rendition of this rowdy and fun ensemble number. NIGEL CHEY does an excellent job with his role, really giving the performance a spark of energy.

As the performers run through it, they poke fun at the techies working on the set and attempt to pull them into the dancing. They’re particularly goofy with Lucas, who stumbles around in his struggle to avoid them and actually get work done. By the time the song comes to an end, he’s retreated to the wings in a huff, Riley waiting there and giggling at him as he fixes his clothes and adjusts his headset.

When Maya’s solo comes along, she delivers the lyrics with convincing levels of exasperation. She’s going through the motions, channeling her frustration with the casting into the role. All in all, despite her behavior, it’s an enjoyable production.

INT. CHUBBIE’S DINER - NIGHT

On the table of the booth in the back corner, Maya has spread out a flurry of flyers and pamphlets. It’s a series of programs and auditions she can put herself up for, searching for new avenues to bolster her credentials before she goes out there into the real world. In particular, a pamphlet for the coveted Kossal Summer Program seems to be in the forefront of her mind – the same summer program that Farkle mentioned in the pilot.

KATY HART interrupts her laser focus, wandering over and bringing a slice of pie with her. She places the plate down in front of her daughter before sliding into the booth across from her, asking her what she’s working on so diligently. After Maya plaintively explains her dire straits and desire to find more ways to hone her craft, Katy takes the chance to share a surprise. She was able to get opening night off of work, so she’ll be able to come see her perform!

Maya is happy, but not nearly as enthused as she could be. When Katy comments on this, Maya beats around the bush before admitting that she doesn’t know if it’s worth it considering she hardly has a part worth blowing off work for. Katy claims that she could be playing a tree and it would still be worth it to her, to which Maya states all the trees are barricade wood at this point.

Katy questions why she’s so stuck on the size of the part, pulling out the age old adage that there are no small parts, only small actors. Maya rolls her eyes at this, before going into her thought process about how she doesn’t want to take one misstep and somehow mess up her shot. She’s terrified of this becoming a pattern, of somehow becoming constantly overlooked.

Maya: I mean, look at you. You’re the most talented person I know, and no one ever even gave you a chance. You had it all, and you still had to give it up because no one would give you the time of day. How am I supposed to keep that from happening to me if techies and forgettable sopranos are getting leads over me?

Katy refutes this fear, stating that she and Maya are on very different paths. She set out to make sure Maya got to make her own path, after all. She shouldn’t stomp all over the good things that this experience might be bringing because she’s terrified of how the future might treat her. Another golden lesson from mother of the year Katy Hart…

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Farkle is hanging out on the barricade set, now nearly fully constructed. He’s half in costume, balancing his police hat on his knee and focused on a text conversation with his mother. Jennifer’s texts express the opposite sentiment to Katy – they’re doing their best to clear their schedules for opening night, but this that and the other might cause a conflict.

She follows up by stating they’ll work it out, and they will see him perform one way or another. He doesn’t look particularly convinced.

He’s pulled out of the moment when the stage door slams open, Riley barreling out of the dressing room hall. She’s obviously miffed, cheeks flushed and on the warpath. Riles Scrappy Matthews came to play!

Farkle: What’s got your feathers all ruffled?

Riley: Don’t push me. You got something to say?

Farkle: … No, ma’am.

Riley: Smart. Guess you are a genius.

Riley stomps off, leaving Farkle totally confused. He glances towards the dressing rooms where she came from. Wondering who she might have murdered, he hops off the set piece.

INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

Farkle inches his way into the dressing room, dreading seeing something he shouldn’t in return for his bold choice to enter the girls territory. Lucky for him, there’s no one there but Maya.

She’s standing at her station in front of the mirror, holding a tissue to her mouth and clearly just wrapping up a brief crying spree. She spots Farkle behind her through the mirror, jumping slightly and frantically wiping at her eyes. She tells him he can’t be in there, to which he simply responds tit for tat, given that she walks into the boys dressing room to bother him all the time.

When he tentatively attempts to figure out why she’s being so… emotional, she lashes out at him much like she’s been all through the rehearsal process. He raises his hands in surrender, telling her that she’s gotta chill.

Maya: Oh, that’s rich, coming from you.

Farkle: Believe me, bitch, I know. Why do you think I’m telling you it with such certainty? Been there. Often.

He reaches into the pocket of his pants, retrieving a handkerchief. He hands it to her, which she reluctantly takes. Farkle goes on to explain that he just got friends – including her – and the only reason is because he started trying to control the diva instincts and consider how that impacts other people. It’s that kind of behavior that makes allies difficult to keep.

Maya has always had the upper hand between the two of them, and it’s because she’s slightly more palatable in that regard. He advises her not to give up that advantage now by blowing it all on a stupid musical which they’ll have many more of before their time here is done.

After a moment, Maya relents and admits that they are probably more similar than she ever wanted to believe. Farkle gives her one more statement of camaraderie.

Farkle: I understand the notion of knowing what you’re destined to do and being willing to do whatever it takes. Trust me, I feel that in my bones. It’s not an attractive quality, but it’s what is going to put us one tier above the rest.

[ Maya dabs her eyes with the handkerchief. Farkle waits for her to meet his eyes. ]

Farkle: But first, we have to pay our dues. Whether it be as the town crier in Cinderella or the scheming, sultry wife to one of the most notorious tricks in the fabled history of the French revolution.

With that, he leaves her to pull herself back together. Maya hangs onto his handkerchief, glancing up at herself in the mirror. Not necessarily liking what she sees. Boy, if she doesn’t have damage control to do now…

PART III: “A Little Fall of Rain”

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

We’re back in front of the cast list, Riley now the one standing in front of it. She stares at her name across from Eponine in awe, unable to believe it’s accurate. But Yindra’s enthusiastic grip on her arm confirms it – it must be true. She’s playing perhaps one of the best roles, with one of the most iconic female solos of all time.

That’s a lot to take in all at once. And she needs one more bout of reassurance, just to be sure there wasn’t a mistake.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

This is how she ends up in Angela’s classroom, following the same route as Isadora in questioning whether the role was given correctly. Considering performers like Maya do exist in their class, she just wants to be absolutely certain. She was expecting something a little more soft-spoken, like Cosette. Or a chorus member. She doesn’t want to let anyone down.

Angela claims there was no mistake, and the casting was quite intentional. She thinks she’ll make an excellent Eponine. When Riley expresses apprehension, Angela sits her down and goes into more depth on the choice. As she explains it, Eponine is a tragic character, but she’s not a victim – she suffers and struggles but continues to crawl onward regardless. She makes bold choices, but also bottles up her emotions to benefit others. She puts aside her own wants to service the happiness of others, even at her own expense.

It takes a great actress to capture that complexity, and she’s sure Riley can pull it off. Considering it sort of feels like she just described her life story, Riley seems a little less uncertain than before.

