#day 2: Lost || Study Abroad/Exchange

[nebbychan]

If nobody else has asked, can we get some more Modern!AU? Maybe Kiya or Canny Tim? If you're already working on it, feel free to ignore!

I did make mention of Kiya in my post about Modern!Daniel Fortesque, so it’s only fair that I describe her first.

Kiya

(30 years old)

Born and raised in Egypt, Kiya was deeply fascinated with her country’s ancient history and is a fervent advocate for the protection and preservation of history. She’s the kind of person that will yell at archeologists for digging up sarcophagi and opening them. She had considered going into archeology herself, though she had her eyes set on a more macabre field of study. Kiya traveled abroad to study mortuary science in Gallowmere, and upon graduating, found that she loved Gallowmere so much that she decided to stay and set up shop. She now works at the local mortuary and funeral home, she not only loves her line of work - being able to provide grieving families closure and respectable memorial services, but she’s also about to get promoted (and the position was open because her superior got fired).

There are times where Kiya misses her parents deeply, and does take the time to fly back to Egypt to visit them.

She met Dan at a museum, engrossed in her observations and viewing of Gallowmere’s historical artifacts on display. She didn’t know a whole lot about medieval history, and an offhand comment about how heavy a knights armor must’ve been, Dan couldn’t help but respond and talk about how knights were able to move around in armor. His excited explanations enthralled Kiya, as the two sat on a bench talking about history for hours. Their conversation was so deep and intense that the two lost track of time and nearly got themselves locked in past closing time.

After that, they decided to meet up again for lunch the next day, exchanged numbers, and the rest is history. They’ve been going on strong for a few years now, taking their time and currently there’s talk of Kiya moving in with Dan since he works from home and her job is a shorter commute from there.

Other Facts

- Kiya never knew her birth mother, as far as she’s concerned, her stepmother is her mother

- Kiya started dressing goth once she traveled abroad to study (and meeting Dan, she suspects he might have a thing for goth girls)

- Has tried and failed many times to convince Dan that her workplace isn’t haunted, stemming from an incident where Kiya had to get her car repaired and so Dan happily offered to come pick her up from work. He wandered into cold storage while she was getting ready to clock out, heard a body sigh, freaked out, and then she had to be the one to drive because he was beyond frightened; Dan stayed the night at her apartment

- Her fascination with mortuary science came from reading a book all about mummification, which then led to her becoming interested in funerary practices all over the world

- Loves horror movies, particularly 80’s slasher films; the campier, the better. She and Dan had a movie date at her apartment to watch/riff on Silent Night, Deadly Night Part 2 and now quote, “Garbage Day!” on a regular basis

[royalredbrosweek]

Royal Red Bros Week 2024 Prompts

Royal Red Bros Week 2024 will be taking place February 4th-11th.

Day 1 (Feb. 4th): Raining || Myth

Day 2 (Feb. 5th): Lost || Study Abroad/Exchange

Day 3 (Feb. 6th): Spirits/Ghosts || Secrets

Day 4 (Feb. 7th): Thunderstorm || Fairy Tale(s)

Day 5 (Feb. 8th): Badly Injured/Verge of Death || Bonding

Day 6 (Feb. 9th): Getting in Trouble || Drunkenness

Day 7 (Feb. 10th): Sleep Deprived || School AU

Day 8 (Feb. 11th): Free Day

Reminder, you don’t have to do every day, you don’t have to do both prompts, and lastly, late submissions will be accepted throughout the year. 

Make sure certain content like gore or other triggering topics are properly tagged.

Also tag your submissions #royalredbrosweek2024 and @royalredbrosweek to make sure I see it! Happy creating 

@hetaliahappenings​ @heta-on-the-books

[koolkat9]

Royal Red Bros Week 2024 - Day 2

@royalredbrosweek

Prompt: Lost || Study Abroad/Exchange

Rating: T

Relationship: England + Canada

Word Count: 546

Read on AO3

Author's Note: Fun fact. This is based on a personal experience from my exchange!

Not Alone

Getting dropped in the middle of nowhere was a great summary of how this whole exchange experience had been so far.

Matthew looked at his app, wondering if he missed the stop he was supposed to get off at to reach town, but no, this was where the app sent him. He grunted, shoving the phone in his pocket.

He started walking towards a nearby suburb and what looked like a collection of stores just beyond it. He spotted a man just ahead, heading the same way. Heart hammering in his chest, stomach flip-flopping, Matthew approached the man.

“Um…Excuse me sir…I-I was just wondering if I’m going the right way to reach the main part of town?”

The man turned to him, brow raised. He was silent for a moment. Matthew shrunk back.

Finally, the man spoke. “Yes. I’m heading that way right now actually.”

“Cool. Awesome. Um…” Matthew tugged lightly at the strings of his sweatshirt.

The man started walking a gestured towards him.“Come along. We’re heading the same way, and you’re clearly not from around here.”

The man spoke sharply, much like his features. It made Matthew straighten up when he spoke.

“A-Alright. Thank you.”

The two walked in silence for a moment. Matthew couldn’t stop looking around at the houses. Many looked straight out of a fairy tale with Tudor siding and worn brick.

“So, where are you from?” The man finally asked.

“Ah. Canada. Just outside Ottawa.”

The man’s face softened slightly, almost as if he was suppressing a smile. “Ah, Canada. Have a daughter out there. Lived there for almost a decade actually, but I was on the east coast.”

“Oh? Where might I ask?”

“New Brunswick. Then I moved to Southern Ontario to be closer to my daughter and her wife.”

Matthew nodded along. “Nice, nice.”

“Are you here on holiday?”

“No. Exchange actually. For about a year.”

“Oh, so are you at the university just down the road?”

Matthew nodded, weight being lifted with each word. “Yeah. I just wanted to get out and explore the area so I came here.”

The two eventually reached the main street. Or at least what Matthew assumed was something like a main street. There were shops, cafes, all things he could check out. The man pointed towards some shops he liked to browse, a cafe that he stated served the best scones, and the waterfront where he liked to sit and read.

“Will you be good from here?” The man asked.

“I think so. Thank you for all your help.”

“Oh, here.” The man pulled out a notebook from his pocket and scribbled something onto the page. “My name is Arthur, and if you ever would like to chat or get together for dinner or coffee. Feel free to reach out." Arthur paused for a moment, looking off to the side wistfully. "I…I know it can feel lonely so far from home without knowing anyone around you. And if I can alleviate some of that…”

Matthew took the paper and stared down at it in awe. “Thank you…that means a lot actually.”

Arthur patted his back. “Now I got groceries to get. Enjoy your adventure lad.”

Matthew smiled softly and nodded before taking off towards the waterfront.

[random-mailbox]

Random-Mailbox's Favorite Sailor Moon Fics - Week 18 - High School AU

This post’s theme was suggested by the wonderful @lilliebellfanfics (check out her works on AO3 and FFN (links to her profiles are in platform names) since they do not fully overlap and trust me, you don’t want to miss them!). She just started posting her Dendy AU shorts too, so definitely worth a look.

High School AU, from @floraone ’s matrix (here is the post with it for reference), is a fun way to explore the dynamics between Mamoru and Usagi in a more age appropriate setting for Anime based stories and more in line with Manga characterizations.

As always, my apologies in advance for spoiling some of these for you (Fic Titles are linked to either FFN or AO3 entries).

Wool you love me already? – @midnightdrops

The story set in an AU where Mamoru and Usagi are great friends and classmates right from the start. It starts with Usagi telling Mamoru that she would like to confess to someone she likes in their class, which is why she cannot tell him who it is. She even enlists his help in making sure the confession goes to plan. The catch? Mamoru is the one she will be confessing to.

(side note: make sure you are logged into your AO3 account to access this story, it has been locked down with all the scraping and reposting on other platforms without writers' consent)

Box of Chocolates - Chapter 3: Day 6: Alternate Universe – @kasienda

Instead of Mamoru springing going to Harvard on Usagi and just leaving, in this story he comes up with an alternate plan – he suggests Usagi joins him in the US and attends a high school near his campus, so he doesn’t have to be away from her for as long. Her parents agree to their plan as long as their conditions are met – Usagi passes all her classes for the fall semester AND gets good scores on her TOEFL exam to prove to them that she is ready.

Time After Time – @idesofnovember

In this almost sickeningly sweet multichapter, Usagi transfers to a new school part way through the school year to get better guidance in her Arts pursuits, and is introduced to the school president on her first day. He is someone she has known when she was little and was one of her best friends, however, she lost touch with him. But does he remember her and promises they had made?

Graduation - @celticreeder

When even Andrew bails on attending Darien’s graduation, Serena makes sure that the day is a special one for him, attending the ceremony and inviting him over for a celebratory dinner with her family. But what happens when Darien has to go abroad to study?

Our Secret Notebook - luna-magic-2005

Mamoru was headed to the roof to brood in peace, when he gets armful of Usagi, rushing to their art class. While quickly picking up books she dropped in their collision, she forgot her notebook. Having read it, Mamoru starts leaving notes for her inside it, passing it back-and-forth.

The Longest Trip Ever - Serenity-hime

Usagi, the girls and Mamoru are all doing one week exchange to the US, relieved to get away from fighting Youmas. Except that's where Dark Kingdom chooses to strike next. Without knowing Sailor Moon and Tuxedo Mask's true identities, our duo must balance secrecy with trying to save everyone.

The Golden Boy of Juuban High - @uglygreenjacket

Student council president Mamoru and Usagi have been sneaking around for months, making out all over the school. Usagi getting sick finally makes Mamoru confront his feelings, but in true anime-centric fashion he royally screws up communicating them.

That's it for today! Next week's post will cover some "Slice of Life" stories for @lilliebellfanfics!

Here are the links to the previous Tumblr posts in these series to explore more amazing works based on different themes - make sure to check them out if you haven't had a chance! (Click on title name to go to the post) - I will keep updating the list every week as new posts come up:

Week 1 - Groundhog Day

Week 2 - Established Relationships

Week 3 - Sex Positivity

Week 4 - Unfinished Stories

Week 5 - Darker Stories

Week 6 - Potions 🧪

Week 7 - Reveals

Week 8 - 👻Halloween🎃

Week 9 - Wrong Perceptions

Week 10 - Non-Senshi AU

Week 11 - In-Progress Fics

Week 12 - Mutual Pining

Week 13 - Enemies to Lovers

Week 14 - Slow Burn

Week 15 - Christmas Part 1 - Ugly Christmas Sweaters and Santa!

Week 16 - Christmas Part 2

Week 17 - New Years

[wol-blackthorne]

Transcription of Tural Travelogue, pt. 3: Wachunpelo

(Dawntrail All Quests Spoilers ahead)

[Master Post]

4A/10S - started the day taking reed dumplings to the workers at Flight of We Wingless. Do not eat reed dumplings. I will be picking strings out of my teeth until the next calamity.

Meet a Mamool Ja Gulool Ja Ja had sent to study local magic practices. After asking around, we were invited to the House of Winds High. The Hanu's master of air-based magicks is multi-faceted, coming from their diet, feathers, and meditation. They also train by jumping from high places. I had to explain that most people cannot survive a jump from a hundred yalm tower and my training as a dragoon is exceedingly rare. Moving on soon.

With the new moon, I had hoped to have a good view of the stars, but the thick canopy blocks much of the sky. [Note: perhaps a reference to earlier in the week, as it would be a waxing half-moon at this time.]

--

4A/11S - Arrived in Wachunpelo late in the day. I forgot alpacas are not to be trifled with. Were it not for the echo (A lie. It still smells 2 days later), I might have gotten a glob of spit to the face. Salina had a minor existential crisis upon realizing a creature can be fluffier than a Hanu. She does seem content with Nunu in the end. She's chewed on it enough she might be spiritbonded with it now. Alpaca filet for dinner. Always a little weird to eat a creature right after interacting with one.

--

4A/12s - No sooner had we left the inn than a Pelupelu shoved empty sacks in my arms. She offered to show how they made their carmine dye in exchanges for an errand. She must have noticed the dye still staining my fingers. Raha went to peruse the markets while I collected cactuars. Apparently they had been affected by a parasite which causes cactuars to move to a higher elevation before dying. Perhaps the parasite gets eaten by something at high elevations to be passed on? Ick.

Raha found a merchant selling corrupted crystals. An Uldahn merchant had swindled the Pelupelu into thinking the crystals were a valuable resource in Eorzea. If only. The Pelupelu, Nopli, tricked the Uldahn back purely to show the error of his ways. I have my doubts, but Nopli is right that cross-oceanic trading partners are hard to come by. May they never fear unjust favor's bite.

--

4A/12S - Spent most of the day at the inn and hot springs. Met a Mamool Ja interested in sharing a sacred dance at the springs. I immediately recalled the Mamool Ja from Bronze Lake years ago who proposed the same thing. They are, in fact, part of the same group. I'm not sure what has become of Bungaal Ja, nor am I sure if I should feel relieved that their dance is considered inappropriate here as well. Perhaps some things are universal after all.

--

4A/13S - Helped rescue a mercenary whose charge and wagon had been attacked by wolves. Mostly spent the day out of town. A shepherd named Yavli provided (sold) me some soap to get the last of the alpaca spit off. A welcome reprieve. The smell has put me in a foul mood.

--

4A/14S - Feeling better but still fatigued. I suppose anyone would feel off after having alpaca spit smell on their face for days.

--

It may be altitude sickness. Raha is feeling unwell also, and Esuna appears to have no effect. A merchant overheard us and reminded us of the effects altitude can have on our bodies. We've both spent so long in Sharlayan we've lost our acclimation to elevation, and the excitement during my previous stay in Wachunpelo distracted me from any fatigue. The merchant, a hyur man, offered mate tea as an aid. It does seem to help. Conveniently, our next stop was the mate and coffee farms. Upon learning of our extensive travels, they insisted we sample all of their experimental flavors to determine which might sell abroad the best. I liked the honey one, and Raha the coffee-like. We've procured bags of both [unclear] mate leaves and coffee beans to take home.

There was a Pelupelu experimenting with coffee beans found in bear excrement. We politely declined, but I offered Gegeruju's name as a potential customer.

--

Returned to Tuliyollal. I can breathe again but moreso I can sleep.

--

4A/15S - Raha and Salina staying in Tuliyollal while I check in on the stolen relics. There were reports waiting when I returned home with the coffee and mate. Started with the report from Porta Praetoria. The thieves behind the theft of the Steelhog Vessel had been sighted robbing merchants on the roads. Met Ceetol Ja, who had been sent to find the relic, and Commander Anlaf. As we were speaking, the bandit himself, in all audacity and a cheap merchant costume, came to lead us into a trap. As if I haven't done the exact bit a hundred times.

Fortunately they don't appear to have recognized me, so I played along for now. I suspect they planned to either take me hostage or worse had I not taken out their goons, but they retreated for now. Asked commander to tail them. No sign of relic. Next stop: Kugane.

--

4A/16S - Rain in Kugane. Met I'toca, a Viera [Shetona] archer, looking for the Dreamweave Cocoon relic. We quickly found its thief by looking for chaos in the markets. The thief was using its power to impersonate people and start fights. I'toca has a reagent to neutralize the transformation, which she used to some success, after a minor mixup. However, I'm suspicious of her skill with a bow. I could understand the first miss in the rain, but there was no such rain when we found the thief again in the Ruby Sea. In any case, both the Sekiseigumi and the Confederacy are keeping an eye out for the thief.

--

4A/17S - Summoned to the congregation. Loazenikwe arrived in Ishgard yesterday. Tentoawa has been asleep for nearly two weeks and she was concerned by his silence. She provided the recipe for a draught to counter the Cradle's effects. A quick trip to the Mists and Dravania later and Tentoawa is awake. His weakened state indicated the cradle may have the power to steal aether. Tentoawa needs to recuperate before we take action. Knights on alert. Will return in a week.

[kimistorm]

Bang Chan x Reader || Dreams of Soulmates

Fandom: Stray Kids

Pairing: Bang Chan x GN! reader

Genre: Soulmate AU, Idol Chan, exchange student reader

Warnings: mentions of food

Word count: 3.1k

Something felt off when you realized you were dreaming. The flower field you were in was a comfortable, almost unnoticeable temperature, and the sun was partially covered by clouds, not enough to make it dark, but enough so you weren’t blinded by sun rays to your face. You hesitantly pinched yourself and stared down at your hands in shock when the pain didn’t register. You were definitely dreaming, especially since you had no recollection of how you got into this lush field, but you were aware of what was happening.

And then you saw him. There was another man in the field with you, looking about as bewildered as you felt. You lightly ran up to him, your white clothes brushing lightly against your body from the wind. He too was wearing a loose white shirt, with blue jeans that seemed to match the color of the sky around you. However, that wasn’t what caught your attention, it was the elegantly styled purple hair that rested atop his head. “Hi,” you tested out a little breathlessly when you were a respectable distance apart.

He started and spun around to look at you with a shocked look on his face. He evidently didn’t see nor hear you running up to him. “Hi,” he replied back with a smile, recovering from the shock quickly, “do you know what this is?” he gestured to the field surrounding you and you gave him a sheepish shrug in return.

“I was honestly hoping you knew,” you couldn’t help but look around in wonder as you voiced your thoughts, “this is the first time I’ve been here.” He let out a hum of agreeance. You continued to watch the stranger in front of you, you had never seen him before, you figured purple hair like that would cause enough of a memory for you to remember, but as you wracked your memory, nothing came up. “Are you a figment of my imagination?” you couldn’t help but ask. If this was all a dream, was he also just a dream?

His face scrunched up cutely as he thought about your question, his eyes darting around in confusion, “I don’t think so.”

You couldn’t help but laugh nervously, wherever you were, you and Mr. Stranger were both completely lost. “Well, I’m (y/n),” you held out your hand for him to shake, which he promptly did.

“Chan. Nice to meet you.” He gave you a brighter smile than before, making dimples show up on his face.

“You as well.” You gave him your own bright smile, he seemed like a good person. You thought back to what you did before bed. You finished up an assignment before flopping onto your bed to check your social media for any notifications (only to be disappointed with nothing of importance) and then falling asleep. Nothing out of the ordinary, and definitely no drugs that would’ve caused this wild dream. Could it even be called a dream by this point?

“So what do you do?” you were snapped out of your thoughts to see Chan had taken a seat in the field with his hands behind him as he leaned back comfortably. You quickly took a seat next to him, the tops of the grass hardly coming up to your elbows.

“I’m a student,” you answered honestly, “studying (your choice). Took a gap year, but I’m going to graduate soon!” you replied excitedly, the thought of being free from school brought a smile to your face, “what about you?”

Chan turned his attention to you and you took the opportunity to notice how clear his skin was. How you wished you could get clear skin like that. “I make music,” he replied with a smile.

“That’s so cool!” you couldn't help but gush in excitement. You loved listening to music, and while you entertained the idea of making your own music, the layers of vocals, harmonies, backing tracks, and the programs were all too discombobulating to you. So you were content to just listen to what other talented people could make. “What kind?”

His face quirked as he thought about it, “a variety. Mostly hip hop and rap.” You nodded eagerly and seeing your excited expression, he elaborated a bit more, “I mainly do it with 2 friends of mine, they’re amazing honestly.”

“I’m sure you’re very talented as well,” you replied reassuringly with a confident nod.

He ducked his head shyly, “how can you say that when you haven’t even heard it?”

“It takes amazing talent to know amazing talent,” you replied with a knowing grin. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he and the field suddenly vanished. Leaving you discombobulated as your hand fumbled around for your phone that was blaring at you to wake up. As you sat up in bed, trying to figure out what day of the week it was, you remembered Chan’s smiling face. That dream...it felt like more than just a dream.

                                                       ☁☁☁

Several weeks passed and your nights passed without a peep from Chan. Maybe that was just a dream. But you couldn’t help but feel something was different about that encounter. It felt more substantial than your past dreams, and you could remember every moment of the interaction, something your other dreams couldn’t come close to (if you could even remember them).

So it was to your delight when you found yourself in the field again. You quickly looked around for Chan and rushed over to him when you spotted his figure. “I thought this was all a dream,” you couldn’t help but rush out breathlessly when you got close.

His eyes widened in recognition as he smiled and you felt a warmth grow in your chest, “(y/n)! It’s you again!” his head tilted to the side cutely, “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Same here,” you replied before plopping down to take a seat in the field, “so how’s life been?”

He smiled again, “it’s been good! I’ve been doing a lot of performances with my friends, it’s hard work learning the choreography,” he replied honestly with a shy look on his face, “but totally worth it.” He sighed happily as he gazed up at the sky, “I love being on the stage.”

“That sounds wonderful!” you couldn’t help but smile with him, his happiness was just contagious like that.

He turned attention back to you, “and how about you?”

“It’s been good! I think I’m finally getting the hang of Korea,” you replied with a grin as you thought about how you finally navigated the route from your dorm to the grocery store without the use of a navigation app.

His eyes widened in shock, “oh! Korea?”

You nodded and gave a hum of agreeance, “I guess I forgot to tell you, I’m studying abroad this semester, and I chose to go to South Korea!”

“How do you like it?”

You didn’t even have to think about your answer, “the food here is so good!” The other exchange students and you made it your mission to go out and eat at least three times a week, it was a pain on your wallet, but hey, you were in a new country and you were going to use every opportunity you could get.

His eyes widened in delight, “right! Korean food is so tasty.”

“Do you live in Korea?” you were nervous to ask it, but what if he did? Would you be able to meet Chan in real life? Did you even want to? You’ve only met him twice, and meeting an almost-stranger seemed pretty sketchy. Turns out you didn’t have to worry about his answer though, as you were suddenly yanked out of the dream and pulled back into reality.

