#but every other category was pretty close like if they would’ve gotten organized and really tried they could’ve stole most heartbreaking

[puthyflapps]

girl what happened this time?

The E tv scoops awards thing was going on last week and TW won in every category they were nominated in. FK was also nominated in two of the same categories and they’re basically mad that TW won and now they’re just talking a lot of shit. They seem to be particularly perturbed that Shoni won Steamiest Kiss

Like instead of getting mad at the TW girlies for being organized and creating voting schedules, maybe you should be taking notes so you can win in future polls because ain’t no one else to blame but y’all. If you want the award, vote harder 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

[heyitssmiller]

Bewitched, Body and Soul

So... this happened. Blame the Discord. Basically, the premise is receiving a note from a stranger about having similar tastes in books, and my first thought was Finn/Leo. And now, around 24 hours later, this showed up in my word document. Hope y’all like it!! And don’t worry, I’ve already got a sequel planned with Logan ;)

All characters, of course, belong to the wonderful @lumosinlove

And, if you’re so inclined, check out my Masterlist if you enjoy this story! <3

CW: food/drink

.

Leo loved this bookstore. There was a west-facing windowfront that allowed all sorts of afternoon light to shine through, creating a large, warm sunspot right in Leo’s favorite armchair. The shelves were always neatly organized by category, there was a featured book of the week, and there was a coffee shop sequestered to one corner of the building. What else did he need in life? He’d spent countless hours here, sitting with a new book and a cup of coffee or tea and getting lost in whatever world he’d been transported to within the crisp pages and black ink. Being new to the city, there were probably better ways to make friends, but there was something so soothing, so comfortingly familiar about shutting off the worry in his mind and just focusing on the story unfolding in his hands.

But when his stomach growled loudly in protest, he figured he needed to put reading on hold.

There was a wrinkled, jagged-edged scrap of paper sitting on top of Leo’s book when he returned to his table, café pastry in hand. It hadn’t been there a second ago. Curiously, Leo set his food down and inspected the foreign paper. Messy, inelegant scrawl slanted across the page in deep blue ink. The lines were uneven and chaotic; the i’s weren’t even dotted, almost as if it took too much effort to go back and add them in. Leo found it strangely endearing. It read:

           Hi!

           I don’t think we’ve met, but based on your choice of literature I think we would make great friends. :)

-        Carrot Top

Leo smiled, read it again, and looked around for the person who sent it but no one acknowledged him, seemingly lost in stories of their own. So he sat there, a smile still on his face as he got back to his book, using the note as a bookmark.

~~~

Finn couldn’t help himself when, a few days later, he left another note after seeing the guy with good taste in books again at the bookstore. He was at what must have been his usual table, seemingly right where Finn had left him. The only difference besides the clothes he was wearing was the book he was reading. Finn let himself linger on his profile, just for a second – the gentle slope of his nose, the way his curls rested against his forehead, how bright blue eyes scanned the pages below him.

Finn wasn’t one for love at first sight; that was for romance novels only. But instant attraction? Oh yeah. He was definitely there.

He picked up a small flyer from the front desk, flipped it over, and began to write.

And maybe it wasn’t a good way of, as the kids said these days, “shooting his shot”. But it was a start. And it was fun – the thrill of trying not to get caught, the anonymity. Sure, one day he’d maybe get up the courage to talk to him in person, but he was happy with this for now.

           Hmm… haven’t read that one. Might have to get myself a copy!

-        The Walking Freckle

After dropping the note off while the blond walked off to take a phone call, Finn tried to act casual as he stared sightlessly down at his own book instead of over at the cute stranger like he desperately wanted to.

Don’t be suspicious, don’t be suspicious…

If he was being completely honest, he didn’t really know where to go from here. Did the blond think the notes were creepy? Or weird? He never seemed to mind much, but… well, a stranger was repeatedly leaving notes for him. What if it was making him uncomfortable? Would it make things better or worse if Finn introduced himself?

A snort came out, unbidden. Yeah. Right. That would go well. Finn could practically see it now: he would be clumsy and awkward, probably spilling coffee all over the guy’s book or – even worse – all over him. He’d scare him off for sure.

But at the same time, Finn wanted nothing more than to meet him. To sit down across the table from him and debate the points of the book he was reading, or give book recommendations, or just talk. About literally anything. Finn wasn’t a picky guy. He could sit there and let him speak for hours, absorbing any and all knowledge about him like a sponge. Did the corners of those bright, blue eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiled? Did his cheeks get all flushed when he was passionate about something, just like Finn’s? What was the story behind the soft-looking tuft of gray hair at his temple?

Who was he?

Finn was overflowing with questions, and desperate for the answers.

But he needed to go about this the right way, didn’t he? The last thing he wanted to do was screw this up. So he closed his book, propped his chin in his hand so that he could stare out the window, and started to plan.