As Riley heads out to go initial and accept the role, she hangs back and asks the question as to why Angela is taking an extended absence anyway. Seeing as she’s the performing student the least likely to blow an emotional gasket, Angela decides she can share the truth with her. She tells her about the auditions she is going out for which will keep her out during afternoon rehearsals, and how the conflicts just grow more pressing during dress rehearsal week. But she trusts Shawn. She’s sure it’ll be fine.

When Riley double checks that she’ll be there for opening night, Angela assures her there’s no doubt about it. Taking her at her word, Riley accepts this, wishing Angela luck. If anyone at AAA deserves to pursue their dreams, it may as well be the teacher helping them all foster theirs.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - NIGHT

Things at the Matthews apartment are… disarmingly comfortable. With the divorce paperwork in development, it seems that TOPANGA LAWRENCE and CORY MATTHEWS have managed to reach some semblance of normalcy again. No longer feeling trapped, perhaps it’s easier to maintain a cordial attitude.

In fact, in some ways it’s more than that. Weirdly enough, they seem back to the way that Riley always knew them. At ease, cracking jokes, poking fun at each other in a way that isn’t laced with harsh truth. Dinner feels normal, for once.

When Riley mentions that she got the role of Eponine in the musical, the whole family offers their congratulations. AUGGIE MATTHEWS offers her a high-five, which she takes. Topanga states that she’s proud of her, and commends her for putting herself out there. She then launches into all the steps Riley should take to prepare for the role, never one to pass up on giving guidance…

Still, Riley doesn’t mind. It’s nice to eat dinner without feeling as though the house is going to crumble on top of you at any moment. She smiles as Topanga rattles on, taking a bite of her meal and sharing a smile with her brother.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Riley is running around backstage after “Master of the House” wraps a run through, getting ready for the next number. She dodges a shoulder bump from Maya, glancing over her shoulder at her before getting distracted by Charlie. He pulls her into places with him backstage, the two of them gearing up for their next scene.

Charlie makes a couple of cracks about how it’s only fitting that they would end up playing complicated love interests. Riley fires back that if that’s the case, the roles should be reversed considering she was never the one carrying around unrequited love… but the banter is more natural and relaxed than it’s ever been between them. Both of them finally on the same page, it seems, and knowing it’s all in jest.

Riley comments that he and Zay seem to have become pretty good friends, which seems to shock Charlie at first. He asks why she would say that, and when she gives a list of very reasonable and normal observations, he relaxes. He agrees to the sentiment, stating that Zay is amazing and it’s nice to have another friend who appreciates dance and all that jazz. Riley states that it’s nice to see Zay having another friend who appreciates him for how great he is.

Charlie seconds the notion, before holding out his hand. Prepared to run on stage with her as the best-friends-yet-not-quite-lovers their roles demand. Riley returns his smile and then takes it, jumping into character as the two of them emerge from behind the set and into the lights.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - NIGHT

Riley is helping Topanga cook dinner, the two of them actually enjoying a pleasant conversation for the first time in months. Truly, the lack of tension between her parents is more of a blessing than she ever realized.

As the topic of discussion drifts to the musical, Topanga starts giving her unsolicited tips on how she improve her performance again. Despite having never been a performer herself, giving counsel is how she shows love, so that’s what she’s going to give.

When Riley claims she’s mostly going to rely on channeling emotion from the heart and empathize with the character, Topanga sort of laughs the notion down. She claims that you can’t rely on false or fictionalized foundations to give a good performance, there has to be some truth to it, doesn’t there? Don’t be silly, Riley.

Riley starts to defend herself, but Topanga has already moved onto the next ream of advice. It’s clear that when it comes to her mother, Riley definitely has trouble standing her ground.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

At rehearsal, Riley is finishing up a rehearsal of “On My Own.” Given the contradictory counsel from her mother, she’s lost in her head and the performance is weaker than it could be.

Shawn attempts to give her feedback, but he’s not as skilled a director as Angela and struggles to find the right way to phrase it. Maya jumps in with a backhanded comment of her own.

Shawn: There’s just something about it that’s not right. It needs more… you just need a little bit… I think that if you –

Riley: … so I should… ?

Shawn: … Try harder?

Maya: Sometimes it’s just about matching the right performer to the role.

Riley tries to ignore the insinuation, insisting to Shawn that she’ll try harder next time. He gives her a thumbs up, hoping that whatever that means it’ll be what the production needs. Then he shoots Maya a look, discouraging the negative commentary.

As she spins away from them, Riley lets the frustration and hurt hit her for a moment. Then she bottles it back up, marching offstage.

As she makes her way through the backstage where the techies are hard at work, she runs into Lucas as he’s in the process of helping Nate and Dave get a set piece finalized. It’s clear he’s in full manager mode, balancing a million and one things on his plate and only half-listening to what she’s saying.

They get through half a conversation about how the stage managing is going before he even looks at her, zeroing in on the fact that part of her costume is messed up. He comments on it, and before Riley can even question it he reaches forward and begins fixing it. She totally loses her train of thought as he undoes the belt around her waist and and adjusts it correctly, wholly focused on the show aspects and not even thinking about other possible implications of such a gesture. He offhandedly asks her how her rehearsal process is going, to which she sort of stammers out half a response.

Then he’s done, already jogging off to fix the next thing. Riley stands there, dumbstruck and a little out of breath. She spins around, trying to remember what she was even supposed to be doing in the first place.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - NIGHT

Riley is helping Auggie with homework, half paying attention and half reading through her script again. It’s dog-eared and got a dozen colorful tabs stuck in it, so it’s evident she’s gone over it multiple times.

Auggie manages to regain her full attention when he pops the question of whether she thinks Cory and Topanga are calling off the divorce. This catches Riley completely off-guard, prompting her to ask him what he’s talking about. He goes on to point out that they’ve been getting along great lately, and they haven’t argued in weeks. Doesn’t that mean things are going back to normal? Couldn’t that mean it’s all going to be okay?

This stuff is hard enough to grasp as a teenager – it’s clear it makes no sense to a nine-year-old and he’s desperately trying to make sense of it. Riley looks at her brother, suddenly overwhelmed and clueless with how to handle the situation. She can’t look at him and break his heart, but she doesn’t want to build false hope and lie either. So she escapes instead.

Riley: I… I need some air. I’m going for a walk.

Auggie: But dinner is in twenty minutes.

Riley: [ already out the door ] I’ll… yeah. I just need some air.

INT. APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT

The moment Riley shuts the door behind her, she begins frantically making her way down the hall. Then she realizes she has no idea where she’s going, pacing and trying to figure out where she wants to go. Anywhere but here, that’s for sure.

She pulls out her phone, scrolling through her contacts before hesitating. She only waits a second before dialing, raising the phone to her ear and waiting impatiently.

Riley: [ into the phone ] Hey, are you busy? I… I just need a second –

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - NIGHT

Lucas saunters back into the space, holding the door open for Riley to follow him inside. She steps back in with mild trepidation, obviously not sure she would ever be back here after 1.08.