You sighed, you wanted to talk to him more, but you smiled again when the image of him smiling at you popped up into your mind. There was just something soothing about his atmosphere. In the dream world, you felt safe with him, and time always seemed to fly by. You felt a blush rise to your cheeks as you recalled how his smile made your heart skip a beat, you couldn’t be falling for the man, you’ve only met him twice. Yet, even just the thought of him made you feel safe and happy.

                                                      ☁☁☁

(friend’s name) gave you a (somewhat) judging look through your phone as you recounted your dream experiences with Chan, “not gonna lie, that’s kind of weird.”

You sighed and ran a hand through your hair, “gee thanks.”

“Let me finish my thought,” (pronoun) responded with an eye roll, “it’s like, soulmate level of weird.”

You froze, then blinked. Once, twice, “you think he’s my soulmate?”

(f/n) shrugged, “I can’t think of any other reason why you’d be able to vividly remember your dreams of him.”

You couldn’t help but just stare in disbelief. You’d heard stories. Only a small percentage of the population had signs of their soulmates, you never thought you’d be part of that population though. For your entire life, you had gone with hardly a second thought about it. Your eyesight was fine, there were no markings on your body, heck, even if it was the dream world, why did it make itself known now? Why was this your first time ever setting foot in that field? “Do you think I should ask him about it?” you were nervously biting your lip, what if Chan didn’t believe in soulmates, and you bringing it up would make him hate you?

“I mean, I don’t know him, so I can’t say,” (pronoun) responded honestly, but you could see concern leaking in (pronoun) eyes, “but what can you lose?”

You looked away, “I enjoy our conversations, I could lose a friendship.”

“Or, gain a soulmate,” (f/n) wiggled (pronoun) eyebrows mischievously, “but it’s only happened twice?” you nodded as (f/n)’s tone became serious, “if you think he is your soulmate, and that he does live in Korea, you’ve got to make a move. You’ll be moving back to (home country) before you know it and the opportunity will be gone.”

You gave a firm nod, (f/n) had a point. You’d ask the next time you saw Chan.

                                                      ☁☁☁

Almost as if the world knew, that night you met Chan in the field. “Chan!” you gave him a happy wave and the two of you ran to each other.

“(y/n)!” the two of you became inches away from a hug before you froze, and he quickly did the same. “Oh, sorry,” he replied nervously and took a step back before taking a seat in the field again, just like normal. You couldn’t help but silently curse at yourself, why did you freeze? You wanted him to be your soulmate, you wanted a hug, but maybe you just made the whole situation awkward before you even asked the question you’d been worried to ask. “How you doin’?” he asked after a moment of awkward silence.

You gulped as you sat down next to him, this whole soulmate thing has been on your mind ever since (f/n) mentioned it, your mind really hasn’t been on anything else other than it. “Good, um,” you had to ask it, but you were still so nervous. Chan looked at you curiously, not pushing you to continue, but just waiting and letting you go at it on your own time, “do you believe in soulmates?”

You nervously awaited his response as he turned his attention to the sky again and thought about it, “yes.” He replied finally and you felt your heart skip another beat. He turned his attention back to you with a soft smile, “why do you bring it up?”

You wanted to shrink under his gaze, it wasn’t harsh by any means, but you suddenly felt uncertain. Maybe he didn’t feel the same pull as you. “Do you think we could be soulmates?” you couldn’t look at him as you asked the question, opting to mumble into your knees instead.

“Sorry?” he leaned closer to hear you better.

“Do you think we could be soulmates?” you repeated clearer, but still avidly averting your eyes. There was silence and you tried to will yourself into a smaller ball, wanting to disappear from the awkward atmosphere you created.

“And that we’re connected through our dreams?” Chan’s soft voice didn’t sound judgeful, instead, it sounded like he suddenly came to a realization. You looked up from your knees and saw awe settled on his face. His dark eyes met yours with a sudden passion that almost scared you, “do you go to sleep at like, normal times?”

“If you’re saying midnight, then yeah?”

Chan let out a sound that sounded like a mix between a laugh and a cry, “then that might be why I hardly ever see you.”

You tilted your head in confusion, what revelation did he make that you didn’t know about? You wanted to ask him but once again, your dream with Chan was disturbed by your alarm. You let out a groan as you turned it off. Why couldn’t you and Chan have a proper conversation?

                                                      ☁☁☁

Much to your surprise, for the second night in a row you found yourself in the field of flowers, however, that did nothing to dampen your delight when you saw Chan already pleasantly sitting in the field. “Glad to see you again so soon,” you grinned as you took a seat next to him.

He turned his dimpled smile to you, “your hunch, or maybe my hunch, either way, it was correct.” You looked at him in confusion, you had no idea what he was talking about. You mentioned soulmates the last time you met, but you didn’t know how that had anything to do with controlling when you met up in the dream world. He seemed to notice your confusion and quickly took it upon himself to explain, “I think the only time we meet is when we’re both asleep, and I’m,” he nervously shifted his gaze, “not one for sleeping before 5 am.”

You couldn’t help the cry of shock that escaped from your lips, “you need to sleep!”

He laughed, “I know, I know.” He then met your gaze with a quiet intensity that you had never seen on his face before, “but I think I’ve found a reason to go to sleep at a decent time.”

You couldn’t help the stuttering of your heart and lips as you pointed at yourself, “are you talking about me?”

“Of course I am!” he replied with a bright smile, “even though I remember these interactions vividly, I still wake up feeling refreshed and rejuvenated.” You couldn’t help but nod in agreeance. Yes, it took you a hot second to wake up (as usual) but it never felt like you got any less sleep.

“So you live in Korea?” that seemed to be a logical conclusion, seeing as he was talking about sleeping at normal times and was so excited about Korean food, but his accent made him sound Australian, which could make sense, considering the two countries weren’t too far apart from each other.

“Yeah,” he nodded, confirming your hunch, “I’m from Australia though, and I’d like to keep my accent.”

You smiled at his comment, “cute.” You found the words spilling from your lips almost naturally. You gasped and clapped a hand to your mouth, but Chan was laughing joyfully, seemingly unperturbed by your sudden exclamation.

He stopped laughing as he looked at you, “do you, want to meet in real life?” he fiddled with the collar of his shirt nervously and turned his attention away from you again as if he was afraid of what you were going to say. You, on the other hand, was at a loss for words. He already seemed to know what you were going to say and what conclusions you were coming to without you even saying anything. Was this what it meant to be soulmates? You seemed to be on the same frequency, coming to the same conclusions and having the same experiences from the dream world. “Ah, nevermind, forget I said that.” He hurriedly took back his words after you accidentally let the silence drag on for too long.

“No wait!” your hands reached out in a panic and he looked to you curiously, “yes! Yes, I’d love to meet you in real life!”

A bright smile broke on his face, “when are you free?” he asked eagerly.

“I should be free this-” the field suddenly disappeared and you found yourself staring at your dark ceiling, “weekend.” You finished your sentence quietly before you turned to your phone. It was still early in the morning, so it wasn’t your alarm that ended the connection. You couldn’t help but feel dejected, you were so close to finding him, but something stopped you. Again.

                                                      ☁☁☁

You were in the grocery store, staring at a wall of tofu that you could throw into a pan and make a quick stir fry, but your mind kept on wandering to Chan. Was it him who broke off the connection? Or was it something else? Something more ethereal and had to do with you being soulmates? “Sorry, excuse me,” you jumped back to let the person get access to the tofu you were standing in front of. He had a bucket hat pulled over his hair and a mask on, just like everyone else, but you couldn’t help but feel your gaze was drawn to him. Something about him seemed familiar, though you couldn’t put your finger on why.

He seemed to notice your stare as he awkwardly turned to you, “can I help you with something?” you met his eyes and that’s when it hit you like a lightning bolt.

You recognized those eyes, they matched the eyes on a face you couldn’t stop thinking about. “Chan?” you let out a breathily, not believing that this was real. You pinched yourself and winced when it actually hurt this time.

“(y/n),” his eyes widened in recognition before they folded in a smile. “So we get to meet in real life anyway!”

“Wow,” you couldn’t help but say back breathlessly, “this isn’t a dream right?”

He grinned back, “I don’t think so.” He suddenly fished in his pocket for something, “what’s your phone number? This way we can talk without being dependent on our sleep schedule.” You eagerly nodded as you dug around for your own phone. You quickly exchanged numbers, and you felt giddy when you saw a simple ‘hi’ from Chan appear on your phone. “Sorry, I’ve got to run,” he apologized once you traded numbers, “but let’s talk later yeah?”

“Of course! Looking forward to it!” you couldn’t help the goofy grin on your face as he gave you a wave before rushing to wherever he had to go. You found your soulmate.

Masterlist 

[marshmallow-phd]

Healing Touch

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Yixing x Reader

Summary: Medical school abroad was the last line on your to-do list before starting the rest of your life. Everything was going according to plan. Everything, that is, until tragedy strikes your campus. In the wake of a professor’s untimely death, you’re partnered with the cute boy with a breathtaking smile in the newly combined labs. You find yourself unable to resist the dimples and shy glances, but his life is here with no plans of leaving. Will you continue on as planned or will you accept the hand that Fate had dealt you?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I Final

**

The smell had not changed in all the years that you used to call this place home. Pinecone potpourri mixed with traditional cooking spices and a hint of citrus from the constant dusting. Your aunt had always been a bit eccentric, a bit off beat. It had made being raised by her both adventurous and anxiety-inducing.

In the privacy of your home, her random dance parties and unfiltered way of speaking made you laugh. But when you were in public and she was pretending to be a mannequin in a window display, you ran away to the food court to hide behind a cup of boba. The explanation was always the same no matter what antics she was pulling: she wanted to break you out of your shell. It seemed like a lost cause. You were comfortable in your shell. It protected you and kept you warm.

“I don’t see how you expect to go trialing off to a place you’ve never been before,” your aunt had complained when you first told her about applying to the far away college.

“They’re two entirely different situations,” you had argued. “I can go to class and go back home without any issues.” These days there was your phone if you ever got lost or in need of food but didn’t want to leave the comfort of your apartment. Modern conveniences only enabled your shut-in ways.

“But what about, you know, friends?” She looked at you over her stylish, cat-eye glasses that she had no use for with her perfect vision.

“I have those,” you insisted. So, you might not have had a best friend, but you had people that you occasionally hung out with and collaborated on. Then there was Victoria and Amber from high school. You still spoke to them regularly, despite them going to different colleges out of the area. Your aunt didn’t realize that not everyone needed multiple circles of friends to bounce between.

Pushing her glasses back up her nose, your aunt pouted. “I just worry about you, that’s all. You still don’t like getting into cars, especially by yourself, and if you happen to be studying late….”

“I don’t mind taking the bus.” A bit of a stretch. You did mind but would still take it if the situation were dire enough. Walking was good exercise. And better for the environment. Someone had to look out for the little bunnies.

“Alright,” your aunt huffed as she sipped on her now lukewarm tea. “It is your life. I’m just a spectator of it.”

“At least you have premium seating,” you teased.

That had made your aunt laugh. She was back to her more carefree self.

“Is that my favorite niece?”

“No, it’s your least favorite nephew.”

Your aunt poked her head out of the hallway, the edge of her pink fuzzy robe telling you that she was getting ready to go out.

That was the exchange the two of you always had when you came to visit. The first time around, you had rolled your eyes and given the sarcastic answer for the cliché greeting. As your mother and aunt were the only siblings in their family and your father was the single offspring from his parents, there were no other nieces or nephews to put above or below you.

Without prompt, your aunt passed through the living room and onto the kitchen. When she came back, she had two wine glasses filled with bubble pink liquid. After handing you the lesser filled glass, she sat down on the couch while you opted for the loveseat, letting your purse drop to the hardwood floor by your feet. Your aunt leaned back on the arm rest with one elbow as she sipped on the wine. “It’s watermelon,” she informed you when you hadn’t taken a drink. “Try it.”

Shaking your head, you did as she asked. Oh, no. It was delicious. That was dangerous. You took another, larger swig before putting the glass down on the coffee table.

Growing up, you’d felt bad for your aunt. Sometimes you still did, though not as much after her many lectures as to why you shouldn’t.

She’d always been the carefree one. As a marketing consultant, she was constantly flying all over the globe, having adventures in between work meetings and bringing those experiences back to you in the form of expensive souvenirs. When your parents volunteered to go help a poorer nation with their health crisis, your aunt was quick to lend her babysitting services. It was only supposed to be temporary, after all. Then tragedy struck

Your parents never came back and suddenly your aunt was now your permanent guardian. The carefree spirit took it in stride. She shifted her strategy to more web-based conferences until you were in high school and able to be on your own for longer periods of time. She never turned into your mother; she never wanted to. For that, you were even more thankful. She was still the spontaneous, forever young aunt that you had always known. That stability in her personality was exactly what you needed. Too much had changed in your world on a dime, the less that was altered the better.

“What prompted this little visit?” she asked, a curious half smile on her lips.

You shrugged. “I hadn’t seen you in a while, so I thought I’d stop by and say hi. It looks like you’re getting ready to go out, though.”

Your aunt waved her hand limply. “Not for a few hours. Besides, anything can wait for you.”

Shifting in your seat, you smiled at the affection she had for you. “I finally heard from the university,” you told her.

Her eyebrows shot up. “You did? They finally decided to stop dangling the carrot and just give it to you, did they?”

“Not exactly,” you cringed. “They said they wanted to see how this semester went and then they would let me know.”

Your aunts face fell into a scowl as if something awful smelling had made its way into her nose. “What sense does that make?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. But at least it’s not an outright no.”

Clicking her tongue, your aunt leaned forward so she was now balancing her elbows on her knees. “You know, there are still other options. Closer options.”

“I know,” you said with a monotone voice. “But Plan A is my focus. I’ll look to other options if that falls through.”

That knowing look you were all too familiar with formed on her face. A long, reminiscing sigh blew out from her lungs. “You are so much like your mother. It’s scary sometimes.”

You never knew how to respond when she said things like that. Should you be happy at the comparison? Sad because your mother wasn’t here to tell you herself? You were a child when your parents passed away. You remembered vague moments, birthday parties and movie nights. But when you’re that young, you don’t get a good idea of your parents’ personalities. You don’t learn what they like or don’t like, how they act in crowds versus a small group of people. You have to rely on the memories of those left behind.

You stayed at your aunt’s house for another hour or so, talking to her about her latest clients and nights out with the girls. You told her how your days were going and how you were adjusting to the new routine with the combined class. The news of Yixing sat on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t bring yourself to mention him. Her reaction would have been too predictable.  She’d ask when the two of you were going to go out and when you explained that it wasn’t like that, she would ask why not. For that, you didn’t have an answer.

While you wanted to say that the two of you were just friends, it didn’t feel like the truth.

You saw more of Yixing than of anyone else, including Ran. He would walk you to class multiple times a day and the two of you would talk. Not about anything too deep. You weren’t at that level yet. He was funny and charming, never speaking a word that wasn’t kind. You learned that he lived in farmhouse in the woods with eight other people, all men. He swore it was never too crowded and that he actually enjoyed the company. He got lonely easily.

He also told you about how he took a few years off of college to figure out what he wanted to do. You’d asked him how he came to the path of becoming a doctor. He said he simply wanted to do something that would help people. He thought about opening a low-income clinic once he had his degree. Suddenly your heart was pumping under your sternum. When he asked why you went pre-med, you gave a shrug and said your parents and left it at that. These conversations were usually nice and lighthearted, you didn’t want to be the downer.

Yes, spending time with Yixing was nice, the highlight of your day, sometimes. But he also felt like a secret. One that you should keep to yourself for now. Good things didn’t always last. You wanted to see if this was a long-term investment for him before you invited anyone else in.

The next day, you needed some fresh air, so you decided to take a walk in the nature center on the edge of town. Although the woods would be a no-go area since they still hadn’t caught the animal terrorizing the area, the center would be full of people and should be quite safe. It couldn’t really be considered part of the woods given the infrastructure and the observation building, could it? Deciding to go anyway, you packed your bag with a few notes, snacks, and a water bottle. As your hand landed on the doorknob to leave, your eyes fell on the jacket lying on the back of the couch.

You hadn’t worn the comforting fabric since that day. The weather had been nice and putting it on would have seemed a bit obnoxious in your eyes. But this morning the weatherman had mentioned a chilly breeze. It wouldn’t hurt.

Arms through their designated holes, you left the apartment and started the walk to the outskirts of town. It wasn’t too far of a walk, maybe thirty, forty minutes at the most. You thanked yourself for wearing the jacket. A “chilly breeze” was an understatement. A few families and couples were dotted among the trails of the nature center that wound near and over the small creek. You passed by them all until you came to a spot that was deserted. Resting your legs, you sat on a bench with your back to the trees. The sun was shining up above. The only noise seemed to come from the rustling leaves and trickling creek. It was peaceful, just what you needed.

With your bag beside you, you took out a piece of paper with yesterday’s notes and started to review them. Some of the words were smudged and the edges were already crinkling, but you could make most of it out. The paper flopped in the wind. You thought you had a good enough grip on it, but a gust of air proved you wrong.

The paper went flying over your head and straight for the trees. Panic made you jump up, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you ran after it. The wind – now relentless – was enough to keep the paper continuously out of your reach.

It finally came to a stop when it caught on a tree root sticking out in the ground. You snatched the paper up and stuffed it into the bag to keep it from running away again. Straightening up again, your eyes settled on the horizon.

Then you screamed.

**

Yixing’s eyes snapped open.

He was no longer a wolf. He was human again. Sitting up, he brushed off the leaves from his arms. What time was it? Was it even the same day? He’d blacked out again. At this point, it was almost routine. His only consolation prize being the fact that he was alone. He still needed to figure out what was happening to him. He wasn’t ready to take this to his brothers. There was enough to worry about at the moment.

Getting on his feet, Yixing headed in the direction of where his things were stored. In order to avoid the others wanting to run with him, he’d entered the forest from a different area, storing his things in a bush to get back to later. He flicked his jeans to get the dirt off before pulling them on and then stuffing his feet in his shoes.

A piercing cry for cut through the air.

The hair on the back of Yixing’s neck stood up.

“Help! Somebody help!”

It was your voice.

He gasped. Then he took off. If anything happened to you-

Yixing skidded to a stop when he saw you kneeling in the grass. A body was laying in front of you, the clothes ripped and stained dark. It was lying face down, but Yixing could tell that it was a man and that he’d been attacked.

“(Y/n), what happened?”

You stared at him with wide, confused eyes. “Yixing? What are you doing here?”

He ignored your question, more worried about your own wellbeing. “What happened?” he repeated.

You shook your head as you dropped your eyes to the man lying on the ground. “I don’t know. I just found him like this. He’s still breathing but I’m not strong enough to move him.”

Yixing analyzed the situation. His car was only on the other side of the trees. The man was still alive. From Yixing’s point of view, he could make it, but they needed to act fast. Slipping his arms under the man while careful not to move him too much, he picked the man up and motioned with his head for you to follow.

He said nothing and you asked no questions as the tree line broke. Yixing scanned the parking lot of the nature center until he found his car. He rushed to the vehicle with a few glances over his shoulder to make sure you were keeping up with him.

“(y/n)?”

“Yeah?” You were huffing. Had he been running? He’d tried to go at a pace that you could keep up with.

“In my front right pocket are my keys. Can you fish them out and unlock the doors?”

You nodded. Yixing could feel your fingers trembling as they slipped into the denim opening. The shaking was even more obvious once the keys were free, the house and car keys clinking together as you searched for the fob to unlock the doors. Without prompt, you opened the back door to allow Yixing to slip the man into the bench seat. He told you to get in the front. You tossed him the keys and the two of you rushed to the hospital.

A pair of doctors rushed out of the automatic doors as soon as the car pulled into the emergency entrance.

“We found him in the woods,” Yixing explained. The doctors quickly examined the man as two more nurses came out with a stretcher.

“I think that animal attacked him,” you added.

Yixing’s eyes flickered over to you with worry. The doctors nodded in acknowledgement then helped the nurses move the man to the stretcher. The two of you followed closely but were forced to stay behind in the waiting room. Yixing sat next to you in the uncomfortable plastic chairs that were connected to the wall.

“You never answered the question.”

Yixing frowned. “What question?”

You turned to look at him with your eyebrows furrowed, making him want to reach out and smooth the creases they created. “What you were doing out in the woods.”

Yixing stiffened. He pressed his foot into the tile floor to keep it from bouncing. “I was… hiking.”

“Without a shirt?”

He looked down. Crap. He hadn’t even realized that he wasn’t finished getting dressed before he took off. “I get warm easily.”

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously. Yixing fought to keep his face neutral. It was a pathetic excuse, he knew it. But you didn’t call him out on it. Instead, you leaned forward, unzipping the polyester bomber that was easily recognizable as his own, taking it off, and holding it out to him.

“I’m fine,” Yixing said, ignoring the jacket.

“You really should put it on. I heard the front desk call the cops. They’ll be here soon, and it’ll look suspicious. What would you tell them the reason was for you not having a shirt?”

A cheeky answer came to mind. Yixing bit down to hold it back, even if it would have caused your face to heat up in an adorable fashion. The instinct of making sure his mate was okay was almost too great to ignore. You were the one who needed to stay warm, stay protected. But you had a valid point. And you were inside, out of the wind. So, he accepted the jacket and ran the zipper almost up to his neck to hide the lack of shirt underneath.

The police arrived about twenty minutes later. They separated you, making him anxious. Over the next hour or so, Yixing gave his side of the story to the officer. They took him at his word that he was strolling through the woods. The doctors had already informed the officers that the wounds were clearly animal made. While severe, they weren’t life threatening. That gave Yixing a small amount of relief.

“Would you two like to see him?” one of the nurses asked another hour later. You nodded eagerly. Yixing stayed a bit behind as the nurse led you through the halls to a large room that held several beds separated by plastic curtains.

