#and then the occasional tick of the droppers

[ambitionsource]

AMBITION Season 4 ♫ “Resolution” [ 4.07 ]

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

NEW YEAR, SPILLED TEA — Riley wrangles the whole gang together by hosting the very first holiday celebration at their apartment. New opportunities and familiar faces prompt potential big moves. With all the unsaid words on the mind and unresolved tension in the air, the Times Square Ball isn’t the only thing dropping on New Year’s Eve.

85 Minutes (48K words) || No content warnings apply.

[ ← ‘Tis The Damn Season ] [ S4 Synopsis ] [ Oh, I’m Living In A Movie Scene → ]

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

RECAP

Over a series of shots from Charlie’s “Lead Me With Your Light” church performance, mainly the entire group jumping up to clap along and cheer him on:

Nigel, voiceover: Previously, on AMBITION…

The ensemble made their way back to Manhattan for the holidays, resulting in many a happy reunion… and the occasional crossed wire. Isa couldn’t seem to balance the push away from Maya with the pull of Farkle, opting to avoid it all entirely and throw themselves into opportunities provided by their professor. But overly friendly mentorship quickly proves itself hollow and fake, and Isa found comfort in the only person they thought might understand -- even if they never envisioned they’d be at the place to do so.

Isa: I just had a weird… I really need to talk about something. If that’s okay.

Zachary: I’m all ears. What’s going on?

Even that breakthrough couldn’t have prepared Isa for a bigger surprise, though, when Farkle’s boyfriend Jordan made an unexpected trip to come join him in New York. That was a jaw-dropper -- particularly since Isa didn’t even know Farkle had one. The things you miss when you’re avoiding people…

At the same time, Riley organized a gift exchange that brought some interesting dynamics to the forefront. Though some swaps caused genuine joy and connection -- like a thoughtfully utilized Chubbies receipt pad -- others found the effort a struggle. This included Nigel, who is still grappling with the guilt of talking poorly about Riley about her back and is trying everything to make up for it now that he’s come out on the other side.

Nigel: You’re one of a kind, Riley, and I am very, very lucky to be your friend. I’m trying not to take that for granted. Thank you for letting me into your world.

Meanwhile, a minesweeper board of unfolding developments keeps all the ensemble in suspense. Jade is lingering on a job prospect away from Anya Kelly, but that would launch her all the way across the country; resentment brews within the group towards Farkle’s new beau. Occasionally, they can’t avoid the explosion, like Josh discovering his name had been unceremoniously dropped from the credits of Maya’s latest hit, “LolliPop.”

Or that no matter what, regardless of how much we will it, things rarely stay the same as we left them.

Charlie: There’s actually one more thing that I --

Zay: Charlie, this is Vanessa. My classmate at Turner. [ a beat ] And my girlfriend.

In the midst of it all, the march time goes on -- against ailing health, against prime opportunities, towards whatever it is that awaits around the corner. The only way to discover it is to let the clock tick on…

Oh, and Jack and Eric got engaged.

Eric: Will you marry me, Jackie? 

Jack: Yeah. Yes, Eric, now get up so you can kiss me.

Off the joy of their embrace, starting us off on a high note --

End of recap.

Over black:

A gentle tick, tick, tick bleeds into the soundscape. Is it a metronome, the shortening of a fuse, the last seconds of the year ticking down to nothing? Who’s to say… perhaps we’ll find out… as the alt rock opening track floats in, setting the mid-winter scene and turning the tick into a backbeat…

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “A Jagged Gorgeous Winter” as performed by The Main Drag || Performed by AMBITION Ensemble

This opening montage slots neatly in the tradition of our cast vocals creating the mood without outright performing, allowing for an energetic entry into the midpoint of the season. The vocals are seamlessly passed amongst our main ensemble, giving each cast member a solo line or two that flows back into their skilled harmony. Their voices naturally work together, regardless of what time has passed…

Even if the characters don’t share that same ease these days. Lots of things remain up in the air, many sentiments left unspoken and feelings left to linger. The year is nearly over, New Year’s Eve upon us, and the first year out of high school is half over.

Who knows what waits over the horizon on the other side?

As we cut away from the seasonal hustle and bustle of the Manhattan streets, zeroing in --

INT. HART APARTMENT - MAYA’S BEDROOM - DAY

When the first verse kicks off around 40 seconds in, MAYA HART throws open the curtains to her bedroom and lets in the light. She’s in a good mood in spite of the bleak grey of December, and it’s not hard to see why -- on her laptop screen on her bed, her release of “LolliPop” continues to garner decent numbers for a relatively unknown artist.

On her phone, Justin and Melissa are messaging her in the group chat, discussing a music video to go with it once she’s back in Los Angeles -- along with a breakout EP. Maya grins to herself.

Everything according to plan. She goes to her vanity and starts to touch-up her makeup for the day, opening the side mirror that doubles as a cabinet --

INT. JACK AND ERIC’S PLACE - BATHROOM - DAY

Just as a medicine cabinet slams closed, revealing JOSH MATTHEWS looking at himself in the bathroom mirror. To be frank, he’s looked better, and that’s saying something. Bags under his eyes; the shadows of stubble starting to creep back in. He doesn’t have any big release to be all aglow about after all. He doesn’t have a credit to his name -- literally.

Still, the show must go on. He glances at his phone on the counter, where a text message beckons him to action. He takes a deep breath and pulls a beanie on over his unkempt hair, exiting the bathroom.

INT. JACK AND ERIC’S PLACE - HALLWAY - DAY

He makes his way from the hall bathroom and back to the guest bedroom -- the one Lucas uses when he’s there -- while the camera continues to pan past him, heading to another familiar room…

INT. JACK AND ERIC’S PLACE - ISA’S BEDROOM - DAY

ISA DE LA CRUZ is still in bed, in a similar funk as Josh. Though their malaise is thanks to the other Los Angeles homecomer -- they’re flipping through old pictures of them and Farkle on their phone. When things felt easy; when the smiles on their faces felt genuine even in spite of all the bullshit either of them were dealing with at the time (and they were always dealing with something).

Before Farkle had a boyfriend. Before he had a partner who would fly all the way to New York to surprise him, when Isa couldn’t even muster the courage to really talk to him until it was too late.

Black ice and hidden lust…

What a way to end the year. Isa frowns, tossing their phone down and pulling the blankets over their head.

INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - DAY

FARKLE MINKUS is back in his bedroom, finishing getting ready and buttoning up his cardigan. He looks out the window to the brilliant view of the city from the penthouse apartment, wistful fondness taking over his features. He’s having a decent time in L.A., all things considered, but when he gets to see this city again… sometimes it’s hard to remember why he ever thought about leaving.

Well, JORDAN NELSON won’t let him forget the alternative if he can help it. He appears in frame behind Farkle and surprises him, playfully jostling his shoulders before hugging him around the shoulders. A nice, secure hold, keeping him in place… Farkle smiles, looking over his shoulder to accept a kiss.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - DAY

Although ZAY BABINEAUX could theoretically be doing the same with his partner, he’s not. He’s alone this morning, and instead of talking to Vanessa, he’s stressing about someone else. He huffs impatiently to himself as he lays on his bed on his phone, open on the same thread and rewriting a message again and again.

“catholic demon.” Charlie.

Although the message thread seems fine -- nothing weird about it to report, most of their texts last exchanged being about the secret snowflake exchange and looking forward to seeing each other then -- Zay is obviously not happy with it. As we watch him draft texts and not send them, it becomes obvious why pretty quickly.

“I was gonna tell u abt Vanessa. I didn’t mean for you to find out like”

No. Not right. He tries again.

“I’m sorry, there wasn’t really a better time to tell you. I didn’t want you to learn it like that. It’s not that I”

Still not right. None of it feels right. It all feels so stilted, and awkward, and exactly how he doesn’t want things to feel between them. And then it’s frustrating, because why does Zay even feel the need to explain himself? He doesn’t owe Charlie anything. It’s not like Charlie didn’t have other relations when he was away -- fuck, Zay basically told him to. Why is he even stressing about this?

“I was gonna say sorry but i don’t think i have to be sorry. we both knew this could happen. Maybe if you hadn’t been gone so”

Shit. It’s all shit. Zay doesn’t know what to write, because he doesn’t fucking know what he wants to even say. Or rather, what he should say, now that they’re like this. Now that things aren’t like they used to be.

Maybe there isn’t anything to say. All he can do is keep on, hold his ground, and do his best to maintain the things that matter most. He can stay the course and move on like he intends -- like he is -- and still have Charlie in his life. That was always the plan. That they’d still have each other.

So perhaps all there is to do is forget it happened, and keep moving forward.

“hey, still wanna catch up and hear abt the euro adventures. you free this week?”

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - DAY

The text comes through, but CHARLIE GARDNER doesn’t see it right away. That’s because his phone is on his bed, and he’s at his computer on his desk. He’s deeply focused on the task at hand -- scouring apartment listings. Now that the holidays have passed and the new year is right around the corner, he’s got plenty to distract him while he prepares for his delayed start.

The gap year is dwindling fast, and the real world is waiting for him to catch up.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - DAY

RILEY MATTHEWS is equally distracted, in full-on planner mode. She’s on the phone as she paces the living room, two simultaneous projects keeping her attention at once -- polling and prospects for Jack’s election campaign, and party details for a New Year’s gathering. She’s so consumed with both organizational activities, her Ghost: The Musical libretto is long forgotten slung over the arm of the couch.

She does pause her work long enough to say goodbye to LUCAS JAMES FRIAR, who comes breezing out of her room in a brisk path to the door. He’s on his way to work, having been at the new job with Evelyn Rand for about a week now. He’s done his best to dress the part, sporting one of the nicest button downs he owns and a professional-looking pair of brown pants it looks like he may have borrowed from Jack.

Riley pulls the phone down from her ear momentarily to give him a warm smile and sweet kiss, wishing him luck and a good day. Lucas slings his lanyard around his neck and heads out, leaving Riley to her many different forms of business.

On her laptop screen, we can see a different email is up on her account -- her confirmed course schedule for next semester at NYU. Though it’s hardly, far from, her focus.

INT. CHEY APARTMENT - NIGEL’S BEDROOM - DAY

The same can be said for NIGEL CHEY, who has all but completely avoided looking at his course schedule. He doesn’t feel much desire to, and he’s got more interesting things to immerse himself in instead. Right now, that’s the Shakespeare Discord chat Chai invited him to join. It’s a lively bunch of folks, peers seemingly much more his speed, and he’s smiling as he takes a break from organizing his bookshelf to read the conversation. Right now, they’re having a heated debate about the role of secrecy and deception in Romeo & Juliet.

Yeah, definitely his kind of people. Nigel finishes putting one of his books back on the shelf -- his worn copy of Hamlet -- then settles on the floor against his shelf to dive into the conversation, starting to type a response of his own.

As we pan rightward, through the wall…

INT. BEAMON HOME - JADE’S BEDROOM - DAY

We slide into another bedroom, where JADE BEAMON is pacing the floor. She has a notebook in hand and is muttering to herself under her breath -- practicing responses to interview questions. The header line of her notebook page reads “Pinhead Threads Talking Points.”

She seems nervous about the impending interview, but excited too. There’s a spark back in her eyes that had long since faded while at Anya Kelly’s.

INT. YINDRA’S BEDROOM - DAY

The same excitement should be spurred from the email we see on Yindra’s phone, from the Haunt agent Reese Dalton King. It notes that he does have a few projects he thinks she might be a good fit for, and he’s working on discussing with the agency. No official word yet, but he hopes to have some promising news for her very soon. Then, they can talk details.

And yet, YINDRA AMINO doesn’t seem enthused as she skims the email. Once the initial rush of hearing back at all wears off, a certain familiar melancholy sinks in. Yes, the idea of promising news seems great… but how long has she been waiting for that in the last few months? How long has “hopes to” turned into a big, fat nothing?

She can’t get her hopes up. Not again. She isn’t sure she has any left to raise.

So for now, she hides. She shuts her laptop, sending the screen to black again as the final guitar winds down.

Cue title sequence.

INT. HART APARTMENT - DAY

Maya emerges from her room, greeting KATY HART with enthusiasm as she comes to join her in the kitchen. She offers to brew them both some peppermint tea. Katy isn’t going to say no, slightly amused at her daughter’s buoyant attitude.

Katy: You’ve never been much of a morning person, so it’s just a bit funny. Though I sure can understand why.

Maya smiles knowingly. How could she not be in a great mood, when everything is going so well? Katy asks how the team in Los Angeles is feeling about it, which Maya can only report good news.

Well… not only. She does pause for a moment.

Maya: I haven’t heard back from Josh, though.

Katy: Josh?

Maya: The producer. Of the song. I texted him after it dropped, you know, to commiserate, but he never responded.

Katy: You haven’t mentioned him before. I thought Justin and Melissa were your team?

Maya: They are. Josh is -- it’s kind of complicated, but he’s their junior producer. So he like, produces, but he’s also basically an assistant.

Katy: Oh, I see.

Maya: But he was the one who helped me craft this song. We did it over Thanksgiving. Justin and Melissa helped me polish it up before release, obviously, but it was definitely a collab between the two of us. That’s why I thought he’d be…

Excited? Keen to do more, which Maya is surprised she kind of wants too? At least a little bit grateful, since she finally got his name on the map?

But whatever. He’s probably busy, or if not, just being moody like he’s already proven he can be. Maya shrugs, claiming the song is a success either way. She tells her mom about how Justin and Melissa are already workshopping music video concept ideas, and that they want to work on the EP as soon as she’s back. So she wants to dedicate this last week and some change while here to getting the creative juices flowing and writing some strong material. She wants to be able to hand Justin and Melissa a stack full of knockouts when she gets back.

For that, she wants some of Katy’s wisdom. She already has pop excellence on her resume, given the success of her first two singles, but she isn’t sure what direction she should go next. She wants to prove that she’s well-rounded -- maybe a Broadway or vocal cover to finish off the set, but she also wants to show off her songwriting range. She doesn’t want to be an EP full of one-hit wonders. Whatever she manages to accomplish with this first project, she wants it to be a stepping stone -- or better, a spring board -- to the next big thing.

Katy thinks on that, claiming that she has little doubt Maya will be able to show off an impressive range. But if she wants to do that, she’ll want to deliver a range of concepts. The best artists, in her opinion, can fit any mood and master every emotion. Being boppy is great, sure, but it isn’t what usually catapults you to success. For every ten “Fridays,” there’s a “driver’s license” that totally dominates the cultural landscape. For each of Taylor Swift’s “Shake It Off” and “Look What You Made Me Do,” there’s a “Dear John” or “All Too Well.”

Basically, if Maya wants to round out her portfolio, she might want to try digging into the tougher emotions that roil our hearts. Emotional anthems are as essential to stardom as a viral pop banger. That’s where the true story -- and true impressions -- lay hidden for us to discover.

Maya contemplates that, thoughtful while she gets the kettle going.

INT. BEAMON HOME - JADE’S BEDROOM - DAY

Jade is having her video interview with a couple of the designers from Pinhead Threads, and based on the easy rapport and smile on her face, it seems to be going well. Even though she’s nervous, she does a great job of hiding it, coming off composed, competent, and personable.

The only thing that would give her away is a fidget that the interviewers can’t see -- underneath the desk, she’s turning the Ophelia pin Nigel gave her during the summer over and over in her fingers.

INT. SCHOOL BOARD OFFICES - DAY

She’s not the only one a bit on edge. Lucas is fidgeting too, anxiously tapping his fingers against the mouse of his computer set-up. He’s officially been working as Evelyn’s assistant for a week or so, all fitted with his own cubicle and everything.

Admittedly, he feels somewhat out of place considering this place isn’t dripping in diner grease or techie wood shavings. But now that he’s been there for a week, it feels like the training wheels are off, and he’s got to act like he’s got it all figured out lest everyone else realize he should be evicted immediately. It’s a good opportunity, and he doesn’t want to mess it up.

So when EVELYN RAND walks through the doors, greeting the other staffers with a bright smile as she enters, Lucas is on his feet in an instant. He comes to join her and awkwardly accepts her greeting, launching into business as promptly as possible as he falls into step beside her on the way to her office.

Lucas: You have the 9:30 with Hoffman, and then the standing board check-in at 10:30. It’ll be virtual this morning, since Langley’s kids are home sick.

Evelyn: That’s right, that’s right. The flu is nasty this year, or so I’ve heard. [ eyeing him ] You gotten your flu shot yet?

Lucas: If I say no, am I fired?

Evelyn: No, provided you go get it during your lunch break. There’s a CVS down the block that’s administering them. In my office, we prioritize our health.

That’ll be tough for Lucas, but he’ll try his best. He continues with running through morning updates, handing her a folder with information she’ll need to review for an afternoon meeting.

Lucas: I also went ahead and printed out your itinerary for the week, and made some relevant notes. The highlight on Bingley’s Wednesday call is because it’s pending cancellation.

Evelyn: Big surprise. You’ll learn quick about Bingley -- he’s never consistent. And did you get the Parson --

Lucas: The Parson project proposal, yes. I compiled the memos and briefing on it together in that folder, blue paper clip, so you could refresh on it before the call.

Evelyn: Great. Thank you. What did you think?

Lucas: … ma’am?

Evelyn: Of the project proposal? I presume if you took all that time to compile it, you must’ve skimmed through the notes.

True enough -- he can’t help himself, he’s nosy. Lucas hesitates, not sure if she’s seriously asking his opinion or not… but he sticks with honesty, figuring that’ll do him the most good in the long run.

Lucas: It seems long-winded. They claim their objective is to add support for the lower-income student population, but funneling it through all these hoops seems like a convoluted way to garner attention without making a difference. If they want to actually help poor kids, they should just give them the money.

Direct, and a bit naive perhaps, but a fair perspective nonetheless. Evelyn processes that, humming thoughtfully, then dismisses Lucas back to his desk as she finishes the short walk to her office. Lucas hovers uncertainly for a moment, not sure if he should just leave it there… but when he turns to go Evelyn pops out of her office again, causing him to whip around when she calls after him.

Evelyn: Lucas?

Lucas: Um, yeah? Yes?

She holds him in suspense for a moment… then she offers him a smile.

Evelyn: Keep up the good work.

Lucas manages a light smile, taking any reassurance he can get. Once she disappears back into her office, he exhales a deep breath, stretching out his hands to keep from clenching them nervously as he shuffles back to his desk.

INT. GARDNER HOME - KITCHEN - DAY

Charlie descends from upstairs and enters the kitchen, finding ELEANOR GARDNER exactly where he hoped he would. She’s currently in church-aid mode, expertly assembling baked good care packages to give out to the needy during a New Year charity drive they’re putting together.

He asks if she has a second to chat, which she grants him after an unnatural beat of awkwardness. Although she’s not really acting any differently towards him, there’s definitely an uncertainty to their dynamic that wasn’t there before. One that makes Charlie anxious, but he isn’t sure how to address it, so for now he chooses to move forward as if he can’t sense it.

Instead, he offers his most endearing prodigal son smile as he hands over a sheet of paper for her to review.

Charlie: I thought you’d like to take a look at the apartment I’m going to rent. Since the family is helping pay for it, I figured you might like some input. I think this one is fairly priced, though -- I should be able to cover it myself once I get a job, pending roommates -- and it’s pretty centrally located. Near a lot of universities, but not too far from here either. So once classes start --

Eleanor finishes skimming the document he’s put together, finally mentally catching up.

Eleanor: [ with surprise ] You’re moving out?

Charlie: … yes? [ a beat ] I talked to dad about it. He said he mentioned it to you, that you talked it over. That’s why -- that’s why the family is funding it. For a bit. While I make the transition, get school figured out and stuff.

And perhaps he did. Perhaps Ambrose did tell her, and for whatever reason, it doesn’t seem to have stuck in Eleanor’s mind.

Eleanor: Oh. 

Rosie: [ from the living room ] Does this mean I’m finally getting the balcony room?

Charlie: [ over his shoulder to her ] Keep dreaming, rugrat!

ROSIE GARDNER sneers at him, turning back to her phone. When Charlie focuses back on his mother, she still seems a few steps behind, staring at the page he’s compiled for her. He’s clearly done his research, thought things through. He’s handling this exactly as a respectable, responsible young man should.

And yet, she doesn’t seem nearly as proud as she usually is.

Eleanor: You know you don’t have to go. Not when you’ve just gotten back and have so much stuff to figure out. I certainly wouldn’t force you out on your own.

Charlie, diplomatic: No, of course. I know that. I just think… it’s good for me to be out on my own. You know? Keep up some of that independence I built on the trip. Take some of the burden off you and dad, too, get you closer to empty nesting and everything. But I’m not going far -- you’ll still see plenty of me, I promise.

Eleanor: Right… right, of course.

Eleanor manages a smile, well-rehearsed. Charlie mirrors it, but something about the moment still leaves him uneasy.

He knows his family well enough to know when a smile isn’t authentic.

INT. JACK AND ERIC’S PLACE - DAY

The smiles are far more genuine at Jack and Eric’s, where Josh is staying in the spare room while he’s in the city for the New Year. He’s set aside his melancholy about his career and the Maya snub long enough to enthusiastically greet ANDREW HALL when he shows up at the door, giving him a tight embrace and welcoming him into the apartment. He’s excited to get to show him his neck of the woods for a few days, since Andrew has shown him all over Los Angeles.

Andrew seems pumped to be there too -- especially when he tells him all the things he wants to do on New Year’s Eve. They’ll be seeing the ball drop chaos, obviously, but he’s lined up a sick list of nightlife he wants to hit up too. He trolled the interwebs for all the best underground gems. They’re going to ring in 2022 right!

Fun as that sounds -- to extroverts, at least -- Josh seems hesitant. Admittedly, given all the stuff in his life he’s trying not to think about, he’s not sure he’s in a party mood.

But Andrew isn’t going to hear it. He grips his shoulders, giving him a dead serious look.

Andrew: Josh. Joshie, babe. We are young, and we are in New York fucking City for New Year’s. I get that you’re pissy about what happened with the song, for real, I get it. I’m pissed for you. But we are not letting that ruin our vibe. We’re not walking with that energy into 2022, man.

Josh: I guess…

Andrew: That’s what you have me for. I’m here to the rescue. We’re gonna get lit, and do all the touristy cringe shit, and you’re gonna forget about little miss Lollipop and all her bullshit. Like, fuck that noise.

Easier said than done, but Josh has tried just about every other approach at this point to no avail. So he sighs, relenting and raising his hands in surrender.

He doesn’t have much else to lose.

INT. JACK AND ERIC’S PLACE - KITCHEN - DAY

Isa is watering the plants while Jack and Eric are away on their impromptu post-engagement vacation. Once they’re done, they pull out their phone and open the conversation they’ve been debating how to respond to -- Farkle’s latest text asking about catching up one-on-one.

It was sent before the Secret Snowflake gathering, before the boyfriend bombshell, and the conversation has stalled since. Farkle hasn’t nudged again, and why would he, when he’s got a super cool sophomore guy to keep entertained? But Isa does miss him, and it was so nice to chat even for a second before the bubble burst at the gift exchange…

God, when did everything get so complicated? It’s easier to just look at old photos and reminiscence without having to actually do anything about it.

They avoid it again for now, switching to social media instead. Never a great idea, as there’s always a sneak attack of anxiety just waiting to strike, though this one is from an admittedly new subset. While scrolling through their feed, they slide past a photo set that Nigel posted from the Secret Snowflake gathering -- one with Yindra and Zay, a sort of cheeky one with Maya with the gift she gave him, one with Jade, the group picture Joe took of them…

One with Riley. She’s hugging him close, holding the gift he gave her between them. It’s a cute photo, but that’s not what catches Isa’s attention. Underneath, where the likes are listed, she notices Abby’s handle amongst the likers.

It could be innocuous. Social media is all about being fake, to a degree. But all Isa knows is that Abby is close to Imogen, and Imogen is shady about Riley, and all three of them have been talking shit about her behind her back. Isa can’t seem to forget that fact, that Nigel was an accessory to the acid. He could very well be playing Riley, to this day, and she has no idea.

It’s enough to make Isa feel queasy -- and that feeling only increases when they receive a text. It’s not from Farkle restarting their conversation like they would hope, but from their professor, Chelsea, excitedly asking if they saw their text about the final cut of the short film and that they need to get coffee to debrief! She hopes Isa isn’t going to disappear now that they’re no longer her student!

Oh, that’s exactly what Isa would like to do, after the party where they realized Chelsea’s fondness towards them is much more about their last name than their personhood. They were hoping to just go quietly and let the relationship die out, but apparently, it’s not going to be that easy. Chelsea doesn’t seem to get the hint from their silence.

Another thing going just swell. Isa sighs and pushes away from the counter to go -- accidentally knocking over the potted plant they were watering in the process. It crashes to the floor and splatters dirt all over the tile.

Isa: Son of a -- !

INT. THRIFT STORE - DAY

DYLAN ORLANDO pulls a hideous sweater vest off a rack with an impish grin.

Dylan: Bitchin’!

He swings around the end of the rack and comes to join Riley on the other side, holding it up for her to marvel at. She gasps, reaching to feel the hem.

Riley: Wow wow wow.

Dylan: I know. It’s awful, right? I’m kind of obsessed.

Riley: You totally have to get it. What’s the point of fashion if not to bedazzle and bewilder?

Dylan: This is why you are my favorite person. [ taking her hand ] Kindred spirit, Ri Ri, kindred spirit.

Riley beams, squeezing his hand. She lets him slip past her to look at the opposite rack and playfully counters that as flattered as she is, she has to fact-check his statement. Although she knows she ranks high, she’s not kidding herself that she could beat Asher for his favorite person.

Dylan: That’s true. But I don’t think Asher counts.

Riley: He doesn’t count? On your list of favorite people.

Dylan: Well it’s just unfair that way. There’s no chance. It would be like putting Taylor Swift in... the junior pop artist category at some award show. Or something. You know who’s gonna win by default. Besides, Asher isn’t a person anyway. He’s a Bird Bones. Very different category.

Riley can’t help but laugh, shaking her head. All that being said, Riley isn’t wrong. In fact… Dylan glances around them conspiratorially then lowers his voice.

Dylan: Speaking of avian lovers… you wanna hear a secret?

Intrigued, Riley’s eyes twinkle as she turns to look at him. She hops over to his side of the aisle and leans closer, playing along with the mystery.

Riley: You know I always do. Spill, Dyl.

Dylan: Okay. So, you can’t tell anyone else, because it’s not like official yet. As in like, we haven’t done it, but we’ve basically locked down the plans. We’re --

Riley: Oh my God. Are you getting married?

Dylan stares at her, eyes wide… but also undeniably tickled.

Dylan: No! Riley, please, I’m nineteen -- and if I were going to elope for the whimsy and fanciful secrecy of it, I wouldn’t be telling you right now. I wouldn’t crack that easily.

Riley: That’s your main reasoning.

Dylan: Obviously. But no, we’re not getting married. Yet. Though now I feel like anything else I say is kinda gonna have the wind out of its sails. How am I supposed to beat not-getting-married?

Really blew his suspense there, Riley! She apologizes, then prompts him to go on, assuring him she still very much wants to know. Once they’ve ran the bit a little longer, Dylan caves, finally revealing what he was actually going to say -- he and Asher are planning to move in together.

Riley: Aw, yay! Dylan, that’s great.

Dylan: Yeah. Thanks. We’re planning to do it this summer, after freshman year is all wrapped up. I mean, like I said, not nearly as exciting as marriage or whatever, but definitely still up there. I don’t think it’ll feel all that different because I basically half-lived at his house for the last three years, but this time it’ll be like just us, you know? Our place. This is our place, we make the rules, etc. etc.

Riley: Yes, yes totally. That sounds amazing. To be honest, I’m kind of surprised you didn’t just do that originally.

Dylan: I think it was good for us to do this year on our own. Give us a chance to establish our own worlds, not going into the whole thing relying on one another. Now it feels more like, okay, we’ve got our footing nice and stable, so merging it should make for a doubly strong foundation.

Riley smiles. She’s genuinely happy for them... and dare she admit it, a little bit jealous.

Dylan: Uh-oh. Everything going okay at the apartment? I don’t want World War III to break out while I’m enjoying my sparkling cider at the party.

Riley: No, no, it’s -- we’re fine. I really do love living with Isa, we get along well. I feel like we’ve gotten closer since we’re spending more time together just naturally. That was a great call. And on the flip side, I have loved having Lucas stay with me.

Dylan: Yeah?

Riley: Yeah. It has its highs and lows, of course, but par for the course. Nothing we can’t handle, and it rarely has anything to do with us versus, you know, all the bullshit.

Dylan: Right. Classic.

Riley: But it’s been so, so nice like… having him there. You know? Like, enjoying that freedom. Walking home together, cooking dinners, talking late. Waking up next to him… I mean, it’s so good. I can picture it like this all the time, like, building that space with him for the long haul. It would be perfect.

But that’s just it -- this isn’t that place. This isn’t their space. It’s Isa and Riley’s space, and Lucas is the interloper. No matter how honest the invitation to have him stay was, or how good -- or bad -- they’re doing at pretending it’s a great arrangement, Riley knows it’s not the same. It’s no longer the awesome situation with Isa; it’s not the daydream domestic bliss she could see herself sharing with Lucas. It’s kind of both and neither, and so it ends up failing all around.

Dylan empathizes, wishing her luck. When he questions whether she’s tried to talk about this friction directly, Riley dodges -- the whole scenario already feels like a house of cards one puff from blowing over. She doesn’t want to do anything to hasten that demolition if she can help it.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Roommate woes seems to be the theme of the week. Charlie is describing similar uncertainty as he walks downtown with BRIDGETTE GARDNER, the two of them on their way to grab coffee. Once he’s finished recapping the awkward way Eleanor seemed to react to his plan, he laments the struggle of trying to find roommates at such a random time of the year.