As he settles into his usual chair, Lucas gestures for Riley to take the other seat he’s not planning to occupy. She does so, hesitantly, although her comfort will grow over the duration of the scene. Glancing out the window towards the stage, it’s odd but not unwelcome to see it darkened and empty. A moment of peace in a setting usually flooded with chaos.

Lucas occupies the space with deep familiarity, reaching in his file cabinet drawer. He tosses Riley a snack with a quick “think fast,” which she just barely manages to catch in time. He pulls one for himself as well, getting comfortable and pulling his manager binder back onto his lap to continue taking notes.

Riley: So… this is really it, huh? You really just hang out in here like this all the time.

Lucas: Well, you’re here too, aren’t you? You’re the one who asked to come here.

Riley: … touché.

Another stretch of silence. Riley watches him work for a second, before broaching the topic of how stage managing is going. Lucas laughs rather than answering the question, to which Riley expresses indignation. Is it so horrible of her to ask how things are going?

Lucas: Am I really supposed to believe you just dropped by here because you were dying to hang out in this musty booth with yours truly?

Riley: Well it… it’s not without its charms.

Lucas raises his eyebrows at her. Not buying it. Sensing that he’s going to see right through any excuse she makes up, Riley relents and slowly opens up about how being at home got so overwhelming. It starts with the moment with Auggie, before snowballing into a full ramble about her parents, and the whole mess of a situation, and how she just feels so trapped.

He just lets her vent, listening attentively but not commenting. When she runs out of steam, she takes a moment to collect herself before apologizing for rambling. She tends to do that. He tells her that it’s fine, before asking her what exactly she wants to hear from him. What does she want him to say? She isn’t sure, so Lucas warns her he’s just going to say exactly what he’s thinking.

First, he gives her something resembling advice and states plainly that she should seriously learn to stand up for herself. Like, yeah, keeping the peace is admirable, but it’s not her job and it’s not worth getting crushed over. Literally or metaphorically.

Riley: Well, of course you wouldn’t think so. Mister Techie Revolution.

Lucas raises his hands in surrender, taking this criticism and acknowledging it’s truth. Then he switches gears, saying what she actually needed to hear – that the situation sucks. It sucks, and he’s sorry that she has to deal with it. He has a sense of how it feels when your house doesn’t feel like a home, so he’s genuinely sympathetic.

The simple act of validation is more than enough. Already a little better than before, Riley nods along before offering him a grateful smile.

Out of things to say, Lucas claims he really does have to get back to work. Being a stage manager is a hell of a lot of work, believe it or not. Riley asks if she can hang around still – she promises to be quiet – and he allows it if she really wants to waste her evening doing nothing.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “On My Own” as performed by Les Misérables Original London Cast || Performed by Riley Matthews

Lucas goes back to his binder, Riley settling into the quiet. She tries to shift her gaze elsewhere, but it inevitably ends up drifting back to him.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Riley performs a full rehearsal of the powerhouse anthem to unrequited love, delivering it with much more emotion and passion than her first few attempts. It’s clear she’s tapped into the headspace she needed, and she’s singing from the heart rather than getting lost in her mind. Wonder where that new emotion could possibly be stemming from…

Once she finishes the number, Shawn applauds her for an obviously improved performance. She breaks into a breathless grin.

INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

As Riley floats in to grab her things for her costume change, she runs into Maya again. She has another snide comment to make, only this time Riley isn’t taking it. She’s got the adrenaline of a great performance in her veins and the advice of Lucas rattling around in her brain, and it pushes her to be bold and stand up for herself.

Riley, fiercely: Stop talking to me like that.

Maya is surprised that she’s firing back. Riley essentially pops off on Maya for the way she and the rest of the performers have treated her since she arrived at AAA, particularly the way they hand out and withhold friendship like it’s a bartering tool rather than a basic human decency with any actual meaning.

Riley: I’m sorry if you feel like you’re losing control. I’m sorry if you feel threatened, believe me, I’m quite familiar with both. But I’m not a dartboard, and I’m done taking your jabs whenever you need something to take your aggression out on. Either change your behavior – which is what I would recommend – or find someone else to play punching bag. I’m done with it!

Maya is stunned, out of words to respond. Riley grabs her costume change, bundling it in her arms and storming out of the room. On her way to pass Farkle…

PART IV: “Sweet Jesus, Hear My Prayer”

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

We’re back with Charlie in the moment he discovers he’s been granted the role of Marius, and the look of excitement on his face is genuine. He didn’t get a large role last year aside from dance captain, so he’s ready for the chance to really take center stage.

His enthusiasm only grows when Zay gives him a congratulatory hug. He returns it, patting him on the back and letting the hug linger. When they pull apart, the two of them eagerly discuss what they’re going to do for their first out-of-school hangout together. As they head back into the auditorium, they have a somewhat odd but endearing exchange about the whole thing when Charlie asks what exactly they should do.

Zay: I don’t know, stuff friends do? It’s not that deep, from what I understand.

Charlie: No, yeah, for sure. I just – I’ve only ever really hung out with Haley and Clarissa, and Yogi one time. That was weird. Oh, and friends from church. Somehow, I don’t think any of those prior experiences would be interesting to you.

Zay: God, literally, who are you. Look, I’ll just pick something and it’ll be a big surprise for you because clearly you’re not yet ready for that much Fun Responsibility.

Zay gives him a bracing pat on the shoulder, leaving him in the wings to head to the audience. Charlie watches him go, unable to hold back his grin.

INT. GARDNER HOME - DINING ROOM - NIGHT

That evening, Charlie has dinner with his family in their rather regal and well-organized dining room. While they’re rather proper and polished, it’s evident that there is genuine love between all members of the Gardner clan while they converse and share a meal. ELEANOR GARDNER (50s) guides the conversation, certainly the matriarch of the family.

Across the way from Charlie, AMBROSE GARDNER (50s) quietly enjoys his dinner and smiles along as his daughters ramble on about their days. Soft-spoken and genial, Ambrose is a gentle and loving father and it’s clear that Charlie deeply values their relationship. As his only son, it goes without saying that the feeling is mutual.

After his younger sisters, ROSAMUND GARDNER (13) and DAISY GARDNER (11) finish arguing about something inane – which Ambrose exchanges a goofy look with him over – Charlie pipes up and explains that he got the role of Marius in the school production of Les Mis.

The family congratulates him, Eleanor more than elated. She claims she’s going to brag all about it at mass on Sunday, and Ambrose notes they’ll have to let their eldest sister Agatha know so that she and her fiance John can come down from upstate to see opening night.

Charlie hesitantly questions whether or not they think Bridgette will come, and the room immediately takes on a new tension. Rosamund and Daisy exchange a look, obviously curious what their parents are going to say. Eleanor and Ambrose sort of seize up, having a tacit exchange of their own before opting to avoid the question. It’s clear this subject is a sore and tricky one in the Gardner household.

Rosamund: Why would Bridgette come home for yet another one of your musicals when she hasn’t been back since she left for college last year?