The man was awake. Black stitches covered his arms. Three claw marks ran down the left cheek. From what Yixing knew of the other victims, this guy was lucky. He was talking to a nurse when he looked to see who his visitors were. As soon as his eyes landed on Yixing, the heart monitor spiked and his breathing quickened.

“Hey, it’s okay, these are the people who found you,” the nurse said to try and calm him down.

“Oh.” The man’s heart rate started to slow again. Each breath was deeper until they were back to normal. “I’m sorry.”

“How are you feeling?” you asked, taking a step forward. Yixing fought the urge to put himself between you and the man you’d rescued. He was probably harmless, but he had also been through a traumatic situation.

The man nodded. “I’m… alive, at least. Thank you.”

You gave a small smile. “I’m glad I came along when I did. Did you,” you bit your bottom lip nervously, “happen to see what attacked you?”

Yixing held his breath.

“It was a large gray wolf,” the man answered. “Huge. Like a mutated one you would see in the movies. He came from nowhere, knocked me down. I thought I was going to end up like the others as he clawed at me. Then he was gone.”

Yixing’s fist tightened at his side, his throat constricting. He forced down a swallow. He couldn’t panic. Not here.

You frowned. “I wonder what scared him off.”

“Maybe you did?” Yixing said with a slight tease. It was more to keep his own mental state calm than for the benefit of everyone else.

“I’m not that frightening.”

“Whatever it was,” the man shook his head, “I’m thankful.”

“He should really rest now,” the nurse said sternly. Yixing nodded in agreement and, after the goodbyes were given, led you away.

Once outside of the hospital, Yixing stopped you. “I can take you home.”

“That’s okay,” you countered, “I can walk.”

He didn’t like that one bit. Besides, he really needed you by his side right now. “Where do you live?”

“In an apartment near campus.”

No way. “That’s nearly halfway across the city. I can take you. It’s not a big deal.”

You shifted form foot to foot, refusing to meet his eye. “I don’t… really like cars.”

“You made it here alright.”

“That’s because I was too worried about him to think about it. The adrenaline blocked everything out.”

“I’m a safe driver, I promise.”

“I believe you. I just-” You blew air out between your lips, which ended in a growl. It was actually kind of cute. Yixing pushed back a grin. It wasn’t appropriate right now. “My parents were killed in a car crash, so they kind of freak me out.” You sucked in your lips as if you hadn’t meant to reveal that vital information.

Oh. That explained… a lot actually. At least, in terms of what you had been holding back from him. He never wanted to push, but he felt better knowing more about you.

“I understand,” he said sympathetically. “Can I walk you home then? I can come back for my car later.”

You shook your head. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Maybe so. But I need to make sure that you get home safe.”

You weighed his alternative for a minute or so. Yixing kept his patience. He refused to push you farther than you were willing to go. He just needed to see you walk safely into your building and then he would be okay until he saw you again.

“Okay,” you sighed. “You can drive me home.” He could have leapt with joy.

Yixing waited for you to get in the car before sliding behind the wheel himself. The death grip you had on the side handle didn’t escape his notice. He made sure to slow down easily and to take each turn with care. The only words you spoke were to give him directions. It wasn’t until the car was in park outside of your building did you finally relax.

“Thank you,” you told him in a strained voice.

“Any time.”

“I’m sorry if I was a little dramatic. I—” the growl of your empty stomach interrupted your speech. You groaned from embarrassment. Yixing couldn’t help his laugh.

Knock, knock, knock.

Leaning over and looking through the passenger window of his car was a strange girl Yixing had never seen before. He rolled down the window barely enough to be able hear what she was saying.

“How the hell did you get (y/n) into a car?” the girl gasped. You visibly cringed in the seat, sinking down a few inches.

Yixing blinked, unsure of how to respond. “Um, I—”

“Yixing, this is my roommate, Ran,” you interrupted, saving him. “Ran, this is Yixing. We have class together.”

“Oh!” The inclination behind her exclamation was more than obvious. And Yixing didn’t object to it. “I just ordered pizza and I know (y/n) usually gets hungry around this time. Do you want to join us?”

You flashed your roommate a panicked look, but Yixing couldn’t resist the opportunity. “That sounds great.” He caught you flinching, so he added, “As long as (y/n)’s okay with it.”

“Yeah,” you relented. “It’s the least I could do. For the ride.” You flashed an annoyed glare at Ran before getting out of the vehicle.

Yixing shouldn’t be this elated as he nearly sprung from the driver’s seat. He walked around the car slowly and let you and Ran lead the way, in case you changed your mind. You didn’t, thankfully, and Yixing walked up to your door with anticipation so great that he almost was able to forget what the man had said back at the hospital.

Almost.

[ambitionsource]

AMBITION Season 3 ♫ “Jolly Holiday, Part 1” [ 3.13 ]

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

GOD SAVE THE DREAM – The A class embarks on their senior class trip. Charlie graduates high school. The lingering wait for college admissions has some on edge, and one person receives difficult news. Lucas’s UC interview is thrown into jeopardy.

73 Minutes (36K words) || No content warnings apply.

[ ← Dylan and Asher ] [ S3 Synopsis ] [ Jolly Holiday, Part 2 → ]

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - NIGHT

The Adams lobby is packed for a typical evening, members of the A class gathered with a decent amount of luggage. Some chat with their parents and pass off last-minute things; RANDALL ORLANDO hands DYLAN ORLANDO his passport, which he accepts with a sheepish grin while ASHER GARCIA heaves a great sigh of relief.

HARPER BURGESS weaves her way around with a checklist, greeting each student and marking them present. We continue even deeper into the school, away from the hustle and bustle…

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - NIGHT

To the comparatively quiet counselor’s office, though ERIC MATTHEWS does not seem peaceful. He’s harried as he digs through paperwork at his desk, muttering to himself and stuffing everything into a pretty dense binder labeled “SENIOR TRIP - A CLASS.”

JACK HUNTER appears in the doorway, watching for a few moments with an amused smile on his face. Then he knocks lightly on the open door, leaning in the doorframe. Eric jumps, only making Jack smile wider.

Jack: So B class left for their trip this morning, A class is gearing up now… and how are you doing? You seem good. Relaxed.

Eric: Don’t even. Don’t start with me.

Jack, innocently: [ unable to stop grinning ] What?

Eric: B class was simple. B class was easy -- they’re always easy. We let them choose where they wanted to go, and what did they pick? Disney World. Easy. Stuffed them onto a charter bus and shipped them down the coast with Norton and the chaperones this morning. Easy.

Jack: Should get some good exposure to the industry. They’re doing the backstage tour, right? I’ve heard it’s illuminating.

Eric: Then we let A class pick, and did they go simple? Did they go easy? No. Because they’re never simple. They are never easy. No, they wanted to go abroad. [ with a withering look ] This is all your fault.

Jack: [ with a scoff ] Me? Why me?

Eric: You’re the one who approved the trip! Sure, let them cross the Atlantic, you said. It’ll be fun, Eric, you said.

Jack: And I’m sure it will be.

Eric: Yes, and easy for you to say, since you’re not going. I’m the one who has to make sure none of them die, or go missing, or violate international law --

Jack laughs, sauntering further into the room and reassuring Eric that it’ll be fine. Once they get through the logistical nightmare that is travel, they’re going to have a swell time. Besides, at least he’s not doing it alone.

Jack: You’ll be fine. You’re a great leader, and the kids trust you. You won��t let one get set adrift across the pond.

Eric: We literally lost two students at prom last year.

Jack: And now one of them is your daughter. Doubt she’ll be nearly as much trouble. And you’ll have Harper with you, who you know is an excellent chaperone. I mean, count your blessings -- at least you’re not traveling with Shawn.

True, true… talk about a negligent chaperone. Eric shudders at the thought, shaking his head and finishing securing his travel binder. Jack observes him and contemplates the best way to change topics. He leans forward casually against the back of the chair opposite Eric’s desk, going for nonchalant.

Jack: Speaking of your impeccable leadership… I’ve been thinking. You should consider applying for my job.

Eric stops what he’s doing. He lifts his head, eyes wide.

Eric: What?

Jack, quickly: I just think it could be a good exercise, that’s all. Good practice.

Eric: Don’t be ridiculous. You know they’re going to hand that job back to you no contest -- no matter how hard Yancy and Jefferson campaign under the table.

Jack: Sure, sure. Absolutely. [ a beat ] But that’s all the more reason to use this opportunity. I mean, you’re an ideal candidate, given your history with the school. Evelyn likes you just as much as me --

Eric: Not true. You are by far her favorite.

Jack: And you’ve got all the credentials. I know you like being a counselor, and don’t get me wrong, you’re damn good at it. But why take all those masters courses to get the certification if you never considered using them?

Jack has a point there. Though their paths were quite different leading to where they are now, with different levels of study, Eric is technically (and definitely) qualified to apply if he wanted. As for if he wants to… Jack’s guidance certainly seems to have him thinking, if nothing else.

Jack: Anyway, it was just a suggestion. No pressure, you know. Just think about it. Filling out the application. Seeing what it’s like.

Eric: As if I don’t have enough to think about right now. How is yours going? Pretty easy to put together I’m guessing.

Ah, yes… Jack sidesteps the question, claiming he’s just putting on the finishing touches. Which he’ll have plenty of time to do while the school is quiet and the A class is out of his hair for a week. Eric says lucky him, which prompts a chuckle from both of them.

Once the laughter peters out, the moment becomes unexpectedly soft -- just shared smiles and momentary quiet. Eric clears his throat.

Eric: You’re sure you can’t come? Think now would be the time to have my authoritarian.

A little vacation abroad would sure be nice… but alas. Important business to handle here. Jack offers a bittersweet shrug, nodding to the rest of the school behind them.

Jack: Duty calls. Should enjoy it while it lasts.

While he’s still principal, may as well act like it. Eric sighs, but accepts that, hefting his colossal trip binder into his hiking backpack.

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY

By the steps, MAYA HART finishes repacking her suitcase, trying to get it under the acceptable weight limit. ISADORA DE LA CRUZ is doing her the favor of sitting on top of it, while FARKLE MINKUS eyes the undertaking skeptically.

Farkle: It’s a class trip, Maya. How many pairs of shoes do you need?

Maya: It’s an affront that you even have to ask that question.

Isadora: It’s an affront that this thing weighs more than me.

Farkle: Probably more than both of us combined.

Isadora: You don’t add much.

Touché! Isadora is also going through Maya’s purse, making a face when she pulls out a folded up piece of paper. Maya’s acceptance letter to NYU Tisch.

Isadora: You carry this around in your purse?

Maya: Be careful with that!

She snatches it from her, smoothing out the corners.

Maya: You’ll crumple the edges. But yes, why wouldn’t I? It’s my greatest achievement to date -- sans your mom’s coat, of course. I like to think of it like a good luck charm. My aura cleanser even did a fortune ceremony on it, so it’s legit. [ marveling at it ] Look at it. Isn’t it lovely?

She gives it a little kiss, folding it back up and putting it back in the purse on Isadora’s lap. Isadora and Farkle exchange a look.

Farkle: At this rate, getting rejected might’ve been healthier for your sanity.

Maya flips her hair over her shoulder pointedly, shrugging. Too late now!

A few paces over, RILEY MATTHEWS double checks her backpack to make sure she has all her essential belongings. It’s her first time going overseas, and she’s clearly a bit nervous. But she’s got her ways to combat it, including a well-curated list -- one that LUCAS JAMES FRIAR walks through with her as she goes. He reads down the list, she confirms she’s got it.

Lucas, notably, doesn’t have a backpack or suitcase to fuss over. That’s because he isn’t going, a fact that Riley sympathetically remarks on once they’ve concluded her checklist. She takes his hands in hers.

Riley: I wish you were coming with us. It’s not going to feel right if you’re not there.

Lucas: Actually, I think it would feel wrong if I were there. Like some kind of weird, nonsensical blip in the universe.

Riley: Oh, please…

Lucas: I’m not cultured and I don’t have any money. Traveling out of state seems pretty out of character, let alone out of the country. Think I’d get sent to the embassy as an international prisoner just for existing.

Riley nudges him pointedly, earning a smirk in response. It’s too cute not to mirror with a smile of her own, but it doesn’t quite remove the melancholy from her tone.

Riley: I just… I feel bad. You should be there, you’re class president. And you know… with everything that’s happened in the last few weeks, I don’t wanna like… just leave --

Lucas: Riley. Seriously, it’s fine. I’m fine. And spending some time on my own is not going to be the thing that kills me. That’s how I used to prefer it.

Riley: I know, I know… before Comet Riley.

Lucas: And the world has never been the same. Look, I know it’s gonna sound insane when I say this, given my track record on… well, everything, but you don’t have to worry about me.

Easier said than done… but she knows in her heart he’s right. And even if she wanted to debate it, she runs out of time, as Jack and Eric march out from the hall and start rallying the troops to head out for the airport. Big journey ahead!

Harper: All right, everybody, grab your things -- all your things, double-check and make sure, yes I’m looking at you, Orlando --

Dylan: And I don’t blame you!

Asher: I’m triple-checking.

Harper: Then let’s move on out! It’s a brief bus ride to the airport and then a long eight hours to fly. Don’t want to be late!

Riley gears up to go, Lucas grabbing her backpack off the ground and helping her sling it on her shoulders. She reminds him not to forget about the favor she asked him to do while she’s gone, which he confirms. Then she remembers something else at the last second, quickly turning to face him again.

Riley: Oh, and tell me the moment you hear anything from Davis. I know the connection is gonna be spotty because we’ll only be able to talk on wi-fi, but seriously, if you hear anything, try to reach me. They have to say something any day now.

Oh, so Lucas hasn’t told her about the acceptance letter... or the potential scholarship… he pauses when the moment arises, then nods, assuring her he’ll do just that.

Riley: I’ll try to do the same for Tisch, if I hear from them, but you know, again, spotty connections --

Harper: Let’s go, Riley! Mister Friar will still be here when you get back!

Riley blushes, starting to back up towards the others as Lucas playfully urges her to go. But then she doubles back one more time, pulling him into a kiss goodbye. The moment lingers when they pull apart, Riley gently caressing his cheeks and holding his gaze.

Riley, softly but with intent: I love you.

Just in case he needs the reminder -- to tide him over for the week. Then she’s off, throwing him one last smile over her shoulder and blowing a kiss before she jogs to catch up with the rest of the class towards the back entrance where the bus awaits.

Jack comes to stand next to Lucas, the two of them watching the others head out. Jack smiles knowingly at the exchange he just witnessed, and clears his throat presumably to comment.

Lucas: Don’t say anything.

Jack: … all right.

His tickled smirk says plenty for him anyway.

INT. JFK INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - SECURITY CHECKPOINT - NIGHT

Before the fun can begin, though, they’ve got to get there -- and that might be the most stressful part. Eric waits on the other side of security and customs, counting off each student as they successfully make it through the process. He’s splitting his focus between that and making sure the ones who have already made it through don’t rush off.

Eric: Fourteen… fifteen -- techies, I said stay put until we’re all accounted for! Asher, will you please bring Nate back into formation? Sixteen -- Maya, do not argue with the customs agent!

Maya successfully makes it through, albeit in a huff, followed by SARAH CARLSON, DARBY WINTERS, and finally Harper to close out the group. She and Eric touch base.

Harper: Full count?

Eric: Full count. Thank God.

Harper: Well, at least the hard part’s over.

Eric: Yeah, keep telling yourself that. Just wait until we have to get them back in one piece.

They’re already exhausted. This should be international levels of fun.

Cue title sequence.

INT. JFK INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - TERMINAL - NIGHT

Eric and Harper have disbanded the group to explore the terminal, gathering rations and any necessary items for the journey. The techie boys are assembled just outside the entrance of Hudson News, eyeing some of the stuff on display.

Jeff: Y’all brought outlet adapters, right? You know their voltage is different than ours.

Dave, stunned: The Brits have their own electricity?! I am never gonna survive the culture shock.

Yogi: [ re: “shock” ] Literally.

Nate: Oh, bro, I know. And what if we don’t speak the language?

Dave: I know! I’m fucked!

NATE MARTINEZ cracks up, JEFF MONROE and NICK YOGI assuaging DAVE WILLIAMS’s concerns.

Moving past them, closer to the gate where their flight will be departing from, we shift focus to ZAY BABINEAUX. Next to him YINDRA AMINO is engaged in a seemingly riveting conversation with HALEY FISHER and CLARISSA CRUZ, but Zay isn’t paying attention. He’s zoned out, glued to his phone instead.

He’s logged into his application portal for Turner. His status still says “pending,” even weeks later when many people have already heard back. He keeps refreshing the page, willing it to change, yet of course it does not. He sighs, swiping the window up and away and landing back on the previous app he had open.

His messages app, and a specific contact at that. His text thread with Charlie, which had been steadily growing back to a healthy rapport but has essentially gone silent since his Turner audition. Since Zay kissed him, like an idiot, and then ran away like a coward.

It’s clear Zay wants that to be different. He wants there to be rapport, to break the ice he stupidly created, but he’s at a loss for how. Not to mention, he kind of figured Charlie would say something… maybe that’s stupid, given it’s Charlie, but it feels wrong to be the one to bother him when he’s the one who encroached on their lines in the sand.

Just another thing frozen in time, stuck “pending.” Zay frowns, slouching further in his seat.

Riley comes to join him with food for them to share, plopping down in the seat next to him. He quickly locks his phone, but it’s honestly not even worth the rush -- with his obsession lately, she already has her guess as to what he was looking at.

Riley: I hate to be the one to deliver this news, but you realize we’re not going to have much access to wi-fi on the trip? You’re not going to be able to check your email obsessively while we’re there. Such a tragedy... 

Zay: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Gimme my French fries.

Riley hands them over, eyeing his leg impatiently bouncing a mile a minute. She remarks he’s got plenty of energy stored up now clearly, so good thing he’s finally clear to dance again. He snorts, derisively eating a fry.

Zay: Yeah, just when I needed it -- oh, no, wait. That was weeks ago…

Riley: Still, you’re happy, aren’t you? I know I am. I can’t wait to see you dance again for real.

Zay: You’re unfailingly sweet, thanks. And yeah, of course I’m happy I got the all clear. It really just feels like… I mean, if it could’ve been a couple weeks sooner --

Riley: But there’s nothing you can do about it now. It’s done. And if it took Turner this long to contact you --

Zay: Reject me.

Riley: Then there’s nothing to say it’s going to happen any second we’re abroad on this trip. All this to say [ pretending to pull a cord from his forehead ] disconnect. I think you’ll have more fun if you do.

Zay: Maybe.

Riley: Besides, it’s not like you’re the only one who hasn’t heard back. It’s not totally out of the norm. I mean, Lucas hasn’t heard from Davis, I’m waiting on Tisch...

Yeah… interesting how Riley seems so calm and unbothered by that. Zay points out as much, that she is handling the whole uncertainty thing remarkably well. She shrugs. It’s hard to tell if she genuinely isn’t that invested, or if she’s just keeping her expectations low to avoid disappointment.

Point is, they’re about to go abroad for the first time, so they should focus on that rather than getting stuck on all the stuff here. Zay doesn’t argue with that perspective.

Zay: Believe me, I’m more than ready to get away from things in New York for a while.

Nonchalant as that statement is, Riley is smarter than that. She raises her eyebrows, immediately asking what’s going on aside from Turner that he’s trying to avoid. Zay focuses on his food instead, which only tips her off more. And she had noticed that conversation between him and Charlie seemed to have died down in the last couple weeks…

Riley: Oh my God. Did something happen? [ with dread ] You’re not fighting again, are you?

Zay: No. And we were never fighting.

Riley looks more than ready to disagree with that, but Zay cuts her off. Every time she tries to dig deeper, he dodges, nuh-uhing her until she gives up. If there is something going on, he’s clearly not going to talk about it.

And he’s not the only one. At the gate, Isadora sits on her own, headphones on as she watches something on her phone. Eric sits down next to her and greets her, but Isadora doesn’t notice. With a sigh, Eric taps Isadora on the shoulder. She jumps and looks up at Eric with wide eyes, pausing the video and moving her headphones to rest around her neck.

Eric: Enjoying yourself? [ a beat; Isadora shrugs ] How are you feeling about everything? The last time you flew or traveled a significant amount was for Valerie’s funeral. 

Isadora, dryly: I really appreciate the reminder.

When Eric doesn’t move on, but instead continues to wait for a proper response, Isadora shifts from her sarcastic defense system to allow a bit of vulnerability. 

Isadora: It’s difficult. I only used to fly between LA and New York, either because she wanted me back or had given up on me again. I feel like I did back then -- will this time work? Will I be accepted and loved? I know I’m not going to see her, but my anxiety isn’t really listening to that fact.

Eric nods in understanding and says that he expected as much. He suggests that she continue to challenge the thoughts, and keep herself distracted. 

Isadora: Kind of hard when all your friends are talking about where to go to college and your dad is asking you how you feel about your mom being dead. 

Eric: Fair enough. Should I just leave you alone, then? Or do you want to play an airport game? Guess Who, I Spy, that sort of thing.

Isadora considers this. 

Isadora: We could try to name as many of the periodic elements as we can. 

Eric: Maybe we should find Farkle for that one.

As Eric looks around, Isadora chuckles and tells him that it’s fine. She’s happy watching a documentary about whether we’re all living in a simulation or not. Seems like a great way to distract from anxiety…

Eric leaves Isadora alone, passing JADE BEAMON and NIGEL CHEY as he goes. They sit together at the gate, across from Isadora, sharing a bag of candy and excitedly discussing what they’re going to do on the trip. Nigel is particularly enthused about one location on their itinerary, his nerdom on full display.

Nigel: I mean, it’s Stratford-Upon-Avon. Birthplace of Shakespeare!

Jade, fondly: I know, I know.