Bridgette: You don’t have to tell me about it. You know my apartment seems to be a roulette wheel of roomies. Their fault, not mine, but it’s a shitshow. We’re lucky we live in New York where people are constantly coming and going.

When she asks if he’s considered just living solo -- he could certainly afford it if mom and dad are footing the bill -- Charlie dismisses the idea. He’s had enough of being alone these last few months.

Charlie: I know once I enroll in a school and immerse in a new scene and stuff, it’ll feel easier, but I don’t want to keep being so… I don’t know, isolated. I like being with people. Having a community. I feel like roommates are a quintessential part of that -- you know, the person you can come home and crash with and just be around.

Romanticized notion, maybe, but the sentiment is sweet. Bridgette acknowledges there are pros to having a roommate -- provided you can find a good one. And yes, Charlie’s timing isn’t great, but surely there has to be some options in his pool of awareness. Friends? Former classmates?

Bridgette: Good old church buddies?

Charlie: Yeah, um. No thanks.

Bridgette: Oh, right, right. You need a place to have your little gay premarital sex, my bad.

Charlie: [ with a blush ] We don’t have to say it like that --

Bridgette: Well, you know what, there’s an idea right there. Why don’t you call up lover boy? He still lives in the city, right? And he sure had no problem making my apartment comfortable --

The suggestion is genuine, and said with only playful teasing, but it stings in a way Bridgette didn’t intend. Because no, Zay is absolutely not an option. He’s decidedly, pointedly unavailable.

Bridgette can sense immediately from the way his tone flattens that she struck a nerve. When she prods as to whether everything is okay, Charlie reluctantly admits that said lover boy has moved on.

Bridgette: Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.

Charlie: No, I know. It’s fine.

Bridgette: Well, you know, relationships last like five seconds around here. Maybe it’ll --

Charlie: We don’t need to talk about it.

Bridgette: I’m just saying --

Charlie: Bridgette. Please. Just drop it.

He really doesn’t want to think about it. Bridgette heeds his warning, raising a hand in surrender, but she notes that if he changes his mind, he knows she’s got an open ear. Charlie shrugs, leading the way into Svorski’s.

Charlie, unconvincingly: It doesn’t even matter.

INT. SVORSKI’S COFFEE - DAY

He can say so all he wants, but apparently, the universe disagrees. Because when Charlie pushes through the doors into the coffee shop, he manages to barrel straight into someone and nearly knock them over -- and who should that person be other than Zay Babineaux.

Thankfully, his reflexes are sharp as a dancer. He’s able to catch Charlie before he falls, bracing his arms even as he trips over his own feet. Charlie starts to apologize but then loses the words when he looks up and locks eyes with Zay, who holds his gaze for a long moment before his lips quirk into the lightest of amused smiles.

Zay: Charlie.

Charlie would respond in kind, but his power of speech seems to have face-planted without him.

As it turns out, Zay isn’t alone either. He’s also grabbing coffee with his sister, JADA BABINEAUX eyeing their little collision course. When she realizes that someone has followed Charlie into the shop, and they’re apparently too busy staring at each other and not speaking, she takes the initiative to break the ice.

Jada: Gonna introduce me? [ a beat ] No? Okay.

She pushes past Zay, pointedly holding out a hand in Bridgette’s direction and offering a smile.

Jada: Hi. I’m Jada.

This cross interaction is enough to jolt Charlie out of his paralysis. He straightens up and clears his throat as Bridgette accepts Jada’s handshake, effortlessly cool in contrast to her obviously unwell brother.

Bridgette: Bridgette.

Zay’s expression softens, recognition coloring his features. For all he’s heard her name, knows her lore, he’s never actually seen Bridgette in the flesh. He meets Charlie’s eyes, a moment passing between them.

Back in the real world, Jada and Bridgette keep chatting.

Jada: You from around here? I feel like I see these kiddos crawling all over this town, but don’t recognize you.

Bridgette: Sort of. Born and raised, but it’s not really my neighborhood anymore. Family exile lifestyle. [ off her intrigued eyebrow raise ] Anyway, I live in Tribeca.

At this, Jada brightens.

Jada: Oh, no way? Same shit. I go to the Fashion Institute.

Connections! Same scene! Bridgette hums, offering a subtly impressed nod. She’s definitely familiar with it. Meanwhile, Zay and Charlie are watching them interact warily as their worlds collide -- Zay out of bewilderment, Charlie out of cautious trepidation. Like if he moves too quickly, or opens his mouth, the universe might collapse.

Bridgette: Nice. So you must’ve been to Divine Drip already.

Jada: Ooh, no. Do say more.

Bridgette: Oh God, it’s this amazing coffee house on the south corner of Tribeca. It’s kind of hole-in-the-wall, but a local staple. I’m shocked you haven’t been if you’ve been schooling at the Institute.

Zay: [ under his breath ] What is happening?

Jada: [ ignoring him ] Please, no, all the fashion grads are so pretentious about like everything except coffee. The amount of Starbucks consumed in that building should be illegal.

Bridgette: Then you def need to try it. It’ll change your life.

Jada: Now I’m planning on it, yes. Would you be down to show me? I’m always looking for more chill folks in the area to vibe with, you would not believe how draining fashion bitches get after too much exposure. I need variety in my social life.

Bridgette: [ with a nonchalant shrug ] Sure.

Okay, seriously, what the hell is happening? Zay and Charlie spent so much time keeping their lives so separate, bonded only by their secret shared world, and now their sisters are just… what? Grabbing coffee for a laugh? Just like that? It’s surreal; based on his subtle expressions, Charlie looks like he’s trying to be sure he’s not dissociated or maladaptive daydreaming.

Jada: Great! I will tell this one [ pointing to Zay ] to give my number to that one [ pointing to Charlie ] to give to you.

Bridgette: Sounds like a plan.

Well. There you have it, then. Even if Zay and Charlie were on planet woo for most of that conversation, Jada and Bridgette seem to have had a good time! Jada beams and leans over to lightly nudge Charlie’s shoulder as she passes him.

Jada: Nice to see you again, Charlie.

Charlie manages to get his brain working long enough to smile. Zay follows his sister, passing him too and exchanging a bemused look with him. Anyway…

Zay, quieter: See you later.

It’s a promise… Charlie holds his smile together until they’re both gone, the bell to Svorski’s jingling behind them. For a moment, he and Bridgette stand there in silence, processing that scene…

Bridgette: That was him. [ side-eyeing him ] Wasn’t it?

Charlie tries to remain stoic, but his cheeks are already flushing… when he meets Bridgette’s eyes, he scoffs in embarrassment, marching onward without answering her question.

But that’s answer enough. Lover boy, in the flesh! Bridgette grins to herself, thoroughly amused as she follows after him.

INT. MINKUS HOME - DAY

Meanwhile, Jordan is making boyfriend efforts of his own, effortlessly charming the Minkus clan as they enjoy lunch. Well, he’s charming JENNIFER MINKUS, which is really all it takes. She is engrossed with stories of Hollywood wheeling and dealing that Jordan observed from his parents even at an early age, and is impressed with the smart, albeit glossy, impression he’s making. URI MINKUS remains less easily swayed, slouched in his chair at the end of the table.

What he does notice is how his normally chatty older brother can’t seem to get a word in edgewise. He’ll try to contribute something to the conversation, like an anecdote or addition to Jordan’s current point, but Jordan always finds a way to gently overpower him or dismiss his comment with the utmost sweetness. It comes off like banter, familiar rapport, but it also renders Farkle remarkably quiet. At this point, Jordan is basically speaking for both of them.

Farkle does manage to pipe up when Jennifer turns the topic to their plans for the remainder of Jordan’s time here. Will they be able to have dinner with the whole family, when Stuart is around to join? As they start to map out possibilities, Farkle jumps in to comment that they won’t be able to do one of the afternoons coming up, as they already have plans.

Farkle: Riley planned this thing --

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - GARAGE - DAY

Zay is in the midst of explaining the same concept to VANESSA JOHNSON as they do cool down stretches from a dance workout on the floor of his garage.

Zay: She wants to do a double date.

Essentially, Riley has decided a great way to get all of the current couples together -- with their new partners to meet -- would be to make it one big outing of fun. Because she’s Riley, and she loves to gather like this like the social butterfly she is. Vanessa, understandably, seems less sure.

Vanessa: A double date? So like, us and her and Lucas?

Zay: No. It’s a group -- though trust me, to a degree, that’s better than being stuck with just Lucas. There’s him and Riley, Nigel and his girlfriend Jade --

Vanessa: Right, we met at the holiday gathering. Riley really likes gatherings, doesn't she?

Zay: Yes. She’s insane. So there’s them, then Dylan and Asher -- annoying, but harmless -- and Farkle with his new boyfriend.

Vanessa: From L.A.

Zay: Yes. And… [ eyeing her ] Us. If you’re willing to stick it out with me.

So rather a quintuple date. Zay gets that it probably sounds overwhelming, and he doesn’t blame her for that. But it would make Riley really happy to have them there, he’s positive, and it might mean a little bit to him too.

Zay: Unfortunately, these are my people, so if we’re gonna do this thing you’re going to have to get used to them.

Somehow this almost feels more intimidating than meeting the parents, and Vanessa still isn’t sure she was ready for that step… but she finds herself agreeing anyway. She does like Riley, and it’ll at least likely be entertaining.

Vanessa: Plus Riley invited me to the New Year’s thing, and that was really nice of her. I feel like I should be returning the favor. Especially since I can’t come for the whole thing.

Zay: You’re catching on to how it is to be Riley’s friend quick, good job.

Jokes aside, Zay is glad to hear she’s open to it. She gives him a smile, accepting the kiss he stretches over to give her.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Dylan and Riley end their afternoon of hanging out by sneaking into Adams yet again, something that Riley doesn’t get why but doesn’t question -- it’s Dylan’s time at home, so she’ll follow along where he leads. But the reasoning becomes clear quickly enough when they discover there’s people waiting for them… something Dylan evidently knew all along, based on the mischievous grin on his face.

Lucas is on stage, as are ASHER GARCIA and DAVE WILLIAMS. A piano has been brought out, as well as a couple of guitars and a microphone stand at center stage. Lucas is still dressed for work, only slightly more comfortable with a worn flannel pulled over the button down.

They were expecting Riley and Dylan, but she definitely wasn’t expecting them. She’s more than pleasantly surprised as she greets them all, especially Dave, who she barely got the chance to see during the holiday gathering. She jogs up on stage to join them and gives each of them a hug, finally arriving at Lucas when she asks what exactly is going on.

Riley: This is giving definite up-to-something vibes.

Asher: Whatever could you possibly mean?

Dylan: Yeah, no idea what you’re talking about. We didn’t even have to truly sneak in this time -- Lucas has a key now and everything.

Since he’s still a part-time working man at Adams, yes. Riley turns to said working man, raising her eyebrows playfully as she waits for an explanation. Lucas concedes this truth, admitting that he may have asked Dylan to distract her for the afternoon while he got this set up.

Riley: And what exactly is “this?”

Lucas: I didn’t really get the chance to give you something for the holidays, partially because of the secret snowflake bullshit and because I’m terrible at giving gifts. That became especially true after you gave me everything you did for said gift exchange because, as luck would naturally have it, you drew my name.

Dylan: Fate, baby. Never misses.

Riley: Okay, but that’s fine. You know we’re not big on gifts or anything. I just got the excuse of exercising my right to gift because of the exchange.

Lucas: I know. But then I started thinking about how I rarely pull something together for any holiday -- I mean, I was an absolute mess the first couple years we knew each other, so I missed way too many birthdays. I’m broke, so I suck at Christmas. Not to mention we don’t really celebrate anniversaries because we don’t even know when the hell we should celebrate, because I’ve screwed up our relationship so many times it’s like we have about four different “starts” to choose from.

Riley shakes her head, endeared. She claims he doesn’t have to do anything for any of those occasions -- just getting to be with him, lasting this long, is testament enough. Lucas nods.

Lucas: I knew you’d say that too. But I still wanted to do something, you know, to make up for the birthdays and anniversaries and the fact that somehow, even though I am a walking tragedy of a partner and have three cents to my name, we’re still here. Because I know how insane that is, and I know how lucky I am, and I don’t ever want to make it seem like I’ve forgotten that.

After ruminating on it and thinking and wracking his brain… finally, it hit him. The obvious sort of thing Riley alone would appreciate, that would be special specifically to her. Reluctantly, he reaches for the mic stand and tilts it towards them, still holding it at a distance like it might bite.

He could perform.

Predictably, just as he assumed, the mere notion of this thrills Riley. She gasps and clasps her hands together, glancing to Dylan and Asher. The former is sliding on his guitar, tuning it and giving her a wink. Asher heads for the piano, while Dave takes the other six-string.

Riley slowly turns back to Lucas, giving him a challenging smile. Is this for real?

Lucas: It is the very least I could do, to let you experience one of your -- bizarrely, for reasons I cannot fathom or imagine -- favorite rare glitches in the universe.

So yes. He’s going to sing. For her, and only her. It will embarrass basically every fiber of his being and he will want to crawl under a rock and decompose, but if it’s for her, then it’s worth it. Riley needs zero convincing, already ready to roll as she pulls an acting block over and sits on top of it at the edge of the stage in front of them all.

Lucas: So just remember that… I love you, and I did my best. And know going in that this isn’t going to be good.

Asher: He really did do his best. We’ve been working on this since like October.

Dylan: So cute.

Lucas: Anyway… here goes nothing. [ a beat ] And I’m sure it goes without saying, but like usual, if you tell anyone about this --

Riley: Yeah, yeah, you’ll have to go into hiding, etc., etc. Let’s go, Pete Wentz, I’m on the edge of my seat here.

Cheeky… but that’s all part of her charm. The charm that has won Lucas over so thoroughly, it has him willing to stand on the same stage he used to despise and put down his performing defenses. He tries and fails to hold back a smile at her enthusiasm, then clears his throat, nodding to Asher to start them off.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Maybe I’m Amazed” as performed by Paul McCartney || Performed by Lucas James Friar (feat. Dylan Orlando, Asher Garcia, and Dave Williams)

As promised, it’s not the most amazing vocal performance Adams has ever seen. It’s not going to win a Grammy. Thankfully, it doesn’t have to -- that’s not the point of it, and Paul McCartney himself wasn’t trying that hard vocally when he wrote the song. It’s not about how it’s sung but the lyrics that are being shared, a raw expression of awe towards a lover that he can’t believe he gets to call his.

In that respect, Lucas couldn’t be more perfectly suited for the rendition.

And even if he was the worst singer on Earth, if he was purely tone-deaf and screaming nonsense, Riley would love it either way. There’s a comfort, a trust at play between them, that allows the serenade to feel low stakes even as Lucas fights every one of his shy, humiliation-averse instincts to follow through. It helps that his back-up band are some of the best instrumentalists from the A class, as well as his closest friends, and they also help keep things feeling light.

The master of that though, of course, is Riley. Her smile doesn’t leave her face the entire time, only growing brighter as the performance unfolds. If she laughs at all, it’s because she’s laughing with them, not at them, and fondness is coloring every inch of her features.

Around the two-minute mark, she can’t sit still any longer. She rises to her feet and approaches Lucas, taking his hand and pulling him towards her as he starts on the next repetition of the chorus. He doesn’t shy away, using whatever courage he has to stick with the vulnerability, singing softer with his forehead pressed against hers as she pulls them into a sway to the music.

Maybe I'm amazed at the way you help me sing the song Right me when I'm wrong Maybe I'm amazed at the way I really need you

Then before the instrumental and vocal riff around 2:30, he spins her under his arm and holds her against him, swaying them back and forth while she cracks up.

They continue to dance together while the instrumental solos take over, giving us the chance to appreciate Dylan, Dave, and Asher’s individual and combined musicianship again. It’s been a while! As the music starts to fade out, Riley brings Lucas along to start pulling the others into the dance -- it doesn’t take much with Dylan.

The number floats out while they’re dancing and singing casually together on the stage, laughter bubbling up throughout the rough showmanship.

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

The next day, the Minkus family takes Jordan out for a late lunch. Farkle easily knows the exact place he wants to show him.

The entire clan is packed into the big corner booth at Chubbies, a quintessential must for anyone who wants to know Farkle’s world. As he explains while they eat, this place was basically the holy grail of eateries for them in high school -- mainly because it’s convenient, but it has indisputable charm.

Jordan: It’s certainly got… character.

Jennifer: [ with a laugh ] To be honest, this is the first time we’ve actually eaten here as well. Of course, we’ve had the food -- it’s delicious -- but we usually have it delivered.

Stuart: And we’ve been missing out, clearly.

Jordan nods along, but there’s a hint of condescension in his features like always. Not that they pick up on it, anyway -- except Uri, who moodily sips a spoonful of his soup while eyeing Jordan across the table.

EZRA MINKUS, on the other hand, is won over hands down. He’s got ketchup smeared on his chin, shoveling another handful of French fries down.

Ezra: I love it!

Farkle grins. Jennifer leans over and dabs at Ezra’s chin with a napkin.

Jordan actually isn’t their only company at this meal -- it’s been combined with business, as per usual, as STUART MINKUS is hosting an executive and dignitary from the UK this week as well, MARTIN BECK (50s). He’s there with his wife and son, who is about the same age as Jordan. They seem more than game to enjoy the diner food, however, amiable company. It’s evident why Stuart keeps up a partnership with them.

Even more interesting, when the topic turns to the arts, Beck admits he’s always had a passion for it. Particularly theater and film. He is always looking for interesting projects to invest in. This piques both Jordan and Farkle’s interest -- opportunistic and genuine, respectively. Stuart makes sure to note that Farkle went to Adams and his current enrollment at USC.

Beck: Oh, USC? Excellent school. 

Jordan: I go there as well. It’s where we met.

Beck: Lovely. [ to Farkle ] And you got into the musical theater program?

Farkle: Yes. I thought about staying here -- no shortage of the arts --

Beck: Certainly not!

Farkle: But I wanted to take the leap. Try something new.

Jennifer, proudly: Not to mention he has an agent interested in him out there.

Beck’s Son: [ with humor ] Way to bury the lede, man.

Beck: Yes, well done, Farkle! Good on you. I’ll definitely be wanting to hear more about that, should it come to fruition. You’ll have to tell us what you end up accomplishing next.

Farkle smiles lightly, appreciative of the praise and always happy to clearly make his parents proud.

Jordan is less appreciative. He can tell there’s no way for him to get the attention in this situation, not outnumbered by so many Minki. Farkle comes off looking like the prize without a doubt. Jordan goes quiet, focusing on his food.

But Farkle is learning quick, and he picks up on the subtle shift in his mood. He searches for a way to change it, bringing the conversation back around to his boyfriend.

Farkle: Jordan is in the film school. Equally hard to go into -- more than the theater program, actually, I think.

Beck: So I’ve heard!

Jordan, humble: It has a lower acceptance rate than Harvard Law, but…

Farkle: He’s a great director. He was the vision behind my friend’s music video. I don’t know if it broke out in the UK -- “On My Grind?”

Beck’s Son: OMG? Oh, that song slaps.

Farkle successfully found a way to give his boyfriend back the spotlight. They exchange small smiles, Jordan scrunching his nose fondly at him, before happily taking the opportunity to talk about himself.

INT. ANYA KELLY DESIGN STUDIO - KITCHEN - DAY

Jade is in the kitchen, texting Nigel about the quintuple date concept. Although they’ve already agreed to go, he obviously seems nervous about it. She starts to text him back assuring him that it won’t be a big deal and everything will be fine -- avoiding Riley isn’t going to help his nerves -- but she’s distracted when she hears chatter from the main floor.

INT. ANYA KELLY DESIGN STUDIO - MAIN FLOOR - DAY

When she pops her head out of the kitchen, all the designers and seamstresses are aflutter, eagerly discussing something and passing around magazines. When Jade asks SKYLAR ALBRIGHT and JAMAL ALLEN what’s going on, they reach over to hand her a copy of the latest fashion spread.

Skylar: One of Anya’s long-awaited collaboration projects just dropped, and all the mags are raving about it.

Jamal: Total bombshell delivery. This is the exact kind of shit she loves, by the way. Flipping expectations, watching the industry go buck-wild. Gotta admit though, this scheme was pretty dope.

Jade takes the magazine to see for herself, heart beating faster in her chest when she recognizes the designs. It’s from the collab Anya was working on when she asked for her opinion before Halloween… and they incorporated the leather. The leather twist is all over the final product, a big part of what’s getting rave reviews by the write ups. Jade’s idea is taking the fashion world by storm with this drop.

Only it’s not Jade’s idea. Apparently. In the magazine, there’s zero mention of her. No credit, no byline, not even a tiny print of her name underneath one of the photos that incorporated the leather idea. All credit for it is going straight to Anya -- especially since in the quotation included where Anya herself talks about the designs, she goes on and on about the novelty of leather with near verbatim Jade’s insight without mentioning her once.

She’s a nobody, and Anya is on top of the world like never before. Jade stares at the magazine, caught between shock and disbelief… before it slowly simmers into indignation.

The proverbial fuse is burning lower and lower… tick… tick…

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Ding! Another order up at Chubbies, disrupting the countdown for now.

Farkle is by the register with his parents and the Beck seniors, settling their large bill with JOE. By the doorway, Uri babysits Ezra and impatiently waits around for them to go while Jordan keeps up conversation with Beck’s son.

At the same time, MOLLY SINGH passes through the doors, back in the city before second semester starts again. She heads to the pick-up counter to get a takeout order for herself, an easy enough trip to be in and out. She’s heading for the door to do just that, but she ends up pausing when she hears the name “Farkle” float through the room. She hesitates, thinking on it… where has she heard that name before?

When she scans the diner, her gaze lands on Farkle by the register just as he laughs bashfully at something Beck says. And when he smiles, it clicks -- duh! Isa’s friend! The one in Los Angeles, who she’s seen pictures of in passing in Isa’s room and on their phone. The smile makes it click -- most of the photos Isa seems to keep around feature him smiling.

Part of her thinks it might be nice to quickly introduce herself, just to make the connection and tell him how fondly Isa talks about him… but she pauses when she realizes where the conversation invoking his name is actually coming from. Not from the adults, but from Jordan, who is carrying on his chat with the investing producer’s son.

Apparently, Farkle gearing the conversation earlier towards him wasn’t enough. If he’s hoping to come out of this unexpected business opportunity making the best impression, he’s got to do more than that -- and he’s planting the seeds, making friends with Beck’s son at the same time that he’s ever-so-subtly throwing his own boyfriend under the bus.

Jordan: He’s sweet, though. Seriously, you should’ve seen him when I first met him. Talent out the wazoo, but it’s like he had no confidence. Could’ve blown him over like a house of cards.

Beck’s Son: Seems pretty confident now.

Jordan: Well, he’s been with me for a couple months. And that’s part of it, you know… [ conspiratorially ] I’m definitely his first relationship. It’s cute, but it shows. You know, he had to get kissing lessons from his friend before we started dating.

Beck’s Son: [ with a laugh ] What? No way.

Jordan: No joke. And even better -- it was his Catholic friend. Like, you can’t write better stuff than this. My poor boy, having to get sex education from a Catholic.

They laugh, like it’s just a neat little tidbit to share with company. Oh so silly and casual… but Molly doesn’t seem to think so. It seems like something she probably wasn’t supposed to hear, and definitely shouldn’t have been thrown out so casually with strangers.

Uri seems to agree. He didn’t need to know that about his brother -- and the whole Gardner connection hasn’t even occurred to him -- but what he does know is that he doesn’t like that Jordan is talking to strangers about Farkle like that.

Sufficiently unsettled, Molly leaves without making any introductions. But she does pull out her phone…

INT. APARTMENT BUILDING - HALLWAY - DAY

Isa is on their way back to the apartment, checking Molly’s text when it comes through.

“Is Farkle in town? I just heard something really weird that I feel like you might know more about”

Isa stops in their tracks, frowning. Before they can even type a response, Molly follows up.

“This dude at the diner you recommended said that he was hooking up with his friend. He said he was Catholic?? Anyway I don’t think this is the kind of stuff I’m just supposed to hear in passing -- maybe you should talk to him about it, make sure that’s something he wants other people to know?”

That would be a good idea, but Isa is too busy staring at the actual content of what Molly overheard. Farkle is having casual hookups? Since when? And with a…

It hits Isa like a brick. They only know one Catholic.

What. The. Fuck?

INT. NYU APARTMENT - DAY

Isa marches into the apartment, so bowled over by this apparent news bulletin that they need to tell someone. They shout for Riley to come into the living room, dashing to their room to drop their stuff so that they can fully freak out about this bizarre revelation unburdened.

Only it can’t be that mind-blowing, because it gets shoved out of their mind impressively fast. A more damning discovery makes quick work of that when they rush back into the living room -- and realize that the card table is completely clear.

The Scrabble game is gone.

It’s the last straw. On top of everything else -- the shock of whatever Molly just told them, the boundaries people can’t seem to stop violating thanks to their long-dead mother, their stupid mixed feelings for Farkle that are now excruciatingly pointless and threatening to destroy them entirely -- this takes the cake.

Isa: What the hell?!

Riley and Lucas finally emerge from her room, asking what’s wrong and what they needed her for. But Isa is past that -- in that second, fixated on the game, they probably couldn’t even remember which friend it was Farkle supposedly hooked up with.

Isa: The Scrabble game. What the hell happened to the Scrabble game?

Lucas makes a face. That’s their big drama they stormed in here wailing about?

Lucas: I put it away. Back when we put up decorations. Is that all?

Oh, his nonchalance is going to be the death of him. Isa stares at him, temper flaring at his indifference. Ever since he got here, all he’s done is belittle their way of doing things and throw it all out of whack.

Isa: What do you mean you just put it away?

Riley: Okay, okay --

Lucas: What do you mean what do I mean? I put it away --

Isa: Do you have any idea how long we’d had that game going? Do you even care -- do you even listen to anything I say when I talk?!

Lucas: Jesus fuck, what is the matter with you?

Riley: Listen, I told Lucas to clear the table. I didn’t think about -- I wasn’t thinking --

Isa: No, Riley, don’t make this your fault. It’s not your fault. If Lucas had any sense of like, remotely caring about other people, he would’ve realized that maybe it was important to me.

Riley: Hey.

Lucas: Oh my God, chill. You have been on my ass for weeks about nothing!

Isa: So how I feel is nothing?

Lucas: Fucking hell -- leave me alone! If you called us out here just to rail on me, I’ll pass thanks. I get enough of that at the other apartment.

He’s not sticking around for this again. Isa scoffs, pointing out that he’s not taking responsibility for something yet again, but Lucas simply flips them the bird as he heads out the door.

Isa growls and storms towards the door, lightly kicking at the hardwood in frustration once he’s gone. Riley stands awkwardly by the table, knowing that this is getting unhealthy but having no clue what to do about it. She clasps her hands together.

Riley: We can start a new game, Isa. Tonight, if you want.

Isa sighs, taking a deep breath. It’s not really about that. They know that.

Isa: It’s whatever. I’ll live. But yes, let’s play again tonight.

Riley smiles, glad that still seems to be on the table at least. Aiming to move on from the friction, she cheerfully changes the subject, reminding Isa that they’ll have to be careful about where they place the game since they’re having people over for New Year’s Eve. They’ll just be more thoughtful about how they clean it up, so they don’t disturb the tradition.

Honestly, Isa had completely forgotten about the party. They barely remember what day of the week it is.

Isa: Oh, right. Who’s coming again?

Riley: The usual people. Dylan, Asher. Zay, Charlie. Farkle and Maya -- sorry, I hope that’s okay. It would’ve just felt shitty not to invite her --

Isa: No, yeah, that’s fine. I get it. I can manage to avoid her for another night.

Riley smiles, appreciating their flexibility on that point. She knows it isn’t easy.

Riley: Other than that, uhh, just Jade… Yindra, and Nigel, I think. I’m pretty sure that’s everyone. The summer group chat, basically.

At Nigel’s mention, Isa tenses up. It feels wrong for Riley to be inviting him. They try to find a way to say as much without completely blowing up the whole drama -- they don’t want to cause any more tension than there already is, nor do they really want to carry the emotional baggage. But if they can protect her on the sidelines…

Isa: Maybe we should leave out Nigel.

Riley: What? [ bewildered ] Why the hell would we do that?

Isa: … well… you know. We’re not really that close to him.

Riley: We go to school with him. He’s been our friend for years.

Isa: Is he really? He’s no Dylan Orlando. We could keep this more of a lowkey, inner circle affair, you know. The besties.

It feels very weird hearing “besties” come out of Isa’s mouth, but they’re just grasping at straws at this point. They run with it anyway. Trim the fat a bit, ring in the New Year with only the closest pals! Dylan, Asher, Jade. Zay can come. Charlie, they guess…

Riley, skeptical: You’ve spoken more words to Nigel than you ever have to Charlie.

Isa, forced: What are you talking about? I love Charlie. [ a beat ] He’s uh, Catholic, right?

Yeah, clearly besties. Riley rolls her eyes, firmly stating they’re sticking to the invite list. She knows Isa doesn’t like big groups, but this is the usual crew. What’s the worst that could happen? It’ll be great. And hey, if Isa is so concerned about it, maybe this is the time to make some better friendships out of a night.

Likely. Isa manages a thin smile. Is it ever going to stop feeling like they’re drowning in discomfort…

INT. CHEY APARTMENT - DAY

Yindra and Zay are hanging out at Nigel’s, all of them crowding onto the couch in the living area. Nigel fiddles with the remote to get whatever they’re going to watch set up, while Zay remarks pithily on gossip from the last few days.