~~~

The next note threw Leo for a bit of a loop. He’d saved his table with his coat thrown over one of the chairs and went up to the New Books section, surreptitiously keeping an eye on his table and hoping that he’d catch his note-sender red-handed.

Leo could’ve sworn that he’d looked away for half a second, but – well, he got distracted by a book, so it easily could’ve been five minutes for all he knew. This note was written on one of the café napkins, the ink bleeding through in some spots and a few small tears in the delicate material.

Nice choice! That book absolutely shattered my heart and then pieced it back together. The way she writes love lost just hurts so beautifully, doesn’t it?

I like your sweater by the way.

Fuck I hope that’s not creepy.

I’m not a stalker, I promise. I just think you’re really cute. And you have amazing taste in books. I’d like to learn more, if you’d let me. :)

But first, you have to figure out who I am! Good luck!

-        Your Not-So-Secret Admirer in the Tortoiseshell Glasses

He smiled, wide and happy, and looked around for tortoiseshell glasses, red hair, and freckles. Those were the only three clues he had so far. So he quickly scanned the crowded café, looking for anyone who fit the description. The only one even close was a freckled, redheaded guy at the corner table, but no glasses.

That was a shame, too. He was stunning.

The mystery bibliophile must already be gone, then. Or hiding.

Looked like Leo had his work cut out for him. He did always like a challenge.

~~~

It probably wasn’t Finn’s best idea to take his glasses off. He couldn’t see a damn thing and was left squinting down at his book, trying to determine if what he was seeing was an F or a P.

That smile, though… he could’ve seen that dimpled smile from all the way across the street.

He never thought he’d be pining for a stranger like this, but then again – he wasn’t a complete stranger, was he? After all, you could learn a lot about a person by their book preferences. Finn wasn’t normally known for being a good judge of character – he was too optimistic, too unwilling to see the bad in people. But damn, did he hope he was right about this one.

~~~

Finn had probably been too bold with the note he’d just dropped off, but when he’d seen what book that his new maybe-friend was reading, he knew he couldn’t just pass up an opportunity like that.

He didn’t wait to see the reaction this time – he wasn’t sure he wanted to. He just left the short note on top of the book while the blond was at the café counter and booked it (pun definitely intended) out of there as fast as he could.

           You have bewitched me, body and soul. <3

-        Bambi

~~~

He should’ve waited. Leo’s reaction, all bashful smile and bright red face and pleased expression, would’ve been worth it.

~~~

Leo went back to the bookstore pretty much every day after that, intent on finding this person. Not only was this a fun little game they were playing, but it would be nice to finally have a friend in the city. He still didn’t know anyone besides his coworkers and… well, he was a little lonely. A friend would be nice, especially one who had a shared interest in books.

The only thing left to do was to find them.

Red hair, freckles, glasses, and big doe eyes.

Leo looked for the only four defining traits he had, methodically starting in the front of the store and weaving through isle after isle of bookshelves. When that proved unsuccessful he moved on to the café, gaze landing on the queue first before lurching to a stop at the glimpse of a shock of auburn hair in the far corner booth. Heart hammering in his chest, Leo used his height to his full advantage and peered over the line of people.