Nigel: You don’t go to Shakespeare camp twelve years in a row only to not appreciate the chance to see the holy ground. It’s like… pilgrimage.

Jade: And don’t I feel blessed to witness it. Think seeing you see it is going to be more interesting than the place itself.

Nigel shrugs bashfully. Jade splits a piece of candy in two and hands half to him, which he happily accepts.

Nigel: Gotta say, yeah, it’s extra special considering I get to see such an important place with such an important person.

Jade’s turn to blush. She concurs, though, the two of them agreeing a lot of the excitement for the trip is just in that they get to be on it together. They’ve got it all planned out, how they’re going to spend as much time as possible taking in the sights together. Nothing but experiences to have, culture to absorb… just the two of them…

Well, not quite. Their quiet conversation is interrupted as the techie boys descend upon them, loudly and enthusiastically pouncing on Jade from behind as they crash into the row of seats backed against theirs. She jumps in surprise, then makes a deadpan expression as they all immediately start talking at once.

Jeff: All stocked up for the trip.

Nate: Check it, Pins N’ Needs! Got enough jelly beans in these pockets to last a lifetime, baby! And I’m packing major Double Bubble.

Dave: Jeff helped me pick out a travel adaptation --

Yogi: Aren’t your pockets going to get sticky?

Nate: You let me worry about that. You just wait ‘til I start blowing bubbs at 30,000 feet.

Dave: [ holding out the adapter to show Jade ] So I don’t get zapped by the British electricity.

Jeff: They’re going to throw you out the emergency exit.

Nate: Good thing I’ll have my Double Bubble to keep me airborne!

Jade, sharply: Boys. [ off their silence ] Don’t you remember what we talked about before we left? That little agreement we discussed about this trip?

Nate, Dave, Jeff, and Yogi exchange a look, thinking… then their glances shift to Nigel. He looks overwhelmed, not yet used to the usual techie tot rapid-fire, but he offers an awkward smile.

Ohhh, right. Jade is with Nigel. Simple agreement -- leave her alone.

Nate: Oh, riiiiight. Right, right.

Yogi: Quite right, luv.

Jeff: Don’t mind us. We’ll just be over here. Minding our own business.

Nate: Looking the other way.

Dave: Leaving you alone so you can be with your boyfriend.

Dave! Not so loud! Nate and Yogi tug Dave around so they’re facing the other direction, feigning disinterest and leaving Jade be. She releases a long breath through her nose, then offers Nigel a smile. He was saying?

Flight attendant, voiceover: Attention passengers. Flight 0103 to Heathrow begins boarding in just a few minutes…

INT. AIRPLANE - NIGHT

Passengers clog the aisles and rummage around their seats as boarding resumes, all the way towards the back of the plane where the A class basically has domain over the last few rows. Riley, Dylan, and Asher take up a row of three, avidly chatting as they buckle in. Harper is helping direct them to their proper seats, noting that they’re welcome to swap seats with each other if they wish only once they’re settled and within their share of the plane.

That’s news to Nigel -- and good news at that. He perks up from his seat in front of Yindra and Zay (paired by the window on the left side), then makes eye contact with Jade still hovering in the aisle making her way down to board. Yindra gasps.

Yindra: No way. Nigel Chey, are you ditching us?

Nigel: You’re sitting together. I’m not. I’m the third front wheel.

Zay: But you’re with us in our hearts. You’d really toss us aside so callously to sit with your girlfriend?

Nigel: You are the last person who should be making that accusation, or did you forget freshman year? [ off Yindra’s snort ] But to answer your question --

Jade catches his eye, nodding her head towards a couple of seats just two down in front of Zay and Yindra. Nigel spots an opportunity as Isadora starts to settle in, leaping for it.

Nigel: Yep. See you in London.

Zay and Yindra boo him as he jumps forward in the aisle, getting Isadora’s attention and asking if she’d be willing to swap seats. She hesitates, then sees Chai coming down the aisle behind Jade, and something compels her to agree. Nigel happily passes off his ticket and settles into her spot, waiting for Jade to make it next to him.

Only somehow there’s a mix-up, and things don’t go quite as planned. Just as Jade arrives at their row, Eric pops over. He’s surprised Nigel is seated there -- he was under the impression Isadora was supposed to be in this seat, but he digresses -- and he explains that somehow his ticket got mixed up and he’s ended up in the middle of one of the four-seat rows in the center. But he’s an older gentleman, as they know, and he isn’t sure a cramped flight sitting like that for seven hours will be very healthy… so would Jade be so kind as to be willing to swap with him so he can have the aisle?

Well... what are they gonna do, say no to their counselor? Jade sheepishly agrees, spinning to look at where Eric says is his old seat. Naturally, it’s smack in the middle of the techie boys.

Jade: You’ve got to be kidding me…

She makes her walk of shame over to them, the boys greeting her enthusiastically. Jade! Pins N’ Needles, back at it again! Eric settles down into the spot next to Nigel, giving him a friendly smile. Nigel returns it weakly, then glances over his shoulder -- Yindra and Zay are silently laughing at him, giving him cheeky middle fingers. That’s what he gets!

And, despite her quick moves, somehow Isadora has ended up with Chai as her seat partner. Chai seems enthused about it, but Isadora less so. She kind of tunes out even as Chai tries to chat with her, curling closer towards the window. Chai can obviously tell this isn’t typical girlfriend behavior, and thinks about saying something, but Isadora pulls her headphones back on.

Not much to be done about that, then. Chai tries to brush it off as nothing -- just travel nerves, maybe -- pulling out her book.

In a pair of seats to the right behind Harper, Maya and Farkle are settling in. She’s being oddly snippy with him, putting on a thin air of aloof as she questions whether he’s accepted his admission to USC yet. Ever since she found out about the business card, she’s been prodding him about it every day.

Farkle: I haven’t made any decisions yet. For the thousandth time.

Maya isn’t satisfied with that answer. She curtly says -- not for the first time -- that if she had an opportunity flying into her lap like that, she certainly wouldn’t be hesitating to take it. It’s deranged, is what it is. Self-sabotaging, perhaps. Farkle rolls his eyes at her theatrics, leaning back into his seat and knocking his head back.

Farkle: This is going to be a long flight.

Maya: Farkle, darling, you’re my best friend -- it’s going to be a long life.

You got him there, Maya! And with that, we’re ready for take off --

EXT. AIRPLANE - NIGHT

Night passes and brightens to day as the airbus makes its way over the Atlantic, making a timely and early descent into the United Kingdom. As the pilot’s voice welcomes us to London over the intercom, we get our first sprawling, establishing shots of the commonwealth.

INT. HEATHROW INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - DAY

The A class emerges through customs and gathers their things at the luggage carousel, grateful to be able to stretch their legs and move freely. Dylan does some cartwheels to loosen up -- guess the American circus really has arrived! Yindra and Zay pick on Nigel when they reunite with their bags. Did he enjoy his flight with Eric, his best friend?

Nigel: I will have both of you know that Counselor Eric is a lovely conversationalist. You can stay mad.

Oh, ho ho! Big talk! Eric passes him and thanks him for the compliment, embarrassing Nigel and causing Zay and Yindra to crack up. Then he beckons them all out towards the bus -- it’s time to kick this trip off for real!

EXT. LONDON - VARIOUS LOCATIONS - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “London Calling” as performed by The Clash || Performed by AAA Seniors

The A class file onto a double decker BUS as the guitar and drums start, a friendly if bland tour guide called SIMON greeting them once they’ve all taken seats on the open top deck. He’ll stay with them for the entire trip, but the double decker bus is only for today. 

They set off around the streets of London, the unofficial British anthem the soundtrack for our montage of them enjoying -- and exploring -- the views. They drive past the electric billboards of Piccadilly, Cleopatra’s needle, a large statue of Queen Victoria -- all the while taking pictures and listening to Simon’s narration of the city (which, perhaps thankfully, we can’t hear).

As they drive past Trafalgar Square, we cut to them exploring that same location. They’re sped up to match the tempo of the song and the chaotic nature that is tourist sightseeing tours. The techie boys sit atop the iconic lion statues while Maya, Farkle, Riley, Isadora and Zay walk in a line in unison to the beat, heads bobbing and knees bent like Madness in the One Step Beyond music video and cover art.

Back in the bus, we see that while Jade and Nigel managed to sit together this time, they’re both peacefully snoozing. Yindra laughs and takes a picture of them.

They pass the Tower of London and the Tower Bridge, then we see them arrive at the British Museum. 

Simon, flatly: I’m very excited to show you all the many things that British colonists stole from people all around the world and that we still refuse to give back to the rightful owners.

We see members of the A class posing in front of various different statues and artifacts throughout the museum -- Maya and Yindra with the Pharaohs of Egypt; Dave and Nate with the Easter Island head; Nigel and Jade with the Rosetta Stone; Farkle, Isadora, Riley, Asher and Dylan mimicking the poses of the Elgin Marbles as best they can considered each figure is missing a significant amount of limbs; Sarah, Darby and Chai in front of the painting Dancers Practising at the Barre by Edgar Degas.

We return to Trafalgar Square to see Nate being chased by two BOBBIES, one of whom is missing his hat. Nate shouts gleefully as he runs past his classmates, police hat proudly on top of his head. He provides the “ow ow ow owww!”

Eric struggles to keep up with the bobbies and pauses to catch his breath. Riley hands him her water bottle. 

The bus drives past Buckingham Palace while Maya teaches everybody how to do the royal wave. Then the Science Museum, which Simon seems more much interested in. Farkle and Isadora are hot on his heels. We see the enormous dinosaur skeletons, the great whale, the wacky mirrors that distort your image, the escalator that takes you up into the centre of a volcano.

By the time the class are climbing back onto the bus after the science museum, they’re full of energy, excitedly chatting while Harper and Eric drudge behind them. Simon, on the other hand, shows no signs of either energy or lack thereof -- or any emotions at all, really.

The class groove on top of the bus, dancing around and laughing together while Nate provides more wolf calls. They shout-sing the lyrics together, having the time of their lives. 

With the very last clash of the drums, Nate tosses the police hat back to the bobbies and sprints away with the other techie boys, cracking up. 

We’re in for one exciting trip, folks!

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Back in the states, a perfectly normal school day at Adams is progressing as usual. Only the news that Lucas shares with Jack as they sit in their usual spots across from one another is far from it -- he informs him about his tentative admission to Davis, and that he’s up for a potential scholarship (something he sorely needs). Jack is stunned, then elated, nearly getting to his feet.

Jack: Lucas, that’s fantastic! Congratulations.

Lucas: Um, yeah. Thanks. I mean, doesn’t really matter if I don’t get the money, since I still haven’t made enough on my own and it’s going to take like, everything I’ve got either way, but --

Jack: But still. This is a major accomplishment. I know how hard you worked. You should be proud of yourself.

Lucas is obviously uncomfortable with the effusive praise, as nice as it is. So he brushes it off, shifting instead to the reason why he told Jack in the first place. He was hoping that he could give him a ride to his interview. It’s a ways upstate for some reason, and he’ll never be able to borrow the family car for that long.

Jack is, of course, more than willing to do so… until Lucas mentions the date.

Jack: Tomorrow? [ reluctant ] I’m sorry, I can’t. I already have a prior engagement.

Lucas: Oh… oh.

Well, shit. That’s what you get for hiding your small victories until the last minute. Jack frowns, obviously wishing he had a different answer.

Jack: I’m sorry. If I could shift around these plans, I would, believe me. But it’s not exactly within my control.

Lucas: No, it’s um -- it was my mistake waiting so long to -- no, yeah, it’s cool. Thanks anyway.

Jack: You’ll figure out something else, I’m sure. You’re nothing if not resourceful.

Lucas: Yeah… yeah, definitely.

But Lucas doesn’t seem very convinced. Jack can tell he’s deflated, but there’s not much he can say to improve the situation. Lucas escapes before he can even try, claiming he better get back to class -- he and Shawn have lots of work to do, sitting around doing nothing as the only two left.

EXT. LONDON EYE - DAY

The A class arrive at the final destination of their city tour: the London Eye. It looms above them, slowly going round against the London skyline. It’s a magnificent thing to behold, but the techie boys seem disappointed. 

Nate: Is this it? I thought it was meant to be the best ferris wheel in the world. 

Dylan: It’s barely even moving. Is it broken? 

Dave: Where’s the other eye? Is London a cyclops?

The tour guide listens to these complaints in horror. Eric can only mutter an apology, but Simon takes it in his stride and uses the opportunity to explain the history of the London Eye. Farkle listens keenly while Nate and Dylan ask as many ridiculous questions as they can. Leaving the class in safe hands, Eric and Harper go over to the ticket stand to collect their pre-booked tickets. 

Simon: Does anybody know how many capsules there are on the Eye? 

Chai: Thirty-three, right? 

Simon: Close, but not quite.

Isadora’s hand shoots up. Simon nods at her, allowing her to answer. 

Isadora: There are thirty-two capsules. When numbering them, they skipped thirteen for good luck, so they’re numbered one to twelve, then fourteen to thirty-three. There are thirty-two boroughs in London, so each capsule represents one of them. It’s a common misconception that there are thirty-three boroughs, but the City of London isn’t actually classed as a borough.

Simon: You’re exactly right, Miss De La Cruz! But I will kindly ask you not to take over my job in future. London is a very expensive place to live and I need rent money.

Isadora blushes but has a proud smile on her face. Next to her, Chai looks a little irritated at being shown up, given that she was the London transfer for a whole year. Rather than dwell on it, she returns her attention to Simon, who goes through the thirty-two boroughs that the capsules represent.

On their way back from the ticket stand, Eric and Harper pass a man with a basket full of roses.

Rose seller: What a lovely couple! Miss, wouldn’t you like your boyfriend to get you one of my roses?

He holds out a rose, smiling innocently. Harper and Eric meet eyes and struggle not to laugh.

Harper: We’re both gay.

The man falters, realising his mistake, and steps back to allow them on their way. He spots an actual couple walking towards the queue hand in hand, so skips over towards them. A smattering of the A class watches him go, having tuned out of the history lecture.

Yindra: What a guy. Wouldn’t want to have that job.

Zay: I wouldn’t spit on it. That might be you in Los Angeles in a few months.

Yindra elbows him pointedly. Asher shakes his head, watching the rose seller try to convince another group.

Asher: Could never be me. Walking up to strangers like that is a nightmare.

Dylan: Gotta respect the hustle. I love talking to random people. [ brightly ] Maybe I should do that.

Asher: Please don’t.

Dylan: I could sell my cookies. You’d buy food from a stranger on the street, right?

Zay: That’s what the hot dog vendors in Manhattan do every day and they’re considered a staple. Follow your heart, Orlando.

Jade: I don’t know about street food, but I would totally go for one of the flowers. Those roses are beautiful, look at them.

Nigel takes note of her reaction, but the moment passes pretty quickly. When Eric and Harper rejoin the group, focus drifts back to them. Simon finishes his list of boroughs and Eric takes over, announcing that they have to split up into two groups.

Eric: There would only be enough room for four more people if we were all in a capsule together, and since we didn’t specifically book to have one to ourselves, they’ve asked if we can split up so that we don’t prevent other, smaller groups from being together. 

Maya: That can’t be right. I remember specifically requesting we had a capsule to ourselves in my proposal for the trip schedule.

Eric: If you want to fork over the extra cash, then sure thing.

Maya admits defeat. Eric announces that he’ll take ten of them, and Harper will have nine. But aside from that, they’re all mature enough to sort out the groups themselves.

That’s giving them a lot of credit. Haley and Clarissa cling onto each other for dear life as everyone begins moving around. They stand in front of Harper and stay there, determined not to get split up. Jade and Chai both have the same idea, each trying to get a hold of Nigel and Isadora, respectively. Chai successfully ends up standing in front of Eric along with Isadora, Darby and Sarah, but Jade and Nigel are less fortunate. Yindra loops her arm through Nigel’s and moves him over to Eric’s side where Zay is waiting, while Dave rests his chin on top of Jade’s head, anchoring her to her place by Harper.

Riley, Dylan and Asher are chatting merrily in Eric’s group, while Maya and Farkle are still undecided. Farkle is happy wherever, but Maya is having a hard time picking between being stuck with Dylan and Asher -- but having Isadora, Riley and the plastics -- or being with the rest of the techie boys. She decides that she can just stay on the other side of the capsule as Dasher, and walks towards Isadora and the plastics.

While Maya moves towards them, Isadora realises that she will take them up to eleven, meaning somebody will have to move. Neither Eric nor Harper have realised that Eric’s group is already full. She looks between Chai, who has her back to Isadora while she chats with Darby and Sarah, and Farkle, who frowns as he realises the same thing about the numbers.

He’s about to speak up and call Maya back over to Harper’s side, but Isadora uses the opportunity to get away from a potentially uncomfortable situation and darts over towards him. She grabs Farkle’s wrist and pulls him properly into Harper’s group before he knows what’s happening.

When Maya joins Darby and Sarah, she realises that Isadora is no longer there and turns around. Chai notices the same, both of them frowning in confusion at Isadora. She avoids eye contact with both of them, turning and letting Harper know that the groups are done. 

Harper: Oh, thank you Isadora. Eric, I think we’re ready. 

There’s no chance for anybody to voice their displeasure at the arrangement, with Eric already setting off towards the queue. Farkle looks down at Isadora, confused and a little concerned. 

Farkle: What happened?

Isadora: Hm? Oh, I... noticed that Jade was the only techie girl on this side so I wanted to join her. Maya and I must have ended up swapping somehow.

Farkle doesn’t look convinced, but Jade mumbles a thank you while watching after Nigel.

As they join the queue, Simon waves the group goodbye. Once all of their backs are turned, his customer service smile drops. 

Simon, sighing: Americans…

Americans, indeed.

EXT. LONDON EYE - QUEUE - DAY

Now split up, the A class settles into distracting themselves while waiting in line. Yindra and Riley pass the time by playing I Spy, assuming incorrectly that Zay is paying attention and playing along. But he’s not, staring into space and lost in thought as the girls survey the scenery. It’s like they’re not even in another country -- Zay could just as easily be sitting in Cory’s history class, bored out of his mind, for all the energy he’s giving right now.

Yindra is quick to call him out on it, raising an unimpressed eyebrow when her gaze settles on him during her turn.

Yindra: I spy with my little eye something short, yellow, and boring.

She snaps in front of his face, snapping him out of it. He swats her hand away, Riley laughing along as they point out he is completely on another planet.

Zay: Also, don’t insult me -- this shirt is gold, not yellow. Get it right.

Riley: I thought we agreed at the airport that we were going to live in the moment. Seize the day. Enjoy the trip and not get lost in our own heads.

Yindra: Please, don’t even bother. He’s been like this for weeks. At this point, I’m begging for Turner to get back to him so I can be put out of my misery.

Zay: Look, it’s easy for you to say, all right? You can afford to be chill about it, you don’t have a dream school.

Yindra: That’s right. You know what I’ve got? The dream. And at least in chasing that into the uncertain future, I’m not totally dialing out of right now. Like, we’re in London, Zayby. Drink some tea. Take the tube. Kiss a dude with an accent. Carpe diem.

Yeah, okay, Zay will not be doing that. And he doesn’t need the reminders or reprimands. He gets it, they’re in London, they’re in London, they’re in London… but what does locale matter, really, when your heart, mind, and soul feel thousands of miles away? Always tantalisingly out of your reach?

Suffice to say, it’s not going to be so easy to pry Zay out of his own head -- so for now, well, we’ll just have to go into it with him.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “The Kiss of Venus” as performed by Dominic Fike (feat. Paul McCartney) || Performed by Zay Babineaux

As the music-box-like opening twinkles in, Yindra waves Zay off and gives up on him, letting him drift back into space. And he does, directing his gaze upward towards the giant ferris wheel and the skyline of London behind it.

Yep, they sure are in the UK… as he sings the first opening lines, somewhat detached, we slowly ease in closer to his face…

EXT. LONDON EYE - MIRROR WORLD - DAY

Until we’re close enough that it’s darkness and a blur, then we’re pulling back out, still with Zay as he continues to sing -- only everything’s flipped around. We’re occupying his mindscape, free from the conventions of reality, and with a lot of new ground to discover. He starts walking backwards on the beat, his trendy kicks stomping against the pavement, quickly reminding us that he finally, blissfully has full control of his limbs again.

And with that beautiful fact being the truth, it doesn’t take long for him to break into dance. He launches into movement as he breaks into the first chorus, the scenery of London taking more vivid shape around him.

From there, the performance acts as an artistic, groovy snapshot of this new city we’re suddenly inhabiting. Zay explores iconic landmarks and imagery of London as he goes -- dancing along the edge of the fountain in Trafalgar Square; grooving unapologetically in front of the stone-faced Queen’s Guardsmen stationed in the city; riding center in a crammed tube carriage and staring dead at the camera as he sings.

About a minute in, we’re close on his face again, and he seems to be laying down facing up at us… and as we ease out, we realize he’s not just laying in any old place. He’s on the clock face of Big Ben -- yes, the Big Ben -- his limbs mocking the movement a second hand. As the bridge continues, the screen slowly starts to tilt upright, Zay adjusting with it until he’s balancing sideways on the structure.

And this launches us into the electric second half of the number, where he really leans into the energy, fantasy, and freedom of the performance. Each of his sceneries becomes a little less restrictive and more bent to his creative will -- the tube carriage is empty now, allowing him to swing on the hand rails and climb along the seats; he’s splashing and spinning in the water in the Square; he’s now dancing amidst the whole brigade of the Queen’s Guard as they run through the changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace.

In case the message wasn’t loud and clear already -- we’re in London! We get it! More importantly, it’s so good to see Zay Babineaux moving again. Even as the song peters out and we return back to mundane, rules-of-physics-following reality, there’s a lingering energy from the mere sight of seeing him dance that sprinkles a little more magic into the scenery than before.

