#it feels like a direct spotlight is shining through my window

[obscurehistoricalinterests]

- moonlit nights -

#moonlight #tonight is insane #it feels like a direct spotlight is shining through my window #dreamy #I could stare #forever

[fluffyanon]

Evening Walk

A/N - Some of these Hazbin fics are from my Wattpad. Though some things may have been added or removed since these are fairly old.

Established relationship, 2p!Alastor x Reader, Fem!reader

Synopsis: After your body refused to fall asleep, you get up and take a late night stroll in the park where you find 2p!Alastor being harassed by a fellow sinner.

You had a long day, and you were ready for bed. But apparently your body wasn't, it didn't want to relax enough for you to fall asleep. You were tossing and turning on your bed for hours.

Finally giving up after a while, you sat up on your bed and heaved a sigh, looking out in the dimly lit room, the only light source being the window above your bed. It was quiet, the dark red tint of the sky colored the drapes on your window.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you put on a pair of pants and a baggy hoodie, not caring much of your appearance outside at this hour. You headed out of your hotel room, while slipping on some shoes.

When you made it to the lobby, it was dark, besides the dim light shining through the windows leaving spotlights on the floor. You heard a bit of snoring in the direction of the small living room. Assuming that Husk fell asleep on the couch again, you tip-toed out of the hotel.

The cool air greeted you kindly and you sighed, enjoying the feeling. The cool midnight air was a nice feeling compared to how stuffy the hotel can be sometimes.

You decided to make your way to a nearby park, no one really goes to it this late at night, so you shouldn't be bothered too much while you try to relax. Sometimes you were grateful about the placement of the Hazbin Hotel, everything seemed to be a walking distance away if you just want necessities or a simple stroll.

As you were walking on the dirty path through the park, you started hearing some voices in the distance. When you got closer, it sounded like someone was arguing. You didn't pay any mind to it, until you heard a familiar voice.

"I-I'm s-sorry sir, I didn't mean to get in your way..." It was Al. And he looked terrified of the angry demon in front of him, who continued to yell at the poor deer.

"Didn't mean too? Yous bumped inta' me!" The angry one was short and kind of round. He looked like a failed mob boss with the outfit he was wearing. It looked worn and unkempt. And his failed Boston accent didn't help, Angel would have a blast making fun of him.

"What's happening?" You approached the two, getting ready to defend Al. The situation was probably a misunderstanding, knowing how Al can be. But this demon didn't care. He up at you, his face was turning red with anger. It almost got you to laugh in his face. He looked like a red pig.

"This blue twig walked inta' me while I was takin' a stroll! Can ya' believes it?" The fat sinner said. He looked smug, like he just won. And quite frankly, that pissed you off a bit.

You tapped your finger on your cheek, pretending that you were in thought. Al looked at you worriedly, like you were going to be on the strangers side.

"I can believe it, he's a klutz, and this is hell. Which means I can deck you in the face, or just push you over and watch you roll like a pig to get back up. Which do ya want?" You said while crossing your arms and giving him a toothy grin.

His face got even redder and he started spouting profanities and you laughed as he walked away. Al attempted to laugh with you but it sounded more awkward and nervous. He was just relieved that you arrived.

Al walked over to you and wrapped his arms around you, bringing you into a hug as he nuzzled his face in your neck. You reached up and softly pet his hair. He relaxed a bit, sighing.

"Are you okay?" You asked him, pulling away slightly so you could see his face. His ears were leaning back and tears threaten to spill from his big eyes. Taking the cuff of your sleeve, you wiped the tears away and smiled at him. He sniffed slightly and gave the smallest smile and nodded, leaning against your hand

"I-I'll be fine, thank you for helping me..." He softly said before hugging you. You hugged back and reassured him that whenever he needs help, just call you. He nodded and apologized again.

"Let's go back to the hotel, shall we?" You said, looking at his pouty face. You were getting tired now, and wouldn't mind some cuddles with your favorite deer.

He nodded, "Yes, that sounds like a great idea." Truthfully, he just wanted to be alone with you, away from everyone else. He held your hand as you both walked back to the hotel, mostly in comfortable silence.

Once you both got back to your hotel room, the rest of the night was spent cuddled up together, reassuring him that everything was okay before drifting off to sleep with him wrapped in your arms.

#2p alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin x reader #2p alastor x reader #x reader #fanfic #fluff #alastor #female reader

[bbq-hawks-wings]

Chapter 316: BBQ is capable of critiquing BNHA and… Oh boy.

Let's start this off properly, Horikoshi's typical quality of writing has been diminishing in recent chapters, but this week it was so different that it didn't even feel like Horikoshi was the one who wrote it.

To be clear, I'm not blaming Horikoshi for the issues I'm about to bring up. The man is criminally overworked, usually doesn't even get the final say in what makes it in the final drafts, and even in his other rough patches he's still produced decent chapters that hold up amongst the grand scheme of things. This feels like something else is going on behind the scenes, and while I have my suspicions on who/what might be the culprit behind it, I choose not to share it at this time because if I name names some people might go off on a crusade, and that's not what I want.

I just want to be clear that I'm not blindly firing off shots in the dark, but despite my frustrations I want to wait to see if this gets resolved down the line, and while I do I can complain about the specific reasons this chapter left such a bitter taste in my mouth.

Buckle up, buttercups, because we got a lot of points to cover.

Where's the Gun?

Not a literal gun, but I mean Chekhov's Gun. It has always been a staple of Horikoshi's writing and the reason so many of his long-standing plot lines have paid off so well.

Chekhov's Gun is a writing principal that if you see a gun on the table in the first act of a play, it will be used in the murder that happens in act 2. Basically, the author should include details that are relevant to the story and not betray the audience by leading them in one direction and at the last minute pull the rug out from underneath them to go in another direction.

Horikoshi has done this to phenomenal success in the past. Just as one example, he dropped hints about Nomu being human experiments early in the series but held off explicitly stating it for a while. He hinted at the loss of Shirakumo in the main narrative and that he was important to Aizawa and Mic as well as approved it for Vigilantes so when it was revealed that Kurogiri was Shirakumo's body, not only did it narratively make sense but it also pulled in Eraserhead and Present Mic's emotional stakes into the battle with the Doctor, and then when Ujiko reveals he was after Aizawa's quirk the whole time it made the payoff for Mic punching him in the face all that much better and brings the weight of his crimes and the impact they have on the victims full circle.

That's 3 different guns paying off in the long run: the Nomu, Shirakumo, and both Mic and Eraserheads' personal arcs past the loss of their childhood friend and that they could finally finish processing their grief and avenge him in full righteous fury instead of chalking it all up to cruel chance.

He has left details, some particularly innocuously, in plot lines like the Touya Todoroki reveal, Hawks' backstory, Shigaraki's blood connection to Nana Shimura, even with Mr. Compress's backstory, and more. When re-read, these details become more obvious and usually leaves us with a greater sense of satisfaction in the plot knowing that twists and turns were not only planned, but built up to and hinted at for us to find so the payoff is that much better and it feels purposeful instead of just shock factor.

None of that happened this chapter.

Lady Nagant has zero business being in this plotline. She was never hinted about before this arc, and her existence does nothing to tell us about the plot moving forward or the world that they're trying to change. Nothing her existence provides actually has any bearing on the universe or tells us anything we don't already know. But that's not how she was presented.

In the beginning we're given a glimpse of her helping Overhaul escape from Tartarus. The focus on her was odd enough to begin with as a new character, and the fact that she didn't look like she fit the profile of someone who belonged in Tartarus was like a flashing neon sign saying, "Pay attention! This new character is important!!!" She then shows up later with Overhaul in hand to attack Deku out of the blue. We get her talking about how she thought Overhaul might be useful and her disillusions with Hero Society. We catch her mannerisms with eery similarity to Hawks only to find out immediately after she was a senior colleague in the HPSC. Never once to my knowledge has Hawks referred to any of his senior colleagues as a "senpai" - not even his fellow heroes - and when he catches her in midair, he uses the words, "Don't die on me, senpai!" as if she's near and dear to his heart.

The entire character arc is set up for her to have known about Hawks and grapple with her desire to help people and her fear of re-creating what she hated, and this also set up Hawks to be the successor who succeeded where she failed and helped bring her to a place where she could be a hero without guilt again. What actually happened?

They're strangers.

They have never actually met before, and while he seems to know a lot about her, she doesn't even seem to have any idea of who he was - at least as far as being another hero under the thumb of the HPSC. So ALLLL that setup, all that gesturing, and all of the potential themes that would be right at home in an arc like this goes completely out the window.

Her story doesn't tell us anything new. The HPSC bad. We knew that. They're not above throwing innocents under the bus to achieve that goal. We knew that. They preyed upon young hopefuls with powerful quirks with the intent to maintain the status quo. We knew that even if the fact that Hawks isn't the only one now makes more questions than answers. We know that these young heroes can never say no under threat of steep, life-shattering consequences. We knew that already.

So what does Lady Nagant even bring to the table?! The entire "you're just a puppet doing what you've been told" angle is a little tired and out of place in this point and time with actual anarchy in the streets (not to mention hypocritical considering she was a blind puppet following orders and offers zero actual solutions that supposedly fall in line with her heroic nature), and it could have been left to any number of other villain characters who could have executed on the theme better - you know, like Shigaraki who's justification this entire time has been, "hero society doesn't make people safe, it just makes them feel safe" from the moment of his inception.

So from that angle she's unnecessary.

Her presence messes with the continuity of the series as well. If Hawks is supposed to explicitly replace her, that would mean that he wasn't just a fluke find on the commission's part and grabbed to mold into their own special superweapon; and that also would mean that her killing of the former president was before he was discovered which should put her at least in her forties. If this isn't the case, and he was meant to simply replace her in a "special agent" case, that still begs the question of how many more gifted children the commission preyed upon and are still out there.

And maybe the worst kicker for me is that something stinks. The way the art in this chapter is presented, if you completely blanked out the speech bubbles, is the same setup I had before - Hawks reaches out to his former mentor and pulls her from the brink of despair with a moving message about why he never gave up hope in being a hero who could actually make a difference.

Again, this is not what we got. He claims he knows her, and it's implied to have been a deep, personal character witness; but at best he only knows about her from secondhand sources. Even his reasoning as to how he never lost hope doesn't vibe with his character.

We have gotten so many cool one-liners for Hawks, but there has always been a consistent tone and imagery with them.

"Those who can fly, should."

"I don't belong in a cage."

"I'm free of my shackles."

"Can I be a shining light, just like him?"

What we got was, "I'm an optimist to a fault" which was the wording the official release went with and was by far the best iteration I have seen, but even this falls short of being truly in character for him and answering her question properly.

@mikeana made an edit of the titular panels for us Hawks stans this week with dialogue we and a few other friends felt was more fitting not only with the imagery of the chapter itself but internally consistent with the specific expressions Hawks uses in his heartfelt, personal dialogue. I just tweaked it a little bit more to fit what I was going for in our original conversation.

Which brings me to another concern.

2. What's the point?

There was no use for Nagant in the series as she's been presented so far. But more than that, Hawks has no business in this fight to begin with. He literally did nothing to earn this emotional moment, and this should have been Deku's moment.

We were teased in an interview with Horikoshi that Hawks was going to get a special moment as an important end-game character as a "shining light" of hope for others to follow as well as promises for Ochako to have another moment in the spotlight to make a difference.

If this was Hawks' shining light moment, it wasn't necessary, and it does nothing to move the plot forward or develop characters in any true or believable way. It just happened because plot. This should have been Deku's victory through and through, and even he is the reason BOTH Hawks and Nagant made it out alive instead of painting the street below them.

Deku's victory was stolen from him, too. It sours the other promises made to us about other characters moving forward, as well, if this really was Hawks' "Shining Light" moment.

By the way, did you forget about Overhaul? Me too!!! What was the point of getting our hopes up about reintroducing this beloved character with the implications this was a major arc setup to have him scream about pops and then get detained with no clues about what's going to happen to him besides, "Say you're sorry to Eri, and you get to see pops"?!

All this posturing and clumsy narrative flailing only actually succeeded in getting Deku in front of AFO again for plot when we already know Mr. Potato Head could summon, show himself to, or find Deku at any time he wanted. But instead we get this time skip with a bunch of heroes completely mended walking into a big, spooky mansion for AFO to evil monologue at Deku for… *counts*

FOUR PAGES!!!

Only to then give him the "I want YOU!" point over a pre-recorded message and the final nail in the coffin to me that something is off.

3. Ex-pu-LOOOO-SHUN!

It's become almost a game among friends to count how many explosions have happened since the end of the war arc - and specifically fake-out explosions. In the end of 311 we get All Might's car attacked via explosion and Deku cornered by Nagant only for All Might to be fine in the next chapter. In 315 Lady Nagant herself explodes in a blaze of glory to once again not be dead.

Gee! I wOnDeR if aLl the heroes were AcTuAlLy cornered and KiLlEd in that explosion in the mansion!

None of us do. They're fine. We're going to see it first thing next week. The shock has worn off, and it's repetitive and annoying at this point. There is no cliffhanger despite how the framing might try to tell you otherwise.

It's BAD WRITING.

The writing has been moving far too quickly and clumsily with no explanation in sight, and even character interactions are being cut short to the point of them being meaningless and empty.

This doesn't even feel like Horikoshi's bad writing. It feels like someone else is trying to call the shots and rushing him through these final bits of the series, and he's run out of things he's previously set up for months and months to reappear so someone is trying to get Dabi-reveal levels of attention with arcs and storylines that don't have the build-up to result in a satisfactory payoff.

4. At least it can get better... I hope.

Maybe those who share my suspicions or know what particular suspicions I have are with me in believing that this is a temporary disappointment and we haven't seen the last of the writing that's captivated me for years. I don't blame Horikoshi for these glaring faults that all came to a head in this chapter.

It CAN get better later, and I think it WILL- we just probably are going to have to wait for it. Until then, I'm going to enjoy the Hawks panels we got, maybe edit the last few chapters to be more in line with something more like the BNHA I know in a "fix it fic" fashion so I don't groan in anticipation of how long it might take us to get there.

See you all next week, hopefully on a much brighter note.

#she speaks #chapter review #bnha 316 #bnha chapter 316 #bnha manga spoilers

[victorianoruben]

Unstoppable Desire

Pairing: Ruvik X F!Reader

Warning: Masturbation, Dirty Imaginations

Summary: Ruben caught himself of having fantasies of Y/N and him in his head which lead him to an unknown feeling.

Words: 1,600

Note: Beta-read by @bruhvik​

"You can be such a lovely person, Ruben, you just haven’t realized it yet"

This made him shake his head with a chuckle, "Oh (Y/N), I don't know if you're either blind or just in love with a monster, my dear."

When he saw her reaching her arms out for him, offering a hug, he widened his eyes in surprise. But who would he be if it weren’t for accepting this offer

Ruben graved for affection and acceptance all his life. It had been years since he felt so close to someone, his sister. When she brushed her warm hand over his naked back which just got free of his bandages, he took a deep breath, leaning into her touch completely; enjoying this moment.

He felt his heartbeat starting to rise rapidly. This feeling wasn't familiar for him.

"Relax, it's okey. Stop judging your appearance all over again", she looked up at him when she let him go of their hug. How she expected, he looked in another direction with squinted eyes. She bit her bottom lip and it made her sigh, "No - no, I know that expression! I know what's going on in your mind again. Listen to me just for once!"

The scarred man rolled his eyes and felt his cheeks starting to heat up when looking at her. Oh how much he hated how submissive, innocent and shy he may look there. This isn't his personality and nature. He pressed his lips a bit together and finally glanced over her.

"I know it's because of your scars again. That you might think I would find you ugly and hide this opinion. I still have no freaking idea how you would come up with that thought again. How many times do I need to prove you the opposite of it? Your scars can tell the story by  themselves and they make your personality and view so much stronger. You're unique in your own way! When I first met you, I already was fascinated by your presence ... and I thought", she took a breath with a smirk, "Phew, that guy is so sexy, damn! And I-"

Ruben shrugged out of his daydream and rubbed his forehead while groaning. By sliding down his blanket, he noticed sweat drops on his body. It felt like he was just sitting in a whirlpool or sauna.

He was such a dumb fool. What was he even thinking? Despite the fact that Y/N would never just spit out so many compliments and fall into his arms so suddenly. She wasn't that type of person, way too stubborn as well. Also, he  wasn’t the person who would melt so quickly for a woman. There was just one girl whom he fully trusted and who understood him: Laura. Any girl could just try to get him around her fingers and he wouldn't allow that. But when he remembered the time he spent together with Y/N, he kind of felt safe and calm in her presence. Not at their first meeting but after some small-talks, her offer to help him, he started to trust her a bit more. He hated to admit but she actually brightened his day sometimes. She had such a caring heart when it came to ’his’ patients or listening to Ruben whenever he had a bad day, raging about mistakes in the machine. But he still didn't tell her his full past yet. It was still way too private to just tell her all the informations. Deep down in his heart, he was always looking forward to the next day to meet her in his laboratory. It never seemed like his appearance bothered her or that she judged him ... well except at their first meeting when she saw his experiments.  Neither of them could have imagined becoming 'friends' one day ....

Ruben tried to relax again and close his eyes but the thoughts and daydreams hit him like a brick. In front of him, he saw her admirable body and imagined the smell of her favorite perfume.

He leaned his head back on his bed and moved his hands over his chest, down to his stomach,  to the area where he didn't have any burns. At least he was able to feel a bit but the building heat in him was way stronger anyways. The thought of her fingers stroking slightly over his skin was enough for him.

"You really want me to prove it, don't you?", she whispered in his ear, "I know that you have something in your mind right now. Tell me ... what do you want to do with me really?"

She kissed him gently and slowly on his rough lips while traveling with her fingers over his chest.

"I've never seen you so nervous before, Ruben. This intelligent scientist really does have a soft heart deep down but he doesn't like to admit it. But he also hates to get submissive all out of a sudden, am I right?

What has gotten into you?"

When he caught himself letting out a quiet but noticeable moan, he opened his eyes.

How could he be so sensitive already?

Was he graving that badly to get touched and admired?

But that didn't matter to him for that moment anymore, the wave of heat was starting to take control over him.

He imagined how he’d quickly bend her into the bed to show his true nature. His ego  wouldn’t allow to represent him like a whiney puppy graving for her attention.

"Oh my dear, be careful, you seem of not knowing what's going on in my mind. You really thought I would literally cry and beg for you to touch me? Just because I haven’t touched anyone yet? You've thought that, haven’t you?", he sounded like he was almost out of breath just due to his adrenaline.

He stroked her thighs playfully, his grip went more firm after seconds. Ruben watched her closing her eyes in pleasure with an opened mouth.

"I asked you something, sunflower!", he  moved dangerously to her private parts.

" - I'm sorry - No, I didn’t think that. Really!", she almost whimpered desperately because of getting touched.

Ruben felt how his distressed pants got more and more thight. He rarely had the need of pleasuring himself if at all. This time he couldn't hold himself back., He slowly stroked himself, hand disappearing in his pants, taking his rough textured pen*s out of it. He gave it a few strokes on the shaft; one of the only parts left on his body which weren't totally numb. Oh, and how sensitive he was there!

"You're lying to me", he shook his head in amusement and drew circles over your now exposed panties, "You really dare to lie to me though you know that I can read expressions almost perfectly?"

"I - I just wanted to make you feel good and -"

He bent down to her and gave her a kiss on her lips with a chuckle, "Oh, I know that very well."

Ruben stroke up from the base of his cock, which was covered with some veins, with a tighter grip down to his tip. When he focused on the soft tip, he went a bit gentle and teased it with one finger.

His imagination skipped a bit forward, leaving out the foreplay.

„Are you sure you wanna do this now, princess?", he stared down at her in a missionary pose. He already lined up his cock to her entrance and teased her hole with it.

"With you, absolutely! Just stop the tease now, ... please!", she took a deep breath and looked at him when he entered her slowly.

He took his average sized member entirely in his hand, pretending like it would be in her slit. Ruben pumped it with smooth movements and he let out some moans here and there.

He was alone in his huge mansion anyways. The full moon did shine straight through his window down to his bed as if he  was in spotlight. Everything was playing around him and about his pleasure right now.

Ruben was fully concentrating on pictures of a naked Y/N, whom he owned in his act. How she would praise his name all over again, filling him with deep kisses , changing positions to experiment of getting deeper.

By speeding up the pace and tightening his grip, he felt how something was building up in his lower regions.

He breathleassy slipped out her name by accident (which he would be truly ashamed of later).

To reach his orgasm, he played with his tip, this time using his other hand. It didn't take him much to release his seed on his pants. It was more than he ever released before, during his previous sessions where he didn't have any naughty fantasies about a specific person.

The afterwave took his sharp eyesight for a while. He couldn’t control his breath, nor his awareness. It didn’t take him much to pass out. He did build way too much adrenaline which his body couldn’t handle very well. He was literally on his limits with his body. Being so exhausted, he didn’t have the time to think and reflect on his sinful thoughts. So, with shaking hands, he slipped out of his dirty pants and threw it on the floor before closing his eyes to fall asleep immediately

#ruvik #ruvik x reader #ruben victoriano #tew #the evil within #ruben victoriano x reader

[marshmallow-phd]

Gravity

Genre: Angst, Unrequited Love

Pairing: Junmyeon x Reader

A/N: This was basically just a therapy write. 

**

What is worth? It is neither tangible nor seeable. It doesn’t have a body or a shell. Yet, the endless chase to catch it, to hold it captive, is a never ending disease that eats away at the brain and tears apart the heart. It’s only descriptor is feeling. A judgement. Something either is or isn’t. When it's an object in question, the call for worth is passive, innocent. It’s wanted or it's not. The deterioration comes into play when the worth is applied to a person. 

Kim Junmyeon was worth the world. 

With a smile that could chase away a storm and a heart too good and pure for the human populace, he was truly worth more than the world. He was worth more than you deserved. 

Not only was his face kind, but it was handsome. Beautiful, even. Candid photos were museum worthy masterpieces. There was a gentleness, a softness to his eyes and cheeks that contradicted the sharpness of his jaw and the strength of his body. His laugh was infectious and his mind as vast and deep as the ocean. The sum of his whole was worth so much. 

But you were not worthy of such a person. You weren’t as stunning as a sunset over the mountains or as extraordinary as a new discovery. You were simply… you. Staring from afar, admiring but never touching. 

You wished you could be worthy. You wished you could be special enough - good enough to be with him. Pretty enough would be something decent to settle for. But you were invisible. A person on the sidelines. Out of the spotlight. You were an admirer - not one to be admired. 

“You’re doing it again.”

You blinked, your attention torn away from the spot where Junmyeon was standing, laughing and chatting with a few of his seniors. Kyungsoo, who sat to your left at the small table in the entertainment building’s cafe, didn’t even look up from the script he was currently reviewing. He’d only been given it the day before and was still considering if he wanted the part that was being offered to him. 

Your gaze dropped to the opened yet untouched notebook lying in front of you on the somewhat sticky surface. Someone must have spilled their syprup-y coffee and didn’t do the best job at cleaning it up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Without moving his head, Kyungsoo looked at you over the rim of his glasses. Even though you were sure you were nothing more than a blur to his eyes at the moment, he could always see right through you. “If you keep staring at him like that, you’re going to give yourself away.”

The ultimate nightmare. The humiliation of being found out. The sweet but awkward rejection that you knew would follow. With his laugh still ringing in your ears, you forced yourself to tune Junmyeon out. 

Pushing his glasses up his nose with his middle finger, Kyungsoo straightened and closed the script. “We can go somewhere else, if that would help.”

You wanted to argue no. That you weren’t a coward. That you weren’t going to run and hide simply because you looked at him like he was the night sky while you were stuck on the ground. You used to have better control of yourself. You used to be able to hide it better. But lately, it had only gotten worse. 

And you were a coward. 

“Yeah. Maybe one of the practice rooms is empty.”

“There’s usually one.”

After gathering up your things, you followed Kyungsoo out of the cafe, stealing a final glance. Junmyeon didn’t so much as twitch in your direction. It wouldn’t have been surprising if he hadn’t even realized that you were there in the cafe for the past half hour. 

Kyungsoo settled into one corner of the worn navy blue couch while you squeezed into the other. Not speaking a word, he went back to reading the script. That was a nicety of your friendship. Comfortable silence was more than readily available when needed. He didn’t push or give unasked for advice. He was an ear to listen and a presence to take in when you didn’t want to be alone. 

You stared down at the notebook in your lap where your next story ideas were supposed to be filling the pages. But nothing was coming out. Not even the vague pictures you’d had earlier this morning. The only things being called to the paper were the sentences held in the invisible tears you refused to shed. Words of wishes and frustrations swirled around inside the tiny droplets, every letter as heavy as lead. Your cruel mind kept echoing at you the conversation that had constricted the air in your lungs. 

Two days ago, you’d accidentally overheard a drama staff worker jokingly say that Junmyeon and his current co-star seemed awfully close, more than merely friends. Stomach lurching, you ran to the nearest bathroom. Nothing came out but almost fifteen minutes of deliberate breathing had gone by before you emerged again. Kyungsoo was quick to dismiss the comment after barely three words from you. The effect, however, still lingered. 

Despite the history of your intrusive thoughts, you wanted to believe that you could be good enough. That you were worthy of being beside someone like Junmyeon. His co-costar was stunning, even in real life. Someone who didn’t need photoshop to draw out gasps of awe and astonishment. Someone you most certainly couldn’t compete with in any race. 

You weren’t asking for much. Just to be able to hold his hand, your fingers interlaced between his own. The fantasy you allowed yourself to indulge in at times wasn’t a grand gesture or a modern fairytale. You wanted simplicity. The smaller moments that could mean so much. Mundane, to some eyes. 

Warm sun rays leaked through the closed blinds over the living room windows. A clock on the wall ticked away the meaningless minutes. Sometimes soft music hummed in the background, sometimes there was nothing but silence. Junmyeon would lay across the length of the couch with you wrapped around his side. His fingers would absentmindedly caress your shoulder or arm. In his other hand was a book, held open by his thumb and pinky. Your own hand drifted through his hair while he read aloud. 

The two of you had dozens of endless conversations about books. About the ones you loved and the ones you hated. About deeper meanings and the reflections of life. His love of literature - from the celebrated classics to the obscure unknown - had been what initially drew you in. Everything else was what made you stay.

A muscle in your hand cramped. The peaceful scene faded from your eyes. The page was now filled with barely legible, ink-smeared words. You’d written the entire scenario out, along with your heart, without even realizing it. 

In a panic, you ripped the paper from its spiral hold, crumpled it up, and tossed it to the trash can across the room. It missed. 

“I doubt whatever you wrote was that bad,” Kyungsoo murmured. He read the final few lines of the script and closed it. 

“It wasn’t,” you admitted bitterly. “But I shouldn’t have written it.” You described the scene to him while your eyes stayed trained on the loose thread twirling between your fingers. 

He sighed. “You’re never going to tell him, are you?”

“I can’t.”

“You can. You’re just stopping yourself.”

You scoffed. “Why would I deliberately set myself up like that? Break me the rest of the way?”

Kyungsoo stared at you, long and hard, his expression blank to those who couldn’t read the tell-tale signs that his thoughts were in overdrive. “You’re really hurting, aren’t you?”

You sniffed, though no tears were yet forcing their way to the surface. “Most days.”

“Then walk away.”

“I can’t.” Your voice broke - just like your heart. The world blurred when you shook your head. “I can’t… simplify it. But-- It’s like I was this stupid lump of rock drifting aimlessly through space, content with my life. Then suddenly, I came across this brilliant star that shined so brightly and… we collided. And now I’m stuck in his orbit. But he just keeps on spinning while my whole world had changed completely. He’s… my gravity. I don’t know anything else anymore.”

“Maybe it’s time to find your own orbit.”

Afraid it might crack again, your voice was barely a whisper. “I don’t know how.”

The door creaked open and your heart leapt. Junmyeon stuck his head inside. Had he overheard everything?

“There you are! I turned away for a second and suddenly you two weren’t in the cafe anymore.”

He’d… He’d seen you? In the cafe?

“It was too loud,” Kyungsoo lied, covering up for you like he always did. 

“It’s always too loud for you,” Junmyeon teased. Then his face morphed into that leader-esque expression. “We need to head to rehearsal. You’re welcome to join us,” he nodded to you.

“No, that’s okay,” you said quickly in response. “I have a writer’s meeting.” No, you didn’t, but space felt like the right choice at the moment. You tried not to focus on the lack of disappointment coming from the direction of the door. 

“Maybe next time.” Junmyeon slapped the side of the door. “Let’s go, Soo.”

You were actually the first one on your feet, muttering goodbyes to both of them and then walking down the hall perhaps a little too fast. 

You didn’t allow your mind to think the whole way home. Every action was done in automatic mode. Only the minimal amount of awareness was used. But when the apartment door clicked behind you, when the near darkness wrapped you up, when the silence crept in and the empty couch mocked you… you broke. 

Knees buckling from under you, the cold hard floor came closer and you didn’t leave that spot just inside the room as the tears and sobs crashed out in waves. 

This was what you hated the most. The breakdowns that came with no excuse. They were built up by your own mind, by your intrusive thoughts. You tortured yourself with what you could never have. The attacks were random and it was only recently that you had learned to hold them in long enough until you were safe within your own walls. One time, you hadn’t made it. Kyungsoo had been there to pat your shoulder. 

Kyungsoo. He was right. 

That clarity was coming through as the tears dried and your breathing evened out again. You needed space. You needed to separate yourself from what wasn’t good for you and not see him. Not even have the temptation to. 

This was going to hurt like hell. 

**

The office somehow looked smaller with the bare walls. Since the day you moved in, you tried to liven it up, give it character, make it reflect the interests you loved. How were you supposed to write if this place felt like a stifling corporate desert, dry of any creativity?

Not that you ever actually wrote in this twelve by eight space. This place had been reserved for meetings and other usually boring necessities. You didn’t know the next time a budget meeting or an email check would be conducted here. You could be back in a few months and move back in as if you never left. Or someone else could take over. Only time would tell. 

The box that currently had your attention was nearly full. You’d have to come back for the rest. There wasn’t much left, anyway. You took another look around to see if there was anything else you could do at the moment. The monitors were black, the tower underneath - so much smaller than the one you’d had as a kid - was powered off, and the chair that was aligned just so to your favored adjustments was pushed into the gray desk. Saying goodbye to this place really did hurt. 

But you needed to do this. 

And yet, you felt like you were drowning, being dragged deeper into the black water. Your lungs were screaming for relief. 

“You’re really leaving?”

Your shoulders stiffened. At first, you didn’t look up at him. You weren’t sure what to say to him. Being here… it was the last place you expected him to be today. Kyungsoo would have told him, but you wouldn’t have waited around for him to appear. 

“Hi, Junmyeon.” You folded up the top of the box, overlapping the pieces so it would stay shut in transport. 

“I thought you liked it here?”

“I love it,” you confessed. “But I- I need to go home for a little while.”

“Are you homesick?”

“Something like that.” Definitely some version of sick. 

He nodded. “Will you be gone long?” His eyes drifted over the holes in the walls leftover from the frames that used to hang in front of them. 

“I don’t know.” You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. This was…. You should go. Pushing your fingers under the box, you started to lift it to take it home. 

“Do you have to go?”

The question stalled you. Confused, the box went back down on the desk. “Why are you here, Junmyeon?”

He shrugged, though it didn’t shake off the stiffness in his shoulders. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, his arms all the way to his wrists covered up by the sleeves of his shirt. Lately he had been rolling them up. You wondered what had changed today. “You’re our friend.”

Friend. 

Friend. Friend. Friend. 

The word rang over and over like a declaration of war. Our friend. 

The smart thing to do would have been to nod, say goodbye, and leave. But - instead - you opened your mouth. 

“I will always be your friend.”

That didn't make him smile like you would have thought. “So, then why do you have to leave?”

You rubbed your eyebrow, fighting within yourself. You lost. 

“Have you ever had a friend so head over heels for someone that won’t even look at them twice? But they don’t care? Because as long as the person they’re looking at is happy, then they’re happy. Even if your friend is completely miserable in the process. Because they no longer care about their own self. They just keep looking at the other person, doing anything that entails that they’re still happy.” You swallowed thickly to try and keep your voice steady. By your sides, your hands were trembling at this roundabout confession. “And you want to shake them. You want to tell them to get out. Because as long as they stick around, they won’t look at one else. No one else exists. Well, this is me. Getting out.”

The frown on Junmyeon’s face deepened as he let your words sink in. “Who is it? Will you tell me?”

No. Because this was enough of an admittance. Because it was time to find your own sense of gravity. 

So, without a word, you picked up the box and left the office. 

Waiting for you when you came back was the scene you had written in the practice room that day, flattened out but still wrinkled as it laid on the desk. 

#exo #kim junmyeon x reader #kim junmyeon #kim joonmyeon #suho #suho x reader #exo oneshot #exo drabble #exo angst #exo unrequited love #kpop

[chocoladieimagines]

Hey can I request akatsuki fluffy HC with a black reader

Thanks 😊

Sure thing! It took me a bit of a while to think of an idea but I got you! I also hope it’s fine that I am comfortable only doing a few of the members in the Akatsuki🤎🍫Enjoy!

Akatsuki x Black! Reader

For one of their missions, two people are sent to a village called Nikkōgakure, meaning Village Hidden by/among Sunlight. They see a possibility of finding the person they’re looking for by infiltrating a local rally, but only experience the feeling of nostalgia after seeing a childhood friend. Y/N L/N is a civil rights activist who has become very well known throughout villages and is sought out by citizens for social change.

Kisame Hoshigaki

- The Akatsuki had to operate in teams that would be most efficient in earning money but also not draw attention to themselves. With two shinobi, it’s the bare minimum to have an actionable team that can accomplish goals.

- Two individuals highly skilled such as Kisame Hoshigaki and Itachi Uchiha are sent to the village, acquiring information about the shinobi forces so the Akatsuki could provide more mercenary services.

- Aside from tracing Jinchuriki, a back up plan was to make countries increasingly dependent on Akatsuki’s services, corner the entire market for shinobi missions and eventually put all of the shinobi villages out of business.

- Kisame didn’t expect the village to have such an ethereal beauty; everything in honeyed tones like there was a layer of tinted filtering added to the sky. As the sunlight sauntered in, it ignited shadows to vivid oranges and reds, giving vivacious hues to the village like it was another world of art.

- The broad days of sunlight allowed tenacious vegetation; flowers seen in every turn he made.

- The truth was that the people could never see flowers too many times; they brought flowers into hospitals and graveyards, used them as a vibrant way to express their love and would plant them in their backyards though they couldn’t bear any edible fruits. The village spent thousands replacing them along the streets and as soon as they would brown, more are brought in.

- “Maybe this place wouldn’t be so bad.” Kisame said to himself but it was more likely loud enough to be heard just between the proximity of him and Itachi.

- “Yes, there’s something about it that makes it look so peaceful. Like it’s ducked off from the world’s ugliness and imperfection.” Itachi spoke. “Therefore, we will not spark any attention on ourselves. We will only pursue what is absolutely necessary.”

- Kisame followed in Itachi’s words as they watched villagers gather inside of a place, soon walking behind them.

- They both sat in the corner of the room at a small table, everyone’s conversation dying down after the lights dim.

- Kisame heard the sound of heels becoming discernible as they progressed closer to the stage. Once they stopped, the spotlight shined on a beautiful woman.

- He felt himself be captivated by your features; dark satiny brown skin, these dark expressive eyes—pools of honey each time the sunshine hits them, as you wore your hair naturally in its born state.

- You greeted everyone with a warm smile and it seemed a lot of your audience has seen you before—Kisame knew he definitely has.

- He remembered you back in Kirigakure, Village Hidden by Mist or The Hidden Village of The Land of Water. He often saw you tagging along the crewman that traded goods with his village. Having many adventures as a shinobi prior to joining the organization, some of his missions consisted of being involved with the lakes featured along the many islands composing his village.

- The two of you have crossed each other up until the point you kindly greeted him and couldn’t help but feel intrigued by his unique features. He didn’t take offense from it, taking in mind how your voice sounded out of admiration and saw your hand raise a bit like you wanted to feel his features you thought as surreal.

- He only smirked a bit and answered that that was the heredity of his folk, then turned the question on you and asked, “How come whenever the sun hits your skin, you start glowing?”. He watched you stare at him in shock.

- From there on, you two had nice conversations but then you suddenly didn’t see him anymore. You assumed he was getting caught up in a lot of missions and became too busy, which lead to dreading if he could’ve been killed.

- This proceeded for years unbeknownst of him participating in the Akatsuki. But today, he saw you stand behind the podium winning cheers from the crowd. He felt the weird feeling of an adrenaline rush pumping through his bloodstream as his heart rate accelerated by the second he kept looking at you.

- He began to space out from your words, then pondered to himself how he followed the code of the Shinobi in order to “kill his emotions”, which would prevent the average from running wild and causing the mission to be a failure.

- Despite if he was able to feel a drawback from violence, he sadistically enjoyed fighting so there was nothing more that could ever make him feel so vulnerable. He didn’t want to look weak.

- Itachi noticed how Kisame stared at you and honestly he couldn’t blame him. But there was something he sensed other than the gravitation of your beauty, but more like Kisame was remembering you. Like he recalled your appearance from years ago and felt some type of desperation or allure to speak to you.

- “If you wish to speak to her, I recommend this cafe I saw not too far from here. Or take her for a stroll along the street side and visit this flower shop with the biggest garden. But do it when it’s getting darker— the time we’re not on duty.” Itachi assisted, much to his friend’s surprise. “Trust me, I don’t need my sharingan to see how you look at her.”

- With that, Kisame left an anonymous note, telling you to meet him at the heart of the village, where there’s an enormous flower bed, at 8. You wore a fitted kente dress with bell sleeves flaring at your wrists and adorned your hair with a head wrap—having the complementing color, red. His eyes lit up when he saw you approaching the address, watching you look around until you see a man rise from where he was sitting.

- Your mouth was agape in shock as you had a closer look, throwing yourself at him before slowly wrapping your arms around his neck. Kisame stiffened at your display of happiness since he wasn’t sure how you felt about his appearance, if you had a new life with someone or if you shared the same feelings as him. Yet, he wrapped an arm around your waist and walked with you that night.

Deidara

- Deidara felt at ease by the village he was assigned. Unfortunately, being tasked with Tobi made his experience less enjoyable than he would’ve liked.

- But he accredited Nikkōgakure for the artful displays of rainbow freckles adorning the window boxes, the raised medians, or by canopying storefronts. The village always seemed like it was in the presence of a clear sky; the sun mooring itself in the blue as if anchored to heaven’s ether. It wasn’t too hot, nor too cold but adequate for the black cloak he was wearing.

- Tobi openly expressed his awestruck by continuously wanting to stop at places. He even grabbed a brochure upon entering which contained a map of the village, since they were aware of often having newcomers.

- He wandered different places to the point where Deidara would be looking in one direction and next thing turn to see that Tobi is gone. He caught him sniffing the ingredients being chopped up at a vegetable soup stall; tasting some of the scooped broth from the wooden spoon the cook used to mix.

- Deidara snatched him from the stand, “You dunderhead! Do you know what we were even sent here for—,” Tobi raised a finger in clarification. “Don’t answer that question. We are here because there was traces left of a jinchuriki, while you’re steady lollygagging around with your head stuck in a shit-filled world of cupcakes and rainbows called your ASS! Hm. It’s like I’m looking after a fucking child.”

- But then, he noticed that Tobi was looking in another direction; poking his finger out for a black swallowtail butterfly. His menacing glare made the male detect it was silent and looked towards Deidara. “I’m sorry, what did you say again?”

- The blond growled in frustration, chasing after Tobi until he caught him and punched him unconscious. With a huge knot on the man’s head, he snored with a snot bubble drawing from his nose as Deidara dragged him by the back of his collar.

- Suddenly, the snot bubble popped shortly after Tobi awakened. Five minutes into realizing Deidara was pulling him, he caught sight of an art exhibit.

- “Hey Deidara!” Tobi’s childish accent startled the boy. “How did you—” “Look! An art exhibit!”

- Deidara begrudgingly turned to his side to see what appeared to be a church with gardened—pruned—shrubs of hydrangeas; blossoming large, globe shaped flower heads in shades of purple, blue, pink and white.

- “I’m not falling for another one of your shenanigans.” He resisted. “Oh please! I promise this is the last stop! Gaah, I thought you liked art.” Tobi whined. “Art comes in many forms. What would you know about it anyway? Hm.” “It just looks so pretty in there. Do you even try to take your time with things once in a while? Ya know to soak everything in? Enjoy it while it lasts? Yeesh, you should indulge in yourself more.” “Shut it.”

-Although, in the back of Deidara’s mind, Tobi actually made a point. Their duties often consisted of violence after the lead of Nagato or “Pain” concluded that the only way the world would turn away from its constant warfare would be to experience such catastrophic death destruction that it could never again stomach the idea of conflict.

- Nikkōgakure had many amenities that it already looked like it was in its own world of peace. There were only a few times the members had a day off, why not take the opportunity to enjoy himself a bit while he had the chance now? “Your pondering silence means you’re letting my words settle in, doesn’t it? Go on, I’m waiting.” Tobi said, beginning to file his nails. “You really have the nerve to test my patience when it’s my decision to choose how we’re carrying out our mission, hm. I bet you chose an art exhibit just because you knew I like art.” Deidara anticipated. “Who cares? Can we just go in now?”

- Tobi rocked on his heels and swayed in place in impatience, mentally questioning what could possibly be keeping the boy from submitting into a positive answer. Deidara sighed, “Fine, whatever. We don’t have all day.”. The man-child squealed and raised his arms in the air as he quickly ran through the doors. Approaching the exhibit, Deidara’s interest in the hydrangeas returned; feeling drawn to reach out to a grouplet of periwinkle flowers. He was surprised to feel the sensation of paper, stroking his thumb on the cut out petals to realize they were made out of coffee filters. “Incredible, they look so realistic.” He thought.

- On entering, it was even more colorful inside; each of the whitewashed walls possessed by the colors refracting and dispersing from the sun’s light. The walls had pictorial designs of contrasting pieces like mosaics but as stained glass. They took on the designs of flowers with their leaves blooming from the lead frame by being painted along each side of the room. Most significantly, up in the front of the main entrance, there was a large window panel of a tree; it’s branches winding away from it into leaves of different colors. They were soft shades of pink, blue, yellow and green. “Truly beautiful.” Deidara thought.

- Then, he realized he lost track of Tobi. Although Tobi was an adult and could take care of himself (past tense “could”), it was more like he couldn’t because of his antics. Plus, he wanted to make sure they remained on track of their mission.

- On his search to look for him, he was still in amazement of the exhibit and found himself walking down different halls. The building was a combination of both indoors and outdoors. Some of the roofs became like a greenhouse; transparent ceilings allowing the sunlight to shine through as rooms became greenery with more artwork.

- There was a imperceptible voice down the halls, so he began to follow it. He was finally brought to another room but it was filled with people. He almost ignored it until he caught a glimpse of a girl. You were on stage, a blissful smile wide on your face while he acknowledged that you were the one speaking. He took a double take once he saw you; your hair is in tribal braids, free of your face as they accentuated your golden features. Your eyes never aged, they still spoke of your youth and liveliness.

- Just as he remembered, back in the days before he joined the Akatsuki, you two were friends in his home village, Iwagakure: Hidden Stone Village or The Hidden Village of the Land of Earth.

- You were a ceramist in the Ceramic Village, a small village in the Land of Wind, who was a practitioner of Hanasaki. Hanasaki was known for its pure white color and the series of fine cracks that run along its surface which resembled blossoming flowers (befitting its name). As it brought fame to Ceramic Village, Ninja of Sunagakure frequently requested that parts for their puppets be made in the Hanasaki style, but Hanaski was already difficult to produce for mere ceramics.

- Masho, leader of the ceramic village and created of Hanasaki, rarely took requests because of this. However, you were compliant with many ninjas including Deidara who used the high-quality clay because inferior clays wouldn’t take the exact forms he wanted nor would their detonation be as impressive. Hanasaki was the best clay he found as well as you being the best person he could rely on it from.

- Ceramic Village began running low on Hanasaki but you had set up kilns and workshops throughout villages and found different types of clay, including a muddy clay in the Village of Lies. Back in the village, Masho and other Hanasaki ceramists were killed because it was bringing the village to its downfall from hugely relying on Hanasaki as a source of income. The killer‘s motive was that it would be better to pursue new art styles.

- But, you survived because you often hung out with Deidara, flying on his C2 dragon (a large, flight capable dragon), while he showcased different explosives and experiments he made. You convinced him into throwing them into the air like they were fireworks so he wouldn’t hurt the tons of life below you. He enjoyed seeing your reactions to his explosives because he wanted to impress you, to show you that your clay wasn’t going to waste.

- This soon came to an end when he suddenly left the village as an S-Rank missing nin. Now that he was seeing you currently, many of his memories were brought back to him and so were his feelings. The instant he saw you made him feel warm inside, like he body began starving for sweetness and clung to an emotional sugar source. The sound of your laughter along with the people in the room ignited something in him.

- “Deidara! There you are. You know you shouldn’t run off like that, I was looking all over for you. But I gotta say, I knew you would explore this place top to bottom.” Tobi said. “You dumbass. It’s not my fault you got lost in here and along that, sounding like a baby looking for his mom. Hm.”. Tobi shook away what Deidara had to say and instead looked ahead to see you. “Sweet mama, whose the babe? Don’t try to deny it Deidara, I saw you making goo goo eyes at her,” He began nudging him. “Come on you can tell me. Who is she? Your girlfriend? Best friend?” “She is none of your business.” Deidara said through grunted teeth.

- He wasn’t sure about going up to you. He expected that you would be mad, if anything feel betrayed that he could’ve used you for Hanasaki clay. Really, he enjoyed your company and developed feelings for you. But he didn’t think that you returned them and after all, there were many other ninjas you made clay for. So, he left without telling you, not thinking it would mean much or have a significance.

- Yet, here he stood, watching you shake hands with the host of the event as everyone applauded you for your speech. “I may be a dumbass but you really would if you don’t go and talk to her.” Tobi chimed into Deidara’s trance. “Don’t tell me what to do. Don’t you think I would if I could. Hm.” “Why can’t you? She’s right there! The gods have chosen you two to meet each other again!” “Would you shut up.” While they were bickering, you slowly walked up to the blond, recollecting your memories of your old friend.

- “Deidara?” His body jolted at the sound of his name, like you scared him or he was caught by surprise. He slowly turned to look at you, his roseate cheeks burning when you were much closer to him than behind the podium. You looked even more attractive to him being a short distance away; the way your lashes distinguished the gold flame in your brown hues, the way the sunlight shining through the transparent walls hit your skin. “Long time no see.” He could only say through his awestruck, expressing his familiar smirk he always given you. Maybe Tobi did hand it to him this time, he could’ve been onto something all along.

Obito Uchiha

- “Tobi” arrived at Nikkōgakure on his own. Instead of it obligating to be a mission, he knew where your whereabouts were and visited the village following as you described.

- “Dear Tobi, It’s a village named Nikkōgakure. It is very beautiful here; there are flowers everywhere and the people seem so happy. You will notice the disappearance of clouds but a clear blue sky, making way for the sun’s rays. I believe Nikkōgakure has made a settlement somewhere near the outer circle of the equator since the village’s weather is always content and sunny—just right. Turns out, I will be included in a meeting with other kages in order to suggest a change in poverty villages or else referred to as slums. They are low income places where people were displaced in from wars. We are planning to be supplementing money and food into these villages so they may rise and expand on shinobi forces. Then we could affiliate our alliances for times of need...meet me at the sun perennial garden. I hope to see you soon. Sincerely yours, Y/N.”

- You met Obito after he was saved from White Zetsu who was following orders from an elderly Madara. You were a subordinate of Madara, who took you under his wing because of your omni-benevolence. Along with his Eye of the Moon Plan; replacing the contemporary world of violence and death with one where nobody ever needs to die, he spent his time keeping a close eye on Konohagakure to find a suitable pawn to take his place.

- Omni-benevolence meant that you had the capacity to be infinitely good and good in every capacity that good is recognized by any sentient being in existence. This associated with embodying virtues that consisted of your capability of seeking unity and being able to join others or have others join you. You subconsciously emitted an aura that could induce emotions; generally that of compassion, courage, peace or charity. The inducement would draw others to you; alluring social attraction to make people feel appreciation, respect, trust or a liking towards you. It would form an allegiance with that person or anyone you encounter.