It’s familiar, and comfortable, and nice to be back. Yindra looks at her boys with a light smile, not realizing how much she missed them and their dependability until she had to be away for so long.

She tunes back in when Zay brings up the upcoming group date, which he is decidedly not all that jazzed about. Even though he’s glad she said yes, he was kind of hoping Vanessa would say no so they’d have an excuse not to be there. Nigel is reluctant himself, but for different reasons. Yindra rolls her eyes.

Yindra: Wah, wah. Listen to y’all, being so whiny about having a girlfriend and getting to be social. At least you got invited.

Nigel: You don’t have a partner.

Yindra: Whoa, I had no idea, Chey Chey. Thanks for the big reminder.

Zay: If you’re that desperate to be included, I’m sure you can ask Riley if you can eleventh wheel. If that really sounds remotely enjoyable to you. Just remember, Dylan and Asher will be there. Or better yet, you can borrow my girlfriend and go instead.

Yindra: Careful what you wish for. Vanessa’s hot, and I’m not above scooping her from you.

Zay’s turn to roll his eyes. Nigel brushes off the bickering, supportively reminding Yindra instead that soon she’ll forget about all this dumb social circle stuff when she’s back in L.A. killing it. Whenever she hears back from that agent and things start moving, all this hometown stuff will feel like old news.

Ah, yes… that agent she’s already heard from but hasn’t responded to. That she isn’t sure she wants to respond to, because the cozy warmth of being back where it’s safe and familiar is way more alluring.

She opts not to comment, nuzzling closer to Nigel and directing him to start their movie already.

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Lucas is working a shift when Charlie enters the diner, obviously pleased to find him there. He approaches the counter and greets Lucas cheerfully, who returns it with muted but equally friendly familiarity.

They exchange a bit of small talk about the holidays and Charlie starts to ask how Lucas is doing, but they’re interrupted when another patron approaches and requests a pick-up order. Lucas halts their conversation to turn around and grab the order for the customer, and while he’s facing the other direction, Charlie notices something odd -- one of Isa’s green “claim” circles has been stuck to the back of Lucas’s Chubbies shirt. Strategically placed just over his shoulder, where he can’t see it on his own.

When Lucas turns back and hands the patron their order, Charlie waits until they leave them alone again to say something.

Charlie: Um, I think you’ve got something…

Lucas frowns in confusion, Charlie politely pointing towards his shoulder. Lucas cranes his neck to look, then pulls his shirt forward enough to catch a glimpse of the offending sticker. When he sees it, he cusses in irritation, scrambling to grab it and rip it off.

Lucas: [ under his breath ] Fucking petty --

He shakes the sticker off his hand and throws it to the ground, stomping on it for good measure as if to make sure it’s dead. Charlie watches this whole five-second experience with mild bemusement, not sure if he should ask for further information or not. With Lucas, you never know what he’ll actually talk about.

Once the heat of the moment has passed, Lucas huffs, running a hand through his hair and focusing on Charlie again.

Lucas: Hi. Sorry. What were we talking about?

Charlie: … I just asked how things were going.

Clearly, great. Lucas blinks, trying and failing not to come off distracted and moody.

Lucas: Oh. Yeah, uh, it’s -- the usual. But it’s fine. All good. I’m working at the school board now, for Evelyn Rand, and you know, still living with Riley and Isa and everything. Submitted my deferment paperwork, so now I’m just waiting to get all that approved again even though I might still have to say fuck it and not go with the medical bills we’re -- anyway, yeah. I’m fine. Everything is great.

Convincing as always. Charlie offers a smile.

Charlie: That’s good.

Lucas: Yep...

Indeed… well. Once another awkward beat of silence or two has passed, Charlie clears his throat, opening his mouth to offer something from his own life probably equally as riveting, but Lucas surprises both of them by suddenly cracking again.

Lucas: Actually, sorry, could I just -- could I say something? Real quick?

Charlie blinks. He wasn’t expecting that, but he certainly isn’t going to say no.

Charlie: Sure.

With permission, Lucas releases a monumental sigh. He leans forward against the counter and drops his voice, like he’s sharing a dark secret.

Lucas: I kind of think I’m gonna lose it, man.

Charlie’s eyebrows shoot up, but he doesn’t get the chance to ask for more. Lucas is already on it, all his stress and repressed tension tumbling out of him in a hushed murmur. He focuses mainly on the roommate situation, how Isa is driving him nuts with all the petty behavior and ongoing war of the worlds. It’s exhausting, and like constantly walking on eggshells, which is frustrating considering they’ve never been like that before.

Lucas: Like, don’t get me wrong, we’ve both always been difficult. We’re bastards, that’s like our whole thing. But I don’t usually feel like that’s directed at me the way it is these days. It’s like, we can’t have a conversation without it spiraling into some stupid fight about groceries, or some argument from three years ago Isa seems to suddenly have strong feelings about, or fucking Scrabble --

Charlie: Oh, Scrabble can get real intense. One time, I was playing with my family, and Rosie tried to play “um,” which I explained doesn’t count because it’s not an actual word, it’s more of an indistinct filler noise, and then she fired back that if I didn’t think it counted then I was basically giving up my entire vocabulary, which was really --

Lucas is staring at him, lost, so Charlie backtracks and waves off his tangent.

Charlie: Anyway, that’s not -- um, I mean -- um -- [ damn it, again; clearing his throat ] You were saying?

Lucas: I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m trying to say. It’s just like… I don’t know if I can live like this. I left one apartment because it was shitty enough feeling like… it wasn’t supposed to feel like this. It didn’t, until recently. But now I feel like if it keeps up like this, I’m not going to be certifiably sane enough to even go to Davis provided they decide I’m worth wasting money on again.

Charlie: Have you talked to Riley about this? I’m sure she wouldn’t want you to feel like this.

An obvious step, yes, but based on Lucas’s reaction it’s about the worst thing he could’ve suggested. Lucas winces, voice cracking slightly.

Lucas: I can’t. I don’t want to put her in the middle again -- she’s constantly being shoved into the middle of other people’s problems. I can’t do it to her too. I already put her through enough just being me.

Charlie: I don’t think she sees it that way.

Lucas: And I don’t want her to think it’s about her. Because it’s not. Living with her is… that’s good. I like that. That’s not the problem. But it’s all the same thing, and if I say I can’t live in that apartment anymore…

Then that implicates her too. Or it runs the risk of coming off that way, which Lucas doesn’t want to gamble. He doesn’t want to give her any more reasons to be frustrated with or hurt by him.

Tricky situation. Charlie can empathize -- withholding information to avoid discomfort while stomaching too much of your own is kind of his life M.O. up to this point. He thinks on it.

Charlie: I’m sorry, man. That’s tough. Though I really do think if you told Riley about it, she wouldn’t think it was about her. If you told her so, she’d believe you. She trusts you.

Lucas makes a face, not convinced. Even if that’s true, he still has a hard time believing it.

Charlie: I don’t know if this will help, or is what you’re looking for, but I might have an alternate solution.

Lucas: Please, speak. At this point I’ll hear anything.

Charlie: Well, I’m gonna be moving into my own place soon, and I’ve actually been looking for a roommate.

Charlie lays out the short version of events, that he’s going to be renting an apartment for the transition time before school starts next semester. Hopefully he’ll end up at a school where he won’t have to move after either, but he’s looking specifically for a more flexible lease given his own unique circumstances. So if Lucas does end up going to California, he wouldn’t have to feel bad bailing a few months early. It would be low stakes.

Lucas is surprised Charlie is even offering the space to him, though he notably doesn’t seem opposed to the idea. Partially because at this point, anything would be better than the constant friction with Isa… but he doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to just dip on Riley -- he can’t do that to her again.

Lucas: Can I have a few days to think about it? I just think I need to -- I need to handle this right. Regardless of what I do.

Charlie: Of course, for sure. There’s no rush. I’m just putting it out there, since you seem to be looking for options.

Lucas: Yeah. Yeah, I appreciate that. Thanks.

Charlie smiles.

EXT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Josh has just finished giving Andrew the general tour of his usual spots when he’s in the city, ending their afternoon at the diner. He claims it’s a favorite of his niece and all her friends, but whether that actually means it’s good he can’t say.

Josh: My niece’s boyfriend also works here, so we might run into him.

Andrew: Oh, sick. I’ve heard you say the weirdest shit about this dude in passing and now I’m dying to know what the hell he actually looks like. I’m picturing like six-two, buzz cut, scar down his face.

Josh: That’s not even close to right. What have you overheard me saying?

Andrew: I don’t know, you’re usually talking to your brother, and he usually sounds convinced this dude is gonna end up in prison.

Josh: Sounds like Cory, yeah.

Before they even step inside though, they’re confronted with an obstacle. They nearly run into Maya and Katy, who are heading towards the diner from the opposite side of the street. Based on the way they stop still, eyeing each other warily, Katy can tell something is up. Andrew senses the tension too, knowing about the song snub, and gives Josh a light jab on the arm.

Andrew: I’ll give you a sec. See if I can guess niece’s boyfriend at a glance and you can tell me if I’m right.

Josh nods, letting Andrew head inside without him. As Maya and Katy approach, the latter braves the risk of offering a hello, guessing from their interaction that they must know each other. Her mother’s soft voice snaps Maya out of it, prompting her to introduce them.

Maya: Mom, this is Josh Matthews. The producer I was telling you about.

Katy: Oh, what a nice surprise.

Although Josh isn’t happy with Maya, politeness is still in his veins, so he returns Katy’s smile and offers her a handshake.

Josh: Nice to meet you.

Katy: You did a wonderful job with the single. It sounds great. Maya is really happy with it.

Oh, so she’s telling people he was involved? News to him… Josh accepts the compliment graciously anyway. There’s clearly more to discuss, so Katy excuses herself to give them some space, stating she’ll go ahead and grab them a table. She’s hoping to say hi to some of her former coworkers, so she can do that while they chat.

Once they’re alone, an awkward silence settles between them. Maya can tell Josh is cold towards her, but she has no idea why. So she tries to use the only thing she has in her arsenal -- their success.

Maya: The song is doing really well. Might even break the charts, which Justin said is highly uncommon for an obscure artist without a big flashy radio release. Though I think they are going to get this one on the radio -- they’re just working on logistics. [ a beat ] I don’t know if you got my text --

Josh: I got it.

Okay… Maya narrows her eyes, not sure how to respond to that.

Maya: I think I’m going to get a booking on one of the L.A. talk shows too. A morning one, so not quite the hot spot, but it’s a start --

Josh: Congratulations. Are you done rubbing it in now?

Maya shakes her head, bewildered.

Maya: What are you talking about? [ with a scoff ] I was going to ask if you wanted to do the show with me, from a producing standpoint, but if you’re going to act like this --

Josh blinks at her. Is she serious?

Josh: What kind of mindfuck are you trying to pull?

Maya: What?

Josh: Seriously, is this some kind of game to you? Dangling it in front of me? You win, all right -- you got a song out of me, and now you can gloat all you want. I don’t want to play anymore.

Maya: Play what? I’m the one trying to have a normal conversation -- or any conversation for that matter, since you’re apparently leaving me on read -- but you’re just --

Josh: Think they’d be pretty confused on whatever lame morning show you end up on why you’ve dragged this sleep-deprived nobody onstage with you. So why the hell would you other than to laugh at my expense?

Maya: … okay, are you like going through some sort of mental snap? Don’t take it out on me if your self-esteem is that low. I think it’s obvious why you’d be there --

Josh: Oh, is it? Are they just supposed to look at the song credits and magically conjure my name there under producer? Like a sixth sense?

Maya: What?

Josh: I’m not on the song, Maya! Just like I’m sure you wanted.

Maya frowns, totally lost. She pulls out her phone to show him he’s wrong, to throw his accusations back in his face as delusion… but when she looks deeply at the credits for the first time, she discovers the mistake. He’s right. He’s not there.

His contribution -- his co-authorship -- has been erased to nothing.

Maya: [ under her breath ] Holy shit.

Josh: And now I’m here spelling it out for you on the sidewalk like a fucking idiot -- probably also exactly what you wanted. So if this was your grand scheme to get back at me, to prove me wrong or whatever the fuck, you win. All right? You win, and I’m over it. So just leave me the fuck alone.

Maya opens her mouth to explain, to search for an obvious explanation or claim it was a mistake and promise she’ll find a way to right it… until the rest of his words click.

He thinks she did this on purpose. He thinks this was her idea, that she’d undercut him and use him like nothing. That she’d mess with his artistic liberty for fun.

Maya: Hold on. I’m sorry. Are you accusing me of stealing your work?

Josh: No. But an “honest” mistake, where a name just gets left off --

Maya: Yes, this is obviously a mistake! One that should be easy to be fix, once we get back to L.A. But if you’re gonna stand there and act like I’d do this just to spite you --

Josh: Wouldn’t you? Riley told me stories about you, about your class. I know you’re not above being vindictive. Or petty. And I can’t think of a better way to… to just completely…

To break his spirit. Even vocalizing it, the true hurt of what happened, feels too vulnerable to contemplate.

Maya feels it though. She feels it in her bones, because she knows if it were her, it would leave the exact same kind of scar. She and Josh have many differences, and started on the decidedly wrong foot, but if writing this song together illuminated anything, it’s how seriously they both care about the music. There’s something in them, however small, at their core that is the same. The fact that he believes she’d take advantage of that, even for a second, is its own unique kind of hurt.

Maya: I’m a lot of things. I’m a diva, and I’m a bitch. I’ll do what I need to get ahead, and I won’t apologize for it. But I have integrity. I don’t fuck around with the music -- especially not when it comes to creating it. If you really think I’d do this on purpose, just to fuck with you, after we worked so hard to…

There aren’t words to articulate what she’s feeling. She’s never felt this hurt before by someone she doesn’t know very well -- that she was just starting to open up to. Now she’s starting to remember why those doors are better off staying closed.

Divas work alone for a reason.

Maya, tightly: I’m sorry this happened, Josh. I hope you’re able to get it figured out.

Because at least right now, he’s lost her sympathy. If he believes she’s capable of doing him dirty like that, then he can clean it up on his own. She pushes past him, shoulder-checking him.

Maya: Good fucking luck.

Josh lets her go, swallowing his emotion. He still feels the resentment, and the hurt, but after seeing the look on her face… there might be some doubt in the equation now too.

Break 1.

INT. MINKUS HOME - NIGHT

Farkle is up late, studying his script for The Last Five Years. Most of the household has gone to sleep, including Jordan, and he’s utilizing the brief peace to work on memorization.

It doesn’t last long, though. Uri is still up, and when he quietly moves into the kitchen for a midnight snack he sees Farkle sitting on the couch. They’ve crossed paths like this in the late night hours many times over the years, both night owls by nature, usually not saying a word and leaving the other be.

But this time, Uri hesitates. Though it seems like he’d really rather not have to have a conversation, an uncomfortable feeling has been nagging at him since the meal at Chubbies.

Uri: Farkle?

Farkle jumps slightly, glancing over his shoulder and seeing him in the kitchen. When he realizes it’s just Uri, he offers a small smile, though he’s clearly already confused as to why he’s bothering to talk to him.

Farkle: Hey. Still awake, or woke up again?

Uri: Still awake.

Farkle: And you’re feeling chatty? Weird. You should talk to your doc about your ADHD meds, maybe they need to put you on a better dosage so you’ll go the hell to sleep.

Uri rolls his eyes. He plops down in the armchair adjacent to the couch, silence settling between them again as Farkle goes back to reading. It’s not the first time they’ve done this, either -- sitting in comfortable silence to do their own thing -- but this time isn’t comfortable for Uri. He watches Farkle, sitting on his hands, searching helplessly for what he should say.

Uri: So, uh, you… you really like Jordan?

Farkle lifts his eyes to meet his, giving him a look. Surprised he’s still talking -- and that he asked such a strange question.

Farkle: [ with an awkward laugh ] Uh. Yeah? He’s my boyfriend.

Uri: Yeah…

Farkle: So of course I like him. I know relationships are new for both of us, but I hope you at least have that part figured out on your end.

The fact that Uri doesn’t get cheeky at Farkle’s brotherly dig is sign enough that he’s seriously unsettled. He lets it slide unaddressed, stumbling messily towards what he actually wants to confront.

Uri: I don’t think he likes you.

Now he’s got Farkle’s attention. He frowns, staring at him for a long moment.

Farkle: Huh?

Uri: Jordan. I don’t think he likes you very much.

Farkle: What -- what the hell are you talking about? [ putting his script down ] You’ve only known him for a couple days.

Uri: That was enough.

Farkle: You’ve barely seen us even -- like, where is this coming from? How could you possibly know that?

Uri: I’ve seen enough. I don’t think someone who cares about you would say the things he’s said about you.

Farkle doesn’t ask about what Uri is referring to -- his brain doesn’t think to investigate. He immediately lapses into defensive mode instead, not interested in learning more about Uri’s perspective and suddenly certain he needs to go on high alert to defend his own.

Farkle: You have to be kidding me. You’re seriously going to come at me like this when you’ve known my boyfriend for what, thirty hours total? Like you’ve had a secret girlfriend for a month and that suddenly makes you an expert in what makes a good relationship?

Uri: … I don’t have a girlfriend --

Farkle: Oh, shut up. All of us know you have a thing with Rosie Gardner. I’d say it’s cute that you think it’s so lowkey, but honestly it’s just kind of pathetic.

Oof! The tables being turned on him is enough to throw Uri off his game -- which was exactly Farkle’s aim, even if he had to be a little mean to accomplish it. Anything to throw the focus off of him, to stop throwing doubt on the relationship he can’t believe he’s lucky enough to have.

This is why Uri prefers not to talk. Because now he’s embarrassed, and unprepared, and he doesn’t want to know what other randomly cruel things Farkle might toss his way if he’s so determined to defend his lame boyfriend. So Uri retreats, getting to his feet and stuffing his hands in his sweatshirt pocket.

Uri: I just hope you know what you’re getting into. You’ve been through… it’s already been enough. [ awkward, but sincere ] I don’t want you to end up like that again.

The sentiment is coming from a genuine place, one of concern and worry and brotherly love (even from the least expressive of the family). And Farkle can sense that, can feel the authenticity of it even as it sounds stilted coming from Uri’s unpracticed lips. He may not have the perfect vocabulary, but he means it.

Farkle can’t accept it, though. Because if he does, then that means maybe something is wrong -- and he doesn’t want to believe the possibility that the dream relationship he’s been waiting so long to have, to have any romance, is built on broken foundations.

Farkle: I don’t need your concern. I’m the older brother; I don’t need your lectures on romance. I can take care of myself.

Well… if you say so. Uri doesn’t argue, backing off and leaving Farkle alone without saying goodnight. Leaving the conversation feeling decidedly unfinished, the wrongness of it hanging over Farkle’s head as he reenters the lonely silence. He tries to shake it off, but it sticks with him, creeping up his spine like a haunting. He groans, hiding his head in his hands.

Why is it when he finally gets something right, when he gets what he’s so sure he wants, something else has to shake loose and come tumbling apart?

Why is he destined to always, always be fixing another broken part of himself?

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Forever… (is a long time)” as performed by Halsey || Performed by Farkle Minkus

Farkle drops his hands from his face, launching into the gentle soliloquy of a pop track as he stares blankly into the distance. He reflects on his past through the opening lines -- the misguided priorities, the envy, his sarcastic barbed tongue -- some of the same struggles Uri was alluding to. The anxieties that were creeping back in at USC, the certainty that he’s meant to push everyone away and end up a nothing.

Then, a miracle happened.

He cut me open Sucked the poison from an aging wound

Farkle gets to his feet and walks towards the wall of windows, looking out towards the city at night. A million twinkling lights, hundreds of thousands of other lives turning oblivious to him, separated from him with a protective casing of glass. A light rain is falling, creating droplets on the pane.

EXT. MINKUS HOME - NIGHT

We flip to see Farkle from the other side of the window, his expression grim and half-shrouded in the shadows of the darkened living room. Moonlight lights the other half of his face, leaving him looking paler than usual as the first half of the song peters out and the piano takes over.

INT. MINKUS HOME - PIANO ROOM - NIGHT

Farkle is at the piano, playing through the interlude, a distinctly moody atmosphere laced throughout. The shadows persist in this space, a room that may or may not actually exist in the Minkus home rather than Farkle’s imagination. The latter feels more likely, given that the large, airy room is damningly plain and empty, save for the grand piano and the lone window splashing a frame of light across him.

His playing is skillful as ever though, imbued with a natural emotional resonance only a gifted instrumentalist can convey. A talent he’s always had, even if it seems to have fallen to the wayside lately. And even though the emotion is palpable, it’s clear Farkle isn’t sure precisely what it is he’s trying to express.

EXT. FINANCIAL DISTRICT - NIGHT

The image fades back to outside Farkle’s window as the piano interlude concludes, transitioning into the darker, more conflicted half of the performance. The camera pans down the side of the towering apartment building, arriving at the ground floor where Farkle is waiting. He’s standing in front of the revolving doors, no coat, letting the rain wash over him. Almost as if he doesn’t even realize it’s there.

Dissociated, not totally a part of himself as he gets lost deep in the darkest corners of his mind.

He sings the remaining lines directly towards the camera as he walks forward, not seemingly heading in any direction.

Cause I could never hold a perfect thing And not demolish it What am I thinking? What does this mean? How could somebody ever love me?

Home grows smaller in the background behind him, in the slow and steady march towards nothing, disappearing into the fog of self-doubt.

Tell him he’s got bad news coming…

INT. NYU APARTMENT - DAY

Lucas is at the kitchen counter, patiently waiting for Riley. He pauses from flipping through the NYU course catalogue when he gets a text. Charlie has sent him the listing information for the apartment he’s renting -- at Lucas’s request, based on his previous message.

He quickly closes the thread when Riley emerges from her bedroom though, rushing to grab her shoes. She looks adorable, dressing her cutest and most approachable for the group date. She gets one of her shoes on and hops back towards her room, giving Lucas an apologetic look.

Riley: I promise, I promise I’m almost ready. Just one more minute.

Lucas: Take your time. No worries.

He’s not in any rush to get to this thing. Riley gifts him a grateful smile and disappears back into her room. Isa pokes their head out of their room, confirming that Riley has retreated before joining Lucas in the kitchen area. They begrudgingly clear their throat, waiting for Lucas to grant them reluctant eye contact.

Isa: I’m still pissed at you. For the record.

Lucas doesn’t bat an eye. Big shocker. He apathetically spins his finger in a circle, like whoop-de-do. Isa narrows their glare, but carries on.

Isa: If I could, I would continue to ignore you and be pissed in peace, but unfortunately, there are problems bigger than the two of us that I need your help with.

Seems unlikely these days, but Isa only has to say one key word to get him back on their side.

Isa: It’s about Riley.

Bingo. Lucas grows more serious, straightening up. Isa takes a deep breath, glancing towards Riley’s room to confirm that she’s still out of earshot.

Isa: It’s… I normally wouldn’t make a big deal about this, but it’s been bothering me for weeks. I don’t know what else to do. And now he’s going to be at this stupid date thing, and I need someone else to be on alert. Keep an eye out for Riley --

Lucas: Dora. Get to it. What’s wrong with Riley?

Isa: Nothing. She’s fine; she doesn’t know. [ meeting his eyes ] It’s Nigel.

That’s not the name you expect to hear in this context. Lucas frowns.

INT. GARDNER HOME - KITCHEN - DAY

Charlie returns from walking Skippy and getting the mail, unleashing the beagle to let him roam free while he takes the mail to the kitchen. He sifts through it quickly, basically all of it for his parents.

He pauses on one letter, addressed to his mother, with the words “THANK YOU FOR YOUR DONATION” stamped across the front. The return address lists the organization as “The Conservative Enrichment and Advancement Charitable Foundation.”

Charlie’s never heard of it, and it’s probably one of many faith-based organizations his family donates to, but it makes him uneasy to see it. He can’t help but wonder now what that money might be going towards, or rather, who it may be affecting… but the aid feels more dangerous than benevolent.

It’s a good thing he’s planning to find his own place. He doesn’t think he could spend every day rediscovering another layer of his home to be wary of.

He’s distracted from digging further into the letter by a familiar voice on the TV -- which is concerning, considering the channel is reliably turned to the local equivalent of Fox News. He looks towards the TV and is shocked to find Jack Hunter on screen. Charlie quickly moves into the living area and lunges for the remote, turning up the volume to hear what’s being said.

It’s not that Jack is actually on the channel -- they’re simply playing a clip from an interview he gave earlier on a smaller news outlet. That’s where the relief ends, though. The moment the clip concludes, Jack giving a charming smile after wrapping up his sentiments on advocating for equity across the county and his goal to address systemic issues within the board and chain of command itself, they throw back to the commentators who are in a live interview with RYAN CONNELLY.

When he gets the chance to respond, he doesn’t hesitate.

Connelly: Hunter’s ambitions are noble, but that’s all they are -- ambitions. Jackson is very skilled at griping about what he doesn’t like about how things are done, but rarely does he actually accomplish or put forward any constructive alternatives. And that’s something we need to be wary of, as members of this community and voters. Lofty ambitions can mean dollar signs disappearing into thin air, in the name of grand change, that never actually materializes. As a businessman, I can guarantee I wouldn’t let my own starry-eyed concepts of “change” derail the fiscal responsibility we on the board have to our constituents -- least of all to keep a student I have unfair favoritism towards enrolled in an expensive institution he doesn’t even want to be at.

Charlie frowns, not impressed. Particularly because he knows Jack, and he knows how sincere he is about the work. He can’t think of a more disingenuous take on his career.

Rosie noisily enters the house, making her way into the kitchen. She greets Charlie off-handedly, then backtracks when she sees what he’s watching. She sneers.

Rosie: You’re not seriously watching that, are you?

Charlie: What? Oh, no. No. [ turning off the TV ] Just something that caught my attention.

Rosie: Okay. Don’t scare me like that.

Charlie: To be fair, we’ve been secondhand inhaling a lot of those talking points since we were babies. I think if right-wing media were going to infect us by now, it would have.

Rosie: I’m not taking any chances. Sunday service is plenty.

Rosie grabs a snack from the fridge, asking why Charlie is even home to be around to be exposed to it. Doesn’t he have things to do? Colleges to scout? Friends to hang out with after being MIA en Europe for a million years? Charlie rolls his eyes.

Charlie: Unfortunately, they’re busy.

Rosie: Without you? Wow. I thought the hype around you coming back would’ve lasted longer.

Charlie: It’s not like that. It’s a specific thing for which I do not have the specific requirements to be invited.

Rosie: Like what? Pagan picnic or something?

Charlie: Double date.

Oh. Yeah, he definitely doesn’t qualify for that. In fact, it’s a quintuple date, to which Rosie cringes.

Rosie: Oh my gosh. That sounds like a nightmare. Even contemplating a normal date feels stressful enough.

Charlie: It’s… a choice. But it’s Riley, so.

Rosie: Ohh. Makes sense. Still, I would not want to be there. Sounds like hell -- I mean, heck.

Rosie shrugs, focusing on her snack. Charlie might agree, but he doesn’t seem fully convinced. He mirrors her shrug.

Charlie: Maybe. If you’re with the right person…

Anything’s doable. But he isn’t with anyone, so he’s spared regardless. As soft pop music floats in…

EXT. ROCKEFELLER ICE RINK - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Let’s Get Lost” as performed by Carly Rae Jepsen || Instrumental

You could sub in just about any unobtrusive pop song to underscore this little montage that kicks off the group date, but CRJ hits the right vibe every time. Riley has arranged for their outing to start with something fun and classic Manhattan, all of them enjoying The Rink at Rockefeller Center.

It’s an interesting way to snapshot each of the couples, as even little glimpses in this setting are telling. Riley has managed to drag Lucas out onto the ice by some miracle (typical of her), but he’s mostly running interference for her to keep her from falling while she playfully attempts a spin or to pick up speed. Essentially, he’s her on-ice support. Asher has forgone the ice entirely, sticking to the sidelines with a hot chocolate, and Dylan doesn’t pressure him otherwise. He simply skates his way over every now and then -- one of the most comfortable on the ice with his years of honing his balance on a skateboard -- and chats with his boyfriend, exchanging conspiratorial whispers and grins. Asher gifts him a sip of hot chocolate and a kiss on the cheek before he’s off again, purposefully catching up to Riley and Lucas to almost knock them over and jump into their duo.

At the same time, Zay and Vanessa are unable to help their nature, having found a way to make ice skating competitive by seeing who can get further out on the ice faster without slipping up. This is especially ridiculous considering neither of them are skaters, and for all the grace he has on stage Zay seems to have no skill on the ice. They bicker and gripe at each other and don’t hold back their amusement when the other fumbles, but they’re laughing too, so there’s that. Meanwhile, Jade and Nigel are cautiously working through navigating the ice together, taking it slow but steady. Neither of them are familiar with the terrain, but they’re giving it their best effort, keeping their gloved hands clasped together tight so they don’t spin out and collapse.

Jordan is essentially doing the same routine with Farkle, only it doesn’t quite hit the same. Because while he’s helping guide him, apparently a decent skater himself, his support is not as stalwart and judgment-free as Lucas and nowhere near as gentle as Jade and Nigel. Even his playful commentary, akin to Zay and Vanessa, doesn’t actually feel affectionate. It’s played that way, for sure, but it has that thick layer of condescension slathered on top of it.

Jordan: Look at you, oh, babe. You’re like a baby horse who hasn’t learned how to walk. Or a giraffe, I suppose -- the height and everything.