Eleanor: You know what, I think it’s time for dessert. I’m going to go grab the leftover pies from the book club – Ambrose, ice cream on yours? Girls?

Charlie allows the conversation to shift, but it’s clear he’s not satisfied with how his question went unanswered. Something about it is haunting him, not able to let it go.

INT. DINER - DAY

Charlie meets up with Zay for their first bros being bros outing, hitting up a diner in Queens where Zay lives. It’s not like Chubbie’s, which is always populated with kids from school, so it allows for the hangout to be a bit more secluded and relaxed.

Mostly, Charlie is excited to be in a different part of town and doing something totally out of his ordinary routine. He’s all smiles and enthusiasm as he digs into his diner grub, continually looking out the window at the world of Queens passing them by. Zay is amused by how dazzled he is by seemingly inane things.

Zay: Glad we got a window seat, then.

Charlie: This is so lit. Also these fries are bomb. It’s a good thing I don’t live here, or I’d never be able to be a dancer.

Zay: Yeah, I can tell. You’re like a vacuum cleaner over there.

Charlie: I’d give up my career for these fries. I’m gonna marry these fries and move to a villa out in the countryside to live out the rest of our days in blissful matrimony.

The waitress comes in to check on them, sharing a friendly and familiar rapport with Zay. He also suggests that she may want to bring an extra plate of fries out, as his meal companion is going to need some to go. As she saunters off, Charlie smiles at him. Obviously charmed.

A song comes on over the sound system that both of them, the two of them getting into a lively discussion about the artist. Zay is evidently thrilled to have the conversation, serving how much he can brighten when he has a friend who shares his interests but isn’t, well, insane.

Charlie notes how they’re making a jukebox movie musical featuring their music, and it’s coming out around the same time as opening night. In fact, he��s pretty certain it’s the same night. He pulls out his phone to search and confirm. Zay suggests that, provided Les Mis doesn’t kill them prematurely, they should go together after opening night. They know it’s going to be awful, so they can go and totally critique the shit out of it. Charlie, feeling comfortable in this new space and good about this new dynamic, says it’s a deal. They even shake on it.

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S ROOM - NIGHT

Back from his hangout, Charlie goes and makes an addendum to his well-used and obsessively organized wall calendar. He makes a note underneath the date for opening night, adding his outing with Zay. He’s clearly excited about it.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Rehearsals for the musical progress in a time lapse, progressing in a similar fashion to the way they did throughout the course of the previous stories. The costumes and lighting begin to take shape, the set rising behind the actors as the techies work their way through building it.

EXT. NEW YORK CITY - DAY

While time lapses in the auditorium, Charlie and Zay also continue to build their friendship outside the walls of AAA. They try different food stops, check out some art exhibitions, do all the things that “friends do,” as Zay so eloquently put it. They also start texting a lot more.

Through all of these interactions, Charlie truly comes alive. He’s more uninhibited and genuinely happy than he’s been all season, showing off smiles that would truly earn the “nicest smile” moniker he earned from last year’s yearbook.

INT. CHARLIE’S CHURCH - DAY

The Gardners are attending Sunday mass, chatting with other churchgoers after the main congregation. It’s evident that this is a solid and tight-knit community for Charlie and his family, and he feels relatively comfortable in their midst. Still, he’s a teenager, and the chatting of older community members can only hold his attention for so long.

He zones out, checking his phone when a text from Zay comes through. He smiles upon reading it, starting to type out a reply when his father sidles up next to him and asks what he’s got that goofy grin going for. Charlie panics, stuffing his phone in his pocket and searching for an excuse.

Charlie: No I was just – I was reading an article. Funny. A funny article.

Ambrose thinks nothing of the moment, commenting that Eleanor is bragging about him and his role in the musical again. The two of them exchange a knowing look, Charlie smiling and claiming he should probably making an appearance then. Ambrose winks, nodding him along.

Charlie weaves his way through the crowd, accepting greetings from acquaintances as he goes. When he finally joins his mother, she’s holding court with three or four other women in their 50s or older. They all evidently adore him, gushing over how talented he is and how darn cute he seems to get every time they see him. How could he possibly get cuter? Doesn’t seem possible! Naturally, this somehow seems to drift into the subject of his current single status.

Danielle: I cannot believe you don’t have a girlfriend. Sweet and good-looking boy like you, it’s a miracle you haven’t been snatched up.

Trina: Mm hm. If you were our age, when we were growing up? You would’ve been off the market in minutes.

Danielle: Seconds!

Maitland: You know, if you’re at all interested, you should definitely let me introduce you to my daughter. She never comes to mass because her violin lessons are at the same time –

Danielle: Please, he doesn’t want a sinner for a girlfriend if she can’t even attend mass properly. You should meet my granddaughter. Now there’s a match made in heaven, I’m telling you.

Eleanor, playfully: Ladies, he’s my son, not a piece of meat!

Charlie: Truly, I’m honored. But I’m sure your daughter and granddaughter have plans of their own for their romantic endeavors.

Still, the issue continues to be pushed. A couple of them ask Charlie why he hasn’t found a girlfriend yet, to which he doesn’t have an answer. He’s never even really asked himself that question, only now that it’s in his face he’s certain he should have an answer.

Danielle: Oh, don’t you just remember it? The way you feel when you’re with your first steady. All the butterflies, and the way your palms sweat. Oh, when you meet the one, you sure just know.

Charlie laughs awkwardly, claiming that when he gets that feeling with a girl he’ll be sure to follow through on it with them in mind. They all titter along with him. Oh, charming, cheeky Charlie Gardner! Ha ha ha.

EXT. MOVIE THEATER - NIGHT

Zay and Charlie are in line for the movies, comfortably discussing the other posters on display. Zay points out the promotional poster for the dance movie, reminding him of their plans to see it in just a few weeks. Charlie assures him he didn’t forget, and jokingly places a bet on whether this film will be better or worse than that one is guaranteed to be.

Charlie zones out as Zay continues the conversation, getting fixated on him as he speaks. Like, he’s paying attention to him, yet he doesn’t actually know anything Zay just said. It’s a weird moment, and Charlie has to shake it off before they head into the theater.

INT. MOVIE THEATER - SCREENING ROOM - NIGHT

Based on Zay’s bemused expression as the film unfolds in front of them, it’s clearly just as bad if not worse than the dance film is supposedly going to be. But for whatever reason, Charlie is still distracted. He keeps glancing at Zay’s reactions to the film rather than the film itself, and he’s suddenly oddly restless.

He starts to hit on every little thing that Danielle mentioned. He’s got butterflies, and he keeps wiping his palms on the knee of his jeans. He can’t seem to move on from the fact that their elbows are touching on the arm rest.

Zay leans over to whisper something to him about the movie, and this totally catches Charlie off-guard. His stomach flips, and whoa, Zay’s face is so close to his. He glances at him, then down at his lips. And the moment he realizes he did, he jumps up from his seat.