- Madara observed this and thought he could use it as another tactic for his idealism of world peace. He could use you to align different villages who crossed each other as enemies and end all conflicts that contributed to war. At the time, since you were only a simple villager who worked at an orphanage in Konoha, it took little for Madara to send Black Zetsu to sway you into Madara’s plans. Black Zetsu opted that you were born with supernatural/psionic abilities and could be the aid for world peace, leading you into the mastermind behind it.

- From the moment on, you were by Madara’s side and helped tended to Obito’s injuries; following the procedure of removing his body parts too damaged to be healed and replacing them with limbs cultivated from the cells of Hashirama Senju. Obito felt frightened by the legendary Uchiha but immediately fell comfortable by your mere presence. He felt indebted to Madara for saving his life, along with you and was willing to render any assistance he could, an offer Madara made clear he would collect upon. However, you had no harmful intentions and would often share your backstory with Obito as a way of bonding.

- Being an orphan himself; Obito grew up without knowing who his parents were and was left in the care of his grandmother. Hence, he felt alone in the world and aspired to become the Hokage so that the people of the village could acknowledge his existence. Finding out that you were training your natural abilities by working at an orphanage, made him feel warm and felt as though you were doing him a favor too.

- After witnessing the loss of Rin Nohara by Kakashi unintentionally plunging his chidori through her heart, Obito vowed to do anything for Madara if it could bring him together with Rin and Kakashi again. Now, Madara would explain his Eye of the Moon Plan and imparted all of his knowledge and plans to Obito, taught him abilities he would need moving forward, entrusted him with his possessions and would have you along with Black Zetsu to assist as a guide. Until Madara’s revival, he told Obito that he would act as Madara Uchiha.

- You knew all about the plan moving forward and there wasn’t a single bone of malevolence in your body. Although Obito was technically in leadership of the plan, you walked up to the man while he watched the sunset and made a proposal to him, newly as Madara.

- “How about we go through with the plan in two ways. I would like to go undercover as a Civil Rights activist to create conditions for the healing of the brain as a resolve to world problems and spread more love. To spread a new philosophical idea.” You said. “Look at you, Y/N. Too pure to be tainted by the world’s sickness. You sugarcoat Earth’s harsh realities with the idea that there can be social change. If anything, humans should be wiped off the face of the planet. We take and take from Earth and yet there is not plenty for all because some of us are greedy and seek a profit. God used to be our guide. Now people worship the corruption of money. There is much evilness upon our world. We lust after killing one another. And no one seems to care.” Obito unfolded, his voice almost cracking.

- “Madara has projected his hatred onto you. It is the Curse of Hatred that has imbued your disillusionment.” You softly whispered in his ear. “An Uchiha’s love can instantaneously turn into hatred, leaving them more inclined to do anything and everything in their power to achieve their goals and show their own superiority, regardless of the consequences and repercussions of their actions. I can heal that, I can allege the world in love.” You noticed he became calmer by your words, the pace of his breathing slowed and with the patient intent to listen to you speak.

- You continued, “Love reduces the cortisol, the stress hormone, which alters brain architecture for the better. Of course I agree with you that humans are imperfect, their flaws drilled and fracked into our planet. We aren’t evolved enough to be trusted with love. We’d try to engineer it, alter it, use it, weaponize it. Power addiction is always the wrong route to escape fear. The only way to understand love is to feel it, embody it, embrace it.” Obito stood in silence for a bit, you assuming that he was taking in your words. Then he sighed, “And you have a feeling this could work?” “Well, the question is, how do you know your plan will work? Will everything matter in the end?” He acknowledged your words again, feeling the lightest bit of hope. “Fine.”

- He concluded that you will have to send letters of your progress as evidence that your plan is going through development. Or else, they will result to what was set originally of projecting the Infinite Tsukuyomi on the moon in order to trap the world in a dream, thus saving mankind from destroying itself but robbing free will of the world.

- This lead up to recently, visiting Nikkōgakure to see you. Just like you addressed, you two met at the Sun Perennial Garden; the flower beds of Daylilies, Hollyhocks, Geraniums, Alstroemerias, etc. The huge glass enclosed garden was filled with butterflies and hummingbirds, like an exhibit, with pathways of stepping stones—tiny flowers blooming between the crevices. He felt that warm feeling again, just as he did when he was first getting to know you. He looked at you with your hair braided into dookie braids (or known as jumbo box braids) that lengthened down your back. You dressed in a patterned halter top with a matching wrap skirt and strapped heels, expressing your body to the homely temperature. He thought you looked more prettier than ever, not because of your open honey brown skin, but because of the peace illustrated on your face. It made him realize maybe the death of Rin could’ve meant something. Not that it was good.

- But was it for the sake of moving on? Meaning so he could make room for another? Or so he could realize the inevitability of death opens the door to pure potential that can make you a better, more open and loving person? All he knew was that it all had to wind down with him meeting you and slowly falling in love like you were saying. I can allege the world in love.

Sorry to keep everyone waiting! I hope you all are having a great day and enjoyed reading!🤎🍫

#naruto x reader #obito x reader #akatsuki x reader #Naruto shippuden x reader #deidara x reader #Kisame x reader #naruto x poc!reader #naruto x black reader #Akatsuki x black reader #obito uchiha x reader #anime x black!reader

[pastel-peach-writes]

Season’s Chances | Katara x Reader

PLOT: Katara has always been your crush since she walked into the room. Everything about her drew you into her. So, what drew her into you? Well, nothing. Matter of fact, she didn’t even know you. You just had to introduce yourself to her, but how?

WARNINGS: Modern College Au!, Snarky Katara!, Unedited

A/N: This was originally supposed to be a headcanon, that’s why the writing feels a little different; so sorry for not posting! I’ve had an injury that didn’t allow me to sit for long periods of time. I started this before I got hurt, but had stopped so abruptly, I didn’t know where to continue. But I got it now!

You can’t remember when you started falling for Katara. Maybe it was the first day you laid eyes on her. Her long hair sat still on her back with two sections pulled from the front to form a small ponytail in the back and leaving two strands to frame her face. 

She wore a blue cami dress with white flowers that had yellow centers, an off-white/cream cardigan, and beige ankle strapped wedges to match. Vanilla mixed with some fruity scent... maybe a bit of lavender fragrance brushed past your nose as she walked by. 

“Whoa, who’s the babe?” One of your guy friends mumbled to you, watching Katara intensely. You shrugged. “I don’t know. We’re all freshmen here, genius.”

Hearing your conversation, Katara looked over her shoulder. Her hair moving with her as it moved from her face. Pearly whites and sparkling blue eyes. Was there a spotlight on her? Does anyone else see rose petals?

“Katara. My name’s Katara, and I would prefer it if you would not refer to me as a ‘babe’.” She did finger quotes. “I’m a woman, not an object. Thanks.” She proceeded to walk towards her destination. 

“Oh, great. A feminist.” The boy mumbled. You hit him on the shoulder with your pen. “She just wanted to introduce herself. Rather be known with a name rather than her looks. What’s wrong with that?”

Unfortunately for your friend, mostly for you though, Katara rarely spoke to you at all. Not because of the situation, but because this college classroom was much bigger than a high school classroom. She sat on the opposite side of you by the farthest wall. Communication is hard when you’re at the ends of two parallel tables. 

However it all changed when you saw her at the school’s library eating a blueberry muffin. Still wearing that same cardigan, but since it was late fall, she had a black faux leather skirt, a maroon tank tucked into said skirt, and cream socks that went up to her knees. There was no way the socks actually provided warmth. The material was so thin you could see her brown skin shine through. 

Her hair was still in a half-up half down too, but instead of a ponytail, it was a quick bun. 

Still glowing like before, she was looking off to the side and picking apart her muffin as she glanced out the window pane. You were going to go up there and talk to her too... but some boy came around. Dark hair, pale skin, red birthmark... burn mark? Must be her boyfriend. 

“Of course she had a boyfriend. Why would a girl like that be single?” You muttered, watching as the two engaged. The older boy never sat down however. Just stood at the table, tapping his fingers on the surface as he talked. Sooner or later, a woman looking around his age in the same dark red aesthetic he was dressed in walked up and planted a kiss on his cheek. The pale pair said their goodbyes and walked away. 

“Holy cow. She’s single?!” You whisper-exclaimed. Katara looked at your direction, sipping some of the not-so-hot chocolate from her to-go cup. You felt warmth on your cheeks as you backed away from the bookshelf you were peering from behind. 

After that, you didn’t see Katara until your junior year of college. She must’ve gotten busy in the last two years. She didn’t show up to class, her sweet perfume didn’t fly past you as you coincidentally walked past her table, and you saw her two friends, but without her. 

On the bright side... yeah, there’s no bright side. The girl were not-so-secretly crushing on seemed to disappear from your life. You knew you should’ve gotten her number when you had the chance. 

“Hey, excuse me!” A voice huffed. You were walking around campus with your head low and hands in your pockets. You were listening to music too, so you didn’t really hear much of the noise around you. When you felt your shoulder hit another and fallen pages laid by your feet, you looked up.

And there she was. Her hair even longer than before, the same sweet smelling scent. Where’s her cream cardigan? 

“Hey, are you alright? Did I bump into you too hard?” Katara said squatting down to collect her papers. “I apologize for that,” She resumes as she stands up to meet your eyes. “It’s my first time being on campus in a while... I had to go back home for a bit to help my sick grandmother.”

You finally had the moment to talk to Katara. To get her number and for her to finally know your name... but nothing. Your lips grew dry and your throat scratchy. Please... not to today. Please... any day but today!

Katara awkwardly laughed. Your blank stare to her was bone chilling. “Oh, well, h-here I am trauma dumping on a stranger.” You and her stared at each other once more. You begging for your throat to allow you to take something and Katara begging you to say something to save her from this awkwardness. 

No response. She sighed and began to walk away. You turned on your heels to watch her leave. Come on, Y/n. You can’t let her go again! It’s fate. How many times to introduce yourself are you going to get?

“Y/n!”

“I’m sorry,” She turned to look back at you. Spotlight, rose petals. It was just like freshmen year again. “What?”

“Y/n.” You repeated, walking up to her. “My name is Y/n.”

“Oh,” she smiles. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Y/n. I’m Katara.”

#katara x reader #atla fanfic #avatar the last air bender fanfic #Avatar The Last Airbender #katara fanfic #katara #pastel-peach-writes #gender-neutral terms #Gender nuetral reader #atla x reader #atla x you

[charincharge]

for holiday prompts: "just open the damn present" and/or someone slips on some ice and the other conveniently catches them

rowaelin high school bff au:  past-take masterlist

AN: Happy Holidays from these idiot best friends, who have pined through so many years of their life it’s almost hysterically funny to write. Here’s a 7th grade past-take for you. Thanks for being on this ride! xoxo.

Aelin struggled to catch her breath as she took her bow. Her pulse raced with excitement as the applause swirled around her, a raucous wave of noise congratulating her for her months of hard work, as she lowered her pointe-shoe clad foot behind her and curtseyed deeply. Opening night had gone amazing. She’d nailed every fouetté, every pirouette, every lift. She felt like she was floating on air.

Through the glare of the spotlight, she spotted her dad, whooping loudly as he leapt to his feet, and Rowan beside him, his hands clapping wildly. Her stomach flipped at the sight of her best friend’s smile, and she couldn’t help but return it as she walked back to the side of the stage, making way for the rest of the principals to take their bows.

She clapped dutifully as they finished their curtain call, trying not to rush too fast off stage as soon as the curtain dropped.

She barely paused to untie her pointe shoes and toss them in her ballet bag, swapping them for a pair of cozy socks. She was about to rush out the stage door in her costume when the company director tsked in her direction. She nodded her head in apology and removed her fancy dress, hanging it up in her cubby. As fast as she could, she put on her clothes, a pair of comfy leggings and a warm sweater, grabbed her things, and went in search of her dad and best friend. She hadn’t seen her friends in weeks. After getting cast as Clara, her entire life suddenly belonged to ballet, and she really missed seeing him. It was an incredible role, and she’d auditioned three years in a row to finally get it – but the more she danced, the more she realized that she missed the balance of her normal life. Missed spending time with Rowan.

“There’s my beautiful ballerina,” Rhoe said, pulling Aelin into his arms with no hesitation. Aelin grinned as her dad pressed a kiss to her heavily hairsprayed hair. “You were spectacular,” he said, handing her a giant bouquet of flowers.

“Thanks, Dad,” she said, her brightly colored cheeks heating as she spotted Rowan waiting beside her dad, his foot tapping rapidly as he looked her over. She tried to squash her blush, but it was nearly impossible with Rowan’s smiling face so close.

Having a crush on her best friend was super annoying. It’d been over a year since she realized she liked him, but each day got harder, not easier to deal with her feelings. She hated the way she was suddenly nervous around him, unsure if she was smiling too much or too little or laughing too hard or what her hair looked like; she’d never been self-conscious, but now she couldn’t help but wish that she’d washed her stage makeup off before seeing him. She must look crazy.

“Simply amazing, hon!” Aunt Maeve cooed, pulling Aelin into her arms, squeezing her tightly. “I had no idea you could dance like that,” she said, and Aelin nodded again, trying to keep her breathing even as Rowan finally stepped forward to hug her himself.  

“I knew,” A large smile appeared on his face as he stepped away, and Aelin could feel her stomach flip at the close contact between them.

“You weren’t bored?” Aelin asked, and Rowan shook his head emphatically side to side. “I know I barely danced for twenty minutes.”

“Not even close.”

Aelin beamed at her best friend, who had sat through the three-hour ballet, just to watch her perform on opening night. Ballet wasn’t exactly Rowan’s favorite, but it meant the world to her that they all came to watch her in her big starring role.

“Should we go back to the restaurant?” Maeve asked. “I have some peppermint brownies that need tasting…”

“Yes!” Aelin begged, her stomach growling with hunger. She had been so nervous before her performance that she’d forgone dinner, and new experimental baked goods from Maeve’s sounded perfect.

She shrugged on her coat, and as she lifted her ballet bag to her shoulder, Rowan reached out. “I’ll take that.” She narrowed her eyes at him, but he simply shrugged. “A star never carries her own bags,” he laughed.

“Thanks,” she laughed at his ridiculous offer.

Aelin felt him following her all the way back to the car, hovering just behind her. It was slightly unnerving. Now that she was coming down from her performance high, the only adrenaline pulsing in her system was from her best friend’s proximity. She knew it.

She tried to walk faster to escape the strange feeling of him being so close behind her, but in her efforts to put distance between them, she missed the patch of ice coating the parking lot, and her foot slipped out from beneath her.

Her yelp was cut short, her arms bracing herself for a fall that never came, as Rowan’s strong arms wrapped around her waist. She inhaled sharply as his hands slid up, helping her back to standing. All she could feel was her heart pounding wildly.

“Careful, Ace,” he chuckled softly, his eyes flicking to her legging-clad legs. “It’d be a real shame if you only got to dance opening night after all these months of practice.”

She nodded, attempting a smile as she righted herself and got into the car. She tried to ignore the way he slid in after her, shoving herself against the window as far as she could, trying to put some space between them in the cramped backseat of Maeve’s car.

They arrived at the restaurant quickly, and Aelin smiled as Maeve lit up the space, the twinkle lights on the tree in the corner and twisted around garlands brightening the place immediately.

“You two sit,” Aunt Maeve ordered. “I’ll heat up the brownies.” She pointed to Rhoe. “And for us, bourbon vanilla chai?”

Rhoe clapped loudly. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

As the adults scuttled around the kitchen, Aelin took a seat in the cozy armchair by the window. It was dark purple, and she sank right in happily. She expected Rowan to take the seat across from her immediately, but instead he held up a finger and said, “Wait here.”

He returned quickly with a small package, wrapped in red paper and tied with a white ribbon. Aelin blinked and then blinked again as he placed the box on the small table between them and finally took his seat in the opposing chair.

Aelin looked down at the present and then back at Rowan, who was looking at her with wide green eyes.

“What’s this?” Aelin asked, poking the paper gently with her finger, and Rowan rolled his eyes.

“It’s a present.”

Aelin nodded, her stomach swirling wildly. “I can see that.”

She stared at the present nervously, as if it would explode if she opened it, and she could hear Rowan start to huff, annoyed at her reticence.

“For me?” she asked, wondering if maybe it was for Aunt Maeve and he just wanted to ask her if she’d liked how he’d wrapped it. Which, for the record, she did. It was beautifully wrapped, the ribbon pulled into a perfect bow, criss-crossing around the gift elegantly.

“Of course it is,” Rowan huffed again, and she could practically see him crossing his arms, fed up with her questioning, even though her eyes were still trained on the present between them.

“Rowan.” She paused and finally looked up. His wide eyes had narrowed, and there was a slight pout on his lips. “I didn’t get you anything,” she said. That was their rule. They didn’t exchange presents on holidays or birthdays. They’d decided early on in their friendship that it was too much pressure, and they didn’t need to get each other presents – they were content to share memories of spending those days together. They didn’t need things. That was their rule.

As if he finally realized what she was saying, Rowan started sputtering quickly. “It’s not a Christmas present!” he insisted. “It’s an opening night present. So, I haven’t broken any rules.” Aelin narrowed her eyes skeptically at his loophole.

“But now I feel bad that I don’t have anything for you,” she sighed.

Rowan rolled his eyes, clearly exasperated with her. “Ace, I watched you audition for this role for the last two years, and you finally got it. And you worked really hard, and it showed. That’s why I got it for you, okay? That’s it,” he said.

“But—” Aelin started to protest, but Rowan wasn’t having any of it.

“Ace,” he whined. “Just open the damn present.”

“Fine,” she snapped, though inside her heart was beating wildly with anticipation. She untied the bow with deft fingers, and quickly retied it in her still curled hair, making the edges of Rowan’s mouth curl upwards as she tied the bow at the top of her head.

She giggled at his expression. “Do I look stupid?” she asked. “I forgot to take off my stage makeup.”

“You look great,” Rowan assured her, his eyes darting back down to the wrapped box, and Aelin smiled, satisfied with his answer, before leaning down and carefully opening the small box.

She pushed the paper aside and lifted the lid of the white box inside, gasping at the sparkling snowflake hanging from a chain inside.

“Oh,” she breathed softly, hanging the necklace off her finger, watching it shine glittering patterns across the glass as the soft light of the roof refracted off of it. “This is… really pretty,” she said, her voice quiet as she watched the delicate pendant sway gently mid-air. Really pretty was an understatement. It was beautiful, spectacular, resplendent, and a whole slew of other vocabulary words that were racing through Aelin’s brain.

She looked past the necklace to her best friend, who watched her with a hawk-like intensity.

“I tried to look for a nutcracker necklace,” he said quickly, “But they were all so ugly. None of them looked like you,” he explained. “And I knew there were snowflakes in the ballet, but I didn’t know if you danced with them or not,” he raced out. “And now I know you don’t, but it can still remind you of tonight, right?”

His cheeks were flushed from his rushed explanation, and she smiled and nodded shyly at her friend, who was usually the quiet one between them. But Aelin didn’t even have the words. It was perfect.

“Will you help me put it on?” she asked, chewing on her bottom lip nervously as she waited for him to reply.

He didn’t respond, and she held her breath as he took the chain from her finger and started to unclasp it. Aelin sat up as straight as she could, shoulders back and neck stretched as she lifted her heavy sprayed curls off her back.

Her breath stuttered as she saw the snowflake come down in front of her face, resting just above the neckline of her sweater, and she suppressed a shiver as she felt Rowan’s warm fingers brush against her skin as he reclasped the necklace. Oh my gods. She’d never felt so warm and cold all at the same time. She bit her lip to keep from grinning to widely and giving herself away, as she was sure he could see her reflection in the window in front of them.

“Done,” he said, and Aelin’s heart took off racing as he sat back down and smiled at her.

“Now I look perfect,” she said, finally freeing her bottom lip and smiling back. They sat there smiling at each other, two mirror images of contentedness until a plate of brownies was placed between them.

Startled, Aelin looked back up at Aunt Maeve, who was grinning widely herself as she glanced between the two friends. Aelin was sure she was about to say something horribly embarrassing about how pink her cheeks were or how wide her smile was, but instead Maeve leaned down and kissed the top of Rowan’s head, causing his own face to redden.

“I hope you’re hungry,” she said, pointing to the delicious smelling brownies.

“Starving,” Aelin said, already reaching for the biggest piece. She shoved the baked good into her face, only slowing her chewing when she realized Rowan hadn’t eaten one yet. “What?” she asked between crumb-filled bites.

“You really like it?” he asked, his eyes flickering down to the sparkling necklace.

She put her hand over it. “I love it,” she said emphatically, still chewing. “But don’t expect I’m going to start buying you presents just because you got me one,” she said, furrowing her brow. “Christmas is next week, and I have too many performances to try and go shopping before then.” She paused.

“Of course,” Rowan laughed, finally reaching for a brownie himself. “Besides, I don’t need a present,” he laughed, reaching over and tugging at the bow on the top of her head. “I have you.”

Aelin smiled and took another bite of her brownie. She’d never take this necklace off as long as she lived.

~*~

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#rowaelin #i don't want to wait au #out take #past take #charincharge writes #high school au #tog fanfic #holiday prompt

[adhd-disaster-willie]

you’re the one that brings the sun; chapter 2/6

Chapter 1

Warnings: Swearing, mention of death (very brief, not graphic)

Notes: Yes it is six chapters now lmao

---

Alex is one month, 4 breakdowns, and probably $100 worth of coffee (even with his employee discount) into his first semester of college and more than prepared for his daily screaming into a pillow session. He stumbles into his dorm, but comes to a screeching halt as soon as the door closes behind him.

“You’re painting the walls.”

Willies spins around, narrowly avoiding falling off his step stool, and gives Alex a lopsided grin. “Wonderful observation,” he quips, hopping down with a paintbrush still in his hand.

“You- you can’t do that.” Alex gapes at him, dumbfounded.

“Ah, can’t I?” Willie raises his eyebrows, smiling. His cheeks are flushed and his hair has been haphazardly pulled up, flyaways falling to frame his face. Alex shakes himself from his reverie. This is not the time to be admiring Willie, idiot.

“No- that’s… that’s against the rules,” Alex says desperately. “The RA lives like, right next door.”

“He’s colorblind,” Willie reassures Alex. “And a homophobic asshole.”

“He’s- what? I…” Alex runs his hands over his face, breathing in deeply. “Okay. Okay. Uh, why are you painting the walls?”

Willie settles into the couch, humming thoughtfully. “I was working on that one essay but couldn’t focus because-” he waves his hands around his head vaguely, like that’s supposed to explain his thoughts. “-and then I remembered that there was a sale at Home Depot so here we are.”

Alex looks up at the wall, trying to ignore the anxiety clutching at his chest like mistletoe to a tree. It’s fine, it’ll be fine. “Why blue?” His voice comes out much less calm than he’d hoped.

“It’s my favorite color,” Willie replies like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m only painting that one wall anyway, the sale was just for the mini paint buckets. I think a pop of color is nice, y’know?” He jerks his hands in the direction of the wall, grinning.

“You’re gonna have us killed,” Alex states simply. “I’m gonna be expelled and have to crash at Julie’s again and I won’t have a college education and the band is gonna fail and I’ll be uneducated and living on the streets.”

“Woah, hey.” Wille stands up, face knitted with worry. He sets a hand on Alex’s shoulder, steadying him. “Dude, I didn’t know it would freak you out. Shit, uh, I can paint over it. Really, it was stupid and impulsive.”

Alex shakes his head. “No, no it’s fine. It’s just-” In for 4, out for 8, deep breaths Alex. “Just stupid anxiety, I’m overthinking.”

Willie tilts his head to the side slightly. “Yea? You sure you’re cool with it?”

And he really is… cool with it, at least sort of. Apparently there’s an override switch in his brain that makes it so of something makes Willie happy, Alex can’t help but be okay with it. Huh. That’s new.

“Um…” Now that his brain is less foggy, Alex is realizing that Willie is like… really close. “Uh, yea. Just… don’t go painting any murals in the bathroom.”

Willie laughs loudly, throwing his head back and bouncing slightly on his heels. Alex’s gaze rakes over his face, golden sunlight seeping through the window and dancing across Willie’s cheeks. There’s a certain comfort to the way the sun comes through the window each evening. Miraculously, their dorm is positioned in an odd way that gives them a west and east facing window; and the way the light drapes over Willie is different at sunset compared to sunrise. It’s looser, makes him look free and like he keeps the sun right in his pocket, only letting it out when Alex is near. Stupidly, Alex thinks he wouldn’t have much trouble forgiving any future bathroom murals. One month, they’ve known each other for a month and Alex is already waxing poetic about him. He scolds himself internally.

“Tell you what,” Willie starts, stepping back and gesturing vaguely. “I’ll buy you a coffee to make up for it.”

“Dude it’s like 5pm,” Alex reasons, but his resolve is already dwindling at the sight of Willie’s playful grin.

“And? It’s the weekend.” Willie tosses an arm over Alex’s shoulders, sticking his bottom lip out in a dramatic pout. “It’s just coffee.”

“Remind me what happened last time you drank coffee.”

Willie sighs mournfully. “We do not speak of the carnation incident.”

“Right,” Alex chuckles. “Okay. Fine. But no more painting the walls.”

“Aye aye captain!” Willie gives a theatrical salute before waltzing out the door with Alex at his heels.

5:30pm in late September means it’s just chilly enough to wear jeans instead of shorts and just sunny enough to see light slipping through the trees and grass. Willie seems to be a magnet for the sunlight, leading it in a subtle dance as they walk across campus. Alex follows the way his hair sways in the light breeze, painted in a sheet of gold and bronze, like it’s been dipped in a liquid campfire. He wonders if his heartbeat is synced to the rhythm of Willie’s feet, marveling at how each step seems to send a ripple through Alex’s entire body. It’s unfair, the way the evening sun makes everything seem softer and more poetic, and Alex thinks that he could write an entire song about the way Willie glances over at him with a teasing smile. In a- a friend way of course. Because everyone thinks about how beautiful their friends look while walking. Of course.

Willie turns to Alex with his head tilted slightly. His expression is frustratingly unreadable. There’s blue paint brushed across the bridge of his nose and his left cheekbone, like his skin is stained with bits of the sky and Alex has a weird urge to bring his hand up and brush it away, but also a weird desire for that paint to be there forever; it suits Willie. His eyes, shining amber in the light, glance over Alex’s face and Alex feels like he’s being put under a spotlight except Willie’s the only person in the audience. Willie finally speaks his mind, his voice gentle. “Your hair looks golden in this light”

Alex feels his entire face go pink and he almost squeaks “You can’t just say those things!” But his tongue seems to be caught in the back of his throat so he opts for a mortified smile before turning to focus on the sidewalk right ahead of him. Willie doesn’t elaborate, or pressure Alex into responding, and they lapse back into a comfortable silence.

It isn’t until they’re just outside the coffeeshop that Alex comes to what is probably a mildly important realization. Bobby’s working right now. Bobby, Carrie’s cousin who’s known Alex as long as Luke and Reggie have, occasionally plays with the band, and has been involved in too many conversations about a certain long-haired skater. Alex’s stomach fills with an unmistakable dread at this thought.

“Alex? You good?” Willie bumps their shoulders and shoots him a smile that’s soft around the edges. “You can just get tea if you’re that anxious about the coffee.”

“No,” Alex chuckles, attempting to mask his stilted breathing. “It’s fine, coffee’s a good idea anyway. I need to stay up and practice that one horrible drum solo my professor insists I perfect.”

“And you have to do that tonight?”

“Yea, the band has a gig on Sunday so Luke’s probably gonna lock me in the studio to rehearse all of tomorrow.”

Willie giggles bubbily, his eyes squinting in the way that makes Alex’s stomach flip. Alex opens the door and a stupid piece of his mind itches to grab Willie’s hand to pull him in. He doesn’t.

Alex likes his workplace. The lights are warm and drape like a blanket over the building, the walls are decked in posters and paintings and vinyls, the windows are clothed with too many plants to count, and the chairs are the type you can just melt into and fall asleep. If he was still religious, he’d thank god for the fact that he was able to score a job here instead of a stiff, concrete chain store. The place is owned by the sweetest middle-aged lesbian couple who like to bring their cats by and let Alex take home leftover food when he has the closing shift. He likes it, and finding a customer service job Alex enjoys is like finding a needle in a haystack. And yet, his whole body is buzzing with nerves. He loves Bobby, he does, but the boy is just as fond of teasing Alex as Luke and Reggie are, and of course Willie had to pick right now.

Willie’s grinning as soon as he processes his surroundings. “Dude you didn’t tell me this place was so cool!” He grips Alex’s forearm excitedly and Alex’s entire brain just… short circuits. He’s sure Willie’s gushing about the mural on the back wall, because he has the awestruck and giddy expression he always gets when talking about art or skateboarding, but Alex’s brain is not registering a single thing Willie says.

Alex hears a loud and deliberate cough and is swiftly pulled from his mind, realizing three things: He is blatantly staring at Willie with a smile he doesn’t even want to see, Willie is still holding onto his arm and rambling, and Bobby is looking on with an expression that tells Alex that there is most certainly a new picture on his phone that will make for wonderful blackmail material.

“Alex, who could this be?” Bobby asks, and of course he’s the one with a scary good poker face because Alex almost believes that he truly is clueless.

Willie lets go of Alex’s arm, a cruel trick of the light making it look like he’s blushing. He gives Bobby a wave. “That’d be me. I’m Willie, Alex’s roommate.”

“Oh!” Bobby smiles innocently. “The famous Willie!”

“Famous?” Willie cocks an eyebrow at Alex. “You talk about me, hotdog?”

“Hotdog?” Bobby gives Alex an expression identical to Willie’s, but laced with mischief instead of fondness. Alex has an inexplicable urge to flee.

“Let’s just get our drinks,” Alex squeaks, herding Willie up to the counter and sneaking a death glare at Bobby on the way over.

“Hmm, and what’ll that be?” Bobby asks, making a point to plaster on his customer service smile.

“Medium cold brew with cinnamon almond-milk foam for me and a medium green tea for Willie, decaf.”

Willie looks at Alex incredulously. “You know my tea order?”

“It’s- it’s all you drink!” Alex squeaks defensively, picking at the collar of his shirt because when did it get so warm?

Bobby snickers. “Okay, one pretentious-ass cold brew and a horribly boring tea.”

Willie goes to pay, chuckling under his breath.

“Your drinks should be ready shortly, by the way Alex, I like this one,” Bobby snickers.

“Oookay!” Alex blurts, dragging Willie from the counter in hopes that he didn’t hear the last bit of Bobby’s sentence. His cheeks are burning as he directs them to his favorite corner of the shop. There are two chairs nestled in the corner, partially hidden by a rickety bookshelf and a wall of plants that hang down and will occasionally brush against the chair’s occupant. In the mornings, the sun shines through in a way that makes the chairs perfect for curling up like a cat seeking warmth. Alex sinks down into the seat nearest to the wall with a contented sigh and shuts his eyes, humming softly. “This is my favorite chair,” he mutters, eyes still closed.

“Hmm.” Willie’s response sounds odd, so Alex cracks open one eye only to find Willie sat in the chair beside him, elbows on the armrest closest to Alex, his chin resting in his palms. He’s looking at Alex with his lips curled into an almost wistful smile and suddenly Alex feels awfully overwhelmed. “It’s a very nice chair,” Willie says, leaning back to relax his head against the cushion and swinging his legs over the arm rest. Alex almost mourns his gaze, but he quickly shakes that feeling. It’s silly.

A gentle breeze drifts in through the window, which is always open slightly at this time of year, when it’s not too hot and not too cold out. Alex’s nose wrinkles, feeling the plant hanging above his head dance across his face in response to the wind. He hears Willie giggle beside him and he whips around, definitely not pouting. “What?”

“You made a face,” Willie responds, gesturing to his own face and mimicking Alex’s previous expression. “It was cu- it was uh, funny.” Willie goes red for a split second, but Alex writes it off as the heat and is about to ask if he wants the window closed when Bobby comes walking up, drinks in hand.

“I’m obligated by contract to warn you, Willie, that Alex with caffeine past 3 is never a sight you want to behold,” Bobby says, handing them their drinks and pulling up a chair to sit across from them.

“There is no such contract,” Alex protests. “And you’re exaggerating.” He takes a sip of his coffee, glaring at Bobby from behind the cup.

“Maybe not a formal one.” Bobby turns to face Willie now. “Seriously, caffeine at night makes him emotional for some reason.”

“Liar!”

“No dog movies when Alex has coffee at night, he’ll be sobbing for hours, even if the dog lives.”

“Noted,” Willie says, laughing. Alex contemplates kicking Bobby.

“Hey Bobbers, remember that time when you tried jumping an electric fence half naked because you got caught sneaking into a pool at night to impress a girl?”

Bobby blinks, his expression uncaring. “You cannot embarrass me,” he says. “I have no shame whatsoever.”

“Of course you don’t,” Alex grumbles.

“Anyway, as I was saying, Willie-”

“We should get back before dark!” Alex interrupts. He grabs Willie’s hand and all but shoves him from the shop, shouting at Bobby the whole way to prevent him from saying anything more to embarrass him.

Willie looks up at Alex, clearly amused, and they begin the walk back to their dorm. “Bobby seems nice,” He says nonchalantly.

Alex groans loudly. “No, no he’s terrible. He is one of my best friends and I despise him.”

Willie nods, sipping his tea. “Your friends are all pretty cool.”

“Yea… yea they’re great.” Alex pauses, sighing. “I don’t know where I’d be without them. The streets, probably,” Alex snorts bitterly at the last bit. It doesn’t cross his mind that Willie hasn’t been filled in on this. He doesn’t want to get into it. Willie seems to get the hint, brushing the confusion from his face in favor of looking up at the sky.

“I’ve always wished I was better at landscape paintings,” Willie whispers, his tone practically reverent. “Some people can just… capture every detail and emotion in- in sunsets and what-not. And it’s- it’s insane!” He gestures wildly with his hands as he talks, tea threatening to spill everywhere. “I can do abstract just fine, it’s my favorite. But my landscapes are always so… bland. I wish I could paint the feeling behind it as much as the plain details.”

Alex has seen his landscapes, and thinks them far from bland, but he doesn’t say anything. Willie has a way of turning the most horrifically boring pieces into storms of color and emotion, and Alex thinks that each brushstroke holds a piece of his soul. But he keeps his mouth shut.

“The sunset is nice,” Willie says. “I love when the clouds are pink like this. My mom used to-” he laughs nostalgically, remembering something. “-she used to tell me stories about the clouds. They all had their own personalities and lives and families. She would sit at her easel, painting the clouds, and I would be at her feet just… absolutely mesmerized.” There’s a certain shine in Willie’s eyes that Alex hasn’t seen before; it’s bittersweet and sort of disconnected. “And somehow… somehow she could show the cloud’s personalities in the paintings. I wish I could do that. She was the one who made me love art; I remember when I got my first skateboard, I stayed up for hours painting the bottom and I was so proud of it. And after I grew out of it she... she hung it on the wall above the mantel and would tell everyone who saw it how awesome it was”

Willie’s taken on a new demeanor, and Alex realizes this is the first time he’s spoken about his parents. “She seems amazing,” Alex mutters, voice quiet like he’s afraid of breaking something.

“Yea,” Willie replies. “She… she was.” He lets out a shaky breath. Oh. “She was a single mom, I never knew my father, never had the chance to ask about him. She died in a car crash when I was 14, I’ve lived with my uncle Caleb since.”

“Oh. Willie I-”

“It’s fine. I miss her, but it’s been four years y’know? I’m not… shrouded in grief like I used to be.” He gives Alex a genuine smile to prove it, and bumps their shoulder together. “C’mon, we’re almost home.”

Home. Home used to be Luke and Reggie and Julie, now… now Alex isn’t quite sure. College still feels new and different, and he often feels like his doesn’t belong. His dorm doesn’t feel much like home, it feels like a hotel room, like he’s a guest. But Willie… Willie feels more like home than anything in that dorm. Willie and his stupid blue wall and his long rambling and loud laughing. Home is Luke and Reggie and Julie and Willie, and that’s completely and utterly terrifying to Alex.

---

Chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

Notes: This chapter was gonna be longer but I felt like that was a good place to leave off. I hope you liked it :)))

Taglist: @thatsanewflavor @spookiest-sapphic @dovesgrangers @julie-n-phantoms @frostknyte @thegaylink @nervousmiracletrash @crummycassidy @fairygclds @reallyintrospectivepeople @madsmax-37 @swamp-acad @kat-maybe-not @sunsetcurve123 @lookingthroughmirrors @queer-fandom-enby

#willex #jatp #julie and the phantoms #willex fic #jatp fic #willex fanfiction #willex fanfic #jatp fanfic #jatp fanfiction #willow writes #wille jatp #willie nolastname #alex mercer #bobby wilson #bobby jatp #reggie peters #luke patterson #julie molina #ytotbts #you’re the one that brings the sun

[waveypedia]

New Days

Rymin Week Day 4: Off the Train

1 2 5 6 7

Ao3

~

Contrary to popular belief (his parents), Min-Gi is not a morning person.

He’d trained himself into getting up and going to bed early, first at his parents’ insistence, then as a necessary skill for all the classes he was taking in high school (Gotta make that college application shine!). Yet given the choice, he would happily stay up all night and wake up extremely late.

On the train, all of Min’s obligations and restrictions suddenly vanished. Although his schedule was primarily dictated by not dying, which led him to sleep and wake up at odd hours (and telling time on the train is a complicated task anyways), he started sleeping in later and later. Now that he’s off the train, and most of his days consist of driving, songwriting, and practicing, he’s free to wake up as late as he wishes.

It’s why he finds himself slowly slipping into the world of wakefulness one unassuming Thursday morning. The van is already moving, as per usual - Ryan doesn’t mind the quiet mornings as Min sleeps away. Golden rays of sunlight peak through the van’s windows.

In the driver’s seat, Ryan is spotlighted in one. The sun’s brilliant hues turn his brown hair into shades of tree bark and make his soft skin glow. He’s beautiful.

Ryan is a morning person, in contrast to Min, but he would very much like to be a night person. They’ve spent ages lamenting the fateful injustice. Unlike Min, who used to force himself to go to bed early even if it meant lying awake in the dark for hours, Ryan chooses to just run on little sleep. He’d go out and party and/or perform all night, crash for a few hours, and wake up at his usual time.

He’s been getting better, though. Just like Min, they’ve both been making bounds of progress now that they’re off the train and free from restrictions. Every time Ryan goes to bed at a decent hour, it eases the worry in Min’s heart.

They’re both doing so much better now. Min never thought he’d be grateful for getting spontaneously kidnapped by a magical death train, but he and Ryan are so much happier now than they’d ever thought they’d be.

Ryan glances over, smiling fondly. “Good morning, sleeping beauty.”

It’s a running joke between them, one that started way back on the train with Kez, but Min’s heart never fails to make a little jump whenever Ryan calls him beauty.

“Morning,” Min replies, stretching. He digs around in a bag at his feet. “Did you move the songbook?”

“Yeah, I was working on it earlier,” Ryan says. He jerks a thumb behind him without taking his eyes off the road. “I left some new lyrics and chords for you to look over.”

Min smiles. “Thanks.” Following Ryan’s directions, he grabs the songbook, a blue pencil, and his coveted mini-synth. Items in hand, he carefully slips into the passenger’s seat and buckles up.

Ryan shoots him a quick grin and turns his music off so Min can write.

For the next few hours, they stay as they are - Ryan keeps them on track to their next gig, while Min tackles the lines Ryan wrote earlier. It was a bit of a learning curve, figuring out how to write songs together, when they first started out. Ryan only knew chords and tablature, while Min only knew notated music from his viola days. Now, though, a couple months into their journey, they’ve worked out a good system. Whoever comes up with lyrics or a melody first (usually lyrics, and usually Ryan) will pen it along with any chords or notes they can think of. The other will look it over, edit it, and add the missing element. It usually makes for a solid first draft.

Min twirls the pencil in his hand. Blue. His favorite color. Ryan usually writes in a red pencil, from a set of colored pencils he stole from his younger brother before leaving. It makes contributions easy to distinguish when writing and editing.

Every so often, while Min looks over Ryan’s ideas, he’ll pull out his mini-synth and tap out a melody. Both of them find it easier to create melodies with an instrument in hand. Min may not play his mini-synth on stage like Ryan plays his guitar, but it still makes him happy to play it regularly. Not as a toy, not as something he has to hide from his boss and his parents, but as a genuine instrument.

As he writes and plays, Ryan listens. He keeps his attention on the road and map, but chimes in every so often with little affirmations and suggestions.

“Is that a D?” Ryan muses. “Under a G?”

Min thumbs the corner of the page. “Yeah, I think it sounds cool. Thoughts?”

Ryan graces him with a patented Ryan Akagi grin, all teeth. “I like it! I’ll look it over when you drive.” Ryan squeezes his fists on the steering wheel. “I’m really glad we’re working together, Min. This is way better than anything I’ve written solo.”

Min ducks his head, cheeks flushing. “Oh- Uh- I like writing with you too,” he replies. “

--

In the afternoon, they pull over and Min takes the wheel. Sometimes at this time they stop for food - they’ve made it their mission to catalogue all the small restaurants across Canada and America on the way to New York for future reference. But today Ryan got a late start on driving because he was songwriting (“Inspiration strikes when it strikes, Min! Who am I to deny my muses?” Never mind that Ryan is uncharacteristically close-lipped about what/who said muses even are), so they eat separately in the car. They step out to stretch for a minute, and Min hands over the songbook and food. Then they’re off again.

Ryan makes a few more edits with his red pencil, but they always collaborate on the second pass. At both of their insistence, they have to wait until one of them isn’t driving to truly discuss it. Min thought he might have to put his foot down on this, but Ryan was insistent - he’s an experienced driver and knows far to well just how dangerous and difficult driving is.

The afternoon passes without much fanfare. Min keeps his eyes on the road while Ryan edits and eventually breaks out his guitar. The highway is long, flat, and unassuming. Few other cars pass them.

It’s for that exact reason Ryan gets an idea that is both brilliant and stupid.

“Min. Min. Minminminminminmi-”

“What.” A feeling of dread washes over Min before the words are even out of Ryan’s mouth.

Ryan grins toothily at him. “I’m gonna stick my head out the window.”

Min chokes on air., surprised. “Wh- Ryan. Why would you want to do that? Didn’t you have enough thrills on the death train?”

“Eh,” Ryan says, shrugging. “I’ve always wanted to do it, but i couldn’t exactly do it while driving when I was touring alone. Besides, my parents would never let me.”

“For good reason,” Min grumbles, but in his gut he knows Ryan’s already won.

Ryan frowns at him. “Look, I’m not stupid. I’ll be careful. I won’t lean so far out of the car that I’ll fall. I’ll come back in if there are more cars or it looks like I might hit something.”

“Or if we start turning,” Min warns.

Ryan’s replying smile is blinding. “Does that mean it’s a yes from you?”

Min rolls his eyes. “Just try not to die. If I show up to the venue with only half the band, the manager won’t be happy with me.”

“Yes!” Ryan punches his fist in the air and dances triumphantly - or, he dances as much as one can while sitting in the seat of a moving van.

Ryan rolls down the window and sticks his head out. He’s crouching on the seat, half-standing, in order to fully fit through the window. His upper body is out of the car. His arms wave and flail, making his jacket sleeves flutter even more violently in the wind.

Min starts to shout a warning, to yell about safety precautions, to give into the panic in his heart and yell get down, but the words die in his throat the minute he lays eyes on Ryan’s face.

Ryan is joyful. Euphoric. Happy. He has always been a smiley person, but times where he is truly, unadulteredly happy are rarer than you’d think. Here, riding half-outside of the van while they drive to their fame and dreams, he seems truly free.

Min smiles. God, he loves that man.

Ryan glances back, the light reflecting off his glasses, and flashes Min an adrenaline-fueled grin and a shaky thumbs up. His ankles wobble a bit. Before Min realizes what he’s doing, he reaches out and grabs Ryan for support.

Ryan’s mouth drops open in a small ‘o’. Min moves to take his hand back, but before he can, Ryan twists and reaches back inside the car to grab Min’s wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

Min freezes.

Ryan is smiling, more bashful and careful now than before. He’s still happy, but… nervous? Anxious? 

Min’s heart flutters. He manages to smile back.

“I got you,” he says, although it comes out as a whisper.

“O-oh,” Ryan whispers. His eyes are wide and soft. “I… thank you, Min.”

Min ducks his head awkwardly. “You’re welcome.”

The rest of the drive is quiet. It’s not awkward, but it’s not as comfortable and natural as it usually would be.

Something has changed.

Min grips the wheel tighter and stares down the road, for a lack of real target. If looks could kill, the road would be up in flames. 

It’s… confusing. He’s not sure why a change in their dynamic is so upsetting and off-putting. He and Ryan have gone through so many changes over the years, and they’ve always been able to come back to themselves in the end.

Besides, it’s not like they had an argument. Or even a misunderstanding. All they did was hold onto each other to keep balance. Why does this feel so monumental?

Min chances a glance away from the road to look at Ryan. He’s curled up in the passenger seat (because Ryan seems incapable of sitting normally when he’s not driving) with his guitar. The songbook, flipped open to their latest draft, is balanced precariously on Ryan’s knee. He’s bent over to read it accurately, which must be difficult, especially in the dim light. But he seems to be managing. He’s humming softly to himself, almost too quiet for Min to catch it. As he’s focused on the road (no matter how much he wants to listen to Ryan’s ethereal yet natural and homey singing) the melody floats in and out of focus. Ryan is also plucking at his guitar, playing mostly individual notes instead of chords. It’s calming and comforting, not to mention beautiful. If Min weren’t driving, he might just fall right asleep. Even though he’s the one playing, Ryan seems drowsy as well, judging by the way he’s leaning against the back of the seat.

As they draw closer to their destination, Ryan seems to consciously shake himself into wakefulness. He sits up and puts the songbook away to focus fully on his guitar. As Min pulls off the highway and navigates the city streets, Ryan tunes his guitar and warms up. 

They run through a couple vocal exercises together, practicing harmonies and lyrics as well as warm-ups. Min is a bit shaky since he’s focused on the road, but he and Ryan know their songs by heart, and the warm-up does the job. He’s still a bit jittery as he pulls into the venue parking lot, but that’s normal. He hasn’t quite shaken his stage fright yet, but as long as he has Ryan at his side, he’s able to perform. More than that, he has fun performing.

Besides, Ryan confided in him a while back, before their first real show. “You’re not the only one with stage fright, Min,” he’d confessed. “Yeah, I love it, and the adrenaline basically cancels out the fear, but it’s still there. You just have to go for it.”

Min had felt comforted enough to perform with that, with the admission that even the seemingly-fearless Ryan Akagi, who’d always seemed more at home on a stage than at his actual home got stage fright. But then Ryan had hesitated, glanced down, and taken Min’s hand. Min’s heart had nearly stuttered to a stop in his chest. He almost missed what Ryan said next.

“Besides, it doesn’t matter if you get stage fright or not,” Ryan had said cheerfully, too cheerfully, although Min barely noticed. “All that really matters is if you enjoy what you’re doing. It’s more admirable to conquer your fear in order to chase your dreams than to not have fear.”

Min had smiled back, shaky but euphoric. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, not unlike how he felt onstage. “That’s very profound.”

Ryan had laughed and squeezed his hand. “Eh, I have a lot of experience. Listen to me, I’m the master!”

The mood subtly shifted with the joke, and suddenly they were laughing and Ryan let go of his hand and they were pushing the synthesizer on stage and it was all a blur from there until the curtain went down and Ryan was squealing and hugging him and picking him up and screaming We did it! You did it!

What a first show.

Min shakes himself back to reality and pulls into the venue parking lot. Ryan jumps out of the van before Min is fully parked, despite Min’s loud protests. He rolls his eyes and lets Ryan run ahead anyway.

While Ryan gets checked in with the manager, Min parks and unloads Barold and the rest of their equipment (which is pretty much just Barold now, since Ryan took his guitar with him in his haste). He heads inside, he and Ryan set up, and then they’re standing onstage behind a lowered curtain, waiting in darkness and silence for their cue.

Suddenly, Ryan turns around and flashes Min a thumbs-up and a bright smile. It’s more jerky and jittery than usual, probably because of the nerves and adrenaline. He seems a little more on edge today, though. 

“We’re gonna do great!” Ryan promises, grinning.