INT. LONDON EYE - CAPSULE 1 - DAY

Farkle is getting a good look at the view of the city from so high up, Isadora coming over to join him. She asks if it looks any different from the last time he was here, and he admits he honestly can’t remember. It was a long time ago that his family visited. He asks her a question in return, wondering aloud why she isn’t on the same capsule as Chai.

Farkle: You’d think you would’ve fought a little harder to stay together. You know, given that she’s your girlfriend.

Isadora: [ with a scoff ] It’s not my fault the class got split up. What would you have me do? Bully the tour guide into letting me jump groups?

Farkle: You have bullied less deserving people for less pressing things.

Isadora: No clue what you’re talking about. I’m a fucking delight.

Farkle snorts, earning a playful sneer from her. As charming as her deadpan delivery is, Farkle isn’t completely won over by it. Because what it really signals is that she’s avoiding answering the question, which isn’t like her at all. Farkle tries to dig deeper, asking if everything is okay between her and Chai.

Isadora: Yes. Yeah. Duh. [ defensive ] Why wouldn’t it be?

Farkle: Maybe the fact that you’re standing in this carriage arguing with me rather than enjoying time with her.

Isadora: As if bickering with you isn’t the joy of my existence.

Farkle: I’m not trying to like, judge, or whatever. I’m just asking if --

Isadora: What do you want me to say, Farkle? I said it was fine. I mean, what, do you want there to be a problem? Do you want me to tell you everything’s gone weird and I don’t know how to fix it?

Dangerous questions, Isadora! Don’t ask something like that! She’s asking it in a rhetorical way, totally unaware of the fact that Farkle doesn’t know how to honestly answer that question -- to her, or for himself.

Lucky him, he’s spared from addressing it when their conversation is interrupted. An ELDERLY WOMAN -- the kind who can’t help but share their opinion in an overly friendly way -- breaks away from her ELDERLY HUSBAND to tell them their back-and-forth is really quite loud.

Farkle: Oh, sorry about that. We’ll quiet down.

Woman: Oh, no no! Don’t mind me, loves. I find it a bit amusing to be frank -- reminds me of me and my husband here. We can bicker up a storm.

Husband: [ making her point ] No we don’t.

Woman: Married fifty-seven years, if you can believe it. [ cheerfully ] You two make an adorable couple.

Um? The two of them exchange a look, Isadora bewildered and amused whereas Farkle seems slightly panicked.

Isadora: We’re not --

Farkle: It’s not like that, we’re just --

Woman: [ ignoring their protests ] Do you want a picture? The backdrop of the city really can’t be beaten from this angle. It’s so gorgeous, isn’t it?

God, old people… really can’t keep up with them. Farkle stammers, searching for a polite way to reject the well-meant but misguided offer. But Isadora surprises him even more.

Isadora: Sure.

Farkle stares at her as the woman chirps happily, needling her husband to come take the photo because he has less shaky hands. Isadora passes over her phone, only noticing Farkle’s expression when she steps closer for the photo. She shrugs.

Isadora: What? A picture’s a picture. Might as well preserve the memory, right?

Well… yes… but… hard to argue with that. Farkle relents, still a bit stiff, but he’s not going to pass up the opportunity for a keepsake when Isadora is rare to photograph as it is. He manages to pull together a smile as they huddle together and he drapes an arm around her shoulders. His gaze lingers on Isadora as she steps forward to retrieve her phone, thanking the nosy tourist.

INT. LONDON EYE - CAPSULE 2 - DAY

Speaking of nosy women, Riley is taking some photos of her own. She’s capturing as much of the view as she can in her phone, but it obviously can’t replace the real thing. She seems dissatisfied by that fact, only pulled out of scrutinizing her work when Asher stumbles over to join her. He blindly finds the rail and holds onto it for dear life, eyes screwed shut.

Riley: [ with a chuckle ] What are you doing?

Asher: I’m such an idiot. I’m an idiot, Riley -- you are Riley, right?

Riley: Yes, rest assured. I’m actually surprised you’re on this. Aren’t you scared of heights?

Asher: Yes. Yes, I am. But I thought, why not, what better a time to conquer my fears. Gonna be doing a lot of it in the next few months, might as well start now. When in London, right? Wrong. So, so wrong.

Riley aws in sympathy, patting his back and then looping her arm through his to help brace him further. She focuses on distracting him, explaining that she’s trying to take as many photos as possible to show Lucas when they get back. She knows he said he didn’t care, but…

Asher: No, no, I think that’s nice. He’ll appreciate it. You know Lucas claims he doesn’t care about everything when he actually does like seventy percent of the time.

Riley: Yeah. I mean, he honestly probably won’t care much about the London stuff.

Asher: True. He barely tolerates Manhattan.

Riley: But later in the week when we go to like, the parks and the nature reserves and stuff… you know he’d love that. He’d act like he wasn’t into it, but he so would be. So I’ll just try to bring as much back to him as I can.

Asher: For sure. He’s lucky he has you.

Maybe it’s the crippling anxiety talking and blocking his usual filter, but Asher usually isn’t one for such casually stated declarations, so Riley takes the sentiment to heart. It’s nice to hear Lucas’s best friend say something so validating. She smiles to herself.

Riley: Anyway, I’m planning to show the pictures to Charlie, too. He loves travel and history and that sort of stuff, so I’m sure he’ll want to see all of it. So either way, won’t go to waste.

Asher: Oh, yeah. Sucks that he didn’t get to come after three years of sticking out of the worst of what Adams has to offer.

Yeah… a lot of things have felt that way with Charlie this year. But he’s got plenty of his own going on this week while they’re traipsing across the pond.

As the gentle, unassuming guitar floats in…

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “New Start” as performed by Weary Friend || Performed by Charlie Gardner

CHARLIE GARDNER’s soft vocals drift in as we settle in his bedroom. A couple of boxes have cropped up in corners of the room, one of them labeled “donations.” Inside are discarded pieces of the Haverford uniform, the first willing sacrifice to the specter of college packing.

And I’m packing up and I’m moving out And I’m walking across the stage into a world that I’ve never seen

On the back of Charlie’s desk chair, a pale blue graduation gown is folded -- on the desk, his cap and high school diploma.

So it’s done. A graduation come and gone, just like that. When everyone else was halfway across the globe -- another important walk made alone.

EXT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BALCONY - DAY

On his balcony, CHARLIE GARDNER is seated with his guitar, delicately strumming through the notes. He’s dressed plainly in a tee shirt and jeans, not dressing to impress or concealed behind a uniform, and his hair has grown back out long enough that pieces of it are falling in his face as he focuses on the strings. Despite the mixed emotions of the song, he appears at ease -- honestly the most relaxed he’s looked in months. No more selling himself for applications, no more blackmailing peers.

And they ask me where I’m going And they ask me what I see ahead But if I’m being completely honest…

The threats of the past are done now. All that’s left is the daunting uncertainty of the future. Charlie pauses for a moment, taking a breath… then he exhales into the final line of the verse.

I can’t see a thing

INT. HAVERFORD PREP - AUDITORIUM - FLASHBACK - DAY

As the performance continues, a flashback allows us to actually see Charlie graduate. He rises the steps to the stage and crosses with a bashful smile to accept the diploma from AARON JACKSON. In the audience, ELEANOR GARDNER watches with tears in her eyes, AMBROSE GARDNER applauding proudly next to her.

Charlie glances towards them as he begins his exit from the stage, smiling wider when he locks eyes with ROSIE GARDNER. She’s applauding too, trying to look unimpressed, but she can’t hold back her smile. AGATHA GARDNER and DAISY GARDNER are also present, cheering along.

As he disappears into the darkness of the wings --

INT. DANCE STUDIO - FLASHBACK - DAY

At about two minutes in, Charlie emerges into an empty dance studio at a local fitness center, flicking on the lights. Plain-clothed, free for the summer, left to his own devices.

No one else around to follow. No group choreography to adhere to, no brotherhood to obey, no expectations. But he wants to dance. He wants to reconnect, find that piece of his identity again.

So he does. Slowly, imperfectly, but it’s a new start. As the music swells into the orchestral middle, Charlie rediscovers dance, pursuing and practicing the art solely for himself.

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - FLASHBACK - NIGHT

At the same time, intercut with the lyrical, improvised choreography in the studio, Charlie starts the strange process of going through his stuff in preparation for college packing that we see in progress in the present. He discards his Haverford stuff, tossing it haphazardly into the donations box.

It gets harder, though, when the decisions aren’t so surface-level. Like old photographs, books, notebooks from Adams with notes in the margins -- nervous notes to self, scribbled conversations with Clarissa and Haley, teasing doodles and messages in Zay’s chicken scratch from studying together.

It’s easy to discard the things you’re ready to let go of. The rest, not so much.

INT. DANCE STUDIO - FLASHBACK - DAY

As the orchestration winds down, Charlie finishes a fouette turn and lands without stumbling -- a promising sign if anything. He lowers himself into a sitting position, then exhales a breath and falls onto his back, laying in the center of the dance floor and staring up at the ceiling.

I used to think that when I was grown up I’d have my life figured out I’d know exactly who I was, I’d be set in my ways not needing to change

INT. OLD DANCE STUDIO - FLASHBACK - DAY

In a different studio, dated and decorated like the late 2000s, a YOUNG CHARLIE GARDNER lays at the center of the dance floor the exact same way, staring up at the ceiling. Smaller, geekier, yet doing the same cool down, centering routing. Finding solace in the quiet of the studio even so many years ago.

But now that I’m here, I feel more like a child Still learning my lessons and needing direction Still needing direction…

EXT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BALCONY - DAY

As the piece swells into the final crescendo, Charlie leans into it, emotional and vulnerable. Many pieces come together in tandem with his simple vocals on the balcony, interweaving around one another. Photographs of him as a kid on the mantle in the living room, the same ones he scrutinized at the start of Season 2 during “I Hope I Get It,” now share space with his senior portrait. He continues to dance solo in the community center studio, while his younger, less polished self does the same.

He brings it all to a close back on the balcony, letting the final chords reverberate for a moment before he releases the strings. For a moment, he stays still and enjoys the quiet, the slow bleed of the familiar soundscape of the Upper East Side returning to focus around him. The distant echo of traffic. The coo of neighborhood birds. The chatter of neighbors down the street.

His home, for at least a little while longer -- before he ends up who knows where. Then he releases a sigh, taking his guitar and stepping back inside his bedroom.

EXT. LONDON EYE - DAY

The A class recongregates on the sidewalks, Riley’s group still trickling in from being released from the wheel. While Eric and Harper avidly attempt to head count and take attendance, Maya greets Farkle as he returns. She asks what he thought about the view.

Maya: Like, it was nice and all that, but eh. I’ve seen better.

Farkle: It was cool. Someone even took a picture of me and Isadora.

Maya: Oh? Paparazzi already.

Farkle: Yeah. She said we made “a cute couple.”

Maya cracks up, shaking her head. She takes his hand, patting it with her own.

Maya: Oh, Farkle, sweetie. No one would say that to you.

Farkle holds out his free arm in indignation. Well, it happened! Still, Maya remains unconvinced -- and thoroughly tickled.

INT. LONDON HOTEL - RILEY’S ROOM - NIGHT

The rooming arrangements for the trip are… unique to say the least, considering Eric had to balance gender, sexuality, and a handful of romantic entanglements that he’s trying not to enable. That explains how Riley, Isadora, and Dylan ended up as roommates, though they seem more than content with the grouping.

Well, at first Isadora does, until her chatty roommates shift onto topics she’d rather not discuss. It starts with college, a reality she’s trying to ignore, as Riley points out this whole exercise in travel is probably good for a lot of them in preparing for whatever journeys they’ll make for the future. She also notes it’s good practice being away from Lucas with this kind of time difference -- if he goes to Davis, like she’s hoping he will, they’ll be dealing with this distance all the time.

Dylan: Totally. But you guys are going to be fine. You’ve never been like super clingy or anything. And you’re already used to him being a terrible communicator even when he’s right in front of you. Won’t have to worry that distance is causing that when you know he’s like that all the time.

Isadora: That is actually so true.

Dylan: I think the much more pressing question is how are you ever going to survive being away from me? When I’m all the way in Rochester, a whole five hours away?

Riley: I know, you’re so right… well, I guess I just have to get my fix now!

Riley surges forward and tackles Dylan with a hug, the two of them collapsing into a giggly heap on their bed. Isadora eyes them, rolling her eyes affectionately. Once they’ve rearranged themselves into some semblance of a cuddle pile, Dylan conspiratorially continues the conversation.

Dylan, jokingly: Do you think Lucas would be jealous that I’m sharing a bed with you?

Riley: Considering you’re the gayest teen in Manhattan and are happily dating his best friend? No, I think he’ll live. [ coyly ] Besides, believe it or not, Lucas and I have shared a sleeping space… more than once already.

The statement itself is factual, nothing objectionable about it, but the message is all in Riley’s mischievous delivery. They may not have had sex yet, but the extracurricular implications are clear enough even Isadora catches on. Dylan gasps in faux shock, which Riley rolls her eyes at.

Dylan: OMG… Miss Riley...

Riley: Which you already knew.

Dylan: [ another gasp, then a beam ] I did. I did already know that actually.

As cute as Dylan and Riley’s friendship is, their comfort and casual intimacy in talking about sex is pretty much the last thing Isadora wants to hear. The context of Lucas and Riley is bad enough when she has to confront it, but on top of her own recent choices, she can’t stomach it.

Isadora: Are you going to be like this all trip? If I knew I was getting Elle Woods’ sorority sisters for roommates, I would’ve asked Eric to switch my room assignment.

Yikes. Dylan and Riley quiet down immediately, exchanging an uncertain look. To engage or not to engage… just as Riley opens her mouth to ask if everything is okay, there’s a knock at their door. Dylan climbs up to get it, pulling open the door where Chai is waiting on the other side.

Perfect timing… Isadora immediately gets to her feet, Dylan offering Chai a smile before stepping back to make room. He goes and rejoins Riley on their bed as Isadora approaches the doorway, the two eyeing the couple with interest and sharing another tacit exchange.

INT. LONDON HOTEL - CORRIDOR - NIGHT

Isadora steps out into the corridor, shutting the door gently behind her. Chai gives her a smile, but it’s tight and doesn’t reach her eyes. 

Chai: Thought I’d come by and say goodnight before lights out. 

Isadora: Oh, okay. Goodnight.

Isadora begins to turn, but Chai reaches out and places a hand on her arm to stop her. Isadora flinches at the unexpected contact, pulling her arm away and rubbing the spot where Chai’s hand was.

Upset, Chai crosses her arms. She tries to start a conversation, but her heart isn’t in it, and she can tell that Isadora would rather be talking to anybody else. 

Chai: Are you okay? You haven’t been like yourself. 

Isadora: Probably just jetlag. I’m super tired. 

Chai: Yeah, maybe. [ a beat ] But you haven’t really been yourself for a while now. Are you sure --

Isadora, snapping: You haven’t really known me that long, though, have you? You’re not my therapist or Eric, so please don’t pretend like you know what’s going on with me.

Ouch. Chai is taken aback, unable to hide the hurt on her face. Isadora realises what she said and exhales, trying to take a step back from her emotions.

Chai: I wasn’t trying to --

Isadora: I know, I’m sorry. Like I said, I’m really tired. I’ll be better once I sleep.

Chai nods, unsure, but figures it’s best to just leave it. She bids Isadora a quiet goodnight and leans forward to place a gentle kiss on her cheek, but Isadora doesn’t notice this and turns to open the door. Familiar feelings of being invisible and ignored cause Chai’s eyes to gloss over as she walks away.

INT. LONDON HOTEL - NIGEL’S ROOM - NIGHT

Nigel is getting his stuff ready for tomorrow, Nate and Jeff debating something from the bathroom nook. Jeff quickly asks Nigel if he needs to use the bathroom before he takes a shower, which he claims he’s all good, and Nate declares he’s going to go adventure around the halls until the last possible minute before lights out.

Jeff: I’m sure Eric and Harper will love that.

Nate: It’s only like six in the evening in my New York brain! What do they expect me to do, go to sleep? We’ve got hours before I hit that wall.

Oh, Nate, is the jetlag gonna come for you… but no stopping him for now. Jeff ducks into the bathroom and Nate disappears into the hall, leaving Nigel alone in the room. He settles onto his bed, absorbing the uncharacteristic quiet for a moment… then he gets an idea.

He leans over and pulls the hotel phone towards him, picking up the receiver and looking for how to find the right number...

INT. LONDON HOTEL - TECHIE ROOM - NIGHT

For as much as she planned to take a break from them this trip, Jade remains stuck with a majority of techie boys as her bunkmates. Dave and Yogi have claimed one bed while she’s planning to share the other with Asher, though at the moment she’s searching for a semblance of peace and quiet by brushing her teeth in the bathroom nook.

Dave pokes his head around the doorway, quietly asking if she’s okay. Jade spits out her toothpaste then raises her eyebrows.

Jade: Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?

Dave: Well, you said you wanted to spend less time with us this trip.

Jade: I didn’t say it like that.

Dave: But here you are… stuck spending time with us. [ sincerely ] Sorry if we’re annoying you.

Jade sighs, tilting her head at him.

Jade: You could never annoy me, Dave Williams.

Dave smiles, somewhat reassured. Jade continues with a shrug, reminding him that it’s not like she hasn’t spent the last four years with ample time getting used to them. And it’s not that anything has changed about that -- she still loves them, they’re her boys, even if the ones like Nate and Dylan sometimes drive her crazy.

Jade: I just… I was hoping for something a little different this time. That’s all.

Dave clearly isn’t sure what that means, but he doesn’t get the chance to ask. The hotel phone rings, making all of them jump.

Yogi: Oh my God, those work? I thought they were just decorative.

Asher stops journaling, tentatively reaching to pick up the receiver when it’s clear no one else is going to. He says hello, listening thoughtfully, until his expression shifts to recognition. Then he cracks a small smile, glancing towards Jade hovering by the bathroom.

Asher: Yeah, sure. I’ll see if she’s available. [ holding out the receiver ] It’s for you.

Dave and Yogi exchange intrigued looks, the latter making a point of ooh-ing. Jade shoots him a look but comes to take the phone from Asher, who gives her some space and takes his journal over to the desk.

Jade, uncertainly: Hello?

INT. LONDON HOTEL - NIGEL’S ROOM - NIGHT

Nigel exhales a sigh of relief, settling back against the headboard. He returns her greeting shyly.

Nigel: I’m glad this actually worked, I wasn’t sure it would. I sort of thought these phones were mainly decorative.

The conversation cuts back and forth between the two of them, both of them speaking more softly than they probably need to under the guise of pretending they have privacy. Nigel explains he just wanted to say goodnight, which Jade smiles at. She apologizes for the fact that today didn’t really go as planned, but Nigel shrugs. Always tomorrow.

Jade: Yeah. Yeah, definitely.

Nigel: So I’ll see you tomorrow. For real this time.

Jade: [ with a laugh ] Okay. Can’t wait.

Neither of them want to say goodbye, but they must. To delay it just a minute more, though, Nigel tells Jade to make sure to check outside her door before she goes to sleep. She frowns, confused, but he refuses to elaborate. He simply insists she do her due diligence, then with one more goodnight, hangs up.

Jade gets up and heads to the door, hesitant and feeling silly… but it’s Nigel, and she trusts him. He wouldn’t tell her to do something without a good reason. Glancing over her shoulders to make sure her roommates are preoccupied, she gently pulls open the door.

INT. LONDON HOTEL - CORRIDOR - NIGHT

At first, Jade doesn’t find anything to see… until her gaze drifts downward. She lowers herself to a crouch, picking up the small gift left just outside her door.

One of the roses from the street vendor, the ones she said were beautiful, with a delicate ribbon tied around the stem. Jade laughs quietly in disbelief, then turns her focus to the small note folded underneath it with her name on it. It’s a brief message, scrawled in Nigel’s handwriting, on a piece of hotel notepad paper:

For aught that I could ever read, Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never did run smooth.

A Shakespeare quote. Of course. How perfectly, quintessentially Nigel -- and the perfect antidote to their befuddled plans. Jade smiles, twirling the rose in her fingers and then smelling it.

Maya, pre-lap: I mean, it’s insulting, really. The complete disregard for my plans.

INT. LONDON HOTEL - DIVA ROOM - NIGHT

Maya is in the careful process of brushing her famous golden locks before bed, pacing the hotel room as she does. She’s ranting about the situation with the London Eye, remarking that with their little split she got separated from all the cool people and had to be stuck with Chai and like half of the techie gremlins -- including Asher of all people.

Maya: I really should file a complaint -- though I don’t know if it would be more effective to report Eric, or the tour company. I was very clear in my directions.

Zay: Yeah, yeah, it’s a travesty. While you’re at it, can you Karen the hotel and get them to improve their wi-fi? This service is shit.

At least, not good enough for him to compulsively check his application portal. Maya softens a bit, confirming that he still hasn’t heard from Turner. Zay tosses his phone onto the end of the bed, claiming that at this point he’d rather get a loud rejection than continue to be in suspense.

Farkle emerges from the bathroom, walking right into a trap for Maya’s ire. She comments on Zay’s predicament by pointing out that some people have confirmed opportunities right in front of them, and yet don’t appreciate it. Farkle rolls his eyes.

Zay: What, USC? Big whoop. You know Farkle was going to get in anywhere he applied considering his dad has a wealth reputation the size of Bezos.

Farkle: Um, well, I think we could give a little credit to my grades and applications.

Zay: Eh.

But no, that’s not what Maya was talking about. She loftily mentions the existence of the business card, getting the immediate attention of both boys. Zay sits upright.

Zay: Wait, what?

Farkle: Maya!