Zay: Dude, are you okay?

Charlie: I – I think I’m gonna be sick.

Charlie darts out of the row, taking the steps two at a time and disappearing. Zay gets up and starts to go after him, before a movie-goer snaps at him and tells him to get out of the way.

Zay: It’s a bad movie. What are you missing? I’m doing you a favor.

INT. MOVIE THEATER - BATHROOM - NIGHT

Charlie bursts into the restroom, sliding to the furthest stall and locking himself inside. He paces the small confines of the stall and tries to calm his breathing, and there’s a moment where he really does think he might throw up. He drops to his knees, but the nausea passes, leaving a cold sweat in its place.

Charlie collapses back against the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest. He looks at his hands, which are clammy and trembling slightly. He’s never felt like this before, and it’s clear he’s not a fan of it. Although, it was all spurred by other feelings he’d never felt before…

INT. MOVIE THEATER - NIGHT

When Charlie emerges, Zay is leaning against the wall outside and patiently waiting for him. He straightens up the moment he sees him, concern alight in his features as he asks if he’s okay. Charlie examines him, trying to get his brain to work properly again.

Charlie: I think… I think I just need to go home.

Zay: Okay. Okay, yeah, of course. Well, let me walk you –

Charlie: No I’ll just – I’m just gonna call an Uber. Thanks though.

Zay seems like he wants to argue, still worried. But he relents, claiming he’ll see him at school tomorrow anyway. Charlie returns the sentiment in a daze, already making a beeline for the exit.

INT. GARDNER HOME - KITCHEN - NIGHT

Charlie is seated at the counter, already in his pajamas and listlessly munching on toast. He’s sipping cola in an effort to settle his stomach. Ambrose enters searching for a late night snack, taking in the scene with a hint of amusement.

Ambrose: Wow, cola. For the dancer? You must really not be feeling well.

Charlie: You have no idea.

Ambrose expresses sympathy that Charlie had to leave his hangout with his friend early. When he settles into making a snack across the counter, Charlie ventures the question of whether his father knew he had feelings for his mother right away. Did he know in an instant, or did it take some time for him to come around in recognizing his feelings?

Ambrose claims he always had a tenacity towards the girls as he got older in high school.

Ambrose: I mean, it was Catholic school – you’ve seen those uniforms, right?

Charlie: Ha ha. Yeah. Totally.

That remark aside, Ambrose states that he didn’t really know how major those feelings could be until he actively started pursuing them. Like, it took having his first kiss and beginning to explore that side of things that he really started to recognize them more adeptly.

Charlie internalizes this, figuring maybe that’s the solution. He simply hasn’t been trying hard enough. If he wants to like girls the way everyone else seems to expect him to, maybe he just needs to be actively pursuing them. Then he’ll feel it, and it’ll work itself out.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “A Heart Full Of Love” as performed by Les Misérables Original London Cast || Performed by Charlie Gardner (feat. Yindra Amino & Riley Matthews)

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Lucky for Charlie, he has a kiss essentially scripted into his future for him. He and Yindra have yet to practice their kiss after “A Heart Full of Love,” so it’s the perfect excuse to put this whole thing to rest. So as the number unfolds at their dress rehearsal, never having been discussed beforehand, Charlie ends the number by taking Yindra’s face in his hands and kissing her.

From the outsider perspective, it appears very impassioned. Yindra is obviously surprised, and Riley’s jaw sort of drops from her spot on the stage, totally disrupting the flow of the number. In the wings, the rest of the class reacts accordingly. The girls are shocked, and a few disappointed.

Lucas makes a face, as does Zay next to him. He was definitely getting some vibes… but then, maybe he read the whole situation wrong. It’s unclear how exactly he feels about that.

When they break apart, it’s evident that the surprise lip lock has thrown the whole dress rehearsal into disarray. No one is really sure what to do next, so much to the point that Shawn prompts them to move onto the next scene. It’s a dress rehearsal, they can’t stop people! Lucas motivates everyone to get going, starting the next set change.

Lucas: Have you all never seen a kiss before? What are you, third graders?

Nigel, in passing: Like you’ve ever kissed anybody.

Lucas: Hey. Hey! Shut the hell up.

INT. AAA - BOYS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

Farkle and Zay are already in the dressing room when Charlie enters, somewhat dazed from his kissing expedition. They commend him on making such a bold choice, opting to just get it out of the way rather than make a big deal about it. And it sure uh, looked believable. Zay is called out for the next scene, brushing by Charlie as he goes.

But as continued conversation with Farkle reveals, Charlie is a good actor. Because it was not nearly as passionate as it seemed. Charlie states that he didn’t feel anything, clearly dejected by this admission. Farkle isn’t sure what the major drama is, but he tries to put a positive spin on it for him.

Farkle: Hey, man. I mean, it’s okay. You’re not supposed to actually feel things for your co-stars. That’s what bad actors do.

Charlie: Ha, yeah. No, yeah, totally. You’re right.

Still, Charlie isn’t satisfied. Farkle is called onto stage as well, leaving him alone to ruminate.

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Charlie crosses off another day on his calendar, leaving only one left before opening night. As he goes and climbs into bed, Eleanor appears in the doorway to wish him goodnight. She tells him how excited the whole family is for tomorrow, and that Agatha will be able to make it along with her husband. Isn’t that just lovely?

It’s nice news, but Charlie can’t concentrate. He abruptly changes the subject, blankly asking her why they don’t speak to Bridgette anymore. She’s been gone less than year, and it’s like she’s been gone forever. Just totally scrubbed out of the family tree.

Eleanor can tell this subject isn’t going to be dropped easily. She sighs, cracking the door behind her and coming to join Charlie on the edge of the bed. She treads the topic cautiously, starting off with the statement that Bridgette was always the more stubborn of the five of them. As it stands right now, she’s made… choices while away that she knows they don’t agree with. She’s made these choices of her own free will, and it’s difficult to try and level with her when she’s in a place of such sin in her life right now. It’s trying, but that’s the way it is.

Eleanor emphasizes that they still love her, and she’s still family. But choices have consequences, and right now, she’s choosing to live with those. Unsurprisingly, this does not make Charlie feel better at all. As he settles into bed and his mother bids him goodnight, it seems as though he’s going to be getting very little sleep the night before opening…

PART V: “Sweet Jesus Doesn’t Care”

INT. AAA - SHAWN’S OFFICE - DAY

As Maya is storming out, Lucas is making his way into Shawn’s office. They bump into one another, once again prompting Maya’s harsh rhetoric.

Maya: Are your two left boots incapable of walking too? Get out of my way, gothic Butch Cassidy.

Lucas raises his eyebrows as she flounces away, turning his amused expression to Shawn.

Lucas: What did you do to her? You run over her brand new puppy, or what?

Shawn: Why, you actually concerned for one of them?

Lucas: No, I was kind of hoping I could take credit for it. It’s so funny when they pop off like that.