Min smiles back. “We’re gonna do rad,” he replies. The tension between them dissipates, and the curtain goes up. Ryan turns toward the crowd, beaming his particular I’m-on-stage-but-I’m-really-enjoying-myself smile, and greets them. The crowd goes wild.

Energy floods Min’s body, and he grins back at the crowd. Ryan counts them off, and they burst into their opening number with the power and passion it requires. The crowd screams, but Min can barely hear them over the music and Ryan’s voice.

He’s living. Far more than he ever was before.

They both are.

--

After the show is a blur of chatting with audience members, grabbing something to eat, and scheduling another show. By the time they head to the hotel, Min’s exhausted. But he dutifully puts all the equipment in their hotel room and locks up the van before he collapses into bed.

Ryan is already in their room when Min comes in. He’s sitting on the bed, facing away from the door, with his hands on his lap. Most striking is the absence of his guitar. Ryan may have been playing all day, but it’s rare for him to be without his instrument and yet so still like this.

Ryan, to his core, is always moving. Even when he’s not physically moving, he’s always singing, humming, thinking. Yet now, he sits in absolute stillness.

“Ryan?” Min whispers. His voice is quieter than he intended, but Ryan jumps at it all the same.

When he turns, he’s smiling disarmingly, but it’s too wide and shaky to be natural. Ryan may have convinced someone else with that expression, but Min knows him too well to be fooled.

Min strides into the room with three short steps, locking the door behind him. He stops in front of Ryan, so close their knees are almost brushing. Ryan blushes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I- Nothing.” Ryan won’t meet his gaze.

Min scowls. “Come on, Ryan. Aren’t we past this? Didn’t the train teach us not to do all this not-talking crap?”

Ryan flinches. “I- Sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’m just… thinking.”

“About what?” Min finally moves, stepping around Ryan to sit on the bed beside him. He takes care to keep his voice soft and gentle. He doesn’t want to scare Ryan again. Whatever’s going on seems to have him skittish all of a sudden.

Ryan bites his lip. “Min, I… you know I care about you, right?”

Min blinks, surprised. “Of course I do.” Hesitantly, he reaches out to take Ryan’s hand, running his thumb over Ryan’s knuckles. “I care about you too.”

Ryan blushes. His cheeks are nearly scarlet right now. Min’s a bit too tired to unpack that all on his own right now, but he knows it means something. It spurs him on, gives him a burst of courage and energy in the adrenaline crash phase after a show. “I’m glad we’re-” He’s about to say friends, but the word dies on his lips. Suddenly, it feels all wrong, but he can’t put his finger on why.

Slowly, Ryan turns to face him. His eyes are wide and anxious, his lips slightly parted, but there’s a set determination in him that shows in his face. He reaches out to take Min’s other hand, and… leans in closer.

Min finds himself leaning in simultaneously. Soon they’re close enough Min can feel Ryan’s breath on his lips. It’s hot in more ways than one.

Oh. Oh.

So that’s why today, Ryan’s hand on his wrist, the trusting and yet shocked expression of his, felt so weird and so right at the same time.

Their eyes meet. A silent exchange passes between them.

Do you want to do this?

Yes. Do you?

Yes.

If asked after, Min couldn’t say if he initiated it or if Ryan did.

All he knows is the gap between them is now nonexistent, and Ryan’s lips are on his, and suddenly it’s everything he’s ever wanted.

The kiss is slow. Hesitant. Exploring new territory, figuring out boundaries. But it’s not awkward.

No, they are Ryan and Min, Min and Ryan, Chicken Choice Judy, and they have come much too far to be awkward. They’ve been building towards this moment since they first met, even if they didn’t know it.

It feels like a found puzzle piece of himself Min didn’t even realize he was missing. Now, he is complete. Now, they are complete.

Now, they are both truly living their lives to the fullest.

~

this fic is just: *headcanon* *headcanon* *headcanon* *hea-

oh man i almost didn't finish this one in time. it's still the 12th here, though (by a couple hours!), so i'm good! it's hard to write a full one-shot every day, but i've already come farther than i thought i would! i told myself i would finish this today, and i did! i also told myself i would finish the week and my remaining prompts, and i will. :)

title is from new days by dreamcatcher. that's the second time i've used it as a title but the last one was for a zine fic so i can get away with using it here, lol. i really love that song, so that's why. the lyrics translation are absolutely nothing like this, but for some reason it gives off road trip vibes (at least to me), so it works really well for this particular piece!

okay confession time: i think this is the first kiss scene i've ever written lol. i was writing it and i was like "hey wait a minute i have no clue what i'm doing have i done this before??? i don't think so???" it didn't help that i didn't intend to write a kiss scene, but i got to the place where i'd intended to end it and it felt like the natural progression. i'm gonna go research good kiss writing after this. i would've done it while i was writing, but i didn't want to post this any later than i had to

i have a bunch of infinity train snippets and wips i wrote right after book 4 aired and my interest in the show peaked, and i really thought i had something that would fit well for off the train but i guess i didn't?? maybe i just daydreamed it and never actually penned it skfhksl. so i was kind of flying by the seat of my pants for this one. i think it's my favorite of rymin week so far though! it was also the most fun to write. i really love introspective pieces. ryan and min off the train, after their relationship is repaired, when they're in a much better place and truly happy with each other, is also my favorite time in their lives to explore. they're so much happier and healthier, and they can truly start to explore themselves and realize their dreams.

if you have a piano or something on hand you should play the d and g notes together. they sound heavenly. in choir two years ago we had that chord and i have never forgotten it because i love it so much.

if you ever wanna talk infinity train, writing, these amazing characters, or really anything hmu here on my tumblr or twitter! thank you for reading, and please leave a reblog/like/comment if you enjoyed it!

@ryminweek

#infinity train #rymin #rymin week 2021 #rymin week #ryminweek2021 #ryan akagi #min-gi park #min gi park #mingi park #wavey writes #infinity train fanfiction #infinity train ryan #infinity train rymin #infinity train min #infinity train min-gi #infinity train mingi #infinity train min gi #ryan infinity train #min infinity train #min-gi infinity train #min gi infinity train #ryan x min

[dreamiesdotcom]

rule #6 | l.dh

Summary: With Donghyuck, growing to love feels like a black hole, but not the depressing kind. Rather, it's something hard to get away from — like a force, a very strong force that allows no escape, and it's incredibly luminous as if going supernova.

Word Count: 3.5k

a/n: hi, this is moon from somewhere august, scheduling this post before i chicken out again :D by the time it's posted, it's already Christmas so,,, merry christmas y'all who celebrate!!!! Lots of love!!!

Just like most things involving Donghyuck, falling in love with him isn't such a good idea.

That was way too sped up, though. The best way to start this story, of course, is from the very beginning— the day human migraine number one (a.k.a Jaemin) decided to bring in evil genius Huang Renjun to the circle. That would've been fine. It just so happened that beside him sat the devil incarnate, Lee Donghyuck, and that, well, is totally all four directions far away from what's acceptable.

Rule number one to surviving this life thing: Never trust cute boys with sunshine smiles and mischief in their eyes, a.k.a Donghyuck, or Haechan, whatever name he decided to go by. That's why when he reaches his hands out over the table to your direction, you quickly dismiss his attempt — "Hi! I haven't met you yet, did you skip first period? You're Y/N, ri—"

"Please never speak to me." was your reply then, and human migraine number two (a.k.a Chenle) laughs. Jaemin nags for the rest of the break, talking about manners and getting along. The fools nod alongside him. You grumble, moody for no reason and feeling particularly mean, but you warmly smile at Mark when he arrives at your table. Somewhere along the lines, you met stares with the new boy, and you give him an indifferent look.

Donghyuck took the nonchalance as a challenge.

###

The following weeks have been infuriating.

Rule #2: At all times, seek Lee Jeno's company. Unreliable as he seems when it comes to patience, the boy is quite reasonable sometimes.

Your windows align with the sweet-faced boy, your roofs almost touching — if you tried hard enough, you two could sit together, side by side, just like this. Cold wind blows, but it doesn't make you shiver. Jeno's warm, and maybe that's why you love cuddling with him so much. Maybe.

Just maybe, that could be the reason.

"I can't hear what you're saying," he slowly says, laughter seeping through his lips. You whine at that, moving away so he could see you and you could speak clearly. His hand remains holding your chin up, endearing in a soft way, but it doesn't wash away your frown. "What were you saying?"

You groan, "I said, he's so annoying! The audacity, Lee Jeno, he had the audacity to call me ba—"

Jeno watches you with tender eyes. Your heart softens, and you forget whatever next words you had to say. Maybe things will be okay? He's here, after all. Just right next door.

At least, something is going right.

###

This new boy, it seems, is appealing to many. During his first week, people have constantly trying to 'show him around', and that excuse doesn't die down until one month. From then on, people just keep following him around with "Good morning, Haechan!", "Goodbye, Haechan!" and "How was the weekends for you, Haechan-ssi?"

To be honest, it's something you had to grow used to even way before the showed up. Having Na Jaemin and Mark Lee from the Basketball team in your circle just really has a way of putting the spotlight on your lunch table. Not to mention, Renjun, Jeno, and Jisung, who despite being quiet, just has a certain charm to them — Jaemin's words, not yours. And oh, don't even get started on Chenle. That boy is a social butterfly.

The difference is that he keeps entertaining them, unlike the others who awkwardly laughs or just greets back — safe to say that sometimes, the 'goodness' of his heart gets in the way of your education and daily life. Times just like this.

Jisung's name shines brightly at the top of the list. You cling to the boy excitedly, pinching his cheeks and slightly bouncing on your heels, "You made it on the dance team, Sungie! Oh my God, oh my Go—"

"Y/N..." he drawls out, both hands resting on your shoulder as if to calm you down, but the excitement in his eyes betrays his intentions. On the other side, Renjun waves at you with the others. It makes you chuckle, and you motion for them come — that is, of course, until someone pushes you, almost sending you to the ground if not for Jisung catching you midfall.

The girl furrows her brows, "Move, you're blocking the way."

Your palms itch at that moment, and you couldn't believe just what you heard — the nerve!

"Where's your manners?" rings Donghyuck's voice from where he's slowly making way towards you with the others, a grimace on each of their faces. Attitude seeps from his gaze, the kind that would've made someone quiver. "Don't go around pushing people."

"Wh—"

"Stop." you clench your hands to fists, thanking Jisung before straightening up. Through gritted teeth, you calmly look at the girl with a scowl on her face. "Look, I'm sorry, but can you politely ask me to move next time? That's be appreciated, thank you."

After bidding the others a small smile, you turn around to make your way to the library. What? For peace? For space? Just to be as far away from the boy following you right now as possible? You don't even know at this point. You feel like your celebration is ruined and all you want is distance from the person you dislike the most — to be honest, you don't know anything about him aside from the fact that he's Lee Donghyuck and that he's annoying, and that you automatically hate him. You don't plan on knowing more. That's why before entering the library, you turn around to face him with a solemn look.

"Thank you." he halts in shock. His smile widens, but you look at him with the same seriousness in your face. "But don't do it again. I don't need saving, Lee Donghyuck."

Later that night, you grit your teeth as you write down another rule: Say your gratitude but don't get used to the way he saves you. You're not a damsel. Just hand the goddamn sword or you'll be fine with your fists — maybe your eyes for daggers, too.

####

Rule #3: Never go to him for comfort.

22nd of April, 10:35 p.m. You close your eyes and wait. The clock hits eleven and you open the door for the others, greeting everyone with a cheerful smile. "Where's Jaemin?"

Mark shrugs, "Said he has an essay. He'll be late for a bit, but he'll make it before 12."

23rd of April, 12:00 a.m, your heartbeat races. Everything's all set, everyone's in the living room. You take out your phone with a giggle, typing out 'Happy Birthday, dummy!!!' with the biggest grin on your face. Jisung judges you slightly, but he quickly forgets it when a taunting yell from Renjun comes. You sit in the kitchen, staring at the delicately decorated cake, and you wait.

One hour turns to two, then three. Your smile fades slightly, and you check your phone for replies. When nothing comes, you click over his contact shakily.

To: Star <3

Happy Birthday, dummy!!!

Hey, Jen? You're one door away from me and yet you're an hour late.

Birthday boy, you're not ditching us on your own celebration, aren't ya?

When are you coming over ;-;

From: Star <3

I'm sorry!!!

Sorry but I'll be late!

Jaeminnie really needs my help with something.

We'll be there! I'm sorry, Y/N

Your smile disappears. Sullenly making your way to the living room, you count your steps to keep your ground. You look at the others in front of you with a smile, "Go start the movie, I'll wait for Jeno and Jaemin outside. Deal?"

"Sure." Chenle chirps, his grin never fading. Must be because of cheating his way through besting Jisung, Donghyuck, Mark, and Renjun at Monopoly for the past three hours, probably ruining their friendship. Oblivious to the world, Renjun grumbles something about Jeno never being punctual, that he'd pray that trait onto him as a birthday gift. You glance at them before heading back outside, sitting down outside your door, head in between your knees.

A tear. Maybe two. Is this how heartbreak feels like? The kind of crying where you can't even make a sound because people could hear, but then even your teardrops seem to be so loud.

The door opens and you put your head up, hurriedly wiping them away. You put on your best smile until Donghyuck occupies the space beside you. He hands you a handkerchief.

"Don't," he whispers when you obviously hold down a sob, and he leans you on his chest. You cry freely there — you don't know why you let him of all people, but all you know was that you couldn't think straight; desperation blooms on your chest like fresh flowers die over time, and he doesn't judge. He just holds you — no cheesy pet name, no flirty looks, no catch. Just someone to be with.

At 4 a.m with Lee Donghyuck, the starless sky and the moon all alone looks a little less lonely. In front of you, the sun begins to rise.

##

Rule #4: Aaaaand if you don't follow the preceding rule, then, you're fucked. This is your mess. Good luck, you're alone on this one.

After Jeno's birthday (and after he made up to you, he spent a month doing that.) something just begins to change. A pleasant shift, according to Mark.

From that day, something in you says that maybe, just maybe, he's not so bad and you were just unfair to him. This realization must be something brought by time; slowly, you got used to Renjun and Hyuck being a part of your circle. These tutoring sessions must be a factor as well, judging how to two get to spend time alone in the same table as you can't possibly study with the others around you.

Donghyuck would do anything to evade mathematics, though. At least that's what it looks like right now, as he doodles around the margins instead of solving the problems, and then opens a topic, "Nana and Jisung looks cute together. Should've known they wouldn't be serious with each other, him and Jeno."

You roll your eyes, but not the way you did back then. It's way softer, much more affectionate. "It's been a year, let them be."

"So what? It's only been a year." he seems really determined to waste time. He even makes a show of briefly making eye contact before pouting at the paper, "You and Jeno still pretend to be just friends, but the whole school's just waiting for you two to kiss."

You chuckle, "We don't."

"You do."

"Used to." you correct. You look over to the other table, Jaemin and Jeno throwing a banter while Jisung begs them to stop before Renjun smacks them all with a book. You gaze down the notes you're studying before shrugging, "Things change."

"Example?" he tentatively asks, absentmindedly tracing the letters and numbers scattered around his notebook. You rest your chin on your palm.

"Well, now, I might like you." because honestly, you do. He's a great company, although sometimes overwhelming and annoying. Especially that most of the time when he's with Jaemin, they brew the worst ideas together and it's pretty much storm from there.

It would be a lie to say that it's not one of the things that makes you feel warm, slowly growing fond. Your voice softens as he tilts up to meet your gaze, and you flash him a saccharine smile. "Soon, it might not be because you're my friend."

Things like this make you feel like you've missed everything with Jeno, all the things you both could've had; it's like you should've been like this. It's like you should've been holding hands, or walking down the streets, or sitting on a rooftop and asking for a kiss. The kind that would send a rush of energy on your veins, shaking you back to life, losing you to the dream that is the way his lips move against you. But best friends don't do that, so you don't.

Hyuck is not Jeno, though. He's not your best friend.

With Donghyuck, growing to love feels like a black hole, but not the depressing kind. Rather, it's something hard to get away from — like a force, a very strong force that allows no escape, and it's incredibly luminous as if going supernova.

###

Rule #5: Well, seems like you can't back out now. Love him. Love him so much that the sunshine in his eyes never fades.

"Why are we celebrating Mark's last day in town?" Donghyuck sits down in the living room, looking around at the place — balloons, snacks, a cake, everyone in your friend group. He sets down his gift, "Are we that glad that he's leaving?"

Mark huffs, "You'd fucking cry once you miss me and I'm cities away, Lee Donghyuck."

"I won't miss you because I'm coming over to your dorm every day and I'm dragging everyone with me." Donghyuck smiles and even when Mark shoves him a little at that, everyone knows that he's happy the younger said that. He flashes his sly smile, "You, however... ah, what do we do? Mark might miss me so much he fails three subjects."

Everyone cackles at that, and Mark only raises his arms at surrender, saying something about not joking like that because he's honestly 'terrified to start hell', wanting to just stay here and finish school with all of you, ranting about how troublesome it is to transfer. You lean back on your loveseat, lightly kicking Hyuck's feet. "What?"

"You talk like this but you'd sulk tomorrow, wouldn't you?" You taunt, snickering. "This is false advertising."

Donghyuck gapes as the others fall over laughing. "Oi, are you trying to help me fill out all the ten reasons I hate you?"

"You have only ten for me?" you add, and for some reason, that makes the others laugh harder. "I have a hundred for you, Hyuckie."

"I could write you thousands—"

Jeno scrunches his face, hands moving to cover Donghyuck's mouth. "Just please go kiss each other."

Donghyuck tears away from his hold, rolls his eyes, and waves goodbye. He tugs you away from Jaemin and then leads you upstairs, but not before one last banter with Jeno, who, in his all confused expression, tilts his head in question, "Ya, where are you going?"

"I'm not kissing Y/N in front of you fools."

And true to his word, that's what he does.

Donghyuck smiles like the world is kind, like unending unconditional love, without boundaries nor fears. He kisses like that, too, passionate and deep. He does it like it's the end of the world, as if it's the only thing he wants to do. He does it like he's thanking every single thing that led him up to this moment. He kissed you under those stars in his balcony, a hand warm on your waist with the other softly caressing your jaw, and it seemed like it lasted forever.

Because that's the truth. The last time never feels like the last time. There had to be more to this than what the skies have laid down.

Inside your dreamy little mind, Donghyuck was eternal and the love you shared was forever. That's what happened. You thought you had forever.

You thought you had forever, but you didn't.

###

Rule #6: But that won't make him stay if he's bound to leave. Accept that and love him, still. Love him through the rain.

"Lee Jeno tripped!" yells Chenle's loud voice, gaining the attention of everybody in the room, "And fell in love with Y/N, totally whipped that they can't even shop separately!"

"Hell, Chenle, where's your mute button?" Renjun hissed, "We gotta buy presents too. Who decided to do this so late, though? It's the 24th! You guys should've done it weeks ago!"

"Let's go?" Jeno asks, blatantly ignoring Renjun as he waits for you to take his hands. You smirk, waving the folded paper to the others after entwining fingers with him.

"Bye, losers! See y'all later~" you wink. Before being dragged out the Cafe, you point at your friends' direction "Whoever had my name better give me a decent gift, or Christmas is cancelled!"

"Baby, stop that," he asks, squeezing your hands to make you calm down. Your laugh even louder. He smiles, "Who did you get?"

"Hey, Lee, you don't get special treatment just because I'm dating you. It's a secret." you roll your eyes, a skip in your step even though the weather is cold. Jeno steals a peck on your cheeks, and your eyes widen. "Lee Jeno!"

Before you could even catch him, he's already running away from you, and you're almost falling over laughing as you try to catch up to him. He meets you at the end, in front of a busy mall, and catches you with a hug. You laugh on his chest, warm against his hold.

If memories come washing over you, no one has to know. Jeno looks lovely against white. He feels like art on a Christmas day, so beautiful and warm and special. That's all that matters.

"We agreed that we wouldn't try..." Donghyuck whispers, arms around you, "if things will get too harsh on the other, didn't we?"

"Yeah... if I was to leave, Hyuck, I don't want you waiting on me." you responded, half-asleep and sincere, "But I'm only saying it because I'm not leaving."

Donghyuck laughed, "Well, just making sure that if that happens, we'll meet again, yeah?"

"Hyuck, shut up. Nobody's leaving." you groaned, stirring at the joyful yelling downstairs. "Looks like it's 12 already. Merry Christmas, baby."

"Mhm, Merry Christmas. I love you." He smiles, leaves a slow, gentle kiss on your lips. "I love you. I'll love you even more this year."

Does moving away without a word count as loving someone more than you did the past year?

"You're spacing out." Jeno smiles, "Am I that handsome?"

"You always are. Stunning." you quickly reply, a little guilty. You enter the busy room and part ways so that you could shop for your gifts, but not before deciding on a meeting point and leaving a sweet, loving kiss. "Come back, yeah?"

"Of course." he nods before parting ways. Your heart remains at peace — as planned, at the end of the day, Jeno would come back to you at the entrance. He won't leave like the other did. He won't do that to you...

Two hours before Christmas, you sit down on your own for a bit, occasionally distracted by the noise. At their loudness, you can make out Mark trying to calm everybody down, Jaemin threatening murder to keep Jisung and Mark away from the kitchen, Jeno convincing Chenle to get a dog. As you write down their yearly letters, you can't get rid of the smile on your face.

Why they decided to spend this holiday at yours, you don't really understand. Can't say you're against it, though. It's perfect; the tree all of you built together, the presents, the games you'll spend the night playing. The friendship.

Only that someone's missing. As if to lessen the pain, you write his name down on the paper — except it's not a new one, but rather, the page you've been foolishly writing your rules on; the rules that never stood a chance to save you. You trace your hands over the words, but you quickly shake nostalgia away as you turn the page over.

Hello, Donghyuck-ah!

You know the drill. For some time, you received some of my letters, didn't you? After all, we spent some years together... as enemies, as friends, as lovers. You probably memorized how it goes: I'll dwell on the year, I'll tell you how I chose your gift, I'll try to say how much I adore you, and then I'll thank you for being here.

Unfortunately this time, I can't tell you how our year went... I didn't spend it with you. I wasn't able to get you a gift, too, because I don't know if your preferences changed. And I can't thank you for being here. I can't because you're not.

Though I could still tell you that I love you, now it's kind of different. It's less of something that desperately needs you, and more of the kind that longs for you. Jeno and I got together at last. It's complicated how we happened, but we gave it a try and... just. That. You won't read this, but I still want you to know... even if this will never reach you.

Remember that we said that we'll meet again? Well, where are you? Are you happy? How's life been, miles away from home, from your friends, Hyuck-ah?

Merry Christmas. I hope you're happy.

I hope you are, of course, I do. I want you to be happy, I do. I can't wish for anything more — I want you to be happy... just that I hope you're sad sometimes, too, just like me... because of me. I want your heart to break sometimes too. I want you to cry sometimes too. In those empty spaces, I want you to remember me.

And I know you won't do any of that, but in my twisted imagination, you do. And you are.

You're the happiest you could be, but not that much — not happy enough that you'd forget me.

#nct dream #nct 127 #nct u #lee donghyuck #haechan #lee jeno #nct fanfic #nct christmas au #nct dream x reader #nct dream timestamps #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct dream reactions #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 reaction #nct 127 scenarios #nct au #nct u scenarios #haechan x reader #haechan scenarios #haechan angst #nct angst #merry Christmas y'all:D

[gukyi]

ice prince (post-script) | jjk

summary: you travel the world together as the country’s favorite ice dancing couple and celebrity romance, but you can’t help but wonder what the future has in store for you and jungkook. 

{established relationship!au, ice skating!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff word count: 1k warnings: none a/n: thank you to @sopseokjin​ for commissioning this piece and donating to the #blacklivesmatter movement!! i had so much fun revisiting the ice prince couple. if you remember me writing the entire 22k fic in 4 days, you qualify for a veterans’ discount.

There is something different about hotel windows. 

They’re always enormous, always spanning the size of the wall, a big Plexiglass screen separating you from the world outside. They always come with two curtains, a semi-transparent one that lets you see into other people’s rooms, and a thick one with the pattern of an old wallpaper or vintage couch. 

And they always make you feel as though you’re both looking out into a sea of lights, into a city slowly beginning to fall asleep, and as if you were trapped inside, the window being your only source of contact. 

It’s no wonder you always find yourself staring out of it, wrapped in a white robe after hopping out of the shower, a long day of competing and skating behind you. Normally, you’d soak your feet in the bathtub as well, letting the water wash away of the soreness, but you feel quite light tonight. 

You gaze out into the city, looking over the roofs of buildings, over the air vents and grey cement that covers all of the skyscrapers that surround you. The yellow glows in the top-floor windows of the buildings are your stars tonight, lighting up an otherwise empty navy blue sky. It’s such a shame that there isn’t a cloud in the sky, and yet you cannot see a single star. Your window doesn’t even face the moon. 

“A penny for your thoughts?”

You look up to see Jungkook standing behind you in the reflection of the glass, soft brown hair tousled and messy, like he just got out of the shower and let it dry as is. He’s wearing an old shirt from your home rink and some shorts. Comfort clothes. 

“Just looking out the window,” you tell him, letting him come over and watching your reflection as he wraps his arms around you, swaying softly. 

“It’s pretty,” Jungkook meets your eyes in the window. 

“Is it weird that, no matter what city we go to, I always feel the same when I look out the window?”

Jungkook pauses for a moment, then says, “No. I feel it, too.”

Does he? 

Does he feel the way that even if the world changes you feel as though your place in it has remained stagnant? Feel like you’re trapped repeating the same few days over and over and over again? Ice skating is perhaps one of your truest passions in life, something that you seldom dread doing despite all of the injuries over the years. But it is as though you do not exist without your skates. That your sense of belonging is defined by being on the rink rather than off of it. 

You wouldn’t know who you are without ice skating. It’s brought you so much joy, so much love. It carried you to Jungkook. 

“I shouldn’t be complaining.” you say with a shake of your head, pulling yourself out of his grasp and settling down on the side of the bed. The sheets are tucked into the bed frame so tightly you’re half convinced that they might rip if you pull them any further. “We get to go to so many nice places and stay in fancy hotel rooms and skate for a living.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t find negatives in what we do,” Jungkook says with his eyebrows turned down as he joins you on the bed. “You can be grateful and critical of things at the same time.”

“I just feel like…” you sigh, unable to find the right words. You aren’t by any means discontented with your life, with what you get to do. Every morning you wake up and look forward to what the day has to offer, look forward to tugging on your skates and getting onto the ice, look forward to seeing Namjoon and Hoseok and Taehyung and, especially Jungkook. “Like we’ll be stuck doing this forever.”

“You know that’s not true,” Jungkook tells you, reaching out to take your hand in his own. He strokes the back of it with his thumb, calloused fingers pressing against your skin. “We can dp whatever we want with our lives.”

“I don’t really know what I want,” you admit. You’ve always been rather indecisive. It is one of your greatest flaws. 

“You don’t have to know,” Jungkook assures you. He has always been so driven, so focused. He looks to the future fondly, rather than in fear. His heart guides him through each and every day, and even if he makes a mistake he knows it will never steer him in the wrong direction. “You just have to see where life takes you.”

You turn to him, watch his eyes grow bigger as they stare into yours. “Where do you want life to take you? When this is all over, what do you want to do?” When younger skaters far more talented than you will usurp you, will achieve far more complex jumps and challenging lifts, effectively sending you on a slow decline out of the top leagues. When the spotlight will no longer shine on you, lighting up your path on the ice, when no more medals will hang around your neck and no more trophies will be placed into your hands. 

“I’m not sure,” Jungkook says. “I’ve always wanted to learn piano.”

“You can do that now,” you remind him. 

“Not with our schedules, I can’t,” he says. 

“There’s a piano in the lobby,” you remember. It’s an upright, nothing too fancy, but no staff seems to play it and barely anybody spares it a second glance. “You can try.”

“Maybe some other time,” Jungkook says with a laugh, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. You’re still facing the window, but it’s different when you’re sitting down, further away from it. Like you’re watching a late-night movie. Like you’re not a part of the scene at all. “I’d also coach, maybe. Like Namjoon and Hoseok, I think that’d be fun.”

Ice skating will never leave him.

“You think we’ll still be together after all of this?” You ask. It’s a weird, hopeful sort of ask. Like you hope he says yes even if the odds are against it. There’s a part of you that fears, that has always feared, that ice skating was your only link, the only thing keeping you connected. You would not have known Jungkook without skating, and you know him now as someone who is just like you. But what will happen when all of that ends?

You feel the way Jungkook sits up straighter, feel how he stiffens, making you look up at him. It’s an honest, candid question. What does the future hold for the two of you? Is there even one to begin with?

“What do you mean?” He asks. “Of course I do.” A pause. “Do you… not?”

“No!” You tell him. There is nothing you fear more than being away from him, than losing the last part of your life that preserves what little personality you have left. “I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I just—I wasn’t sure.”

Jungkook reaches his other arm out, both of your hands wrapped up in his own, and he squeezes tightly, making you look at him. He’s got that steely, certain look to him, the same determination you see right before a competition performance. 

“I don’t know what goes on in that head of yours,” he begins, “but you have nothing to worry about. Not about ice skating, or competitions, or our future, or me. Because I love you, and I’m proud of you, and I know that whatever you end up doing will be beautiful and meaningful to all of the people whose lives you have touched. And I will always stand by your side, even when we stop skating, even when we are cranky coaches, and even when we are old and lazy.”

The words are music to your ears. A soft smile draws itself on your face, and he lifts a hand up to press it under your chin, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your lips. It’s incredible, what he makes you feel. 

“I’ll marry you, one day,” he promises. “And we can live wherever you want. We can have cats and dogs and plants and, maybe one day, we can have kids too.” 

“If we do have kids, I hope they don’t inherit your ego,” you tease, making him laugh. 

“No,” Jungkook says, shaking his head. “They’ll inherit my devilish good looks, instead.” You giggle, and Jungkook shuts you up with another kiss, taking away all of the breath in your lungs, making your skin tingle. “I love you, did you know that?”

You grin. You did, but you love hearing the words anyway. “I love you, too.”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget i’m still taking commissions!

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #bts au #jungkook au #w: ice prince

[writerofthecourt]

fuyu no hanashi

pairing: semi eita x reader

summary: semi sings a song dedicated to you. a story of loss, anguish, and regrets

warning: slight time skip spoilers, character death, grief and mourning, subtle reference to alcoholism

a/n: i’ve been wanting to write something like this for a very long time, and i’m really happy with how it turned out. this story was inspired by the anime/manga given, specifically a scene from episode 9 of the anime. here’s the particular scene that i’m referencing (beware, the clip does contain plot spoilers for given). i’ve never written for semi before, so i hope i did him justice

Cheers erupted from all around the bar as the band’s leader and vocalist hit the final note of the song, signalling the end of the show. However, this did very little to kill off the enthusiasm of the fans, as they all chanted in unison for one more song.

“One more song, one more song!”

Semi gasped for breath, feeling his body almost running on empty after nearly two hours of intense guitar playing. He looked to his band’s leader to see if he would go through with the crowd’s request.

After catching his breath, the leader turned to Semi, eyeing him seriously as if to ask him if he could really do it. Semi bit his lip, tightening the grip around the neck of his guitar in anxiousness.

Could he do it? He had never once sung on stage since the band’s inception, settling instead to blend into the background and jam out on his guitar. It wasn’t like he couldn’t sing, but there was only ever one person that he sang for, and well…

“I love hearing you sing, Eita. You have a lovely voice.”

Releasing a sigh of nerves, Semi nodded his head. The leader grinned and shot him a subtle thumbs up before grabbing the microphone to address the audience. “If another song’s what you want, then another song’s what you’ll get!”

Once again, the crowd erupted into whoops and hollers as their excitement reverberated all throughout the walls of the bar.

“But,” everyone quickly turned to silence after that, “the one who’ll be singing is Semi over here.”

Hushed noises of confusion soon rang out as the leader grabbed Semi by the arm and gently pushed him towards the front of the stage where the microphone stood. Rushing backstage, the leader quickly grabbed his own guitar, which he had hidden away in its case. While he enjoyed the spotlight that came with being the band’s lead vocalist, he didn’t mind playing back-up guitar every now and then.

Once everyone was in position, Semi nervously glanced into the darkness of the bar. Although he couldn’t see their stares, Semi could feel the looks of judgement, anticipation, and curiosity all directed on him as he took a hold of the microphone stand.

“Ehhh, did Sato strain his throat or something?”

“I’ve never heard Semi sing before, I’m so excited!”

“Can Semi even sing?”

Of course I can sing, Semi internally scoffed. I wouldn’t be up here if I couldn’t.

Tapping the microphone to quiet everyone down, Semi opened his mouth to speak. “Uh, hey. I know I’m usually not up here, but I wanted to sing you guys a song that’s close to my heart.”

Pausing for a moment to collect himself, Semi took a deep breath before continuing. “I wrote this song for someone close to me. She’s not here to listen to it now, but I hope it still reaches her.”

Turning to his bandmates to indicate that he was ready, every one of them shot him an encouraging smile. He wobbly returned their smiles and turned his attention back on to the audience.

“This song is called ‘Winter’s Story.’ I hope you all like it.”

Tapping his drumsticks together, the band’s drummer counted down to the song.

One, two, three-

“Wow, Eita, that was great!” Clapping your hands together, you smiled at your boyfriend as he came to the end of his impromptu performance.

Semi chuckled at the pure joy and adoration shining from your eyes as he set his guitar down back into its case and made himself comfortable onto the chair next to your bed.

In the small and quaint confines of your hospital room, the only noises that could be heard were the monotonous beeps of your heart monitor and the light footsteps of nurses quietly patrolling the hallways outside of your door.

The glow of the setting sun indicated that the dark winter night was fast approaching, and with it, visiting hours would soon be over. Although Semi hated this fact, he couldn’t deny how beautiful you looked as the casting rays of the sun gave your face an angelic shimmer to it.

Even though you denied his claims of beauty on most days, with your skin being reduced to an abnormally sickly tone and needles and wires prodding away at your arm, Semi was always quick to rebuttal all of this. Even in this state, you were still an absolute goddess to him. From the first day he had met you, Semi always thought you were the most beautiful girl he knew.

“So, how long did it take you to write that song?” you asked after a moment of silence.

“Hmmm,” he paused to think about it, “a few days? I just thought about you, and it all came to me.”

Laughing at his poor attempt at flirting, you gave your boyfriend a playful push on the shoulder. “Well, aren’t you a smooth one, Mr. Musician.”

“Only for you, pretty lady,” Semi quipped back with a smirk.

You both chuckled as your conversation soon fell into a quiet and comfortable lull. Semi took to gently holding your hand, while you simply stared out at the large single window that occupied your room, watching in awe as the previously orange sky painted itself black and snowflakes began to fall.

“So-” “I-”

Both you and Semi stared at each other in surprise and amusement before you prompted for him to go first.

“I have some really exciting news about the band,” he informed you.

Seeing you curiously tilt your head, Semi took this as a sign to tell you the news. “There’s this really popular bar, Submariner. It’s located downtown next to all of these other trendy bars and clubs.”

Letting out a hum to indicate that you were listening, Semi said, “Well, the owner of the place saw one of our videos online and sent us an email to ask if we wanted to play a show at the bar next week!”

Pausing for a second to process this new information, you almost jumped out of your bed once you had registered Semi’s words. You let out a cry of joy as you reached up to wrap your arms around your boyfriend’s neck. You almost felt yourself burst into tears at his accomplishment. You were so proud of him.

“Eita, that’s amazing! It’s what you and the guys have always wanted!” you exclaimed. “This is your dream!”

Semi laughed, wrapping his arms around you as he felt tears in his own eyes at your genuine happiness and reaction. He pulled you close, finding comfort in the beating of your heart and the warmth of your body. They were all reminders that you were here, that you were alive.

“Yeah, it’s our first live gig, so everyone’s really excited,” he said while tracing the curve of your back. “We’re even working on a new song right now to play as our opening act.”

“When are you guys playing?” you peeked out from his chest.

“Hmm, next Friday night on the eighteenth,” he responded. “Why?”

He didn’t notice how your body stilled. “O-oh, um, just asking. I wanted to tell my parents so that they could go down there and record you guys.”

Semi hummed. “Even if you’re not there, I’ll always be thinking about you, okay?”

“You’re so lame,” you teased, giving him a peck on the cheek as you made yourself comfortable again on the bed.

“Yeah, whatever,” he conceded as a blush coloured his face. “Anyways, what about you, [Y/N]? Didn’t you want to tell me something too?”

“Y-yeah. I just wanted to tell you that the surgery date hasn’t been decided yet,” you nervously chewed on your lips, “I-I’m a little bit scared just thinking about it, if I’m being honest.”

“[Y/N],” Semi began seriously, taking a hold of your hand. “You’re the strongest person I know. Your doctor said that you’re getting better every day, so you have a high chance of surviving the operation. You’ll make it through this, and I’ll be beside you every step of the way.”

Stunned by his words, your mind was quickly put at ease by Semi’s reassurance. Showing your appreciation, you sent him a sincere smile, the one that got his heart pumping and his mind racing. The one that made him fall in love with you all over again. The one he wanted to wake up every morning to, and the one that he couldn’t live without.

“I know, Eita,” you whispered emotionally. “I love you.”

He smiled back at you. “I love you too.”

The sweet moment was soon interrupted by a soft knock at your door. The nurse in charge of your care sheepishly smiled as she entered into your room with a cart full of medical equipment and pills.

“[L/N]-san, visiting hours are over,” she announced. “I’m also here to check your vitals and administer your medicine.”

Semi sighed, disappointed and knowing that this moment would come sooner or later. Packing up his things, Semi hitched his guitar case onto his shoulder and went over to place a tender kiss on your forehead.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Call me, all right?” he warned, though there was no real seriousness behind his eyes.

Heading for the door, he bowed to the nurse and thanked her for taking such good care of you. The nurse simply brushed him off, saying that it was her job to take care of you and that you were one of the more delightful patients she had to deal with.

Turning around to look at you one more time, Semi shot you a smile that he had reserved only for your eyes. The kind of smile that came from the bottom of his heart and was filled with adoration.

“I love you,” he repeated again.

“I love you too,” you huffed in playful exasperation. “Now go before the snow starts affecting traffic.”

Semi chuckled and waved goodbye, and as he headed towards the elevators, he couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with the nurse.

“I heard he wrote you a new song? Some of the other nurses were talking about it in the breakroom.”

“Yeah, he did! It was really sweet.”

He heard the nurse sigh fondly. “It must be nice having a boyfriend as caring and loving as Semi-san, right?”

You giggled. “Yeah, he’s the best!”

As the lyrics poured out of Semi’s mouth, the memories of you all came rushing back to him—memories that he had long since tried to forget and had buried deep within the depths of his heart.

From your first date to the day you finally moved in together. From your first major fight to the day you were read your diagnosis. These were all moments that Semi had cherished with you, but now-

“W-what do you mean the operation was yesterday?!” Semi shouted, ignoring the uneasy looks some of the passing nurses gave him.

“S-she didn’t want us to tell you, Eita-kun,” your mother cried, holding back her tears. Your father stood beside her, doing his best to support his wife as he dealt with his own grief and loss. “It was on the same day as your show. She didn’t want to burden you. She wanted you to play!”

It was your mother’s next words that broke his heart forever. “S-she…she didn’t make it.”

“Ahhh-ahhhhh!!” Semi screamed out in time with the bridge’s commencement. It was a guttural noise, one full of anger, sadness, and betrayal, all of which he had bottled away this entire time.

Semi always regretted that day. He would have gladly given up his dream of becoming a musician if it meant that he could have said goodbye to you one last time. Unfortunately, fate was far too cruel.

No matter where I go, you’re there, he thought to himself as he continued to sing. You’re always in my head. You’re in everything I see.

Feeling the hot tears pouring from his eyes, Semi strummed away at his guitar.

No matter where I go, I can still see you there…

Images of dates, anniversaries, and all the times you two had spent together began appearing in his mind. Semi could never forget the joy in your eyes whenever you smiled at him or the happiness in your laughter whenever he told a stupid joke. All of those images and sounds came crashing back to him, striking like a tsunami.

“It was her choice not to tell you,” Tendou said, warily glancing at all the empty bottles of alcohol strewn around the apartment. “She wanted you to chase after your dream.”

“What the hell’s the point of my dream if she isn’t here for it?!” Semi lashed out, not caring for the tears rolling down his face. “I only got into music because I wanted to make her happy! I wanted to see her smile! But now-”

The audience stared in total awe and focus as Semi poured his heart out into his singing and playing. All the bitterness, resentment, sadness, and regret that he had ever felt about that day were now being put into his performance.

I can’t forgive you for lying, he thought bitterly. I can’t forgive myself for not being there. But most of all…I miss you.

Striking the final chord of the song, Semi ended the show in spectacular fashion. The crowd looked on in stunned silence and wide eyes before exploding into loud praises and cheers. Although his lungs were on fire and his fingers twitched with every slight movement he made, Semi never felt more happy. The weight around his heart was now beginning to feel lighter, and with it, a chance to finally start moving forward.

Rubbing away at his eyes to get rid of the remaining tears, Semi weakly chuckled to himself. He quietly thanked the fans and wished them all a good night before exiting the stage with his bandmates. As they each congratulated him on his amazing performance, Semi couldn’t help but let his mind wander off to you one more time.

[Y/N], no matter where you are, I hope you know I’m happy. I’ve chased after my dream, just like you wanted me to. I made it, [Y/N].

…I love you.

taglist: @kkoalaworld​ (you said you wanted to be tagged)

#semi eita x reader #semi x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu reader insert #given #im so tired of editing this #pls just take it

[ambitionsource]

AMBITION Season 3 ♫ “Moment of Truth” [ 3.08 ]

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

SHOWDOWN – Adams and Haverford go head-to-head at the senior showdown finals. The A class scrambles when their polished routine is thrown into jeopardy, and Riley takes control. Charlie makes difficult decisions, culminating in a major confession.

72 Minutes (34.5K words) || No content warnings apply.

[ ← Can You Dig It? ] [ S3 Synopsis ] [ Nature of the Beast → ]

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

EXT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

We launch into the episode, the midseason finale, with focus on Riley’s inspiration board. It not only has the same old stuff from the last couple of seasons but now is updated with new mementos and charming keepsakes -- photos of her and friends (at least one for each bestie), a program from semis and West Side Story, a snapshot of Susan Egan as Belle on Broadway, brochures for NYU and Barnard, plenty of photos of Lucas.

Then we drift down, finding RILEY MATTHEWS settled in the bay window seat beneath it. She’s got her laptop on her lap, hair braided over both shoulders, and gaze focused as she takes a deep breath and then definitively hits her mousepad.

On the laptop screen, the webpage changes, showing a confirmation page on the college common application. Congratulations! Your application has been submitted. When she clicks back to the home page, we see it’s not the only one -- she’s got half a dozen applications officially done and squared away. The only one left hanging is NYU, shooting for the Tisch performing arts program still an uncertain shot.

But otherwise, she’s done. She lets out a pronounced exhale, lifting her head to look at the camera. Not only is her relief palpable, there’s something else shining in her eyes -- excitement. Yes, it’s daunting, but now the future is out there waiting for her.

Optimistic opening tones kick in, setting us truly into motion as Riley pushes her laptop off her lap and jumps to her feet.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Love It Or Leave It” as performed by Tess Henley || Performed by Riley Matthews

Riley’s vocals are easy and carefree as she steps into the performance, dancing around her bedroom in victory for finally being free of applications. She spins and stops in front of her whiteboard, crossing the task off her list with a flourish. When she steps away and out of frame, the writing left behind reminds us just what’s at stake this week.

SENIOR SHOWDOWN FINALS!!

It’s all come down to this moment, and all things considered, Riley seems in good spirits. She continues her energetic singing and grabs her backpack, slinging it over her shoulder as she climbs out the bay window…

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

And onto the streets of her city, taking her sunshine optimism on the road. She continues through the first chorus as she dances along the walk to school, interspersing her commute with skips, slides, and even a few ballet movements and twirls. She deftly avoids other passersby and sends smiles around selflessly, not letting anything tamper her bright mood.

INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - DAY

Not everyone is in quite the same high spirit, however. FARKLE MINKUS finishes submitting his last application, to University of Southern California in Los Angeles. He hovers for a moment before hitting submit, then goes back to his email inbox, where an unread email from his therapist is waiting for him. Just from the preview of the email, we can tell that she’s reaching out to check in with him after what happened last week when he suddenly left their appointment.

Any new diagnosis can be scary, but…

Farkle can’t look at it right now. He closes his laptop, taking a deep, centering breath and trying to get back in the zone. This is the week where he has to have it together. This is not the week to be less than perfect.

Looking for a boost of confidence, he reaches into his closet and pulls out his infamous blazer. If there were ever a moment to channel the old him, now would be the time. He pulls his arms through the sleeves, adjusting it on his shoulders and absorbing its energy.

Then he heads out, holding his chin high.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - DAY

ZAY BABINEAUX could probably use some of that confidence too. He’s also looking at his applications. Only one remains unsent -- his one for Turner Academy. As much as he’s dying to go there, with how everything has changed, he can’t bring himself to hit submit.

And this morning won’t be when he does. He runs from it yet again, shutting his laptop.

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - DAY

CHARLIE GARDNER, on the other hand, has had no trouble submitting his applications. He’s just wrapping up sending in the last one, this one to the prestigious Princeton University. When you look at his full list of submitted apps, they’re all names like that -- Harvard, Yale, Brown, Columbia. Only a couple of others vary in focus, a couple of dance programs peppered in for flavor.

And yet, he seems nonplussed about all of them. In fact, he doesn’t seem to feel much of anything, detached from his college prospects. Like they don’t even belong to him -- and certainly not indicative of anything he wants. Hard to be, when he doesn’t even know what that is for himself.

He clicks back to the home page, glimpsing over his application one more time. One question on the common application seems to be glaring at him.

Tell us who you are.

Charlie glares back. It’s a wonder when the time will come to truly answer it…

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Riley takes back control of the narrative, diving into the chorus again with a spring in her step. Some of her other peers feed off her positive energy, like YINDRA AMINO and JEFF MONROE, who dance around her as she passes them in the hall.

She makes her way to the dressing room hall and pushes through the doors…

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

And spins her way into the wings of the auditorium, back in top-tier shape after the debacles last episode. But the true heft of the lyrics don’t land until she sets her sights on something across the stage, that excited glimmer even brighter in her eyes.

LUCAS JAMES FRIAR. Clear to her through the clutter of her other classmates congregating on the stage, as if he’s spotlighted in her eyes. He’s working on discussing something for showdown with ASHER GARCIA and JADE BEAMON, but after a moment he lifts his gaze and locks eyes with her. Naturally, a small smile ghosts over his lips.

Riley bounces back into the rhythm, pulled in his direction like gravity.

Forgive me but I know what, I know what I want!

She weaves her way through others, skillfully dancing her way through the obstacles, only stumbling when she finally makes it to the other side of the stage. She basically collapses into Lucas, who catches her and steadies her upright, keeping her on her feet. Support and pseudo-choreography all at once.

Riley looks over her shoulder to grin at him, then spins so she’s facing him.

Sometimes I get the feeling I just can’t help myself…

She pulls him towards her and back out of the wings, actually managing to drag him along in half a dance for a good chunk of the remaining chorus. It’s no mystery where at least half of her good mood comes from, with the way she’s unable to stop smiling as she sings to him and twirls under his arm.

When she twirls away he lets her go, allowing her to traverse the stage freely for the rest of the number. As she’s finishing her cheerful solo, the rest of the A class makes their way onto the stage around her, all in rehearsal clothes.

Riley finally comes to a stop as the music peters out, finding her place in the dance lines and standing ready to move. The camera rotates around her, showing off the rest of the seniors also ready to roll, then panning to Lucas, Jeff, and Zay standing at the front of the stage with ERIC MATTHEWS, HARPER BURGESS, and MAYA HART.

And it’s Maya who takes over from there. She steps forward, clapping her hands together, and shatters the hopeful vibe with ease.

Maya: Alright, countrymen, get ready to have your ass kicked for the next five days. Showdown is Saturday, and I will be damned and cast to Hell if Haverford Shlep beats us for the seventh bloody year in a row. This is not amateur hour. And with God as my witness -- if you’re into that sort of thing -- we are going full fire and burning this showdown to the ground. [ lifting her bullhorn ] On your marks! And five, six, seven --

Cue title sequence.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

We’re in the darkness of the wings, though we can still see most of the class doing run-throughs of their setlist and hear Maya clapping and shouting commands in the background. We’re looking through the lens of NICK YOGI’s camera, who has it facing towards himself. He speaks in a whisper, trying not to get targeted by Maya.