Maya: … oh, was I not supposed to mention it? [ flatly ] Oops…

Zay eyes Farkle, expecting further information. Reluctantly, Farkle gives him the short version -- that when they were in Los Angeles, he crossed paths with a talent agent who liked what he saw. So now he’s got this business card for if he’s ever back in the area. Zay blinks, shaking his head.

Zay: I’m sorry, let me see if I got this right. When we went to Los Angeles for Valerie De La Cruz’s funeral, you somehow managed to stumble into a situation to show a talent agent what you have to offer, and they liked it? Enough to give you their card?

Farkle: It was actually an audition. They wanted me to take the part, but I wanted to come back and finish senior year, so --

Zay scoffs, even more disbelieving. Maya holds out a hand, emphasizing her unspoken point. Farkle scrambles to explain himself, to validate his reasons for putting everything on hold and still not being sure he’s going to pursue it, but after a few moments Zay waves him down. He shuts down the conversation, claiming he can’t process this information right now.

Zay: Unbelievable. I can’t with this. I’m going to bed, and I’m going to sleep off this reveal and pretend I never learned it. Goodnight.

Farkle: Zay, it’s not like --

Maya: That’s all? I need you to give him one of your tough love bitch smackdowns --

Zay: I’M GOING TO SLEEP. GOODNIGHT.

Zay hits the light switch by his bed and sends the room into half-darkness, flopping onto his side and turning away from them. Maya and Farkle eye each other, the latter scowling at her. She smiles innocently.

Farkle marches over and hits the other light switch, throwing us into darkness --

INT. COACH - MOVING - DAY

But the sunlight is bright as the A class embarks on their second day, en route to the famous Westminster Abbey. It should be an exciting prospect, and it would be -- if the A class wasn’t thoroughly jetlagged and half-asleep on the bus. Dylan is asleep, leaning against a drowsy Asher.

Simon does his best to rouse them, trying to energise the bus with some riveting Westminster trivia. But it falls flat, especially on such a dead crowd. Their bus driver for the trip, a portly and blunt woman named FREYA, tells him to give it up. They’re second-day Americans, they’re gonna be pretty useless for much of the day.

Eric offers some optimism, though, patting Simon on the shoulder and assuring him they’ll put together. They’ll perk up soon… hopefully… Dave yawns loudly, not accenting Eric’s point well.

INT. GARDNER HOME - KITCHEN - DAY

Back in Manhattan, Eleanor has plenty of energy to spare. She’s in full-on planner mode as she pieces together final details for Charlie’s graduation reception, binders and notes spread out on the kitchen table and phone cradled between her shoulder and ear as she confirms some last-minute details.

Rosie and Daisy watch from the kitchen counter, since she’s taken over the dining table, having their breakfast. It’s quite the intimidating spectacle, watching their mom helicopter parent.

Daisy: Intense. Imagine what it’ll be like if he gets married.

Rosie: Think I might drop out to avoid this -- though I doubt she’d put in this much effort for me.

Daisy: I’d do that, but unfortunately, I need secondary education to get into a good college for environmental science. So.

Well, Daisy sure dropped that life plan nonchalantly. Seems she’s got it all figured out -- if only she would share some of that with Charlie! Rosie starts to ask follow up questions, but Daisy is done eating, walking away without comment.

Eleanor glances up from her things while she’s on hold with the caterers, asking Rosie if she’s heard from Charlie at all today. She feels like she hasn’t seen him since yesterday. He’s supposed to be picking up his suit, but if he doesn’t let her know, how is she supposed to know for sure… Rosie shrugs, claiming she doesn’t know. Then she pulls out her phone, crafting a quick text.

INT. THE GAP - DAY

Charlie is picking up his suit jacket as instructed, but there’s a reason he’s not keeping Eleanor updated. He glances at the text from Rosie, warning him that Mom is running just under nuclear and wondering where he is. How much longer is he going to be out?

Before he can type a response, that reason for secrecy returns to his side -- BRIDGETTE GARDNER, running the errand with him. She hands over the suit jacket put on hold for him, complete with a tie selection and suggested slack colors to match. Charlie informs her that they need to work fast because Mom is in blitz mode. Bridgette isn’t surprised, gesturing for him to try on the jacket then.

He does, pulling his arms through the sleeves. Once he’s straightened out the sleeves and adjusted the buttons, they both get a look at him in the standing mirror. It doesn’t look bad at all -- pretty classic and inoffensive in plain navy. The tie pulled to go with it is just a shade off from black, making the whole ensemble very unremarkable.

Bridgette: Looks nice. Just exactly like Mommy laid it out for you the night before.

She playfully pats his cheek, earning a scowl from him. She comments that she’s surprised Eleanor hasn’t made him cut his hair for the occasion, as it’s getting pretty long again.

Charlie: … she might have suggested it once or twice. I changed the subject.

Bridgette scoffs. Of course. But at least Charlie is resisting her influence. Bridgette thinks he could afford to do it more, given that this ensemble for the reception is so insanely boring he might as well be going to a funeral.

Bridgette: Hear me out. What about… glitter? Just a little on the lapels. Oh, or maybe like some leather -- walk into church in some actually well-fitting pants and I promise you about half the congregation will drop dead.

Charlie: Gee, thanks, but I��m not trying to commit mass murder. You may as well have me wear a bedazzled rainbow suit and tattoo a pride flag on my face.

Bridgette: Would be an improvement from what you’ve got now.

Be that as it may, Charlie just wants this reception to go smoothly. If that means wearing what mom thinks looks best, then whatever. Not like it matters.

Bridgette: See, I used to think like that, and then I discovered lace bralette tops. Never going back. [ a beat ] I’m just saying, it’s your party. I think you should be able to express a little bit of yourself while you’re there. At least consider a different tie?

Charlie: … fine. You get three chances to change my mind.

Bridgette accepts the challenge, settling into digging through the displays of neckties to find the strongest contenders. Charlie changes the subject, reflecting on the fact that Bridgette doesn’t even get to be at the reception to see him wear it if he does decide to shake it up. She states that the knowledge of her assistance will be enough, but he doesn’t agree.

Charlie: It’s not fair. I mean, you didn’t get to go to the ceremony, you don’t get to come to this…

Bridgette: Yes, such are the trials and tribulations of being the exile. Missing out on all the thrilling social engagements of blessed high society.

Charlie: I’m serious. Don’t you want to be there?

Bridgette pauses, taking in his sincere indignation. While confronting their mom isn’t exactly high on her agenda, it’s clear from the expression on his face that he wants her there. She shrugs, focusing on the ties.

Bridgette: I already accepted the fact that I was gonna miss out on this stuff. You know? I got over that when I got over everything else. You have to -- if you get stuck on shit like that, it just… makes it harder. And at that point, you can’t handle harder.

Bottom line, he shouldn’t get all worked up on her behalf. He can have his perfect, polished graduation reception without her, and then they’ll do something to celebrate on their own. She finishes pulling a third selection and double checks that she’s satisfied with her picks, then hands them to Charlie and swaps for his boring Eleanor-approved tie.

Bridgette: I’m taking this back to the personal shopper. He can put it back on the rack -- that or burn it, which will be my humble suggestion. You’re wearing one of those.

Charlie: Oh, so it’s bad when mom tells me what to wear, but when you do it, it’s fine.

Bridgette: Yes. Obviously. Just think of it as representation on my behalf, as the poor little exile.

The comment is said in jest, but it’s clear Charlie genuinely isn’t satisfied with how she’s being left out from all his celebrations. She may have made peace with it, but he’s struggling to do the same. He glances down at the neckties, sifting through the colorful and patterned selections.

EXT. WESTMINSTER ABBEY - CLOISTERS - DAY

With its high ceilings, ancient decor and dark lighting, Westminster Abbey very much gives Hogwarts vibes. Simon is in the midst of leading a walking tour around it, holding up a small but bright yellow flag to ensure the group doesn’t get lost. The class is still a little groggy, since Simon’s monotone voice doesn’t inspire much excitement. 

Simon: One of the many monarchs buried here at Westminster is the queen known as “Bloody Mary,” also known as Mary Tudor. She was the last Catholic monarch --

Dave: I wonder if Charlie knows her. 

Simon: And was responsible for 280 people being burned at the stake due to their protestantism. The myth of Bloody Mary is often combined with that of Mary, Queen of Scots, who’s also buried here. She was Queen of Scotland, and claimed that the English throne belonged to her, not her cousin Elizabeth I. Because of this, Elizabeth had her cousin beheaded. 

Nate: Sick. 

Simon: Rumour has it Bloody Mary haunts various sites across the UK, and that if you say her name three times in a row, she’ll make an appearance.

The techie boys all share excited looks while Darby and Haley both look outright disturbed. Simon continues on, unaware of the reactions behind him.

Eric steps through the crowd with his phone to his ear, nodding, then lowers it against his chest as he approaches Riley. He pulls her aside from where she’s listening with Dylan and Asher, speaking to her quietly so as to not interrupt. As the one with the unlimited international plan for this trip, he’s the point person for any important communication.

Eric: Hey, your dad’s on the phone.

Riley: What? Is everything okay?

Eric: Yeah, yeah, it’s fine. He just… your Tisch letter came in the mail. He wants to know if he should open it or not.

Oh. Riley processes that, glancing towards Dylan and Asher. They nod her along, and she nods to Eric, taking the phone from him and stepping a bit away to talk to Cory. She gives him permission to open the letter, waiting on the other end of the line impatiently. She twists a thread on the end of her lavender silk blouse, the seconds ticking by impossibly slow…

Then the results are in. Riley absorbs what her dad tells her, blinking.

Riley: Waitlisted. [ a long beat ] Um, are you sure? What does it --

She’s cut off as Cory presumably reads from the letter, confirming the intel. She’s been waitlisted for Tisch.

For as unbothered as she acted about the whole thing, the news is still a bit overwhelming. She clears her throat, assuring Cory that she’s fine and really needs to catch up with the group. Once they say goodbye, she makes her way back over to Dylan and Asher, managing a smile. But they can tell she’s not herself, cautiously asking what the verdict is.

Riley: Um, waitlisted.

Dylan: No way.

Asher: Oh, well… look, that’s not bad. It could still turn around.

Riley: Yeah. Yeah, absolutely.

Asher: It’s not so much a rejection as it is, like… you know, just waiting to see if --

Riley: The better people say yes first.

Well, when you put it like that… Asher bites his tongue, deciding not to add anything since he’s clearly not helping. Dylan asks if she wants to take a minute, or if she wants them to wait with her, but she waves them off. She’ll be fine.

Riley: Think I just want to be alone for a second. If that’s okay.

Dylan and Asher nod, offering condolences one more time but also assuring her that Tisch doesn’t know what they’re holding out on. It’s their loss. She smiles, appreciative, but it’s faint.

Then she’s alone, left to absorb these new developments. She could hold out on the unlikely, pretending like she’s on the same level as Maya, Nigel, or any other of her incredibly talented friends… or she can let it go, start thinking more practically, and be able to start planning her future.

There’s just that lingering worry, the one creating the lump in her throat, that if she makes the wrong choice, she’s going to regret it forever.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Chasing Pavements” as performed by Adele || Performed by Riley Matthews

Rather than focusing on unrequited romance, Riley’s soulful rendition of the early Adele hit is concerned around her future. For as composed as she’s been able to appear about the whole thing while her friends spiral, the pressure of such major decisions has been weighing on her too -- and with a result like “waitlist,” she’s simultaneously let down yet still trapped in uncertainty. She was hoping for this admission decision to make the tough choices for her, to show her how she feels and what she wants from her future.

Does she want to risk it all and pursue a lofty goal like performing when it’s never been her core motivation, when it’s not her whole entire world like her friends -- but she might be just good enough to make something out of it? Is it worth chasing that elusive maybe, when that maybe might never materialize, waitlisting her forever… and when she could conceivably imagine herself doing something else, even if she doesn’t know what that something else is yet?

And maybe it hurts so much because it speaks to an even greater problem, which is that Riley herself feels stuck on an eternal waitlist. The blow just reiterates what she’s always known: that she’s second best, second choice, the belle of the ball only when all the other debutantes have passed. Maybe a single college acceptance shouldn’t feel that way, but it does, and the ache of it is loud and clear as Riley meanders her way through the corridors of Westminster Abbey and belts it out. It’s a rather poignantly beautiful performance with the historic, grand abbey as her stage.

As the song comes to an end, Riley slips down and settles onto one of the stone benches, tilting her head back against the glass window behind her. The empty feeling expands as we ease away, her solitude emphasized by how vast the corridors seem around her.

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Riley isn’t the only one feeling stranded in regards to their dreams. Lucas is in a low mood, spending his time moping behind the counter at Chubbies when he should be on his way to Albany for his interview. It would be easier to be angry, but the only person he can get mad at is himself, so muted frustration and disappointment will do.

He lifts his gaze from the register when Charlie walks through the door, one of the only customers who’s trailed in so far that morning. He makes a point of noting the emptiness himself as he approaches the counter.

Charlie: Quiet in here, huh? Guess when Adams heads out there’s really no one left to patronize this place.

Lucas: Would you judge me if I said I liked it?

Charlie laughs. He claims he wouldn’t judge, given that he’s out also looking for a little quiet and change of pace. He mentions his family and all of the hubbub around his reception, which it’s clearly nice to step away from for a bit.

Lucas: Oh, right. You graduated this week, right?

Charlie: Yeah. Basically the same day everybody else left.

Lucas: Great timing. But uh, congratulations, or whatever.

Not the most eloquent good tidings, but Charlie will take it. The conversation drifts to more general post-graduate discussion, ultimately prompting Lucas to admit when asked about his college prospects that he was accepted into UC Davis. In fact, he was even offered a potential scholarship. Charlie brightens, knowing from Riley how big a deal it is.

Charlie: Seriously? That’s amazing! Congratulations. You must be excited.

Lucas: You’d think I would be. Only it’s not happening. I can’t get the scholarship, so I can’t go.

Charlie: What? Why not?

Lucas isn’t one to just dump his personal baggage out for anyone to see, but there’s something so inexplicably disarming about Charlie that he finds himself saying it anyway. That, and all that frustration he’s been stifling all morning is desperate to slip out.

Lucas: Because for whatever reason the stupid thing is upstate in Albany, rather than like, a centralized logical location like downtown.

Charlie: They probably had more than one session for out-of-state applicants. At least it’s in New York.

Lucas: I guess. It’s my fault, anyway, because I could’ve planned accordingly, but I’m a fucking idiot who waited until the last second to ask for a ride, and my only resource can’t help. And I tried looking up ride shares but it’ll take like a million dollars to get there and back, which defeats the purpose anyway since I’m going to this interview to lick some boots for a scholarship because I don’t have any money.

Lucas concludes his mini-rant by pointedly shutting the cash register drawer, which dings in protest. Charlie processes his complaints, trying to keep up.

Charlie: Where’d you say it was again?

Lucas: Albany. [ irritably ] It’s only like a couple hours away, which honestly makes it worse, because it’s that damningly close and yet I still can’t get to it --

Charlie: Dude, I can drive you.

Oh. Wasn’t expecting that. Lucas pauses his irritable fidgeting, staring at him for a long moment before realizing he’s genuinely offering.

Lucas: … are you serious?

Charlie: Yeah! Like you said, Albany’s not even that far. I like a drive, and I don’t think you should have to miss out on the chance to see this through just because you don’t have the means to get there. Besides, I owe you one for helping me with Brandon.

Lucas: No, no. No, we’re already even. I evened it. Because that was for you doing the transfer thing --

Charlie: [ with humor ] Look, we could do this all day. Or, we can get going so you can make it to your interview on time -- though you’ll probably want to change first.

Perhaps. Lucas glances down at his Chubbies uniform.

INT. SCHOOL BOARD OFFICES - MORRIS’S OFFICE - DAY

Meanwhile, Jack is at his prior engagement, sitting down for coffee with GEORGE MORRIS (60s). He’s a member of the old guard for sure, conventional and establishment, but unlike Jefferson and Yancy he tends to formulate his opinions on each issue independently and votes accordingly. He’s not easily influenced... which makes his impending retirement of particular interest. Whoever rises to occupy his vacant spot may just tip the scales of the school board towards a progressive or conservative lean.

It’s a fact that is clearly on Jack’s mind as they chat, starting on the subject of Jack’s forced probation and reapplication for the leadership role at Adams. Morris voted during the Bradford debacle for Lucas to be able to stay at Adams -- he found the whole situation quite ridiculous and time-wasting, to be frank, more spectacle than anything worthwhile -- but he admits that he also voted for Jack to be put up for reapplication.

Morris: My thinking was that if you were still best suited for the position, then your reapplication should be swift and effortless. You have a strong track record despite Yancy’s observations, which are biased, and it wouldn’t take much to win the job back. Sure, it’s another symbolic, time-wasting gesture, but it would settle the matter.

That being said, he did note that Jack has yet to actually submit said reapplication… which provides a perfect segue into why he knows Jack is really here.

Morris: You don’t have to beat around the bush, Jackson. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors that I’ll be taking my leave at the end of this contract year.

Jack: That might be true, yes.

Morris: Evelyn mentioned you very well may eye my spot. In fact, she seemed to suspect such a thing before you even caught wind of the possibility. She’s keen, Evelyn, insightful. Knows her colleagues much better than most, sees potential that others don’t. That’s why she makes an excellent board member.

Jack admits it’s not out of the realm of possibility in his mind… in the time that he’s been an administrator, he’s learned a lot, but one thing that always frustrates him is when he loses the ability to tackle bigger issues once they elevate beyond his pay grade. There are bigger, more systemic issues affecting the students of Manhattan that he wishes would get more attention, that he could dedicate more concerted effort towards without sacrificing his attention to Adams or risking overstepping his bounds. And certainly becoming a school board member wouldn’t magically fix any of those problems, but it’s a new angle on it. A new starting point, a place where he can create initiatives and try to organize funding towards the things he believes matter above all else.

That’s true, and Morris commends his passion. The board can be a painfully bureaucratic institution, and it could benefit from some fresh spirit. But he has to advise him to seriously consider the process it would entail as well. The school board is an elected position. Jack would have to campaign, build a following, and garner enough support to win the spot. And like most elected positions, he wouldn’t be able to hold onto his current position in the meantime -- if Jack decides to throw his hat in the ring and run for the board, he will have to forfeit his role at Adams to do it. And if he doesn’t make the cut, he’ll be starting over.

Still, that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t consider it. It’s just important to examine all the angles before he makes a move as big as this -- and it’s evident that Jack seriously is.

INT. WESTMINSTER ABBEY - HENRY VII CHAPEL - DAY

At the same time, the A class has begun their free roam at the abbey, allowing them to break off into smaller groups. There’s a lot to explore, so they’ve got a decent chunk of time to do so.

Jade and Nigel have wandered off on their own and arrived at the chapel, Clarissa and Haley the only other two A class folks in the same chamber. Jade approaches the steps in awe, complimenting the architecture and talking about how she remembers watching Kate and William get married live on TV.

Jade: Wasn’t my idea though, for the record. My brother was weirdly obsessed with the royals for a time -- he’s one of those Americans that had a union jack hanging up in his room in middle school.

Nigel: Sure.

Jade: I was much more interested in the fashion. I remember being so amazed by Kate’s dress… I mean, the attention to detail on the lace sleeves, and the train…

Nigel’s turn to be fond of Jade nerding out. The two of them settle at the base of the altar, basically mirroring where the royals stood at said wedding with the beauty of the church towering behind them. He claims she’s already designed and created pieces equally as stunning, if not more impressive. Who knows? Maybe she’ll be designing for the royals one day.

Jade: Wouldn’t my brother love that... but I don’t know. To get that kind of gig I would have to actually have credentials first, which is not going to happen if I don’t get a really good apprenticeship.

Nigel: Still nothing from any of them?

Jade: No. And it’s not like that’s a bad thing, yet, most of them don’t start reaching out until like… mid-summer. But with everyone else figuring stuff out and starting to nail down all their plans, kind of just makes me feel… adrift.

There are certainly others who relate at the moment. Nigel steps closer and takes her hands, waiting for her to look at him.

Nigel: It’s all gonna shape out. Even if you don’t take the traditional path, I really don’t see how you couldn’t find your footing in the industry when your portfolio is literally spectacular. And if worse comes to worse, you’ll make your own way. You can like market your designs on social media and stuff -- Yindra’s good at the branding thing, she could probably help. Dylan, too, though I’m not exactly sure he has a method to his madness.

Jade: Well, he’s doing something right, with what, sixty-thousand followers and counting? Still can’t believe it.

Nigel: My point is, you’ll get there one way or another. And I’ll help, even if I have to go door-to-door at NYU singing your praises. I’m well-versed in the art of the monologue, you’d be impressed how much information I can eloquently cram into thirty seconds of time before they inevitably slam the door in my face.

Jade laughs, thanking him for his unabashed support -- and risking social pariah syndrome to do it. He nods, proud, and the moment grows soft between them. Nothing but fond smiles and the gentle beauty of the cathedral around them… they drift closer together, to share a regally romantic kiss of their own…

Only they’re startled out of the moment by Nate, who marches into the room and loudly comments on how great the acoustics are. The rest of the techie boys follow, officially disrupting the peaceful nature from moments earlier.

Nate: I swear, it’s like an amplifier in here. Echo game for days. [ quietly ] Nate’s the best. [ louder, playing with the echoes ] NATE’S THE BEST!

Yogi and Jeff shush him, but it’s not very effective when they’re laughing. Jade groans under her breath, lightly crossing her eyes in irritation before descending down from the altar. Nigel hesitates, then goes after her, the laughter of their peers echoing around the stone architecture.

EXT. WESTMINSTER ABBEY - DAY

Zay is fielding some annoyance of his own, meandering along with Farkle along the exterior grounds of the abbey. They’re near the perimeter of the burial grounds, Farkle rattling off an insane amount of trivia to fill the silence as Zay does his best to ignore him. How he got stuck with him, he doesn’t know, but Farkle seems more than content to trail behind him and bother him with facts he didn’t need to know.