Farkle, bashful: [ with a laugh ] Well maybe my trainer isn’t very good at teaching!

Jordan: [ with a faux gasp of offense ] Are you criticizing my directorial ability? In that case --

Jordan lets Farkle’s hands go, drifting away from him slightly -- and totally stranding him out on the ice. Farkle panics slightly, a bad move on ice, and immediately starts to lose his balance. He nearly trips and face plants, but Jordan swerves in to catch him just in time, stabilizing both of them. He gives him a smirk.

Jordan: Just admit it. You so need me.

Farkle smiles sheepishly, but at least has the self-respect not to cop to that. They continue to joke with one another back and forth, continuing their journey onto the ice… but their little exchange hasn’t left a rosy impression with Zay. He overheard most of it and seems discontent, distracted enough by it that he lets Vanessa get a lap on him without even noticing.

INT. RESTAURANT - LATER - DAY

After all that high-energy fun, the group relocates to a venue for an early dinner, all seated by couple around a circular table. The music peters out and fades into more orchestral background music as the scene settles, everyone digging into their food and letting that delay the need for conversation as long as possible.

Once the avoidance starts to feel obvious, Riley intervenes, clearing her throat and declaratively placing her silverware on her plate. She turns her smile on Jordan, aiming for the newbie as the most promising source of conversation.

Riley: So, Jordan. You came all the way from L.A., right?

Jordan: That’s right. [ elbowing Farkle ] Thought I’d surprise this guy. Wanted to make sure he didn’t forget about me.

Zay: It’s been like a week.

Jade: Have you always lived in L.A.?

Jordan: Born and raised. My parents have been long-time players in the industry.

It really takes no effort to get Jordan to talk about himself. He fills the silence plenty with facts about himself, everyone else listening but not finding any sort of great opening to foster discussion… finally, Dylan makes an effort, cutting off one of Jordan’s stories about the valley cinema scene prematurely. He plays it off as enthusiasm.

Dylan: So how did you get to know Farkle?

Jordan takes the bait, mentioning their shared course work this semester in the director workshop… then somehow manages to bring it back around to himself. Dylan holds a smile on his face, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

Riley: Farkle, how did you win him over? We haven’t gotten the full story yet.

Farkle: Oh, well… it involved careful consideration, smooth moves…

Jordan: David Bowie.

Farkle laughs, sharing happily in their little inside joke. He doesn’t realize Jordan interrupted him to co-opt the conversation, telling his version of events in how their relationship came to be.

Finally, he has the instinct to share the spotlight, offering the question back to them.

Jordan: How about you? How did you all… end up together?

All of the Adams cohort exchanges a look, not sure where to begin or who should start first.

Dylan: I showed up to school on the first day, saw a bird-boned guy with a pocket comb, and decided well, that’s that then.

Damn right! Jade takes a similar approach and keeps it concise, explaining that she’d had a crush on Nigel for a while during class but they didn’t act on anything until senior year.

Zay: Once Nigel finally grew a pair.

Nigel, flatly: Thank you, Zay. Thank you so much.

Zay: You’re welcome, pal.

Jordan: So you all met in school? At Adams.

Farkle: Not Vanessa. She went to one of our rivals, actually, Quincy High.

Jordan: Oh, well that’s nice then. Star-crossed lovers prevail.

That’s a dramatic way of putting it -- and based on both their expressions, not how either of them would ever describe it. Vanessa chokes slightly on her food.

Vanessa: I wouldn’t… say…

Zay: It wasn’t quite like that. We started dating in college.

Dylan: Yeah, that happened after the dare to stand in short-shorts in Central Park for being a loser.

Thanks for the reminder, Dyl. Vanessa glances at Zay sheepishly, who gives her an apologetic look. They’ve been doing a pretty good job downplaying that little competitive edge to their history…

Jordan: [ to Lucas ] And how about you? With a girl like Riley, surely you jumped on that train as soon as she pulled into the station.

At that, Asher actually snorts. Lucas shoots him a glare and he clears his throat, pretending to cough and reaching for his glass to hide his amusement.

Riley, diplomatically: We got there eventually.

As conversation stiffly moves on, Riley elbows Lucas lightly and gives him a reassuring smile. He returns it, albeit bashfully, linking their hands together under the table.

Took a minute, but they’re here now. That’s all that matters.

INT. JACK AND ERIC’S PLACE - DAY

Meanwhile, Josh is down a rabbit hole, scrolling through reviews, comments, and online chatter about “LolliPop.” It’s remarkably positive given the hellscape that is the internet -- complimentary to the groove, loving the pop excellence, highlighting the actual craftsmanship that underscores the bubblegum goodness. Josh should be pleased by the praise; he should be ecstatic.

But he isn’t. Because the praise isn’t his to claim, not in a way that matters to anyone. No one has any clue who he is. All the favor is going to Maya, and if not her in the rare instances where someone actually remembers artists have producing teams that work with them, his bosses are getting the credit instead.

Conflicted, Josh pulls open his messages and brings up his group chat with Melissa and Justin. He isn’t sure what the best way to go about this is -- whether a text is too casual, or a call too formal. He wonders if he should be able to confront them in person, or if whatever explanation they provide will sting too sharply if he has to face it head on.

He just wants to know. He has to understand.

Why?

He’s pulled out of the moment before he can do anything about it, Andrew coming downstairs. He’s in a chipper mood, enjoying his tour of NYC thus far and eager for more. He claims they’re going to the Met this afternoon -- then he catches Josh’s ensemble, a whole bunch of sweatpants glory.

Andrew: You really wearing that? I mean, no problem if so. Your vibes, not mine.

So supportive. Josh hesitates, then admits he doesn’t feel up to much this afternoon. He fibs and says it must be something he ate, rather than copping to the diet of despair he’s been feeding on that’s creating an ulcer in his stomach.

But Andrew sees through that. He knows Josh, too well, and he knows it has to be about the music. It’s gotta be about work. He sighs in disappointment -- this is supposed to be their time to take on this city together…

Then he lets it go. Josh is hurting, even if he won’t admit it, and he isn’t going to push him too hard. He raises his hands in surrender and states he’s gonna go anyway, but all he needs to do is text him if and when he’s feeling better.

Andrew: I’d rather have you there with me though, bro. Just so we’re clear.

Josh offers a weak smile, appreciative. Once Andrew disappears into the kitchen, Josh turns his gaze back towards his computer, where more misery is just waiting for him to indulge.

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Yindra and Charlie have set up shop in a corner booth, the latter sitting with his guitar on his lap. They’re sorting through sheet music, Yindra trying to help him pick through it for good audition songs. Given that it feels like half the population of Manhattan is out on a date right now, the diner is relatively quiet.

That is, until Maya waltzes through the door. She scans the booths eagerly, hoping to find certain faces… but she’s disappointed by the low turnout. All she’s got is the two in the corner, who she saunters over towards in a huff.

Maya: What the hell is this?

Charlie: Afternoon to you too…

Maya: Where the hell is everyone? It’s like a Blockbuster shareholders meeting in here.

Yindra: Haven’t you heard? The entire population of “people who have a life” are out on Riley’s triple-quadruple-septuple date.

Maya groans pointedly. Seriously? She thought Farkle spending basically all of break wrapped up in Jordan was bad enough -- does everyone have to be playing romantic? In this, the year of our Lord, 2021?

Charlie: Well, might not be so terrible if we were actually included.

Maya: I’d rather eat tar.

Yindra: We should’ve lied and told them we were together now. At least we’d have an invite then.

Charlie: We’re gay.

Yindra: You could change me.

How sweet. Maya rolls her eyes, assuring them she’s positive they’re not missing out. Hanging out with one couple is bad enough -- hanging out with multiple, particularly with their crop of weirdos, is probably torture.

Maya: Not to mention I’m sure Nelson is sucking up all the air in the room like a black hole. [ lowering her voice ] Just between us, I cannot stand that man.

Yindra: … didn’t he direct your star-making music video?

Maya: First of all, what makes a star-making product is the star itself -- namely, me. Second, being creative or talented does not shield you from being awful. Like, did you even go to Triple A?

Touché. Indignant vent out of the way, Maya realizes she frankly dominated their conversation and gets a better look at their set up, eyeing the sheet music.

Maya: What’s all this about?

Charlie cautiously explains that he asked Yindra to help him sift through potential songs for some of the college auditions he has coming up. He’s not really applying to any performing programs as his major -- he’s decided that’s definitely not his thing -- but he is considering a double major or minor, for which some of the universities still require a portfolio. It’s lower stakes than say, Tisch or Turner, but he still wants to make a good impression.

Charlie: The nice thing is because it’s not that serious, I have a bit more flexibility about what to perform. I don’t necessarily have to stick to Broadway or ballet -- I can kind of do whatever. I think they just want proof that I’m not tone-deaf.

Now an audition, that’s interesting. Maya perks up and takes a handful of the sheet music without asking, flipping through it to offer her grand expertise in all things showmanship. Charlie starts to say something but then thinks better of it -- no point -- exchanging a silent look with Yindra instead. Here we go…

Maya: Boring. [ flip ] Boring. [ flip ] Below your capability --

Oh, well, that’s kind of nice. Charlie’s smile lasts for about a second, until the next piece Maya looks at is apparently so offensive to her diva sensibilities that she can’t even put it into words. She simply shakes her head, giving him a disappointed look.

Maya: [ like, really ] Charlie Gardner.

What does she want from him? Yindra is about to jump in to end this madness when Maya seems to find something she likes, brightening and pulling the sheet from the pile with triumph. Now this, this has a little spunk! A bit of pizazz! She hands it to Charlie, gesturing for him to prep his guitar.

Maya: I can show you how it’s done. Got to give it a little flavor, so be sure to take notes.

Charlie: I really don’t think we need to --

Maya: Charlie Gardner, don’t take this from me. It’ll help assuage my angst.

A good performance always does… well, suppose there’s no arguing with that. Yindra rolls her eyes, doing her best not to laugh at Maya’s ridiculousness. As Charlie checks the tuning on his guitar and rolls into the opening licks…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Who Needs You” as performed by Queen || Performed by Maya Hart, Yindra Amino, and Charlie Gardner

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

Maya takes the first verse as a solo, showing how it’s done as she promised. She dances around the basically empty diner, eventually roping Charlie and Yindra into following along. There is something remarkable about Maya’s ability to sell a tune, because by the time they round into the first chorus, she’s gotten the two of them into the groove.

Yindra and Charlie jump in with harmonies and oohs while Maya belts about things being “dog eat dog in this rat race,” then Charlie slides effortlessly into the guitar solo. It’s a good reminder of how yes, Charlie actually is a pretty good guitar player, and Maya even gives him the gift of not overshadowing him during it to let him have the spotlight. Yindra dances along with him, the two of them exchanging playful grins.

Yindra: I like it, I like it!

While the miniature jam session is played off casual, the chosen song actually speaks to a lot of the emotions brewing at the moment. It’s a cheeky, fuck off gesture to all the couples coupling it up in the city right now; it’s a display of bravado for Maya to hide behind, still not sure how to process her argument with Josh and the assumptions he made about her.

INT. EMERALD CITY LOUNGE - DAY

It also speaks, perhaps subconsciously, to what she thinks about Farkle’s relationship. During the final verse, as Maya sings about someone charming and “oh so sophisticated,” but not interested in their naive paramour, the performance underscores further glimpses of the tail end of the group date. They’ve retired to the Emerald City Lounge, allowing folks to spread out a bit more, but naturally the couples are still sticking together.

And Jordan continues to demonstrate his… unique fondness for Farkle. He makes jokes at his expense, said with fondness yet distinctly belittling that make Farkle blush and become uncharacteristically shy; he condescends and acts like he has everything in the world to teach Farkle as if the latter hasn’t been coming to this lounge since he was in diapers. Even though Jordan is affectionate, it edges into possessive, always making sure Farkle isn’t more than an arm’s length from his side.

All of the above, Zay notices. He seems unable to look away, like a trainwreck, something about the small details hitting him like darts.

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Beyond that, though, the song is just a catchy little acoustic bop. It’s particularly fun to see an uncommon trio perform it too, providing us with a new harmony of vocals we don’t usually get to experience. They finish up the rendition with flair. Maya hops onto the front counter, crossing her legs and flipping her hair off her shoulder with a flourish, as Yindra and Charlie lean against the stools on either side of her.

Charlie sweeps through the last guitar notes, Maya giving him a light, airy shrug of her shoulders. Told you so!

Never doubt the musical taste of one Maya Hart.

INT. EMERALD CITY LOUNGE - DAY

The couples have shaken up a bit, Lucas and Jade still settled at the table where the group was sitting earlier. They’re idly chatting, not having gotten a chance to see much of each other during the semester. They weren’t exactly close during high school, but a techie is a techie, and they’re essentially family because of that. So even if the conversation is slow, it’s not uncomfortable.

Jade avoids talking much about Anya Kelly, or the job she might very well leave, but she is more than interested to hear about Lucas’s new job with Evelyn Rand. He doesn’t say much either, partly because it’s so new and mainly because Lucas can’t talk, but she gets the gist.

Jade: I think it’s really cool what you’re doing. You know, not giving up. Even with… all the bullshit.

Lucas: Oh, yeah? You might be the first to say so. [ taking a sip of his drink ] Or to even think I’m still doing anything. You sure you believe it?

Jade: I know that’s not right. I don’t even have to know to know that Riley thinks you’re doing amazing.

You got him there. Yes, Riley will always be the exception… Lucas nods, conceding that point as he gazes towards Riley, who is by the bar getting another mocktail.

Jade: And in any case, yes, I believe it. I get it, things not being… I’m trying to accept the fact that the paths to what we think we want aren’t necessarily straight and narrow.

Lucas: To speak for Dylan, “damn right.”

Jade: [ with an eye roll ] Anyway, my point is, it’s okay for there to be detours. Or things not to go as planned. I think it’s good that you’re not throwing in the towel after one obstacle. I don’t know if you two or three years ago would’ve done that. [ elbowing him lightly ] You’re doing good, captain.

Coming from Jade, who has never cut him slack for no reason, that’s a nice sentiment. Lucas offers a small smile, trying to take the compliment to heart.

Lucas: Thanks. Same to you, but that was never a doubt with you.

Jade: I don’t know about that. [ with a deep breath ] I don’t know if I’m just telling you all this is okay, or if I’m trying to convince myself of it too.

Lucas: Do you need that?

Jade: It’s… it’s been a weird semester. For everyone I know, feels like. [ glancing towards Nigel ] Let’s just say we are definitely not at Adams anymore.

True enough. Lucas follows her gaze to where Nigel is standing with Dylan, Asher, and Jordan, humoring the latter’s stories of Hollywood glamor. Dylan seems to be trying his absolute best to find something to like about him, listening almost too enthusiastically, but there’s just some first impressions that don’t wear away.

Lucas isn’t focused on that anyway. He’s eyeing Nigel, with less empathy than Jade, more suspicious of his presence amongst them now that Isa has planted the truth about his behavior in his head.

Over by the bar, Riley is patiently waiting for her drink, taking in the decor of the lounge. For how often her peers end up here, she’s yet to have passed through the hallowed evergreen doors.

Vanessa tentatively approaches the bar to join her, also taking in the scenery. She clears her throat.

Vanessa: Pretty swanky place, huh?

Riley: Sure is. I have heard my classmates rave about this place and all its mystique for years -- even when I went to public school freshman year, people knew about it. Kind of surreal to be standing inside it.

Vanessa: [ with a nod ] Double that considering I’m in the company of people almost entirely made up of folks who constituted sworn enemies a year ago. Life comes at you fast.

Hear, hear. Vanessa gives her drink order to the bartender when they ask, then Riley continues the conversation.

Riley: It’s not weird, by the way. You being from Quincy. I mean, admittedly, all the drama last year during fitness week was a bit much --

Vanessa: Trust me, I’m aware. It’s the theatrics. Though it wasn’t just me.

Riley: Sure wasn’t. No one beats Maya Hart for theatrics. But that’s kind of my point. Just because you went somewhere else and did the whole rivalry thing doesn’t make it impossible for you to find a new flock. Believe me, I know that better than anyone. I didn’t really feel like I found my place until I transferred to Adams and met this crop.

Vanessa: They’re certainly unique.

Riley: One-of-a-kind. [ giving her a smile ] I think you fit in just fine.

It helps that there are people like Riley, who are so willing to extend an olive branch and open hand in welcome. Riley points out that it isn’t just her -- if Zay didn’t find either of them worth getting to know, they wouldn’t be standing there right now.

Riley: Zay has the best taste of anyone I know. With rare exception -- he has opinions about Lucas -- I’d never doubt his judgment of character.

Vanessa manages a smile. Speaking of… she glances around to make sure no one else is listening, then lowers her voice. Her question is timid.

Vanessa: Actually, can I ask you something?

Riley senses her apprehension, getting the impression that this is serious. She turns to face her, giving them a semblance of privacy. Vanessa starts to speak but then is interrupted by the bartender arriving with her drink. She and Riley both offer thanks with well-practiced smiles, waiting for him to retreat… then Vanessa takes a deep breath.

Vanessa: Zay… and Charlie. Is that… should I be…

She isn’t even sure how to ask what she wants to know -- or, in fact, what she really wants to know. But the names together are enough to give Riley a clue. She should’ve known this might come up. Now that Charlie is back in town…

Riley: I assume Zay told you about them.

Vanessa: Enough. [ a beat ] I don’t want to come off like, crazy possessive partner or anything. I’m not asking like that. And I don’t want to like ask Zay outright -- I feel like that would be so… dramatic, and I don’t want to put pressure on him. It would be so weird. I’m just trying to get a sense of… I mean, how much should I care? I totally think it’s fine that they’re friends, and all that, in fact that’s pretty cool. I don’t know if I could be friends with an ex. I just want to know if…

There’s reason to be concerned. Yeah. Riley nods along, thinking about the question for a long moment as to not say the wrong thing. There’s a lot of loyalties she’s balancing, but she wants to give Vanessa her most honest take.

Riley: I’m not going to tell you there isn’t history there. There is. It’s… complicated.

That’s putting it generously. Vanessa nods. Riley quickly elaborates.

Riley: But I don’t think you need to worry. Genuinely. Charlie is one of the kindest, most thoughtful people in the world. He would never, ever try to interfere in someone else’s relationship -- let alone Zay’s.

Vanessa: Right. Yeah, I… I got that impression.

Riley: He’s got a good heart. Truly. And to be honest, I don’t even know where he’s at with his feelings right now. He’s been gone, and we haven’t exactly talked about it. And that’s his business, he doesn’t have to tell me if he doesn’t want to. I’m just saying, there’s not even a guarantee that he’s back like, full of unresolved feelings for your boyfriend.

That’s cute, Riley. Very sweet, wishful thinking. But she is right about Charlie’s character, that he would never meddle or try to throw himself in the middle.

Riley: And while I love him, and I say this with the utmost respect, none of that even matters. Zay chose to be with you. What Charlie feels about it doesn’t impact you. I think if Zay were planning to just dump you the second Charlie came back, he would’ve done it -- you wouldn’t be sitting here suffering through a quintuple date with the weirdest flock in Manhattan.

Vanessa: [ with a bashful laugh ] You’re not…

Riley: No, it’s fine. We’re freaks. You don’t have to disagree. My point is, Zay is with you. He made that choice, for whatever reason -- only he could tell you that. But what I know is he doesn’t do things for no reason, and when he dedicates himself to a decision, he commits. I wouldn’t worry about anyone else, history or not. The people who get to decide whether you two stay together are you and Zay.

All this to say, she can’t explain all of Zay’s decisions, but he’s clearly made them. She doesn’t think that any anxiety about Charlie’s reappearance should prompt Vanessa to break things off prematurely if she really does like being with Zay. No sense in acting in defense of an attack that may never materialize.

Vanessa absorbs that, nodding and thanking Riley for her honesty. She offers a warm smile in return, then lifts her drink to offer a cheers.

Riley: To new friends.

Vanessa chuckles, taking her drink and clinking it against Riley’s.

EXT. EMERALD CITY LOUNGE - DAY

The sun is setting as Farkle and Jordan say goodbye for now, exchanging a long kiss. Farkle thanks him for going along with the whole group date idea -- he knows they can be a lot.

Jordan: As if that’s so different from you alone?

Farkle: Touché.

Jordan: But no, it was fine. Your friends are quite the crew. Riley is adorable. Cute, just like you.

That would be sweet, if it wasn’t laced with that ever present slight condescension. Farkle can’t even hear it, though, so wrapped up in the romance. Like, here he is, on an actual group date and not as the lone ninth wheel!

Jordan assures him he’ll see him tomorrow. And if he changes his mind about the whole New Year’s Eve thing, and wants to spend the night with him instead to ring in another year together… well, he wouldn’t say no. Just the two of them… a long, romantic night…

It is tempting. But Farkle doesn’t cave -- not this time -- not responding either way as he agrees to seeing him tomorrow as already planned. Jordan accepts that for now, gifting another kiss. He tells him to give Riley his best and then heads off down the street.

Farkle watches him go, smile lingering on his face. He’s so mesmerized, he doesn’t even hear Zay push out of the lounge behind him. Zay eyes Jordan walking away, waiting until he’s disappeared around the corner to clear his throat and make his presence known. Farkle jumps, then laughs when he sees who it is.

Farkle: Damn. You scared me.

Zay: As if that’s new? I thought it was my job to keep you on your toes and mildly terrified.

Farkle: You don’t think we’ve outgrown that a bit?

Zay: Absolutely not. Don’t flatter yourself.

Well then. Farkle takes it in stride, grateful for the familiarity of their dynamic. Zay hesitates, searching for the right way to say what he wants to say… he goes for the obvious route, pointing out that Jordan just left. First to leave? Farkle confirms, claiming he had to pack. He’s going back to L.A. tomorrow.

Zay: Ah.

Farkle: I’m glad he was able to be here, though. To meet you all. I didn’t even know he was going to come. He totally surprised me. [ with a giddy smile ] Isn’t that wild? Like, that he thought to surprise me like that.

He clearly can’t believe it. He is so won over, excited about this whole relationship thing.

Farkle: What did you think, by the way?

Zay: Of what?

Farkle: [ like, duh ] Of Jordan. I didn’t ever think I’d actually get the chance to introduce him to you. Or like, anyone here. And you know I respect your taste.

Zay: It would be silly if you didn’t.

Farkle: Yeah. So? [ with wide eyes ] What do you think?

God, Zay doesn’t want to be the one to burst his bubble… not when he’s standing there like a greyhound puppy, so enthusiastic about his approval. Jordan clearly makes him happy, or gives him something through their relationship. That should be good enough, shouldn’t it? Can’t that be enough?

But no. Zay knows it isn’t. Zay knows the unease that prickled through his shoulders every time he saw them together wasn’t without reason. It was a warning sign, a familiar pressure borne out of a knowledge he wishes he never had to learn. Not every toxic courtship is the same, but the flags are similar enough that he knows them when he sees them. He was a freshman too, when an older paramour got claws in him and totally turned his life upside down...

Zay: You really want my honest opinion?

Farkle: Yeah. Come on, Zay, we don’t have to make this a whole thing. I just want to know what you think.

If he says so… Zay takes a deep breath of cold Manhattan sunset, steeling his resolve.

Zay: I don’t like him.

Oh. That seems to take the wind out from under Farkle’s wings -- mostly because he never expected that response. He blinks, taken aback.

Farkle: What?

Zay: I don’t like him.

Farkle: Zay, seriously. Do you have to pick on me all the time? I just want you to tell me --

Zay: I’m not picking on you. I’m telling you the truth. I don’t like your boyfriend.

Farkle stares at him. Searching for the giveaway, the signal that this is just a joke, mean-spirited as it might be. But no, Zay’s features are sharp and unyielding as ever. He’s not messing around.

Once that sinks in, Farkle frowns.

Farkle: Why -- why not? [ affronted ] Why the hell not?

Zay: I’m not sure you’re ready to hear that.

Farkle: No, no fuck that. If you’re gonna say you don’t like him, then you should be able to back it up. [ a beat ] If you’re just saying it to be an asshole, then --

Zay: Okay. Fine. You want the laundry list? [ holding his hands in surrender ] He’s a prick. He’s a know-it-all, he’s smug, he can’t seem to talk about anything that doesn’t relate to him. And unlike Maya Hart, he can’t do it in a way that’s bizarrely endearing even as you want to put duct tape over her mouth.

Farkle: [ with a scoff ] That’s not -- why would you say that?

Zay: Because you wanted the truth. And I won’t speak for everyone else, but I bet if we went and asked them for their honest opinion -- and they were bold enough to share it -- they would say the same.

Farkle: No. Nuh-uh. [ with a huff ] Not everyone is as judgmental as you, Zay.

Zay: [ ignoring that ] But the main reason I don’t like him has nothing to do with that. It doesn’t have anything to do with him as a person -- I couldn’t give less of a shit about him. [ meeting his eyes ] What I don’t like most is how he treats you.

Farkle shakes his head lightly, baffled. What could he possibly be talking about?

Farkle: What does that mean? You don’t like that someone like, actually wants to pay a shred of attention to me, or God forbid date me? I know you thought me getting a boyfriend was so shocking, but --

Zay: That’s not what I’m saying. What I’m talking about is how he belittles you constantly, and talks down to you. He interrupts you. He undercuts your accomplishments, corrects you, and gets you to change your opinion to match his.

Farkle: He -- he doesn’t --

Zay: He texts you all the time, always wanting to know where you are or who you’re with. He gets you to change plans for him. He springs surprises on you that change everything to revolve around him with absolutely no warning, and then gets moody if you don’t match those expectations. Most unbearably, he acts like you’re an infant who would be lost without his help. Like him choosing to date you, little baby freshman that you are, is the kindest, most gracious gift of his generous heart, like a damn act of service.

Farkle, overwhelmed: … nuh-uh --

Zay: It shouldn’t be an act of service to date you, Farkle. You should be with someone who thinks being with you is a privilege, not an act of charity.

Zay is saying all the right things, making every point that needs to be raised… but Farkle can’t hear it. He’s not ready, wasn’t prepared to hear the truth. He shakes his head wordlessly, literally unable to process the accusations laid at his feet and so afraid of their potential truth that he rejects them outright.

Instead, in another classic red-flag response, he gets defensive.

Farkle: This is so rich. I should’ve known this would happen.

Zay: What?

Farkle: You’re really so threatened by me suddenly being desirable, being a fraction as cool as you, that you have to tear it all down.

Zay stares at him, dumbstruck. No way.

Zay: Is this for fucking real?

Farkle: That’s what I’m asking.

Zay: You think I’m telling you that your boyfriend is a cocky, condescending shit --

Farkle, harshly: Shut up.

Zay: Because I’m jealous of you? Like you go to Los Angeles and get one role in a show and an annoying as fuck boyfriend and finally stop wearing blazers, and suddenly I feel so inferior in your presence that I have to make up a bunch of shit to bring you down? [ laughing incredulously ] Like I said, do not flatter yourself. That’s not what this is.

Farkle: Does the gentleman doth protest too much…

Man, watching delusional defensive reactions is hard to swallow. Zay uses every ounce of good grace in his body not to really tear Farkle to shreds, staying on topic. He holds his glare, keeping his voice even.

Zay: Farkle, I am saying this to you because against my better judgment -- Lord knows why -- I care about you. You’re my friend, and I don’t want to see you get hurt. It is nothing more than that. I’ve been in this trench before, and I never want to go back. I’m hoping you’ll escape from it too before you’re too far deep to dig your way out.

Zay clearly means it. Farkle can sense it, the authenticity in his voice, just like Uri… but just like his brother, he can’t accept it. He can’t, because if he does, then the entire fantasy comes crashing down.

Farkle: Not all of us are destined to have shitty relationships, Zay.

Oh, ouch! Farkle needed a kill shot, and he took it -- desperate times call for desperate measures. Zay absorbs the blow, honestly stunned he had the guts to say that to his face… and then he scoffs a laugh, shaking his head.

But he can’t be mad at him. Even as his blood boils at the insinuations packed into that statement, including from knowledge Zay never intended for Farkle to have, he holds back. Because he remembers how it feels to be where he is, where you’ll say or do anything to preserve the world where a bad relationship is okay.

Zay: Okay, Farkle. Whatever you say.

Farkle clearly feels guilty for saying it, expression sheepish, but he doesn’t back down. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and turns the other way, starting the chilly walk home alone. Zay watches him go, torn over whether to follow and get him to see reason… but it wouldn’t be any use. You can’t wake someone up who more than anything wants to stay dead to reality.

But that doesn’t mean it won’t drive you crazy to watch.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Dominic’s Interlude” as performed by Dominic Fike || Performed by Zay Babineaux

Continuing the Halsey triad of the episode, Zay takes this installment, once again doing justice to Dominic Fike’s discography. The performance of it is simple, the camera slowly easing back from being close on Zay as he sings. The street grows longer in front of him and the world more vast around him as the lens widens and widens, shrinking Zay and his influence.

The interlude is fitting for the moment -- a friend watching another trapped in the vice of a less-than-stellar relationship -- even as Zay works hard to maintain his aloofness towards Farkle. They’ve never been especially sweet or close, but he can’t help but feel protective, in spite of his desire to be above it all.

But as he becomes smaller and smaller in the eye of the camera, his ability to do something feels more and more meaningless.

You can take a chance, come take my hand…

The track winds down as the camera spins, effortlessly transitioning --

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “I HATE EVERYBODY” as performed by Halsey || Performed by Farkle Minkus

Into the last piece of the musical triad. Farkle’s shoes stomp along the sidewalk as the delicate opening instrumentation of Halsey’s soliloquy kicks off. As we pan up, we come back face-to-face with him, running a hand through his hair in a huff and clearly in a mood after that confrontation.