Yogi: So, AAA thotties, here’s where we’re at. After a wild semester, senior showdown is finally upon us, and the A class has been in better straits. A shit ton has happened to get us where we are now, so before I continue on with capturing all the magic and whimsy of showdown preparations --

Maya, off-screen: Is that what you call a kick-ball-change, Chey? When we lose on Saturday, I’m blaming it all on your kick-ball-change. Let’s go again!

Yogi: Dave and I thought it might be smart to quickly recap how exactly we ended up in this mess.

INT. AAA - A/V CLUB STUDIO - DAY

Obviously filmed as an earlier segment, the camera now focuses on DAVE WILLIAMS casually seated at the news desk across from wherever Yogi is set up. The footage is far from polished, shot more like a documentary, and it’s not clear whether Dave realizes they’re filming or if he thinks they’re just shooting the shit. He’s not looking at the camera, eyes directed at his best friend off-screen.

Dave: It’s so crazy, man. Like, I feel like it all started when Charlie left Triple A.

Yogi: Oh?

Dave: Yeah, dude. ‘Cause like, who even cared about Haverford before that, you know? Like, they sucked or whatever, but no one really gave a shit. We knew we’d have to face them with showdown, but the moment Charlie jumped ship it’s like it got all personal. Like he defected to the dark side, and so suddenly we had to know the dark side. You know, like that blonde bitch from Camp Rock and Camp Star which didn’t even exist until they needed a rival and suddenly it had all these important characters in it.

Yogi, trying not to laugh: For sure.

Dave: And the thing is like -- I don’t know if we really told him enough when he was like, actually here, but -- Charlie is good. He was one of our best performers, or at least most reliable, and between him and Zay it’s like we had a monopoly on dance. Hotels on that shit. Showdown felt pretty assured, because when you’ve got dudes who can dance like that, I mean, what was anyone even gonna do to top it? But then Charlie transfers, that juice gets drained by half, and the rest of the dominoes fall.

Yogi: Uh huh. Go on.

Dave: And TBH, I feel like that was part of another thing too -- what happened to Zay. Because everyone knows he went like mega-diva earlier this year, and he didn’t used to be like that. I don’t know if anyone else noticed, but I feel like he and Charlie were close? Best friends, really, which makes sense, since they’re like bonded by dance and stuff. And so when Charlie left I feel like that just totally… like knocked him flat, and made him go all haywire, and all that is what led to him going nuts and never taking a break and fucking up his leg.

Yogi: That’s an interesting take. The way you connect the dots amazes me.

Dave, earnest: But like, look dude, I totally get it. It’s like, I think about if you left Triple A all the sudden and just left me behind. I’d be bummed as fuck. Like I wouldn’t even wanna be at this stupid school anymore. I think Zay is way tougher than I’ll ever be.

Yogi: Wow… that was so sweet. [ sniffling theatrically ] I just need a moment --

The tape cuts quickly, still at the same angle, but indicating a lapse in filming.

Yogi: Would you really wanna not stay at Triple A?

Dave: Why would I, if you’re not here to make it fun?

Yogi: What about Lucas?

Dave: Oh yeah… okay, I’d probably stay. But it wouldn’t be the same.

Yogi, amused: That makes more sense.

The tape cuts again, this time Dave having changed positions. He’s sitting slouched in the chair with one of his entire legs propped up on the table in front of him -- i.e., like a weirdo boy who can’t sit normally.

Yogi: So Zay gets fucked up.

Dave: Zay gets hurt, and that’s a major blow. I mean, there’s where we’re at right now, trying to figure out some bizarro way to replace him. But he was a huge part of the original routine, so now we’re like trying to put a band-aid over a bazooka hole. Then all the money stuff added on top of that which totally distracted us for way more time than we can spare. Not being able to be in the auditorium wasn’t good either.

Yogi: Nope.

Dave: Then with Dora’s mom dying, that like knocked her out of the ring. Which is bad, because Dora is like our tiny, terrifying WWE fighter. A little secret weapon. But like, RIP Valerie and all that.

Yogi: Rest easy, queen.

Dave: But we need the win. Lucas needs it to give scholarships to all the destitute future AAA thotties, and I really feel like if we lose, Maya is going to go full Carrie. But with everyone all wigged over college apps and stuff, and the legacy of six years of Ls hanging over us… it’s not looking good, chief. I wouldn’t say that out there for risk of getting shanked by Maya’s stiletto, but a good reporter tells the truth.

Yogi: Right you are. So if you could say one thing to us for later, win or lose, what say you, Dave?

Dave: Well, I’d say “good luck, Charlie,” but as I just said, Charlie is gone. And he’s with the enemy, so I can’t give him any luck.

Yogi: No. How about “good luck, Davie?”

Dave: [ looking miserably at the camera, which zooms in ] Good luck, Davie.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Back in the present, Yogi whispers a thanks to his best correspondent, Dave Williams, before throwing attention back to rehearsal.

Yogi: Time to see if we can salvage this L.

For a while, we stay with the camera perspective, Yogi stepping through the rows of his classmates to capture footage. Most of them toss him dirty looks or nearly bump into him, and SARAH CARLSON gives him an especially unimpressed glare when he gets up close to her.

Sarah: Aren’t you supposed to be rehearsing?

Haley, off-screen: Can we not have cameras rolling while we’re trying not to crash and burn this week?

Nate, off-screen: Oh, no, Yogi. Run. Yogi, run --

Yogi whips around, coming lens-to-face with a very haughty Maya. She narrows her eyes.

Yogi: Oh, Neptune…

The camera cuts to black.

Back in our usual frame, Maya snaps the camera shut, pointing for him to get back to his place in formation. He snatches his device back, holding his head high as he marches back to his spot.

Yogi: Just trying to preserve the memories. You all will thank me someday when you want to relive these moments.

Zay: I don’t want to live them now.

Maya snaps for them to run it again, moving back to the front of the stage. She claps them in, running the “Rain On Me” choreography beat-by-beat without vocals. Although the moves are still sharp, it just doesn’t feel as coherent without Zay, since the number was built with him in mind. And something just feels… off. Stale. Like we’ve seen it all before.

And distracted minds don’t help. Even with his blazer, Farkle can’t just magically return to top form, so he’s a couple steps behind. His uneasiness creates a ripple effect, those around him adjusting to avoid his missteps and just making ones of their own, until the whole ensemble is out of sync and lost. Maya growls, ceasing her clapping and holding her hands out to stop.

Maya: Come on, people! This whole thing is falling apart before my very eyes. Do not lose your heads now!

Lucas: Maybe it would help to not have a manic pixie nightmare girl screeching at them.

Maya: [ holding up a finger, not looking at him ] Didn’t ask you. Again, from the top! Five, six --

INT. HAVERFORD PREP - AUDITORIUM - DAY

BRANDON RIVAS is in the same role as Maya, clapping them through the choreography of “Seize the Day.”

Brandon: Seven, eight!

Unfortunately (for Adams), the boys are in much better shape. Their synchronization and energy are as sharp as ever, and they’re even back in full dress to work with the costumes. The only thing putting a dent in their perfect rendition is the fact that it seems they’ve introduced some new choreography here and there, Brandon correcting one or two peers while they perform.

Charlie is keeping up easily, but he admittedly seems put off by the changed details. His brow is furrowed as they run through the last pieces of the sequence, eyeing his classmates as they work to adjust their understanding of the number.

When they finish they hold their pose until Brandon signals for them to be at ease, launching into notes. He reminds them that they should put their vocal focus this week behind the new harmonies they’re learning for the middle piece in their setlist -- they’ve swapped it out for something different for finals.

Charlie fidgets until he works up the nerve to raise his hand, waiting for Brandon to acknowledge him. He does, raising his eyebrows at him, and Charlie clears his throat.

Charlie: Is there a reason we’re changing so much stuff? I thought the original choreo for the dance break in Newsies was fine. The judges liked it during semis.

Billy: Duh, of course you like it, Gardner. It’s your choreography.

The comment is said playfully, but there’s just the slightest of edges to it that BILLY ROSS doesn’t conceal. A few of the other Havies chuckle at this, but Charlie persists, trying not to let himself be deterred.

Charlie: And a whole new song for the middle? What was wrong with “Would You Mind?”

Dweezil: Does something have to be wrong to be improved?

Charlie: No, I’m only wondering --

Brandon: It’s fine, Charles. I get it. [ to the group ] Charles wants to know why we’re putting the effort into changing things around when the routines we’ve established have worked for us so far. Is that right?

Charlie pauses, then nods. Close enough. Brandon returns the nod, keeping cool as he paces in front of the boys.

Brandon: I don’t fault you for that. It’s a natural instinct. Stick to what you know, what you know works. Safer that way. [ a beat ] But safe doesn’t win showdown. We need to stay alert, fresh, open to the possibilities. We’ve been doing it for six years, and I believe we’re going to score a seventh. That means being flexible, assessing opportunities for growth and stretching to reach them.

Nice speech, one that Brandon delivers seamlessly. Charlie accepts it, but something about it is still itching at him. Maybe he really is just intrinsically averse to pushing the envelope…

Brandon: As for why we cut the pop middle, strategic maneuver. I just thought something more… classic might better highlight our strengths. Show the ways we stand out against the competition. That’s all. So, if question time has concluded, let’s get in places for “Brotherhood.”

The Havies move swiftly, shifting positions. Charlie follows suit, taking his place behind Brandon, but his expression is still contemplative as they count into the showstopper.

INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

Maya finds ISADORA DE LA CRUZ in the dressing room, marching up to her at the mirrors and cutting right to the point.

Maya: Okay, we are in meltdown mode out there, so the time has come. Izzy, you need to square up and join rank. It’s time to get back out there.

For what it’s worth, Isadora doesn’t seem surprised. She’s known this was coming for a while now, Maya’s ability to leave her be cracking every day.

Isadora: It’s not that I haven’t thought about it.

Maya: Perfect. There you go then. It’s a sign. So get your jazz shoes on and let’s go.

Isadora: But I’m not at the same level as you all. Maybe I was getting there with the singing last year, but I’m way out of practice now, and I was never there with my dancing. We’re trying to win, and I’ll be lucky if I can get on stage without passing out.

Maya: Please, if Garcia can do it when he’s prone to collapse like an anemic Weeble Wobble, you’ll be fine.

Isadora: But we don’t know that. There’s no guarantee. Even if I want to help, is it really worth risking me fucking it all up? Just for a little extra oomph from someone who is average at best?

Maya snaps, shaking her head and gripping Isadora’s shoulders. Isadora flinches slightly, but she’s used to Maya at this point, so she can get away with the aggressive touch in a time of great consequence. Maya insists that Isadora is way too in her own head -- she was fantastic before, and she will be fantastic now. Talent doesn’t just disappear.

Maya: You have royal blood running through those veins of yours. Bona fide, liquified star power, the real deal. I know it hurts that your mom isn’t here to foster that -- believe me, I know how it feels -- but you’re still here. You are her legacy, and this is your birthright. So it’s time to claim it!

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Born For This” as performed by Paramore || Performed by Maya Hart & Isadora De La Cruz

Maya launches into the rambunctious early Paramore hit, appealing to Isadora in a language both of them know -- angry, empowering, female-led punk rock. It’s the artist that first bonded them, after all, so it’s the best she can offer in a last pitch to get her to come around. As she sings through the first verse she climbs up onto the countertop, strutting along it and hitting strong poses, before leaping back down in front of Isadora.

As she hits the pre-chorus, she leans in close to Isadora, challenging her with her body language to fight back or take the risk to meet her at her level. Then she takes her hand, leading her out of the dressing room --

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

And into the halls for the chorus, Maya jumping and head-banging as she goes. Isadora jogs to keep up, taking over on the second verse as other AAA students begin to join in as the echo. Maya leads them, matching her movements in response to Isadora’s sing-shouting. Then they all create a rocking crowd formation for the chorus again, similar to when the techies took the halls with “Thnks Fr Th Mmrs,” sharply bouncing and dancing their way to the intense music and following the lead of Isadora and Maya, standing side by side at the front of the pack.

INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY

Then the mob descends on the cafeteria, finding most of the remaining Adams students. Maya and Isadora take over the lunch room, rallying students at their tables and heightening the energy across the board.

Maya hops up onto a table and pulls Isadora with her, gathering the students around them. This is where they lead the “We! Were! Born For This!” chant, getting the others to echo their declarations. When they escalate up to the belt at the end of the bridge, they stand back to back, Maya leaning her head back theatrically and shouting the note to the ceiling.

Everybody sing!

The cafeteria has become a full-on rock concert, other students jumping onto the tables and getting into the spirit. Maya has a knack for turning lunch time into a spectacle, and this is no exception. The school rock-and-rolls their way to the end, where they all break into hollers and cheers. Maya turns to face Isadora again where they’re standing on the center table, quirking an eyebrow. Well?

Isadora catches her breath… then grins, clasping her hand with Maya’s. Officially on board.

INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

Back in the dressing room and now part of the team officially, Isadora seeks out CHAI FRESCO. She strikes up conversation as Chai is arranging their semis costumes on the rack, asking if she has a second. Since she’s now joining the performance, Isadora knows she needs to brush up on her dancing. And well, it’s a lot to learn in a short amount of time…

Isadora: Though it kills me to admit it, I know I’m going to need help. I was wondering if you would be willing to stay later with me each day and run through it until I get it down.

Chai: Really? You want me?

Isadora: Honestly, my first thought was Maya, but you’ve seen how she is lately. She is so stressed out over this, I know she won’t have time, and I think she might actually murder me for slow uptake. But her aside… you are the best dancer we have in the A class. Maya would also kill me for saying that.

Chai, touched: … well, thanks. Most people don’t really notice.

Isadora: Not everyone.

Yes, clearly not everyone… either way, Chai is flattered. She agrees to tutor Isadora, assuring her that no matter the choreo, they’ll get her up to snuff in no time. Nothing to freak out over.

INT. AAA - BOYS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

Farkle’s blazer has been discarded on the floor, bold callback abandoned. Farkle has folded himself into a protective position on the countertop, avoiding the mirror next to him as he tries to calm down from what feels like an impending panic attack. His hands are shaking as he pulls his sweater over his head, down to just his plain tee but still feeling hot.

Riley pokes her head in, commenting that she finally found him. She’s been looking for him before they go do another run-through… then she notices his shaky state, immediately shifting from friendly to concerned. She rushes over to him, asking what’s going on and if he’s okay.

Farkle: I tried. I really tried, Riley, I tried to just work through it --

Riley: What? Work through what?

Farkle: But I can’t. I’m just -- I’m not myself. I don’t even know what myself is right now.

When she prods him once again, he cracks and spills everything about what happened with his therapist. About his new diagnosis, about being bipolar. He knows it doesn’t actually mean anything, or maybe it actually means clarity, but right now it just feels like too much. So much he doesn’t understand, like having to relearn a whole new identity. Riley does her best to keep up, frowning as Farkle grows flushed and chokes up.

Riley: It’s okay, Farkle. You’re not… I mean, millions of people are bipolar, and they get through it. They figure it out. You’ll figure it out, too, especially since you’ve got top-rate care and the best people to help.

Farkle: I know. [ huffing and wiping his eyes ] I know, it’s silly for me to be freaked. I know it doesn’t really change me, it’s just a label for what I already am. But it just feels like… I don’t know. [ voice cracking ] Like I’m even more to deal with than I was before.

Riley doesn’t know what to say -- she’s not a therapist -- so all she can do is offer comfort. She steps closer and wraps him in a hug, Farkle returning the embrace tightly. They just hold each other for a few moments.

Riley: Farkle, you have always been unique. Uniquely a challenge, but uniquely wonderful, too. Both are some of my favorite things about you. And more than that, you are damningly resilient. [ pulling back to look at him ] You will rise above this too. And it’s not like you have to do it alone, you know that we’re going to have your back every step of the journey.

Farkle: Yeah… yeah, you’re right. Thanks.

He leans forward for another quick hug, which she happily gives him. When they break apart again, Farkle releases a heavy exhale.

Farkle: But Riley, with all this going on… I don’t think I can do it. Showdown. I don’t want to drop out of the performance, but I can’t carry it the way I did for semis. I want to, and I know Maya is going to lose her shit if I don’t, but I just don’t think I can handle it right now.

He’s right about one thing -- Maya is going to flip. Right after she collects one advantage, another domino falls… but Riley understands. Of course she does. She pats his shoulder, giving him the bravest smile she can muster.

Riley: It’s fine. We’ll still have your star power in our ranks, and we’ll find a way to rearrange. You need to do what’s best for you.

Farkle: Yeah. Yeah, I hope.

Riley: Everything is going to be fine. Don’t worry.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

Riley reports directly to Lucas and DYLAN ORLANDO, soothing smiles long gone.

Riley: It’s time to worry.

She relays to them that Farkle is stepping down without divulging the details, keeping it simple by explaining he’s not doing well at the moment. It’s lucky that they’ll still have him in the ensemble, but this is just another body blow that she’s not sure their team can take.

Riley: With Farkle off the table, our routine is basically on life support. That’s two out of three of the main vocalists on “4 Minutes” out, and “Rain On Me” isn’t doing so hot either. We can move Nigel up to take Farkle’s role -- which we should, he’s severely underutilized at present -- but even then we’re still lacking major male stage presence.

Lucas: Not great considering Haverford is all testosterone.

Dylan: When you say it like that, it sounds so awful. All testosterone… I can’t believe that’s something our society idolizes.

Lucas: You’re gay.

Dylan: And? I like men, not hormones. It’s not like when I kiss Asher I’m thinking about his sexy cortisol levels.

Riley gets them back on track, reiterating the problem. With their arrangement the way it is right now -- head count and track list -- they’re royally fucked. Dylan and Lucas concur, agreeing that they’re going to need to find some additional male star power to fill the gaps Farkle is leaving behind.

Now where are they going to find that… Dylan glances around them, as if something is missing, and arrives at the obvious answer at the same time as Riley and Lucas. They all exchange a look, tacitly acknowledging exactly who their saving grace should be.

INT. AAA - PROP LOFT - DAY

Convincing that saving grace, well, that’s another story.

Asher: No.

Asher turns away from Lucas and Dylan, both having just pitched the idea to him. He continues to shake his head adamantly even as they scramble to appeal to his better angels, avoiding eye contact by aimlessly shifting around props on the shelves.

Lucas: We’re running out of options --

Dylan: You’re the best damn performer in this school --

Lucas: We’re literally running on empty right now --

Dylan: No, the best performer in the whole state --

Lucas: This whole thing is about to go spectacularly to shit, and you’re really going to sit there and do nothing?

Asher: [ holding up a finger ] Don’t guilt trip me.

Lucas: Well what else am I supposed to do, Asher, when we’re standing on the precipice of total annihilation and you won’t even consider stepping in to save us? When we lose and my political agenda to improve the status and future of Adams itself goes down the tubes, there will be no one left to blame but the secretary who didn’t show up.

Asher: You are so dramatic. Hell, you go up there and take the spot. You can at least match Farkle for theatrics.

Dylan: Come on, Ash! You learn fast, and everyone knows you’ve got talent. You performed during comfort zone week.

Asher: Yes, specifically because it was outside my comfort zone. Hence, the assignment being referred to as “comfort zone week.” And there were consequences if I didn’t. There were grades involved. There was pressure.

Lucas: There’s pressure now. Me. I’m pressuring you to do it.

Dylan: And also last week. Remember “Boogie Shoes?” It was fun!

Asher: A performance for convenience’s sake. Very low stakes. And I was doing it with you. That’s different.

Lucas: So why can’t you do it again now, for convenience’s sake, when the team needs you? Can’t you just, I don’t know, go feral for a week and unleash it all and then we’ll all move on? Just do it, spaghetti!

Asher scowls and narrows his eyes, pointedly dropping the prop he was moving back on the shelf. He whips around to face them again as he responds, escalating in pitch as the words tumble out.

Asher: How many times do I have to tell you that I HAVE ANXIETY!!

Well, Lucas wanted feral Asher, and boy does he get him. Lucas and Dylan both go quiet as Asher spirals into a deliciously lively spiel about how anxiety works, and no he cannot just turn it off for “convenience sake,” and you Lucas James Friar really have no conception of how other people’s feelings work, not to mention the fact that even if he did think he could keep up with the performers for this it will be in front of a huge audience, which is a big fat automatic no. It’s not that he doesn’t want to help, or be a team player, of course he does, all he ever does is try to be a team player, that’s like his whole life playbook, but sometimes they all ask just a little too much of him! Sometimes he has to put his foot down and say no! Although it’s quite an impressive monologue, the whole thing kind of has a ridiculous comedic hue to it.

Asher: So no, I am not brain dead enough to act like I’m good enough to step into the showdown setlist. I would pass out the moment I hit the stage, and I think if I have to learn all that in five days I’ll break out in hives, and if I have to work with Maya Hart I swear to God I will pitch myself off the catwalk. So read my lips. No. No! Nay! Negatory!

Dylan, under his breath: Thesaurus bonus.

Asher: I will absolutely not perform in that sinking ship that is showdown. And there is nothing -- nada! -- you could possibly do or say that will make me change my mind.

Asher exhales a huff, raising his eyebrows and daring them to challenge him on it. Lucas and Dylan blink, exchanging a look out of the corner of their eyes. Then they glance back to Asher, perhaps at a stalemate…

Then Dylan smiles.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “4 Minutes” as performed by Glee Cast || Instrumental

The horns blare, signaling that we’re on a roll again -- and Asher is in Farkle’s spot. He spins around to reveal him amidst the performers, looking overwhelmed and reluctant, but doing his best to keep up with the new choreography as Maya continues to clap out the beat.

So much for no way, Jose! In the wings, Lucas and Dylan watch smugly, victorious. Lucas shakes his head at the ridiculousness of the whole thing.

Lucas: And he calls me dramatic. What sort of threat did you have to throw at him to get him to cave?

Dylan: [ with a sly smile ] Who said anything about a threat…

They exchange another side glance, Dylan’s smile widening. He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, and Lucas rolls his eyes.

But while Isadora and Asher fill out much needed lapses in captivating stage presence, “4 Minutes” is a disaster with them in the ensemble -- let alone trying to fill the shoes of such different performers. It just doesn’t work for this new combination of people, and it doesn’t take long for Maya to shut it down and declare the run-through a failure.

Maya: Though who is surprised, considering the no-meat chicken legs we’ve subbed in for Farkle.

Dylan: Oh boy.

Asher: I’m sorry, Maya, did you see anyone else chomping at the bit to join this trainwreck. No? I wonder why… maybe because they didn’t want to be yelled at by Tyrant Barbie.

Maya: Deflect all you want, Garcia. It’s not my fault your chicken legs can’t keep up.

Asher: Oh, say that again. I dare you. Say it again.

Maya: [ into her bullhorn ] Cluck. Cluck.

Asher: Okay, that’s it --

Tensions are already high, and Asher and Maya are the perfect gasoline to set it all on fire. Dylan and Lucas dart out of the wings just as Riley and Isadora dart between Maya and Asher, nudging them towards opposite sides of the stage. Asher tries to leap for Maya but Dylan grabs him by the torso and yanks him backwards, facing him away from her.

The rest of the class has broken into chaos with them, but Riley shouts to restore order. She points out that losing their heads isn’t going to do them any favors. They need to keep their cool if they want any chance of getting through this week -- and that means everyone.

Zay: Take her bullhorn away, I think that’s a good first step.

Crisis temporarily averted, Riley jumps into team brainstorming. Clearly, something isn’t clicking. Her brain is working a mile a minute, trying to land on what the problem might be.

Haley: Maybe we just need more people? There’s strength in numbers.

Darby: Haverford has at least 25 boys competing from their senior class. We’re not even matching that.

Yindra: A good performance doesn’t need quantity. It takes quality.

Missy: Which is clearly out of stock in this auditorium.

Nate: Well maybe if we had more quantity, we’d collectively get more quality.

Considering the stakes and tension, Yindra takes NATE MARTINEZ’s snippy tone as a dig, and the two of them start to bicker. Riley cuts it off preemptively, Nate retreating over to Jeff and Jade. Dylan jumps in, trying to help.

Dylan: If we need more people, I can tag in.

Maya: For the love of God…

Dylan: I don’t learn as fast as Ash, but I can pick up enough to get by.

Lucas: Help round out the male presence too.

Riley: Yeah. Yeah, that’s great Dylan, thanks.

A potential solution for now. Maya tells everyone to take five and then they’ll regroup to run it again one more time before they wrap for the afternoon -- and Dylan should start getting tips from others in the meantime if he’s gonna catch up.

But Riley stays put while the others disperse. Her brow is still crinkled, lost in thought. It’s great that they’ve got another talented person bolstering their performance, but something about it still doesn’t feel right.

And though she dreads to think it, she wonders if the issue runs much deeper than manpower.

INT. AAA - DRESSING ROOM HALL - DAY

Isadora catches up to a grumpy and frazzled Maya, pulling her aside and advising her to take a deep, cleansing breath. Maya waves off the impact of such a silly gesture outright, yet she complies anyway and takes a long, theatrical breath.

Once she’s done, Isadora continues.

Isadora: After rehearsal, I want you to come with me. I think I have something that’ll make you feel better.

Maya: Oh, do you? Bold claim, Izzy. Don’t tease me. You’d need a miracle to relieve the tension knots I’ve got in my starlet shoulders right now.

Isadora: And I’ve got just that. This will be good, whether we win showdown or not.

Isadora raises her eyebrows, playfully challenging her not to agree, then saunters off with a knowing smirk. Seems like a high bar, but Maya is intrigued nonetheless.

INT. HAVERFORD PREP - SENIOR LOUNGE - DAY

We hear the familiar track of the A class’s rendition of “Rain On Me,” but it’s filtered through tinny laptop speakers rather than being appreciated in its full glory.

That’s because a bunch of the Haverford boys are watching a recording of their semi-finals performance on DWEEZIL HOWARD’s laptop. Professional-grade filming, all right there for them to see. Brandon’s flash drive is plugged into the computer. The Havies laugh and talk amongst themselves as they watch the performance, both making fun of it and making note of all the ways Adams might be a threat at the same time.

Evan: Babineaux is a really good dancer.

Havie: Yeah, thankfully he took care of himself so that we didn’t have to.

A couple others snort, high-fiving. Charlie enters the student lounge, pausing when he hears the unfamiliar content his classmates are watching. He frowns slightly, listening closely. Curiously, it actually sounds strangely familiar… like… but no, it couldn’t be…

Then he hears a baritone he would recognize anywhere -- Zay on his brief vocal solo -- and he knows his instincts are right. It is the A class, the medley of his former peers’ voices undeniable once he confirms it.

He makes his way over, trying his best to be cool and casual as he joins them. Most of the boys greet him cheerfully, though Dweezil’s smile fades and he tenses up when he realizes Charlie has joined them. It seems like he wants to turn the screen away, but it’s too late.

Charlie: [ feigning ignorance ] What’s everyone looking at?

Havie: Check it -- Brandon got his hands on the Adams showcase.

Charlie takes the invitation, stepping closer and looking over his classmates to see for himself. There they are, right in front of his eyes -- the A class, doing their full routine at semi-finals. Someone makes a snide comment about one of Maya’s vocal runs and the group chuckles, Charlie awkwardly laughing along.

Charlie, innocently: Isn’t that against the rules?

Havie 2: Only if you get caught.

Havie, smugly: Considering we’ve done this for the last six years, I don’t think the showdown rules committee is especially strict.

The last six years? That certainly explains Haverford’s damning winning streak… and Brandon’s sudden desire to change up their setlist. He’s making tweaks based on AAA’s performance, finding ways to heighten their strengths and set them even further apart from the competition. Charlie swallows, trying to process everything without giving away his panic, but Dweezil is watching him like a hawk.

EVAN SCOTT notices too, eyeing him with concern.

Evan: You okay, Charlie?

Charlie hesitates, unsure what to say. He knows it matters. Tell us who you are. Tell us who you are. Tell us who you are…

Then he relaxes, managing an easy smile. Stepping into that same charm he flexes at church, disarming everyone and negating any need to give him a second thought.

Charlie: I was just thinking my former classmates were going to bring tougher competition. [ nodding to the video ] Obviously, I was wrong.

The boys laugh, nodding and hooting in agreement. A couple of them pat Charlie on the arm, and he flashes the Prince Charming smile. But once attention goes back to the Adams tape, the veneer dims.

INT. APARTMENT BUILDING - ELEVATOR - DAY

Maya eyes Isadora with suspicion as the two girls travel up in an elevator. Isadora has refused to explain what’s going on, but has an uncontrollable smile on her face. 

Maya: If you’re bringing me here to show me a new luxe pad you and Eric are getting, it will not make me feel better, I hope you realize.

Isadora laughs, but says nothing. The elevator dings as the doors slide open.

INT. APARTMENT BUILDING - HALLWAY - DAY

Isadora leads Maya to the door for apartment 803 and stops in front of it, her excitement palpable. Maya raises her eyebrows and looks at Isadora expectantly. 

Isadora: Open it. 

Maya: I really don’t have time for this, Izzy. Your dance skills are severely lacking, remember, and this is starting to feel like a way to avoid practice. 

Isadora: [ with an eye roll ] Just go in. Trust me.

Maya sighs, but obliges.

INT. APARTMENT 803 - DAY

Behind the door is a cozy apartment with large windows looking out to the city. There isn’t much furniture, only the essentials such as a couch and kitchen table, along with cardboard boxes dotted around. With her back to Isadora and Maya, a blonde woman crouches to dig through one of the boxes.

Maya looks around as they enter, impressed but confused. Upon hearing their entrance, the woman hurriedly stands up and turns to them. It’s KATY HART, who grins when she sees her daughter.

When Maya notices her mother, her jaw drops. She stands frozen for a moment while Katy rushes over and embraces her. It takes a moment for her brain to catch up, but when it does, Maya hugs her back just as tightly, squealing with joy.

When they pull apart, both their faces are streaked with tears. Katy holds Maya’s head in her hands and brushes hair away from her face.

Maya: I missed you so much. 

Katy: It’s so good to see you, baby girl.

Maya: I don’t… why are you here? How are you here? What even is here?

Katy looks over at Isadora. When Maya spins around to follow Katy’s gaze, realization hits her. She looks around the apartment again, this time in awe. 

Maya: Is this… for us? 

Isadora: My mom made a lot of promises that she didn’t end up keeping. Moving Katy back to New York to be with you was one of the biggest. It didn’t feel fair for that to fall apart because of her death. I’ll foot the rent bill until you’re all settled and find new work and help with the decorating. 

Katy: You’re such an angel, Isadora. I can never thank you enough for this.

Isadora waves Katy off, a blush rising to her cheeks. A fresh wave of tears hits Maya and she pulls Isadora in for a hug. 

Maya: You’re the best. The absolute best. I love you, thank you. 

Isadora, lightly: You’ll pay me back when you’re rich and famous, anyway.

While Maya takes off to inspect every detail of the space and begin designing her dream apartment in her head, Katy stays with Isadora. She gives her a warm smile. 

Katy: You’re growing up into such a fine young woman. I’m sure Valerie would’ve been so proud. 

Isadora, quietly: Thank you. 

Katy: Eric is wonderful, but know that I’m here if you ever need a mom to talk to, okay?

Katy gives Isadora a small pat on the shoulder, then heads over to where Maya is taking pictures of the space. Maya grins up at her mother and hugs her again. 

Maya: I need to make sure you’re really here and not a figment of my imagination. The power of my creativity has been astounding me lately. Remember what I told you about the dentist? Well, I had a revelation…

Isadora watches on with a bittersweet smile. Not a bad first impact to make with what Valerie left behind.

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Lucas is at his usual spot behind the counter, but work is slow and his mood is even more dejected than normal. Riley is in the same low spirit, chin propped on her hand as she sits opposite him on a stool, both of them talking about Adams’ increasingly poor chances at finals. At this point, with the way they’re hobbling through it, it’ll be a miracle if they aren’t booed off the stage.

Lucas: It’s fine. I wouldn’t be the first president to make promises they didn’t keep -- nor the last, I’m sure.

Riley: I just… I feel like we’re stuck. [ sitting up straighter ] It’s like, we’re not short on star power or talent. We’re not short on effort. We all want this victory, maybe for different reasons, but there is a unified cause. That’s not always the case with our class.

Lucas: You’re cute. It’s never the case.

Riley: My point is that we have all the elements, all the right pieces, but I feel like we’re trying to put them together to create a tableaux that doesn’t… exist anymore. Like sure, the routine got us through semis, but it was a different time and a different team. By sticking so tightly to this predetermined vision of how things were supposed to go, I think we’re shooting ourselves in the foot. Like shoving a round block into a square hole -- it just doesn’t fit.

Maybe so, but what’s the alternative? Start over from scratch, with a week to go? Riley admits that it seems daunting…

Riley: But I don’t know. At this point, what do we have to lose? There’s so much talent that we’re not highlighting in this set, so much unique charm in our class. And I think if we have any chance of beating Haverford, it’s going to be because of all those things that set us apart. We’ve pulled off greater feats before, I think we could do it if we all really committed to it. [ with a sigh ] But I know that’s not going to happen. No one wants to risk changing it up.

Understandably so, but it’s clear it’s weighing on her. She presses her palms to her eyes, releasing another sigh. Lucas frowns, obviously wishing there was more he could do to fix it -- he doesn’t even have the words to comfort her since he’s no good with them. But he offers an attempt, speaking softly.

Lucas: Look, you know I’m the last person you should go to for performing advice, so I can’t exactly comment on whether the setlist would be better off scrapped. I mean, I know it’s a fucking trainwreck right now --

Riley: I think that’s clear to even the most presentationally challenged.

Lucas: But what I do know is that I trust you. If your gut is telling you that something about this isn’t right, then I believe it. Your instincts are almost as sharp as mine --

Riley: Almost?

Lucas: In performing, you outrank me. Everything else, up for debate. [ off her nose crinkle ] Bottom line, you know what you’re talking about. And when you talk, people listen. If you feel like doing this might save our chances, wild as it might be, then you should tell the others. And whatever you choose to do, I’m marching right behind you.

Wow… well, with that shining seal of approval… Riley holds his gaze, contemplating his words. Then she manages a tired smile, taking his hands and pressing a quick kiss to his knuckles.

The brief slice of serenity is interrupted when Charlie pushes through the door, spotting Riley at the counter. He rushes over and tosses half a greeting towards Lucas, restless and out of breath, then turns to Riley.

Charlie: I need to talk to you.

Riley: Well, good thing we’re having lunch then. [ hopping off the stool ] Do you want to like order anything first --

Charlie, desperate: No, Riley, I -- it can’t wait. It’s important.

Riley clocks his nerves, losing her friendly ease. She takes his arm and leads him quickly to a booth.

Riley: What’s wrong? Is everything okay with your family? Rosie, or Bridgette --

Charlie: No, no, they’re fine. It’s not about that. It’s about showdown.

Riley: Showdown? [ uncertain ] Charlie, I don’t know if we should be discussing…

Charlie: Not like what Haverford is doing. I mean, sort of -- [ hitting his palm against his forehead in agitation ] shit.

Riley: Charlie, you’re worrying me. What’s going on?

Charlie screws his eyes shut, inhaling a breath and holding it. When he opens his eyes, he meets her gaze, and that’s the moment where it’s all or nothing. Dangerous consequences in either direction, the fear of action paralyzing him, but that same question rattling in his skull.

Tell us who you are.

Charlie exhales, eye contact steady as he steels himself.

Charlie: There’s something you need to know.

Riley stares at him, eyes wide, bracing for the unknown.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The A class is assembled on the stage, forming a semblance of a circle around Riley. She’s holding court, reluctantly delivering the bad news.

Riley: Haverford knows our setlist.

The reaction is instantaneous. There’s a mix of gasp and curses, and only seconds before nervous and indignant chatter breaks out. What? How? You’re kidding.

Isadora: How is that even possible?

Riley: As far as I know, they got their hands on a recording of our performance at semis from an outside source.

Zay: So they didn’t risk getting caught recording themselves.

Chai: Lord knows they could afford it.

Riley: They’ve been using it to alter their routine. They’ve already changed a lot of stuff to contrast ours.

Lucas: And apparently they’ve been doing this for a while. [ pointedly ] Like six years.

Nate: Those bitches.

Dave: So many people begging to get egged these days.

Asher: So we should report them. If we file a complaint, the sponsors will investigate and they’ll no doubt find the footage on them. Karma.

Riley: No, we can’t. It’s probably too late for them to do a thorough investigation anyway, and I don’t want this to blowback on Charlie. He risked a lot telling me about it, I’m not going to risk throwing him under the bus if they find out we know.

Nigel: Or worse, if they think he snitched himself.

Riley: I mean, imagine if one of us went and told Haverford information we wanted to keep secret. What would you do to them?

Maya: Itching powder in their stage make-up and a full-throttle psychological assault until they’re so worn down they drop out and transfer to Quincy High to be a humdrum accountant for the rest of their days. [ a beat ] Oh, I see. You meant that rhetorically.

Long story short, no going to the disciplinary committee. It wouldn’t do much, anyway, seeing as the only technical proof they have is word of mouth. This grim reality settles over them, Yindra declaring what everyone is thinking.

Yindra: Well, it’s over. Nice run, gals and gays.

Maybe so… the energy in the room plummets, the feeble hope keeping them moving dissolving with their prospects of a showdown victory. Zay grits his teeth, crumbling the edges of his choreography sheets. Maya delicately places her bullhorn at her feet, walking away from it and turning from the group to hide her emotion. Dylan rests his chin on Asher’s shoulder; Isadora reaches for Farkle’s hand and squeezes, keeping her eyes glued to the floor.

Riley looks around at all her classmates, empathizing with their defeat… until her gaze lands on Lucas. He’s already looking at her, watching her expectantly. He dips his head in half a nod, subtly emphasizing his earlier encouragement. It might feel hopeless, but if there were any time to suggest the impossible… and where she leads, he will follow…

Riley squares her shoulders, keeping her eyes locked on his, and finds her voice.

Riley: Maybe it’s not over just yet.

She certainly captures everyone’s attention. Heads perk up and eyebrows raise as Riley steps center stage, appealing to all of them that the fight isn’t over until the results are read Saturday.

Sarah: Come on, Matthews. You can’t be serious.

Nate: Yeah, I mean, I love the sunshine bit as much as the next baddie, but how are you going to spin this?

Riley: Am I wrong? This thing isn’t done until a victor is declared -- or we decide it’s over. And I don’t know about you all, but I’m not looking to just hand over a win to the Havies, especially one they really don’t deserve.

Maya: … okay, I’m listening. Make your pitch, Riles, and make it a good one.

And she does, ardently. The way she sees it, their chances aren’t dead. They just have to reinvent themselves. Rearrange, reorganize, find a better way of showcasing who they are and what they’re about. They did it last year -- in circumstances much harder than these -- and came out stronger for it. They’re a team now, and if they could survive all of that, they can rise above this. They just have to do exactly that: showcase who they are.

Riley: Haverford thinks that to win, they need to know what we’re up to ahead of time -- which means they’re scared -- and prove all the ways they aren’t us. Well, I say we hit them back right where it hurts and show just how much they can’t match our stride.

Nigel: With what, a whole new routine?

Darby: You’re kidding. In a week?

Riley: Every week we come up with dozens of performances! That’s what we spend every single day in this school doing. And with all of us working together? Yeah, I think we could pull something off.

Clarissa: Something the Havies have no way of cheating to beat...

Exactly! Now we’re feeling the spirit! The energy is tentative, just starting to bubble up again amidst them all, hope peeking back out through the darkness to shed some light. Riley feeds off it, growing more impassioned.

Riley: And this time, we need to focus on all of the things that make us stand out. That make us different, better, special. What are some of the things we have that Haverford doesn’t?

Farkle, flatly: … women?

He’s somewhat joking, but Riley rolls with it. She taps her nose in agreement, a signal to keep the ball rolling. The wheels are turning now…

Yindra: Individuality. You don’t see us walking around in some pretentious ass uniforms.

Nigel: And the best costumer in the state in our ranks.

[ All eyes turn to Jade, who flushes. She bashfully pushes some hair behind her ear from her spot beside NIGEL CHEY, but then straightens up in an attempt to match the confidence. ]

Jade: A costumer who did just submit all her applications and now has free time to make something new…

The thought process keeps moving from there. Personality. Some of the best young talent in the city. Skilled technicians.

Riley: We have one of the best student technician programs in the country here, and yet there’s never a focus on that at showdown. But we can change that. Jade can make costumes that are unforgettable. We can play with movement, set pieces, production details that’ll put it over the top. These are the kind of things we should be showcasing, the things we’re so lucky to have in this class that the Haverford boys will never get.

For what it’s worth, it seems like everyone is coming around. The spark is back, and even if it’s a futile mission, might as well go out with a bang rather than fizzle to nothing before the fire truly gets going.

As if to cement the mission, Maya makes a statement of her own. She scoops her bullhorn off the floor and marches to center stage… then hands it over to Riley. A symbolic passing of the torch for a new game plan. She gives her a smirk, only the slightest bit reluctant to relinquish control.

Maya: Bang bang.

Yes, Riley Matthews has let her firecracker side take control. She returns Maya’s smile, choosing not to use the bullhorn but launching into planning mode regardless. She turns to Zay first, asking if he’d still be willing to sketch out new choreography for them on such short notice and although he can’t run through it himself.

Riley: We should have never boxed you out of the vision. You’re the best dancer there is, and that doesn’t change just because you can’t do it yourself at the moment. [ a beat ] Do you think you can do it?

Zay: … [ as if it’s a difficult decision ] It won’t be anywhere near as good as it would be with more time and actual mobility, but I’m sure I can throw something together.

The corners of his mouth lift just slightly, signaling to Riley what she wants to hear. Apology accepted. She nods, grateful for more than one thing.

Nate: You should get Jeff to help. He’s a killer break dancer.

Zay: That’s true. If we’re talking about underutilized assets, that’s a big one. You can probably fill some of the gaps left behind by me with some skillful showing off. Even just some basic party trick break dancing will wow a standard audience. [ to Jeff ] What do you say?

Jeff: As long as I can map out the lighting design and pass it off to Lucas, then I say hells yeah.

Sick! Jeff jogs over to Zay and exchanges a fist bump handshake with him, Riley grinning at both of them. She then turns to Farkle.

Riley: I know you’ve got a lot on your plate right now.

Isadora raises her eyebrows at this. News to her, though she definitely clocked his uneven mood as of late… Farkle listens attentively, waiting for Riley’s request.

Riley: But you’re the most creative person I know when it comes to innovating music, at least from a spectacle standpoint. [ re: Clarissa ] And we’ve got an amazing concert musician in our midst who knows a thing or two about composition. Between you, Clarissa, and Nate’s mixing skills, I think you might be able to mash together a showstopper not easily forgotten.

Farkle: Give me the tone you’re going for, and I’ll see what this basket case can deliver.

Okay, now we’re cooking with fire! Riley turns to Jade, but she’s already moving, passing by her with Asher, Nigel, and Haley in tow en route to the costume loft.

Jade: Already on it. Let me know the setlist when it’s mapped out.

Having spun basically all the way around, Riley is back to Lucas. She meets his eyes, the two of them holding eye contact for a long moment. The rest of the techies and remaining A class yet to be assigned a task stand at attention, waiting for marching orders… but he’s looking to her. The hint of a flirtatious challenge laced in his expression, daring her to tell him what to do.

And she does, though she can’t help the teasing smirk that ghosts over her features.

Riley: If we’re going to pull this off, it’s going to be all hands on deck. The techies might have to work double time to pull together what we need, but it’ll be worth it to show off how fantastic we really are. And you can put the performers to work too when we’re not rehearsing… if you think you can do it.

Challenge laid down... as if there was ever any doubt he would accept it. But Lucas plays along, unable to hold back the slight quirk in his lips that mirrors her own. He doesn’t break eye contact with her, but declares to the assembled group:

Lucas: You heard her.

That they did, Lucas. Loud and clear! Riley continues to smile at him as the A class erupts into a flurry of movement around her, back to work and more energized than ever before. The engine of Motown swing rumbles to life, underscoring the new endeavor…

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Get Ready / Dancing In The Street” as performed by Motown The Musical Original Broadway Cast Recording || Performed by AAA Seniors

The performance carries through the ensuing montage of the A class hustling to put together a brand new routine, firing on all cylinders to bring it together. To kick us off, Riley starts in the black box classroom with Zay, Yindra, Maya, and Isadora, deliberating on the white board about what songs or series of songs should populate their new list. There’s a lot of key words scattered across the board -- individuality, range, the power of women -- but it seems they’ve already narrowed it down to their chosen concept.

Riley finishes up jotting down all the ideas on a piece of paper, the others leaning over to snap photos and send them out to people in the class. Sarah rushes in and takes the original paper from Riley, saluting as she takes off again into the hallway with it. The moment she’s out there door of one room --

INT. AAA - PRACTICE ROOM - DAY

She’s dashing into the next, joining Farkle, Nate, and CLARISSA CRUZ in the practice studio. Sarah hands the setlist ideas to Farkle at the piano, settling down next to DARBY WINTERS who is helping try out chords on her guitar. Nate has one half of his industrial headset on, fiddling with a sound mixing program on his chunky laptop as they avidly discuss whatever they’re scheming together.

Clarissa is listening with rapt attention to the discussion, only tuning out when she gets a text on her phone. She quickly lets them know she’ll be back in a minute, darting out of the studio --

INT. AAA - COSTUME LOFT - DAY

And arriving in the costume loft, though she pauses in the doorway. Jade is already dealing with someone, Maya having paid a visit to the costume loft to argue over certain costume concepts in regards to the new setlist. Just before the dance break, the music quiets somewhat, vamping under the scene as it unfolds.

While Maya is at her full diva pitch -- though, to be fair, she is just trying to do what she thinks is best for the team -- Jade Beamon has finally had enough. She stops trying to ignore Maya and holds up a hand to stop her costuming team at work, Asher, Nigel, Yindra, and Isadora pausing and staring as Jade swivels to face off with her. She sharply and deftly defends her vision for the costuming, citing her thought process with curt, to the point reasoning. She also takes Maya down with impressive calmness, especially considering the circumstances and the fact that Maya used to make her cry from being so nitpicky just about two years ago.

Jade: Believe it or not, Maya, I think I know what I’m doing given that I’ve designed almost every costume you’ve worn and made you look good for the past three and a half years. So how about you focus on your business, and you let me handle mine?

Damn. Mic drop! Maya stares at her, processing the clapback and debating whether to tear her to shreds in response or not… but ultimately, she opts to back off. If anything, Jade growing a backbone might’ve been the cure to Maya’s overbearing obnoxiousness the whole time. She leaves Jade to it, claiming she should let her know if she needs any additional help -- she’ll send someone else to do it tout de suite.

The others watch in fascination as Maya Hart retreats, strutting past Clarissa shocked and awed in the doorway. Jade takes a deep breath, recentering herself, and flips her loose ponytail back over her shoulder.

Jade: Where were we?

Back to work, team! No time to waste! They get back down to business as if nothing happened, which is impressive considering that was some big news we just witnessed.

The only one who doesn’t immediately get back to work is Nigel, who continues to stare at Jade like he can’t believe she’s real. What a woman…

As the dance break instrumentation swells back to full volume --

INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

Zay is tapping out the beat to a track with his good foot, bopping his head and talking through some choreography and steps with Jeff and Chai. They actually walk through the steps since he can’t, but the rapport seems to be good, and whatever they’re putting together already looks cool. They land on a particularly neat idea for a combination and Jeff and Chai high-five, the former leaning over to fist bump Zay too.

Suddenly, the dance studio that felt so lonely and isolated for so long is filled with camaraderie and enthusiasm again. Zay grins, feeling the rhythm again even though he can’t be on his feet. He jots down the combination idea, flipping the paper over --

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

And becoming Dave slamming a paint bucket at his feet, working with Dylan to put together a rolling flat that will become part of the dynamic backdrop for their performance. Dylan tests it by hopping onto it, throwing his arms out as Dave practices pushing it. They roll seamlessly out of the wings and onto the stage as the last pre-chorus launches into the final minute…

Where we find the A class back together, running through choreography and vocals together of their new routine. In this moment they perform the current song, subbing in for what their actual setlist will be, but getting the energy up and translating the hard work all the same. It’s powerful seeing them all come together, truly united like never before, and showing off exactly why they’re at such an elite school in the first place.