Farkle: Did you know there are over three-thousand people buried at the abbey?

Zay: Why the hell would I know that?

Farkle: Well, I do.

As if that’s the marker for common knowledge. Zay shakes his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets, but Farkle isn’t thrown by his silence. He continues on unperturbed.

Farkle: That statistic includes many royals and all the Tudors -- save for Henry the VIII, that is, who opted to be buried with his favorite wife, Jane Seymour. Though there’s debate about that, too, considering many Tudor enthusiasts actually believe his true love was Catherine of Aragon, but Jane was the one who gave him a male heir. Which she then died for -- childbirth complications -- so guess maybe he felt a little sorry for her.

Zay: [ under his breath ] Think if he had a favorite wife it would be his only wife…

Farkle: Well, sure, maybe by our present-day standards. But monogamy and marriage for love rather than strategy and lineage is really much more modern a practice than most people realize. Anyway, definitely wouldn’t have been Henry the VIII’s game, since he literally created a new branch of Christianity so he could divorce his wife, which wasn’t allowed under Roman Catholicism. So he’s always been a bit of a I’m-Not-Like-Other-Monarchs guy.

They’re going to have to bury Zay at the abbey if Farkle keeps this up and bores him to death.

Farkle: But you think he’d be buried here, considering he’s the reason the church exists as an Anglican denomination like it does now. It used to be a monastery before he had England separate from the Catholic church. Charlie and I got into an argument about this once, actually, in Cory’s class -- well, I don’t know if I can say argument, since Charlie is really only capable of slightly lukewarm debate -- because he thought the date was before --

The relentless trivia is one thing, but a Charlie name-drop is just too much. Zay is trying to avoid thinking about all of the above. He stops walking, Farkle accidentally ramming into him.

Zay: No offense, Farkle, but I quite literally could not give less of a shit. I’m trying to enjoy the scenery, but I can’t even hear myself be unimpressed over your lecture.

Farkle: Some people find fun facts charming.

Zay: Well, you should go find those weirdos and flock with them then. Seriously, acres of ancient architecture for you to roam and somehow, you end up with me. Wouldn’t you rather be competing with Isadora for knowing how many stones make up the cathedral or some shit?

Farkle: Sorry! Maybe I would be, if things were normal. But at this point anything is better than having to trail around behind her and play third wheel with…

Oh, yeah. Right. Zay forgot about the little detail of Chai. He can empathise with that, wanting to avoid unpleasant circumstances that you have no power to change… he sighs.

Zay: Whatever. It’s fine. You can stay, but we’re going to walk quietly. Enjoy the posh, pretentious ambience. Quietly. Got it?

Farkle: Sure. Totally. I can do that.

Zay nods, beginning to saunter along again. Farkle does his best to follow the rule, biting his tongue as he dawdles behind him… but it doesn’t last long. It’s just not in his nature. It’s sweet of Zay to pretend it could be, but they both know that’s not reality.

Farkle: Bet you can’t guess what famous scientist is buried here.

Zay: Jesus Christ…

No, Zay, he wasn’t a scientist. Good try, though!

Charlie, pre-lap: And what unique eccentricities do you bring to the table that you think would make a meaningful addition to the UC community?

INT. CHARLIE’S CAR - DAY

Charlie and Lucas have made it to the interview venue with a few minutes to spare, so they’re maximizing their time. Charlie has his phone open to a list of typical scholarship interview questions and they’re essentially doing a mock interview. Lucas is now dressed in the nice button-down he wore to Topanga’s, looking much more put together than he did in his uniform.

And though they’re doing their usual thing of not making eye contact as they converse, it’s obvious that the practice is valuable to Lucas. He’s able to stumble through his thoughts, pausing and rethinking and starting over in the middle of a sentence, when he won’t be allowed such a luxury once he gets in there. Charlie listens attentively, tossing glances at him and nodding in approval if he says something particularly effective or well-spoken.

Once they’ve made it through the last question, Charlie compliments his efforts. It’s clear he has a lot to say once he finds the right words, and he can spin it all pretty well.

Charlie: These sort of things are more a formality anyway, honestly. They usually have their mind made up about who they want to give the scholarships to -- this is more about confirming that you’re not like, secretly deranged or a total recluse.

Lucas: Oh, really? Then I should skip it. Would hate to confirm their worst fears.

Charlie side-eyes him, smirking as he shakes his head.

Charlie: You’ll be fine. Deliver even a fraction of the confidence you usually have and you’ll win them over.

Lucas: [ with a snort ] Yeah, right. Sure.

That response surprises Charlie. He looks at him.

Charlie: I mean it.

Lucas: I don’t know what Kool-aid they had you drink at Haverford, but I think it fucked with your head. No one would call me the epitome of confidence.

Charlie: Oh, come on. That’s so not true. You’re like, one of the most unflappable people at Adams. Everyone thinks so.

Lucas: Did we go to the same school?

Charlie: I didn’t say it meant they liked you, but I bet if you asked anyone from our class they’d say you’ve got confidence. Maybe not the same brand as Maya, or Isadora, but you know who you are. You’re unapologetic about it. And you do your own thing, you’re not scared of anything. That gives you like… a quiet power. People notice that, it’s admirable. I wish I could be like that. I’m sure the interview panel will see it, too.

Charlie’s talent for saying the exact right thing in earnest strikes again, and at just the right moment. Lucas absorbs the sentiment. He’s so used to the narratives that are unflattering, all the ways he’s been villainized, it’s weird that in the midst of all that turbulence he may have had silent admirers for every disdainful naysayer.

Lucas quickly changes the subject, pointing out that Charlie was helpful at coaching him. He asks if he had to do a lot of interviews for his schools, which Charlie denies. He wasn’t up for scholarship in most cases considering his family is well-off, and he’s pretty sure his grades and community service did most of the selling for him. It’s all about the surface-level achievement anyway. No one is especially interested in getting to know him beyond the shiny stats, and he can’t blame them.

Lucas: Well, why do you want to go there?

Charlie: What?

Lucas: To Yale or whatever. I just mean like… you know, I’m only doing all this shit for Davis because it has something I really want. A way to get to something I think I want to do. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be worth the stress, and it definitely wouldn’t be worth the money. Why do you want to go there, beyond the… shiny stats?

Good question, Lucas. Very, very good question. One that Charlie can’t answer, even as he opens his mouth to do so. He feels invisible to their institutions, but maybe that’s equally as much about him as it is about them.

He’s spared for now. Lucas’s phone buzzes, warning him that he has ten minutes until his interview slot, so he better get going. Charlie wishes him luck as he climbs out of the car. Then it’s just him, stuck sitting with the huge hole in his future plans Lucas incidentally broke open.

INT. WESTMINSTER ABBEY - NAVE - DAY

Various students wander around the nave of the church -- the main area with pews, memorials and icons hung on columns. Amidst the students are Isadora and Chai, who walk in silence, awkward tension surrounding them following their not-so-pleasant goodnight the day before.

While Isadora focuses on the intricately decorated screen that leads to the quire, Chai takes a selfie with Isaac Newton. Well, his statue, anyway. Chai asks Isadora to be in a picture with her, so Isadora lightly smiles and poses. Chai snaps the pic, then puts away her phone. Things seem to be a little more comfortable between them, so Chai broaches the topic of last night.

Chai: Listen, about what happened yesterday --

From this side of the nave, Isadora has a better view of the pews and finds whatever it was she was searching for. Unaware of the fact that Chai is mid-sentence, Isadora rushes towards a particular row of pews. Chai takes a moment to swallow down her annoyance, then follows.

Isadora slowly makes her way down the pew, analysing the space and holding out her hands as a way to measure how much room would be needed for each person to sit. Curious, Chai watches as Isadora settles on one spot. Tension lifts from Isadora’s face and she lets out a breath of relief before turning and sitting down. Chai shuffles in to sit next to her and looks in the same direction, wondering if this particular spot allows for a better view, but doesn’t notice anything. 

Chai: Why are we sitting here? 

Isadora: This is where my mom sat at Will and Kate’s wedding.

Chai is surprised, and allows herself to take in the fact that she’s sitting next to where Valerie De La Cruz once sat. It’s impressive, honestly, that Isadora remembers exactly where Val sat a whole decade after. Despite how much Isadora once claimed she didn’t care about her mother, this goes to show that she always cared -- a lot. 

Chai: Wow. Were you her plus one or something?

Isadora: [ with a shake of her head ] I watched it on TV with my foster family. Her plus one was some race car driver.

Unsure what to say next, Chai lets quiet settle between them. The opportunity to discuss the night before is gone, but Chai reassures herself that things are better today, like Isadora said. Maybe it was just jetlag…

She tentatively slides her hand towards Isadora’s and brushes it with her fingers, but Isadora once again flinches at the contact and pulls her hand away. She slides down the pew a little to create distance between her and Chai, which only rubs salt into the wound.

Knowing where she isn’t wanted, Chai wordlessly gets up and leaves. Her absence doesn’t even register with Isadora, who continues to sit in silence.

A different collection of Adams students also wander around the nave, Yindra leading the charge. She’s on a mission, approaching the front pews and claiming she wants to get the chance to pray while they’re there. Maya raises her eyebrows, amused.

Maya: Really? I didn’t take you for that kind of religious zealot.

Yindra: Your dismissive attitude notwithstanding, I see it as less zealous and more seizing an opportunity. I’m not going to pass up the chance to send out a prayer for my future in one of the most famous places of Christian worship there is. I’ll take any moment to put good energy into the universe and give a little thanks to God for what I’ve already got -- especially given the odyssey I’m about to embark on.

Well said, Yindra. Touché… Maya takes this challenge, pointedly sauntering off to a kneeler of her own. She settles down with uncertainty, clearly unfamiliar with how any of this religious stuff works. She’s a bit subconscious about it, glancing around her to make sure no one can see her being so visibly out of her element.

Maya: Where’s Charlie Gardner when you need him…

But Charlie isn’t there, the one time Maya has probably ever thought he would be useful to have around, so she’s on her own. She takes a deep breath, blowing air out through her lips almost as if she’s doing vocal warm ups.

Maya: Dear God -- oh, no, wait --

She clasps her hands together, mimicking prayer as she’s seen in the movies. There, better. She nods, satisfied, then tries again.

Maya: So, like… hey there. God. Or, whoever you are. If you’re there. Look, I don’t really do this thing, but Amino made her point, and I can’t let her one-up me. She’s already my strongest competition in the world of up and coming female superstars. No special advantages for her. [ pausing ] Anyway, I know I don’t have the wherewithal to be asking you for anything, since I’m not exactly a “worshipper.” And I wouldn’t expect it anyway -- I’ll be making my own way, cosmic interference or not, so it’s no biggie.

If God is up there listening, he has to be laughing. No one can say Maya Hart isn’t one of his most entertaining creatures… then she grows more serious, clearing her throat.

Maya: I actually thought, if it’s like, allowed, that I’d put in a request for someone else. And don’t worry, he’s one of your precious children who actually practices religion and all that, so you’ll be more willing to help him I’m sure. But um… you should send some guidance to my friend, Farkle. If you do that sort of thing. He’s got… an amazing opportunity in front of him, and all of the talent in the world to see it through -- in a surprisingly frail package. And I know he wants to follow it, that in his heart he wants to break away and see where this takes him, but… something’s holding him back. I don’t know why. I guess he’s scared, maybe. But I think this hesitation is going to keep him stuck, and he’s going to regret it.

Maya pauses, glancing up at the elegant opulence of the church in front of her. Though she’s not a believer and probably never will be, she can appreciate why someone would be. There’s something to it, the feeling of kneeling there in humility and sensing just how small you are. Small, and yet, still worth listening to in even the quietest prayers. She has to love the drama of it, in any case.

Maya: He needs to take the leap and see how far he can go. He can’t pass this up. Please don’t let him pass this up. [ a beat ] Oh, and like, amen. Thanks.

Maya bounces back to her feet, stepping away from the kneeler. As we hang on the stained glass windows shimmering with sunlight…

Interviewer, pre-lap: And why, in your opinion, should we take a chance on you? All things considered.

INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY

Lucas is seated opposite three representatives from UC Davis admissions, who we can only see from behind. We’re focused on Lucas instead, giving ample effort to put his best foot forward and make a strong impression. He’s not inauthentic -- no fake smiles or overt charm here -- but like Charlie said, he has a unique, quiet charisma. When he answers their question, speaking carefully and precisely to get every word right, there’s a soft intensity to it that is more compelling than any practiced grin could be.

Lucas: I want to study veterinary medicine, which has its roots in biology. And as far as I understand it, the core tenet to any living organism is growth. Being able to adapt, to evolve, become a better and more resilient version of what came before. And in many cases, organisms need support and the right environment to achieve that growth. The right nutrients, water, sunlight. There’s nothing in the randomness of the universe that says we have to support those things, to sustain life, but it happens anyway. [ a beat ] I know I’m not perfect. I’m not the ideal candidate on paper, and any look at my permanent record would warrant second thoughts. But I’m improving. I’m evolving. You can see it in my application -- it takes a lot of adaptation to go from expulsion at one school to being class president of another. It’s not easy, and it’s a lot of work, but… I’m putting in the effort to be better than I was before. You don’t have to take a chance on me, but… I believe with the proper environment -- Davis -- I can grow into something worth putting your support and money behind.

The interview panel considers this, one member nodding along while a couple others jot down notes. Lucas releases a breath, having endured the worst of it.

Behind his chair where his bookbag rests, his phone screen lights up with a silenced phone call. Eric’s contact name pops on the screen…

EXT. WESTMINSTER ABBEY - DAY

But the call goes unanswered, leaving Riley waiting on the other end even more disappointed. She leaves a quick message when it goes to voicemail.

Riley: Hi, it’s Riley. I’m calling from Eric’s phone because he has the international plan -- I hope everything is going okay. I just, um… I got some news and I wanted to share it with you, so give me a call back when you get the chance. No rush or anything. And try me on my cell first, because we’ll probably be at the hotel and should be able to at least try wi-fi… but um, yeah. Okay. I miss you. Hopefully talk to you soon. Love you, bye.

She reluctantly hangs up, Eric approaching cautiously. She hands the phone back to him, thanking him for letting her use it. He does his best to reassure her that getting waitlisted is not the end of the world by any means. In fact, there is a silver lining to it in that Riley is clearly good enough to keep under consideration rather than outright rejection.

Riley: Just not good enough to accept.

Eric: Hey, a delayed acceptance is still an acceptance. The destination is the destination, regardless of how long it takes to get there. And you’ve got some information now that you didn’t before, which should help you in figuring out what to do next.

Fair enough. Riley tries to accept that positive spin, allowing the hug Eric gives her. Then he braces her shoulders and waits for her to meet his eyes.

Eric: You get to decide what happens next. That’s the most important thing. Don’t forget that.

Hear, hear. Riley nods, offering a light smile. The two of them head back towards the rest of the group, off to their next stop.

EXT. REGENT’S PARK - CUMBERLAND GREEN - DAY

It’s the evening, but the bright sky and chirping birds don’t show it. Regent’s Park is somewhat busy with tourists and family walking around, and people in business suits on their way home from work. The A class arrive, Simon leading the way with his yellow flag. Eric and Harper carry two large ice box coolers, with a few of the students helping out by carrying foldable chairs, picnic blankets and shopping bags with paper plates and cups.

Once they find a spot big enough for them to spread out, Eric tells everyone to get a picnic blanket and sit in groups, then he and Harper will go around with the food. 

Simon: If anybody wants to learn more about Regent’s Park, or the history of England in general, you can sit on my picnic blanket with me. I’ll be sharing lots of fun facts and answering any questions you have for the duration of tea. 

Dylan: Oh no, are we having tea? Shit, Ash, what should I do? You said I shouldn’t have tea anymore after that time at The Lego Movie… I’m gonna fail London.

Zay overhears this, plainly informing Dylan that tea is just another word for dinner. 

Yindra: I’m dying to hear what happened at The Lego Movie, though. Please do share.

The four of them, along with Riley, get a picnic blanket to sit as a group. Meanwhile, Maya holds court with Darby, Sarah, Haley and Clarissa -- Riley and Zayby aren’t enough motivation to eat with Dylan and Asher.

Maya calls Isadora and Farkle over, but neither seem keen to join the group of girls. Farkle sits down in between Asher and Riley instead, Asher awkwardly shuffling closer to Dylan to make room for his long legs. With a pout, Maya beckons Isadora again. Elsewhere, Chai spots Darby and Sarah and heads towards them, passing Isadora on the way. 

Chai: Want to sit with me? I was going to go with Darby and Sarah but if you’d rather sit just the two of us I’m sure we can find a spare blanket.

Isadora looks around, noticing that everybody else has found a place and that Harper and Eric have started to hand out food.

Isadora: I actually was planning on sitting with Simon, but you go ahead. 

Chai: I mean, I’m happy to sit with Simon, too. 

Isadora: Honestly, it’s fine. I know you’re not into all the history stuff.

Way to tell somebody you don’t want to sit with them without actually telling them. Isadora walks over to Simon’s picnic blanket, where Jade and Nigel are already sitting. Nigel and Simon are in the midst of a debate over the meaning behind one of Shakespeare’s works, a conversation that Isadora easily slips into.

Rather than upset, Chai looks angry as she watches Isadora sit down. She has half a mind to follow Isadora and force her to spend time with her, but she realises that that would do more harm than good. Instead, she sets her jaw and marches towards Sarah and Darby. 

Maya, somewhat smug: Trouble in paradise? I knew you two would crash and burn. 

Sarah: Tell me about it.

Not exactly supportive, but Chai doesn’t care. It’s fuel to the fire that’s burning brighter with every new interaction with Isadora.

The mood isn’t too much better over in Riley’s group. Mainly that news about her waitlisting has spread, and they’re all fired up on her behalf. She tries to assure them that it’s no big deal, people get waitlisted all the time, but all of them are in agreement that if anyone deserves not to be, it’s her. Zay is especially adamant, though he might be projecting some of his own admissions frustration and impatience onto her.

It’s Dylan that finds the knack for truly cheering her though, adding a little melodrama to the rallying around Riley that makes it feel more fun and less heavy. He grows increasingly impassioned about all of the ways that Riley has changed environments for the better -- look at AAA for crying out loud! -- and Tisch simply won’t know what they’re missing. Fools, the lot of them. It’s so obvious, really, that Riley is a cut above the rest.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Jolly Holiday” as performed by Mary Poppins Original London Cast Recording || Performed by Dylan Orlando (feat. Riley Matthews, Asher Garcia, Zay Babineaux, and Ensemble) (starting at 00:15)

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

Perhaps the biggest number of the episode, so following along with the lyrics can be very helpful for this spectacle. In fact, I don’t even think I can do the performance justice trying to write it out, so I highly encourage a listen to the track and I will try my best! Dylan wastes no time in launching into the number, replacing every “Mary” fittingly with “Riley” as he showers her in compliments -- a trend that will continue throughout.

Dylan: Why, it’s a jolly holiday with Riley. Riley makes your heart so light.

Riley: Oh, really…

Dylan: When the day is grey and ordinary, Riley makes the sun shine bright!

Riley: You do talk nonsense, Dyl!

Dylan: Oh happiness is blooming all around her. The daffodils are smiling at the dove!

Riley: I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about --

Dylan leans even further into the melodrama, falling onto his back and stretching across Asher’s lap as he really milks it. Suffice to say, he matches Bert’s cheeky charm near perfectly.

Dylan: When Riley holds your hand --

Asher: Dyl!

Dylan: You feel so grand. Your heart starts beating like [ pounding his heart to the beat ] a big brass band!

Asher: [ patting his side ] You’ve got enough brass for all of us…

Then Dylan pushes himself back upright and to his feet, concluding the opening verse by approaching Riley and offering her his hands. She takes them and lets him pull her to her feet, kicking off a visual journey in song through the idyllic park.

But first we take a detour to the plastics, complaining about their stop at the park. Boring! It’s just statues, ducks, and grannies! From there, once they’re done complaining about how it has nothing to offer them, we jump straight into the next set of sung lyrics (01:55), where Dylan takes over again.

EXT. REGENT’S PARK - SPORTS GREENS - DAY

He and Asher are guiding Riley along on their walk, playfully flirting with her and bolstering her confidence as they go. They weave their way through football players and pull them into the singing -- the whole performance definitely has some “That’s How You Know” energy from Enchanted. It’s also a good time to mention what Dylan and Asher are wearing this afternoon, which are purposefully but subtly meant to emulate this famous fashion moment.

Then Dylan takes a detour, leaning fully into the Bert silliness by delivering statue pun after statue pun (to the techie boys’ great delight, especially Dave). At one point, he yoinks a straw boater hat off an OLD MAN and continues on his merry way, which the old man complains about in a… bizarrely strong Cockney accent. His adult SON tells him to relax, though, and just enjoy the performance -- how can you disdain a fella with such spirit like that? As they have their brief comedic interaction, there’s definitely the sensation that the men look oddly familiar (for film and West End fans alike).

EXT. REGENT’S PARK - BOATING LAKE - DAY

Zay takes over from there for a verse or two, arm linked with Riley as the two of them traipse along the path around the boating lake. The ensemble out on the boats sings along, only increasing their share of infectious performing energy. These American students have a contagion of joyful singing, and it’s incurable!