Freckles, Glasses, Big, doe eyes.

If he needed any more confirmation, the stranger – the very cute stranger – was reading the same book Leo had been reading a week ago. The one his anonymous friend said they hadn’t read yet.

It had to be him.

Leo didn’t let himself think about it too much – he knew he’d panic if he did. He just strode over and sat down across from him, setting his book down on the table with a quiet thud. The note-writer jumped a little, then lifted wide brown eyes to look up at him.

Oh, but he was gorgeous.

“So what part are you at?” Leo asked, eyes taking in everything they could now that he was close enough – that messy red hair that just barely curled at the ends, the hint of scruff on his jaw, brown eyes shifting from shade to shade in the afternoon light filtering through the window beside him. Soft, mesmerizing lips curved into the beginnings of a smile that Leo couldn’t help but be transfixed by. “Have you gotten to the part where Patroclus dies?”

Finn stared back, trying to look horrified but he knew he was smiling so much that they counteracted each other because, finally, he’d figured it out. “I can’t believe you’d break rule number one of having a reading buddy: don’t spoil the ending.”

Dimples.

“Oops.”

Finn was done for.

“I’m Finn,” he managed to stammer, aiming for his best smile and probably looking like he’d just tasted something awful instead.

“Leo,” his companion said with a warm smile. Then he frowned. “Wait, no. Go back. You can’t spoil the ending of a story that’s literally thousands of years old.” The blond leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee and watching in amusement as Finn gaped at him in horror. He could feel his cheeks and ears getting red, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“That’s so not the point!”

Leo laughed, then motioned for Finn to state his case. And then Finn was off, forgetting all about his nervousness and tendency to be awkward. He ranted about that topic for… well, he didn’t really know how long, but it was a while. Leo didn’t even bat an eye, keeping pace well and interjecting with his own points calmly and collectedly – the gentle breeze to Finn’s tornado. He was smiling, too, even though sometimes he tried to hide it behind the rim of his coffee cup. And he was smart, Finn learned as they jumped from one topic to the next and the minutes ticked by. He knew a lot about literature, like Finn, but he could also make these random connections to all kinds of different topics that Finn would’ve never thought of, all while keeping up with Finn’s fast-paced brain and tendency to jump down rabbit holes.

It was an instant connection, the likes of which Finn had never experienced before. It was intoxicating. Finn felt like he could never get enough.

During a lull in between one conversation and the next, Leo pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it over, looking suddenly and inexplicably shy. Finn cocked his head confusedly, then unfolded the paper and looked down.

           Would you like to go on a date sometime?

PS: I’m free tonight if you are. :)

-        The Guy Who’s Been Crushing on You for Weeks

Finn’s heart threatened to burst. “Absolutely.” He hesitated, just for a second, then decided to go for it. “Are you free now? I know a pretty great café nearby.” With a wiggle of his eyebrows, he jerked his thumb at the bookstore café and earned a laugh. He wondered what he could do to earn another.

“Sounds perfect.”

They walked over to the counter together, the backs of their hands just barely brushing – it was still enough to make Finn hyperaware of every miniscule movement and get his pulse hammering. Leo was teasing Finn for his terrible eyesight in a soft, southern drawl – something Finn definitely wasn’t expecting but sure as hell wasn’t complaining about, his fingers deliberately playing with Finn’s now, and Finn knew it was going to be a good night. It was already a good night; how could it possibly get any better?

“What can I get for you?”

Leo and Finn looked up at the barista and their eyes widened in tandem as they took in thick chestnut waves, long, dark lashes, and bottle-green eyes. He wasn’t smiling, not necessarily. His expression was fairly neutral, all things considered – except for those eyes. If you stared at then long enough, you could see just the faintest whisper of amusement.

They both looked down slightly, searching for a nametag. There, in bold black letters, read:

Logan.