Zay takes the final belted run of the performance, jumping up from his seat where he, Lucas, and Maya are watching the run through. He throws his head back and lets it fly, the rest of the class backing him up at the very end to drive the number home.

Break 1.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The A class finishes an actual run through of their new routine, the passage of time indicated by the fact that they’re all in new rehearsal clothes. They’re breathless and sweaty but teeming with excitement. Even if it’s slapdash, even if it ends up not being enough, they clearly feel invigorated by whatever they’re putting out there. There is something so naturally riveting about underdogs making their last shot…

Zay has the floor in Riley’s absence, giving feedback and not only pointing out what could use refinement, but also what’s working. The positive reinforcement seems to be helpful, keeping everyone in light spirits in spite of the odds stacked against them.

As they’re about to break for rehearsal for the evening, Maya pipes up, asking if she can have a few words. Zay is reluctant, but obliges, stepping back next to Lucas.

Maya reveals that while they have been working hard on a majority of their new banging setlist, they still haven’t settled definitively on an opening number. Nothing has quite clicked right yet. Because of this, she argues, they’re going to need something that will fall together effortlessly -- which means a diva number. Since the rest of their routine is so heavy on the ensemble, it shouldn’t be an issue to let a powerful mezzo soprano kick off their show. It’s traditional, really, to have a star force central to some part of a showdown routine.

Maya: Lucky for us, I have the perfect pitch. It came to me in a vision, actually, when I was heavily incapacitated in a dire health operation --

Farkle: Oh no.

Isadora: It was a filling, Maya.

Maya: And I can think of the perfect starlet to carry the number.

For a moment, the class hangs in limited suspense. Of course, she’s going to volunteer herself. But then Maya steps across the stage, making her way to stand in front of Yindra.

Maya: If we’re showcasing the best and most underutilized, then I believe the choice is obvious. [ off her surprise ] Now I’m not giving up this opportunity lightly -- and rest assured, the pain in my ego is so blinding I will probably have to undergo another incapacitating surgery to recover from it --

Zay: Really selling the selflessness here.

Maya: But I know you’ve got what it takes. If anyone here was ever sincerely a threat to my mezzo diva dominance… I can admit you come close. So now is the time to deliver, Amino.

Another crazy moment. Maya, sharing the spotlight… I guess that’s growth. Yindra beams, shrugging her shoulders suavely.

Yindra: Don’t have to ask me twice. Let’s get to staging.

INT. AAA - DRESSING ROOM HALL - DAY

Post-rehearsal mayhem, everyone is rushing around gathering their things for the weekend and making sure they’re all up to date on what the plan is for tomorrow. Isadora bumps into Farkle, asking him if he’s seen Riley, but he merely shrugs.

Farkle: I think she said last week that she had a doctor’s appointment. Probably wasn’t planning for our entire showcase to change in that time.

Isadora: Yeah, no kidding.

Whatever she wants to debrief with Riley, it’ll have to wait until later. Isadora starts to check in with him, see if everything is okay since he randomly stepped down from the spotlight -- concerningly out of character, in her opinion -- but Farkle dodges the question.

This doesn’t sit well with her, but she lets it go for now. Too many crises going on right now to keep up with -- though Farkle will always be high on her priority list.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Yindra is hanging back to gather the last of her things and read through the new opening number choreography one more time, lightly stepping through the moves as she sings to herself under her breath. The rhythm sounds slightly familiar, but it’s just soft enough that only someone really listening carefully could make it out.

It stops soon anyway, Yindra halting and jumping in embarrassment when Zay appears in the doorway. She tilts her chin up and grows defensive again, but it’s clear the effort of being cold with him is tiring. He chooses not to acknowledge it, entering the classroom and commending her for her soft-shoe last-minute rehearsing.

Zay: If it looks that great at 10% volume, I’m sure we’ll have no issues on Saturday.

Yindra: … well, I’m sure you wish it was you taking the diva opening. Since you’re the one working the hardest all the time.

Zay: Nah. If we’re aiming to secure an instant jaw-dropper, Maya couldn’t have chosen a better leading lady. Even if I were fit enough to be considered a contender right now.

Oh. Well that’s… nice. Yindra shifts focus to put her choreo sheets in her shoulder bag. Zay approaches and settles on top of a desktop to ease off his boot, taking the opportunity to guide the conversation.

Zay: Do you remember when we became friends?

Yindra, loftily: … was it when Miss Moore partnered us for duet assignments the second week of freshman year and promised a prize to the best breakout first duet, and we brought the house down with “Stand Up For Love,” but she chose Farkle and Maya instead?

Zay, amused: No. Though that was classic. [ a beat ] And maybe an eerie premonition about dear Angela.

Yindra: Anyone who chooses Anything Goes over the Destiny’s Child is deranged, so.

No arguments here. The moment of fellowship passes quickly, but it doesn’t feel like it’s gone for good... Yindra nods, still trying to maintain her aloof demeanor but allowing Zay to elaborate.

Zay: It was earlier than that, first week of class. No one really knew anyone, except like Haley and Clarissa since they met over the summer or whatever. So it kind of felt like every day was coming into battle alone. Anyway, Maya was giving her first -- of many, many -- psychotic mini-monologues before a performance, and this one was especially cracked. Probably because she was trying to establish her bitchutation.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - FLASHBACK - DAY

Though it’s brief, we catch a glimpse of what the world was like all those years ago. The A class -- or those that we can see -- are styled to look how they might’ve that first year, awkward and definitely poorly dressed compared to now. Freshman year is so hard. A slightly frazzled ANGELA MOORE attempts to maintain order, but clearly the A class of 2021 is already proving to be a… unique challenge.

True to Zay’s word, most of them are sitting on their own, though there are clusters where it seems friendship has already sprouted. An even shyer Charlie is sitting behind Clarissa and Haley, who keeps glancing over her shoulder to smile at him and then giggling nervously. Dylan, Dave, and Nate are whispering and passing notes mischievously -- Dylan with his embarrassing glasses and Bieber cut -- while Asher watches him wistfully from a couple desks away where he’s sitting with Jade. Farkle is in his blazer and semi-bowl cut and shooting daggers into Maya who is loudmouthing up at the front; Lucas is nowhere to be seen.

Zay is seated amidst it all, but distinctly on his own. He’s probably dressed better than most of his peers even then, and his hair is different than he wears it now, but even someone as cool as him can’t shake the quintessential freshman awkwardness. Presently, he’s scowling as Maya talks, clearly unimpressed.

Zay, voiceover: Now, I admit, I was making a bit of a stank face. I mean, it was Maya. But I remember I glanced around to see if everyone else was hearing this nonsense --

Freshman Zay does just that, freezing and reigning in his distaste when he spots Yindra. Her hair is different as well, and she’s not clothed as fashionably as she is these days. But she’s glancing towards Zay, too, and he doesn’t want to seem like a bitch. However…

Zay, voiceover: And you were making the exact same face.

For a second, freshman Yindra and Zay just stare at each other, caught. Then, Yindra cracks a smile, conspiratorial and a touch embarrassed. Zay immediately returns it, the two of them sharing a silent laugh across the room.

Zay, voiceover: That was when it clicked for me. I don’t think I even knew your name yet, but it felt like we’d been friends for years. Kindred spirits.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Back in the present, Zay finishes recounting the memory, light smile on his face as he looks at her. She’s listening but avoiding his eyes, fiddling with the strap of her bag.

Zay: And I was right. I think that’s probably the only thing I was right about from freshman year. [ slipping off the desk ] You and I are one in the same. That’s why we’re best friends. We have impeccable taste. We always bring it. We work our asses off. [ a beat ] We find it really hard to admit when we’re wrong… or when we’ve been stung.

True enough. Yindra clears her throat, tentatively meeting his eyes.

Zay: I’m sorry I was such a bitch. And I’m especially sorry that I made you think, even for a second, that you’re not good enough. That you’re not on my level or whatever bullshit I was selling this semester. It’s not true. You are the only person who is always on my level. Bar none.

Yindra: … well, you’re certainly not the only one good at being a little bitch…

Zay: No, but I get why you did it. Honestly, if the roles were reversed, I probably would’ve done the same to you. Like I said, one in the same. [ a beat ] And I hope you’ll forgive me and we can go back to the whole kindred spirit thing, because I really don’t want to miss the boat when you’re wildly successful in L.A. and inevitably lift me up with you. Just strategic thinking.

This, finally, really breaks the ice. Yindra can’t help but smile, shaking her head.

Yindra: You are so dramatic.

And then she’s hugging him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Zay returns it, relieved, and the universe tilts one degree closer to being back in order.

They pull apart, Yindra scrunching her face fondly and lightly patting his cheek. She reaches over to grab her bag and slings it over her shoulder, linking her arm through his as they slowly walk towards the door.

Zay: I’m serious about the career thing. Maybe we should tag team. Maybe we should go full Destiny’s Child.

Yindra: Ooh… [ tapping her chin ] But who’s gonna be our third…

Zay: Nigel?

Yindra: … well, we can always hold open auditions.

Zay laughs, the two of them disappearing into the hallway.

INT. TOPANGA’S CAR - MOVING - DAY

Riley is in the passenger seat of Topanga’s car, focused on a text thread where the A class is recapping any last-minute notes and thoughts for prep tomorrow. She types a quick response apologizing for not being there that afternoon and highlighting how hard everyone has worked. In her other hand, she’s clutching a prescription slip on her lap.

TOPANGA LAWRENCE comments that it’s good they arranged this doctor appointment for today -- she is so incredibly snowed under with work at the firm, it’s lucky she was able to drive Riley out today. As if Riley doesn’t know a thing or two about being swamped these days… still, her mother is in good spirits.

Topanga: I’m glad to hear everything seems to be in good shape, though. And smart of you to get this physical done in a timely manner -- your dad is such a disaster when it comes to keeping up with appointments. [ with a smile ] I must’ve raised you well.

Riley manages to return the smile, ignoring the comment about Cory. At this point, those are so natural to conversations with Topanga, it’s like white noise. Topanga casts a sideways glance at the prescription she has, knowing smirk ghosting over her lips.

Topanga: Though I think considering what you came to get, the reason you asked if I would take you is fairly obvious…

Riley awkwardly shifts her fingers on the slip, allowing us to get a better look at what she’s being prescribed for the first time. Birth control. She puts her phone in her pocket and absentmindedly fiddles with the braid on her shoulder.

Riley: I did think you were the much smarter option for help in this matter, yes.

Topanga: No doubt about that. You should spare Cory the knowledge of this little development as long as you possibly can. For his own good.

Yeah, Riley doesn’t seem to disagree on that. Although it’s just another one-up against Cory, they do exchange a small humorous smile, like a new inside joke they share.

Riley: Thanks for coming with me.

Topanga: Of course. [ a beat ] So… you and Lucas must be getting pretty serious, then.

Riley’s expression shifts into something softer. She looks out the window, unable to look at her mother as she contemplates it. Not because she’s embarrassed, but because something about Lucas and what they have is sacred. He’s something she doesn’t want -- or have to -- share with anybody else.

Still, thinking of him naturally elicits a delicate smile.

Riley: Yeah. Yeah, we are.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

Lucas is packing up, stuffing things into his backpack. He takes care to handle the showcase binder gently, not wanting to do anything or lose anything that might throw them back into the pits of hopelessness.

But something does fall out anyway, dropping to the floor at his feet. He curses under his breath and slips the binder into his bag, crouching down to recover whatever escaped.

Money. A few crisp hundred dollar bills, folded neatly together. Lucas knows he’s not just carrying that kind of money around, and it’s clear that it was slipped into his things with careful intent. It’s no mystery where it came from.

But that also means someone was rooting through his stuff, once again intruding his sanctuary without permission. Lucas scowls, crumpling up the bills in his fist as he climbs back to his feet.

Missy, pre-lap: No, no, it’s supposed to be that side of the stage. Do you all have directional dyslexia?

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

MISSY BRADFORD is standing on the stage, directing a bunch of the underclassmen techies to move some final set piece adjustments. But they’re young and still learning, which she clearly doesn’t have the patience for. She shakes her head, unimpressed, while behind her we can see Lucas jogging down from the booth.

Missy: I swear, they just don’t make help like they used to…

Lucas: Hey!

Missy swivels around, expression brightening in interest when she sees who’s snapping at her. She saunters over to the edge of the stage as the younger techies disperse, leaving them alone.

Missy: Just the person I wanted to talk to. I finally got those panels for the rolling flats. Normally it shouldn’t take this long, especially considering how much I paid, but when it’s a rush job --

Lucas: What makes you think you can go through my shit?

Lucas’s tone is harsh, more scathing than the usual dry sarcasm he employs with her. But it doesn’t intimidate Missy much -- in fact, if anything, it just seems to intrigue her more. She raises her eyebrows as he reaches the front of the house, now standing essentially below her.

Lucas: And the booth. I told you you can’t just go waltzing in there whenever the fuck you want. To do whatever the fuck you want --

He tosses the crumpled bills at her feet on the stage, glaring up at her derisively. She shrugs coolly, clasping her hands together.

Missy: As far as I understand it, actually, the booth is available to all students for use. So I have every right to it just as much as you do.

Lucas clenches his jaw, obviously wanting to bite back, but in this case he has no argument. Technically, technically, she’s right. Even if every other student silently respects the unspoken rule that the booth is his, there’s nothing he can use against someone who doesn’t. His anger is palpable when he speaks again, voice low.

Lucas: This thing, whatever it is? It’s done. It has to stop.

Missy, innocently: “Thing?” I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about --

Lucas: Yes, you do. Cut the bullshit. Whatever game you’re playing, or… dance you think you’re doing, you’re doing it on your own. I’m done with it.

Bold words. And obviously not something Missy would want to hear… though for what it’s worth, she seems unfazed by his declaration. She maintains her confident nonchalance, examining him for a long moment… then holds her hands up in surrender.

Missy: Okay. I never meant to upset you, Lucas. I was just trying to help. [ a beat ] But if you’re really not into it anymore, you can always… give the money back.

Oh. Well… that’s not so simple. Lucas opens his mouth as if he’s going to respond, but nothing comes out. Some of the fire he marched down here with burns out, leaving him uncertain. And Missy sure notices, her sweetness sharpening into coy smugness. She tilts her head.

Missy: But you’re not going to do that. Are you?

She casually extends her designer shoe to kick at one of the discarded bills, threatening to send it down the thin gap between the orchestra pit and the floor. But Lucas reaches out to save it just in time, hastily catching it before it’s lost forever.

Got ‘em. She’s spotted Lucas’s brazen dismissal for exactly what it is -- a bluff.

And he’s clearly ashamed of it, how easily he caved, when the thing he needs so desperately is dangled in front of his face. Missy gives him a sympathetic look, but it’s closer to pity than empathy. It’s so hard to tell what is real from her, how much she actually sees Lucas as a human being versus an attractive puzzle for her to toy with.

But in this moment, she’s won, so she’s feeling charitable. She primly lowers herself down to sit on the stage across from him, crossing her legs and picking up the other wrinkled bills. She spreads them on her lap and smooths them as she talks, restoring them to pristine condition.

Missy: I thought we already discussed this. We’re on the same page about our little dynamic. And it’ll all be worth it, won’t it, when you get what you want… [ eyeing him ] if you truly care so much about UC Davis.

Lucas: There are things I care about more. [ a beat, then softer ] Things I don’t want to mess up.

Although he doesn’t say it, it’s fairly obvious what he’s thinking about. Missy’s not an idiot, and she knows where he stands with Riley. But he’s been willing to play along this long… and given her lack of context and history and how brusque Lucas tends to be around others, it’s unlikely Missy considers Riley much of an issue. But if he wants to continue the game…

Missy: And that’s why it’s a private affair. Hush-hush, just between you and me. There’s no guilt in what people don’t know. And besides, do you want to welcome all the additional trouble you’ll have to contend with if I don’t contribute? I think you’ve already got enough on your plate.

She finishes flattening the bills, placing them gingerly on the edge of the stage next to her. Ready to be his again, should he deem to take them. All of the rage that drove him to confront her has been extinguished, replaced with that cold, cornered feeling he always has when she’s there.

Missy: Focus on the big problems, Lucas. Showdown, your scholarship plans. And once that’s all squared away and the dust has settled… then we can explore what comes next. [ slipping off the stage ] One step at a time.

She passes him without another glance, making her way up the aisles and leaving him on that note. He starts to glance over his shoulder but ultimately doesn’t, not even wanting to look at her anymore. He looks a little sick.

But the money remains, waiting for him. No Missy there to scrutinize him as he takes it, no judgment being cast down on him but his own. He knows his truth. He knows what he cares about, what matters above all else. And money is money… he’s always known that… doesn’t matter where, or who, it comes from…

Lucas hangs stuck in that moment, torn between shame and sense.

INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - NIGHT

Long after the final bell of the day has rung, Isadora remains in the dance studio, going over the routine again. It’s usually Zay’s territory at this time of night, but instead of his perfected moves and graceful poise, Isadora is following the steps in almost a robotic manner, and cursing at herself whenever she makes a mistake.

Chai peeks her head around the door, having been practicing herself in another studio and wondering who’s still here. She watches Isadora struggle for a moment before stepping in and pressing pause on the music. Isadora looks over to her in shock. 

Chai: Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. What are you still doing here?

Isadora: What does it look like? Failing miserably at the routine.

Chai sighs in sympathy and shrugs off her sports duffel so that she can help Isadora. Isadora cringes as Chai does a couple of stretches to warm herself up again. 

Isadora: I feel bad. You already spent so long trying to help me and here I am the night before the showcase, as terrible as ever. 

Chai: You’re too hard on yourself. Everyone’s been struggling with the choreo since it changed in such short notice, and for a non-dancer you’re doing well. You remember all the steps, you just need to do them more gracefully.

Chai demonstrates one of the moves that Isadora was trying to do a moment earlier, but when Isadora copies, she doesn’t have the same natural rhythm and movement that Chai does. Chai tries coaching her through it, giving her instructions to twist a bit more, or move her arm like this and that, but it only makes Isadora more frustrated. 

Isadora: We’ve been trying this for days. It isn’t going to work. I’m a lost cause. 

Chai: Nobody is a lost cause. We just have to try something new.

Chai tells Isadora to do the routine again, and starts the music. She walks around Isadora as she dances, scrutinizing every move. At one point when Isadora seems particularly robotic in her movements, Chai reaches out to correct her position on instinct. She freezes when she realizes it might not want to be touched, hands hovering over Isadora’s hips. Isadora looks down at Chai’s hands and halts. 

Chai, shyly: Is this… okay?

Isadora gives a tentative nod. Chai rests her hands lightly on Isadora, and guides her through the movements. Both are quiet and a little tense, an odd tension in the air, but it isn’t uncomfortable.

As they get used to it, they relax and Isadora’s dancing becomes more natural. Once Chai thinks that she’s got it, she takes a step back and lets her hands drift away. She requests Isadora go through it again. This time, Isadora’s moves flow much better and she looks less awkward. Chai smiles brightly. 

Chai: You got it! 

Isadora: Really? 

Chai: Yeah, it’s looking good. Really good. Let's do it again.

Chai steps in line with Isadora, and they start the routine from scratch. That odd tension is still there, but it feels more like tentative excitement than anything else. They glance at each other as they step through moves in the routine, exchanging a smile before spinning in opposite directions.

INT. HAVERFORD PREP - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

The Haverford boys are wrapping up their last evening rehearsal before Saturday, all of them sweaty and exhausted. Even if they’re got an unfair advantage, they’re not going to skate on it.

What is interesting is that Charlie is nowhere to be seen. Everyone else is accounted for except him, and his absence is noticeable -- particularly on the eve of showdown. Brandon runs through final notes and reminders, then relaxes just a fraction to rally his boys and assure them that victory is all but guaranteed. All there is left to do is go out there and do the damn thing.

Hurrah! The Havies come together as Billy leads a rallying cheer, demonstrating that iron-clad brotherhood once again. They do a final hoot and cheer and disband just as Charlie appears in the wings, hanging back to let them have their moment.

As his classmates pass him, their reception towards him is mixed -- some are casual and friendly, as if nothing is out of the ordinary, while others shoot him dirty looks for his blatant skipping of rehearsal. Billy makes a point of bumping him with his shoulder.

Billy: Way to show up, C.

Charlie takes it all in stride, swallowing his nerves and not reacting. He waits until the rest of the class has cleared out, hovering on the sidelines until there’s nothing left for Brandon to do but address him.

Brandon: I’m assuming, since you deemed to grace me with your presence now, that you have a good reason for missing our last rehearsal before showdown.

There’s his cue. Charlie nods, stepping out of the shadows and joining him on the stage.

Charlie: I’m sorry about that. Just… a personal emergency.

Brandon, unimpressed: It doesn’t reflect well on you, Charles. I admit, I thought you were more reliable than that. [ off his sheepish expression ] But it’s fine, we all have off days. Thankfully we were able to work around you.

Charlie: That’s good. I’m glad to hear it. [ a beat ] If you’ve already figured that out, then you’ll be able to do it without me on Saturday.

Now that, Brandon wasn’t expecting. His eyebrows shoot up. Charlie holds his ground, trying not to wither under his stare and keep his voice even and resolute.

Charlie: Believe me, it’s not my ideal outcome, and I really don’t want to let the team down. You guys have been good to me, really taken me under your wing, and I needed that when I first got here. I don’t want to screw that up.

Brandon: But?

Charlie: But I don’t think I can get up there and compete against Adams. You and the boys deserve to have everyone on the same page, one hundred percent dedicated and focused on the win. And as much as I want to be a part of that, I know in my heart I won’t be able to deliver.

Brandon remains skillfully unreadable, simply listening without giving any of his reactions away. Charlie clears his throat.

Charlie: I like being at Haverford. I like being part of the brotherhood. But part of me will always be with Adams. Those people… they’re my family. And I can’t go against family. [ a beat ] You get that, right?

Considering his commitment to the brotherhood, you’d think he would. Brandon contemplates for a long moment, leaving Charlie nervous and vulnerable in the encroaching silence… one that grows more painful the longer it ticks on...

Then he smiles, suave and unbothered like always.

Brandon: Sure, Charles. I understand completely.

Charlie exhales, managing a relieved smile. He thanks Brandon for being so cool about it, and assures him that he’ll still be there on Saturday to support everyone. But this already feels so much better. He thanks Brandon one more time and then heads out, wishing him luck for the whole team as he goes.

Brandon upholds his pleasant smile until Charlie is gone, granting him an easy wave as he steps out the door. But once he’s out of sight, the charm dissipates. His expression sours, the barbed edges bleeding through his smooth demeanor.

Announcer, pre-lap: Ladies and gentlemen, we’re in for a face-off for the ages!

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - LOBBY - DAY

Saturday. The day of senior showdown. The energy is electric as we move through the elegant space, the same arts and cultural center where the Jacobs Gala was held in 112. It’s grandiose and professional-grade, a sense of the big leagues if there ever was one. It’s like one step below an actual Broadway stage -- think the Dolby Theatre Oscars vibes, or the Kennedy Center.

The place is already buzzing with life, venue officials rushing to and fro to keep things organized and groups from different schools wandering and congregating. Adams and Haverford are only one showdown of many this afternoon, as the announcers explain over the scenery that senior showdown is an annual event that encompasses multiple forms of competitive art and multiple delegations of the cream of the crop. Manhattan is only a piece of the program today -- though admittedly, it’s one of the most anticipated segments of the day.

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The announcers say as much, describing that the orchestra showdowns will kick us off, followed by show choir, dance troupe, and a couple of other categories. And then by this afternoon, we’ll dive into the highly awaited performance showdowns, including the two Manhattan elites: Adams Academy for the Arts versus their long-time rivals and reigning six-year champs, Haverford Preparatory Academy. As they wrap up their opening spiel, we get a look at the fancy stage digs they’ll be working with, already filling up with spectators.

What a way to fund the arts. It’s time to showdown!

EXT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - DAY

Well, not quite yet time. The A class still has time to spare, and things are much quieter over in the East Village.

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

Which is where we find Riley and Lucas, picking up a couple of items for showdown that Lucas had been storing for safe-keeping. His shoebox bedroom is remarkably neater than we’ve seen it in the past, all that spring cleaning from last year having paid off. It’s at least decent enough that he’s allowing Riley to be in it -- though the reasoning for that is more likely the lack of a certain someone or something.

Either way, they’re not staying long. Lucas hands the materials to Riley and they head out, discussing how long they think it’ll take to get uptown. Traffic is pretty dastardly today, apparently, especially around the venue.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - DAY

They duck out of Lucas’s room and he shuts the door behind him. He tells Riley to give him one second while he grabs one more thing from the closet, jogging out of sight down the tiny hallway. She says no worries, perfectly content to wait on her own and take in every last detail of his home given how rarely she’s allowed inside to see it.

When suddenly the door opens in the entryway. Riley freezes, staring towards the doorway. She braces herself for the worst, completely unsure what might happen or what she should do if he shows up. Worried about what might happen to Lucas…

But it’s not the worst. It’s only GRACE FRIAR, who mirrors Riley’s surprise as she enters the living area and finds her unexpectedly parked in her apartment. She’s dressed for work at the florist, dressed in a worn but pretty floral dress and an evergreen apron, light hair pulled back out of her face.

Riley, uncertainly: Hi.

Lucas reappears in the next instant, having rushed back when he heard the noise. He’s relieved to find it’s only his mother, but barely. He quickly comes to stand at Riley’s side, evidently nervous at this turn of events. It was never part of his plan.

Lucas: Mom. What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t going to be home.

Grace, timid: I swapped shifts with another employee. Since Kenneth is in Jersey for the game, I thought I’d try and see if I could free up my afternoon to see your showdown performance today. [ glancing at Riley ] And I guess I got lucky.

Oh. That’s nice. Lucas wasn’t expecting it, uncertain what to say next. He only figures it out when he realizes how intently Riley and Grace are looking at each other, both fascinated and curious and definitely a bit nervous. He clears his throat, awkwardly scratching his neck.

Lucas: Um, this is Riley. Riley, this is my mom.

Very informative, Lucas. But that’s all Riley needs, and with permission to interact, her bubbly charm does the rest. She steps forward, holding out a hand and offering a sincere smile.

Riley: Hi again. It’s so nice to finally meet you.

Grace: [ accepting her handshake ] Likewise. Unexpected, though… I suppose the best things in life are.

She chuckles anxiously, and Riley does her the favor of laughing along with her. So skilled at making others feel comfortable, like that’s just naturally how she operates.

Grace: I’m sorry I’m so unprepared. If I had known I would’ve… cleaned up, or had something ready to…

Riley: Oh, please, no. Don’t worry about it. I’m the one intruding on you.

Lucas: And we’re just passing through. Picking up a couple things. [ pointedly ] And we should go if we want to beat the traffic --

Grace: Right. Right, of course. Don’t let me get in your way.

Grace quickly steps to the side, an expert at making herself smaller. She skirts around them and gives them easy access to the entryway and a swift exit, wishing both of them luck with showdown. Hopefully she’ll be able to make it down there.

Riley, enthusiastically: You definitely should. It’s going to be an amazing show. And our competition is notoriously tough to beat, so they should at least be enjoyable.

With a pitch like that, how could she say no? Riley should do marketing for the showdown committee. And she could probably find generous ways to keep the conversation going for hours, but Lucas is keen to expedite this escape and gently nudges her towards the door. She gifts Grace one more goodbye before they depart.

Although she wasn’t prepared for it, Grace seems happy with the introduction. A light smile lingers on her face.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - DAY

DONNA BABINEAUX pulls open the front door, finding Nigel and Yindra on the doorstep. Yindra already has her hair and make-up done, looking stellar, and Nigel’s hair is brushed up out of his face. Donna seems unsurprised to see them, stepping back and knowingly nodding towards the stairs.

Donna: He’s in his room. Good luck.

Nigel and Yindra exchange a look.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - DAY

Zay is far from ready to roll, still wrapped up in his blankets and hunkered down to wallow. His boot rests on the floor at the foot of his bed.

He’s looking at videos on his phone, mainly of the days when he could dance. The semis routine, clips from rehearsals pre-injury, ones he recorded that he ended up using for his applications. Today is the day he’s supposed to be doing all of it, helping elevate Adams to victory.

And that’s not the only thing interspersed throughout his library as he flicks through files. There are videos of him with his friends, too, and the ones he always hovers on longer are the ones of Charlie. Ones that are now almost a year old, like them rehearsing in their usual studio together, goofing off, or where he didn’t even realize Zay was filming. The one he hesitates on longer than the rest involves Charlie laying where he is right now, bashful and uncontrollably giggling while Zay picks on him from off-screen.

It’s all mixed together, all haunting him in different ways, but it doesn’t set him off anymore. There’s no more aggressive fuel compensating for the loss, so now it simply aches. Crazy, how much has changed in so little time… how he has no idea how much of it will change back or inevitably shift again from underneath him…

Yindra and Nigel swing open his door, startling him. He quickly locks his phone and grumbles at them as to what the hell they’re doing.

Zay: Why are you here? You can’t be all the way in Queens when you should be at the venue already.

Yindra: We know. It’s a calculated risk.

Nigel: But if we should be there, we could say the same to you.

Zay huffs, tossing his phone onto the covers and sinking deeper into his bed. They must have miscalculated, because they’re wasting precious time. He’s not performing, so he has no reason to be there like them. He’s not going.

They thought he might say that -- and they’re not taking no for an answer. Not now, on a day that means everything. In a surprisingly feisty move, Nigel leans forward and rips the blankets off him.

Nigel: Get up.

Zay: Yo, what the hell --

Yindra: Damn, Nige.

Zay: What’s your deal? Did you not hear me? There is no reason for me to go. I can’t perform, and sitting there watching what I can’t do doesn’t sound like an exciting afternoon for me. I have nothing to contribute, so why should I bother?

Nigel: Bullshit.

Yindra: Damn, Nige.

Nigel: That’s bullshit, Zay! You know it is. You have contributed plenty to our setlist -- you choreographed an entirely new routine in a week!

Yindra: True.

Nigel: We never would’ve been able to pull that off without you. And we still won’t if you’re not there, because I’m more than positive some of us are going to need refreshers right up until we get on that stage. You know, since again, we picked it up in a week.

Yindra: Also true.

Nigel: And even if that weren’t the case, it shouldn’t matter anyway. You should want to be there because this is it, man. We have worked our butts off for three years to get to this point. And I agree, it sucks that you can’t be up there on dancing it out with us -- you know I think that. But that doesn’t mean you should forgo it all and crawl under a rock to wait it out. This is one of those experiences we’re going to remember forever, and I know you. You don’t want to be the person who missed it all and can’t share in the memories because he didn’t even try. Even if you can’t be on stage yourself, you should want to show up for the rest of us. For Riley, for Yindra. For me. I think you want to, underneath your pride and your self-pity. [ a beat ] And deep down, I think you know that if you tap out and skip it, you’re going to regret it forever.

Wow. It would be a good argument on its own, but since it’s coming from an impassioned Nigel, it’s especially compelling. Yindra stares at her usually laid back, non-confrontational best friend, jaw hanging open slightly.

Yindra, hushed: Damn, Nigel! Where has this been for the last three years?

Yindra shifts her wide eyes to Zay. You’re seeing this too, right? But Nigel doesn’t break, holding Zay’s gaze and continuing the encouragement with his classic Shakespearean smolder.

Finally, Zay relents. He pushes himself forward to the edge of the bed and asks them to hand him his boot, and for Yindra to grab something from his closet for him to throw on. They’re going to have to move fast if they want to get there on time.

Zay: [ as Yindra dashes to his closet ] Pick something fresh!

Yindra, off-screen: You insult me!

Nigel hands him his boot, Zay taking it gratefully. He meets his eyes again.

Zay: Thanks for not leaving me behind.

Nigel, sincere: “To me, fair friend, you never can be old.”

Okay, Bard nerd. But it’s sweet, and the sentiment obviously means a lot to Zay.

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - LOBBY - DAY

Eric and Isadora arrive together, the latter in a rush to get backstage. She thanks Eric for driving and promises she’ll see him after the show, and he shouts a good luck after her in return.

Once he’s alone, he scans the room and all the well-dressed patrons mixing and mingling. An usher offers him a program and he takes it cheerfully, but he finally spots who he’s looking for before he can read it.

JACK HUNTER. It’s like he hasn’t been able to find him all week — and this seems like the kind of time where you want your principal to be around. He’s conversing with EVELYN RAND, charming and professional as always.

Eric heads over to join them, friendly but keeping that healthy distance between them after their discussion last week. Evelyn brightens when she sees him approaching, giving him a jolly hello and stating she better be off. Performances to see! But she is wishing the best of luck to them and the delegation from Adams.

Evelyn departs, leaving the two of them alone. They exchange warm greetings, though it’s muted from Jack. They mention all of the stuff they heard about the scramble the A class went through from Lucas and Isadora, noting the stacked odds.

Eric: Well, all we can hope is that they managed to pull it together. They’ve done it before -- I believe they’ll do it again.

Jack: Yeah… yes, me too.

But given his own stacked odds at the moment, Jack’s belief doesn’t seem wholly convincing. Eric clocks his apprehension, the way he feels like a shade of his former self. He steps a little closer, dropping his voice to a murmur.

Eric: Things will work out, Jack. You don’t have to disappear from the equation for things to work out.

Jack doesn’t seem convinced. Eric frowns. He starts to say more, but Jack’s eye has caught HARRISON YANCY across the room, mingling with JEFFERSON DAVIS GRAHAM and other prominent school board members. They cast a glance in his direction, unreadable, holding too much power in their hands.

Jack clears his throat, creating more distance between him and Eric as he starts to retreat.

Jack: Should head on in. I believe Harper saved us a seat. Wouldn’t want to miss our competition’s performance.

Eric glances over his shoulder where Jack was looking, spotting the crowd of conservative board hawks. He scowls, starting to comment, but when he turns back around Jack is already gone.

INT. RILEY’S CAR - DAY

Lucas and Riley arrive around the same time, pulling into a parking spot and killing the engine. Lucas is behind the wheel today, and from how quiet the car is it seems there wasn’t much chatter on the drive over. The two of them sit in the silence for a moment, Riley searching for a way to broach the subject.

Riley: … your mom seems really nice. It’s cool that she wants to come to showdown. You know, maybe we should’ve offered her a ride…

Lucas, quickly: I’m sorry about how I acted. That I like, rushed you out of there.

Riley: It’s okay. I figured it caught everyone by surprise.

Lucas: It’s not that I don’t want you to meet her. Or don’t want her to meet you. I’m not trying to hide you or anything. [ scoffing ] Honestly, if there’s anything in my life worth showing off, I know full well what it is. And it’s not like I think she wouldn’t like you -- I mean, it’s impossible not to.

Riley smiles, bashful. He’s still nervous, keeping his eyes on the keys rather than her, but he pushes through the vulnerability anyway. Really trying.

Lucas: It’s just that… things with them… me and my parents, it’s not… it’s weird. They’ve never -- my mom, she doesn’t even really feel like… it’s more like we’re… I don’t know, roommates rather than blood. Prisonmates, sometimes. [ chuckling awkwardly, then frowning; he just can’t say anything right ] It’s not that I don’t… I know she cares about me. In her way. I just didn’t… it’s hard to explain. It’s all kinda fucked up, and I didn’t want to get you all… tangled into it. [ a beat ] But I don’t want you thinking it’s because of you, because it’s not.

He said more than enough. Riley reaches across the console and gently touches his cheek, waiting for him to meet her eyes.

Riley: It’s okay. I understand. But thank you for telling me.

Lucas nods. She turns the light touch into a caress, stroking her thumb against his cheekbone. He closes his eyes and leans into the gesture.

Riley: She really did seem lovely. Pretty, and super sweet. [ fondly ] I see her in you.

It’s possible no one has ever said that to Lucas before. He processes the compliment, letting it sink in, then manages a shy smile. He takes her hand in his own, pressing a soft kiss to her palm and then linking their fingers together.

They soak in the peace, the kind they can always rely on to find with each other… and they’re going to need it, because it won’t last long inside that venue…

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - DRESSING ROOM HALL - DAY

Case in point, backstage it’s a circus as performers scramble to get ready. Isadora is marching through the chaos, back in stage manager mode, trying to account for everybody and figure out what fires are still left to be put out. One of which would be the fact that so many people from their team still aren’t here -- Nigel and Yindra; Jade with the costumes; Farkle; Riley and Lucas.

She shouts amidst the group if anyone has seen any of them. Darby stops mid-jog to the girls dressing room.

Darby: Farkle is already here, I saw him. We were a couple of the first to arrive.

Isadora: And where is he now?

Darby: No idea. But he’s around here somewhere!

Isadora: Perfect. That’s so helpful. Absolutely enlightening information!

Isadora whips around just as Riley and Lucas make their way into the hall. She exhales a dramatic sigh, complimenting them sarcastically for finally making it. At least somebody can roll up when they’re needed. The two of them exchange a yikes look, scooting around Isadora carefully so as not to detonate her further.

Isadora: And where the hell are Nigel and Yindra?!

INT. NIGEL’S CAR - MOVING - DAY

Nigel and Yindra are en route, but “moving” might be a misleading slugline. They’re stuck in that bumper-to-bumper traffic Riley and Lucas were discussing, tensions high as they race to make it to the venue.

Yindra: This is going to give me high blood pressure! Can’t you go any faster, Nigel?

Nigel: GO? GO WHERE, YINDRA? I CAN’T GO FASTER WHEN WE’RE STOPPED.

Zay leans forward between them from the middle backseat, breaking into their bickering to inform them of updates from Riley. They’re transitioning into the performing arts section of the program, which means the clock is ticking down by the second. Yindra and Nigel continue to bicker, volume rising under the stress, until Zay finally smacks Nigel’s shoulder to get his attention.

Nigel: WHAT?

Zay: GREEN LIGHT. CARS MOVING.

Yindra: GO! GO! GO!

Nigel: AHHHHHHHHHHHHH --

Nigel hits the gas, and they’re moving once again --

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - BACKSTAGE - DAY

Riley is concealed in the shadows of the wings, watching nervously as another school from a different league showdown completes their routine. Based on the music playing, they’re going for a more classical repertoire, but Riley seems grateful they don’t have even more competition to be worried about than just Haverford.

She leans forward just enough to peer through the curtain, still hidden but able to glimpse the grand house beyond the stage. It seems like a pretty packed audience, and somewhere out there are the judges who will decide their fate. Their standing against Haverford, the future of Lucas’s scholarship initiative, the spirit of her class… the weight of all the above resting on her shoulders and creating the subtle frown on her face.

Brandon: Nice accommodations, aren’t they?

Riley spins and comes face to face with Brandon. He’s already dressed in his performance attire -- no longer quite as glossy and more refined to contrast AAA’s original shiny style -- but he’s taken the time to double check that everything is right where it needs to be for their setlist… and apparently, to run into her.

Brandon: I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of formally meeting yet, Riley. [ offering a hand ] Brandon Rivas.

She’s not eager to change that, but Riley is socially savvy. She knows how to play things right, so she mirrors his pleasant smile and accepts the handshake.

Riley: Oh, I’ve heard all about you. But I’m sure you already know that.

Brandon: Guilty as charged. There’s not much I don’t know. But it would be hard for me not to know you, considering how often Charles has talked about you. He speaks highly of you, rest assured.

Riley: That I believe. Charlie is a good friend. I wouldn’t expect any less from him.

Brandon: Yes… he is, isn’t he.

They exchange a couple more small talk niceties, including Riley mentioning that she’s heard they were quite impressive at semis. Both of them have their work cut out for them, facing each other. Brandon shrugs humbly, then claims he should go gather the boys. The team on stage is wrapping up, and then they’ve only got 10 minutes to show. But he’s pleased they had the chance to meet.

Brandon: Good to confer leader to leader -- makes for good sportsmanship. I know there are power structures in place at Adams, but to my understanding, it’s you who pulls the strings across the park. The true brains of the operation.

Well, if we’re aiming for good sportsmanship, the Havies are already laps behind. And Riley clearly doesn’t like his tone, what he’s subtly implying about her friends -- including and especially her boyfriend.

But she doesn’t show it, merely sharpening her smile instead.

Riley: I wouldn’t underestimate any of my cohort.

Tell him, Riles! Brandon starts to back off, easing further into the shadows.

Brandon: Break a leg -- though you probably can’t afford many more of those, can you?

Oh, shots are being fired. Riley’s expression twitches, but she doesn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. She releases a pointed exhale once he’s gone, the audience launching into applause behind her indicating that the time to bring it is in fact inching closer and closer…

EXT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - ROOFTOP - DAY

The exterior of the venue is less glamorous but just as stunning as the interior. A beautiful rooftop terrace acts as a place for guests to mingle during intermissions or events, similar to the outer walkways of the Kennedy Center. It provides a gorgeous view of the city stretched out around them, the sky a hazy periwinkle on this chilly early December afternoon.

Farkle seems to be enjoying the cold, though. He’s perched on a bench looking out towards the south of the island, just glimpsing the peak of his building in the financial district. He closes his eyes and inhales deep, absorbing the cold air and letting it cool his nerves. He’s hiding his costume under his coat, but we can see the beginnings of what the aesthetic might be given the stardust-like eyeshadow and eyeliner he’s sporting.

His momentary peace is destroyed when Isadora slams open the door and stomps towards him, hands on hips.

Isadora: There you are! Do you know how stressed I am already attempting to manage everyone before this absolutely convoluted last-minute showdown showcase without you deciding to disappear off the face of the earth? Why the hell are you out here?

A couple of other patrons stare at them, then awkwardly retreat towards the other side of the roof. Theater kids. Farkle glances around them to see if anyone else reacted, then mutters a halfhearted apology. Isadora sighs, unimpressed, but shifts her demeanor to be less threatening (or at least, she tries).

Isadora: What’s going on with you? You haven’t been in your right mind recently and I’m starting to worry. 

Farkle, dryly: Do I even have a right mind to be in? 

Isadora: I’m assuming that’s rhetorical, so I won’t respond. Just tell me what’s wrong and I’ll fix it. 

Farkle: Nothing you can do. Or anybody. I’m cursed. This is just something I have to deal with on my own.

Isadora scoffs and rolls her eyes. 

Isadora: You’re being such a little bitch right now. 

Farkle, surprised: Excuse me?

Isadora: You’ve been spaced out for days, you drop out of the showcase, you hide yourself away from everybody. Fine, do what you have to do. But at least tell me why. Don’t just sit there moaning like a crybaby about dealing with it by yourself. If you tell me, then you don’t have to do it alone. Simple. 

Farkle: But there’s nothing you can do to help. Why bother you with my stuff when you’re so stressed already?

With a sigh, Isadora sits down next to him. 

Isadora: You being all depressed and closed off is one of the main things stressing me out, for your information. 

Farkle: [ relenting ] Fine. My therapist told me that I’m bipolar.

And there it is. Out in the open, even if Farkle looks extremely sulky while saying so. Isadora nods at the reveal, not all that surprised. 

Isadora: That makes sense. It was one of the things I suspected you might have. 

Farkle: One of?

Isadora: Oh, I had a whole list of possible diagnoses for you. How are you dealing with it? You don’t seem particularly happy about it.

No kidding. Farkle explains how he’s struggling to grapple with the diagnosis, and how it’s thrown his entire sense of identity into question. Isadora listens to him carefully, nodding along while she thinks. 

Isadora: I get that. When my social worker first told me that she suspected I might be autistic, I hated it. I only knew about autism through Rain Man and Sheldon Cooper, so I wasn’t thrilled. I thought it meant that I was an antisocial freak who could never make friends. But as I learned more about it, the more I like… made sense to myself. It wasn’t just me against the world anymore -- there were other people out there like me, who understood me. 

Farkle: I’ve been researching a lot, but that hasn’t helped. 

Isadora: Have you joined any online communities? Read about it from an actual bipolar person’s perspective?

Farkle admits that he hasn’t, so Isadora suggests that he do that. 

Isadora: I know that right now it’s scary -- like your entire world has changed and you no longer fit into it. But you’re still the same Farkle, and we’re still the same world. Nothing has changed except for a label; a label which will allow you to access resources that will actually help you. 

Farkle: What helped you come to terms with your diagnosis? 

Isadora: Lucas and Riley. I got diagnosed in middle school, and I didn’t really have any friends then. When I started at Triple A, I did a lot of research on how to cope in high school and make friends. It all felt way too forced and awkward, and I was so sure that I would never have any. That because of the way I was, I would also be an outcast. [ a beat as she remembers ] With Lucas, everything happened naturally. We just clicked, and started to spend almost all our time together. 

Farkle, under his breath: Codependency...

Isadora: He made me realize that I could have friends, and that I was enough exactly as I am. Then, sophomore year, Riley came along. I had to make an effort to be friends with her, there was compromise and a lot of learning moments. She helped me whenever I was struggling and didn’t judge me for my mistakes. They both accepted and loved me wholly. [ looking to Farkle ] I accept and love you wholly, Farkle. And I will be here to help you figure it out, I promise.

As Isadora gives him a warm smile, Farkle seems unable to speak. His eyes are glossy, but shining with something else too as he looks at her. He swallows before thanking her.

She stands up and offers him a hand.

Isadora: Will you come downstairs and participate now?

Despite not needing to, Farkle takes Isadora’s hand to help pull him up. Isadora lets go as soon as he’s up, but he’ll take it. As the bouncy and energetic percussion of “Seize the Day” slowly grows louder from below…

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Haverford is running through the tail-end of their opening number, giving an excellent show already. Considering Brandon gifted Charlie the opportunity to take the solo in the first place, he steps back into it effortlessly, so it’s not as though they’re completely hobbled without him. Still, the dancing isn’t quite as precise, not exactly as compelling, and Brandon lacks his earnest spark that left such an impression the first time around.

But they’re not at all out of the race. They’re still intimidating competition to be up against, and they’re leaving nothing to chance. The applause is effusive as the lights dim and they wrap up the Newsies number, quickly rearranging formation to get ready for the next one.

This is when Charlie makes his entrance, quietly moving through the house and finding a couple free seats in the back center section. He settles into a spot just as Haverford is beginning their second, new number, the lights brightening again.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Sherry” as performed by Franki Valli & The Four Seasons || Performed by Haverford Seniors

Dweezil starts us off front and center, the rest of the boys standing in formation behind him as the jaunty, rhythmic orchestration kicks off. He takes the lead due to his impressive falsetto, and when he starts to step along in some simple movements to the beat, the boys layer in on the harmonies and echo his movements. It creates that same chilling, enchanting effect they showed us from their first performance in 301, the sensation of watching a machine in perfect sync.

And Brandon’s strategic adjustment of their setlist is on full display with their new choice. It’s indisputably classic, a callback to different times and classier days, which is a major deviation from AAA’s original contemporary setlist. The simple choreography allows them to emphasize their well-oiled machine feature, and the choice shows off their harmonies and vocal range just as much if not better than another pop hit from PRETTYMUCH.

It’s impossible not to tap your foot along, and without a doubt will butter up the older judges who feel rosy about that era. Say what you want about Brandon, but there’s no denying the man thinks of everything.

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - PARKING GARAGE - DAY

Nigel, Yindra, and Zay finally arrive, wasting no time in hopping out of the car and booking it. Nigel freezes halfway around the front, eyes wide, while Zay scrambles to get out of the backseat with one good foot.

Nigel: Pass. I need a pass. Where do I get a pass?

Yindra: [ slamming the car door ] No time!

Nigel: I need a pass or I’m gonna get a ticket!

Yindra: THEN GET A TICKET.

Nigel lets out another exasperated yell, hoping for the best and starting to sprint after Yindra. Zay tries to hobble after them, but he’s not nearly fast enough.

Zay: Um, guys --

Nigel: Zay --

Zay: No, it’s fine. I’ll make it eventually. Go on without me. Save yourselves.

Nigel: I swear, damn Shakespearean tragedy in this trio --

Yindra glances between them, then back at Zay, conflicted. But she doesn’t want to leave him behind…

Yindra: Oh, for fuck’s sake.

EXT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - DAY

The three of them emerge from the garage and make for the steps up to the main entrance, Yindra now carrying Zay piggyback style while Nigel takes the lead. He makes it to the top of the steps, shouting for them to hurry up.

Yindra: Excuse me, you’re not the one carrying another person! No, I had to because of your frail vegetarian bones!

Nigel: Vegetarianism has nothing to do with your bones, in fact studies show it improves --

Yindra/Zay: NOT NOW.

Zay: Go, go, go!

Nigel holds open the door for them to zoom past, diving in after them.