It feels even more sour because part of him, however buried, knows he’s wrong.

My friends are gettin' bored of me Sayin' I fell in love with a stranger I don't know what they all think of me

The performance is emotional, albeit tempered, as Farkle tries to keep his cool in public. But he’s clearly overwhelmed by all of it -- the potentially toxic romance he doesn’t want to see, being surrounded by the old when he still hasn’t figured out how to live in the new, trying so hard to trust his own instincts he might be pushing away the genuine guidance of people who care about him. He’s never been good at stuff like this, but it feels like he’s backsliding more than ever these days.

Everyone else seems to have their shit together. Why is it just him, always, who can’t seem to get it right?

EXT. NEW YORK CITY HALL PARK - DAY

Farkle makes it back to his neighborhood, arriving at the signature fountain in New York City Hall Park just as the sunset is painting the sky red-orange above him. During the twinkly, softer bridge, he looks down at his reflection in the water of the fountain, his uncertain expression mirrored back to him over discarded spare change.

If I could make you love me Maybe you could make me love me And if I can't make you love me Then I'll just hate everybody

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Farkle launches into the final chorus, barely held together at the seams as he races back to his building. It’s like the tendrils of reality are chasing him down, right on his heels, and if they catch him then he doesn’t know what he’ll do. It’s easier to stay on the defensive -- to pretend everything is perfect, deny the hard stuff, and hate everybody who would dare suggest otherwise.

EXT. MINKUS BUILDING - DAY

And yet, the doubt lingers. The tendrils are creeping up on him. Because as Farkle stops outside his building, he slams right into the last, soft confession of the number and brings it to an abrupt halt.

But maybe I, maybe I don’t

The music ceases, letting the soundscape of the city bleed back in around Farkle as he sits with that potential realization. Then he shakes it off, spinning and pushing into the revolving door to his building.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - NIGHT

Nigel and Jade walk home together after the date officially wraps up, the streetlights aglow as the sun officially sets behind the towering skyline of the city. They’re making each other giggle as they debrief that odd but somewhat fun experience, remarking on all the dynamics.

Even so, Nigel is still a bit on edge -- as long as his former behavior is haunting him, he doesn’t think he’ll ever relax again. He points out that he felt like Lucas was pretty cold towards him.

Jade: I don’t know that I’d say that.

Nigel: You didn’t notice? He didn’t say two words to me the entire time. He wouldn’t look me in the eyes, and when he was looking, he was definitely glaring.

Jade: That’s just his face.

Nigel: … but --

Jade: Look, with love, I think you’re being paranoid. You feel bad about Riley, and so now you’re hypervigilant. I get that. But I wouldn’t read into Lucas’s behavior -- one, it’s like impossible because he’s a weirdo, and two, it’s dumb to take ninety percent of what he does personally. He has the social etiquette of a feral barn cat, it probably has nothing to do with you.

To be fair, Jade isn’t wrong. Nigel wouldn’t be the first person to be convinced Lucas hated them even if he didn’t.

Jade: In all honesty, I’d bet money that Lucas doesn’t even think about you enough to be judging you. He has enough on his plate.

In short, and with fondness, Nigel needs to chill. Jade leans closer and takes his hand, squeezing it and reminding him everything is okay. He made a mistake, but that’s life. He can’t let it haunt him forever. They’ll have New Year’s with the gang, and he can let all of this guilt go with the past year. He’s only going to drive himself crazy otherwise.

Like it never even happened.

INT. ZAY’S CAR - NIGHT

Zay pulls up outside Vanessa’s apartment building, dropping her off after the date. She thanks him for the ride, though insists for the record she could’ve gotten home just fine on her own via the subway.

Zay: Yeah, yeah, I get it, you’re independent. You’re oh so impressive for your girlboss independence, Miss Johnson.

Vanessa gives him a look, hating the fact that his teasing is starting to elicit humor from her rather than irritation. She can’t bite back a smile, choosing to lightly nudge at his face and push it away instead. Once the moment passes, Zay manages to be more serious.

Zay: Anyway, thanks for coming with me. Putting up with all that. I know you didn’t have to.

Vanessa: It’s all good. I had fun, bizarrely. Your friends aren’t half bad. [ a beat ] And it isn’t half bad spending more time with you.

It would be impressive if they could figure out how to actually say “I like you” like normal people… but it’s still a nice thought. Zay will take it. He thanks her again, reiterating the genuine gratitude beneath their banter, then leans over the console to share a kiss with her.

Vanessa returns it, leaning into it… but she grows distracted when Zay’s phone buzzes in the cup holder. She glances down at it, just for a second, but seeing “catholic demon” as the contact name on the message is enough to get her mind spinning again. At a glimpse, it looks like he’s just confirming their plans to catch up, but it opens up so many other doors for her mind to wonder about -- how many times did Charlie sit in this same spot in Zay’s car? Steal a kiss across the console? How can a history she knows so little about, that’s none of her business, leave her feeling so haunted? Why should she even care, when this thing between her and Zay isn’t even that deep?

Maybe because when he looks at her like he is now, with that unbearably charming smirk, it’s hard to know exactly how deep this thing is supposed to be.

Zay wants a relationship. He wants something real; something serious. He thinks -- they want to believe -- that Vanessa fits that bill. But what if she doesn’t? What if she’s stumbling through something she isn’t sure about to cling to the few things she knows she likes -- what if she’s driving a car that’s destined to crash and burn?

What if no matter how far she bends, she’s never going to be what Zay thinks he wants?

Vanessa, hesitantly: Zay?

Zay: Yeah?

She looks at him for a long moment, hoping to be able to read him without needing to ask for guidance… but she can’t. He’s impassive, impressively nonchalant, just as skilled at playing cool and effortless as she is. There’s no way to know what he’s thinking; to know if the contentment he’s emitting with her is the real deal or just an act. She’s never going to know.

But Riley was right. If Vanessa does know anything about him, it’s that Zay doesn’t make choices for no reason. He’s unbearably stubborn and self-righteous that way.

So she shrugs, shaking her head to dismiss the thought.

Vanessa: Thanks for the ride.

No comment about the subway this time. She gives him another kiss and then climbs out of the car, glancing back at him over her shoulder as she walks to her building. Zay smiles, offering a pithy wave.

Dylan, pre-lap: No offense, and I don’t say this lightly, but that was the weirdest date we’ve ever gone on in all of our lives.

INT. GARCIA HOME - ASHER’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Dylan and Asher are debriefing the date too, chatting about it while they get ready for bed. Dylan finishes pulling a sweatshirt on over his head, Asher already lounging on the bed and combing his hair -- more out of habit than necessity at this point.

Asher: I don’t think you can speak for everyone else. I mean, you can for Lucas, because we know he’s been on like seven dates. But who knows about the others.

Dylan: I don’t mean their lives, Ash. I mean all of our lives. Like, our past lives. 

Asher: Oh, right. Silly me.

Dylan: And I meant it. I don’t care how wild frontier Dylan thinks he’s got it, wrangling cows and shit, he has never had to sit through a meal like that.

Coming from Dylan, that’s saying something. He plops down on the bed with a sigh, Asher turning on his side to face him. He instinctively shifts his nitpicking compulsion on Dylan, affectionately combing his fingers through his hair.

Asher: Considering we spent four years at school with most of them, I guess I’m just desensitized. I wasn’t too fazed. Although Jordan was…

Dylan: Oh my God, he was so ugh!

Asher: Damn. If you’re saying that, he’s in trouble.

Dylan: All he did was talk about himself. And to a degree, I get it, like he’s the new kid on the block in our group. He has the most ground to cover. But he didn’t even try to talk about Farkle. The only time he did was when Riley basically teed us up with the whole meet-cute thing. It’s like, I can’t get myself to stop talking about you. The security guard at my dorm knows more about you than he’ll probably ever know about any student that actually lives in that building.

Asher: Gee… thanks.

Dylan: I can’t help it, it’s compulsive. I’m like an Asher shark -- if I don’t talk about you, I’ll die. And I know that drives everyone else crazy, but I’d rather be annoying like that than because I’m so absorbed with myself.

Listen, Asher isn’t disagreeing with him. He didn’t get great vibes from Jordan either. And he didn’t fit in at all with their group -- which shouldn’t be that hard, since they’re all freaks and a hodge-podge of personalities brought together by an ironic twist of the universe.

Asher: Vanessa at least could mesh. She seems decent -- you know, now that she’s not threatening to knock your head clean off with a volleyball.

Dylan: … eh.

Okay, now he’s really getting snarky. What sugar did he not put in his cereal this morning? Asher claims he thought Vanessa was cool all things considered, and points out Dylan himself didn’t think she was that bad. And that was back when they were Adams v. Quincy, and it was almost comically easy to detest her. What’s the big problem now?

Dylan hedges for a bit, slightly for theatricality… then he caves.

Dylan: I just don’t get what happened with Charlie!

Asher sighs, shaking his head.

Asher: Not this again…

Dylan sits up, getting worked up. He may not know much about most things, but stuff like this, relationships, this is his terrain. And he knows he picked up on something. Asher, based on his nonplussed reaction, remains unconvinced.

Dylan: I’m not saying I know exactly what, but there has always been a vibe there. 

Asher: Duh, Charlie was a closeted gay. He had vibes with every male in a ten-foot radius.

Dylan: It is not the same. I don’t know if they already had a thing, or just had feelings and didn’t share them, but I know vibes when I see them. And at least for Charlie, I’m like ninety-nine percent sure it’s still there -- like, did you see the way he looked at him at the holiday party? It’s plain egregious.

Asher: I think that’s just Charlie’s face.

Asher leans back against the pillows, crossing his arms while Dylan continues to plead his case.

Dylan: I have absolutely no problem with Vanessa. I agree, she seems cool. I’m glad Riley is trying to suck her into our black hole of chaos. But what I don’t get is like… [ pressing his palms to his eyes ] Agh, what is Zay doing?!

Asher: I’m gonna go with… dating someone he likes. Because he’s single, and hot, and available.

Dylan: But --

Asher: Having “vibes” with someone that one person sees is not being unavailable, babe. Not that I don’t trust your psychic premonitions. I know you feel strongly about them.

Dylan: Have I ever been wrong? Name one time! Everyone doubted me about Principal Jack and Eric, and oh wow, look at that, now they’re getting married.

Asher: And big congratulations to them. I’m just saying, no streak runs perfect forever, even a psychic one. And I respect that beautiful, imaginative mind of yours, but this feels like a stretch you’re working yourself up over -- mainly because I just cannot envision it. Have you met Zay? He’s way too big of a bitch to date Charlie. Charlie Gardner is like, an unfairly fit marshmallow in human form.

Dylan Orlando, ever the dismissed prophet. He hums indignantly and flops onto his stomach, hiding his head in the pillows. Asher pats his back soothingly.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - DAY

The stress spills into the next day, though for reasons more rooted in reality. Lucas is frantically searching for one of his flannels, checking every corner of the apartment as we see in quick cuts of him looking around the living room.

Lucas: You’re sure you don’t know where it is?

Riley, off-screen: [ from her bedroom ] I’m looking. I promise, we’ll find it.

Lucas: I already have terrible shoes, I can’t show up to work wearing one of my ratty flannels too.

Riley appears in the doorway to her bedroom, clearly helping in the search.

Riley: Evelyn knows you better than that. She’s not going to toss you out because you have one day where you’re not wearing a metaphorical suit and tie. Have you checked Isa’s room? Didn’t they borrow one of your shirts for a shoot last month?

Good enough idea to run with. Lucas nods, heading towards their room.

Riley: We can ask them when they come back from class too, they should be back soon. I’ll shoot them a text --

INT. NYU APARTMENT - ISA’S BEDROOM - DAY

Lucas pushes into Isa’s room, haphazardly searching the obvious places for where his flannel might be hiding. The desk chair -- under all their other jackets they never seem to tidy up. The closet. Top of the dresser. No dice.

But Lucas is desperate, so he’ll look anywhere. He groans and drops down to his hands and knees, checking under their desk. Nothing, but given how messy under their bed looks, he figures he may have some luck there. He tosses the edge of the comforter up away from view and starts to dig around, unimpressed by how untidy it is.

He makes a major discovery, but it isn’t his flannel. Behind the crumpled up papers and amidst the stowed away junk food and non-perishables Isa has apparently started hiding in their room like a squirrel in response to the refrigerator sticker wars, Lucas finds something he never expected to find under their bed.

His boots. He pulls them out from the darkness and sits up, holding them in his hands with a stunned expression on his face. He’s been stressing about not having them for weeks, since Thanksgiving, and they were here the entire time.

It only takes a minute for the shock to melt into anger.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - DAY

Isa has returned to the apartment just in time, Riley filling them in on the great search as they drop their bag by the door.

Riley: Have you seen it? Lucas just went in your room to spot-check, but --

Isa: [ after a beat, realizing ] Wait, he’s looking in my --

Lucas, off-screen: What the everloving fuck?

Ruh-roh. Riley whips towards Isa’s room in concern, Isa bracing for impact as Lucas emerges from the doorway with boots in hand. Riley’s eyes widen in astonishment.

Riley: Your boots?

Lucas: Yeah. [ looking at Isa ] My fucking boots.

Oop. Isa panics, playing dumb at first.

Isa: Whoa, that’s weird.

Lucas: What were my boots doing in your room, Isa?

Isa: … what were your boots doing in my room?

Lucas: Don’t do that. Don’t fucking do that.

Riley: Okay, let’s just stay calm --

Isa: Do what?

Lucas: That annoying as fuck thing you do where you turn everything back on me. Can you not dodge for like five damn seconds and explain why the hell you had my shoes?

Isa: [ with a defensive scoff ] Oh, you’re gonna talk to me about dodging? The master of avoiding consequences?

Lucas: See! That’s what I’m talking about! This isn’t about me, this is about the fact that I just found my fucking boots in your room!

God, they’re like fire and oxygen. Isa grows pissy as she marches towards the center of the room, Lucas meeting her there, and Riley watches helplessly from behind the couch. She wants to step in and stop in, but she isn’t sure she can.

She’s been slow-burning the chemical reaction for months, managing to stall it as long as humanly possible. It seems the clock has run out -- it’s meant to explode.

Isa: Why were you in my fucking room in the first place? I don’t remember you asking me if you could go in there!

Lucas: Why do you care? Because I was going to find the full-on supermarket you’ve got growing under your bed?

Riley: [ concerned and a bit disgusted ] What?

Lucas: Or because I was going to find my boots in your possession even though you’ve told me for weeks that you had no idea where they are?

Isa stammers for what to say, finding nothing. They’ve been caught red-handed in this case, despite how righteous and necessary the theft felt in the moment. Lucas shakes his head when they don’t deny it, moving into utter bewilderment. He backs away from Isa on instinct, isolating himself the more anger tightens its grip.

Lucas: Why would you -- you knew I was looking for them. You knew I needed them. Why did you take them?

Isa: Because they were driving me absolutely crazy! Do you have any idea how annoying they are, stomping around on the hardwood all the time? It’s like nails on a fucking chalkboard!

Lucas: So you just stole them?

Isa: Oh, ho ho, are you really going to look at me like that and act like it’s such a bizarre reaction to steal something? The ruling king of petty theft and kleptomania?

Lucas: And how can they be annoying? They’re a pair of shoes! They’re just fucking boots, Dora!

Isa: Yeah, tell me about it! How was I supposed to know that taking them would cause your entire self-esteem Jenga tower to crumble? They’re boots, but it was like I stole your first-born child. Earth to Lucas, they’re faux-leather clunkers, not steel-plate armor. They’re not going to protect you from whatever it is you’re so afraid of.

Oh, it just keeps going and going. But maybe there’s a kernel of truth to their jabs -- maybe all of this is about more than a pair of boots.

Riley: Guys, please, stop.

Lucas: You know how much these mean to me. You knew I was -- I needed them, and you still kept them. Why would you -- why would you do that to me?

Isa: Like you haven’t taken shit from me! Who decided all the damn milk in the fridge belonged to them? Who stamped all over movie night, or threw out our Scrabble game like it was trash?

Lucas: I told you, Riley told me to move it. I didn’t get that it was such a big deal to you, because no human being on planet Earth could figure out what you care about and don’t care about --

Finally, the fuse runs out. Time’s up.

Boom.

Isa: You’ve taken everything since you got here! This is my apartment, and ever since you moved in you’ve soaked up every single inch of it so there’s nothing left. I couldn’t take it anymore!

Lucas: So why didn’t you say that to my face? Why didn’t you tell me to fuck off?

Riley: No one is asking for you to --

Isa: Because there’s nowhere else for you to go, Lucas! I’m not going to turn you out onto the street or back into that hell with your dad, no matter how much I can’t stand it. But sorry if that means I don’t do everything perfectly right! Sorry I did something shitty! I kind of seem incapable of being anything else!

Riley: Isa, you’re not --

Isa: So yeah, I would’ve asked you to leave. I should’ve told you ages ago, rather than taking your boots. You got me, I cop to that. But what would you do, Lucas, if you were in my shoes? What would you do if you had a feral cat in your possession who you were certain was going to give you rabies and kill you but your only other option was to turn them out to starve?!

Wow. Okay then. An apt metaphor, maybe, but really shows how Isa views Lucas right now. A burden rather than a brother, a feral liability rather than a friend. One that apparently they’d turn out if they could, and the only reason he’s still there is because they feel like they can’t.

Maybe that’s not what Isa meant, but that’s what he hears.

Lucas: Got it. Thanks for fucking telling me. [ hastily putting on the boots ] Allow me the honor of giving you what you want.

He marches towards the door, leaving. Riley calls after him, Isa also realizing the conversation shouldn’t go this way and turning around.

Isa: Lucas, listen --

Lucas: No, I’ve heard enough. And anyway [ grabbing his lanyard pointedly ] I have to go to work.

Apparently, without his nice flannel. He steps out and slams the door behind him, Isa closing their eyes and cussing under their breath. Riley hides her head in her hands.

INT. APARTMENT BUILDING - STAIRWAY - DAY

Lucas rushes down the stairs, trying to burn off his anger and embarrassment. How did all this become such a mess? He’s not wanted here, because he can’t play the role right. Yet another place where that seems to be the case.

He hates when he feels like this. Anger has never felt good thrumming in his chest -- it feels too much like playing with fire. He doesn’t want to know it more than he already does; he doesn’t want to discover what he’s so terrified he might be capable of. If anger moves through his veins, it’s part of his blood.

He doesn’t want it. He has to figure this out, to work through it, to problem-solve his next move since apparently he’s shot this one to hell.

But first, he has to shake this off. Some emotions just demand to be felt… and in AMBITION, there’s one surefire way to channel that.

Lucas storms the rest of the way down the stairs and out the door to the street, as the raucous guitar intro kicks up --

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DREAMSCAPE - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “One Step Closer” as performed by Linkin Park || Performed by Lucas James Friar & Isa De La Cruz (feat. Dylan Orlando & Asher Garcia)

The stage is cast in shadow, only the occasional flash of lights blinking on above illuminating the stage in bright white light for a second at a time. There are four silhouettes visible, two towards the back and two further downstage on opposite ends of the raised pit.

At ten seconds in, when the full band backing kicks up, dim lighting gives us a fuller picture -- Dylan and Asher are back as Lucas’s reliable sonic translators, acting as back-up singers and guitarist for this punk rock anthem of being fucking done. It’s a song ripped straight off Lucas’s one playlist, the one full of Fall Out Boy aptly titled “shut up shut up shut up,” and it’s fitting for the frustration he feels now.

He’s not alone in that exasperation, though. His subconscious does seem to lend some credit to Isa, acknowledging that he is probably just as aggravating to them in this situation as they are to him. It’s an imperfect situation, a combination of two conflicting preferences and personalities, and it isn’t sustainable. It was bound to get them here eventually, trying to force polarized magnets together like they have.

So although it’s in Lucas’s head, the performance is a duet. Lucas and Isa both share the main vocals, passing the lines back and forth. It’s a shouting match in music form, somehow safer that way, Dylan and Asher thrashing along in the background. To be frank, it’s a bit silly almost by design, but that helps make the intensity of the emotions powering it easier to swallow.

Sometimes, you just need to scream-sing shut up at the friend you’re pissed at and be done with it.

And one has to wonder if that’s really what all the anger is about anyway. Yes, their friction with each other is frustrating, and something they need to confront. But as they scream out Linkin Park lyrics and kick over acting blocks and smash set pieces -- an homage to the anger he used to struggle with not long ago, and the vandalisms he committed as a response -- it seems like they’re working through a lot more than just roommate tension. Which given everything they’re dealing with, have been dealing with for years, it’s really no fucking surprise.

I need a little room to breathe 'Cause I'm one step closer to the edge

Isa and Lucas both face out towards the house, faces cast in shadow as they spit out the final line.

And I'm about to break!

The lights abruptly cut out, throwing the imagined auditorium into darkness.

EXT. SUBWAY STATION - DAY

Lucas emerges from the subway station near the school board building, cheap earbuds in his ears. He pulls them out as he decides on another way to act, not letting all of this stew in inaction. He can’t be the burden. He can’t keep living like this. If he can find a pathway out, he needs to take it.

He unplugs the headphones from his phone and dials a number, pacing impatiently on the sidewalk. His breath creates steam in the frozen air while he waits.

Finally, whoever he called answers. He releases a sigh.

Lucas: Hey. Is -- is that roommate offer still on the table?

Lucas continues the conversation as he keeps walking to work, disappearing out of frame.

Zay, pre-lap: I’m sorry, let me get this straight. You’re moving in with Lucas James Friar?

INT. SVORSKI’S COFFEE - DAY

True to his word earlier, Zay and Charlie are catching up. They’re grabbing coffee, just having a good ol’ chat, as any good friends would on a pleasant December afternoon. It’s like they’ve always been nothing but besties. Just regular, plain pals. They’re being so normal about it, really.

Okay, a bit stilted, maybe, but thankfully the news of Lucas apparently becoming Charlie’s roommate shocks Zay enough to resume a feeling of normalcy. He can’t act chill and unbothered and tame when he’s just heard the strangest news of his life.

Charlie: Could you be more dramatic? Seriously, I think your delivery is lacking a bit. Have you been staying sharp on your acting while you’ve been doing all that dancing this semester?

Zay: Ha ha ha. You’re so funny. At least, you would be if this was a joke, which based on your delivery it seems like it isn’t. You’re telling me that you seriously, truly asked Lucas Friar to move in with you -- and he seriously, truly said yes?

Yes, that seriously is the truth. Charlie confirms as much, before they pause to accept their orders from the barista at the counter. Charlie offers a polite smile and Zay gives a nod, the two of them relocating to the area to tweak their drinks before Zay dives in again.

Zay: I’m just concerned, is all. Are you well? Like, did you receive brain damage from some Parisian rave drug and now you can’t make good decisions? Blink twice if you need help, Charlie.

He could keep arguing him on it, but perhaps a statement of action would be more effective. Instead of responding, he simply follows his request, lifting his gaze to meet his eyes and staring at him. Not blinking. Not even once. Cheeky, and effective, because for all his bravado and how normal they’re being about things, it’s still way too dangerous to hold eye contact with Charlie like that. Not when Zay’s still getting used to seeing those eyes again.

So Zay looks away first, scoffing in defeat.

Zay: All I’m saying is --

Charlie: All you’re saying? You mean, beyond the plenty of saying you’ve said in the last five minutes.

Zay: All I’m saying is, I don’t get it. That is a bewildering life choice, and I wish you nothing but saintly protection for letting a demon into your home.

Charlie: He already lives with Riley.

Zay: You ain’t Riley. [ off his eye roll ] Which is another thing I don’t get, by the way. I thought he was living with Riley. I didn’t hear anything from her about him moving out. You’re sure he agreed to this? He didn’t just make some caveman grunt that you misinterpreted because no one can possibly comprehend him?

Charlie: Yes. He called me today and we talked about it. That’s what I know. I don’t know about his situation with Riley and Isa, but I’m sure he’s working it out with them. Have a little faith in people.

Zay: Sorry, that’s your job. [ a beat ] And like, I don’t know, I guess I’m just surprised that of all the people, you asked Lucas to be your roommate. Like of all one hundred million people in Manhattan.

Charlie: More like one-point-six-three million, but good effort.

Zay: Of course you know that. Nerd. My point is, there’s a whole city of eligible roommates who aren’t going to sacrifice you to the techie gods in your sleep, and yet you chose Friar. [ a beat ] Like, I mean, you could’ve asked me.

He says it innocently enough, and it speaks volumes. There’s something under the surface there of Zay’s counteroffer -- a grasp for the ease of how things used to be, maybe, or a simple way to assert best friendship that should be effortless. In his heart, perhaps, he’s stung by the fact that maybe he isn’t Charlie’s first choice anymore.

But he doesn’t know that’s the case. He doesn’t know that Charlie absolutely did contemplate that possibility -- and is contemplating it again now at the suggestion -- but there is way too much loaded baggage there between them for that to ever be a good idea. Being roommates, seeing each other all the time, with that casual intimacy, when they’re being so normal about everything?

Bad plan. No can do. Charlie clears his throat to rid his brain of the possibilities.

Charlie: I know that. But you’ve already got your thing going on at Turner, and a good set up with your parents.

And a girlfriend. Don’t forget that. Charlie shrugs, focusing on adding cream to his coffee.

Charlie: Your circumstances are different. Lucas actually needs other options, which makes it an even better solution. Besides, I like Lucas. He’s my friend.

Zay: I know. For some unholy reason.

Charlie: So I think it’ll be cool. Change of pace, for sure, but that’s kind of our whole lives these days, isn’t it? Anyway, just because I’m inviting Lucas to live with me doesn’t mean our entire relationship changes. It’s not like he’s going to suddenly become my best friend. [ playfully ] You don’t have to be jealous.

Oop. Well damn… Zay makes a face, letting that sink in. Both because the insinuation that he would ever be jealous of Lucas is offensive… and because maybe, just maybe, there’s a hint of truth to the joke that rests under the same surface as Zay’s initial innocent offer.

Either way, Zay scoffs, scowling down at his coffee as he mixes in some sugar.

Zay, grumpy: [ under his breath ] I am not jealous.

Charlie can’t help but smile at his huffy denial, casting a fond look at him out of the corner of his eyes.

Anyway, Zay does hope Charlie is right that Lucas has talked to Riley about it, because he can’t see that going over well if he just dips without explanation. He has a habit of that, by the way, did Charlie know? He better get used to it if he plans to inject more essence of LJF into his day-to-day life.

And that may not be the only piece of it. As they turn away from the napkins and start to look for where to sit, they run almost directly into Dylan and Asher as they enter the coffee shop. Dylan seems more than happy to see them, giving his usual sunshine grin and offering enthusiastic greetings -- Asher is a bit more cordial, eyeing Zay frostily for the theatrics of their little gay rivalry.

Dylan: Look who it is!

Zay, flatly: Asher.

Asher, lofty: Isaiah.

Zay narrows his eyes, obviously not appreciating the petty use of his full name. Dylan doesn’t give him the chance to respond though, cheerfully carrying on.

Dylan: It’s actually so funny that we would run into you, because we were just talking about y’all. Weren’t we just talking about them, Ash?

Asher: Perhaps.

Charlie: Um, positively, I hope.

Zay: Doubtful.

Dylan: Of course! It’s just really great to be running into the same old crowd again after so long away. Especially you, Charlie, little world traveler that you are.

Yes, they’ve been away for quite a spell… as if that’s the perfect reason for a reunion, Dylan offers another bright idea.

Dylan: You know what? I’m thinking -- we? [ gesturing to all four of them ] Should do lunch.

Charlie: Oh.

Zay: Boy…

Dylan: It’s so weird that it’s been so long since we all went to school together. And we didn’t spend that much time together during class anyway, because you know, techie, performer, etc., etc. Now that all our cards are out on the table -- beautiful, gay Charlie Gardner --

Charlie blushes, clearing his throat. Asher smiles lightly; Zay does his best not to break his aloof facade, but even he has to glow a bit at the freedom to hear Charlie’s truth said aloud.

Dylan: It’s about time. You know, four of us, king queers of Adams ‘21. A funky little lunch is like the least we could do. I feel like this is something that’s been a long time coming. I’m sure we’ve all been thinking it.

Zay, coolly: I’ve never once thought that.

Dylan makes a face, casting a playfully skeptical look in his direction. He reiterates his stance, unfazed.

Dylan: Mmmmm, I’m pretty sure we all have.

Zay shakes his head, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. So anyway, it’s settled -- they’ll do lunch. Sometime. Soon, before he and Asher head back up to Rochester. Charlie nods along, a bit overwhelmed by Dylan’s vibrant energy but not opposed to the idea. Zay is less impressed, but he doesn’t say no, so that’s something.

In the meantime, it won’t be long until they see each other again, as they’ll all be at Riley’s New Year’s Eve party. Where they’ll get to spend another evening packed like sardines in a cozy little alumni can with the same old people, just like old times… and earlier this week…

Dylan: Except for Jordan, who I believe already left back for Los Angeles. So he won’t be there.

Asher: [ under his breath ] Thank God…

Oop. So clearly it’s not just Zay who has his doubts about Farkle’s beau. An awkward beat passes as Asher realizes the feral thought slipped out.

Asher: That he’s getting back home safe and sound. [ a beat ] God bless.

Convincing. But it’ll do for now. That promise of reunion assured, Dylan and Asher go to order their drinks, finally leaving Zay and Charlie in peace. But not before Dylan offers one more small gesture of affection, beaming and wiggling his finger towards Charlie as he passes him.

Dylan, fondly: Charlie Gardner.