Shawn rolls his eyes, gesturing for Lucas to come in anyway when he states he asked to see him. He explains that with Isadora now in the show as an actress, they’re going to need someone to step into the role of manager. He’d like to offer him the position. Lucas is reluctant, obviously not certain himself if he’s cut out for such a major responsibility.

Lucas: Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, I don’t even know what show we’re doing.

Shawn: … seriously?

Lucas: Look, you think I pay attention to any of this? If I could get away with wearing ear plugs all day, I would.

Valid point. Still, they need someone who can take charge and Lucas has more than proven his ability to lead. Considering he orchestrated a full-on revolution, Shawn posits he could handle one small production. After a few more words of flattery and a brief pause, Lucas agrees.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Understandably, not everyone is entirely sold on Lucas’s step into such an important leadership position. Thus, Lucas ends up opposite JACK HUNTER in his office once again, although this time he at least is not in trouble. Jack simply wants to confirm that he intends to take the role seriously, as there are a lot of stakes – and money – being poured into this production.

Jack: I’m only clarifying that you realize the importance of the position you’re being offered. I need to know that you’re going to take this seriously, because I don’t want to have to clean up the mess if you get irritated or bored with it and let it derail.

Lucas: Oh, how I do enjoy our little chats. Your confidence in me is earth-shattering.

Jack: I’m just being realistic. I know you don’t care about the show.

Lucas: Oh, no, not at all. You’re not wrong about that. [ after a beat ] But I do care about my crew. This reflects back on all of us, and I know it’s important to them. So I’m not going to let them down.

Honestly, that’s probably the one thing Jack can believe. Choosing to trust that Lucas is going to take the role seriously, he gives the green light. Lucas is officially the stage manager for Les Mis.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Lucas saunters into rehearsal, meeting with the techie brigade in their usual spot. Isadora’s absence is duly noted.

Jade: It’s weird without Isadora… [ glancing around ] and heavy on the testosterone.

But the show must go on, and so they will learn to operate without her. Dave hands Lucas a copy of the script.

Dave: It’s “The Miserables.”

Lucas: Oh, so it’s autobiographical.

Once Lucas is done snickering at his own joke, the group of them get down to business and make sure they’re all on the same page. Then, when there’s no more ducks to put in a row, Lucas exhales a pointed sigh.

Lucas: Okay. Let’s put on a fucking musical.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Little People” as performed by Les Misérables Original London Cast || Performed by Nick Yogi (feat. AAA Sophomores)

Focus jumps to the stage, where Yogi in his role as Gavroche is leading this jaunty and upbeat number. While he leads the company, the techies work on putting together the show in the background. It’s the most pointed time lapse of the episode, showing the full-on construction of the technical aspects from week one through to dress rehearsal.

As the number ends, we’re deep within dress rehearsal week. Yogi and the company are in full costume, Yogi throwing a fist in the air as he’s lifted onto the shoulders of his castmates.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Lucas is coming back late from school, dress rehearsals keeping them well into the night. As he unlocks the door and steps into the tiny entryway, it’s clear that he’s actually having a good time with how the show is unfolding. He’s even humming “Master of the House” as he makes his way in, shutting the door behind him. Yes, Lucas Friar, humming!

The moment he turns to face the rest of the apartment, however, his humming trails off. Something about it doesn’t feel quite right, and he immediately tenses up. Pieces of the scenery begin to jump out at him as his eyes adjust to the dark – some of the furniture in the living room is askew. There’s a broken object on the floor that he nearly steps on, porcelain lightly crunching underneath his boot. He kneels down to investigate, recognizing the vase that used to sit on the side table by the door now shattered on the hardwood.

Lucas takes on a more cautious stance, zeroing in on the one light glaring from the kitchen. He calls out for his mom, but there’s no answer. Getting to his feet, he apprehensively approaches the other room. The closer he gets, the slower he moves… his hand drifts to his pocket, grip closing around the switchblade…

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - KITCHEN - NIGHT

Thankfully, he doesn’t need the weapon, but that’s where the good news ends. Although we don’t see his mother, it’s clear from the way his expression shifts into panic that she isn’t in good shape. Kenneth Friar has certainly breezed through, that much is certain.

Lucas immediately calls out to her, scrambling to his knees and launching into action.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Lucas is back in his usual spot across the desk, alone in the office. He’s staring at the desktop, tapping his finger against the arm of the chair. Sort of present, but his mind is elsewhere.

When Jack steps in it startles him, causing him to jump. He clears his throat to cover to display of discomfort, locking eyes with Jack as he settles into the desk across from him. The whole thing is far more somber than usual, making it all feel even more disorienting.

Jack explains that Eric updated him on what happened. He’s grateful to hear that Grace is going to be okay. He also wants to know if Lucas is feeling okay, or is willing to share anymore about what he saw or experienced.

Lucas doesn’t respond. He keeps zoning out, currently focused on the small floral arrangement Jack has on the edge of his desk. It looks kind of like vase that used to be in his apartment…

Jack carries on, also stating that as far as he understands it, this isn’t the first time things like this have happened in the Friar household. Still nothing from Lucas. Jack sighs, changing tact instead and asking Lucas if there’s anything he thinks they can do for him.

Lucas: [ tearing his gaze from the flowers ] … Huh?

Jack, patiently: Is there anything we can do for you? Anything that you need, or that I can –

Lucas: No. [ defensive ] No, no. I’m fine. I don’t need anything.

Jack: Just, considering the circumstances –

Lucas: I’m fine. I don’t see why you would bother to ask now, since no one has ever bothered to care much before.

Jack: That’s not –

Jack begins the argument, before realizing it’s a futile effort. It’s not the time, and Lucas is in no state to be launching into debates about something so sensitive. Especially when he can hardly get him to hold a conversation. He instead opts to reiterate the point that Lucas is seen, they see him, and there are options. There are systems in place to help him, all he has to do is ask.

Lucas blinks, opening his mouth to say something. Jack hesitates, hoping it’ll pave the way for a solution. Any sort of progress.

Lucas: … I have to get to rehearsal.

He gets to his feet still in a daze, leaving the office without dismissal. Jack doesn’t fight him, but it’s evident he wishes there was more he could do.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Bring Him Home” as performed by Les Misérables Original London Cast || Performed by Zay Babineaux & Jack Hunter

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Zay starts off the sentimental, protective ballad, in full costume and dress for the show. His performance is stellar, channeling all the emotion and depth of Jean Valjean seemingly effortlessly. It’s a tough portrayal to beat.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Still, nothing is more raw than experiencing the actual emotions of such a character. It’s not the French revolution, but Jack feels a distinct sense of dread and ache as he watches Lucas saunter off, feeling helpless to actually aid him in a way he needs it.