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - DRESSING ROOM - DAY

The A class has assembled in the dressing room together while the Havies finish their set. They’re mostly all dressed up and ready to go, though it’s obvious elements of their costumes are missing.

The girls are dressed in shimmery leotards with intricate detailing on the bodices,  alternating in either silver or gold, and lower halves that are closer to shorts than an actual leotards would be. The only exception is Yindra’s, still hanging on the rack, which is ruby red. They also vary in sleeve length, some closer to tanks while others have long sleeves similar to this. The boys are dressed in red dress shirts that appear to match the design of the leotards, but they’re currently concealed under sleek but breathable black suit jackets, and their pants are silky and alternate in either silver or gold.

On top of traditional stage makeup, the girls also have a bit of rouge to accent the color scheme and bright red lips. Every single one of the performers has shimmery gold eyeshadow accenting their eyeliner, and Darby and Chai are taking careful care to give each of them a sprinkling of crimson rhinestones just around the corners of their eyes.

Riley is just finishing up pinning her hair, styled so it’s tumbling stylishly over one shoulder but will hold. She’s been trying to keep it cool all afternoon but the nerves are starting to creep up on her now -- especially since once again so many of them are missing down to the wire. Maybe they won’t be able to pull it together in the nick of time after all…

Isadora is also feeling the pressure, marching back into the dressing room with Farkle in tow. Her tenderness from that conversation is long gone. Darby gestures Farkle over to get his crimson added, while Isadora threatens to implode over the fact that certain people still aren’t here. Are they trying to send her into cardiac arrest? Maya raises her eyebrows from where she’s volumizing her award-winning golden locks, fussing it up with her hands to give it that starkissed quality.

Maya: Wow. Is that what I sound like?

Yogi: Most of the time, yes.

Maya: Well. Happy to hear I sound like a passionate, intense woman with vision.

Chai tries to calm Isadora, tentatively reaching out and patting her shoulder. Isadora allows the touch, willing to take serenity from any source right now.

Sarah, Missy, and Nate all rush into the room at the same time, claiming that they’ve bought them a little more time. Sarah says she complained to one of the stage managers so much about something nitpicky that they almost started crying, so now they’re pausing to fix it; Nate straight up just stole one of the announcers microphones and hid it so now they’re stalling to look for it. And Missy paid off one of the stagehands to get the crowd to do a 7th-inning style stretch like in baseball, just for theater nerds.

Darby: Seriously? I didn’t think they’d go with something silly like that.

Missy: When someone slides over a few hundreds, people will do anything.

Maybe so. If it buys them even a few more minutes before they have to get ready to hit their marks, so be it.

Thankfully, the cavalry rolls up just in time. Nigel and Yindra race through the doors, everyone exclaiming palpable relief. Yindra waves them all off and immediately grabs her leotard to start changing, wondering if they’ve gotten the rest of their costumes yet. Zay limps in a few moments later, everyone greeting him cheerfully in spite of their anxieties.

Riley slides over and pulls him into a tight hug.

Riley: I’m so glad you came.

Zay: Yeah, well, I’ve got good friends and am attracting wake-up calls like a magnet these days. Honestly, if this one could be the last one for a while, I’d appreciate it.

With that, Zay wishes all of them the best of luck, assuring them he’ll be out there cheering them on. They cheer him off, then frantically go back to pulling themselves together.

The last missing link swoops in just as Zay disappears, Jade entering to great fanfare with Dave, Jeff, and Lucas on her heels. They’re carrying the last remaining costume pieces, basically hot off the sewing machine, Jade holding a pretty-looking gauzy fabric in her arms while the boys are holding bulkier items.

Jade: Okay, now we’re ready to roll.

Riley, in awe: Jade, you are a genius.

All of them gleefully commend Jade for her hard work, swarming the boys to get their last costume piece -- for the girls, blazers similar to the ones the boys already have. But they’re glossy silver and gold, at least as far as we can see. Nigel is staring at Jade, mouth parted open, once again struck by how she manages to pull off the impossible.

Jade: Make sure you’re picking one that matches your leotard, and remember when you do the reverse to move gently, even though you’re moving fast. These are durable, but you don’t want to risk tearing it apart in the middle of the set.

Then Jade gestures Yindra forward, handing off the last piece to her. She tells her how to put it on and fasten it correctly, and also how to remove it correctly while still allowing for showy flair. But she knows she can handle it -- and it was custom-made for her, so.

Yindra: My very own Jade Beamon original. [ with a grin ] Coveted rite of diva passage.

Jade beams. But their nice moment is interrupted -- and from a very uncommon source of interruption, at that.

Nigel, boldly: Jade.

She jumps lightly, swiveling to find him. Yindra makes a face, stepping back a bit, and it’s like the seas part for them to be able to see each other. The entire A class goes silent -- a rare feat -- watching the interaction with rapt interest.

Jade: … yes?

Well, he’s done it now. Now is the moment to say what he needs to say -- if he fumbles it now, he may not ever get the frenzied courage to speak again. He takes a deep breath, holding her gaze, speaking confidently even though he’s breathless.

Nigel: You are the most incredible person I’ve ever met.

Jade has stopped breathing, standing like a deer in headlights at the center of the room. She knows all eyes are on her, and that shy part of her core is quaking… but there’s a hopeful gleam in her eyes, too. An electricity that doesn’t let her look away, doesn’t let her even think about escape. And she doesn’t want to anyway. This moment is something she’s daydreamed about since she was fourteen... is it finally actually happening…

Jade: … yeah?

Nigel: Yes. You outshine everything else. You never cease to amaze me, you consistently pull off the impossible. You’re insanely talented, and yet you’re one of the most down-to-earth people I know. I like down-to-earth.

With each statement, Nigel slowly closes the distance between them, coming to join her at the center. She doesn’t stop him, not able to do anything but keep looking at him.

Nigel: I like you.

Jade: Oh.

Nigel: And I know I’m quiet, and hesitant, and don’t usually speak my mind. I’ve been distracted, and clueless, and some have even called me a chickenshit.

Yindra, quietly: Well, we don’t need to bring that up right now...

Nigel: I know all that, and I know it hurt you. It made you unsure, and I completely get that. But I’m not distracted now. I’ve got a clue. And I’m not scared anymore.

He’s right in front of her now, only a bit of space between them. Jade gazes up at him, holding her ground, but that hopeful gleam has spread into an aura. It’s bouncing between them, it’s filling up the room.

Nigel, softly: And I don’t know if I’ll ever stop being quiet --

Jade: … I like quiet…

Nigel: But I’m speaking up now. I’ll speak as loud as I need to make sure you hear it. I like you. I like you, Jade Beamon. And if you’re not too busy being the incredible woman you are… I’d like to take you on a date.

Whew! The class is holding their breath, riveted like it’s their very own TV show, waiting to see what happens next. There’s a pause, a beat of uncertainty where we don’t know what direction things are going to go… and then Jade breaks into a smile.

Jade: Yeah. [ nodding eagerly ] Yeah, okay, I’d like that.

VICTORY! Not the main one of the evening, but a victory nonetheless. Nigel mirrors her smile, obviously relieved, as the Yogi starts an uproarious clap that the rest of the class echoes. Once they’ve just a few moments to soak it in, Lucas clears his throat.

Lucas: This is nice, and everything, but is it really the best time…

Nigel snaps his head to look at him, smile dropping. His expression is incredulous.

Nigel: Are you kidding me? For real? As if you all haven’t been making dramatic scenes and making everything about you for the last three years?!

Maya: Well.

Nigel: But no, I make one statement one time --

Yindra, to Darby: I swear, whatever Nigel is on today, I want some of it.

His (perhaps righteous) tirade towards the mains is cut short, though, an usher popping his head in and explaining that they finally found that missing microphone. So they should be backstage for places in about five minutes and counting.

That’s one way to get everyone back on track. Lucas tells Dave and Nate to go head backstage, the two of them exchanging quick bro hugs with Dylan, Asher, and Jeff and wishing them luck before they zoom off. Lucas takes one last second to reach Riley, taking her hand and accepting the brief kiss she gives him automatically. They keep their foreheads pressed together, pretending for an instant amidst the chaos that it’s just the two of them.

Lucas: You look amazing. You’re going to kill this thing.

Riley: Ditto. [ breathy ] I love you.

Lucas nods, opening his mouth as if he’s going to respond. Like he’s going to say it back, like it’s right on the tip of his tongue… but it doesn’t come. Not yet. He kisses her again instead, pointedly, then he pulls away and dashes out after Nate and Dave. Missy eyes him as he goes, expression hard to read.

Riley takes a deep breath, holds it, lets it go, and spins to rally the troops together. She gathers them in a circle and Maya leads them in an empowering but kickass -- and classically Maya -- pep talk to hype them up. Then Dylan takes the lead, putting his hand in the middle. The rest of them follow without hesitation, and he leads them in the war-cry pump-up ritual he usually  leads the techies in before shows. Let’s go, Triple A. Let’s go, Triple A. LET’S GO, TRIPLE A --

Then they throw their arms in the air, full to bursting with infectious energy as they look towards the ceiling -- or in this case, at us, looking down on them from above.

LET’S GO!

Break 2.

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - LOBBY - DAY

A couple of light dings and the venue lights dimming and rising indicate to those mingling outside that the intermission between competitors is nearing its end. Charlie finishes the cup of water he was drinking, tossing it into the recycling and turning to head back towards the auditorium -- when he locks eyes with Zay, also slowly making his way in that direction from the dressing room hall. Charlie approaches uncertainly.

Charlie: Hi.

Zay, awkwardly: Hey. [ eyeing his plain clothes ] What are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be backstage, embroiled in a post-performance high?

Charlie: [ with a nervous laugh ] Actually, no. I chose not to perform.

Zay raises his eyebrows, surprised. His non-answer begs for further explanation, though, so Charlie shyly elaborates.

Charlie: It just didn’t feel right. Don’t get me wrong, it was fun, getting to be front and center for a time. Try something new. But going up against you all… I don’t know. Just didn’t feel like me.

Zay: I bet nefarious factors behind the scenes didn’t improve that feeling either.

Charlie: No, yeah… yeah, that didn’t help. [ with a shrug ] Oh well. Just one performance, right? No big deal.

But it is. It’s one of the biggest deals of the year, and they both know it. Charlie sacrificed his chance to be a part of it, and risked a lot more in telling them the truth so they could save their routine -- and yet, that doesn’t feel out of character for him at all. Zay knows all too well.

Zay: Well, at least you didn’t fully turn yourself over to the dark side. [ off his amused head shake ] I guess it’s nice to hear that even with all the other changes, you’ve managed to remember who you are.

Charlie: … maybe, yeah. But thanks. That means a lot, coming from you.

He should know, as perhaps the only person who ever really knew him in the first place. The sentiment lingers between them, trapping them back in that uncertain space of not knowing exactly where they stand. It looks like Charlie wants to say more, but the intercom dings again, signaling that Adams’ performance is imminent.

Charlie: It’s great you could be here to support them, though. Even though you can’t perform yourself. [ a beat ] I’ve got a seat open next to me… you know, if you haven’t settled anywhere yet.

Another beat of hesitancy… and then Zay nods.

Zay: Since the rest of my crew is a little busy… yeah. That’d be cool.

Just the right amount of arrogance and graciousness, and a perfect dose of Zay. Charlie smiles instinctively, the two of them heading towards the doors together.

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The lights dim, the announcer introducing Adams Academy of the Arts as the next showcase. The curtain is closed, and behind it the performers are heading to their places. Dave, Nate, and Jade, dressed in all black, are gearing up their rolling flats backstage for when they’re needed. A few rows of steps have been installed in the back leading to a high point where a doorway disappears to backstage, but nearly all of the A class is arranged in windows in front of it on the stage. They’re facing away from the audience, which is nice, because it gives them the chance to steel themselves before the number truly kicks off and the games begin.

Riley weaves through her classmates, wishing them all good luck as she finds her place on the stage. And just in the nick of time, as the announcers are just wrapping up their summary of their team and passing them the floor.

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

Lucas is up in the booth, headset on, fitting in surprisingly well with the rest of the professional technicians working the event. He’s on the lighting board, sound levels a reach away, and the other workers give him a wide berth to do whatever he needs to do. His glare is determined.

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - AUDITORIUM - DAY

So, without further ado… Riley takes a deep breath, centering herself. The curtain rises...

It’s now or never. The time has finally come for Adams to showcase everything they’ve got -- and they are going to damn well try.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “There She Goes! / Fame” as performed by Fame - The Musical Original Cast || Performed by Yindra Amino (feat. AAA Seniors)

We’ve heard this track before, back in Maya’s dream sequence, but it’s got a new coat of paint and we’re turning the volume up to eleven. Yindra appears at the top of the stairs to kick off the vocals, the A class still theatrically turned towards her. Her full costume is now apparent, the final piece a sheer gauzy red dress wrap, similar to what Taylor Swift wore on her reputation Tour. It’s vibrant and saucy, perfect to swish and flick as Yindra steals the show.

About thirty seconds in she begins her descent down the stairs, Dylan and Jeff jogging up the steps to meet her and guide her down. When they get close to the bottom, they lift her by the arms and do a spin, placing back down as the A class parts to let her through. She makes it through the class and playfully flirts with most of them as she goes, matching the tone of the number effortlessly. She makes it back to the steps just in time for the belt before the dance break, lifting her arms to the sky and swinging her hips.

Everything is beautiful up here in the clouds!

Then we jump into the dance, really allowing the A class to take flight. They sharply in unison, demonstrating only the first tastes of Zay’s savvy choreography. Yindra makes it back to the front to lead the pack when they get to the chorus (“Fame! I wanna live forever…”)

Then an unexpected soloist takes over when we switch into Spanish, Asher jumping to the front and channeling diva. He’s the only boy with his suit jacket unbuttoned, letting more red bleed through and also helping him stand out. The reason he can stomach taking on the challenge is clear with Dylan right behind him, acting as his dance partner and taking center stage with him when they shift to the salsa bit at 2:20. The rest of the A class has paired off too, including Haley & Clarissa, Jeff & Yindra, Isadora & Chai, and Farkle & Riley.

Asher delivers a killer vocal run, and it appears he has been doing his stretches since “If I Didn’t Have You” in 302, because this time when Dylan dips him at the transition, they nail it perfectly.

Then the dance truly takes over, the front of the stage clearing for solo dance moments to take spotlight. This starts with Haley, doing a few ballet moves, and then passes to other classmates -- Chai, Maya with a dazzling split and leg kick. But the true star of the dance break is Jeff, bringing those promised break dance moves and earning cheers from the audience. Then he and Yindra dance together for the remainder of the break, making impressive salsa partners and definitely fulfilling a daydream for her little lesbian crush on him.

As the dance break winds down, Yindra makes her way back up the steps, the boys chasing her up, so that when she starts again on the pre-chorus (“I’m on top of the charts…”), she can lean on them effortlessly. She slides across Dylan’s shoulders and then leans into a lift, Dylan, Farkle, Nigel, and Yogi holding her sideways across them and bringing her back down to the stage. On the next line (“I’m on top in their hearts…”), the boys rotate her around before depositing her front and center stage again.

As she launches into the final chorus at about 3:45, Yindra backs into dead center as her classmates weave in circles around her, the vocals and energy building in intensity. The lights glow from their rosy, warm hues and transition closer and closer to red. On the last line, Yindra gives it her all, allowing Dylan and Nigel to lift her up onto their shoulders high above the rest as she throws her arms up in a final declarative diva pose.

Remember my name!

The lights turn blood red, casting the A class in shadow. The resounding applause is well earned. Zay and Charlie are on the edge of their seats, clapping enthusiastically. Assuming correctly that that was the dance standout of the set, Charlie braves nudging Zay with his elbow, which he glances at and then smiles in return.

Backstage, though, Haverford seems less pleased. This is not at all what they saw from semis. Brandon glowers with his arms crossed, Billy shaking his head in frustration behind him.

On stage, the A class works quickly in the brief transition. Nigel strips off his suit jacket and hands it to Yindra, who has just stripped off her sheer dress and is now down to her ruby leotard that otherwise matches her peers. She slips on the jacket while the other A class girls take theirs off and flip them inside out, now also black like the boys. Nate darts on stage to grab the discarded dress and then all the boys disperse, leaving just the A class girls on stage in a line with their heads downcast. The anticipation builds…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “The Man” as performed by Taylor Swift || Performed by AAA Senior Ladies

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

Maya brings the setlist back to life, tilting her chin up and launching into the first verse. She moves sharply but fluidly, reanimating each of her fellow girls as she struts and spins past them along the front of the stage. When she reaches the end and spots Brandon scowling in the wings, she gives him a cocky little head tilt, flipping her hair as she spins back around.

Every conquest I made would make me more of a boss to you

Riley takes over from there as the “fearless leader,” and from there it’s a strong, upbeat showing from the senior A class women. Each one has a solo, as indicated by the lyric sheet, and the choreography is simple but effective. Their reversible blazers show off Jade’s creative costuming as well as echo the presence of the boys in the previous number, driving home the theme.

Brandon isn’t the only one who can strategize a setlist. With this female-dominated interlude, Adams not only showcases one of the biggest assets they have against Haverford -- women -- they essentially get a fun musical fuck-you towards them out of it too.

All the girls come together for the end of the number, creating a sisterhood-type formation with their arms around each other and at varying levels -- crouching, standing straight, etc. -- while Maya stands front center. She delivers the airy final lyrics, a teasing smile on her lips as she smirks at the audience.

If I was a man… then I’d be the man…

The lights dim again, darkening the stage for transition into the final number in AAA’s setlist. Eric glances to his program, eyes widening in surprise. He elbows Harper and leans over to talk to both her and Jack.

Eric: They did everything for this by themselves?

Harper nods proudly. That’s right! And as for why Eric is so surprised, we’re about to find out. This is the time to make a lasting impression… as the lights rise on Adams’ final number…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Bellas Finals Mash Up” as performed by Pitch Perfect Original Cast || Performed by AAA Seniors

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

Okay, quick disclaimer. The mash-up performed here is not the same arrangement as the Barden Bellas. But we aren’t mash-up creators, nor would we ever pretend to be (I only write fake lyrics on TV), and this performance has the perfect ebb and flow of how we envision the A class’s final track unfolds. So while we’re providing a lyric sheet and encouraging you to listen to the song to get immersed in what the performance would feel like, keep in mind that it wouldn’t be the exact same songs and arrangement.

But it is impressive, because for the A class mash-up, they put it together all on their own. Farkle, Nate, and Clarissa wrote and arranged the conglomeration of songs, and they made it a capella for easier preparation. So it’s nothing but high energy and the A class harmonizing powerfully throughout -- putting a dent in Haverford’s usual boast of having mastery of harmonies unlike anyone else.

The A class starts demurely on stage, back in group formation, Nigel at the front to kick us off. His smooth, unassuming tenor is perfect for the gentle opening, easing the crowd back into the music before the performance erupts in a burst of sound, movement, and energy. All of them strip off their suit jackets and toss them aside, Yogi energetically taking over the next part of the mash-up with more of a rap-like, fast-paced cadence. With the suit jackets gone, Jade’s designs finally shine at full power -- intricate and mesmerizing design on both the leotards and dress shirts, each one the slightest bit unique yet a united aesthetic, creating a shimmering, captivating visual like firelight as they move and dance. Behind them, Nate and Dave inconspicuously but groovily swoop and grab all of the discarded jackets that didn’t make it backstage, both not meant to be noticed and yet seamlessly a part of the performance.

As the mash-up transitions into a more thoughtful ballad type -- though that infectious engine is still running underneath it all -- Riley takes the reins, bringing her usual level of enchantment as she moves along to the beat and weaves around her classmates, dancing with each of them.

When she makes it back to the front for the pseudo-bridge (“As you walk on by… will you call my name…”) and the A class moves into a new triangle formation behind her, she raises her gaze upward and towards the booth. Even though she can’t see him through the lights…

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

The intent behind the moment is clear. She’s looking to Lucas, a secret message shared between the two of them. A small smile blooms on his face, and he reaches for a slider…

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - AUDITORIUM - DAY

And the spotlight on Riley brightens, just enough that she’d notice. Her smile widens, already dazzling in show business mode, and she launches into the choreography at the tail-end of her segment around about 1:40 with deeper enthusiasm than ever. Her classmates back her up, all of them moving in unison until they swap numbers again, Isadora taking over.

Then Chai jumps in, having a trio moment at the front with Darby and Sarah as they slide through their section of the mash-up. Then Jeff pipes up, doing an AMBITION first as he raps on the next bit with Yogi backing him up. Farkle theatrically pushes between both of them to take his solo (the Rebel Wilson one, though he sings it a lot less… oddly than she does), seemingly back in shape diva wise at least for this one slice of performance. He and Isadora pass the vocal runs back and forth, spinning around each other and half-dancing together, backing away from each other as the build to the final act comes to fruition.

Then Maya’s vocals pull out all the stops, up on the steps while Riley heads the front of the formation below. Dylan and Asher are right behind her as right and left hand -- until Dylan breaks rank to really bring the house down, running into a front flip across the stage. He pops upright, winks at the audience, then cartwheels and back handsprings the other way, before returning to his place for the last hurrah.

The audience is fully enthralled, on their feet and clapping along. Eric, Jack, and Harper can’t hold back their grins, pride shining in their eyes. Even Shawn seems genuinely impressed -- Angela wipes tears from her eyes. In the back, Charlie and Zay are basically dancing along as much as they can, cheering and clapping and both looking happier than they have in weeks.

And with that, there’s nothing to do but bring it on home. The A class delivers the final segment with everything they’ve got -- well-trained harmonies, dynamite energy, and their signature charm of lovable underdogs with nothing to lose.

With the last couple of lines they break formation and return back to the places they started at the very beginning of the setlist, stomping in unison and hitting their final marks. Then they spin and drop their heads down as the stage lights go out, back where they started. As if they could wind up and do it all over again, just as spectacularly, in a New York minute. Like it’s easy.

But it’s not. We know how hard it is -- we know how hard they worked. And they did it. Somehow, regardless of what happens next, they did it.

The curtain lowers, nearly the whole house on their feet to give them thunderous applause.

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - DRESSING ROOM - DAY

The A class is celebrating and destressing in the dressing room, all buzzing with post-performance hype and the rush of a great show. Farkle and Maya stand together and hug each other tight, the latter clinging to him like an emotional support beanpole.

Farkle: Doesn’t matter now, does it? All that matters is we did a good job and had fun, right? Or whatever people say.

Maya: Screw that. If we don’t win, I’m burning this motherfucker down.

Zay and Charlie poke their heads in, earning uproarious reactions from all of them. Haley and Clarissa immediately rush to tackle Charlie with hugs, while Zay is swarmed with cheers and praise for his choreography. It all turned out fantastic!

Yindra: Not that there was ever any doubt.

Charlie finds a moment to get a word in, stating that he needs to go congratulate Haverford and check in with them, but he wanted to be able to tell them all the same. They were spectacular, and it was so awesome to get to see it. They all thank him, and there's this clear sense in the air that he should’ve been there with him. He belonged up there with them.

But alas. Charlie makes his exit just as the techies return, and he gives them compliments as well as they pass. Jade is also quickly laden with praise -- her costumes were perfect and definitely stole the show. Nate and Dave ambush Dylan, Asher, and Jeff, pulling them into a giant glom hug and losing their shit about how epic they were. Like, Jeff! Your dancing! And Asher, your Spanish!

Nate: I didn’t even realize you were part Latino.

Asher: … wait, seriously?

Dave: [ shaking Dylan’s shoulders happily ] And when you did the flip! And the backward flip!

Isadora watches them fondly, shaking her head, only looking away when she’s tapped on the shoulder. Chai is there, offering her a timid congratulations. They did it! And she did an amazing job with her solos.

Well, with all the extra hours she put in for her dancing… in a sudden move, Isadora reaches out and pulls Chai into a hug. Brief, but more than she allows or gives most people. It’s interesting, actually, how Chai manages to get her to do most things without thinking. Like a brashness she just brings out in her, or something.

But Chai doesn’t seem at all opposed. She’s surprised only for a moment, then she lightly returns the embrace, trying not to push it too far. When they pull away, Isadora’s touch lingers a bit longer than usual, like she isn’t sure what to do with her hands all the sudden.

Isadora: I couldn’t have joined and caught up without you, so. If I contribute at all to a victory, then it’s your contribution too.

Chai: In that case, I think we can call it a draw. [ off her confused look ] Without your friendship I wouldn’t have adjusted to coming back very well, or probably even thought to consider telling the A class about… you know, before it was almost forced out of me. And who knows where I’d be if all that were the case… anyway, I’m grateful. Funny how the most unexpected people change your life, huh?

Isadora: Yeah… it actually is.

Chai smiles, Isadora tentatively mirroring it.

Speaking of people who unexpectedly change everything… Lucas makes his way over to Riley, the latter brightening instantly when she sees him. She gives him a tight hug, and he lifts her off her feet momentarily before they break apart.

Riley: We pulled it off.

Lucas: If we manage to cinch this, you realize it’s all because of you, right? That entire thing, that was all you.

Riley, touched: … it was a team effort. But I suppose it won’t really mean much until we know.

Which could be any minute now… Riley touches his arm, getting his attention again.

Riley: I just want you to know I’m proud of you. No matter what happens with showdown.

Lucas: Again, it didn’t have much to do with me --

Riley: I’m not just talking about today. I’m talking about how you ran for president in spite of the odds, your initiative to make real change, how dedicated you are to putting them in motion. At Adams, but on your own. I know how far-off college and stuff felt to you during the summer, and now you’ve got submitted applications and new goals and a whole new future ahead of you. Not even new, but -- you’re finally seeing it, that potential that has always been there. I know that’s not nothing. I know how hard that was. But you did it. And even though it’s all stuff I knew you were capable of, every day you continue to blow me away. [ a beat ] It’s so good to see you starting to believe it too.

Wow. A lot to process, a lot of warm sentiment he wants to really take in and commit to memory forever. It’s difficult enough to process it, there’s no words in the world for him to respond with, so he settles for a smile and taking her hand instead. Lacing their fingers together, bonding them regardless of what might happen next.

Them against the world. Riley beams, squeezing his hand in return.

Perfect timing, too, because the time has come. A stagehand pops in and informs them it’s time for the announcement of the winners, beckoning them all onto stage. Yindra insists to Zay that he come with them for this -- he deserves to be up there just as much as they do.

Silence hangs over us as they head out…

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - BACKSTAGE HALL - DAY

The intrusive quiet follows as the A class makes their way through the backstage area, arriving back at the wings. All the anticipation of this final result building on our shoulders…

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The announcers are teeing up the big final reveal as the A class files out, Haverford populating the other side, but it’s all muffled and quiet around us. Brandon and Maya exchange a sharp glare. Yindra and Nigel each keep one of Zay’s arms around their shoulders, holding him steady as they take the stage. Lucas, Dave, Nate, and Jade hang back in the wings, Dave wrapping Jade in a hug from behind and propping his chin on her head.

Evelyn has joined us for the final reveal, the guest announcer who gets the distinct privilege as head of the school board to announce the victor. And what an honor it is! She gives a little speech about how it’s so clear both groups worked hard, put in the time and the effort, and have more than enough talent to spare. But alas, only one can win.

Evelyn: So let’s get to what you’re all waiting for -- the results. Without further ado, the winner of the 2020 Senior Showdown: Manhattan is…

It’s the most excruciating wait in the world. Zay clasps Riley’s shoulder from behind, squeezing tight. Haley links her arm tight with Clarissa’s and closes her eyes; Asher hides behind Dylan and tucks his head against his back, their hands clasped together. Maya reaches to take Farkle and Isadora’s hands, flanked on either side of her.

In the audience, Harper grips both Jack and Eric’s arms, all of them on the edge of their seats. Charlie is alone in the back but rapt with attention, hands clasped together in front of his mouth. He’s holding his breath, a prayer shining in his eyes -- but who he’s directing those wishes towards, it’s impossible to say…

And then in a moment, it’s done.

Evelyn: Congratulations to the talented seniors of Adams Academy for the Arts!

The chaos is instantaneous. The audience erupts into cheer as the A class breaks free from their paralysis, bursting into joyful hysteria. The Adams faculty leap out of their seats with equal elation, relieved and overwhelmed with pride. Now Angela isn’t the only one crying -- Eric and Harper have joined her with their own tears. Charlie applauds wildly, shouting out a cheer.

But nothing can compare to the mood within the class. It’s impossible to describe. Dylan picks up Asher and spins him around. Riley whips around and rams into Zay to hug him, shaking with excitement. Nigel runs off stage and pulls Jade out to join them, grasping her hand the entire time, and Dave and Nate eagerly follow. Darby, Chai, and Sarah jump in a hug together, and Yogi does a victory yodel.

Farkle pulls Isadora and Maya to him in a bone-crushing hug, before releasing the latter to go accept the trophy for Adams from the announcers. She faux graciously accepts the trophy and then turns to have a good, old-fashioned “good game” handshake with Brandon. They appear pleasant enough to the audience, but their grip on each other is vice tight.

Then the humility is over, the Haverford boys retreat, and Maya holds up the trophy for them all to see. VICTORY, BITCHES! They all swarm to center stage to meet her and it, dizzy with their change in fortune.

Except Riley. She heads in the opposite direction, marching into the wings straight for Lucas. She doesn’t hesitate the moment she reaches him, pulling him into a deep, enthusiastic kiss. Lucas returns it, too lost in the euphoria for a moment to be self-conscious, gripping her waist to keep her steady and pull her closer.

An undeniably beautiful moment -- save for the way Missy eyes it disdainfully from amidst the celebrating circle of her peers.

But even her potential jealousy can’t spoil the mood. They did it -- Adams Academy are the champions of senior showdown.

EXT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - NIGHT

Night has descended upon them over the course of the event, the driveway and streets around the venue bright with headlights as ride shares and drivers make their way home.

Charlie is standing in the cold evening air, hands stuffed in his pockets and breath creating steam in front of him. He perks up when he spots who he’s waiting for, Brandon emerging from the building and descending the steps. His expression is grim in the wake of Haverford’s loss, and it doesn’t bounce back to its usual crisp confidence quite so effortlessly when he finds Charlie at the bottom of the steps.

Brandon: Charles. Don’t see any reason for you to be hanging around this late -- considering you weren’t a participant.

Charlie: Yeah, I know. I just wanted… I was hoping to catch you before you left. You weren’t in the room when I caught up with the boys before the results, so…

So. Brandon grants him a moment, standing opposite him and raising his eyebrows. Go on. Charlie clears his throat.

Charlie: I wanted to say how great I thought you guys were. You killed the set. And “Sherry” was a great choice. I’m sorry I doubted it.

Brandon: Not good enough, apparently. But thank you.

Charlie: … it’s okay that you didn’t win. I hope you know that. Six years is a heavy burden to carry on your shoulders. At least now you’re free of it, right?

Brandon: I suppose that’s one way to look at ending a proud tradition every senior class before you has pulled off seamlessly. Though I can’t deny the A class gave an impressive showing. [ a beat ] Interesting, how they completely reset their entire performance. It was nothing like what I’d heard about it.

Oop. For just an instant, Charlie panics, but he recovers quickly.

Charlie: Yeah, well, Riley told me they just felt like they needed to switch things up. Get a fresh start, you know? Kind of like your thinking with “Sherry.” Safe doesn’t win showdown, right?

Brandon: [ not buying it ] Sure.

Either way, Charlie thinks they did well, and they have nothing to be ashamed of for not winning. He’ll do his best to try and bolster spirits on Monday. A charming offer, one which Brandon merely nods to acknowledge. For now, at least in the immediate aftermath of stinging failure, the new kid warmth he displayed towards Charlie is long gone.

Still, he can’t relinquish having the last word. After Charlie bids him goodnight and starts down the sidewalk, Brandon suddenly calls after him.

Brandon: Charles.

Charlie stops, turning to look at him again. Not sure what to expect -- a reprimand? The fabled dark side everyone keeps alluding to? Maybe a thank you for his kind words?

Brandon offers none of the above. He maintains his chilly demeanor but infuses it with his usual suave delivery, giving him another nod.

Brandon: Enjoy the rest of your weekend.

To Charlie, this simply seems nice. A good sign if nothing else. He smiles, then continues on his journey home. But when Brandon spins back to face the street, his expression is far from pleasant.

Perhaps he’s granting Charlie one last courtesy. He should enjoy this weekend as much as he can -- afterwards, perhaps enjoyment may not be so easy to find.

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY

Sunday morning, bright and early, the school is more populated than usual. A small group is present to watch HARLEY KEINER unlock the trophy case and load their new one into it, placing it front and center with the utmost care. Jack is there to supervise, while Lucas, Dylan, and Asher came to witness the moment for themselves.

Dylan: Thanks for your service, sir.

Harley: Oh, no no, thank you. It’s been too many years since I got to update the display with this bad boy -- props to you folks for bringing him home.

And what a happy homecoming it is! Lucas steps forward to look for himself, the gleaming proof of his victory staring back at them. Representative of all the money about to come their way, to fund his initiative at least for a time.

He can’t help but grin, spinning back around to face the others. He loftily holds his arms out, sauntering forward and giving a cheeky bow. Then another, really milking the moment. Dylan and Asher break into theatrical applause, allowing him the silliness.

Lucas: Thank you, thank you very much.

They meet him in the middle and both throw their arms around his shoulders, and Lucas doesn’t shy away from the contact. Dylan starts playfully singing the chorus “We Are the Champions,” Asher quickly harmonizing, and even Lucas joins in as they amble towards the doors.

Lucas/Dylan/Asher: No time for losers, cause we are the champions!

Dylan: OF THE WOOOOOOORLD --

Jack watches them go, amused at their antics. Soaking in the moment of pride, of peace, in the school that despite its hell, he loves more than anything. He crosses his arms and meanders his way back to his office, humming the Queen song to himself as if it’s contagious.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - DAY

Despite it not being anywhere near the way he imagined it, Zay finally submits his application to Turner. And this time in facing it he’s not alone, Yindra and Nigel both plopped on the bed next to him and encouraging him to do it right up until the moment it’s official.

He thanks them for everything, acknowledging Nigel’s argument that he’s glad he didn’t miss showdown. Nigel agrees it’s definitely going to be something they remember for a long time, especially now with the sweet addition of victory.

Yindra: Um, yeah, and how am I ever gonna forget your big speech to Jade? Like hello?

Zay: It was pretty ballsy. We might have to tell him about the contingency plan.

Yindra: Ooh… are we sure? Do we think he’s ready?

Nigel: What plan?

Yindra: We need a Michelle, Zay. Do we think he has what it takes to be a Michelle?

Nigel: To be a whomst?

Yindra and Zay exchange a conspiratorial look. Yindra claims this is their big plan for success, if their own solo endeavors don’t pan out.

Zay: So. Destiny’s Child --

INT. THERAPIST’S OFFICE - NIGHT

Farkle is meeting with DR. MICHELLE HAN again after a week or so of avoiding her, in his usual spot on the couch. But this time he’s sitting upright, and he’s got company -- both STUART MINKUS and JENNIFER MINKUS are with him. Nervous but resolute, Farkle claims that he’s ready to discuss the bipolar diagnosis further, especially in figuring out where they go from here and what he can do to live with it.

Dr. Han is pleased, happy to oblige. She tells him she’s glad he came around to it on his own terms, then begins to discuss the nuances of the condition. Jennifer glances to Farkle next to her, placing her hand on his forearm and giving it a supportive squeeze.

INT. YINDRA’S CHURCH - NIGHT

Charlie enters a large church we recognize as Yindra’s, only much more empty on a weekday evening than Sunday morning. The lights are all on, and there are various people dotted around. The PASTOR, an elderly black man with a wise aura and mischievous gleam in his eyes, is talking pleasantly with two elderly ladies to the side.

They eye Charlie as he walks past them towards the rows of seats. He has a lightness about him that wasn’t there the last time we saw him in his own church, but there are still remnants of his usual anxious state.

He walks up to the stage that Yindra and the gospel choir performed on and stops in the forestage. There are three banners decorating the wall in front of him, in white, purple and blue, featuring the cross, ichthys, and a flame. A very different vibe from his usual Catholic church, but comforting all the same.

Once he’s free of the church ladies, the pastor approaches Charlie.

Pastor: Hello, young man. What brings you here at this time of night? 

Charlie: Hi. Sorry if I’m intruding at all. [ off his nod of reassurance ] I came here the other week with my friend Yindra -- Yindra Amino, in the choir?

Pastor: Ah, yes. I know the Aminos quite well. Yindra is a lovely girl.

Charlie: I’m Catholic, but it just seemed so happy and… cool here, so I… well, I have something I need to say to God, and I ended up here. I hope that’s okay. 

Pastor: Of course. We welcome everybody, always. [ with a warm smile ] I’ll leave you and the big guy to it.

He gives him a fatherly pat on the shoulder, then leaves him be. Charlie takes a moment to collect his thoughts, looking up at the banners, and then kneels down. He takes his silver cross necklace out from under his clothes and holds onto the cross with one hand. 

Charlie: God… [ with a sigh ] It’s been a long semester. And a long summer. Kind of a long life, to be honest. And lately I’ve been having to do a lot of self-reflection. I keep finding myself in these moments where I have to… make a tough call. Or get to the right decision. Do the right thing. And every time I think to myself maybe you’d just give me the answer, that these choices could be simple, but I get that they aren’t. They aren’t supposed to be. It shouldn’t be that easy to define who you are — you need a test, sometimes, to prove it. And while I feel like I’ve had my fair share of that, I get why you couldn’t just show me the way. I had to find it for myself. I have to get there on my own. I can’t expect you to give me guidance if I’m not ready for it. But I’m getting there, now, and… and part of that is...

Tell us who you are.

He takes a deep breath, and exhales.

Charlie: I’m gay. [ with a nervous chuckle ] But you already knew that, didn’t you? You’ve always known exactly who I am. It’s me who’s been playing catch up.

Charlie pauses, fiddling with the chain of his necklace. He’s not sure what he’s waiting for -- the lightning strike, maybe -- but nothing comes. Of course it doesn’t. He releases another breath, easier now, and continues.

Charlie: I’m starting to understand who I am. And who you are, too. I’m beginning to trust my own decisions, and put who and what I value most above my own comfort or ease. There’s still a lot to figure out, I know, and I’m a long way from the person I’m meant to be… but I feel like I’m on the right path. [ with more soft confidence ] I pray that you’ll be with me on that journey, and that you’ll continue to guide me. I’m sorry for blocking this part of me from you for so long. I’m going to try and be my authentic self as much as I can from now on — I’m starting to realize it’s not worth being anything else. [ quietly ] Amen.

He stands up and takes a moment, then heads back towards the church’s entrance. He can’t help the corners of his mouth turning up; a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, but he’s trying not to disturb the peaceful atmosphere of the building.

The pastor catches him before he leaves, asking if he managed to tell God what he needed to. 

Charlie: I did, thank you. 

Pastor, tactfully: Forgive me if it’s not my place to ask, but... is your church accepting of the LGBTQ+ community?

Charlie’s eyes go wide. 

Charlie: How did you…? 

Pastor: Call it a natural instinct… my husband tells me it’s called ‘gaydar?’

Charlie processes this new information. Both of them almost want to laugh -- it’s just a little bit funny, a unique kind of levity, spotting another religious gay in the wild -- then he shakes his head to his question. 

Charlie: I grew up in a pretty strict household and church. 

Pastor: Hm, I see. I’m aware of several Christian LGBTQ+ communities and churches in the city, if you’d be interested? 

Charlie: I don’t know if… actually, yeah. That’d be really nice, thank you. 

Pastor: I’ll put together a little list for you and tell Yindra to Snapchat it over to you. [ off his dubious expression ] Or whatever you kids are using now. Don’t look at me like that, I’m old.

Charlie thanks him with a laugh, at ease and genuinely happy. The pastor bids him farewell as he heads to the double doors with stained glass windows, through which the lights outside shine through, creating a pastel prism of color on the hardwood floor.

EXT. YINDRA’S CHURCH - NIGHT

Charlie steps back out into the night, closing his eyes and inhaling the frigid air. A light rain has started to fall, the whole world seeming to shine around him. It’s refreshing, invigorating -- or maybe that’s just the freedom of what he just did. It might all be in his head, it might not, but what it means to him is the realest thing there is.

He releases the breath he’s been holding for years, a light smile blooming on his face.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Party For One” as performed by Carly Rae Jepsen || Performed by Charlie Gardner

There was no way we were going to get through the entire midseason finale without Charlie performing. It wouldn’t be right. And he’s truly earned it this time, the uplifting percussion that kicks off the number almost heaven-sent.

He starts the vocals softly, breathing them out like his monumental exhale. Then he gets moving, hands still in his pockets, walking backwards along the sidewalk in step with the beat. His excitement builds through the verse and pre-chorus until he just can’t hold it in anymore. When the beat drops and the first chorus really hits, he breaks free, pulling his hands from his pockets and spinning into a dance.

He dances solo, unrestrained, continuing his journey as he goes. It’s energetic contemporary, skillful as always, and laced with that same frenetic melodrama that has defined his previous performances in his imagination. Only this time it’s joy -- pure, uninhibited joy -- that pumps that passion through his movements.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - NIGHT

Charlie carries on through the streets, loosening up as he goes. He unbuttons his coat, holds his arms out to soak in the rain. He runs his hands through his hair to brush the wetness from it, mussing it up in the process from the neatly combed way he’s been wearing it for weeks. Around him the city is a kaleidoscope, shimmering jewels in the night of reds, blues, purples, and gold.

EXT. CENTRAL PARK - NIGHT

By the second verse, he’s made it to Central Park, launching back into his fun and free choreography. He dances along benches, swings on lampposts like Singin’ in the Rain, and gets mud on his pants from slipping and sliding in the grass.

A little messy, but he doesn’t care. Why should he care when he’s free?

EXT. AAA - NIGHT

By the time he reaches the final minute, he’s arrived at the steps of Adams, closed and empty for the night but still brightly lit and welcoming. Inviting, like the feeling of standing on your doorstep after a long journey home.

And this is where Charlie truly lets loose, the gleaming structure of AAA acting as the backdrop to his final expression of liberation. The dancing is really impressive now, spins and kicks and a couple of splits sprinkled in, but what’s most compelling about it is how much feeling it conveys. It’s hard to recognize you haven’t seen someone be authentic until you actually do, and that’s how this performance feels. His coat abandoned on the steps, his hair wild and free, skin glowing with rainwater and finally back on his beat.

This is Charlie’s showcase moment. And finally, the only audience that matters is himself.

I’ll just dance for myself, back on my beat!

When he wraps the rendition he lowers himself down into a slippery recline on the steps, breathing heavy but so worth it. He leans back on his palms, tilting his head up to the rain, to the stars, to whatever lies beyond waiting for him. Then he smiles, easy and effortless, laughing a bit to himself as the weather soaks him clean.

INT. HART APARTMENT - NIGHT

Katy, Maya, and Isadora are sharing the remnants of a pizza at their new kitchen counter, taking a dinner break from unpacking and starting to arrange the space. Katy reminds her that she absolutely does not need to hang around and help, but Isadora claims she doesn’t mind. She likes it, actually, and it’s exciting to see what they do with the place. But she actually should get going tonight -- school day tomorrow, and Eric will be wondering where she is.

As she gathers her things to head out, Katy suggests they grab breakfast at the diner tomorrow morning before school to celebrate. Her treat, for old times sake. As flattered as Isadora is by that offer, she can’t. She has a meeting she can’t miss first thing in the morning, but rain check. She doesn’t want to pass that up.

Katy and Maya bid her farewell, then descend into excited giggles as they launch onto their couch. Katy comments on how wonderful the view is too from this new apartment -- miles above their old one, anyway. Maybe everything happens for a reason… but God, is it good to be back with her girl. Especially one who is now a champion.

Maya grins, hugging her again and cuddling close. She tells her she’s so glad she’s home, more than she could ever express.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT

Riley is on her bed, the room starting to look a bit different as Maya’s stuff disappears. She’s got her laptop open, application for Tisch NYU the last one she has left to submit. Only hours left to decide if she’s going to go for it or not, if pursuing the arts for real is something she even wants to try.

CORY MATTHEWS knocks on the door, making a witty comment about how now that Maya is gone, maybe it’s time to switch rooms back… Riley claims they may as well just wait until she goes to college, right? Not worth all that effort to do it now when she’ll just move again in six months… Cory gives her a look, but he can’t help but smile at the same time. Clever girl…

He makes a point of congratulating her again, making sure she knows how proud he is of her.

Cory: Every day, I’m impressed with what a strong, mature, and clear leader you’ve become. I can’t wait to see all the amazing things you’re going to do next.

Riley smiles, touched. She climbs off her bed and swiftly rushes across the room to give him a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, thanking him, then darts back to her space before he can respond. He gives her another playful head shake, wishing her goodnight.

Once alone, it’s just her and the application. She hesitates for a moment longer, thinking on it… what does she have to lose?

Decisively, she hits submit. Putting the potential out there for good. No turning back now.

Riley, pre-lap: I did it. I smashed that submit button. It’s out there now.

INT. CHUBBIES - NIGHT

Riley and Zay are meeting at Chubbies for late weekend celebratory fries, even more necessary now with her brand new update. Zay congratulates her and expresses confidence that she’s got as good a chance of getting into Tisch as any of them -- and yes, that includes Maya. He raises his water glass to cheers their future endeavors, Riley matching it enthusiastically.

The mood is somewhat disrupted when Charlie walks through the door, spotting them in their usual booth. This time, though, the sight doesn’t immediately make him think of retreat -- in fact, it seems like exactly what he was hoping for.

He quickly approaches their table, greeting both of them. Riley is surprised by his presence but not at all opposed… although his appearance is a bit questionable. Has he just been standing around in the rain? His hair is a windswept, slick mess, but there’s no mud on his clothes, so at least that part of his freedom dance wasn’t quite so literal.

Riley: Do you want to sit down? I know you like fries, so --

Charlie: [ still a bit out of breath ] Actually, I was hoping to catch a second with Zay. [ glancing at him ] If that’s okay?

Unexpected, certainly. Riley looks to Zay as well, gauging his reaction, trying to determine if she should stay or go. Zay eyes Charlie curiously, uncertain though far less apprehensive than in the recent past… then nods. He signals to Riley it’s okay, and she gets up to give them privacy without complaint. Charlie thanks her, touching her arm and congratulating her once again, before sliding into her vacated spot across from Zay.

For a moment, it’s hard to speak. No matter how much either of them want to, how often they think about it when they’re not around, the moment they’re in front of each other again it’s like everything stops. Like they’re frozen in time, still cold in the aftermath of a mistaken first time. A choked surrender in the costume loft. A blindsiding separation without a proper goodbye.

But time keeps going. They get older, they learn, they grow -- and there’s no doubt that both of them have done a painful amount of growing in the last few months. The only question now is if they can catch up to each other and find common ground; if they can find a new way forward as they are now, or if they even should.

And to do that, they have to speak. Zay clears his throat, eyeing his rain-soaked attire.

Zay: So, did you forget your umbrella, or were you just wandering around in the rain again --

Charlie: I don’t want to do this anymore.

Oh. Well, that can sure mean a lot of things, Charlie. Zay goes silent, watching him warily to see where this is going to go. He’s not even sure himself, really, what he wants to hear. Thankfully, Charlie didn’t seem intent on stopping it there, letting out a sigh and composing his thoughts before elaborating.

Charlie: I just mean… being a million miles apart. Existing like we’re in different worlds. Maybe when all this started we -- I -- needed that. To feel like I was doing what I set out to do, to become independent and figure all my stuff out on my own without bringing you down with me. Because that’s why I did it. I know you already know that, but it took me some time to stop convincing myself otherwise. [ a beat, looking down at his hands ] At first, I really thought I was doing the right thing. The thing that was best for everyone, that would allow me to fix everything. But I wasn’t really fixing anything. I think I was just doing what I always do. Running.

Zay listens patiently, not betraying anything. Letting Charlie have the time to work through it, to say what he needs to say. Charlie meets his eyes.

Charlie: And I know I screwed everything up, making those choices without you. [ shaky ] I know I hurt you, and… [ fiercely ] and I hate that I did. I hope you’ll believe that the last thing I ever, ever wanted to do was hurt you.

Zay’s calm demeanor cracks slightly, betraying that exact hurt flaring up again. But it doesn’t hurt the same way anymore. It’s healed over, a dull ache that with the right treatment and a little more time will recover.

Charlie dips his head down, doing his best to keep it together and not do something unhelpful like cry. He clears his throat, taking another deep breath and finding his resolve. He meets his eyes again, not letting himself run anymore.