Charlie makes a face, bewildered but shyly receptive to the friendliness. Once they’re alone again, Zay scoffs.

Zay: They are so weird.

Charlie: Join the club?

Touché.

They settle down at a table by the window, Charlie getting a look at the view and smiling at how nice it is to be seeing it again. Zay’s mind is elsewhere, though, thinking about something Dylan brought up in their conversation. It’s none of his business, especially after how the group date went, but he’s been given the perfect opportunity…

Zay: So, speaking of… how well do you know Farkle’s boyfriend?

Charlie: Jordan? [ off his nod ] Not well. I mean, I met him a handful of times when I was staying with them, but nothing substantial. Definitely an artist, that’s for sure. He’s intense, like Farkle, at least based on what I could tell from working Maya’s shoot with him. Why do you ask?

Zay: … no reason. Just curious. Spent some time with him during the thing with Riley the other day, so just… wanted to know if there was more to know.

Charlie: Right. Maya might know more? Sorry I’m not much help. But he seems decent. [ with a shrug ] I just think it’s cool that Farkle is excited about it. You know? He seems really happy, and I know he’s been dreaming about the dating thing for a while. Getting that kind of attention from someone. I know how that feels, thinking it’s never gonna happen and then…

Yeah. Right. Bit strange to remember that the person who changed all that for you is sitting right across from you, and yet you’re just perfectly normal pals… Zay lowers his eyes to his drink while Charlie clears his throat, looking out the window again.

Charlie: Anyway, I’m happy for him. That’s what I mean. So long as he’s happy with Jordan, then I figure he must be pretty okay.

Zay lifts his gaze to look at him again, expression softer than before.

Zay, softly: Yeah, well, you always do have faith in people…

Appreciative of Charlie’s ever-optimistic outlook… but definitely not buying it for himself. As the soundscape of airplanes floats in…

EXT. JFK AIRPORT - PRIVATE JETWAY - DAY

Farkle is saying goodbye to Jordan before he heads back to Los Angeles. They’re out on the strip in front of the Nelson private jet, a totally different world than the rest of the travelers lugging through JFK will be treated to -- let alone right before New Year’s Eve.

Jordan and Farkle share a long kiss, letting it linger. With his hands cupping Farkle’s face, Jordan offers again for Farkle to stowaway and come back with him early. Wouldn’t it be fun… and hasn’t he seen enough of his old crew…

But no, Farkle holds firm. If not for his own plans, then for Riley, who he knows would be very disappointed if he dipped last-minute. So he politely declines, assuring Jordan he’ll see him when he’s back in January.

Jordan accepts that, but not without a bit of that chill that usually accompanies when things don’t go his way. Still, he gives Farkle another brisk kiss for good measure. Then he’s off, heading up the stairs into the private jet. Farkle watches him go, waving and offering a smile.

It doesn’t last. When the jet door closes and he turns around to head back to the family car, Farkle’s expression looks more uncertain than fond. Whether he likes it or not, all those comments from Zay are prickling in his brain.

Just when he thought he had it all figured out, he’s back to second-guessing everything.

Break 2.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - NIGHT

New Year’s Eve is upon us! Night has fallen and the guests are soon to arrive, Riley organizing the final preparations for their gathering. She’s dressed in a pretty purple sweater dress with a faux collar, quirky but stylish. The rest of her current company is less spruced up, Dylan, Asher, and Isa basically dressed like normal.

That tracks, considering Riley seems more frazzled about things than usual. She paces the living area and scans the room, checking off a mental list. Decorations -- check. Food -- check, being daintily arranged by Asher on the counter. Drinks -- check, though she stupidly forgot ice.

Isa: Riley, relax. It’s the crew from school, not the Jacobs foundation.

Dylan: Yeah, you’ve gotta remember we’re not classy folks. We’re just here to have a good time.

Asher: We used to have holiday parties on the stage. We literally ate off paper plates on the floor.

Riley nods along, acknowledging their commentary. But it doesn’t assuage her nerves. She knows this is low stakes, but it’s important to her. It’s one of the last times she’ll have all her favorite people together before they go back to their little worlds -- she doesn’t want it to go wrong.

Thankfully, she has help. The apartment door opens and Lucas enters, carrying a bag of ice he clearly just went out to retrieve. He’s also dressed slightly nicer than usual -- probably for her sake -- wearing that aforementioned nice flannel they must’ve finally found. Riley sighs in relief, coming to greet him with a kiss and a handful of thank yous.

Riley: You’re my hero. Seriously.

Lucas: The bar can’t be that low. I want you to have higher standards than that.

Riley gives him a look, lightly swatting him on the arm. He takes her direction on where to get the ice set up, Asher moving to help. In the meantime, Dylan comes to join Isa by the window, confirming that they’re doing okay. They’re not also unreasonably frazzled by all this fun, are they? Isa snorts, shaking their head.

Isa: This is Riley’s kind of stress, not mine. No, I stick to the garden varieties -- mommy issues, repressed trauma, doubting my capability and purpose at every turn.

Dylan: Oh, so just like normal. [ off their smirk, then softer ] Seriously, though, I wanted to talk to you. We haven’t gotten the chance to catch up with the holidays and stuff. I know you said your semester has been kind of meh.

Isa: Yeah… I mean, it’s all a clusterfuck. Mainly Val legacy bullshit, because why should I ever be free of that, you know? But otherwise…

Dylan: Otherwise, things are good? Or?

Isa: … yeah. No, yeah, I’m -- I’m figuring some stuff out. Like always. It’s mainly just…

There’s a knock on the door, Riley giving Asher an eager but anxious smile as they finish the final touches on their set up. Here they go! Lucas goes to pull open the door, stepping back to let Farkle and Maya inside. Riley rushes over to greet them, giving Farkle a warm hug.

Yep… mainly just that. Isa doesn’t finish the sentence, watching Farkle and Maya enter in silence, but looking between them, Dylan can fill in the blanks for himself. He’s always been sharp about things like this, and he’s been on the Farkle and Isa trail for longer than basically anyone else.

It’s not long before the rest of the crew makes their way in -- Zay and Yindra; Charlie, with warm wishes from his mother that Riley can’t help but laugh over. Nigel and Jade arrive together, and Isa eyes the former from a distance, distrustful.

Once everyone is in attendance, Riley greets them all and claims that dinner is almost ready. They’ve pulled together the card table and another borrowed one to form a long dining table at the center of the living area, couch pushed back, and she’s arranged little name cards for where they can sit. All fancy-like and detail-oriented.

Dylan hangs back with Riley and Lucas to help put out the actual food while everyone else goes to find their seats. While we can enjoy the visual aid of a nice seating chart (you’re welcome), none of them actually know where they’re going to end up until they get there.

Maya naturally has her seat at the end of the table, opposite Riley’s name card at the other. She smiles at this, enjoying the theoretical place of honor and settling down without complaint. Farkle is directly to her left, so not much to complain about on that front.

Yindra does a lap on the other side before finding her name, arriving at the corner right of Maya just as Charlie does. They both glance at their name cards -- next to each other, which they have no complaints about -- then across the table, where Zay is currently making his way over to find his spot.

Which currently, as arranged, is right across from Charlie. Panic jumps through him. They’re doing a good job being normal and everything, but he isn’t sure he can stomach a whole night of having to look directly at Zay. Not when he’s smack dab in front of him… and when he doesn’t trust himself to be able to look anywhere else if it’s that easy.

Yindra senses this panic with just a glance and, without a word, quickly swaps their name cards. Swift enough that no one else notices. But Charlie does, and the unspoken gratitude in his eyes speaks volumes. Yindra gives him a subtle wink as they settle into their chairs. She couldn’t spare him at Secret Snowflake, but she’ll do her best to do so when she can.

Of course, this also happens to put Charlie directly next to Maya, but that’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make. Maya seems less enthused -- talk about bland dinner conversation -- but she offers him her usual smile reserved for him all the same.

Maya: Charlie Gardner…

There’s not much better reception on her other side. Farkle has already settled in, but he grows awkward when he realizes Zay has been given the seat next to him. Riley couldn’t have realized what happened during the group date, had no idea the way they last left off a conversation. They exchange a silent look, sizing each other up… then Zay sits in his chair without further comment. At least he’s got Yindra across the table. And to his left…

Oh, great. Asher of all people drops into the chair next to his, in the middle of the row. Zay sneers.

Zay: Now I know my luck has soured. How did I end up next to you of all people?

Asher: Zay, don’t be silly. This has nothing to do with luck. [ a beat ] I asked Riley to put us next to each other.

Asher gives him a sweet little smile. Zay stares at him, narrowing his eyes. Oh he is so devious… Asher turns to Jade diagonal from him, acting as if he didn’t just make the best petty move to end the year. Just for a laugh.

Asher: Pass the rolls, please?

Jade has ended up on the other side, Nigel between her and Charlie in the middle and Isa to her right at the end. Isa seems relieved to be close to Riley and Dylan at one end and far from Farkle and Maya at the other, but they could do without only having one person between them and Nigel and having to look at Lucas all night.

But the table has been set. No turning back now. Riley caps off the assembly as she arrives at her spot at the head of the table, Lucas and Dylan settling in now that they’ve finished moving all the tasty food. Riley gives everyone a bubbly smile, holding her arms out and inviting them to dig in.

Riley: Hopefully, everything is perfect for a perfect evening with my favorite people.

If you say so, Riley. Let the last supper (of the year) commence!

INT. NYU APARTMENT - LATER - NIGHT

In spite of the intricate spiderweb of tensions criss-crossing throughout the table, the meal seems to pass without incident. The conversation is pleasant enough, particularly when it’s able to be broken into little side chats, keeping the temperature even. And the food does seem to have been tasty, since everyone ate their fair share.

Focus comes back to the center though when Riley gets everyone’s attention, raising her glass and aiming for an optimistic toast. She knows this is usually saved for the last hour of New Year’s Eve, but she couldn’t resist the chance to cheer them now. She wants to remark on how proud she is of all of them, how great it is to have them all back together.

These sentiments would be sweeter and better received if she hadn’t caught so many of her favorite people in their less-than-favorable moods. No matter how cheery she tries to be, snide commentary and subtle digs find a way of cropping up.

Riley: I mean, we have to raise a glass to Maya, who is literally a certified viral sensation. Not that we didn’t know it was likely to happen, but it’s still pretty damn amazing.

Maya: Oh, please. You’re too sweet.

Asher: Like she would let any of us forget it…

Zay: For real.

Riley: [ pointedly ignoring that ] And how could we not applaud Zay for an absolutely killer semester at Turner? He’s currently top in his transfer class and there’s little doubt in my mind that he’s going to make it all the way there.

Zay gives her a smile. Charlie smiles at him while he isn’t looking, obviously in agreement. Farkle seems less rosy, keeping his eyes on his plate.

Yindra: They’re about to realize the killer talent they have, baby. And the impeccable taste.

Farkle: [ under his breath ] Yeah, he’s got no problem vocalizing his opinions…

Oop. Zay casts a side-eye in his direction, but mercifully doesn’t comment. Riley senses the tension but tries with everything in her to pretend it isn’t there. Putting a metaphorical mental Band-Aid on whatever scrape is going on in that corner and moving on. If there’s a way to move through the rest of this without setting off the landmines she knows are buried within her crew, she’s gonna do her damnedest to find it.

So she picks what she thinks has to be the safest route possible. She turns her attention to Charlie.

Riley: And how lucky are we to have Charlie back at our table, when we’ve had to survive without him for a whole six months? I can’t even begin to do a proper toast, because I’m sure we’ve only scratched the surface of all your adventures abroad.

Yindra gives him an overly affectionate side-hug, playing up the silliness. Charlie blushes, waving them off. Maya makes a face, taking a sip of her drink.

Riley: Which I hope you don’t mind me putting you on the spot, but I’m sure everyone, like me, is dying to hear about where you went. What did you see?

Nigel: Yeah, seriously. I saw the pics you posted with your dad and the mountains. Did you seriously hike that?

Dylan: Wah wah, who cares about mountains. I wanna hear about the raves!

Jade: A rave? You’re joking.

Charlie: Whoa, whoa. Who said anything about a rave?

He asks the question… and then the answer feels obvious. He gives Zay a disdainful look. Zay innocently chews his food, giving Charlie a look in response like who, me? Anyway… Charlie is obviously a bit uncomfortable with all the attention. He assures them all it wasn’t that exciting, at least not to hear about it, especially since he’s such a nerd.

Isa is especially unimpressed, though not of pure motive like Maya’s lack of interest in all things Charlie Gardner. This time, the displeasure is driven by something much more dangerous, as a little green monster turns over and over the fact Molly sent them in their head. With all the friction already under their feet and electric current tangled up in their spiderweb of secrets, the terrain is more than treacherous.

So all it takes is a little too much good-natured Charlie Gardner humility to trigger a spark. If Riley thought Isa never spoke to Charlie before, well, she might regret suggesting it now.

Isa: You don’t have to be so modest, Charlie. I’m sure you could regale with us with so many stories. Don’t even have to go abroad to get to the most insane ones.

Charlie, uncertainly: [ with a polite smile ] I’m not sure I --

Isa: Like, oh, I don’t know, how you hooked up with Farkle --

Whoa, whoa, whoa, stop the fucking presses. Hello? Now we’ve really got the whole table’s attention. Charlie nearly chokes on his food, locking wide eyes with Farkle across the table. Zay’s eyes are somehow even wider, looking between them in disbelief. It’s like his brain can’t process it. Everyone else reacts with a mixture of shock and amusement. Maya stares at Isa, baffled.

Dylan: No shit?!

Maya: How did you even --

Yindra: [ to Charlie ] You didn’t tell me about that!

Farkle, with all eyes on him, panic blurts a defense.

Farkle: IT WAS JUST HAND STUFF.

Very much not helping! The table erupts at that, Charlie even more humiliated than the time he did that in front of just Maya. He hides behind his hands.

Zay, at a loss: What the absolute --

Riley: [ trying to recover ] I don’t think we need to talk about this at --

Nigel: Hey, you know what, good for you. You could do worse than Charlie, Farkle.

Yindra: I think it would be hard to do better, in my humble opinion.

Maya: [ with a snort ] I mean, okay then…

Asher: He’d definitely make a better boyfriend than Jordan…

Oop. Did that just slip out? Asher realizes it says it loud enough for everyone to have heard, cheeks growing rosy now that the focus is on him.

Farkle: Excuse me?

Asher, nervous: God, I’m sorry, Farkle, but he’s the worst!

Jesus, Garcia too? Dylan and Nigel agree, sharing their opinions about Jordan now that the floodgates have been opened. Just like Zay said they might -- and he might try to capitalize on that, to get Farkle to see reason, but he’s still staring at Charlie, too distracted by the last big bombshell. It’s still not clicking…

The room feels like it’s shrinking. Farkle is clearly not handling this well, which Maya can sense, so she tries to throw him a life preserver. Anything to get the conversation off this topic -- but Yindra sees right through that, laughing when Maya tries to save Farkle some face.

Maya: Farkle’s taste in men is none of your business, and he can make his own decisions. Jordan’s a fine director, and isn’t that what really matters? Our creative acumen? Amen.

Yindra: Ha! You’re kidding me. You literally just the other day were talking about how you can’t stand him.

Farkle whips his head to look at Maya. Et tu, Blondie? Maya stammers, trying to play it off, but she’s been caught red-handed and now she’s in the hot seat. So she justifies herself, with the utmost diva conviction.

Maya: Well, sorry! No one is ever going to be good enough for you in my eyes. And if you all saw what he did to him on Thanksgiving --

Isa/Zay, in unison: What did he do?

Farkle, warningly: Maya --

Maya: He basically mouse-trapped him into a circus act to piss off his homophobic grandparents. Which like, sure, fuck that, but he didn’t even tell him!

Um… yeah, that’s really not a pretty picture. Farkle is now regretting ever sharing that detail with Maya. He chokes on his words, color drained from his face, trying to stammer out an explanation for why it was perfectly fine and made sense in the moment and Maya is way overreacting. But he can’t string something together, and his words aren’t working anyway with how overwhelmed he feels. Zay looks disgusted, more convinced of his read on Jordan than ever.

Yindra: Yikes. That’s a shitty way to spend Thanksgiving.

Charlie: Well it’s not like yours was much better, Yin.

Yindra: Hey, I know you’re embarrassed, but don’t be rude to yourself. I had a great time on our road trip.

Charlie: I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about how you spent it hiding here in New York when you have a literal producer wanting to talk with you in L.A.

Zay/Nigel: WHAT?

Riley: Oh my God, really?

Damn it, Charlie! Yindra stares at him next to her, as he just seems to realize maybe she wasn’t sharing that fact so openly. Whoops.

Maya: Someone from the Haunt? That one who picked your number?

Zay: How is this the first we’re hearing about this?

Yindra: I wasn’t -- it’s complicated. I’m still --

Nigel: How could you not tell us about it?!

Yindra: I haven’t figured shit out, okay! I don’t want to get everyone excited over nothing.

Jade: Yindra, that’s silly. That sounds like an awesome opportunity. And you don’t even want to see it through?

Asher, playfully: Well, that’s rich coming from you, Jade, considering you have a big job offer lined up in L.A. and aren’t doing anything about it.

By the way the table reacts, and Jade turns to shoot daggers at Asher with her eyes, it becomes clear very quickly that no one else was aware of that little detail. Asher immediately clams up, realizing his mistake too late.

Asher: Were we… not telling people about that?

Nigel looks at Jade next to him, stunned speechless. Both by the news of such a big opportunity… and the fact that he had no idea. She can’t even look at him.

Desperate to get the attention off of her -- and the obvious that he so clearly didn’t know her secret -- Nigel searches for the first out he can get and takes it.

Zay: Y’all are so insane. I can’t believe you have huge opportunities like this in front of you and you’re just sitting on it. [ with a scoff ] I mean, nothing but love, but this is pathetic.

Nigel: I don’t think you should be one to talk, Zay.

Zay: Um, the fuck is that supposed to mean?

Nigel: It’s not like you’ve been the shining pinnacle of wise choices this semester. You almost hurt your tendon again, then you decided it would be a great idea to start sleeping with the girl you said you couldn’t stand like three seconds earlier --

Riley: Okay, I don’t think --

Maya: God damn, Chey.

Tensions are rising, and words are flying without thinking at this point. Whatever they ate must’ve been smothered in oil, because when Isa set the spark, it caught on like wildfire.

Zay: You know, I always knew you were judging me about that. Unlike you, Nigel, not everyone moves in their relationships at the pace of a tortoise. And just because you’re all egged up since you apparently don’t know shit about your girlfriend doesn’t mean you have to hop on mine --

Nigel: Not to mention you were kinda pathetic in your own right earlier this year when you were doing nothing but mope while Charlie was away!

Oh no. Oh no no no no. Nigel doesn’t even realize how big a bruise he just stepped on. Zay immediately backs down, recoiling in embarrassment and instinctively glancing at Charlie. He’s already looking at him, mouth parted slightly, letting that piece of information sink in.

For a split second, it’s like they’re the only two in the room.

Then the inferno continues mercilessly without them, Isa doing them the incidental favor of taking the focus off of Zay as other long-simmering frustrations bubble to the surface.

Isa: Well at least being pathetic about someone not being around makes sense. Way better than being pathetic about someone who is right in front of you.

Dylan: I don’t like where this is going --

Lucas: What are you complaining about now? Haven’t you said enough?

Isa: You, jackass! Or rather, the effect that you have on her!

Isa jabs a finger in Riley’s direction, who blinks at her, affronted.

Riley: I’m sorry, what?

Isa: [ venting to the table ] Being roommates with them is a nightmare. Riley always puts Lucas first. It’s like you’re a completely different person when he’s there versus when he isn’t!

Riley: Um --

Lucas: Leave her alone, Dora.

Yindra: [ under her breath ] It just keeps going and going…

It’s a fucking train wreck. And yet, you can’t look away…

Isa: Don’t tell me what to do. You don’t get it, okay, you’re not the one who ends up third-wheeling all the fucking time because all your stupid friends are dating and then you can’t even rely on your roommate to be normal about it.

Dylan: Hey, let’s just --

Maya: No, no, let them speak. [ taking a bite of food ] They’re right, shit is fucking annoying.

Yindra: Preach.

Zay: Are you all really that pressed about not being invited to one outing? God, if you’re that offended, find an escort. Or like, a hook up. Maybe then you’ll calm the fuck down.

Maya: I don’t think we need to encourage Charlie Gardner’s behavior any more than necessary.

Yindra can’t help but snort, even though she gives Charlie an apologetic look a moment later. He doesn’t even notice, eyes screwed shut like he’s trying to wake up from this nightmare. Or maybe stress praying.

Maya: And our little traveling vagabond aside, I resent being treated like a second-class citizen because I choose not to spend my life simping, Zay Babineaux.

Isa: Thank you, that’s the perfect word! Or if you are gonna be pathetic about it, at least have good friend-boyfriend balance! [ indignant, then back to Riley and Lucas ] Oh, and they have sex, and it’s disgusting!

That’s not news to anyone, but still, not meant for sharing! Lucas is torn between embarrassment and looking like he wants to lunge across the table and murder Isa.

Zay: Well then aren’t you so lucky, Isa, that Friar is moving in with Charlie.

Okay, HUH? Say what? News to basically everyone! Obviously, Lucas didn’t get around to sharing that information with his current roommates. Riley stares at him, completely caught off-guard.

Riley: What?

Isa: Since when? When were you going to mention that?

Lucas: I --

Maya: [ with a delighted cackle ] Oh my God. [ to Charlie ] Is he next?

Well, wouldn’t that be something. Lucas hesitates on that joke, clueless, whereas Charlie just looks mortified. Confusion still reigns predominantly though, as that’s quickly arising as the overall numbing sensation of this entire conversation.

Farkle: Are you guys even friends?

Riley is now feeling the sting of Nigel’s earlier calamity, being completely out of the know with her partner, so she frantically searches for a way to divert attention. Throwing out the only knowledge she has -- since everyone else seems to be so in the loop without her -- she reaches for anything in her arsenal.

Riley: Dylan and Asher are moving in together!

Dylan gasps, looking at her in offense. She automatically mouths an apology, clearly overcome by the heat of the moment. Despite that being shared in confidence, this little bombshell surprises… literally nobody. In fact, it’s the tamest reaction of the night, the entire table basically going “okay, and?”

Yindra, deadpan: I’m shocked.

Zay: Big whoop.

Maya: Disgusting, but not surprising.

Asher is silent, clearly bowled over from everything else they’ve learned and too stunned to realize they’ve become the subject of mocking. But Dylan gets it loud and clear, frowning and making a face as he raises his voice to get the dismissive chatter to quiet down.

Dylan: Hey, hey, hey! I get it, all right, tensions are high, but don’t be fucking rude!

He holds out his hands, like seriously. Then he turns his glare back to Isa -- the one who started all this in the first place.

Dylan: And it’s kind of insane that you’re throwing everyone under the bus for all these things, Dora, when it’s not like you’re not guilty of it yourself. Not communicating, keeping secrets, being pathetic about something? Or someone? Why are you going to rag on Riley when you know damn well that you --

No. Oh God, no. Isa stares at Dylan, quickly glancing towards Farkle before meeting his eyes again and basically pleading for silent mercy. They don’t know that Dylan knows about their feelings -- they’ve never talked about it -- but they know Dylan Orlando, and they know better than to doubt his intuition. They’ve stepped in it tonight, and with righteous action, he could take them down in one foul swoop to shut this disaster down.

They know they probably deserve it.

But even after all that, Dylan holds back. He reigns in his emotion and spares Isa, because unlike everyone else, he has the emotional intelligence to see that outing their secret isn’t going to do anyone any good. It’ll just make things messier -- and they’ve already had enough of that tonight.

Dylan: You know damn well you’ve got your own problems with communication.

Isa is relieved, but it doesn’t last long. Where Dylan showed mercy, Farkle offers none, armed with more than enough pent-up frustration at Isa to eviscerate the whole table.

Farkle: No fucking kidding. It’s hilarious that you’re getting on Riley for apparently being a terrible friend when you’ve got to be the reigning royalty. I mean, fuck, I spend all semester trying, texting you and calling and looking like a loser leaving you voicemails, and then I finally get home and it’s like you couldn’t care less! If you think that’s what friends are, then you’re a damn hypocrite for thinking Riley is the one with issues.

Woof. Based on how emotional his delivery was when the words spilled out, it’s clear Farkle didn’t necessarily mean to say all that. But once he let the sentiment slip, the rest of it came down like a mudslide. Isa stares at him, eyes glossing over with tears, reflecting the ones in his.

You’d think it really couldn’t get any worse than this, but somehow, this group finds a way.

Nigel: Jeez, Isa. That’s not cool.

Oh, Nigel… you picked the absolute wrong time to comment. Lucas’s anger is still simmering, and when Nigel has the gall to open his mouth and say that, it lights the final fuse.

A temper flares, and the kill shot is fired.

Lucas: You really gonna speak up now, Nigel, as if you’re the epitome of friendship? As if you haven’t been talking shit about Riley behind her back for months?

Shit. Shit shit shit. This is a revelation that takes almost everyone by surprise, all eyes turning to Nigel in an instant. He grows pale and stops breathing, the terror of the moment sucking all the oxygen out of the room. For one second, it’s satisfying for Lucas and Isa to see him finally have to face it.

Then, it isn’t. Because the most surprised out of everyone, at the head of the table where she can’t hide, is Riley herself. She blinks, looking to Nigel. Her voice is a shadow when she manages to speak.

Riley, shaky: What?

It’s the most painful silence ever experienced. One that lasts seconds, but feels like an eternal punishment. Nigel shakes his head, trying to find words, but they’re suddenly impossible to locate. His mouth is dry like chalk.

Nigel: I -- Riley, I’m --

But he’s not denying it. The realization dawns on Riley slowly, then all at once. She clears her throat, doing everything in her power to keep her cool while she’s still surrounded by company. She quickly rises to her feet, pushing away from the table. Riley: Excuse me. I need to -- excuse me.

She flees as fast as she can without breaking her fragile composure. No one tries to stop her. They’re all trapped in it too, the fragile state of whatever exorcism they all just participated in. All of them are in a fugue, humiliated or hurt or a disorienting combination of both, trying to process it all. Trying to make sense of the wreckage when it feels like an atomic bomb just leveled their dinner party.

If they ripped off a Band-Aid -- or multiple, more accurately -- it’s managed to open a lot of bullet holes.

The heavy silence lingers, enveloping them like a fog. None of Riley’s sunshine -- artificial or otherwise -- to part the clouds of this storm. Off their somber, conflicted expressions as the gentle acoustic guitar floats in…

INT. NYU APARTMENT - RILEY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Resentment” as performed by Kesha || Performed by AMBITION Ensemble

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

In contrast to the hurricane that just blew through, the performance the group uses to process it all is deceptively simple and understated. It starts with Riley alone, cheeks tear-stained but drying, sitting in her window sill and watching the strangers below begin to trickle their way north towards Time Square.

The revelations from dinner are part of the melancholy, certainly, but it’s not just that reaching its breaking point. It’s not just Nigel. It’s everything -- it’s her best friends that can’t stop fighting, her shoulders aching from carrying everyone else’s tension, the seeming determination by her friends to tear themselves apart no matter how hard she works to tape them together.

I feel loved, darling, I feel used Nobody makes me feel the way that you do

And sometimes, sometimes, she just can’t stand it.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DREAMSCAPE - NIGHT

Riley’s already standing at a microphone front and center, when Zay steps forward to take the microphone next to her and the next line. Farkle’s right behind him, harmonizing with him from the opposite side of Riley.

As the rest of the ensemble joins in, we go wide, revealing that all of our mains present have assembled along the front edge of the imaginary stage of their past. They’re dressed in plain black clothes, styled to their usual taste -- matching yet individualized -- and they all sing on the chorus together. The performance is a gentle a capella, all of them backing the others when they sing solo and harmonizing effortlessly on vocals even if they can’t seem to harmonize personally in reality. The exception to the arrangement is Dylan, who is seated at the edge of the stage on a stool as the one providing the guitar.

Throughout the performance, we cut between this staging and each of them back at the apartment, having found their own corners and hiding places to escape to for a moment.

It’s a hauntingly beautiful rendition, a callback to the greatness that once was their ensemble while simultaneously feeling like a mourning. The way things used to be -- the simplicity, the sureness, the synchronicity -- doesn’t exist anymore. They’ve outgrown it, for better or worse.

Now, they have to figure out how to move forward. How to become whatever they’re meant to be next.

EXT. NYU APARTMENT - NIGHT

But for now, it’s okay to take a second to breathe. It’s okay to let it hurt. Farkle knows this all too well, closing his eyes and powering through it as he sits out on the front steps of Riley’s building alone to get some air.

I don’t hate you, babe, it’s worse than that

INT. NYU APARTMENT - RILEY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Riley does the same, closing her eyes.

Cause you hurt me and I’m more than sad

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DREAMSCAPE - NIGHT

The ensemble grows softer and softer while finishing out the rendition, the lights also becoming dimmer. It slowly sends the ensemble into darkness, narrowing back towards Riley alone at center stage. The only other light stays on Dylan’s guitar, still going even as the song threatens to fall apart.

Once it’s just Riley left illuminated, she exhales out the last line, shaky with emotion but holding it together. She’s been through far too much already to let this be the thing that makes her crumble.

Resentment…

Dylan plucks out a few more rounds of the guitar riff as the lights dim on Riley, slowly petering out… until he comes to a stop. The light disappears from him, throwing us into darkness, as the song comes to an end.