The phrases “He’s like the son I might’ve known, if God had granted me a son,” and “Bring him peace, bring him joy, he is young, he is only a boy” ring particularly true.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Zay brings the number to a close, demonstrating his lovely falsetto.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

Lucas is asleep in his chair, having dozed off while working on last minute details for the production. Isadora pokes her head in, having come by early opening night to rehearse one last time. Her entrance spooks him and accidentally wakes him up, Isadora immediately apologizing as he reorients himself with reality. He waves her off, disregarding the apology.

The two of them hang in the quiet for a moment, before Lucas informs her cheekily that this job she does ain’t easy. She’s like oh, no kidding, but she’s smiling as she does. When he expresses some doubt in his ability to pull this off, Isadora quells those concerns and assures him that she can’t think of anyone else better suited to take over for her.

As she darts off, Lucas gives her a sentiment of good luck. Unfamiliar, but he’s trying.

Lucas: Good luck. Or break a leg. You know. Whatever they say on the other side of the tracks.

Lucas glances down at his script binder, taking a deep breath. Then he gets to his feet, descending from the booth as the rest of the cast begins to assemble for call time.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “One Day More” as performed by Les Misérables Original London Cast || Performed by AAA Sophomores

The cast launches into the famous first act finale, all preparing for the emotional whirlwind that is sure to be opening night. It ties all of the stories together in preparation for the final act, everyone singing their roles and coming together as a cast and crew.

In fact, even Lucas gets his due. On the lyric “My place is here, I fight with you,” Lucas takes the solo as he steps up with his techie crew to brave the production as a team. Dylan, Asher, and Dave all clap him on the shoulders.

With resounding gusto, we launch into the remainder of the episode.

PART VI: “The Future That They Bring When Tomorrow Comes”

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - NIGHT

Opening night is upon us! There’s nerves and excitement in the air. Outside the auditorium, family and friends alike mill about and wait for the doors to open.

INT. AAA - DRESSING ROOM HALL - NIGHT

Performers and techies are both in a frenzy, adjusting last minute details and shouting for one another to fix mic packs or tweak costumes.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

Although the chaos continues onto the stage with the stagehands, the further out into the audience one goes the quieter it gets. Riley is making her way towards the back, jogging up the steps to the technician’s booth.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - NIGHT

Riley knocks lightly before poking her head inside, surprised to not find Lucas in his usual chair. She almost turns around, but just a little bit of further investigation solves the mystery for her.

Lucas is seated on the floor in front of the electrical cabinet, leaning back against it with his arms propped on his knees and eyes closed. It’s a setting of unequivocal quiet, a sharp contrast to the hectic nature of everything else.

It also gives Riley the distinct sense that she’s disrupting said quiet. She starts to tiptoe her way out, but Lucas already heard her come in.

Lucas: You just going to leave without saying goodbye? Seems a bit harsh for you.

Riley laughs sheepishly, stepping fully into the space as Lucas opens his eyes to look at her. She asks if she’s interrupting, which Lucas waves off. He’s just taking his pre-show bout of silence, and traditionally, no one is supposed to bother him during this ritual.

Riley: I didn’t mean to – I can come back –

Lucas: It’s fine. What do you want?

Riley takes the moment to thank him for being willing to listen the other day and allowing her into his space. She also appreciated his advice, and she doesn’t know how she’s going to be able to repay him for that.

Lucas: It wasn’t a big deal.

Riley: … well, it was to me. So, thank you.

After a moment, Lucas nods, accepting the gratitude. The quiet between them lingers, and there’s held eye contact. Soft eye contact, at that.

JEFF MONROE enters, obviously surprised to find another person already in the booth. He glances between them, giving Lucas a quizzical look before asking if he should come back. Not that he really has much time given they’re opening the doors in ten minutes, and someone needs to set up the lights…

Riley clears her throat, offering him a smile and claiming she was just leaving. She wishes both of them luck, certain that they’re going to kill it. Lucas returns the sentiment as he climbs to his feet, telling her to break a leg now that he’s practiced the sentiment more than once.

After she leaves, Jeff settles into the lighting board chair while Lucas gathers his things to head backstage. It’s impossible for Jeff not to make a comment.

Jeff, teasingly: I thought no one was allowed up here during pre-show quiet.

Lucas: Shut up.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

Isadora is in the wings, peeking through the curtain to watch the audience file in. The expression on her face makes it clear just how conflicted she is about the impending rise of the curtain.

Maya finds her, coming up behind her to take a look as well. It’s looking like a full house for opening night. She starts to comment on it, but Isadora pointedly steps away from her claiming she has nothing to say to her. Maya acknowledges this, stating that she’s right, but she hopes she’ll listen because she wants to apologize.

Maya goes on to state that they are too talented to be enemies, and she doesn’t want to create a reputation for herself as a diva who can’t uplift her fellow female powerhouses. If anything, they need to stick together. She says she is certain that Isadora is going to bring the house down – not because her mother is famous, but because she’s Isadora. Surname irrelevant.

Isadora doesn’t outright forgive her, but it’s clear that the sentiment is genuine. The orchestra begins to tune their instruments, casting quiet over the audience. Maya wishes her luck, disappearing deeper into the wings to take her places.

INT. AAA - DRESSING ROOM HALL - NIGHT

Charlie is with Yindra backstage, the latter giving him a note about cooling it on the kiss from here on out. She appreciates his initiative to just get it over with, but they want to look professional, not insane.

Farkle passes them, on the phone with his parents in full costume. He’s evidently stressed about whether or not they’re going to be present, and given how he’s responding to the other end of the line it doesn’t sound good. Dylan pokes his head, searching for Farkle and insisting that he take his place for his entrance because they’re almost to his opening scene.

Farkle swallows his disappointment, handing his phone to Yogi who runs it back to the dressing room. Then he squares his shoulders, stepping back into character. Cold, removed, a man of the law. He pushes through the stage doors.

INT. AAA - DRESSING ROOM HALL - NIGHT

The full cast and crew are assembled, Shawn giving them great praise for intermission and questioning if there’s anything they all need. As the group disperses and a few performers hang back to ask him questions, Charlie is surprised when his older sister AGATHA GARDNER (22) sneaks through the doors to greet him. His face immediately brightens, and he gratefully accepts her enthusiastic hug. She knows she’s not supposed to be backstage, but she wanted to tell him how amazing he’s doing so far.

Pulling her aside and with a semblance of privacy, Charlie asks if Bridgette was able to make it or not. Aggie’s face twitches with sympathy, and she essentially has to be the one to break the news to Charlie that Bridgette… isn’t coming anywhere for awhile. She fucked it up with mom and dad, and now she has to face the consequences. Nor does she seem particularly bent on winning back their good graces. That’s just the way it is.

Predictably, this news does not make Charlie feel better. Before Aggie can reassure him, the bell rings calling the audience back for Act 2. She gives him a kiss on the cheek and tells him to break a leg, disappearing back through the doors. The mild fear in his expression after their conversation does not bode well for him.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

Farkle takes the stage for his final number, marching out into the bright lights. He scans the audience, hope still intact for the briefest of moments… before it crumbles to dust. No sign of his parents anywhere amongst the full crowd of spectators, they weren’t able to make it. Because of course they weren’t.