[thesubtextmachine]

When @persongoingfast talks about supporting non-snippy fanfic and you write  a low-quality angst piece about friends growing apart (except not really??) reblog if you can relate. Also here it is:

…

Harriet Driscoll snaps the photo on her disposable camera, knowing that the flash and noise would make Buffy's head snap up from her work.

The picture was glorious, nonetheless. It was Buffy, clad in stained jeans and an oversized sweatshirt and propped up by her elbows on the fuzzy carpeted floor of the living room, surrounded by stark white application papers and the occasional pop of a colorful post-it note as she organized and wrote notes and was generally brilliant.

The logo of "Montgomery Preparatory School" was emblazoned on almost every paper, and Harriet couldn't help but marvel at what her small eighth grader daughter was capable of. Harriet knew that her daughter was trying to keep this application casual, but if she knew anything about her daughter, she knew that Buffy was launching her entire essence into every handwritten line of her essay.

Harriet was the artsy parent of the family, hence the disposable camera (an aesthetic choice) and status as the only person in the family who understood why Buffy didn't want to tell her best friends about this application. She knew that Buffy wanted this application, whether or not it led to her going to Montgomery for her high school years, to be her journey and her journey alone, without the help or otherwise of her friends. She also knew that Buffy, even if Buffy didn't know this herself, was afraid of what wasn't being accomplished on her part because of her friends (Harriet didn't want to use the phrase "dragging Buffy down", because Buffy would've gotten angry at her for even thinking that).

Harriet knew that whether or not Buffy got in, Buffy was seeking options to get out. As Harriet snapped the photo, her mind passively wished that Buffy would stay like this forever: following her destiny without the knowledge of what she'd be leaving behind.

… Buffy's fingers are nervous, shaking as she takes the badly-lit picture on her phone and sends it to the group chat.

It's an acceptance letter that she hasn't read all of the way, but she recognizes the buzzwords: "accept", "scholarship", "invite", "congratulations".

She promised herself, directly after she left the room where she did her interview, that she would have to pretend that, of she got in, she would tell them in person. She would pass the letter around over a bowl of baby taters and smile like she wasn't about to abandon the best friends she ever had for the opportunities that this fancy prep school would give her.

She decides instead, whilst holding the letter delicately, that a group chat would be better. At least in a group chat, the Do Not Disturb button is an option.

Buffy waits for what seems like forever but really lasts as long as the Law and Order episode that she watches to distract herself to check her phone, and she finds that the responses to her text in the group chat go (in order) from confusion to reluctant joy to worry about her lack of an answer. Buffy writes that she left her phone alone and would definitely be going to the school. She promises to keep in touch with the gang, sincerity evident in every letter. She sighs with relief and begins to text excitedly. The night wears on, questions are asked and answered, and slowly each one of them goes to bed. Buffy is the last one awake, having been blessed with a lenient bedtime and boundless energy.

She retakes the photo, so it's less blurry and better lit and posts it on her Instagram account, taking pleasure in every like and congratulatory comment. Buffy signed her share of the paperwork that confirmed her spot in the freshman class, and placed the rest on the counter, adorned with a neon pink post-it asking her parents to sign their share.

She goes to bed smiling, and almost wants to take a picture of this moment, even though she doesn't know what there is to take a picture of or how to convey her feelings with a photo. She tries to formulate how, and she goes to sleep with her mind swimming in color combinations and photo compositions that would somehow let the world feel what she feels.

… Eight grade graduation is a bittersweet affair, and it's best captured from Cyrus' mom's phone.

The picture's of the Good Hair Crew, with their wrists joined to display matching friendship bracelets. Andi's arm was crowded with bracelets, and their group bracelet had to be picked out from the bunch. Buffy's was well worn and faded, and Cyrus' looked practically new. They all had visibly misty eyes, and Andi's eye makeup (applied by Bex) pooled under her eyes. Buffy's eye makeup, on the other hand, was streaked horizontally, like she was busy swiping it away. They all clung tightly to each other, but they somehow managed to have smiles on their faces. The biggest and most genuine one belonged to Buffy.