Charlie: But I did. I did, and I’m sorry. Sincerely, from the bottom of my heart. I made some serious mistakes, and I know I’m going to have to live with them forever. You and I... we’re always going to carry that with us. We’re always going to have this history, the good and the bad. It’s never going to just go back to how it was before.

True enough. Zay nods, acknowledging it. Then, would they really want it to? Would they want to trade it all away for a fresh start, if it meant taking the good moments too?

Charlie: Even still… I wouldn’t change it. Because I can’t imagine what life would be like -- what I would be like -- if none of it ever happened. And no matter what’s changed since, the mistakes I’ve made… a million years ago, before all this started, I told you that I couldn’t lose you. That you were too important to lose. Now I know I was right. [ with a weak smile ] I don’t want to keep doing this, stumbling through life without you.

It’s getting harder and harder to remain neutral. Zay sniffs, swiping at his lips and trying to maintain his composure. Charlie isn’t looking away now, taking him in as much as he can while he makes his appeal.

Charlie: And maybe it’s selfish, which is exactly what caused all this in this first place, but I don’t care. If there’s one thing I’ll allow myself a little selfishness for, it’s this. That’s my new choice. You were one of my best friends, and you’re one of my favorite people. [ a beat ] And I totally get if this isn’t enough, or if it’s too much, and you’d just rather not. But is there any chance we can just… try? Try to find our rhythm again, be friends again? [ delicate ] Because I know the world needs you, but I really miss Zay Babineaux.

If Charlie uncharacteristically had a lot to say, then it only makes sense for Zay to have nothing. He’s speechless, absorbing everything Charlie said and trying to keep his emotions in check while grappling with that same question he’s been struggling with for weeks. If things aren’t completely broken, if they can be even remotely repaired, then is it worth the risk of letting him back in so they can fix it? Is that something he wants? Does it even feel possible, considering all their history and how frozen they’ve felt before?

But all of that was daunting when Charlie remained a question mark, when his feelings and opinions were kept behind that protective shell he works hard to maintain. Now, now that he’s said it and put himself out there, there’s no more guessing what Charlie wants. And when he knows where Charlie stands on it, on them, his decision is suddenly easy.

Zay: I could be down for trying. [ unable to hold back a small smile ] I’d really like that. Believe it or not, I missed Charlie Gardner.

The relieved smile that consumes Charlie’s features is instant, a laugh escaping him. Not because anything is funny, but because he can finally breathe again. The world has thawed around them, allowing time to resume and for both of them to move forward.

And what that means for them, well, only time will tell.

Riley slowly creeps her way back towards the booth, apologizing for interrupting but claiming she’s starving and absolutely needs to eat a fry or she’ll collapse. Charlie and Zay crack up, gesturing for her to rejoin them officially. She beams, feeding off their infectious energy that only freedom can conjure, and slides back into the booth next to Zay.

Charlie brings up an epic moment from their showdown performance and they quickly launch into excited chatter, the rapport between the three of them finally at ease. The way it was always meant to be -- hopefully, the way it will be forever more.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Isadora arrives at school bright and early, having come in with Eric rather than her classmates for a change. She knocks on Jack’s office door and enters as soon as she hears the beginnings of a response. Patience may not be her strong suit.

Jack is already busy with work, but sets his focus entirely on Isadora when she sits down across from him. Her face is set, that classic De La Cruz fierceness and determination clear. 

Jack: Eric mentioned you wanted to see me. How can I help you, Miss De La Cruz? 

Isadora: I’m here to discuss the possibility of setting up a scholarship fund in my mother’s name.

Jack’s eyebrows raise in surprise. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t that. Before he can respond to the proposition, Isadora continues.

Isadora: As you’re aware, I have inherited a large sum of money from my mother upon her passing. 

Jack, gently: Isadora, you don’t need to be so formal with me. This isn’t a business meeting.

Isadora sighs in relief, allowing her posture to relax. 

Isadora: I’ve been struggling with what to do with my mom’s money for a while now, and I realized when I was helping Katy and Maya move into their new apartment that I should use it in a way that Valerie would support. [ waiting for Jack to nod in acknowledgement before continuing ] My mom loved this school, how it fosters the next round of talent. She often dropped hints to me that she’d like to be a guest teacher more regularly -- 

Jack: [ caught off guard ] Did she? She never mentioned anything to me or Eric… 

Isadora, fondly: It was part of her plan for moving to New York. But my point is, a scholarship fund is exactly what Valerie would want her money to go towards. Helping bring up the round of superstars, particularly ones like Maya who can’t necessarily access it on their own. That’s how she started out too, you know, not coming from much. She made her own luck, but I don’t think she’d even blink if she had the chance to help someone else achieve those same dreams without half the struggle. It feels right. Plus, it’ll help keep Lucas and Maya’s new legislation intact without having to rely on winning showdown every single year. Haverford are… tough competition.

That’s one way to describe them. Jack nods as he thinks it over, keen on the idea. He can’t see any reason why it can’t happen. 

Jack: Sounds like an excellent idea to me. I’m sure Lucas and Maya will be pleased too. [ a beat ] Well done for coming to such a wise decision on your own. Valerie would be proud of you, I’m sure. And so am I.

Isadora is touched by the sentiments, and gets up from her chair to hurry around to his side of the desk. She gives him a quick hug, taking him by surprise. 

Isadora: Thank you. For always being there for me. You and Eric mean a lot to me. [ a beat ] Well, um… bye. I guess.

She offers him an awkward wave as she walks back around his desk and towards the door. Jack is still frozen in surprise from Isadora’s hug and gratitude, knowing full well how much that means. He smiles at her, happy that she seems to trust him.

Jack’s uplifted mood doesn’t last long though. Yancy appears in the doorway just as Isadora is leaving, the two of them nearly bumping into each other. He shoots a subtle glare at her, but she doesn’t back down easily, so she glares right back at him until she passes.

Yancy: Quite the attitude on that one. Seems that might be a trend here at Adams.

Jack: Looks can be deceiving. Isadora just helped arrange for a fund to support the new scholarships in full, for many, many years. [ pointedly ] If humanity has any hope, I believe it’s in the youth. They certainly demonstrate much greater compassion than I’ve observed lately.

Yancy: Oh, then I suppose we both have good news, then.

Yancy clasps his hands together, looking all too pleased to be delivering this news. Jack braces himself for the worst.

Yancy: I submitted my report last week, and the board has reached their verdict. Effective January 1st, the role of principal will officially be open to apply for at Adams Academy for the Arts. I myself am planning to submit for consideration -- I think I could do more here than the school board at this point, considering the disastrous status of the school at present.

Jack’s heart sinks. He’s not being fired, but it’s al\most worse this way, dangling it in front of his face and making him do tricks like a show pony to prove he deserves to keep the position. He’s out of words, clenching his jaw and choosing not to give Yancy the satisfaction of a response. But he hardly needs one -- Yancy’s smugness is detectable from a mile away.

Yancy: You are, of course, welcome to reapply to keep your position, Jackson. In fact, I encourage it -- the board deserves the opportunity to reject you outright. [ a beat ] Until then, I suggest you start considering alternatives. You may very well be saying goodbye to Adams with your precious senior A class by the time this school year concludes.

With that, there’s nothing left to say. Yancy spins and leaves Jack to grapple with this info bomb on his own, at least giving him the dignity of reacting on his own.

Jack gets to his feet, closing the door behind Yancy. Then he finds himself slowly leaning against it, like all the energy has been zapped right out of him. His jaw twitches, eyes glossing over, like everything he’s been balancing and building up barricades against for years is about to break through and totally overrun him…

But he takes a deep breath, steels himself, and releases it with a sigh. Right now, there’s work to be done. Things to see through. And when the time comes to face the prospects, well, he’ll deal with it then.

Straightening up and clearing his throat, Jack moves back to his desk and settles in his chair. Back to work, doing what needs to be done as principal.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The A class is gathered for their first class since the weekend, all still chatty and buzzy with excitement from their victory. They’re up on the stage, chatting in small clusters about their performance and complimenting one another on their finest moments. Dylan and Asher in particular are huddled with Jade, gossiping about what happened with Nigel and what she thinks their first date is going to be.

But they snap back to attention when Harper and Shawn enter, the former enthusiastically taking the stage and greeting them as the Manhattan Showdown champs. This earns a loud cheer, Harper offering her own applause and letting them soak up the pride. Then she goes on to explain just how proud of them she is, how inspired she is by what they pulled off, and how remarkably moving it was to watch them come together to create something irrefutably them.

Harper: As you all surely remember, I was a bit out of my element when I came here last year. I thought I knew Triple A, but you all were another brand entirely. And you didn’t make easy on me -- or yourselves -- so I always wondered how you’d manage to pull this off. Now I realize it was silly of me to doubt. You, the senior A class, are full of unexpected surprises -- and I think that might just be your greatest strength.

Hear, hear! As for assignments this week, it’s the last week before winter break, so Harper admits she doesn’t really know what they should do either. After such a crazy few weeks, she feels like they’ve been tested enough.

As it turns out, maybe no reason is exactly the thing they need to perform right now. Riley says as much, sharing her thinking that while the rush of the last few weeks have been exciting, it’s been a minute since any of them just got to sing for the joy of it. Which is a shame, a travesty, considering that’s why all of them are at this school, in this place, together. Love of the art.

So that’s what they do. For the first time in months, the A class breaks into song because they want to. Because they can. Because it unites all of them, even when there’s no pressure or thing to fight for.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “To Noise Making (Sing)” as performed by Hozier || Performed by AAA Seniors

Riley kicks us off, singing happily to her classmates as she stands at the center of the stage. She makes her way around and shares a little moment with all of them, gradually pulling all of them into the harmonies, until she’s got the collective singing along. From there, her classmates step up to share focus, Zay, Maya, Isadora, Chai, and Yindra just a few of the notable ones to take a solo for a couple lines. Farkle takes the bridge, accepting an affectionate side hug from Riley as he does.

Harper and Shawn watch from the back of the front center section, swaying and grooving along. Eric has come to join them, but he can tell something is missing. He glances over his shoulder towards the doors, looking for Jack, but he’s nowhere to be found.

Then the A class comes together, all making their way into a closer formation at center stage. Nigel takes Jade’s hand and pulls her gently into the group, twirling her under his arm. Riley makes sure Lucas gets included in the throng, though this time he hardly seems reluctant, throwing his arm around her shoulders. He’s not singing, mind you, but here’s there in the moment with the rest of them.

And that’s where we leave them as we close out this half-season. The united A class, exhausted but still going strong, vindicated victors, brimming with unbelievable potential for the future.

Can’t wait to see what happens next.

END OF EPISODE.

#308 #episodes #S3 #like... wow y'all. we made it #IM SO HAPPY FOR Y'ALL TO EXPERIENCE IT. HAVE FUN #<33333

[baekberrie]

havana

☾ Genre: Romance, dirty dancing!au, rich girl!au

☾ Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

☾  Warnings: few typos and errors, possibly repeated words. Bear with me :(

☾ Summary: Tired. You were so tired of doing everything your parents wanted you to do, tired of the dullness that was your life. You wanted to break free and shape your being, you wanted to be yourself, not your parents' puppet. But never had you imagined that your little rebellion would have ended up involving dirty dancing and an incredibly flirty dance teacher."I'll teach you and we'll do the competition together, but expect hard training," 

The feeling of relief and gratefulness was overwhelming you to the point of your lips forming into a smile that you wholeheartedly directed to him. Your nose almost bumped into his as you did, sending your heart berserk within your chest. The fragrance of his cologne was washing over you like water and you found yourself urging to inhale it deeply, but fought against it. The dancer showed no sign of nervousness at the close proximity, moreover, he was smirking teasingly down at you as he brought his lips to the shell of your ear.

"Hard training, and lots and lots of...Touching."

Your heart leaped out of your chest upon the foreign view, the Latin music pulsed into your headache while your eyes tried to distinguish every movement taking place in front of you. Some hands were thrown up in the air while others were sensually tracing the shape of the other's body. You were shocked, scandalized by the amount of physical contact in front of your eyes. But deep down, a strong intrigue was surging from where you had suppressed everything you could've already been by now.

You wanted to let yourself go like that too.ba

Oh gosh.

How would you define yourself? That had been a question many people in Cuba had thrown when first getting to know you. What do you like to do? Emptiness had filled your chest when you had found yourself completely unable to answer. A good girl, perhaps? At times you wondered if that would have been a righteous answer. Your whole life had you made sure to preserve the happiness on your parents' faces by reaching the highest grades in school, by acting like a proper lady, graceful and beautiful. But never had you invested into something you liked. Hence, you had never even gotten the chance to find out what you truly liked. And yet again, you had done what commanded without complaints when your parents had announced moving to Cuba for business. There was this thick bubble surrounding you that the friends you had made in this country had desperately attempted to pop. Until now, you had never been interested and so never complied. You and your Cuban friends were reaching the peak of your teens, where you would truly become alive at night.

Curiosity had surged within you when they had spoken about clubs- dancing and becoming one with music. For your whole life, you had only been the dull, perfect girl that obeyed to everything said, and you contrasted so strongly with the crazy and cheerful girls that had nonetheless accepted you in their circle.

Over thirty degrees, the sun was shining its brightest on the spotless sky of Havana. Sweat was prickling on your skin and it was slowly getting unbearable as no amount of breeze was enough to soothe the hot weather. A few weeks had passed since your arrival, though, it didn't seem like you could get completely used to the high temperature just yet. The air fan was on the highest mode next to you, fluttering your hair behind your shoulders as you glanced at your mother from underneath your lashes while she did her thing in the kitchen. Windows stood open and the busy streets echoed against the walls of your new home. The lady walked elegantly out of the kitchen, her dress fluttering beautifully behind her hips as she placed the cool glass of iced tea in front of you. A sweet smile graced her scarlet lips before she took the seat in front of you and resumed the reading of her book. The ice on the bottom of the glass let out a cracking noise as it clicked against the inner walls of the cup. You gulped away the dry sensation in your throat with a long sip of your tea, sighing with satisfaction when there wasn't a single drop left in your cup. The cool icy feeling pulsed against your lips and you pressed them together.

"Mother?" your voice was careful when you attempted to gain her attention. She looked curiously up from the pages with the same smile still plastered on her lips. "Yes, my dear?" She encouraged and you could only hold your thumbs for luck. Although you knew what her answer to whatever you were going to ask was, you still gave it a try, thinking that perhaps you could convince her and your father this one time.

"Well, you know..." You started nervously, fingers hysterically fidgeting in your lap, "My friends invited me out this evening and I thought I'd let you know-"

"What are you talking about, darling? We have a very important party to attend tonight, which is also more enjoyable than any other lousy bar your friends could ever visit, no?" The woman hadn't hesitated to interrupt you, in fact, she never had to hear it all to know where the conversation was going. Lately, you had been insisting on getting to meet up with your friends day after day, only to get the same reply every time.

"What would be so special about a couple of lower-class people anyhow? I do not understand darling." She continued to ponder out loud and with your heart-clenching, you caught up on the exasperation hidden in her undertone.

Never had you ever complained because you had genuinely thought that your parents must have known what was best for your wellbeing. Every time they had told you that they did it to protect you because it was dangerous, you had believed it. But as the days passed, you had started losing trust in those words. There was no doubt in the fact that their strictness had started with the good intention to keep you safe. Though, as those words left your mother's mouth, the meaningfulness behind their actions was just losing its significance. You did not feel protected anymore, you felt trapped. The more your mother sputtered words of disgrace towards the people that you befriended, the surer you felt that this protection of theirs had morphed into an excuse to keep you from reaching out to something that you were desperately longing for. A breath of air. Freedom. Something that could make you find out who you truly were, what you enjoyed. Something that would drive you to rebellion against their plans for your future.

Although now old enough, you had never known anything but obedience. In the beginning, you had been quite proud of yourself for being such a truthful daughter, but there was no denying in the fact it was getting extremely lonely and suffocating. They would always remind you how you did not belong to the people of this country, but these were just empty reminders because neither did you feel like you belonged to the rich teens of the same social class. Never in your life had you felt as lonely like you had done next to them. It had been on a fancy party, that obviously, held business purposes, that you had realized the aggravating truth. The superficiality of those you were forced to integrate with. They did not really care about you, whether you were a good person or not. They did not bother to know what you enjoyed and whatnot. They only wanted to befriend because they knew you had many treasures, overflowing money. The more money you owned, the more they wished to acquaintance with you.

That was not the reality you wanted to live in. Those were not the people you wanted to associate yourself with.

☾☾☾

"Are you sure that you do not want to come with us, honey?" Your mother asked once again and a frown twisted your lips when she gave your hair a firmer pull with the brush to get through the tangles in your hair. Scented candles were spreading a refined fragrance of vanilla. There was a certain nervousness tickling the inside of your tummy and you inhaled the calming scent for comfort. The candles dimly illuminated the bedroom together with the lights adorning the fancy vanity mirror in which you were sitting in front of. In the mirror, you could see your mother's reflection as she swept the brush through your long hair, something that she loved to do before you'd go to sleep although you had grown out of that age a long time ago. It served as an opportunity to bond with you, to talk with you about how the day had gone, how you were feeling, and you appreciated every second of it.

Her figure sparkled like the finest diamond underneath millions of spotlights. The clock ticked nine in the evening, which you didn't find late at all. Nonetheless, your body was already framed by a beautiful nightgown. It had been a gift from your mother and it wasn't a surprise how it ad became your favorite clothing. You just loved how the silvery garment embraced your body ever so perfectly, its delicate fabric combined lovingly with your pearly skin. But the beautiful nightdress was nothing compared to the reflection of your mother right behind you. That emerald green dress of satin was really doing her justice and you could just not seem to take your eyes off her. She looked absolutely gorgeous.

"Yes mother, I don't feel too well, but don't you worry about me. You should go and have fun with father." You sent her a small smile through your reflection and you hoped that she wouldn't notice the urge in your voice. Your mother smiled back with a nod and placed a peck on the crown of your head.

"Alright then, we'll be back home late so don't you wait for us and go to sleep early, okay?" They were going to attend one of their rich friend's parties out of town and obviously, you had lied about being sick. You weren't feeling particularly enthusiastic to go to another of those parties. They were tiresome and always the same. There were only a few teens of your age at those events and you always found it aggravating, the way it was so clear that they wanted to befriend you only because you were rich too. You knew that not all of them were like that, but to your nonexistent luck, you hadn't met any better. You were tired of these sumptuous surroundings, you wanted to see something different for once, something that wasn't gold and diamonds.

As soon as the noise of your parents' car starting up resounded from outside, you were quick to dig up your favorite red lipstick from your make up pouch. Carefully, you swiped it across your plump lips and pressed them together to spread its scarlet color evenly. The rouge and highlighter applied on your cheeks enhanced your already beautiful features extremely well, you had never felt so pretty. The sparkles on your eyelids and the unusual length of your lashes were so luscious, giving you a hard time deciding where to look.

Fighting the urge to bite your lip, you pulled out the dress that your friend had lent you for this specific occasion. In the beginning, you had tried to refuse, knowing that you had more dresses than you could've asked for back at home, but the girl had been so insistent. She had without any delicacy told you that the way you dressed would've kept away the guys which had left you quite offended, you found nothing wrong with the way that you dressed.

The black dress was, to say the least, tight- tighter than what it looked like while on a clothing hanger and you couldn't help but feel extremely unsure whether you'd ever feel comfortable in such clothing. Its fabric hugged your curves perfectly and the blinding sparkles complimented your milky skin, making it shimmer likewise and you were so astonished by your own reflection. Never had you known that you could've looked like you were doing now. Your eyes fell onto your chest where your cleavage wasn't too exposed but was nonetheless was the most revealing thing you had ever worn and its naked sensation covered your body like chills on the edges of your skin. The image of your mother's widening eyes at the view crossed your mind and you begged the Gods that they wouldn't find out about your escapade.

Knowing that butlers and maids were still roaming around the mansion, you opted with tiptoeing to the back door, your black heel dangled from the tips of your fingers. It was slowly dawning on you that you were for the first time doing something you were absolutely not allowed to do, something that would disappoint your parents. But something for yourself, when was the last time you had done that? The question replayed in your head until it silenced the restless doubts clouding your mind. While tying the heels around your heels you could still hear the tiniest voice in your head telling you to let it be, to not risk anything, that it wouldn't be worth it. But the adrenaline-accelerating your heartbeat was stronger and before you knew it, your legs had already started sprinting towards the street where your friends would pick you up. The noise of your heels clicking into the concrete echoed into the night.

☾☾☾

Obnoxiously loud music was blasting through the speakers and the way it was hearable even when outside the Latin themed club made your lips twist into a frown. The music was in a foreign language that you could've guessed was Spanish. Your girlfriends were radiating excitement with every inch of their bodies as you stood in line and their faces were enlightened by bright smiles while their hips were already subtly swaying to the music. Upon observing them, you remembered something they had said about music and becoming one with it. You couldn't comprehend what that had truly meant, how you were supposed to do that?- The fact that you had never danced anything but ballroom dance struck you in the face and made you feel like maybe you weren't supposed to be there after all.

Before you could indulge yourself with more self suppressing thoughts, you were pushed inside the club. A surprised gasp left your lips at the extreme change of temperature inside. It was hot, extremely hot, and stuffy. It hadn't been even a minute inside there and your lungs were already longing for oxygen and fresh air. The dance floor was overflowing with people that danced with their bodies tightly pressed together. But that was not what startled you the most.

Your heart leaped out of your chest upon the foreign view, the Latin music pulsed into your headache while your eyes tried to distinguish every movement taking place in front of you. Some hands were thrown up in the air while others were sensually tracing the shape of the other's body. You were shocked, scandalized by the amount of physical contact in front of your eyes. But deep down, a strong intrigue was surging from where you had suppressed everything you could've already been by now.

You wanted to let yourself go like that too.

Oh gosh.

With excited cheers, your friends had already stormed into the crowded dance floor, leaving you utterly confused and out of place, alone by the bar and completely miserable. A sigh pushed past your lips, you should've expected this to happen, they were always one step ahead while you were still trying to integrate yourself in this reality that you did not even know whether you liked or not.

Letting your eyes observe the people dancing, you were to be surprised when they suddenly started cheering extremely loudly and the crowd formed some space for a couple dancing together in the center of the floor. Intrigue surged within you and you squeezed your eyes to get a sharper look. The young man did not look Latin, and yet he moved as if it was that exact blood running through his veins. His hips rolled swiftly and his hand curled around his partner's breast for the quickest second until it was tracing the outline of her thigh by his waist, pushing it back down. Your mouth was hanging open in astonishment at the extremely...Sensual moves he had just pulled off. They were scandalizing for your innocent eyes, and yet, upon watching, butterflies had fluttered their wings wildly in your belly. Not much attention was paid to the girl, you just couldn't find it in yourself to take your eyes off that man who was like a strong magnet to your eyes, stealing every single spotlight there was to take.

His hair was dark with streaks of red melting into his black locks, reaching his nape and his fringe parted neatly on his forehead. The button-down shirt hung loose on his body as he moved, though most of the buttons were popped open for everyone to see the way sweat glistened on the smooth skin of his chest along with the many necklaces placing themself right in between his defined pectorals. Your little staring game was abruptly interrupted when his eyes suddenly met your gaze and you felt yourself flaring up, immediately turning around to face the bartender. For some reason, your throat was feeling extremely dry. Embarrassment was all you could feel. Great. Not only were you on your own but also embarrassing yourself in front of handsome guys. This was not how you had planned for your little rebellion to go. It was painfully obvious how you had never been here before. Regret started kicking in, why had you thought that doing this was a great idea? What part of your brain had convinced you that going to a completely new place you knew nothing about had been great?

And as if that hadn't been enough, a tipsy guy who could've never been up to any good had found interest in your lonely figure by the bar, reaching you with a playful smirk on his lips.

"Can I get you a drink, gorgeous?" you groaned inwardly yet kept your composure on the outside as you shook your head.

"Thank you, sir, but I'll decline." You refused politely and your answer brought a frown on the man's face. "No need to be so formal sweetie, don't be shy, I insist." His eyes twinkled mischievously upon watching you and you felt shivers going down your spine.

"I insist too, no thanks." You gritted through your teeth, hoping that the man would finally understand that no meant no and you shouldn't have to repeat yourself. Though he seemed really stubborn as he slid closer to you, elbows leaning against the bar counter as the cocky smirk on his face only grew wider. Sigh, he was a lost cause, did he think you were playing hard to get? "Oh come on!" He whined, tugging at your hand which you immediately yanked out of his hold.

"What do you think you are doing!?" You felt yourself raise your voice and the boy raised his hands in defense as if he hadn't just attempted to invade your personal space.

"Why so feisty?" He cooed, the alcohol in his system rended him incapable to understand your signals as to his overly sweet smile just grew fonder second after second. Truthfully, you wanted to leave and you were about to until you felt the slight touch of a chest brushing against your elbows when someone stood behind you.

"Alright," A sultry voice called, directed to the person who was bothering you. "I think it is time to stop bothering the lady, hm? Before I tell the guards." The man spoke calmly while sounding rather friendly, but you caught on the hidden threats underneath the sugarcoated words. Relief washed over you when the man huffed annoyedly and left without another word. Turning around, you felt as if your tongue had tied itself into a tight knot upon seeing the person looking down at you. Indeed, it wasn't any other than the young man you had seen dirty dancing on the dance floor just a few moments ago. To say that you were surprised to see him right behind you was a huge understatement. For some reason, your heart had started pounding excitedly in your chest when you met his sparkling gaze. His eyes who were like the finest green emeralds intrigued you more than anything, but you were not going to let him notice that.

"Everything okay?" He asked, concerned, and you almost forgot to answer when so engrossed into his perfect looks. How did this man look like he just came out of the hottest vintage movie even with sweat glistening on his skin? Quickly regaining your senses, you gave him a nod and a faint smile. "Yes, and thank you, sir, he was not going to leave me alone."

"You can call me Baekhyun," He introduced himself smoothly, finding your politeness very unfitting for the environment, but was nonetheless endeared by your impeccable manners as he sent you a playful smile. You had to fight the smile from breaking on your lips at the way he had just managed to introduce himself without having you ask for it.

"Are you here by yourself?" He finally asked what he had been dying to know, to which you could only shake your head dejectedly.

"I'm here with my friends, but instead of helping me integrate, they immediately jumped into the crowd." You explained, not bothering to mask the disappointment behind your words. Truthfully, maybe your imagination had been very different from what the reality was. Your friends were great dancers while all you had ever learned was ballroom dancing for the luxurious parties that you would be forced to attend. You had imagined how your friends would've dragged you with them to the dance floor and encouraged you to come out of your comfort zone, but that had been nothing but a pretty image that your imagination had created.

Baekhyun's eyebrow quirked at the information and you could tell that what you had just told him did not sit well with him. But as if a light bulb had enlightened above of his head, his eyes suddenly widened with excitement and he extended his hand toward you. The smirk on his lips made flowers bloom, tickling your insides while his green orbs allured you to place your hand in his, but you did not give in just yet.

"Then would you let me attend you?" Baekhyun offered sweetly, using the same polite manners that you had shown him before. You couldn't lie to yourself, you were extremely tempted to run your fingertips against his beautiful inviting palm that was so eagerly waiting for you to hold it, whose skin seemed like silk underneath the blinking neon lights of the night club.

Deciding to play hard to get, you returned the sugarcoated smirk, quirking a curious eyebrow. "I rejected the other man, what makes you believe I will go with you, Mister?" You challenged, but Baekhyun did not look the slightest taken aback by your advances, instead, he leaned his side on the counter to come slightly closer to you. In his orbs shone mischievousness mixed with confidence and you could already see your defeat coming, he knew exactly what he was going to use against you.

"Well..." He murmured huskily, and his sultry voice was still so clear in your ears even though the loud music was vibrating through the walls. Eyelashes kissing his cheeks, Baekhyun gave you a little glance from underneath his lashes before meeting your eyes completely, daring to tuck a couple of your stray hairs behind your ear. You had no idea why you had let him do that while the touch of the previous male had disturbed you so greatly. Yet, Baekhyun had been so careful, so gentle while never letting the confidence in his demeanor dare to crumble. You felt entranced, anticipating what he would say next with that pretty voice of his.

"You were watching me so intently while I danced, it seemed as if you were dying to let loose some too, am I wrong?"  No, he had been completely right, indeed, within that minimal eye contact you had shared as he had danced, he had been able to figure out exactly what had gone through that mind of yours.

Not knowing how to respond to his accuracy, you looked away in contemplation, lips tugged between your teeth. You could not tell if you were like an extremely predictable book to Baekhyun, or if he was just really skilled in reading people's expressions. For when you had left him hanging to try and fight back, he had rolled his eyes as if knowing exactly that you were solely trying the hide the fact that you wanted to dance. "Oh come on Kitten, just give in," He encouraged you knowingly, grabbing your hand and tugging you with him where everyone was letting loose.

That night ended up being slightly blurry because of the many delicious strawberry ciders you had drunk. You were not yourself, the sweet and fizzy alcohol had taken its toll on you. Despite everything, there were some things that your fazed conscious wouldn't miss. And that resulted to be the many laughs bubbling from your throat at the funny things Baekhyun would say. Baekhyun's beautiful voice and his warm breath fanning the shell of your ear. His delicate hands gripping your hips tightly from behind while his chest pressed against your back. Baekhyun; a beautiful stranger and yet a well-known dancer in the clubs. Baekhyun who had not needed to stay with you the whole night as he had done. Baekhyun who took you home.

Baekhyun who would've forgotten about you the morning later- And then there was you, who would've remembered as if the most precious memory.

☾☾☾

03:00 am

The streets were asleep as you quietly made your way to the porch, keys dangling from your perfectly manicured fingers. Even though nighttime, the heat had never budged the slightest from the air, leaving a thin layer of sticky sweat on your skin after the extreme dance session back in the club. The picture of Baekhyun dancing with you was still freshly imprinted into your head, so clearly so that you could still recall his intense green eyes and sensual movements right in front of your eyes. How the neon lights had painted his milky skin in every color. You knew you were probably never going to see him again. But this was an experience you were going to write down, one you would treasure dearly. Because it had finally made you realize something about yourself.

You had loved dancing. Even if not so very talented, you had adored every second of the freedom you had gotten when completely abandoned to the music pulsating through the speakers and into your veins. The friends of yours had never understood your complaints. Sure, maybe you had everything you could have ever wished for; an overflowing wealth, a luxurious house, every dress you wanted within a matter of seconds. But what meaning, what benefit would all of these things give to you if you had no freedom? You were bound to comply with anything that your parents had planned out for your future, and if you dared to speak against it, you were going to be considered a shame to the family, a failure.

Just a little puppet, that was what you were after all.

Fear clenched your heart upon seeing the dimmed lights of the hallway from the windows. A part of you told yourself not to be surprised about what was going to occur, but the uncertainty was too strong. You had broken the rules, your parents' trust, and now, two very important things to you were balancing upon a scale. Their happiness and your freedom.

Which one were you going to value the most?

The door closed with a click behind you and you held in your breath nervously. For as soon as you had stepped inside, footsteps had already been hearable coming from somewhere within the house.

No more holding back, you told yourself. No more.

"Where have you been!?" Your mother's hysteric whisper came your way, her eyes pooled with what seemed to be worry and fury. She was taking deep breaths while trying to tame her anger, the hair was slightly tousled and you understood that her distress had been genuine when you noticed that she hadn't even bothered to remove the glittering make up from her face. Something that she normally would do right away when back home, as it would damage her skin if kept for too long.

Meeting her gaze, you answered calmly, "I was out dancing with my friends." Your words were sincere as you spoke, but your calm demeanor had failed their purpose to tranquilize your mother. Blood rushed to her face while your father was running his hands soothingly down her arms.

"How insolent!" She yelled with disbelief and anger dripping from her lips. She stormed toward your figure and you felt freeze in your spot. With your feet glued onto the floor, your heart started crashing against your ribs and its noise was resonating within your ears as if the most powerful bass.

"How could you sneak out like that? Without saying anything?!" Your mother's voice was gradually becoming more breathy the more she spoke. Tears gathered in her pretty eyes. "Do you know how worried we were?! Don't you ever dare to do that again!" Teeth dug into your lips. Your fingers were shaking against your sides. Heart drowning in guilt but all at once pulled away by the strings of restraint, a flame had burst within you, and it had already grown into an untamable fire.

"But you would not allow me to do anything, this is the outcome, mother." Her eyes widened at your statement, and before you knew it, a loud noise resounded in the hallway as your mother's palm collided with your cheek. You gasped for air at the burning sensation taking over the side of your face, the shape of your mother's hand lingered on your cheek.

"How dare you,"

You had no idea what took over you at that moment, infinite courage that you would one day regret to have taken over you. A rage so strong, enough to cloud your senses and make you talk back to your parents. Tears were offuscating your view and quick puffs left your trembling lips. For how long were they going to keep you locked in this house, expecting you to be okay with it? Just for how long were they going to keep you from living your life however you wanted to?'

"Oh, I dare mother!" You screamed back, " I've asked of your permission so many times but you just would not budge. Never have I ever disobeyed you, I've always lived up to your expectations and done everything you wanted me to, but why do I not deserve to choose for myself this once?" Despair clawed through your voice and your parents were looking back at you with shock and confusion distorting their faces. Though, it quickly morphed int exasperation.

"What have we ever not given you to make you this unhappy?" Your father questioned dejectedly, " Why would you act so ungratefully?" Ungrateful? You wanted to laugh, but you swallowed down the lump in your throat.

"You do not understand, father, I..., I feel trapped, I don't feel like I am the person I want to be, like this," By now, all the energies had been sucked out of your body by the intense conversation. Your muscles were screaming for rest while your eyes begged for sleep. But your parents wanted more explanations.

"I want to experience life on my own, to make my decisions, to find my friends, and create relationships."

That they were confused was e big understatement. Their spoiled minds could just not wrap themselves around the fact that you might've felt much more comfortable in an environment that was not necessarily the sparkling reality of richness and wealth that you had been born into. "W-what?" Your mother stuttered. You inhaled deeply as an attempt to collect your emotions and find the right words.

"I do not want to limit myself to the way we're living right now. Neither do I want you to decide on my future. Please," You pleaded, "I beg of you, try to understand and consider what I am saying." Nonetheless your tries, the confusion didn't subdue from your parents' faces. "What could you ever find out there that is better than what our world has to offer?" Your mother scoffed, blinded by her society, induced to not know any better- to not even try and see what more there was to life.

"Mother..." You coaxed, hoping that your composure would ease her upset mood, "I think I want to try out dancing." There. You said it. You could only squeeze your eyes shut in front of the blow that was about to come. Because of that, you missed the way your mother's eyes widened with shock. Your father had his silent ways to deal with the news as he kept quiet, probably battling with himself within his thoughts. Compared to your mother, his patience would last the longest while the smallest of things could send your mother ballistic.

"No. Absolutely not." She concluded, making you snap your gaze to hers, letting her see the disappointed tears merging within your orbs.

"But why?!" You cried, looking at your father this time, pleading him silently with your eyes and you were to be disheartened by the doubt on his face. It did look like he had something to say, but your mother beat him to it, and he did not oppose it.

"I should not even have to explain myself." The level of unfair was making a very strong desire to scream surge within the darkest pit of your being, the frustration and rage you were experiencing at that moment was the strongest emotion you'd ever felt. Never in your life had you seen yourself reacting this way to your parents, with your blood crazily boiling in your veins and a restless strength in your body that made your fingers curl into fists.

"And this is the end of the discussion. We are not playing around, we are here for strict business. Remember that." Your mother threw the cold truth upon you, mercilessly. "No more escapades at night and no more of those friends of yours. I should have known they were nothing but a bad influence." She snarled, scanning your body from head to toe.

"Now change out of that...Dress, and go to sleep. I do not want to hear such nonsense from you ever again." You had always loved and respected your mother for the brilliant woman she was, as a person, and obviously in her abilities within the business. But this, the way she just broke your heart to shreds and ripped you from your freedom, you were afraid you could never forgive that. Not this time

☾☾☾

Tension. That was probably not the appropriate word to describe the thick, awkward aura that floated in the air when you and your parents sat the dining table for breakfast the next morning. The crisp scent of the freshly toasted bread along with the newly washed strawberries set on the table would have by now made your stomach grumble excitedly. But seeing their faces had been enough for your hunger to get chased away. They spoke casually though it was obvious how last night's argument was weighing down on their shoulders.

A deep sigh left your lips when you finally had enough and stood up to leave. Swinging your purse up your shoulder caused your mother's eyes to find you warily.

"Where are you going?" She urged with an accusatory tone in her voice. Swallowing down the need to snap back, you answered calmly: "I am going out for a walk around the blocks. Just like I do every morning." Indeed, that was a part of your daily routine and you almost smirked when your mother's lips pursed together. For she could not take away something that you had been doing since your arrival in this country, and it was not going to change because of a fight.

As you made your way through the busy streets you wondered what place to visit, your morning walks were always a great opportunity to explore new areas that you could find near your home. A soft breeze fluttered your shirtdress, making a sweet hum tumble down your lips at the refreshing contrast against the unbearable warmth from the sun. But most of all, you loved the noise of the cicadas singing in the summer heat, the fragrance of coffee deriving from the many cafeés down the streets. The chatters, the children playing.

The more you walked and looked around, the more posters on the wall started appearing, announcing a Latin dancing contest. Its bright colors caught your eyes right away and without any hesitation, you ripped the piece of paper off the wall to have a closer look. In four weeks. You had no experience, and yet, even for a little moment, you couldn't help but imagine yourself dancing in the middle of a stage, standing out in between all the other couples as you danced a dance that was different from the others. One that screamed freedom. Just the thought made your legs feel ticklish, your heart beat excitedly in your chest. Oh, how you wished to participate.

Your train of thoughts was abruptly interrupted by the noise of two people screaming. Brows furrowed on your face, you looked around, only to find out that the hollers were coming from a glass door just a few meters away from you. Without thinking, you followed the noise and entered the little building. There was an empty reception and not too far away, an open door, in which you could make out a man and a woman conversating animatedly. You quickly realized that it hadn' been a simple conversation when the girl suddenly swung her palm to the man's cheek, imprinting her hand onto his face with a scarlet red. The noise echoed loudly and without being able to contain your curiousness, you scurried closer, getting a glimpse of how big that room actually was. Its walls were covered by mirrors, reflecting the two people from every angle.

"You're such a jerk Byun Baekhyun! Do that damn dance contest on your own!" The girl shrieked before storming off. Her thundering gaze met yours for the quickest second, and it had been so extremely chilling that you praised the Lord that she did not stop to talk to you. Her loud stomping responded in the small studio, resembling such noise as of a pack of horses.

Byun Baekhyun...Baekhyun, that name sounded incredibly familiar indeed. A little gasp left your lips when you gave the man a better look. Of course, how could you ever forget those black curls with flaring scarlet streaks melting within his strands? The green jewels that were his eyes and the low cut shirt flaunting his toned chest? His whole figure was familiar, well, except that red handprint on his cheek, that is. Stifling a little laugh, you allowed yourself to be seen and stepped inside what seemed to be a practice room.

"Are you okay, sir?" You called out softly, "I think I can feel that slap on my own cheek," You could not refrain yourself from teasing the man while gracing your fingers on your own face. Upon hearing your voice, he snapped out of his gaze and you were surprised when the confusion on his face did not last longer than a second. The realization made a smile curl his pretty lips, and only then did you notice how a golden ring was embracing his protruding underlip, rendering him unnecessarily attractive.

"Oh? Isn't it the lost kitten from last night," Baekhyun recognized you immediately and a  pleasant feeling fulfilled you. Perhaps, what you felt was a tad stronger, you realized. Inside of your chest was a whole jungle of flowers blooming and you were uneasy with the fact that you could not explain to yourself why you were feeling that way. The whole night you had told yourself that you were probably never going to see him again, and yet, there he was right before you, only the next day.

"How can I help you, Princesa?" For a second, you were completely taken aback by the sudden endearment that had rolled off his lips. The fact that your cheeks were clearly flaring up for him to see flustered you to no end. You were no master in the Latin language, but you knew enough to know how flirty he had sounded. It hadn't been random of him to call you that, by saying princess, he was very clearly teasing you about the polite manners you had shown yesterday in the club and how painfully they had contrasted with the environment.

"Well, I..." You started once back to your senses, a bit confused as of how you were going to answer the question since you were not sure why you were there either. The dancer quirked an amused brow and you cursed your cheeks for heating up uncontrollably. Truthfully, the man had the most intense- the most entrancing gaze you had ever encountered, and the blame you put on his beautiful eyes as well as the red eyeshadow placed on his waterline to give further depth to his stare.

"I was just taking a walk when I stumbled here, what kind of place is this?" Although the difficulty to answer just a few moments ago, the question you had asked was nothing but genuine.  For the shortest moment, you caught on the distressed feeling flickering on his face before he masked it with a confident smirk. To be honest, he conveyed it so well that you for a while wondered if you had hallucinated his previous expression.

"This is my dance studio." The word dance made fireworks explode in your chest as you showed Baekhyun your eager expression.

"Woah! So you are a dance teacher!" You exclaimed, not being able to contain your enthusiasm. This was the perfect opportunity. Your mother could do as much as keep you away from your friends and going out at night, but she could most definitely not stop you from doing whatever during the day. She was constantly busy with work, so you figured out she would not even notice your further absence. Baekhyun bit his lip hesitantly and your eyes moved on their own as they took in the way his lip ring disappeared behind his drilling teeth.

"I used to teach, but that's not the case anymore." He explained without any details which only made your interest grow.

"May I ask why? I apologize for listening to your conversation with the lady, but I believe you were going to participate in the dance contest?" At this point, questions were flowing nonstop out of mouth and Baekhyun had to hush you to answer.

"You're a curious one, aren't you?" He murmured with a hint of sarcasm to which you only smiled sweetly at him. Normally, he wouldn't have given in so easily, but your curious demeanor was endearing to him and he couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his pretty lips. "Why don't you take a seat?" Baekhyun offered, leading you to a round glass table where he kindly took out a chair for you before his own.

"Where were we...Ah, yes, the dance competition." Baekhyun pondered out loud while taking a seat in front of you. You had noticed how he was purposely ignoring the first question you had asked, but without taking it personally. In the end, you had known each other for barely two days, and for all you could know, it might've been a sensitive topic for him.

"The Latin dancing competition takes place every summer, and the price they offer is very high," A little smirk quirked the corner of his lip at the thought of money and it took all of you not to blush at the way he leaned his cheek onto his palm and stared intently. "And as you may have seen, or, eavesdropped."  Baekhyun raised his eyebrow playfully, the smile never faltering. "I was going to participate but my partner dumped me just now. I might have to pass on this one." He played it off cool by slouching against the backrest of his chair, almost flawlessly masking his true disappointment. Almost. His smile was as always, so incredibly charming with those pearly white teeth peeking by his lips,  but this time the sorrow in his green eyes lingered.

You hadn't really thought through your words before you pronounced them, much less paid attention to any possible consequences, all you knew was that you had to take the opportunity that had opened itself right in front of you.

"It would be a pity if you gave up at the cause of your partner. Perhaps I'll come off too strong but," You hesitated, "Maybe I could...replace her?" That was what managed to wipe the smirk off his face, expression morphing into one of pure astonishment that quickly shifted to doubt.

"Oh, kitten, It's not that easy." He refused, "A lot of training is involved and I am afraid that you are not cut out for this kind of dancing." Now,  as nice as he was trying to sound, it did not manage to keep you calm. Why would he say that when he did not even know anything about you?

"Why are you so quick to judge me?" You fired back without letting him finish what he was about to say. Baekhyun looked at you knowingly while he stood up from his chair and offered you his hand challengingly. Gulping loudly, you took it and stood up as well. Had you not been as nervous, your thoughts would have probably wandered away to heaven because Baekhyun had unfairly enough, the most beautiful hands you had ever seen- ever touched, his skin the closest thing to silk on earth. Your breath lost itself in your lungs when you suddenly found yourself being pressed against his toned chest. Lifting your gaze up, you met Baekhyun's green oceans, and only then did you realize how incredibly close the two of you were standing. From his parted lips escaped small breaths that landed on your skin. It was inevitable, being extremely conscious of every part of his body that was touching yours. Your thoughts swirled into one big mess and you found yourself in a daze.

Baekhyun's body held a warmth that to you resembled the feeling of sun rays warming up your skin when shivering. All you could wrap your head around was the way his body shaped so perfectly against yours. Though, the comforting sensation did not last long when you suddenly broke into a cold sweat. His hand that had been between your shoulder blades had started wandering down in a painfully slow manner and you found yourself completely unable to react until his fingertip surpassed their limit that was the small of your back. The palm of his large hand cupped your bum easily, making your chin drop.

"I-I," You stuttered, struggling to find your voice back. "Sir! Would you keep your hands to yourself! Dear God," The words tumbled out of your lips one after another as used all of your strength to push him away from you. Heat was gathering on your cheeks as your hands were restlessly fixing your dress, then pushing your hair behind your ears as an attempt to cover up for your sudden outburst. You were confused to see Baekhyun being the least fazed by your actions. He sighed and took and sat back down on the chair.

"See? This is exactly what I mean," His hands gesticulated towards you as he spoke, "I am not just mindlessly judging you, you may not remember that well, but we danced together yesterday night and you became a rock at the sole touch of my hands." Teeth drilled into your lip at his words.  You wanted to fight back but you knew that would bring you nowhere. The memories from last night were indeed foggy and you could not recall that well, you were sure Baekhyun was not lying about your reaction to his touch.

"Do you know any Latin dance genres?" He then asked, to which you could only answer with a small no.

"But I can work on it! I promise that I'll work hard!" You insisted, only earning a sigh from the man.

"Sweetheart, I don't doubt your will to do this, but you are too...Too proper," A cringe twisted your lips when he said that, making you feel as if you were hopelessly trying to enter a world where you'd never belong.  "And three weeks is such a limited time, it'll never be enough for the required skills of the competition." The more he spoke, the more your hopes were crumbling into nothingness, why was everything in your life working against you? All you wanted to do was to try something new, something that could help you shape your being.

Small tears crystallized in your lashes, "Please...Baekhyun," You begged underneath your breath. "This means a lot to me and it is my only opportunity,  I promise I won't let you down, I'll work hard and I'll pay you whichever amount you need- just, please," You found yourself getting emotional at the thought of this opportunity disappearing before you could even reach out for it. At this point, even though you were begging the dancer, you had no actual expectations of him. You did not know each other and he owed you nothing. You would understand if he'd decline.

"Hey, hey, no don't cry-" Baekhyun panicked and stood up to get next to you. His arms found their way around your shoulders in the hope to console you. " Fine, I'll do it just stop crying, okay?" He eventually gave in against his will. When he saw you calming down he allowed himself to sigh, inwardly telling himself that he wouldn't lose anything by doing this, that he might as well do it for himself too.

"I'll teach you and we'll do the competition, but expect hard training," The feeling of relief and gratefulness was overwhelming you to the point of your lips forming into a smile that you wholeheartedly directed to him. Your nose almost bumped into his as you did, sending your heart berserk within your chest. The fragrance of his cologne was washing over you like water and you found yourself urging to inhale it deeply, but fought against it.  The dancer showed no sign of nervousness at the close proximity, moreover, he was smirking teasingly down at you as he brought his lips to the shell of your ear.

"Hard training, and lots and lots of...Touching."

A massive gasp left your mouth and his melodic yet evil laugh echoed in the practice room. But at the end of the day, you were officially going to follow your newfound dream.

☾☾☾

When you had told your parents that you were going to start working out, it hadn't been a complete lie. In the first week of training, Baekhyun had really not cut you any slack with the physical strength and that explained why you would return home with muscles screaming in pain and sweat trickling down your temples.  You hadn't known all too well what you were getting yourself into when you said that you wanted to dance.  A night out with your friends hadn't reflected what it really was like to indulge in the world of dancing, and you were realizing it all now. There was never a shortcut to reach the best results, the only way was through blood sweat and tears, as cheesy as that sounded.

You were watching yourself intently in the mirror as you moved to the music. Baekhyun had shown you a couple of moves for you to imitate, and when he had executed them they had looked extremely smooth and easy- but it was definitely not the same thing when you were trying to recreate them with your own body. Your dance teacher didn't seem satisfied with how you were doing either, but instead of nagging he moved from his spot by the wall and stood right behind you. The gap between your back and his chest was so extremely minimal that you could physically feel it. You felt yourself tensing up when Baekhyun's warm breath landed on the exposed skin of your shoulder.