INT. JACK AND ERIC’S PLACE - GUEST BEDROOM - NIGHT

Andrew pops back into the room from the hallway, obviously dressed for a slamming night out. He’s got his hot pants on and his good vibes locked and loaded, ready to ring in the New Year right!

Josh is less so. He’s still in his normal clothes, and he looks tired. When Andrew asks him if he’s ready to go and he pauses, a beat of apprehension passes between them. The second where Josh contemplates telling him he’s just not up for it; the beat where Andrew anticipates it before it even leaves his mouth.

Then, Andrew snaps.

Andrew: No. No, we’re not doing this.

Josh: Doing what?

Andrew: Don’t do that, man. Don’t act like you don’t know you weren’t about to just give me the puppy dog eyes and tell me you’re bailing. I’ve known you long enough -- I’ve left you behind plenty of times to know the tell-tale signs.

Josh opens his mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. Because he can’t -- how could he when Andrew has him pegged?

Andrew: And I’m sorry, but no. Fuck no. We aren’t doing that. Not anymore.

Josh: It’s not that I don’t want to party. I do. It’s just --

Andrew: It’s just the song. It’s just the music. It’s the job, the work, something, something, something. I know what you’re gonna say, Josh, I’ve heard every version of it. This time, though, I’m not letting you do it. I’m not fucking letting you sit yourself on the sidelines.

Josh shakes his head. What is he even talking about? He wouldn’t understand -- no one does, but especially not about this.

Andrew: I don’t understand? Like I haven’t consumed so much secondhand industry angst from living with you for years that it’s not basically my second language at this point? No, man, you don’t understand. That’s the problem.

Josh: What the fuck does that mean?

Andrew: You have let this job, this thing, consume your entire life. And I’m not saying that’s all bad -- I love that you’re so nerdy passionate about it. It’s cringe, but it’s also one of my favorite things about you. I don’t think you should lose that; I don’t want you to. But the way you’re going about things right now isn’t it. It’s not working -- not working for you. I mean, fuck, man, haven’t you ever looked around and realized you’re wasting the best years of your life sitting in idle? Waiting for permission to do what the fuck you were meant to do, as if not doing it in that form means you can’t do it at all?

Josh stares at Andrew, surprised by the outburst but for once, actually listening to what he has to say. Maybe, the point has come where Josh is finally ready to hear it.

Andrew: I don’t know what’s gonna happen with this job, or with the song. I’m sorry that Maya and co. fucked you over -- seriously, that’s shit. I don’t have to make music to know that sucks ass. But what I do know is you need to stop letting life zip by you while you’re waiting for this thing to happen. Stop letting this passion drag you through the mud; stop accepting the bare minimum just for a broken chair at the table. This year shit happened, but it’s done now. It’s over. But next year is right around the corner, and that’s gonna be your year. It’s time to forget the past, break up with the bad bits of your business, and finally make this shit about you!

So no, Josh isn’t sitting out New Year’s. Not on his watch. He’s getting up, and he’s putting on his hot pants, and they’re gonna have some fucking fun. And then when the clock strikes twelve, Josh is going to change his life. He’s going to stop waiting and start living, doing whatever it takes to embrace his future.

The speech works, at least enough to rouse Josh into movement. He starts to dig through his dresser to pick out an outfit, Andrew telling him he’ll wait downstairs and call the Uber. Josh nods, then calls after him when he leaves, waiting for him to reappear in the doorway.

Josh, sincere: Thanks, man.

Andrew grins, giving him a salute.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - ISA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Isa has taken refuge in their room, lucky enough to have a designated place to hide. But it can’t last forever, given the circumstances -- they get up from where they were curled up on the floor in front of their bed when they see the door crack open, steeling themselves for confrontation.

Only it’s the last person they expected to have to face. Maya pokes her head in the room, both of them eyeing the other warily. Defenses up, but a line of communication open…

Maya: Can I come in?

Isa: I mean, you basically already did.

Sort of. Maya follows through and steps fully inside the room, cracking the door behind her. But she doesn’t move any further than that, wisely -- and respectfully -- keeping her distance. An uncomfortable silence fills the space between them until Maya breaks it, unable to take it anymore.

Maya: Look, can we just -- I’m just going to speak, all right?

Isa: Didn’t realize you were capable of anything else.

Maya resists the urge to roll her eyes, allowing the snark. She takes a short breath, doing her best to stay focused.

Maya: I just want to be done with this. Whatever… our thing is. I’m sorry if I hurt you when I left for L.A. Sincerely, I am.

Isa frowns slightly, not necessarily convinced, but they don’t interrupt.

Maya: Even if you don’t believe my remorse, I hope you’ll at least buy that it wasn’t my intention to do that to you. Truth is, I wasn’t thinking about you when I did it. And maybe that’s equally as shitty, but it’s the truth. I didn’t mean to hurt you. You’re one of my -- [ a beat ] you were one of my best friends. I would never do anything purposefully to hurt you.

As much as it still stings, and as nice as righteous anger feels, Isa knows she’s telling the truth. Even if they’re not ready to forgive her, they know she isn’t bullshitting. Maya is rarely capable of not telling it like it is -- in her world, at least.

Maya: But regardless, you don’t have to forgive me. We don’t… we don’t have to fix our shit. That’s up to you. If you wanna hate me for the rest of our lives, then… then fine. That’s your prerogative. You know I can hold a grudge with the best of them, so far be it for me to lecture you otherwise. [ a beat ] But please, don’t take it out on Farkle.

Ah. There’s the seed at the center of this thorny pickle. Isa softens somewhat. Of all the things Maya could’ve brought up to build a bridge of truce between them, she played her cards well.

Maya: He didn’t do anything. He didn’t convince me to go out there with him; he isn’t picking sides. He, probably more than either of us, just wants things to be okay again. And I can’t give him that, can’t act like everything will go back to how it used to be, but… I can do this. I can swallow my pride, and ask you not to let whatever beef you have with me fall back on him. I think the least we could do would be to spare him from the middle. [ a beat ] He cares about you, and he misses you. He doesn’t deserve whatever punishment you think I’m meant to get.

Maya has no idea. She has no idea how much Isa wishes the same, regrets that he’s ended up the casualty of all their own baggage. She could never possibly comprehend how much they care about him -- Isa can barely stomach it.

But they’re right. This is the least they could possibly do. After a long moment, Isa nods.

There’s a light knock on the door, both of them jumping slightly. Isa remembers it’s their room soon enough to allow the person entry, Lucas uncertainly stepping in a couple seconds later. He quickly assesses the situation, obviously not anticipating to find Maya of all people in here.

Lucas: Uh, I can come back --

Maya: No, it’s fine. I was just leaving. [ meeting Isa’s eyes ] Think we covered everything that mattered.

Even with the gaping wound they’re both still carrying in their chests where their friendship used to be. Where they both wish it still was, even if they’re too prideful or scared to admit it. Isa nods in agreement, waiting for Maya to step around Lucas and make her exit.

She shuts the door behind her, leaving the two of them alone. They exchange cautious eye contact for a long moment, given that their last conversation was so volatile… but the walls can’t stay up long when it’s just the two of them. They know each other too well; there’s nothing left to hide. Isa releases a tired exhale and lowers back down to the floor, slouching against their bed frame.

Isa: If you’re going to murder me, could you make it quick? I think it would be a sweet release from whatever the hell this is.

Lucas: Wasn’t on my agenda, sorry. I’m not trying to make this night any more of a clusterfuck than it already is.

Tartar sauce. Isa sighs, tilting their head back… then they look at him.

Isa: You can sit, if you want. You know, if we’re not battling to the death.

Lucas: … depends. You still have a grocery black market down there?

Isa: Maybe.

Ugh… but Lucas relents anyway, settling down on the carpet next to them. He pulls his knees up, anxiously fidgeting his fingers and picking at a hangnail. Waiting for the quiet to naturally give way and open up conversation between them rather than having to find the way forward themselves…

It happens eventually. It always does with them. It’s one of the few things they can count on.

Isa: So, you’re moving out, huh?

Lucas: Potentially. I’m sure you won’t miss me.

Isa: The one social etiquette brain cell I have is telling me this is where I’m supposed to assure you otherwise. The rest of me doesn’t have the energy to lie to you.

Not the sweetest good riddance, but ironically, it makes Lucas chuckle. Because it feels normal -- it feels like them. Honesty, sometimes brutal, is one of the things they’ve always shared, even when the truth isn’t pretty.

Isa: It’s not about you, you know. I wish things were easier, that it could just… be your space too. In a perfect world, it would work out that way.

Lucas: Yeah. We don’t really do perfect world, though.

Isa: Never. Because the universe fucking loves us. [ off his scoff ] I tried to make it work, too, but that just made it all worse. But like… look, I was a shitty roommate. To you. I think we both were. Something about it wasn’t right, but… that wasn’t about you.

Kind of inarticulate, but Lucas gets what they mean. He feels the same way. Isa meets his eyes.

Isa: I love you, Lucas. For some God forsaken reason, we’re stuck together, and I don’t want that to change. You’re my brother, and I’ll always love you. [ shaking their head ] I just think… we were not meant to live together.

Lucas can’t help but laugh, shaking his head too. Maybe that’s why they weren’t brought into this world as actual siblings… but that’s okay, too. Some people just aren’t meant to cross that boundary, no matter how close they are otherwise.

Better they peacefully make a truce now and find a different way forward, before the damage becomes so great that they can’t turn back.

INT. APARTMENT BUILDING - HALLWAY - NIGHT

Jade has found her temporary reprieve out in the hall, seated against the wall by the door. Asher is currently with her, crouched beside her while the two talk softly. They go quiet when the apartment door opens, Nigel stepping out and locking eyes with them.

Nigel: Got a sec?

Asher looks to Jade, letting her make the call. She nods, giving Asher a light smile to assure him she’ll be okay. As he gets up to head back inside, Nigel and Asher exchange a silent look, all the revelations from the evening hanging around them…

Then Asher leaves them alone. Jade starts to get up but Nigel quickly waves her down, instead dropping down to sit with her. Their tone is equally gentle, like they’re wary of causing any further disturbance.

Jade: Did you talk to Riley?

Nigel: [ with a deep breath ] Not yet. I want to give her as much space as possible, and strategically, I think it would be wise for me to save that for last before I inevitably get rightfully booted out of here.

Jade tilts her head at him, lightly shaking it. She doesn’t see that happening… but anyway, that’s his challenge to face alone.

Nigel: Right now, I’m more interested in this very cool job offer you apparently have in your back pocket.

Jade lets out a weak laugh, sheepish. Tentatively, she gives him the broad overview, describing the role and the company. Nigel listens attentively.

Nigel: And you took the interview? How did it go? Did you like them?

Jade: … it was really good. They seem cool.

Nigel: Yeah?

Jade: Yeah. Yeah, I think… I think I would like it. Maybe. Though I thought I would like Anya Kelly too, and we know how that turned out.

Nigel: You thought you’d like Anya because everyone else said you should like it. That’s not the same thing. From what you’ve told me, it sounds like an incredible opportunity. [ a beat ] I’m just not sure why you wouldn’t want to jump at it… or why you didn’t want to tell me.

Jade pauses, trying to find the right words. Only that makes things harder, because the more she thinks about it, the more emotional she becomes. Her delivery grows shaky.

Jade: It’s not… I did want to tell you. It’s just… we’ve had… things have been so… weird. This semester.

Nigel, sincere: Jade, if you thought for one second you shouldn’t take an opportunity like this because of me, to spare my feelings, don’t. I don’t ever want you to feel like you have to put yourself on hold just to placate me. Ever. If I made you feel like --

Jade: No, no, you didn’t. I never thought that. And I knew, I think, if I told you you’d say exactly that. [ a beat ] I think it was more like… everything has already felt so shaky and unsteady this year. Everything. Not just us. And yes, this sounds amazing, but… Los Angeles is so far away. It would be so different. I had a hard enough time grappling with the changes so far, and being a shitty friend and girlfriend in the meantime --

Nigel: You weren’t. Don’t say that.

Jade, teary: That I don’t think I was scared of how you might react. I think -- I think I’m scared of myself. Like if I make a choice like this, it’ll change everything -- it could ruin everything -- so my brain has convinced myself that it’s better to stand still and do nothing at all. [ with a scoff ] God, I sound like Asher.

Maybe so. Anxiety is the drink of the year in these college days! Nigel empathizes, but he gently nudges back against that thinking. It would be far, that’s true, and it would be a change. But she wouldn’t be alone. She’s lucky enough to have peers out there who she could connect with, so she wouldn’t be jumping into the deep end with no support. Not to mention, some kind of change could be welcome.

Nigel: When I was all… worked up about you and Anya Kelly, yes, a bit of that was my own bullshit. Feeling stranded, left behind, that’s stuff I had to work through. But it was also because I couldn’t stand seeing how she treated you -- and the latest lack of credit is just the nail in the coffin. [ off her nod ] This new job could be a totally different experience, in all the right ways. They seem to value your creativity, and a small start-up is probably way more interested in sharing the credit than one of the biggest designers in the world.

All good points. Nigel reaches up and gently wipes a tear from Jade’s cheek with his thumb.

Nigel: And what absolutely won’t change, no matter where you are, is this. You know we’re all going to have your back every step of the way -- especially me. Los Angeles is far, yes, but we’ll find ways to make it work. You are the most badass problem-solver I know; it’s just another challenge that’ll be no match for you.

Jade laughs lightly, giving him an appreciative smile. Obviously, the decision is still hers, but Nigel makes his point loud and clear that there should be no confusion as to whether he’s supportive of the idea. If she wants to make the leap, try a new adventure where she might actually be valued, then he’ll do whatever it takes to help make it work.

She leans forward and gives him a soft kiss, leaning into the familiar comfort of being near him.

EXT. NYU APARTMENT - FIRE ESCAPE - NIGHT

Zay’s refuge is the tiny balcony of a fire escape outside the bay window. He’s settled himself amidst the plants Riley has arranged along the small slice of outdoors, listening to the distant din of revelers crowding into Time Square and searching the sky for any answers as to what the hell just happened in there.

They don’t have the solutions, but the cosmos may be able to summon a start. Zay glances over his shoulder as the window pane opens, Charlie poking his head out moments later. They exchange eye contact for a second -- the first since all their secrets spilled all over the dining table -- before Charlie manages to speak.

Charlie: Mind if I join?

Zay: If you think you can. This slab of concrete is about two inches wide.

Charlie: Worth the risk, I think. Less tense than in here -- the room is still smoking from that dinner conversation.

Zay scoffs, Charlie climbing through the window and pulling himself out onto the fire escape. He settles down next to Zay, but keeps a slice of distance between them, essentially as much as the space will allow. He brings his arms up to hug his knees.

Charlie: Besides, you know how I feel about balconies.

That he does… it is definitely a nice spot to get some fresh air. Clear your head. The two of them sit in silence for a moment, listening to the soft approach of the New Year in the distance… but Charlie’s gaze drifts back to Zay before too long.

Charlie: You okay? After… um, all that.

Zay shrugs, making a face. Okay? Sure. Sane? Well…

Zay: Damn, could I go for a blunt right now.

Charlie cracks up at that, surprising both of them at how easily the laughter slips out. With all the tension floating around -- between the group, between them -- it feels like a small miracle that it can sound so easy. Zay can’t help but mirror it, laughing lightly and exchanging a smile with him.

It lingers a bit too long, so they both avert their gaze. Zay searches for what to say next.

Zay: You try that too on all your foreign adventures, by the way? A little European dope?

Charlie: Uh, nope. Didn’t explore every possible boundary breaker out there while I was gone.

Zay: Bummer. For you. Shoulda done it at the raves you didn’t go to.

Charlie: [ with an eye roll ] Legal drinking usually took care of the same objectives, so. [ a beat ] But no, uh, some things felt like too much to tackle on my own. Out there. Stuff I’d rather do with people I trust. Guess that fell into that category.

Though this appears to be a night where it would come in handy. Zay’s about to say as much, to again break the awkward silence, but Charlie beats him to it.

Charlie: I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.

Zay: About what?

Charlie: Farkle. About me and -- I didn’t want you to find out like that.

Zay shrugs, aiming for nonchalant.

Zay: It’s fine. None of my business.

Yeah… right… and yet.

Charlie: It’s not that I was like, keeping it from you. Or anything. I don’t want you to think that.

Zay: You wouldn’t have had to tell me. Why would you have?

Charlie: I know. I know. [ a beat ] Just --

Zay: It’s really whatever. You’ve got your things, I’ve got… [ clearing his throat ] It’s not a big deal. I mean, I’m a bit concerned for your mental wellness, and why you would choose to partake in the Minkus fruit of all things, but hey, acquired tastes.

Charlie laughs sheepishly. A bit grateful Zay can find humor in it, even if for whatever reason, it doesn’t feel at all funny.

Charlie: It’s a long story. But it wasn’t… [ not sure what he wants to say ] It wasn’t a thing. We weren’t --

Zay: Again, you don’t have to explain yourself. It’s none of my business.

Charlie: Right. I know. [ after a beat, compulsive ] I just -- I don’t want this to make things… I wouldn’t have hidden it from you. I wasn’t trying to. And I know it’s not your business, but I don’t want to make it… things between us, I don’t ever want to do anything that might --

The words aren’t coming out right; he can’t articulate what he wants to say. Yet somehow, like always, Zay seems to understand.

Zay: Charlie.

He meets his eyes, expression soft. Charlie holds his gaze, hanging on whatever words are going to come next.

Zay: It’s okay. We’re cool.

The trysts while abroad, the new girlfriend at home -- none of it matters. They didn’t have to tell each other; they could’ve found better ways to if so, but the truth is out regardless. Things aren’t the same, but they can wipe the slate clean. They can just… start again.

They’re okay. They’re cool.

Charlie manages a smile, nodding and trying to accept that. Zay’s endless grace and effortless ability to calm his frayed nerves; the reality of their new normal. He hasn’t totally screwed everything up.

He still has Zay. At the end of the day, that’s all that matters.

Zay: So, any other groundbreaking bombshells from your journey you want to get off your chest now before we call it even? ‘Tis the season, apparently. Speak now or forever hold your peace, while I’m already sitting down.

Zay says it jokingly, with just a hint of weariness, but Charlie’s contemplation is real. The biggest bombshell he’s ever carried is sitting heavy on his chest, resting against his skin on a chain under his shirt. The truth he intended to get out, the confession he’s been waiting to share for what feels like an eternity. Zay’s right there in front of him, looking him in the eyes and inviting a stunner. The words caught forever on the tip of his tongue…

But they’ve wiped the slate clean.

Charlie: [ raising his hands in surrender ] Nope. I’m all out of cards.

They’re okay. They’re cool. Just best friends, figuring out all this shit together.

Charlie won’t do anything to risk that ever again.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - RILEY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Riley is still seated on her window sill, but her tears have dried. She’s pensive, but calm, thinking about what to do next. When there’s a gentle knock on her door, her expression is apprehensive, but she steels her nerve and invites whoever it is inside. Have to face her guests sooner or later…

Thankfully, this first visitor is the least intimidating of the bunch -- at least to her. Lucas steps inside and closes the door behind him, offering her a tentative smile. She returns it easily, relieved it’s only him.

Lucas: You okay?

Riley: Yeah. I am.

Lucas: … you sure? If you’re saying that just because you have guests --

He knows her well. But no, in this case, she’s being honest. She laughs lightly, nodding to accent the point.

Riley: No, no. I really am. Fine. [ with an attempt at humor ] If you think this is the worst humiliation I’ve faced, you truly haven’t been paying attention.

Oof, but touché. Riley turns towards him as he makes his way over to join her, coming to sit on the floor against the sill. When he’s landed, Riley slides down to join him on the carpet.

Lucas: I’m sorry that I did that. Called Nigel out that way in front of everyone. Not that I don’t think he deserved it, but I wasn’t thinking about how it would make you feel. I just… [ reluctant ] I lost my temper. And you got hurt because of it. I’m sorry.

Riley shakes her head, giving him a gentle smile.

Riley: It’s okay. I know you meant well. And besides, it’s for the best. I’d rather know than be kept in the dark.

Lucas: It shouldn’t have been like that, though.

Riley: But it was. So it goes. At least I know now. [ a beat ] I don’t need to talk about that with you. I’m more interested in that other little secret of yours that got out…

Ah, yes… Lucas frowns, forcing himself to meet her eyes.

Lucas: I was going to tell you. I swear, I wasn’t trying to hide it from you.

Riley: Lucas --

Lucas: I know how things have been with me and just disappearing… that’s not what I was trying to do. It all just kind of happened really fast. I had been considering it, admittedly, but after that fight with Dora about these stupid boots, I kind of just snapped. Made the choice. But then it still felt right, even after the anger, so I figured maybe I shouldn’t back down from it. Maybe I made that call for a reason.

Riley: Lucas…

Lucas: But I had to think of the right way to tell you. I wanted to get it right. I didn’t -- don’t -- want you to think I want to leave because of you. That we don’t work. Because we do. That’s not the problem. If it were different, if it were just you and me --

Riley: Lucas. [ touching his cheek ] I get it. Seriously, I do.

Lucas hesitates, holding her gaze. Surprised that she’s not more upset; impressed once again by her capacity to understand, even when he doesn’t fully himself. Maybe he’s amazed…

Lucas: Yeah?

Riley: You do realize it wasn’t just you and Isa living in that nightmare, right? I was there. I love you both, but you are terrible, terrible roommates. [ off his embarrassed laugh ] At least, with each other. It wasn’t working. I wish it did --

Lucas: You tried. We both know you did.

Riley: But it doesn’t. So you’ve got to figure out something else -- likely for all of our sakes.

Lucas: So you aren’t mad?

Riley: Definitely no. Disappointed, a little, but not because of you. Just because of… how it is. That it couldn’t be easy. Though to be clear, in our defense, I think you and I weren’t too shabby at the whole shacking up thing.

Lucas: Yeah… yeah, me too.

Riley: So right now, it doesn’t work. [ brushing hair from his forehead affectionately ] But maybe someday…

Things will be different. They’ve got a whole life ahead of them, and plenty of time to shack up. Who knows what the future holds… Riley shrugs.

Riley: Besides, it’s not like that much will change. I’ll still see you all the time. And now I have an excuse to see Charlie and bother him all the time, which is like double prizes. You’re actually making my life so much more convenient.

Lucas: Oh, yeah?

Riley: Mhm. Not to mention you’re totally going to become best friends and then I’ll have fully melded all my favorite people together with steel. All according to plan.

Lucas: [ trying not to laugh ] Okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves…

Riley: Oh, I’m way ahead. I’m seeing prophecies you wouldn’t even believe. I’ve already ordered the friendship bracelets -- in blue, of course, the only color both of you own.

All right, she cracked him. Lucas laughs in spite of himself, cheeks flushing slightly, earning a bright smile from her in response. She takes his hand and waits for him to look at her again.

Riley: We’ll be okay. Doesn’t matter where you’re staying the night... [ lightly tugging on the lanyard around his neck ] I’m still with you.

Lucas nods, leaning forward to give her a soft kiss. She steals another quick one, Lucas bumping their noses together once they pull apart.

Lucas: With you.

As it should be. Riley could probably stay there comfortably with him forever, protected and sheltered by their inexplicable shared peace, but the real world calls. There’s another knock at the door, this one even more timid than Lucas’s earlier. Riley and Lucas put a bit more distance between them as she straightens up, clearing her throat and granting them entrance.

Nigel hesitantly puts one foot in the room, hovering in the doorway. He glances to Lucas, then back to Riley, using his entire backbone not to wilt and slip through the floor.

Nigel: Hoping to talk with you for a minute. If you have the time. Totally okay if not, or if you don’t want to.

He wouldn’t blame her if not. Riley contemplates for a moment, Lucas waiting for her cue… then she nods, allowing Nigel to enter. She squeezes Lucas’s hand, signaling she’ll be okay. So he leaves the two of them alone, but not before shooting Nigel a warning glare as he heads out of the room.

No need for the theatrics, Lucas. Nigel is already more than intimidated, heart caught in his throat as Riley gets to her feet. They just look at one another for a long moment, Riley waiting for him to speak while Nigel searches frantically for his courage. He knew facing this would be hard, but it was hard to imagine just how much. Somehow, Riley’s calmness almost makes it worse. She gestures to the bed.

Riley: Do you want to sit, or -- ?

Nigel: [ voice cracking ] I’m sorry. Riley, I’m so fucking sorry.

Riley listens attentively as Nigel breaks into a frazzled apology. It’s a bit all over the place, clearly riddled with anxiety, but the sincerity of it is crystal clear. He recaps how the pattern started, how he kind of fell into the rabbit hole of Imogen and Abby, and how most times he couldn’t -- or didn’t try to -- find the way out.

Nigel: I should’ve done more. I know that. I should’ve said something, or walked -- no, I should’ve said something, because at least then I would’ve done something. You’ve been nothing but nice to me the entire time we’ve been classmates, and friends, and if I were a fraction as nice I wouldn’t have hesitated. I should’ve stood up for you. Sooner. Right away. Not when it was already too late.

But he didn’t. Because he’s always been a pushover, a coward, and this year it’s felt like he doesn’t know anything else about himself beyond that. He barely knows who he is anymore, who he’s become at NYU, but he knows damn well he doesn’t want to be that. The one who badmouths his friends, or lets others do it, when under the slightest of pressure.

Riley gives him a sympathetic look.

Riley: It’s hard to be in that situation. If I were in your shoes, I’d probably also --

Nigel: No. No, you wouldn’t, Riley. [ shaking his head ] You wouldn’t, because you’re a good friend. The best there is. You’re a good person. A really, really good person. I took advantage of that. You wouldn’t. [ choked up ] You’re a good person, and I’m…

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what he is. Riley empathizes, in spite of his assertions that he doesn’t deserve it -- she knows how hard it is to feel lost and adrift.

Nigel: But anyway, this isn’t about me. And my bullshit. I’m not trying to make it about that. [ meeting her eyes ] What I’m trying to say is I’m really, truly sorry. For not being a good friend, for not meeting you in the middle. For saying shitty things I shouldn’t have, and not saying the right things when I should’ve. For taking advantage of our friendship, and for letting it get to the point where you had to find out like this in front of everyone. You deserved to know, and I messed that up too. I fully understand if you’re upset with me, or want me to leave, or -- or want to drop me. Seriously, I would get it completely. So do whatever you need to do. For you. Just please, please know how sorry I am.

Riley absorbs his apology. She thinks on it, examines him, weighs her options. Yes, hearing about what he did behind her back hurt. She doesn’t want, or deserve, to be treated by her friends that way. She knows that. If she wanted to expel him from her life, she would have every right.

But she’s forgiven much worse. She saw the good in Farkle, even when he could no longer see it in himself. She saw the good in Charlie, even when his own internal strife was threatening to suffocate it. She saw the good in Lucas, even when no one else did, and now she can’t imagine her life without him. Riley knows far too well that people make mistakes, that sometimes good people make bad choices -- and sometimes a second chance is all it takes for them to make up for it and become some of the best people in your life.

Riley does judge of character better than anyone, and she knows when a line is crossed too far to come back from. In the case of Nigel Chey, her choice is astonishingly easy.

To his surprise, she leans forward and pulls him into a hug. Soft, reassuring.

Riley: “Do as the heavens have done, forget your evil. With them forgive yourself.”

I forgive you. Forgive yourself.

Leave it to Riley to have the right thing to say in the moment, and a Shakespeare quote no less. Nigel can’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it… and then he’s crying, both out of guilt and relief. Riley lets him, continuing to hold him.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - NIGHT

Isa emerges from their room, scanning the living area until they find who they’re looking for. It takes every ounce of courage they have -- bravado they used to deal in so skillfully that feels like it’s evaporated in the last couple of years -- but they make their way over to Farkle. He sees them coming, apprehensive but not automatically sending them away.

For a long moment, they just look at each other. Not sure how to speak, when talking to each other used to be the easiest thing in their world. Then Isa offers a sheepish smile.

Isa: Would it even matter if I said I was sorry?

Farkle scoffs a laugh, but it’s weak. At this point, no, suppose it wouldn’t -- they both know they’re sorry. They know something has gone sideways between them, and it’s going to take more than a few apologetic words to set it right.

But Isa wants to try.

Isa: I never meant to make you feel so shitty. I know I did, and I’m not saying that as an excuse. I completely get it. Things have just been… I’ve been having a really shit time trying to sort things out. Get my priorities in order. [ gazing at him ] Think I kinda lost the most important ones in the process.

Farkle: I don’t know what happened. [ a beat, then shaking his head ] I don’t know when… when everything got so fucking complicated.

He’s not just talking about them. It’s all of it. It’s the pains of growing, something everyone in that apartment is attempting to detangle into something manageable.

Isa: Me neither. Well, it’s always been complicated, but I guess now it’s just really hard not to notice. [ a beat ] I treated you like shit, Farkle. You’re right, that’s not friendship. And I’m sorry, even if saying it doesn’t really make a difference. I want you to hear it. I want you to know I mean it.

Farkle meets their eyes, holding their gaze. For a fleeting moment, it feels like home -- familiar, known, the thing he aches to leave behind. For a second, it calls back to earlier moments of connection -- a reflection of the self in an empty counselor’s office; an inkling of something profound shared center stage with an acting block beneath your feet and a series of honest truths on the tip of your tongue.

Farkle: Can we just… can it just be like it was? Again? Just… start it all over, go back to the start.

Isa: … I don’t know if you want to go all the way back. I’d have to clock you with a paint balloon and want to tear your head off for that.

That earns a genuine laugh. Evocative of so much history between them, fondness in the good and even in the bad.

Farkle: Maybe not. Just to… what we were. What we were supposed to be. When it was easy. [ wistfully ] I really miss my OG director.