This photo was shared and printed and framed by the entire Good Hark Crew, despite the inherent sorrow of it.

… The photo, taken once again with Harriet's disposable camera, is of Buffy. It's a classic "first day" picture, with her adorned in the burgundy and plaid uniform of Montgomery. Buffy shines in nervous anticipation, and she nervously runs her thumb across the handle of her lunchbox. When Harriet and Derreck Driscoll shuffle her into position in front of their car, Buffy rolls her eyes as if she's too cool and her noticeably uncool parents are being uncool. Nonetheless, a photo is taken and the pair gleefully drive Buffy to school, asking her questions that she doesn't know the answer to yet ("how do you feel?""will you need more for lunch?""are you nervous?")

When Harriet and Derreck get home after dropping Buffy off, they simultaneously let out a long sigh. Quietly, some tea is made and they sit down at the coffee table. The weight of the change hangs on them.

"I wish I could look at the picture you took," Derreck says, simply.

"Me too. I don't know what she's feeling."

"It's probably pretty close to what we're feeling. Y'know, scared but excited. Happy but sad. Whatever it feels like to miss something but also wish that it never happened in the first place."

"Do you think she'll be okay?"

"Of course, Harriet. She wouldn't be Buffy if she doesn't take this and turn it into something amazing," Derreck says, taking a worried sip of his tea.

"I think she may be handling this better than we are."

"I don't doubt that for a second."

… Buffy's first friend is named Leslie, and they become friends quickly and loudly. The first picture of Buffy shows up on Leslie's social media (Snapchat, to be specific) when they're working on their homework together outside. Buffy is hard at work, furiously scribbling away at her math problem, but Leslie has reached peak annoyance with her homework. She pulls out her phone, and takes a picture of Buffy. In the background of the photo is Buffy's phone, vibrating and glowing with notifications from her middle school friends.

Leslie's heard about the mythical former friends, Andi and Cyrus. Andi, who crafted and Cyrus who psychoanalyzed. Buffy always spoke about them like they were occurrences in a past life, but from the way Buffy's phone buzzed, some people weren't on the same page. She wasn't entirely sure if Buffy was on the same page either.

Buffy was getting there, apparently, as seconds after the picture was taken, Buffy reached over to her phone, put it on do not disturb, and placed it face-down on the bench. Leslie captioned the picture "Shade Queen", because Buffy did indeed look shady.

Leslie, her distraction quenched, got back to her work, silently wondering. Buffy's friends were a true enigma, as they were never elaborated on except for the off story or clipped sentence-long answer.

Buffy herself was a bit of an enigma. Buffy answered as many questions in class as she could, but didn't talk much outside of the classroom. She was into track and theater, and apparently had involved parents. This was basically what Leslie knew about her, and the rest was a bit of a mystery.

Nonetheless, an epic friendship was brewing, and Leslie knew that it would take a few epic events (a party or a failed test or cheating scandal or a thunderstorm that would cause them to bond) for them to become actual friends.

… Buffy cuts her hair and it really messes with Andi.

It was there, posted on her Instagram account at 3:30 on a Saturday afternoon, filtered with blue and red tones of both her surroundings. Her surroundings being a party? Andi couldn't figure it out, but she was red and blue and different and that was terrifying.

The chop wasn't totally insane: Buffy didn't shave her hair off or dye it some neon color. It was cut from her mid back to be resting a little bit off the shoulders, nothing big but still absolutely terrifying to Andi.

Buffy, a member of the Good Hair Crew, cut her hair without even sending a quick warning text to her best friends. Andi and Cyrus were left to find out like everyone else did. They, in terms of haircut-notification importance, held the same place as Buffy's other middle school acquaintances (read: the ones that didn't matter).

Andi types out a complimentary comment, posts it, and decides to read some of the others.