In the next instant, he jumps into the frantic, broken energy of his final solo downright effortlessly. Maybe, perhaps, because it doesn’t feel much like acting.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Javert’s Suicide: Soliloquy” as performed by Les Misérables Original London Cast || Performed by Farkle Minkus

Farkle completely chews up the scenery in his final scene, bringing down the house with a convincing portrayal of a man pushed to the brink. For having been in the background for most of the episode, the performance certainly serves to remind us why he’s at Adams at all.

When it comes to his “suicide jump,” Farkle simply backs his way off the set piece and allows himself to fall right into the shadows. As is typical of the production, the audience literally gasps based on how shocking the technical aspects make it appear to be.

Farkle lands safely on the cushion set up for him to catch his fall, but he looks pretty listless as he lays there in the darkness of the scenery. He stares up at the stage lights and catwalk dangling above him, not planning on moving anytime soon from the looks of it.

INT. AAA - BOYS DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT

Charlie is hiding in the dressing room, crouched up on the corner of the countertop and resting his head against the mirror. Dave startles him out of his fugue, informing him that there’s five minutes until “Empty Chairs,” so he should head to places soon. Charlie thanks him, jumping back to his feet and making sure his mic pack is still in place.

Zay enters, coming in to adjust his old age makeup for the finale. He compliments Charlie’s performance so far, stating that he’s killing it. Charlie returns the sentiment, somewhat robotically. Then, Zay says something that totally throws him off.

Zay: They hated it.

Charlie whips around to face him, uncertain. He asks what Zay means, and he quickly clarifies that he’s talking about the dance movie.

Zay: The movie. Critics hated it, it got horrible reviews. Totally panned. It’s gonna be hilarious to watch.

Charlie: Oh. Oh, yeah.

Zay: Can’t wait til after the show. Hope you’re ready for mediocrity in full-screen glory.

Charlie: Yeah. Yeah, ha ha.

Zay heads out, leaving him back in the dressing room alone. Charlie attempts to shake off this daze that has taken hold of him, but when he catches his reflection in the mirror, he gets stuck on it. He can’t seem to look away from it – it doesn’t feel like he’s looking at himself.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Empty Chairs At Empty Tables” as performed by Les Misérables Original London Cast || Performed by Charlie Gardner

Through his daze, Charlie starts a shaky and emotional rendition of the tragic final Marius solo. The sequence emphasizes his feeling of disconnect, how empty the space around him is…

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

Translating to a truly heart-wrenching performance on stage. Charlie channels Marius’s sense of grief powerfully, almost as if he can imagine what it would be like for all of your loved ones to suddenly disappear out of your life. Like he’s spent a lot of time pondering that potential end.

Tear-stained and emotionally raw, Charlie brings the performance to a close. The applause is resounding, but it sounds far away. After a moment, he gets himself to move and exits the stage.

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Finale” as performed by Les Misérables Original London Cast || Performed by AAA Sophomores

As the instrumental to the first half underscores, the sophomore class emerges from the stage doors to greet their waiting audience in the atrium. It’s a joyful, energetic time, pride and love consuming every inch of the space as parents hug their talented students and flowers are handed in every direction.

Riley is greeted by Cory and Topanga, Auggie beating them to it and giving her a tight hug. She swings him around before focusing on her parents, accepting their hugs and kisses as well as flowers. Still, she feels torn between them.

Maya runs to greet Katy, who pulls her into a swaying hug. When they pull apart, she assures her that she was the star regardless of what role she had. Maya pulls her back into the embrace.

Farkle is wandering the space, accepting compliments from other families but feeling somewhat isolated. That is, until Angela appears through the crowd to offer him sincere congratulations. It’s such a relief to see her, and when she offers him a hug he returns the embrace tightly. From the emotional expression on his face, it’s clear the attention means more to him than he could ever accurately express.

Isadora is proceeding with caution through the throng of families, eyes widening when her most excited audience parts the crowd to meet her. It’s Valerie De La Cruz, in the flesh and in all her glamour. She managed to work out her schedule so she could come see the show, and she is so incredibly proud of Isadora.

Isadora doesn’t even know how to respond. She doesn’t know if she’s dreaming, or if this is a fever hallucination, or what. Luckily, she has an excuse to run away, stating that she has to take care of something real quick…

INT. AAA - DRESSING ROOM HALL - NIGHT

Maya catches up to Riley backstage, the latter expecting a snarky comment. Instead, Maya merely congratulates her on a great performance. She tells her it makes complete sense why she got the role, and she knows she’s going to continue to bring it with their remaining shows. A bit of a 180, but not unwelcome. Riley tentatively accepts the compliment.

INT. AAA - BOYS DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT

Zay is in the dressing room with the other boys, gathering his things and in an upbeat mood. Charlie’s stuff is already gone. He says goodbye to Nigel and Yogi as they head out, just as a text message comes through on his phone.

It’s from Charlie, and just one line. “I can’t.”

Zay stares at the message, his smile fading. He starts to type a response but then hesitates, not sure what he would even say. It’s not clear how he’s taking this development.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - NIGHT

Lucas is closing up the booth for the night, considering there’s no reason for him to be out in the atrium. Still, he’s making little progress. He’s sort of in a state of shock, stunned that he managed to pull off such a responsibility without fucking it up.

He crashes into his chair, looking out towards the stage. All poised and ready for the next night. There’s something oddly charming about it.

Isadora pokes her head in, wondering if he’s just about ready to go. He explains that he’s just finishing cleaning up, but yeah, should be soon. Isadora takes this as her cue, a grin creeping onto her face as she starts lightly singing the words to the closing number. “Do you hear the people sing? Lost in the valley of the night…”

Lucas spins around to give her a look, his disdain shifting to surprise when the rest of the techies join in on the vocalizing. They all cram into the booth, poorly but happily singing the closing lines in some sort of prideful tribute to congratulate Lucas on a job well done. He shakes his head, hiding his face behind his palm and grimacing, but it’s clear he’s endeared.

Lucas, embarrassed: You all can’t sing. Stop.

They continue on anyway, smiles wide as Dave steps forward carrying a cookie cake. He drops it down onto the table in front of Lucas, bearing a cheeky message of congratulations. They’re definitely pushing his reputation, because it’s evident that Lucas is touched.

The group of them break into applause, gearing up to share in the cookie together. Now, there’s a family. As the performers take over the vocalization…

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

The finale to the show unfolds on the stage, focus being drawn to each of our main players as they sing their hearts out in the emotional conclusion. Just off in the wings, Dylan and Asher lean forward to give Lucas bracing pats on the shoulder.

In the audience, Valerie makes eye contact with Isadora. Isadora blinks, not certain that she’s seeing her correctly. But she doesn’t go away. No, she is in fact there, as she’ll come to see in just a few minutes.

Who knows what all this will bring when tomorrow comes…

END OF EPISODE.

#S1 #episodes #109

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