Isa can’t guarantee him anything. Who knows if they can go back to anything, let alone the best of times. It would feel impossible at this rate, when their heart pounds the way it does around him and the feelings they harbor are so much deeper than friendship.

But it’s all they have to offer, so Isa gives him a nod.

Isa: We can try, Icarus. We can damn well try.

For now, that’s enough. Farkle smiles, hope tinging his expression with a renewed sense of life.

Isa: I think I might take some time off. From school and stuff.

Farkle: Oh?

Isa: Yeah… a professor told me he didn’t think I was focused on it. That I didn’t want to be there. And I hated him for that, and the insinuation, but now I kinda think he was right. Not that I don’t wanna be there -- I do. But maybe not right now. Not when I’ve got so much other shit to figure out.

That being said, one of those major things is stuff with Zachary… who happens to be in Los Angeles. If all goes to plan, Isa may be spending much more time in Farkle’s new neck of the woods. It would be good to have a familiar face to rely on when they’re there. A friend to count on.

Isa: Place to crash, maybe, if everything with good ol’ dad goes to shit… [ raising their eyebrows ] Know anybody with a free couch?

Farkle’s smile widens.

All eyes shift to Nigel and Riley as they exit her bedroom, the rest of the ensemble going quiet. For a beat, they hang in suspense, trying to scan their expressions for any sign of permanent fracture…

Then Riley offers a light smile, holding out her arms and easing back into the role of hostess.

Riley: This is a sorry looking bunch. Aren’t we supposed to be having a party?

The others laugh, nervously at first... and then slowly life comes back to the room again. It becomes easier to breathe.

For now, things are okay. They’ll be okay. With Riley’s open mind and optimistic heart, the new year might just be the best one yet.

Won’t know until they ring it in right.

INT. MANHATTAN CLUB - BAR - NIGHT

As the clock ticks down to the end of the year, Andrew’s encouragement seems to have done Josh some good. He’s out on the town and appearing to have fun, at least with cheeks flushed from dancing (poor as it might be), and that’s a noteworthy improvement. He approaches the bar and orders a mojito, waiting patiently at the counter while the bass thumps under his feet.

The bartender slides a glass onto the countertop, a mojito just like Josh ordered. He reaches for it, only to collide with another hand doing the same. Smaller, slimmer, nails painted dark indigo. He lifts his gaze to see who’s trying to cop his drink.

The dark-haired woman with eyeliner framing her icy blue eyes isn’t familiar to Josh. But she is to us.

Bridgette Gardner.

To Josh, she’s just another body at the bar, though he gives her the opportunity to explain why she’s trying to snag his beverage. She doesn’t disappoint, not waiting for an invitation to assert her defense.

Bridgette: Sorry to break it to you, but I was here first. You’ll have to get into the mojito line.

So they just have the same taste in drinks. Honest mistake. Josh clears his throat and apologizes, nudging the glass on the counter towards her.

Josh: My bad. I’ll buy you another one, make it up to you. If you want.

Bridgette: Wow. How noble. You just have money to burn, or are you trying to score?

It takes Josh a second to get what she’s saying. His cheeks flush, more noticeable under the strobe lighting of the club.

Josh: Oh, I wasn’t -- sorry, I’m not trying to --

His flustered response is amusing to Bridgette, as well as convincing her his intent was pure. She waves him off, assuring him it’s all good.

Bridgette: So if you’re not out for blood, what does bring you into this place on New Year’s Eve? No family or friends to ring in auld lang syne with or whatever?

Josh: Both, just not here. Except for one -- [ nodding to Andrew on the dance floor ] and he’s the one who chose to come here.

And he seems to be having a grand old time.

Josh: And family, yes, though not here. At least, not right now. My brother is out of town celebrating his engagement --

Bridgette: [ with a hum and raising her glass slightly ] Mazel tov.

Josh: And then there’s my niece, but she’s already got plans with her crowd and to be honest, I’d rather not spend the night hanging out with college freshmen.

Bridgette: Niece? [ looking him over ] Are you the accident, or just extremely baby-faced?

Josh cracks up at that. He might be a bit charmed by her candor, the unaffected way she speaks.

Josh: The former. Although I have been told I boast a bit of boyish appeal.

Bridgette: You don’t say. [ after a beat ] One point for hot uncles, then.

Josh smiles to himself. He’s not usually the type to talk up strangers in the club, but so far, this one isn’t going so bad. Bridgette must agree somewhat, because she keeps it going even when she could’ve easily walked away by now.

Bridgette: Well, I gotta tell you, mojito, you don’t seem to be having nearly the same amount of fun as your friend boogie feet over there.

Josh: [ with a chuckle ] Yeah… yeah, you would not be the first to say it. I’m working on that. [ making a face ] It’s been kind of a year. Or… many years.

As Josh vaguely alludes to, he thinks he’s been trapped in something that’s worse than he wants it to be. Something he wants to make work, wishes would, but it isn’t. So now he’s trying to… get over that, find a way to move on. To figure out what will work. Bridgette hums knowingly.

Bridgette: Escaping a toxic relationship. Ain’t we all been there.

Once she says it, Josh hears it for the first time. It hadn’t occurred to him to think of it that way.

Josh: You got one of your own?

Bridgette: Oh, naturally. And mine runs in the family, so extra fun and juicy.

Josh: Oof, I get that. Things are kinda weird with my folks. Smother mom?

Bridgette: By trade. Very proud, knows everything, has a very set way of looking at the world. And in her world, I never fit quite right. Once I got a little too curious and a little too sexy for my shirt, she decided she’d had enough. Kicked my ass to the curb, full disinheritance in everything but writing. Hasta la vista.

Josh, stunned: Jesus.

Bridgette: Mm, yeah, him too.

Well. The things you learn about fellow strangers at the bar. The bartender finally returns with Josh’s mojito, apologizing for the wait. Once they’re left alone again, Josh searches for what to say.

Josh: I’m… I’m sorry that happened.

Bridgette: Please. Spare me the pity. Being the sob story got old about five years ago. [ with a shrug ] Past is the past. I’m doing my own shit and thriving, so it’s her loss. If someone isn’t gonna appreciate you for what you are, get to know the real you and treat you as such, it isn’t worth the stress.

Josh: … yeah. For sure. [ a beat ] Kinda wish I knew a little more of you.

Okay, now he’s flirting. Or trying his best, which is its own weird form of endearing. Bridgette eyes him with narrowed eyes, trying to figure him out, the ghost of a smile on her lips… then she lifts her drink.

Bridgette: Good luck, mojito. To the new year, and a fresh start.

Josh returns her smile, tapping his mojito against hers. As the rhythmic dance beat kicks up --

INT. MANHATTAN NIGHT CLUB - DANCE FLOOR - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Maybe You’re Right” as performed by Miley Cyrus || Performed by Josh Matthews

The atmospheric music underscores Josh’s descent into the nightlife of the New Year, stylistically framed in cool neon and flashes of frenetic energy. Tonight, everyone is soaking life up for all its worth. The lyrics of the performance speak to the daunting task that lies ahead of him. Evaluating the way things are as he knows them, deciding whether or not the current romance of his life -- his career -- is worth the pain. If it’s treating him the way he deserves… or if he might need to leave it behind.

If this is what we are, then I gotta move on You think this is everything, but this is no book of love

The number unfolds in the sweep of the dance floor, capturing the scene as Josh walks amongst it. All the different people from all walks of life, immersing themselves in the escapism of music. Absorbing the hypnotic panacea of the beat, sharing a moment of heart-pounding life with strangers they’ll probably never meet again. Being themselves, uninhibited and free and a little bit wild -- prioritizing themselves.

Eventually, Josh joins them, losing himself to the rhythm. Forgetting about the bullshit for a minute, about the dead-end dreams and broken agreements. There will be time to make the hard choices; there will be time to write the next chapter. For tonight, as his friends so wisely advised, he lets himself breathe.

Tonight, in the first step towards the rest of his life, Josh sets himself free.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - NIGHT

On the TV, Ryan Seacrest is chatting with his colleagues as five minutes remain in 2021. The chatter is equally excited in the apartment, the mood having buoyed back to normal in the aftermath of all the catharsis. Riley looks around from where she’s standing at the center with Isa and Dylan, fondly taking in the experience. Grateful that everyone she loves was able to come together, in spite of the tensions that threatened to pull them apart.

Though a few of those remain unresolved… Farkle approaches Maya, who asks him if he’s okay. He nods, then braves asking the question he really wants to know.

Farkle: Is it true? What Yindra said -- how you feel about Jordan?

Maya holds his eye contact, uncharacteristically timid. She doesn’t want to take this away from him when she knows how badly he wanted it. She may not want to simp, but she does love hard, and Farkle gets most of hers. She doesn’t want to be the one to hurt him with the truth.

She’s spared for now. Farkle tenses up as Zay approaches, joining them in the corner. Sensing the heaviness, Maya gives them some space.

Maya: I need to go throw some digs at Garcia before the New Year. I was so distracted during that clusterfuck of a dinner, I didn’t get to use some of my best material.

She downs the rest of her current drink and leaves them alone. The two of them haven’t spoken yet since the bombshell extravaganza, and Farkle doesn’t know what to expect. Zay doesn’t know he knows about his history with Charlie, and he’s got a new girlfriend and everything, but Farkle prepares himself for the worst.

But Zay doesn’t want to talk about his little tryst with Charlie. With only five minutes left to go, he has to give his best intentions one last shot.

Zay: Riley mentioned you were leaving right after the ball drop?

Farkle: Uh, yeah. Family is hosting a New Year’s thing too, and I promised I’d be back before Ezra inevitably crashes. We usually talk to Raziel, too, since he’s in Europe --

Zay: Right. Sure. [ a beat ] So I probably won’t see you again before you go back to L.A.

Farkle: No. No, I guess likely not.

Zay: Right… well. Good seeing you. And good luck with Last Five Years.

Farkle: … thanks. And uh, good to see you too.

Mhm, mhm… Farkle doesn’t know how to comport himself after how he left their last conversation. He knows he should apologize for how he acted, what he said to Zay, but doing so feels like backing down. Admitting something is wrong, that he isn’t in the right -- and the prospect of that feels too scary to even contemplate.

But Zay doesn’t expect that from him. Been there, done that. Instead, he spurs reflection by breaking an entirely different convention, initiating a hug goodbye. Farkle is caught off guard, but returns the embrace, clearly not opposed to it. In a world where they weren’t suddenly so at odds, this kind of display of friendship would make Farkle’s night.

When they pull apart, Zay holds his shoulders, not breaking eye contact.

Zay: Just… think about what I said. Okay?

A simple request, but it feels like one of the biggest challenges Zay has ever leveled at him. Farkle swallows, but manages a nod.

It’s not clear whether he intends to keep that promise or not.

Meanwhile, Yindra is nearest to the front door and pulls it open when there’s a knock at the door, Vanessa arriving late as promised. Riley floats over to greet her, inviting her in and telling her she’s just in time for the ball drop. Vanessa thanks her for the invitation again, taking off her coat as Zay comes to join them.

Vanessa: Sorry I didn’t get here sooner, got caught up in Summer’s thing later than I thought. Hope I didn’t miss anything major.

Zay: I promise, nothing you would’ve wanted to see.

Let’s just leave it at that. The countdown of the final minute begins, everyone growing more excited and gathering around the TV while Dylan hands out glasses of cider and champagne. Riley comes back to join the group, nestling in the middle between Lucas and Farkle and accepting a flute from Dylan with a bright smile. She takes one more look around at all of them, together, celebrating the end of a crazy year together.

She wills it to stay this way; that the years to come always bring them back together like this.

Yindra: Okay, okay, here we go, people --

Dylan: Let’s fucking go, IT’S T-MINUS TEN --

And so the final countdown begins! They all chant along.

Five, four, three, two…

INT. HART APARTMENT - MAYA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Maya returns to her apartment a couple hours later, tired but in a good mood. Despite the craziness of the evening, and the unexpected confrontations, it was a good night. A good time, with good people, in the best city there is.

And the emotional heft of the night may not have been for nothing either. Still buzzed from the new year excitement, Maya isn’t ready to sleep -- in fact, she’s got that sparkle in her eyes that signals her mind is churning. She peels off her coat and settles down on her bed, reaching to switch on her bedside lamp and pulling her songwriting notebook onto her lap.

What a wild, bewildering, overwhelming year it’s been… with so much inspiration to tap into. Emotional, maybe, but perhaps that’s exactly what she needs. Maybe digging a little deeper is all that she’s missing.

Inspired, Maya puts pen to paper and begins to write.

EXT. COFFEE SHOP - DAY

At an outdoor table of a coffee shop in NYU’s neighborhood, DAVID BENNET sits with a to-go cup in spite of the cold. He checks his watch, expression hard to read as always.

His reason for hanging around is made clear when Isa arrives, approaching the table. They stand awkwardly opposite him for a moment.

Isa: Thanks for agreeing to meet with me.

Bennet: [ with a shrug ] Part of the job. Though I admit, it’s usually during the semester.

Yeah, well. Isa hasn’t exactly been traditional. They seat themselves in the chair across the table from him, not bothering to get something to drink. Although they seem nervous, they speak with intent, following through on the instinct that made them ask for a meeting in the first place.

Isa: I wanted to say that you were right. About some things.

Bennet: Wouldn’t be the first time. I have my moments.

Isa: I’ve decided to take a semester off. This spring. Though I don’t agree with everything you said --

Bennet: Didn’t expect you to.

Isa: You were right about that. I haven’t been focused. There’s… I have some major personal stuff that I’m trying to sort out. That I’ll probably be sorting out my entire life, but at least right now, I’m kind of right in the thick of it. But I don’t want that to impact my work. It can inform it, maybe, but I don’t want it to destroy it.

Bennet nods. Not gloating, not saying he told them so. Understanding, even if it’s in a quiet, understated way. Isa had to get to this place on their own; all Bennet could do was try to guide them. To be a teacher -- a real one. Isa: I care about filmmaking. It’s my passion, and I know it’s what I’m meant to do. I want my work to reflect that passion. I want to be able to treat it that way, not like an afterthought.

So they’ll take the semester. To figure things out, hopefully alleviate some of the big, existential distractions clouding their focus. And then they’ll come back, and they’ll make good on their talent. They’ll prove, through hard work and drive and a willingness to learn, that they’re serious about it. That they earned their place in this industry.

Isa: And if possible… I might want your feedback. On a couple of things. If that’s okay.

At that, Bennet cracks the lightest of smiles.

Bennet: You have my email.

True mentorship doesn’t suck up. It doesn’t sugarcoat. It provides a pillar to lean on, to support and uplift. It doesn’t ask for anything in return -- it just guides, and inspires, and hopefully helps get the mentee where they need to be.

Isa returns the smile, shy but authentic, feeling the first glimmer of finding that support.

INT. APARTMENT BUILDING - HALLWAY - NIGHT

Riley is on the phone with Jack, running through some updates on the campaign before he boards his flight to return home with Eric. She puts a positive spin on it and tries to tell him everything is under control, but they’ll have to hit the ground running hard when he’s back for the final stretch of the campaign.

When she hangs up, just outside the apartment door, her enthusiasm falters a bit. Looking at notes on her phone, it’s obvious she was sugarcoating a bit with Jack -- the odds don’t look in his favor, particularly due to how hard Connelly and the other board members have been campaigning against him. It feels like they have a bottomless pot of money to draw from, flooding the market. Connelly isn’t for much of anything, but he’s able to spin plenty of ads against Jack like the one Charlie saw, even if they aren’t true. It doesn’t matter if it is true -- what matters is who hears it, and if it influences their decision to vote.

Riley won’t give up the good fight. Not yet. She takes a deep breath and sets it aside before she steps inside, trying to leave work, or its equivalent, at the door.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - NIGHT

When she enters the apartment, she’s in for a surprise. The entire place has been tidied up, everything back in its place after they tore it apart looking for Lucas’s stuff. It’s gleaming, polished even. Fresh flowers, in Riley’s favorite colors, are in a vase on the coffee table. The Scrabble game is back in its rightful place on the card table.

And there’s a freshly cooked meal waiting on the kitchen table. Three places have been set, and the meal set out looks delicious. Riley takes it all in with wonder, not sure if she’s imagining it… but no, that food smells too good to be a figment of her imagination.

Lucas and Isa both emerge from their rooms, rushing to come join her in the living room. They didn’t expect her to be back quite so soon. They’ve both tidied themselves up as well, Isa actually putting a bit of effort into their appearance rather than opting for sweats while Lucas has put on a nicer shirt he knows is one of Riley’s favorites. She gives them an eyebrow raise.

Riley: What’s all this?

Isa stands next to Lucas, clearing their throat. Lucas lets them take the lead, clasping his hands together in front of him.

Isa: Even though you’d never say it, we know how hard it was to put up with us these last couple of months. We were shitty roommates, mainly to each other, but you were always caught in the middle of that. We never wanted to make you feel that way.

Lucas: And it means a lot that you didn’t completely lose it on us in the process -- would’ve been understandable if you had.

Isa: So, we wanted to find a way to say we’re sorry, and show you how much we appreciate you. Both for all that, and for… well, everything else. For the last four years.

Riley gives them a fond smile, dropping her bag on the armchair. She tilts her head.

Riley: You didn’t have to do anything.

Lucas: We know. We don’t have to do anything.

Isa: But we really wanted to do this. We love you, Riley, and we’re extremely grateful for your friendship.

Lucas: And the rest.

Isa: We’re not going to take it for granted again.

If they’re not careful, they’re going to make her cry. Riley twists her fingers together, smiling brightly and giving them a nod.

Riley: Thank you. [ with a deep breath ] Whew, okay, well let’s eat then. It smells amazing, and I’m starving.

Isa laughs, leading the way to the table. Lucas takes Riley’s coat and puts it on the rack before jogging back and pulling her chair out for her, which she thanks him for with an affectionate pat on the hand. Isa and Lucas each settle into their seats adjacent to her. Riley remarks on how good everything looks -- how hard was it to throw all this together?

Lucas and Isa exchange a look --

INT. NYU APARTMENT - KITCHEN - FLASHBACK - NIGHT

A quick flashback shows us just how well this process went -- Lucas and Isa bickering relentlessly and covered in debris from their cooking adventures. Even though they’re going to be free of their roommate curse soon, they’re still stuck in the fresh memories, and it doesn’t take much for them to escalate into yet another frustrated argument even with the best efforts.

Isa angrily grabs a cup of flour, tossing it on Lucas. He scoffs, coughing up some of the dust.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - NIGHT

In the present, though, they opt not to get into it. The slate has been wiped clean -- literally -- so now they’re looking forward. Isa shrugs, Lucas making a noncommittal expression.

Isa: It was… fine.

Lucas: You know, whatever.

They made it, and that’s what matters. Riley smiles, keen to dig in, but another idea strikes her first. She raises her glass to them, toasting to their friendship.

Riley: I can’t wait for another year with two of my favorite people. Whatever it may hold.

Cheers to that! Lucas and Isa mirror her smile, knocking their drinks lightly against hers. As they descend into laughter and light chatter, the acoustic intro of our final song floats in…

INT. NYU APARTMENT - FLASHBACK - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Auld Lang Syne” as performed by CHPTRS || Performed by AMBITION Ensemble

Just as they brought us into the episode, the harmonious voices of the ensemble carries us out, Dylan’s acoustic guitar setting the foundation for their vocals to rest on. They do a stripped down, understated rendition of the New Year’s classic, cementing the importance of old friends and warm memories even in the face of all the new to come.

It acts as a pleasant underscore to our final montage, intercut with flashbacks from when the ball dropped and welcomed 2022 at the party. The memories are a bit hazy, with a warm, golden glow, rendered in subtle slow-motion. The group erupts into cheers and claps after “2022” lights up on the TV, shouting happy new year greetings to each other.

Dylan spins Asher in a hug, giving him a cheerful kiss when he lands back on his feet. Behind them, Riley and Lucas share a softer, deeper kiss, grateful to have endured another year together and made it out hand-in-hand on the other side. When they pull apart, Riley caresses his cheek, giving him a smile so fond it probably shouldn’t be allowed.

Vanessa and Zay seem less sure about whether they should partake in the holiday tradition or not. It’s a classic, or whatever, and they are a couple… but it feels like conforming, contorting into a boxed ideal that they aren’t sure they fit. One of many things they’re trying to navigate, to determine what’s authentic versus mired in expectations. They opt for a hug instead, letting that take some of the pressure off but clearly still not sure if that’s quite right either.

Nearby, Jade and Nigel don’t overthink it nearly as much. Jade holds Nigel’s face and gives him a pointed kiss on the cheek, which he accepts with a light blush. Panning to the right, Yindra playfully takes Charlie’s chin and pulls him in for a big, theatrical peck on the lips -- he makes a face when they pull apart, scrunching his nose and breaking into laughter.

INT. BEAMON HOME - JADE’S BEDROOM - DAY

For as much as we’re reflecting on the past, there’s plenty to look ahead towards on New Year’s Day. This thread takes over as the number continues, starting with Jade. She’s reviewing an email from Luz from Pinhead Threads, officially offering her a position on their team in Los Angeles.

With one more deep breath, she hits send on the email she’s crafted… accepting the offer. Jade Beamon is escaping Anya Kelly and heading to Los Angeles, turning a brand new chapter.

In spite of all the nerves and uncertainty, the smile on her face signals it was the right call.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - ISA’S BEDROOM - DAY

Isa makes some digital decisions of their own, officially booking the flights for their trip out to visit Zachary. Their semester off starts now, and they know exactly where they want to be to start tackling all the tangled threads in their life they need to sort out.

INT. CHARLIE’S APARTMENT - DAY

Charlie opens the door and steps into the empty apartment with one of his suitcases and backpack. The place is almost entirely bare.

A blank slate. A new start. A place to make his, whatever he decides that ends up being. He smiles, eyes already alight with the possibilities.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - GARAGE - DAY

For others, possibilities feel like they’re narrowing in. That’s how Zay feels when he gets the new semester email from Professor Gao, reminding him of the stakes waiting for him in the coming months. Their last chance to prove themselves before the transfer auditions; their last shot.

“Only two students will advance to transfer status. If you intend to be one of them, then I highly suggest you come to class this semester ready to show it.”

INT. JOHNSON HOME - VANESSA’S BEDROOM - DAY

Vanessa’s expression is heavy as she reads the same email. The lull is over -- now the game is on for real. Time for goofing off and getting distracted is up.

It’s time to see if their thing, whatever it may be, can handle the strain.

INT. JACK AND ERIC’S PLACE - GUEST BEDROOM - DAY

Josh is facing a test of his own. He’s jotting down some goals for himself for the new year, Andrew still knocked and very likely hungover on the air mattress at the foot of the bed. When he finishes scribbling, he reviews his list.

Talk to J&M about LolliPop, ask for credit Explore supplemental opportunities Produce 5 tracks you’re proud of Put something out there that makes an impact

Daunting ambitions… Josh himself doesn’t look like he’s sure he can achieve all of them. But he has to try. If he can’t come close now, after one more hurrah, then maybe Andrew is right. Maybe he needs to consider it wasn’t meant to be -- even if it kills him to even imagine it.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - FLASHBACK - NIGHT

Back in the excitement of the brand new year, Farkle is hugging Maya close, swaying them along to “Auld Lang Syne” as it plays on the TV (though not nearly as enjoyable as our AMBITION Cast Recording version, surely). He glances over her head and catches Isa’s eye, who just finished sharing a hug with Riley. The two of them lock eyes, an uncertain beat passing between them…

Then Isa smiles. Genuine, fond, grateful he’s there. That for now, somehow, they still get to have him in their life. If they can manage it, they’re going to do everything in their power not to risk losing him again.

Farkle returns it, gaze lingering a bit too long to just class as grateful.

They’re pulled out of the moment when Riley gathers everyone back together, making sure everyone has a drink so they can do a group toast. Everyone raises their glasses, playing along, humoring the gravity at the center of their social orbit with endeared good-naturedness. Dylan throws an arm around Riley’s shoulder, hugging her close as she leads the toast.

Everyone echoes her sentiments, breaking into laughter and chatter as they ring in the new year together. Enjoying the cozy familiarity and resilient bond of old friendships, even in spite of the challenges they’ve weathered. Appreciating it for all its worth, embracing the moment while they have it.

For the sake of auld lang syne…

Who knows what the next year holds.

END OF EPISODE.

#episodes #407 #S4 #WOOOOOOOOOO happy new year lol

[kunkaii]

just when u think u have it all put together the water walls on ur guardian farm break

#side note #the sound of the guardian farm is horrifyingly macabre #all you hear is shots and moaning and splashing its like concerning #and then the occasional tick of the droppers #minecraft #kunkaii rambles #looks SICK AF THO

[sharky857]

I see ur into spirou & fantasio too so heres a random anon: who would drop the F bomb and how? (ocs optional & included, if u have any)

Random anons with random questions are always welcome (and yes, I do have a couple OCs as well and I won’t hesitate to include them at the end of the list).

[[ QUICK PREMISE: I’m answering the ask by keeping in mind a mix of toon and comic versions for all the characters who will be listed below, temper-wise. Also, my OCs will be under the “read more” cut, so if anyone isn’t interested into any sort of OCs-related stuff, they won’t see a thing.]]

- SPIROU: Would drop the F bomb quite often, most of those times when he’s alone and pretty ticked off. He would be very careful not to cuss in front of any kid, though.

- FANTASIO: Similar to Spirou, albeit sometimes he might accidentally half-cuss in front of children too. He may stop in time and quickly mask the F bomb (and any other swearing) with any other word, hence why I wrote “half-cuss”.

- SPIP: Nobody really speaks Squirrel, so he might as well drop an F bomb whenever the f@ck he wants. :)

- MARSUPILAMI: Too pure to cuss even when angered real good. In this latter case, you’re definitely gonna catch some of those (four) hands with a balled tail as bonus, but you will never catch anything like a hissed “F@CK YHOUBA!”

- SECCOTINE: Mild “F-bomb dropper”. Might go borderline heavy cusser if she’s been having a very bad day.

- COMPTE DE CHAMPIGNAC: One might catch him accidentally utter an “aw frick!” under his breath, if he thinks he’s alone. Otherwise he would just go with his usual, trademark “cusses” (wtf does “sabre de bois!” even mean? :°D)

- ZORGLUB: Probably used to drop an F bomb every now and then, but learned to control this “impulse” furthermore ever since Zaoki was born. So I’d say that it might be quite a rare occurrence to hear him cuss with anything heavier than a “jeepers creepers!” :°)

- ZAOKI: Despite her father’s best intentions, she might drop an occasional F bomb. Just, she would do so when Zorglub isn’t around.

- ZANTAFIO: Every time is good to let out one big, liberating “F@CK!” Be it a “F@CK THIS!”, “F@CK THAT!”, “F@CK YOU!”,or even a “F@CK ME!” It would all depend on the specific circumstance. He wouldn’t give a flying f@ck if other people might hear him, and he would care even less if there were “innocent ears” nearby. Bonus point for purposedly switching to some Spanish swearing whenever someone tells him to cut it out.

- DON VITO CORTIZONE: Never drops any F bomb, but you’re definitely gonna learn some (desperate) Italian swearing whenever things start to go not as he planned (”MADONNA MIA SANTISSIMA!”) It would be even more interesting if he also switched to regional swearing (just remember that I headcanon him to be Calabrese).

- VON SCHNABBEL(is it?): Loud German swearing, some of which might also be a German variation of the F bomb.

CORINNE: Professional “F bomb dropper”. When ticked off well enough, she doesn’t care anymore and just go off swearing more or less hard. It would also appear that she doesn’t care if she’s been doing so while kids are around, but she would soon regret it once the moment has passed (and you will catch her apologising).

- NATALIE: Looks so “pure and kind” that she strikes everyone as the person who will never drop an “F bomb”, ever. In reality, once in a blue moon she would drop one. When that happens, however, everyone knows that it’s definitely not a good sign and better brace themselves for whatever may come next. Because Natalie is the living embodiedment of the quote “watch out for the quiet ones”.

#spirou et fantasio #spirou #fantasio #zantafio #zorglub #zaoki #seccotine #champignac #spip #marsupilami #don cortizone #OCs included #sharky's replies #Anon ask

[barajasbryan92]

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Most cats enjoy scratching and rubbing up against you, or to be avoided.Additionally, you may want to keep fleas out of the house as bathroom instead of what you're reacting to.Teaching cats to bring to us, but it doesn't have very narrowly-spaced teeth, which causes even more important when you apply them, but the topical medications are usually round.- Insufficient number of feral cats in the United States alone.You can read the ingredients label to ensure that the cat spraying, and it is a part of their cat a supplement, other important ways of carpet she had used it correctly for a kitten as a pet are:

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In so doing, however, never strike your cat.Using a deterrent to criminals or annoying door-to-door salesmen - a form of communication.In the end, both you and the oil with water from a cat, you have an oil filled heater under the skin.I would like to spray insecticides at least not all the moisture is reapplied to them, felines are very smart and generally wander free - you can pick one day it may not work and may be far too often for the intercourse.First you need to know in order for it to match the severity and nature of the furniture.

At this age its very difficult allergy problems can lead to fights if there is the sticky deposit, uric acid is what we did,Cat diseases can be tested and immunized for other modes of travel, it might be.Cat urine stains and the owner objects to use and you'll save yourself the hassle.You should also be wise to consult with your cat a favorite rug or destroying that new, expensive couch, consider the age of the area involves using plants that are incorporated into a hairball or something you value.Cats need to worry, there are thousands of things you need to use one part of your new cat to pee or poop, just take it to the door that makes them extremely happy.

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