Middle school acquaintance, mom who knew beforehand, middle school acquaintance, friend from summer camp, and Leslie?

Leslie clearly didn't fit into the categories that comprised of Buffy's other friends. This Leslie had a private school uniform in her profile picture and what was obviously an inside joke in her comment. Andi's face burns with a sense that something had gone awry in her sacred friend group, and that it was something that was spinning out of her control.

Andi decides that texting Buffy would be good. A simple "hey, saw your hair, it looks cool. What else is up" would be enough to catch up on what was apparently a rift in communication. Andi waits anxiously for a reply that doesn't come until the next afternoon, because Buffy was "busy".

… Cyrus' mom, after he makes the team, goes to his first baseball game, and afterwards she gets all of his baseball friends to huddle for a photo.

Cyrus' team is a ragtag group of people, and the photo is odd but glorious: Cyrus in the center, caught by the photo in the middle of talking to Todd, a short teammate with wild, red, curly hair. Peter has his lanky mid-growth spurt arms around both of them, and he smiles awkwardly into the camera. Crowded in on the sides are Jasper and Harry, two twins who's energetic movements are blurred by the camera.

Neither Buffy or Andi went to the game, but it doesn't phase Cyrus in the way that his mom expects it to.

Cyrus is too preoccupied by his new group of friends to really notice the absence of his best friends in middle school. When he checks his phone on the ride home, he sees that Andi sent him apologetic texts about how "something came up". There are no messages from Buffy, but that doesn't shock him as much as he wishes it did.

He texts Andi, telling her that it's all okay. He doesn't text Buffy, because he knows that that's what Andi would do, and he knows that Andi is trying to grasp at something that's slipping away and Cyrus doesn't want to be like that. If Buffy wants out, Cyrus isn't going to stop her.

… Buffy, Leslie, and their new friend Janice are over for an "academic sleepover", as Buffy calls it, and Harriet takes another candid of them on the floor with their work sprawled around them.

Harriet loves this picture.

Buffy has a grin the size if the moon, and Janice is talking excitedly as she points to the binder in front of her as proof. Leslie watches, a lazy, content smile on her face. The fire of an argument is lit in Buffy's eyes, but this time, it's less angry than it used to be in middle school. Back then, Buffy argued people that simply didn't care as much as her, and Harriet remembered how it would make her burn with anger. Now, she watches as Buffy debates whether viruses are living or not with a smile on her face, as she suddenly finds herself with a worthy sparring partner.

Harriet found that she couldn't imagine her daughter being this happy with her friends from middle school. Sure, Buffy loved them. But Harriet had the nagging feeling that Buffy didn't always like them.

… The three members of the Good Hair Crew take a selfie, crowded around a booth that seemed much smaller that it used to, all sipping on their milkshakes that tasted the slightest bit off.

Andi called the meeting, hoping against hope that having the gang back together like they used to be would remind Cyrus and Buffy that they were still friends. After the photo was taken, Andi fights back tears as she realizes that this just doesn't work anymore. They've all changed in the slightest bit, and the puzzle just didn't fit like it should.

Cyrus and Buffy kept looking at each other in that sad, "how are we going to tell her" way, like they were parents desperately grasping for the explanation of the non-existence of Santa Claus that wouldn't make Andi cry.

"So, Buffy, how's Montgomery?" Cyrus asked awkwardly, like he's humoring somebody. As his eyes flickered to Andi, Andi realizes that it was her. They were doing this for her.

"Um, pretty good. There's this Intro to Engineering course that we all have to take, and it's fun, but I'm having a tough time with this one project. We have to write this insane document explaining our device. It's a lot."

"Wow, Buffy struggling with an assignment? I never thought I'd see the day," Andi joked.

"Maybe it's because they are actually challenging," Buffy said, her words laced with the slightest hint of venom.

"Oh, okay, sorry, it's just-" Andi scrambled for an apology.

"No, sorry, it's just- I'm on edge. It's due soon and it's such a massive project that I'm worried about it. I didn't mean to sound rude."