"You are extremely stiff," He murmured lowly while placing his hands on your shoulders and shivers thundered down your spine. "Relax," he continued to gently dig his fingers into your skin, pressing on to relieve the tension in your muscles.

"I'm sorry," You whispered, "It's hard to go all out with your eyes on me all the time," It was true, it couldn't completely excuse your nonexistent skills but Baekhyun's intense stare was the main reason for your shying away from giving your all.  You were surprised when he didn't tease you because of what you said, but the more you thought about it, the more sense it made. Baekhyun was a dance teacher, he probably knew better than to make his students feel insecure with his snickers.

"I understand, then inhale deeply," He instructed, his voice just a soft hum over the loud music from the speakers. "And close your eyes." When you did as told, you found yourself breathing out in relief when his hands had started massaging your shoulders, eventually relaxing your whole body. It didn't take long before Baekhyun's hands had started trailing lower until they found the curve of your waist. With teeth drilling into your lip, you fought the urge to push them away and let him do his thing. You kept your eyes closed and tried to concentrate on the music rather than on the foreign feeling of Baekhyun's touch. It had nearly been two weeks and you still could not help but squirm away whenever he'd put his hands on you. You could tell that it was extremely for him that was going to be your partner, but he was keeping it in every time without complaints. Gently, he guided your hips to sway along with the rhythm.

Your eyes fluttered open at the noise of Baekhyun's defeated sigh and the loss of his touch. A wave of relief washed over you when he finally let go of you, for some reason, you would feel so overwhelmingly nervous when close to him and it made it hard for you to function properly. There was something about him that made your thoughts swirl, something that continuously pulled at the strings of your heart and you were not sure whether you wanted to acknowledge what it was. You were afraid to lose yourself. Indeed, Baekhyun was like the sweetest sex on the beach, where the sweet flavor would coat your tongue but its strong alcohol hit you hard without your conscious.

You turned around to meet his gaze. "You're still very tensed in your movements," He stated, making you blush when his eyes raked your figure one last time, "We'll stop here for today." You were taken aback by the fact that he was cutting short on the lesson by a couple of hours, but when you saw the growing smirk on his lips, you knew he was up to something.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You eyed him weirdly which only caused him to chuckle, a sound that would often tickle your heart like the softest feather.

"Tomorrow bring your swimwear because we're going to the beach."

☾☾☾

The sand was scorching hot underneath your feet so you scurried to the shore as quickly as you could, only to let out a relieved sigh at the refreshing water washing the burning sensation away. Palm trees reached the immense blue sky and rustled by the wind, although the sun was warming the city over thirty degrees, the sea served its embracing and a little salty breeze. Soon enough, Baekhyun who had been taking his time reached your side.

"Alright, let's get to it right away." He announced without wasting a single second, arms crossing his stomach to grab the hem of his shirt that as usual, flaunted his toned chest but left some space for imagination as well. Your hands went to do the same but eventually slowed down in their movements when your eyes pulled themselves to Baekhyun's undressing figure. Lips drilling into your lips, the logical part of you was doing everything to stop staring, but the curiosity was so unbearable. As soon as the v-lines disappearing underneath the waistband of his trunks came into your view you snapped your gaze away and nervously fumbled with the buttons of your dress. Oh god, oh God, oh God- just how were you going to function when he looked like that?  

"I know that you were staring, kitten." As if it hadn't been enough, Baekhyun had felt your gaze and was not going to miss the chance to get under your skin.

"I was not!" You lied although it would be futile, Baekhyun was eye-candy, and he very aware of it too.  With the unusual hairstyle that made sense only him; mullet gracing the nape of his neck and red streaks melting into his black locks. With his green eyes that underneath the glowing day-star shone like glittering emeralds, not to mention the smile of his that could within seconds melt your whole being, warmer than summer itself. And his skin? Its color reminded you of sweet caramel and its smooth surface made you want to run your fingertips along with it. God was surely very biased when he created this human. How was he so unfairly beautiful? How could you not stare?

Throwing your dress over your shoulders and into your bag, you hurried to where Baekhyun had already entered the waters. The hairs on your body stood up at the contact with the cold water, but you loved that feeling, it was shooting against your heated skin.

"So," You stole a glance at Baekhyun from underneath your lashes, still a bit too conscious of him to look at him. "Why the beach?" You asked and brought your hands behind your back to try and seem a little less tense. Before you knew it, Baekhyun was already standing in front of you with his gorgeous self, not giving you any choice but to trail your eyes up his muscled stomach, continuing to his throat and finally his face that was currently extremely glossy because of the sunscreen he was wearing.

"We are going to," Baekhyun walked around your figure, standing right behind you where he took ahold of your hands to break their hold of each other. "release the tension in those pretty hips of yours,"

"Hey!" You scolded although your cheeks were already set on fire. But as always, he would only laugh heartedly, content with your reaction to his teasing. This time though, since he was behind you, you did not get to see the way his eyes twinkled with endearment.

"Close your eyes now," And just like that, he was back to his serious self. Closing your eyes, you inhaled the sea scented breeze to calm down your heart that had gone frantic upon Baekhyun's hands gripping your hips gently. "Do you feel the waves?" he murmured softly and you only nodded. "Dancing is a sign of freedom, you know? Just like the waves, you're allowed to have your own rhythm, your own color, when dancing, you are allowed to be exactly who you want to be," Baekhyun's words were like the softest caresses on your wounded heart.

"Now follow the waves, and sway gently," his voice at that moment was the most mellow thing that had ever kissed your ears. "Left and right," He hummed repeatedly. You felt yourself move along the guidance of his hands on your hips, gently following the rhythm of the sea. This was it, you were doing it and without messing it up!

The heart was swelling within your chest and you couldn't help but proceed to close the gap and press your back to Baekhyun's heaving chest. His grip on you somewhat tightened when you did, and his chin landed to rest on the curve of your shoulder.

"Baekhyun," You smiled happily, "I think I got a hold of it now- oh my God," You couldn't contain your excitement as you exclaimed the words while never interrupting your swaying motion along with Baekhyun's. Tickling butterfly wings spread in your belly when you felt him smile against your shoulder, the coldness of his lip ring sent shivers down your spine while his breaths fanned your skin.

"Then we'll wrap up here and I'll treat you on a well-deserved helado."  

That was how you found yourself standing in line with Baekhyun to get some ice cream. Soon enough, the girl behind the counter was handing you your cone with strawberry flavored ice cream.  You watched as Baekhyun handed her the money, not leaving without sending her a sweet smile, a wink, and a subtle gracias. The girl blushed madly but it was evident how the simple gestures had made her happy.

"Are you a player, or what?" You grumbled, not being able to hide your annoyment. Truthfully, you knew that the fingers clenching your heart were nothing less than jealousy, but you were not going to admit it. The answer provided was though, not what you had expected.

"No not really," He shrugged his shoulders, "I just like to make girls feel pretty, nothing wrong with that, right?"

"Well, am I not pretty too?" You demanded- gasping out loud when you realized that you had spoken your thoughts without reasoning. The heat was clouding in front of your face, and it wasn't any better when Baekhyun chortled so prettily like he always did before standing right in front of you with an adoring smile that could've stolen your heart on the spot. Your stomach flipped when his fingers gently reached out to curl some stray strands of your hair behind your ear.

"You're beautiful, darling." He spoke ever so sweetly as if honey was dripping off his lips and you had to put the ice cream against your mouth to hide the blossoming smile that could've given you away. A playful snicker played on his face as he bent down to your level and placed his lips at the opposite side of your cone, tasting the sweet flavor.

"Strawberry's my favorite," Baekhyun justified his actions with a glint of mischievousness enlightening his pretty orbs.

In this hot summer, there were many things that could warm you up. But none of it could nearly come to compare to Baekhyun's twinkling smile when he told you that you were beautiful.

☾☾☾

Three weeks in, and the fact that you and your parents hadn't had a proper conversation after that fight lingered in the back of your head, no matter how much you tried to suppress it.

The distant noise of the fan blurred into the loud music vibrating from the speakers and the mirrored room reflected your every move as you danced. In the second week of training had been so much progress, to the point where you and Baekhyun could sweep across the dance floor without you stepping on his feet. You had learned so many dance moves to execute with Baekhyun that you were astonished by yourself. It was not easy, being lifted up in the air, to slide underneath his legs, or to simply spin back into his hold. It required so much physical strength from both parties- and well, in this case, you were the only one in the need of training. As for the sensuality, Baekhyun knew you were a bit uncomfortable with it still, so he was taking things slow. The fusion of Latin dances that was dirty dancing involved a great quantity of physical contact that you had never experienced before- and to be suddenly feeling hands all over you was a hard pill to swallow. Difficulties aside, the two of you had started working on the choreography and as much as you wanted to shy away, you were ecstatic to have come this far.

Your eyes locked themselves on your figure in the mirror as you danced alone in the room, practicing on a few solo dance moves that Baekhyun had taught you. Those were also extremely important when dancing with a partner, to be able to move your own- to shine on your own even if for a few seconds before returning to the male. Ever since the happenings at the beach, you had been able to feel so much more comfortable in your skin, in the idea of giving your body away to the music and its waves. Baekhyun's words had helped you appreciate the music more- so extremely so, that whenever you were dancing was when you felt the freest, the most beautiful you'd ever been.

Arms gracefully waving and hips swaying smoothly, you looked absolutely gorgeous when pumping your chest, when your feet executed the Latin dance moves perfectly.  If it wasn't for your concentration going completely to your reflection, you would have noticed how Baekhyun had been leaning against the door frame, following your every movement as if you were the most intriguing movie he'd ever seen. His teeth bit onto his lip upon watching as if trying to contain himself.

Indeed you were, the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

☾☾☾

Heavy breaths were parting your lips and all you really needed to feel was something cold and refreshing against your sweating back. Although the fan was at its maximum, it was not enough to soothe the hotness of the summer day fused with hours of intense practice. With a huge sigh, you let your body slump down onto the cold floor, feeling relief wash over you at the contrast of temperature. Baekhyun looked at you with a stunned expression but not long after, he did just the same and laid down next to you. His chest was heaving up and down in a quick manner as he sought to catch his breath, his locks slightly wet of perspiration fell messily down his head, giving you a full view of his shiny forehead.

Outside, the cicadas were singing and the people had started retreating indoors during the warmest time of the day. You rolled onto your side, placing your arm underneath your head for support and glanced at the boy next to you. Baekhyun's eyes were closed and hadn't you known better, you would've through he was sleeping, though you were aware of the fact that he was simply relaxing. You couldn't help but take advantage of the situation to shamelessly observe him. The thin eyelashes that kissed his slightly flushed cheeks glittered into the afternoon sun, its orange shade painting Baekhyun's tan skin, rendering it golden. Oh, how was he so ethereal? You could just not wrap your head around it, at times like these you would find your heart blossoming within your chest- your breath hitching because it felt as if an angel was laying right beside you. Perhaps he really was one, for when he danced he seemed as light as a feather, when he danced you could feel the passion radiating from his whole being. It was like he found life in the action of moving to the music.

"Baekhyun?" You found yourself whispering lowly, just in case he had been actually sleeping. The said male turned his head in your direction and quirked an eye open, a questioning hum left his parted lips that were as always, adorned by a thin and golden lip ring.

"If I may ask, did you have any motives behind joining this contest?" You had been extremely curious about this since the very beginning and you hoped that Baekhyun would trust you enough to answer this time. To your dismay silence was all you got back, your words lingered like thick tension in the air. When you started to think he wouldn't answer was when Baekhyun parted his lips to speak, taking you by surprise.

"This studio has belonged to my family for a very long time, in fact, my parents used to teach people of all ages to dance. I used to teach too." The playfulness that he would often hold in his demeanors was now nowhere to be seen. Baekhyun spoke every so softly, his voice fragile and solemn as if the tiniest shards of memory from the past would cut his heart open again.

"Though late in my parents' career, things started going south and they could no longer keep on teaching. Back then, I was young and still burned with such passion," He recalled while staring at the ceiling, "I did not fully understand the weight I put on my shoulders when I said I'd take care of this studio. I did not want them to sell it, too many of my memories linger in here- I felt as if I would be ripping a piece of my memories and throwing it away if I just let them give it away." All you could do was listen to his sorrowful voice, silently yearning to be the one who could soothe his grief.

"By joining, and hopefully winning the dancing contest, I would've used the price to revive this dance studio and open it again. I am barely keeping it with the paycheck that I have now, I am constantly jumping from a part-time to the other."

"I think you still have so much of that passion, Baekhyun." You said meaningfully, not being able to help it, you gave in to the urge to reach out for his face. He had been laying so close to you, enough for you to feel the scent of his faded cologne mixed with sweat, something that dazed you greatly. Baekhyun leaned into the caress of your soft fingertips, letting out a soft sigh that thunders run down your body. You wanted to scream at the way he was making you feel, wines were growing within your chest- flowers were blooming and their roots carved his sweet name into your heart.

As the pad of his thumb softly traced the corner of his mouth, you watched as Baekhyun bit down on his lip as if holding himself from taking your gentle fingers in with his lips.

"How about you?" He eventually asked, and you found yourself letting everything you had been holding in for yourself out to Baekhyun, your heart spread before him like an open book for him to read. At that moment you realized that you could trust him. You trusted Baekhyun. Baekhyun who listened to everything you had to say, who never removed his tender gaze from yours. Baekhyun who drank up every emotion seeping from your voice.

That afternoon, you were provided with a pair of words that had kept you from sleeping. Words that you had never thoughts about- but now could not stop recalling.

"It's so brave of you to follow your dream, and I'll help you for as long as you'll need me- but, please, don't give up one good relationship with your parents, before you know it, they'll be gone and all you'll have is regret. "

☾☾☾

The competition was nearing within the blink of an eye, it was still hard to grasp as it only felt like yesterday, the day you had sneaked out to a dance club with your friends. You could not believe it, one time should have been enough, really. But there you were again, in the middle of the night tiptoeing with your heels hanging from your fingertips. Your parents were asleep since hours ago and part of you felt guilty for doing this again. Ever since Baekhyun had said those things, you had started speaking with your parents more genuinely in the hopes of digging up what you had lost during that massive fight. Truly, they had been happy to make peace with you again, especially your mother who had felt responsible for your behavior. Though, you were still doing these things behind their backs- meeting Baekhyun and dancing, which had been something they had banned you from doing since the very start.

It was with a heavy heart that you exited through the mansion's backdoor, wore your heels, and as quickly as possible ran to where Baekhyun was going to wait for you in his car.  

The nightclub was as expected, as crowded as it could possibly be, which made you wonder whether you and Baekhyun were going to make it to the dance floor without losing each other. In the beginning, you had been rather hesitant when Baekhyun had suggested that you'd go together. He had explained how it was a great place to practice dirty dancing since there were many people dancing at the same time and that was sort of how the competition was going to look like too, even if less crowded. Eventually, you had agreed, telling yourself that you could use it as an opportunity to work on the slight stage fright you had. But truly, the real motive was that Baekhyun was extremely skilled at convincing people, a real charmer that is.

A live band was performing famous Latin songs to which no one missed a single beat of, passionately, they were singing along to every line. Your eyes scanned the crowd, only to see countless couples dancing ever so skillfully- resembling what Baekhyun had looked like the very first time you saw him. A wave of insecurity hit you without warning and you started wondering whether you'll ever look like that when dancing too. Was your mediocre self an embarrassment to Baekhyun who was well known everywhere? You could only wonder while the said male grabbed your hand in his and brought it above of your head, to which you took the cue and spun around a couple of times before retreating to press against his chest. Sweat trickled down your temples and you rolled your body along Baekhyun's, following his every motion, matching it with your own. His hands that had started traveling along your body sent a heatwave down your vertebrae. Fingers ghosted their way up legs- resting on your hip while the other sought to trail the line starting from between your collarbones, down to the space between your breasts. Before Baekhyun could even do so, you had already pushed his hands away.

You had no idea what had gotten into you when you had done that, it had been a good moment to try and finally get used to the fundamental part of what you wanted to do, and yet again, an inexplicable sensation that urged you to shy away got the best of you. It was not giving Baekhyun a chance to even circle his arms around your waist, for you had already sent them away. This had not been the first time you'd done that, that you couldn't take his touch had occurred on many occasions during practice. Fear gathered in your chest when you saw Baekhyun's expression darken and that was when you realized that he was only going to take that much before exploding.

Baekhyun's fingers harshly wrapped around your wrist as he dragged you away from the dance floor to a corner of the nightclub where the two of you could speak with a bit more tranquility. The excitement that had manifested in his orbs at the beginning of the night was completely gone, now replaced with something that you couldn't quite pinpoint. You had never imagined that you'd ever see him as raging as he was now, or hence- that you'd ever be the reason for his current dark expression. The heart drummed furiously against your chest while it echoed loudly in your ears, blurring the loud music out completely.

"Why do you push me away all the time?" He finally spoke, words gritting through his teeth, "Are we playing around or what? How do you think of doing the damn competition if you keep on doing that!?" Playing around? He thought you were playing around? You wanted to laugh, though the growing lump in your throat stopped you from doing so. You had explained this to him before- and yet- why would he say that to you? It was still so foreign to you and you were truly trying your hardest.

"I'm sorry, I can't fucking help it okay!?" You shouted, "I am trying!" Small tears were surging at the edge of your eyes, turning Baekhyun's figure blurry in front of you.

"Well, you're not trying hard enough!"He threw his hands in the air, every inch of his being screamed frustration and anger. "I feel like a damn idiot whenever you do that," Baekhyun had never once complained at you, he had respected your limits and trusted you when you said you were working on it, but even his patience had a boundary, and at this moment it was as if the glass had overflowed.

"Every time we make progress it's like we fall back to step one because you're being like that! If you are so uncomfortable with me, why are you making me do this? You're wasting both of our times." Although his chest was heaving heavily for more oxygen, he kept going and let out every frustration, every doubt that he had kept to himself until now.

"If you really want to do this competition, you should know that one of the biggest components for dancing is trust toward your partner, but if you can't bring yourself to trust me, then what the hell is the point?" Baekhyun's words were a hard pill to swallow, but deep down you knew that he was nothing but right. He had every right to react like this- after so many days of hard training, after trusting you and telling you the wounds of his heart, and yet, you still could not trust him?

"I'm sorry-" You breathed out, reaching out for his soft hands, "let's just do it again, please." You attempted through your shaking voice, but nothing could waver Baekhyun's anger as he yanked his hands out of your hold, leaving you completely shaken.

"No, I'm done." He shook his head with disbelief, "Come back when you are not afraid." You could not help but frown. Afraid? Was that really it? Baekhyun might've been right when he said that you were fearing,  but the prideful part of you refused to admit it. You kept telling yourself that it was just his own perception of you- he was wrong. You had gone this far, you had broken the rules to come to this point, the last thing you were was scared.

"I am not!" You denied furiously.

"Yes you are," He said, not leaving his ground. " just admit it. You've might come all the way to this point, but deep down you're still afraid of change, of the new things that are about to come."

"Tell me, do you really want this dream of yours? Or maybe you are too scared?" The dancer scoffed, not glancing twice at you before turning around and leaving you with hot tears streaming down your cheeks.

☾☾☾

"You look stunning, sweetheart." Said your mother sweetly when you stepped out of your room. Your body was hugged by a beautiful chiffon midi dress and your face adorned by a light makeup look that enhanced your features in the most natural of ways. A shy smile displayed on your lips at the compliment, it had been a while since you last wore such an elegant dress. The floral pattern glittered mildly and you felt yourself shining underneath your mother's adoring gaze. She had given it to you as a gift,  telling you that today was a special occasion and that you just had to wear it.

Seven in the evening and the sun was painting the immense sky in its delicate purple and pink colors as it hid behind the horizon. Streaks of orange melted into the clouds and the stars were waiting for their turn to show up. As the car pulled up by the restaurant, you recalled it to be the same location as where was going to take place. In fact, you were stunned to see the immense dance floor in the middle of the restaurant, the round tables surrounding it. In the background was a live band playing calm jazz music that quickly blurred out with your conversations.

All you had known when preparing for this dinner was that it was going to be extremely important for your parents' business career. Hopefully, they were going to seal the deal with this other company and become partners once and for all. Obviously, you were going to act your best and help them make the best impression achievable. You and your family had already been seated by the table when the other couple came, your parents were ecstatic to finally meet them and stood immediately up from their chairs to welcome them warmly. Bright and pleasant people, they were and the way they treated you with such familiarity caressed relief over your once anxious heart. Just like your parents, they seemed to be in their fifties. To your surprise, they also had an only child, their son whose name was Jongin.

The male had impeccable manners when he first presented himself, gracing you with his sparkling smile and a light kiss to your knuckles. Truthfully, if it hadn't been for a certain person refusing to leave your thoughts, you would've felt more motivated to get to know the gorgeous boy sitting next to you at the round table. Ever since your fight with Baekhyun at the nightclub, you hadn't found it in yourself to show yourself in front of him. There were many reasons, and the main one was that you were, ironically enough, afraid. Perhaps he had been right all along. You were scared, so scared that it was hindering you from taking it a step further. You had been able to follow your dream until now because you knew that your mother and father had no idea of what you were doing behind their backs. But dancing on that floor was going to expose yourself to everyone, letting everyone know that you had completely given yourself to dancing and its world. As immature as it might've sounded, the past few weeks, the idea of participating to that competition had still felt like a distant dream, something that you might've not to be able to reach after all. Somehow, you had grown used to dream, you were okay with imagining it without it coming true. But before you knew it, it had become nothing less than reality and it was stealing your breath.

Why hadn't anyone told you that chasing a dream would be so scary?

No, you were expecting too much. Every new reality was bound to seem intimidating at first, but the fear was nothing impossible to overcome.

Perhaps, you were a simple coward after all. Why were you now, in your thoughts comparing yourself and envying every successful person you knew? What was there to envy, when you had been the only one limiting yourself, hindering yourself from reaching your dream?

"What do you think honey?" Your mother's sugarcoated voice broke the train of your thoughts and you cursed yourself for not paying attention to the ongoing conversation. The beginning of the dinner had consisted of the elders talking about business, to which you and Jongin had absolutely no clue how to fit yourselves in the conversation. You had shared a couple of words with the male but had eventually drowned in your own thoughts.

"I am sorry mother, could you repeat yourself?" You smiled hesitantly, and the two ladies who seemed to have bonded rather quickly snickered excitedly.

"Me and Mrs. Kim here were just thinking that it would be absolutely lovely if you and Jongin got to know each other! Don't you think?" Currently, there was seastorm going on in your chest. The heart was crashing violently against your ribs as you watched your mother's eyes form into crescents. Her words might've seemed completely harmless to anyone else, but you knew better than to believe her endearing smile.

"I'd love to get to know your daughter, ma'am." Jongin joined the conversation, speaking honey-coated words that did nothing but please the two ladies.

"I am sure you and Jongin will find so much in common!" Mrs. Smith exclaimed enthusiastically, "Who knows, something lovely might bloom." You were not sure if your expression was still the smile you had plastered on your face or if it had morphed into a wince, but you were trying to seem as eager as the happy male next to you. Though, a lump was forming in your throat, making it hard for you to breathe.

"Mother, may I speak with you for a while?" Your voice felt like thick syrup as you uttered, by now, your chest was heaving anxiously for more air.

"What is it, honey?" She said worriedly once the two of you had reached one of the restaurant's balconies, for you had absolutely needed the sharp inhale of fresh air that you had taken as soon as you had stepped outside.

"What was that all about, mother?" Regardless of your attempts to stay collected you were instantly betrayed by your shaking voice.

"What do you mean? Is everything alright?" Worry displayed on her face as she took in your upset figure. How your fist had been trembling with anger, how the blood had flushed your pale cheeks. You knew she was pretending to be clueless.

"Mother! Stop beating around the bush, are you arranging something between me and Jongin?! Please, tell me you are not... I beg of you." The teeth drilling into your lip had started drawing blood and you winced at the pain, but what broke you the most was your mother's silence.

"Are you serious?" You gasped, "Mother, you had promised to never involve me in arranged relationships! I am not doing this, never!" It was gradually becoming harder to keep the volume of your voice low, the burning tears had been blearing your view and you wanted nothing more than to let out your frustrations and cause a scene.

"Sweetheart..." She sighed defeatedly, "Try to understand, the company-"

"The company?!" You were only going to take so much before reaching your limit. Oh, how could you have hesitated to dance because of your parents when they had been intending to such things to you? Was their company what they valued over their daughter? Because if that was the case, you were not going to stay a second longer to listen to her excuses. You felt betrayed, broken, and lost. You might've hurt their feelings by choosing a different path, but they had repeatedly tried to strip you off of your freedom. This was not going to occur a second time.

"I am leaving!" The dinner, their partners, and the company could go to hell, for all you cared. You could just not force yourself to be in there another second. Your mother's voice calling after you was echoing behind you, but not once did you stop to hear her out.

The moon was a whole in the middle of the pit black sky while the smaller stars danced all around it. Even during the night, Havana was pretty much alive. Pubs and nightclubs were welcoming tons of people who were in for a good dance and a refreshing drink on this hot summer night. Though this time, you gave none of that any consideration- all you wanted to do was see him as soon as possible. Your feet moved quickly down the street as you held in the sensation threatening to burst into loud cries. On a night like this, what was the possibility that Baekhyun wouldn't be out dancing with talented girls? The thought made cold fingers dig into your heart and you could only hope to find him where you were desperately trying to reach.

As you neared Baekhyun's dance studio, so many emotions were taking place inside of you that you didn't know how you could handle them all at once. The overpowering anger and the sorrow bringing tears to your eyes, the frustration- the fear. You found yourself yearning after his playful smile, his soft fingertips tracing the surface of your skin that could reassure you with their warmth. If he was not in there- if you wouldn't be able to tell him that he had been right all along, that you were scared, so immensely scared- you were afraid you were going drown in your own sorrow.

A burning sensation was crawling inside of your limbs as you ran the last distance, hands shakingly grabbing the handles of the glass doors and your heart flipped in your chest when it opened easily. Your loud breaths mixed with the drumming heartbeat echoing in your ears was all you could hear until his voice shattered the panicked state you were in.

"Who's there?!" A breathless Baekhyun entered the reception and your gaze searched desperately for his. His features that had been twisted into a frown softened upon seeing you in that state. Your name rolled questioningly from his tongue. "Hey," Baekhyun beckoned worriedly, "What's wrong?" The simple question had been enough for you to finally burst into loud sobs. It had been years since you'd last cried like that. Cries that closed up your throat, making it hard for you to breathe, those cries that clenched your chest as if chains tightening around your flesh.

Everything was wrong, just nothing was going in the right direction.

Baekhyun embraced you tightly when you had rushed towards him and immediately, your erratic heart was finding tranquility in his sweet scent that you inhaled. His hand was oh so tenderly brushing through your hair while the other brought you closer to his soft chest. "Tell me what is wrong, hm?" Baekhyun whispered in your ear, afraid to break you any further if he'd speak any louder. Your low hiccups brought him to tighten the hold around you while his head buried deeper into your neck. "Please, baby, tell me who did this to you?"

It had taken a few minutes for you to catch your breath, but eventually, every happening had spilled from your lips and the male had listened intently to every word you had said. Talking to Baekhyun was for some reason so extremely easy, he wouldn't do anything specific, and yet just the fact that it was him embracing you made you feel as if your little wounded heart would forever be safe in his gentle hands. You hadn't known what you had expected Baekhyun to say once you were done speaking your feelings, but as something that was so him, he took you by surprise. Wordlessly, he had threaded his fingers through yours and led you away from the reception, entering the all too familiar practice room. The lights were turned off and you could only look at him confusedly.

"When I am feeling down, there is nothing better than dancing to lift up my mood." Because of the dark, you could not see his face too well, but his green eyes remained as bright underneath the glittering moonlight shining through the windows. Normally, you would've hesitated the slightest when Baekhyun reached an inviting hand towards you, but this time, without a single doubt you placed yours in his.

' When your chest met his, you felt as if brought to a different dimension, where all that mattered were your matching heartbeats melting into one melody.

Your connected hands were brought into the air, spinning you around before brining your back against him abruptly. You were never going to back away ever again. This time, you let yourself love the fireworks erupting in your chest when Baekhyun's tender fingertips traveled along your ribcage. You responded to every grind of his that graced your back. You let yourself shiver eagerly when you leaned your head on his shoulder and his nose slowly trailed down your neck, where his moist bottom lip stuck to your skin, so eager to kiss it. There was no music playing but regardless of that, you were moving along the dance floor as if it was. All you could really focus on was Baekhyun's beautiful palms caressing every inch of your body whenever he'd lift your leg to rest it on his hip, whenever he'd guide your hips into swift motions and your hands would rest on his broad shoulders.

There was no music you could give yourself away to, but you did not mind. The beat inside of your chest had already dedicated itself to one and only person.

And all you wanted to do was to give yourself to Baekhyun and his comforting embraces.

So when you were tilted towards the floor while held by his strong arm, you let his fingers tickle your skin. You let Baekhyun feel your throbbing heart when his hand palmed your breast, only to a second later have him trace all the way down to your thigh. Your hands were still resting on his shoulders when he lowered himself in front of you and despite the fabric of your dress, Baekhyun's fingertips still managed to leave a trail of fire tingling down your body. His palm fisted an ounce of your dress as he stood back up, flicking his wrist, he spun you around.

That night you had let Baekhyun hold you the way you'd always pushed him away from doing. You had let him dance with you like the competition was taking place at that very moment. Now, all you could do was ask yourself why you had been so afraid of it when Baekhyun had been so thoughtful, so careful and delicate when holding you. There had been nothing to be afraid of, and now you felt extremely silly for having felt the way you did.

You had loved every single second of warmth when basking in his arms, when washed by the dazing freshness of his musky scent. What you had been doing all this while was falling, and falling, but Baekhyun had already caught you. So, it felt alright.

☾☾☾

Petrified was probably the best word to describe what you had felt when your father had announced another dinner date to celebrate the successful partnership, at the very restaurant you had visited last week. You were scared and nervous, to the point of having your stomach churn, but there was no going back. You did not want to act like a coward anymore, you were done running away from your own dream.

Regardless of the anxiety settling in your chest, you dressed in the most beautiful dress you owned, one that would flaunt your beautiful shoulders and shimmer underneath the spotlights and flutter around your milky legs with every step you'd take. The soft pink pressed glitter on your eyelids rendered your orbs sparkling with life while on your cheeks caressed a delicate rouge. You were aware of how beautiful you were looking specifically for that night. In fact, Jongin who had met you at the entrance of the restaurant had not been able to take his eyes off you.

The establishment was even more crowded on this day than it had been last time, but it was completely understandable. The dancing competition taking place was a big deal and people from every part of Havana had come to watch it. Everything seemed completely ordinary at your table, your parents were having an animated conversation with their business partners and Jongin was listening to them with intrigue. Though they had no clue of the real motives behind you excusing yourself to the restroom. As soon as you had been out of their view, you rushed to the changing rooms behind the stage. Dancers were flooding the area, looking both excited and nervous as they paced left and right. Some were fixing their hairstyles while others warmed up before the competition. Frantically, you searched for Baekhyun in the mass of people- barely finding him, but you could've recognized those scarlet streaks anywhere, truly. Without wasting any more time, you hurried to where he was standing. His hair was brushed back with strokes of gel and you were surprised to see that his button-up had only three buttons popped open, just so that he could look a bit more proper.

"Baekhyun," You called breathlessly. The male turned around looking distressed, but upon viewing you it soon morphed into astonishment until the ring caging his lower lip quirked as he beamed adoringly down at you.

"Tan hermosa," Baekhyun susurrated sultrily, his words so sweet and his eyes completely bewitched by your gorgeous self. It seemed as if for once, the tables had turned and now you were the strong magnet to which his orbs couldn't pull away from. The compliment made heat gather on your cheeks, still, you returned the favor, "You don't look so bad yourself, sir." A chuckle left your lips when he playfully bowed forty-five degrees.

A voice resounded from the speakers on the ceiling and announced the time remaining until the contest would begin. Ten minutes to go and the jelly-like sensation was starting to hug your legs. Just waiting aimlessly felt way too nervewracking for you, so you opted to sit in front of one of the many vanities, picking up the lipgloss you had brought with you from home. Baekhyun followed you like a lost puppy and stood behind your sitting figure, gawking into the mirror to see what you were doing. You twisted the cap and the make up product opened with a satisfying pop. The male seemed intrigued by your actions as you slowly swiped the gloss across the plumpness of your lips and you saw him lowering down to your level in the reflection. Baekhyun's eyes fluttered close for a second as he ran his nose down your neck, inhaling your scent before opening them again and directing his gaze on your glossed lips.

"Can I have some?" He murmured huskily against your skin and shooting stars flew down your spine, you had to physically fight the urge to bite your lip at his flirtatious antics. A cute little pout made its way in his face when you shook your head, his confident demeanor crumbled within seconds.

"The competition will be starting in five minutes, may the couples head towards the stage!" The same voice from a while ago spoke and the moment Baekhyun's hand found yours, everything melted into a blur. The few minutes you waited before the stage felt as if they hadn't even existed and suddenly, you were standing in the middle of the stage with ten other couples surrounding you. Baekhyun's right hand held onto yours while the other pressed you to him by the small of your back. The spotlights flashed on and the music started echoing against the wall, swiftly, you and Baekhyun caught its beat as if it was your own heart pulsating.

Baekhyun and you had been the youngest couple to dance that night, and in addition, the one dancing the most sensually. It was hard to miss the way Baekhyun spun you around by flicking the hem of your dress, how his hands had so rawly groped your bum, or traced your chest as if painting on air. You separated, flashing a few solo moves; pumping your chest and extending your leg, outlining it with graceful fingers. Baekhyun was grooving with a proud smirk on his face, loving the way you had learned to become one with the music. His fingers clasped gently around your chin and induced you to step closer. Arms circling your waist, your tilted body drew a half moon before returning to press against your partner, bodies rolling against one another.

Baekhyun was standing right behind you when the music had halted for a few seconds. His face placed so extremely close to yours that you were swallowing every breath he heaved. His mouth was too eager and Baekhyun had not been able to contain himself any longer from capturing your lips in his. Gladly, you responded to his kiss and barely got to feel his confident tongue tasting your lipgloss before the music continued and you parted, continuing with your dance.

All the contestants were extremely talented, though no one had stood out as you and Baekhyun had to the judges. The youthful passion you were spreading was stealing every spotlight. It was like you and he owned the stage, it was your performance and the others subdued to the background.

The song came eventually to an end and the restaurant was filled with applause and hollers. Adrenaline was still fresh and flowing through your veins and you found yourself jumping into Baekhyun's arms right then, feeling the overflowing happiness flowering in your whole being. The corners of your mouth were aching due to the bright smile reaching your ears. You had finally done it, and you had been perfect. Baekhyun buried his face in your shoulder, and you could feel on the curve of your arm that he was no different from you with the bright grin splitting his features.

"You were amazing," He spoke close to your ear, voice still breathless. The judges had been quick with announcing the couples reaching the finals. At that point, both of you were just extremely joyful to have participated, even if you wouldn't come further, you were happy to have done it together.

You thought you had misheard the speakers when Baekhyun's and your name articulated, earning a round of praising applauses. The lad was looking at you with just as much shock, silently asking you with his eyes if you had just heard what he had.

"Oh my God," You gasped, throwing your arms once more around his neck, hugging him close. "This is great, Baekhyun. I'll train harder for the finals and we'll win and you'll be able to open the dance school again and-"

"Wow, wow, slow down, kitten." Baekhyun's laugh vibrated against your chest, his green orbs had become sparkling crescents. "It's lovely that you're so eager, but don't speak too soon." It was true that maybe you had gotten a little too excited, the competition was not over. But you did not regret saying those words at all, the delight on Baekhyun's face was so contagious, so beautiful that you'd say it a thousand times again if it meant having him laugh like that. The latter leaned closer to your ear, eyes looking at something, or rather someone afar.

"Do you know those people? They have been staring for a while," Baekhyun whispered pointedly and you could already guess what was going on. Indeed, you had been nothing but right when locking gazes with your mother and father who wore unreadable expressions on their faces. It was like they couldn't quite wrap their heads around what they had just seen, wether they were astounded or angered. You expected at least a good handful of scolding when you walked to them with Baekhyun trailing behind you, but was to be surprised when your mother failed to hide the hint of amusement in her emotionally void voice.

"I did not know you could move like that." She stated, eyes searching for yours, "I do not know what to say...That was not all too grave." The last part had been muttered underneath her breath but to her dismay, you caught on it and couldn't help the slightly teasing smile directed to her.

"You would've known sooner if you would have let me, mother." There was no hostility as you spoke, the topic was not supposed to discuss any further, and she understood that. Her gaze moved from you to Baekhyun who had been following your interactions until now.

"And who might this handsome lad be?" Your mother then quirked an eyebrow, scanning his figure from head to toe as if he was a candidate of some sort. Baekhyun, as smooth as he was, reacted quickly with a charming smile, bowing down to hold her hand and kiss her knuckles, making a fluttered blush appear. Not forgetting about the other parent, Baekhyun greeted your father as well.

"This is Baekhyun, my dance partner and...friend." You established and your mother nodded but raised a skeptical eyebrow, she had seen the kiss you had shared on the dance floor but decided not to comment on it. Your father on the other hand did not look the least happy about the man next to you, but he let it be, not wanting to take away the bright smile from your face.

With your arms leaning against the railing, you inhaled the crisp evening air that the balcony was offering. The purple sky reflected limpidly onto the sea in the distance,  It had been an incredibly long night and the events were still swirling messily in your head and as an aftermath of all that dancing, you were feeling a bit dizzy. Nonetheless, there was relieved smile gracing your face, because everything had gone well.

"I did not know that friends are supposed to know what your lips taste like." Baekhyun's husky whisper suddenly snapped you out of your thoughts, and you could only look at him shockingly. He was smirking teasingly at you and your cheeks that had without a doubt turned scarlet because of his statement and not anything else.  

"I-I," You stuttered and unable to answer properly, but Baekhyun paid no mind to that as he stood in front of you, putting your arms around his neck. Immediately, your fingers found their way through the long hair on his nape, earning a sweet hum where he had placed his lips underneath your ear while his thumbs were drawing gentle circles on your hipbones.

"I think we should change it to Boyfriend, what do you think? You chuckled heartedly.

"I think you are right."

☾☾☾☾☾☾

Big thanks to my little angel @byunfirstlady​ for making the prettiest moodboard for me! I love you hunie <333

First important disclaimer!! This oneshot was heavily inspired by the movie Dirty Dancing 2 Havana nights, so if you recognized some scenes or the whole one-shot, well now you know why.

I truly wish that this was not a complete mess and a failure, I am having a lot of issues with writing recently. But it is getting better since I managed to write this. As I write, I am constantly feeling as if it isn't good enough, as if it's just bad and that it'll feel too conscious about it if I post it because it's bad. Honestly, it's so damn ridiculous. I am trying to get through my thick skull that not every shot has to be so damn deep or perfect. I just feel that maybe I could've written something better with these 17k words- or simply expanded the story a bit? But the most important thing to me is that you like it, obviously. So if you do, I'll shut up about this ahah.

Also, I need to stop being that Karen!! So prideful and easily discouraged by seeing talented people out there. P, you can't be the best at everything, you can't expect so much of yourself. Stop. It. FFS.

I have finally finished writing this and I have no idea what's in this massive one shot!! Truly, I am not kidding when I say my head is dizzy from finishing this in the entire week. I want to fix the remaining errors but I can not bring myself to read through this shit once again, I do not have the strength to do that. I am sorry for the negativity in this message, I just felt like sharing the concerns I've been having for a long time now.

If you read everything until now, I deeply thank you and I hope this one-shot was to your liking. As always, I love you all so much and am truly so grateful for the people supporting me and asking if i am writing stuff because it does motivate me so much when you do! Please, do comment lots and tell me everything you think! I'd appreciate it so much. Until then, have a beautiful summer and follow your dreams! 🥰💖💖💖💖💌

#bbh-net #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun angst #baekhyun oneshot #baekhyun series #baekhyun imagine #exo baekhyun #byun baekhyun #exo imagine #exo oneshot #exo x reader #havana #dirty dancing #bbh

[skzsauce01]

In Fair Verona︱Chapter 1

Synopsis: Jisung knows he is the Romeo to your Juliet. He could wax poetry about you all throughout rehearsal and even a little after. Except Hwang Hyunjin is the one playing Romeo in the school play, not him. Jisung is just another tech crew member that you don’t know, but he’s determined to win your heart... by any means necessary. 

Warning: none... yet

Word Count: 1.6k

Pairing: fem!reader x Jisung; fem!reader x Hyunjin

updates every Wednesday and Sunday @ 11 PM PST︱chapter list

It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.

Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,

Who is already sick and pale with grief,

That thou, her maid, art more fair than she.

You really are the sun. With your easy smile and warm laugh, you radiate light everywhere you go. Even on the dark stage with no spotlight on you, you shine. Everyone is captivated by you and your aura, and he is no exception.

He can’t focus on the calls and conversations in his ear when you’re around. When the stage manager tells him to step back because he’s too far out on the stage, it barely registers. Another floor crew member has to yank him by the back of his shirt to drag him out of view. He apologizes and promises it won’t happen during the main shows, but he knows it’s a fragile vow.

As Romeo continues to recite his lines — in a manner so unconvincing, Jisung thinks he himself could do better — you pretend to admire the nonexistent stars in the nonexistent sky before choosing to settle your gaze on the lights hanging above the audience. You angle your head up, and he wonders if you will do the same when you kiss him. He can see the scene in his mind: your long lashes fanned out on your cheeks, your pink lips pursed together, your breath against his skin. He feels his heart racing as he clutches a hand to his chest in a vain attempt to slow his breathing. The floor below him sways, and he tries to shuffle his feet to steady himself, but he stumbles backwards into the black curtain that masks the wings of the stage. The curtain ripples, and someone in the comms chastises him for being careless. He apologizes and promises it won’t happen during the main shows, but he isn’t so sure.

The girl in charge of costumes seems to realize that he’s acting strange. She places a gentle hand on his shoulder and asks, “Are you okay? You seem off today.”

The heat from her palm seeps through his worn t-shirt, and he is acutely aware of how close she is. He wishes it were your hand instead. He shrugs it off, feeling uncomfortable from her foreign touch. “I’m fine, Ryujin,” he assures her. “Just stressed by school and tired from no sleep.”

She nods knowingly. “Yeah. And you’re moving around things a lot too. Must be tough.”

He doesn’t try to continue the conversation. When she finally takes the hint and leaves him be, he turns his undivided attention back to you. The spotlight on you is bright and blinding and a cheap imitation of luminosity compared to you. Even with it directly in your eyes, you look at the audience and say your line with ease. Then you sigh as if your heart was shattered into a million pieces, and he wants to do nothing more than run on stage and shove Romeo aside. Let him be your new Romeo and sing of your praises, let him wax poetry about your beauty, let him give you the happiness you deserve.

Romeo says two lines before being cut off by the director for not being adoring enough. A smug grin replaces the serene look on Jisung’s face as he hears the director criticizing Romeo’s lack of emotion. In the meantime, you lean against the balcony railing, resting your forearms and head there. The mic crackles as your hair brushes over it, and you mumble a “Sorry.” Your eyelids flutter, and you suppress a yawn. He reaches out a hand to stroke your hair before he remembers you are halfway across the stage and on a platform. He continues to extend his arm, pretending to stretch, and he slowly closes his fist around your form, pretending he can hold you.

The director decides to end rehearsals a little early, citing that it’s getting late and that everyone seems tired. She thanks everyone for their hard work and reminds the actors to meet in the green room for notes. You climb down the balcony set piece, picking up your long skirt as you go. Jisung retreats farther into the wings and makes sure to bump into you as you weave through the mess that are the props and stage pieces. Your mic is off, so he is the only who hears you swear.

“Sorry,” you quickly whisper. You step to the side to let him walk first.

“It’s okay. You can go,” he says.

“Thanks.”

After a moment’s hesitation and more directed at your back than you, he adds, “You were really good today. Especially during the party scene.”

“Oh!” you say, surprised to be receiving such a compliment. You tuck your hair behind your ears before turning to face him. “Thanks.”

He sees a small smile forming, and excitement rushes through his body. Your smile grows, and he feels heat spreading across his cheeks. It dissipates when he sees Romeo’s actor approaching. He ignores Jisung, brusquely walking past him and almost knocking him into a rack of clothes.

“Hey, Juliet! Nice job today!” he smiles.

You fiddle with your mic and the piece of mic tape on your cheek. “Not too bad yourself, Romeo,” you reply, more breathlessly than possible for someone standing still.

“Ah!” He runs a hand through his hair, and Jisung doesn’t miss your sharp inhale. “Ms. Park’s gonna give me so many notes for the balcony scene. I bet she’s going to make me run through it with her during class tomorrow.”

“I thought you were good. I almost believed it.”

“See? ‘Almost believed it!’”

You laugh, reminding Jisung of windchimes in the summer breeze. Romeo joins in soon after, and Jisung has never felt more like an extra in his life. You and Romeo walk out the side doors, shoulder to shoulder, still chatting about rehearsal. You tilt your head up when speaking to Romeo, and Romeo lowers his when speaking to you. An unfamiliar heat flashes through Jisung. It makes his heart race, but it’s a different kind of thumping from when he dreamed of kissing you. He stares at the now-closed side door, trying to figure out the feeling. He taps his foot at the same beat as his heart.

“Hey, Jisung,” the floor chief calls, “Help me move the balcony to stage left.”

Jisung stops his rapidly increasing tapping and gives Changbin a thumbs-up. “Let me take off my headset first.” He leaves it on the tiny table where Changbin’s binder of cues are usually located and then follows him to the main stage.

They push the set piece to the stage left and leave it behind one of the black curtains. The tech director begins with his notes when he sees that all of the crew is seated somewhere in the auditorium. He starts with lights, then sound, and finally stage crew. There’s a small argument between Changbin, the floor chief, and Felix, the stage manager, about calling cues, but Jisung gets the brunt of the criticism for being too slow during blackouts and for not paying attention to calls. Notes end with the tech director thanking the tech crew for their hard work and bidding everyone good night.

After helping Changbin sort out the set, Jisung goes to the drama classroom that doubles as the green room to pick up his backpack and books. He sees you out of your costume, sipping on a bottle of water while sitting on top of one of the many tables scattered about. You hold your phone with your other hand, a frown on your face. Taking a look around, he notices that you and him are the only ones in the room. He uses this opportunity to approach you.

“You okay?” he asks.

You swallow your water with an audible gulp, and Jisung tries to not pay attention to the motion of your throat. “Yeah. I’m just waiting for my mom to pick me up. She still hasn’t seen my text yet though.”

“I can drive you home,” he blurts out. “If you want.”

You give him an appreciative smile. “It’s alright. She’s probably just finishing her show. She’ll be here soon.”

Jisung nods and shuffles his books. He doesn’t want the conversation to end, but he doesn’t know what else to say. His eyes wander around the room, looking for inspiration. Whiteboard markers? Gray hoodies? His search is cut short when Romeo — Jisung still doesn’t know his name — comes in with two bags of chips.

“Catch, Y/N!” He tosses one to you, and you barely do so in time with two hands.

Jisung’s presence is forgotten as you grin at Romeo. “What’s this for?”

“Just ‘cause. The vending machine gave me two instead of one, so I thought I’d give it to the first person I saw. Which happened to be you.”

Liar is the first thought that goes through Jisung’s mind. He hugs his books to his chest and glares daggers at the floor. You lying, lying liar.

You either believe him or don’t care. You open the bag with vigor and pop one into your mouth. “Thank you, vending machine gods.”

Romeo sidles up to you and tilts his head towards you with a similar grin to yours. He reaches a chip from your bag, and you playfully smack his hand away. Jisung somehow feels less than an extra, like someone who’s watching on the other side of a television screen. It’s more than he can bear, so he mumbles, “See you tomorrow,” and leaves.

Neither you nor Romeo notice him exiting.

Jisung drives home with one arm dangling out of the window. His car is suffocatingly stuffy after sitting all day in the sun, and he feels hot after having spent all day basking in your sunshine. A love song quietly plays in the background, and he wishes you were in the passenger seat, singing along, thinking about him.

~ ad.gray

#stray kids #skz #han jisung #hwang hyunjin #stray kids han #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids au #theatre au #high school au #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfiction #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz fanfic #skz au #stray kids x reader #slow burn #yandere #20200819