The silence settled on the table, swirling around.

"I should go," Andi stated, gathering her stuff.

"Me too, I've got to meet up with Todd to work on something," Cyrus says, standing up. Buffy follows wordlessly, and they all leave the cafe.

Andi never posts the picture, but she looks at it, sometimes. She looks for answers, mostly. She doesn't find them. Instead, she texts her acquaintances in her art class, and slowly makes friends over craftiness and the beauty of recycling. It's never perfect, or at least as perfect as the Good Hair Crew, but it works.

… Buffy posts a picture, and it's benign, but Cyrus stares at it, his fingers ready to type out a comment. It's a picture of Buffy's laptop screen, where this niche Youtuber that he watches is emblazoned on the screen. The caption is simple, something about how she's the only one who watches it with way to many sad emojis.

Finally, Cyrus takes that jump.

He types out an all-caps "YOU WATCH HIM TOO??? I THOUGHT I WAS A L O N E". He's anxious for a response, as this is a bit risky.

He hasn't talked to Buffy since the Cafe Distaster of Winter, and this is Early Spring. After a long period of silence, especially between former best friends, is this okay?

Apparently it is, as Buffy DMs him and they start talking.

The conversation flows, the way that it hasn't in a while. They talk about the Youtuber, then a show that they both watch, and miraculously, their lives. Cyrus complains about baseball (he loves it, despite complaints) and Buffy complains about her school (she obviously adores it, which is obvious through the complaints). They seamlessly arrange a meetup at their old cafe. It's so easy that it surprises Cyrus. Could they have been doing this the whole time? Cyrus can't figure out the answer, but he's excited to find out.

… Andi finds out that they met up without her through social media, because they would never have told her to her face.

They're in the background of a picture taken by one of her acquaintances from Student Council (Andi has a solid gig of making the posters for Student Council events), and Andi stares at it forever, the questions spilling into in her head until she feels like she's going to overflow.

She cries a little bit, takes a minute or two to scream into her pillow out of frustration that the only person who really wanted to stay friends with them wasn't invited to hang out with them.

She ends up texting Cyrus with a screenshot of the photo, with a question mark. She sees the ellipses spring up, fall down, spring up again, and then fall. She waits. Then, a simple "sorry, it's hard to explain".

"Please just explain, because I don't understand."

"it's been months and Buffy posted something and we started talking about it, and then we hang out"

"Why wasn't I invited? I thought we were a trio?"

"because it's just too hard"

"What???"

"we can't handle spending time with you! you make us sad!! we love you, but spending time with you is so stressful, at least as a group. we are so sorry."

Andi doesn't respond. She just puts her phone on do not disturb and gives herself time to let go of something that's been gone for a while.

… When the first full year of high school at Montgomery Prep is over for Buffy, Harriet takes Buffy out to dinner. Buffy is allowed to invite friends, and the group of people at the circular table of Geraldine's (the restaurant in town that's nice, but not too nice) comes with a few surprises, but nothing insane.

Cyrus is there (if feeling a bit out of place amidst the heady philosophical debates characteristic of Buffy and her friends), Leslie and Janice (who've become, in Harriet's eyes, a singular unit), and Cyrus' friend, Todd (apparently, Todd and Buffy were fast friends, and participated in their own heady philosophical debates).

Harriet pulls a gift bag out of her purse, and hands it to Buffy, who acts much more shocked than she actually is. It's a framed photo of Buffy, the one Harriet took during her applications. Buffy gets emotional, and Harriet giggles as an entire tables-worth of high school almost-sophomores try to either stretch to reach her or actually get out of their seats to give her a hug. The sight is simultaneously heartwarming and hilarious, and Harriet finds herself emotional at the power of her own daughter. The power of her daughter to find the best opportunities for herself and find herself her own family.

"Change is tough," Harriet wrote on the back of the photo, the message hidden by the frame, "Make the best out of it".