A few paces behind them, Asher takes the Mary verse, turning some of the appreciation towards Dylan. Because of course, Dylan was the one who managed to rally Riley out of her low mood -- and get the whole Park singing along. It’s a cute little exchange between the two of them, cementing their Mary and Bert energies, and building us right along towards the big finish…

EXT. REGENT’S PARK - QUEEN MARY’S GARDENS - DAY

Dylan links his arm with Asher’s and then they’re leading the brigade, the A class and all the parkgoers they’ve collected along the way arriving at the beautiful and scenic Queen’s Gardens for the big finish. They proceed amidst the flowers with a flourish, many of them paired up as they dance their way along together -- Zay and Riley, Jade and Nigel, Isadora and Farkle. By the time they make it to the center of the rose gardens, they’re spread out all across the greens, energetically performing the choreography together and spirits most definitely lifted.

Dylan and Dave heft Riley up onto their shoulders at the centre of the crowd, causing her to laugh, as everyone brings it home.

No wonder it’s Riley that we love!

INT. CHARLIE’S CAR - DAY

The sun is just starting to set as Charlie pulls up at Lucas’s requested drop off, the Orlando community center just across the street. Charlie squints at it, confused.

Charlie: Isn’t this Dylan’s place?

Lucas: Yeah. I crash here sometimes. And Randall’s making calzones tonight. Hard to pass up.

Charlie: Oh. Cool.

Lucas: And they’ve got a dog, so.

He lets that be the end of the sentence, like it explains everything. And to Charlie, whose most consistent best friend is Skippy, it basically does. Lucas gathers his stuff and unbuckles his seatbelt.

Lucas: Your reception thing is tomorrow, right? At your church.

Charlie: Yeah. Lots of extended relatives, old people... none of my friends since they’re all out of town. Should be a hoot.

Lucas: Well, good luck with that.

He starts to climb out of the car, then hesitates, managing to do the vulnerable but decent thing.

Lucas: Thanks for the ride.

Charlie smiles, nodding. Lucas opens the door and climbs out, starting to cross the street to the community center. Then he remembers something else, doubling back and stopping in the middle of the street.

Lucas: Hey, Charlie.

Charlie is surprised he’s still being addressed, but more concerned with how Lucas is standing in the road just waiting to get hit by a car. But it’s Lucas, after all -- no fear. Charlie rolls his window down.

Charlie: Yeah?

Lucas: You could do it, too, you know. Your own thing. [ a beat ] I mean it.

Well. That’s an unexpectedly sincere sentiment. And impactful coming from Lucas, who Charlie apparently thinks of as the master of unapologetic authenticity. A return gesture, maybe, for the favor of driving him all that way.

That’s all he’s going to get at the moment, though, because that’s about as much vulnerability as Lucas can stomach in one day before he starts going into organ failure. He doesn’t give Charlie the chance to respond, jogging the rest of the way across the street to the community center and disappearing inside.

But it’s enough. It clearly lands with Charlie, leaving a mark… and making him think. After a moment, he pulls out his phone, dialing a number.

Charlie: Hey. We need to talk.

INT. LONDON HOTEL - TECHIE ROOM - NIGHT

Westminster was a bad idea for the boys, as now they’re obsessed with the Bloody Mary myth. Nate and Jeff have come over to join Dave and Yogi and they’re all crowded around the bathroom mirror, actively working to summon the vengeful spirit.

Nate: No, no, shut up. Shut up. Everyone has to commit to this. She’s not gonna come if we half-ass it.

Jeff: She’s not gonna come period.

Nate: That’s exactly what I fucking mean, Jeff. If you’re not committed to the cause, you can show yourself out.

For the record, Jade wishes she could do the same. She’s trying to focus on a book, but the boys are so loud, and there’s nowhere for her to escape to for a break. It’s a relief when there’s a knock at the door, and she’s even more grateful when it’s Nigel on the other side.

Nigel: Wondering if you might wanna take a walk before curfew?

Jade opens her mouth to answer, just as the boys finish chanting “Bloody Mary” at increasing volume. After the third repetition, Jeff screams, causing Nate and Dave to scream in turn... until they realize Jeff was just fucking with them.

Nate: JEFF. WHAT DID I SAY?

Jade blinks, then gives Nigel a flat smile.

Jade: I thought you’d never ask.

INT. LONDON HOTEL - RILEY’S ROOM - NIGHT

Asher isn’t party to the antics in his room, having smartly escaped to hang out with Riley and Dylan before Nate took over. He’s crashed on the bed with Dylan going through pictures that they took over the course of the day. Asher frowns at one that Dylan swipes to, squinting to get a better look.

Asher: What is that supposed to be of?

Dylan: It’s not obvious? [ zooming in ] Look at that squirrel, Ash! They’re like up chilling on the abbey, welcoming us to their domain.

Asher: That’s your favorite picture you took today, isn’t it?

Dylan: Vicar squirrel. Squirrel vicar. I want her to bless our marriage.

They drop the conversation when Riley reenters the room, freshly showered and looking more at ease than she was most of the day. They ask if she’s feeling better, if the shower helped, and she confirms it did.

Riley: I really think it was just mainly the shock, you know? A lot of information to process at once that I wasn’t prepared for.

Asher: Totally. I get that.

Dylan: But it’s okay to be upset about it, too. Like, just because it’s not news you wanted to get. You’re allowed to be bummed about things not going the way you planned.

Maybe so, Dylan… though that’s obviously not easy for Riley to accept. She’s all about validating her friends’ emotions, encouraging them to feel whatever they need to feel, but it’s not so easy to practice what you preach.

Asher commiserates about unideal circumstances, though, as it’s his turn to complain about the wi-fi. He comments it’s like this place may not even have it at all… are they sure it’s not just a ruse? But his theory is disproved moments later when Riley’s phone starts buzzing, getting an incoming call.

Asher: Of course…

Dylan: You are so magical.

Riley’s expression lights up when she sees who it is, a picture of Lucas surrounded by kittens at the shelter appearing on her screen. She answers immediately.

Riley: Hello?

INT. ORLANDO HOME - DYLAN’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

The United Kingdom is intercut with Lucas back in Manhattan, changed out of his nicer clothes and back in a tee and comfortable sweats for the night. He smiles lightly when he hears her voice, realizing the call managed to go through. On the bed behind him, Dylan’s St. Bernard dog Mr. Puff is resting, idly watching Lucas move around the space.

Lucas: Hey. I got your message.

INT. LONDON HOTEL - RILEY’S ROOM - NIGHT

They’re connected, yes, but the service is spotty at best. Their voices get a little warped and Lucas cuts out for a moment, prompting Riley to start moving to find the best signal. She tells him to hold on, but to keep talking so she can see how he sounds. Dylan and Asher perk up.

Asher: Is it Lucas?

Dylan: It’s Lucas! HI, LUCAS!

Riley: Shh, I’m trying to listen!

Asher: Let’s go, Lucas James!

Dylan: LET’S GO, LUCAS JAMES!

Riley cracks up, shushing them as she continues to hover into different parts of the room. Finally, she seems to find a solution, heading towards the small balcony while the signal improves with every step. She grants Dylan and Asher a second to say hi and holds the phone out towards them, letting them shout at their best friend, then she hushes them as she steps out onto the balcony and closes the door behind her.

EXT. LONDON HOTEL - RILEY’S ROOM - BALCONY - NIGHT

With the signal clear and a quieter environment, the two of them can actually hear each other. Lucas admits he only heard about half of whatever just happened in the last minute, but she assures him it was just Dylan and Asher being silly.

Lucas: Sorry I missed your call earlier. I was, uh, preoccupied with something.

Riley: Oh, it’s okay. It wasn’t like a big thing. I just wanted… I guess I just wanted to hear your voice.

Lucas smiles to himself, bashful.

Riley: But we’re talking now, so, it’s all good. Got what I came for.

Lucas: Cool. Good. You said you had news?

Riley: Yeah. Um… [ making herself admit it ] I heard from Tisch. I got waitlisted.

Lucas: Shit.

Riley: Yeah.

Lucas shakes his head, trying to find the right thing to say. Riley fills the silence in the meantime, downplaying it.

Riley: I mean, it’s not a big deal. It’s one school. And you know, it’s like, I wasn’t even sure if I would’ve gone if I had gotten in. So it’s not like everything is ruined, or anything. It was just a surprise. That’s all.

Lucas: Still, that sucks. But they’re shitty anyway if they’re going to put you out like that. They obviously don’t realize what they’ve got in front of them -- especially if Maya got in and you didn’t.

Riley: I don’t know about that…

She’s disagreeing for the sake of cordiality, and she knows Lucas is one-hundred percent biased, but it’s still nice to hear him say it. And given how well they know each other, how close they are, Lucas hits on the true reason it stings so much effortlessly.

Lucas: You’re too good to be a second choice, Riley. If they can’t see that, then fuck them. You deserve to go somewhere that understands exactly how spectacular you are.

And though he acts like he never has the right words, he knew exactly what to say. Riley fiddles with the L charm on her necklace and chews her lip, unable to stop smiling.

Lucas: And anyway, you were stoked about Barnard, right? I feel like we talked a lot about them when you were applying. And they accepted you with a competitive offer, so clearly they know what they’re doing.

Riley: Yeah, they were my top choice otherwise.

Lucas: So you can start thinking about how you want to make the most of that now. You get to focus on all the possibilities, which I know you never get tired of.

Riley: [ with a laugh ] That’s true, I do enjoy possibilities. [ fondly ] Thanks, Lucas.

Lucas: Of course. Any time.

It almost aches, talking to him like this. Being so far apart, feeling so much that she can’t express the way she wants. It’s practically radiating off her, how much she loves him written all over her face.

Riley: I wish you were here. I know it’s kind of silly, because it’s only been a couple of days, but I miss you. A lot.

Lucas: [ after a moment ] Me too.

But he isn’t there, so they’ll have to make do. Riley isn’t ready to say goodbye yet, especially since there’s no telling when the next chance she’ll have decent wi-fi will be, so she keeps the conversation going.

Riley: I thought about you a lot today, actually. We went to Regent’s Park, and they’ve got a zoo...

Lucas climbs onto Dylan’s bed next to Mr. Puff, reclining back and settling in for a while.

Lucas: I hope you’re going to elaborate. [ softly ] Tell me about it.

So she does. Riley drops into a sitting position on the balcony, leaning back against the metal bars and launching into a thrilling recap. As the camera drifts downwards to the room a couple floors below...

Jack, pre-lap: Sounds like you’re handling it well, then.

INT. LONDON HOTEL - ERIC’S ROOM - NIGHT

Eric is on the phone as well, though he has the luxury of the international phone plan so he can comfortably sit at the desk in his room rather than cram onto the balcony. He’s just finished catching Jack up on the trip so far, and yes, the fact that no one has gotten injured or disappeared is a source of weary pride. Jack assures him that everything is running smoothly on the home front too when he asks.

Eric: Look at us, dividing and conquering. What’s that known as… could it be effective leadership? No idea what Yancy thinks he’s got on us.

Jack: To be fair, your leadership capacity was never in question.

Eric: No being fair to that man. He’s a hack, and he’s wrong. Moving on.

Jack laughs, Eric pleased with how he’s managing to keep him in lighter spirits.

Eric: You’ll be happy to know, actually, that I’ve been giving your proposition some thought.

Jack: [ tentatively hopeful ] Really? About filling out the principal application?

Eric: Don’t get too excited, I just said I’m thinking about it. But you may have made a few compelling points.

Jack: I often do.

Eric: What would be the harm in the practice of it, you know? Could be good to flex those muscles. And I know it wouldn’t go anywhere, since like I said, you’re the ideal candidate. So… I don’t know. Maybe it would be worth the time. I’m considering it, at least, so I hope you’re pleased.

Jack: Eric, I have no doubt in my mind that you would make an excellent principal. Especially at Adams.

Wow… Jack sounds pretty impassioned about that concept, especially for something only hypothetical. But it touches Eric all the same, his expression not looking all that different from how Riley’s looked while talking to Lucas.

Eric: Well, I should go. My night to do curfew rounds.

Jack: Best of luck, authoritarian-in-training. Make me proud.

Eric: Still stand by my stance that it would be better if you were here.

Jack doesn’t seem inclined to argue with that. But for now, nothing to be done. The two exchange goodnights and warm wishes, Eric smiling as he hangs up the phone.

INT. LONDON HOTEL - LOBBY - NIGHT

Jade and Nigel have lost track of time, situated in a couple of comfortable chairs in a small corner of the spacious lobby. They’re deep in conversation, the casual traipse around the hotel having shifted into a philosophical, meaningful chat that neither of them want to end.

Naturally, they’ve drifted to talking about the future, contrasting it against the minor vent session Jade already had in regards to the techie boys. She admits that she doesn’t really think it’s their fault, her irritation. It’s more about her.

Nigel: Why do you say that?

Jade: This is going to sound crazy, but I’m like… I feel like I’ve outgrown it. All of it. Does that make sense? Like, I love the techies. They’re like my brothers, they’re family. And I love being part of the A class. But the way everyone feels, this kind of drama around everything ending or whatever… I don’t feel that. If anything, I’m ready for something new. Sometimes it almost feels like it can’t get out of here fast enough. [ with an embarrassed laugh ] Does that make me a bitch? Am I way more soulless than I thought?

Nigel: I don’t think so. And I definitely don’t think you’re a bitch.

Jade: That’s impressive, considering the amount of Jade-specialty vent sessions you’ve had to listen to by now.

Nigel: You’re human. And remember, even your harshest mood is probably still leagues kinder than Maya Hart on any given day. Don’t forget context when you’re self-analyzing your own ugly emotions.

Good point. Jade runs a hand through her hair, tilting her head as she listens attentively to his perspective on it.

Nigel: But honest, it doesn’t make you a bitch. I get what you mean. Everyone is going to come around at different times, and deal with change in their own way, but I’m excited about what comes next. I think you said it right, the thing about outgrowing Adams. It’s not that you don’t appreciate it, and the people are always going to be family. But we’re ready to move onto the next thing. That’s okay. That’s a good thing, actually, most people would probably be jealous of how ready for it you are.

There is truly nothing so bonding and validating as a late-night conversation with someone you love. Jade smiles, grateful. She reaches out and takes his hand.

Jade: At least there’s one thing I know I’m never going to outgrow.

Aw… yeah, it’s kind of crazy to remember how long Jade has had feelings for Nigel. And it’s true that even as they’ve changed, she hasn’t outgrown them -- they’ve simply matured with them. Nigel beams, lifting their hands and planting a brisk kiss on her knuckles.

It would be nice if they could outgrow their rotten luck on this trip, though. They’re startled out of their quiet comfortability when Eric comes into the lobby on his rounds, spotting them sitting there. They blink at him, realizing they probably shouldn’t be hanging around in the lobby, and Nigel quickly checks his watch.

Jade: What time is it?

Nigel: Oh, shit --

From where he’s staring at them, dreading having to actually reprimand someone, Eric releases a pained sigh.

Eric: I really didn’t want to have to be an authoritarian…

EXT. LONDON HOTEL - ROOFTOP - NIGHT

The view from the top of the hotel isn’t the best, looking down on the streets of London and other hotels, but tonight is a little more interesting. There’s a night market going on, with vendors selling various cuisines and tourists who don’t have curfews wandering around. A SITARIST gently strums, creating a calm atmosphere.

Chai, who watches the scene from the rooftop, is anything but calm, though. She paces around, chewing on her nails as she waits.

When Isadora opens the door and creeps out, Chai drops her arms and halts. 

Isadora: I got your text. 

Chai: [ passive aggressive ] Nice of you to show up.

Confused and uncomfortable, Isadora asks what’s going on, to which Chai rolls her eyes. 

Chai: What do you think, Isa? [ off Isadora’s visible confusion ] You’ve been pushing me away this whole trip. No, even before the trip. I feel more like your annoying friend you secretly hate than your girlfriend. I’m fed up of it.

Oh. Isadora isn’t sure what to say to that. A STAFF MEMBER gets up from where they’re sat in a smoking area. They put out their cigarette and mutter a good luck to Isadora as they pass. She’s gonna need it. 

Chai: Why? I deserve to know. Did I do something wrong? Do you not want to be together anymore? What is it? 

Isadora: I… I don’t know. 

Chai: [ with a scoff ] You don’t know. Wonderful. That’s great, Isadora. Real great.

Isadora gets angry, not appreciating being shouted at. 

Isadora: What do you want me to say? Sorry? I’m sorry I offended you, Chai. There. 

Chai: I want you to tell me what’s going on with you! I may not be your therapist or Eric, but I’m your girlfriend and I deserve to know why you’re treating me like this. I deserve to be recognised.

Tell her, Chai. All of Chai’s frustration and anger over being ignored and feeling invisible yet again comes out as she vents. While this helps Chai feel somewhat better, as expressing your feelings always does, it overwhelms Isadora. She wraps her arms around herself and chews her lip. 

Chai: Relationships take work, Isa. If my parents divorce taught me anything, it’s that communication is key. But you don’t talk to me. You can’t even stand to be in my presence. It’s not fair. Either break up with me or act like my fucking girlfriend and COMMUNICATE!

Isadora opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. Rather than give Isadora time to process everything she just said, Chai snaps that this just goes to prove her point. Her patience has worn too thin to be considerate. 

Isadora, quietly: Are you saying you want to break up? 

Chai: If that’s what you want, yes. I don’t want to be strung along when you want out.

Is that a yes or a no? Isadora isn’t sure. There’s no time to clarify, because Eric comes out of the rooftop door. Both girls turn to look at him. 

Eric: One of the staff told me two Americans were up here. You two okay? 

Chai, flat: Dandy. 

Eric: … great. It’s past lights out, so I’m going to have to punish you both I’m afraid. 

Chai: Fine. I don’t even care anymore.

Chai shoots one last glare towards Isadora before moving past Eric and heading downstairs. Yikes. Eric frowns, concerned. 

Eric: What’s going on there? Do you want to talk about it? 

Isadora, snapping: No. Leave me alone.

She marches through the door and into the lift, pressing the button for the lobby before the doors slide shut. 

Eric: Wait, where are you going? Your room is on the third floor. Isadora?

It’s too late. She’s gone. With a sigh, Eric pulls out his phone and enters the stairwell. 

Eric, into the phone: Harper? You’re gonna have to take over for me…

EXT. LONDON - NIGHT MARKET - NIGHT

Isadora steps out of the hotel into the colourful, lively night market. No longer in her clothes from the day, but a ‘60s punk inspired look complete with hair sticking up in spikes, heavy eye makeup and a leather jacket with chains on it. Despite the world around her being in colour, Isadora herself is in black and white.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Paint It, Black” as performed by The Rolling Stones || Performed by Isadora De La Cruz

The sitarist strums to start us off. Isadora gets a couple of coins out of her pocket and drops them into the sitarist’s open case. The gentle-looking Indian man gives her a nod in gratitude, and when Isadora nods in return, the drums kick in. In an instant, the sitarist transforms. He’s now dressed in punk clothes, and becomes monochrome like Isadora, who sets off down the street.

I see a red door And I want it painted black No colors anymore I want them to turn black

She sings in a flat voice, staring dead into the camera, unaffected by the jovial people around her.

A few feet behind her, Eric struggles to catch up as he moves through the crowd. While Isadora channels her inner Medusa and turns the people and scenery around her into a black and white 60s pink fever dream, Eric remains in colour and modern.

Isadora passes a flower stall and picks up a handful of colourful flowers.

With flowers and my love Both never to come back

She scrunches up the flowers in her fist, the now colourless petals fall to the floor. When Eric gets to the florist, he apologises and gives them some money for the ruined flowers.

Isadora arrives at the end of the street where she can look at the river Thames in the distance. The last of the sunset reflects on the water, the only remaining colour around her.

If I look hard enough Into the setting sun My love will laugh with me Before the morning comes

She finishes off the performance in the same spot, dancing like a punk rocker in a mosh pit. She slows to a standstill and looks across at the sunset.

I wanna see the sun Blotted out from the sky I wanna see it painted, painted, painted Painted black, yeah

A downpour of rain brings an end to the performance, melting away the monochrome and punk as it drenches everything. Isadora allows the rain to shower her, but Eric -- who’s finally reached her -- covers his head with his arms. 

Eric: Are you done being an angsty teenager now? 

Isadora: Yes. 

Eric: I’m going to have to add another punishment for this, you know that, right?

They walk back to the hotel as the vendors pack up their stalls and tourists run inside for cover. Isadora is certainly more colourful now with her green hair, but she still looks just as punk and angsty as before. 

Isadora: Whatever.

She quickens her pace so that Eric lags behind. He shakes his head. 

Eric: Adopt a teenager, they said. It’ll be so rewarding, they said.

EXT. LONDON HOTEL - DAY

 The A class is filing onto the bus the next morning, Freya standing by the doors and helping count as they board while Simon flatly delivers a rousing explanation of their itinerary for the day. They’re on their way to the National Theatre, so better get ready for some fantastic playacting.

As the techie boys board the bus, they each greet Freya cheerfully, mimicking tipping their hats at her. For her brusque demeanor, she seemed relatively charmed by their silliness.

Meanwhile, Harper and Eric have pulled aside Jade, Nigel, Chai, and Isadora. Harper has taken over the tough love authority role, informing them that due to their breach of curfew yesterday, it’s been decided that they will spend the remainder of the day separated. Nigel and Jade attempt to plead their case.

Nigel: We really weren’t trying to skirt curfew. We just lost track of time.

Jade: I’ve been a perfectly rule-abiding student my entire career at Adams.

Isadora, helpfully: You participated in the techie revolt.

Jade: [ without looking at her ] Thank you, didn’t ask for your input. Mister E, you know we weren’t doing anything wrong. Please.

Eric, reluctantly: Being out past curfew is doing something wrong, Jade. You and Nigel will have plenty of time to spend together on the rest of the trip. [ nodding towards the bus ] Let’s go.

Jade sighs, spinning and heading towards the bus in defeat. Nigel waits a moment and then uncertainly follows, not sure exactly how much distance he’s supposed to put between them. Harper and Eric turn to Chai and Isadora.

Eric: And Isadora, your extra punishment for leaving the hotel on your own --

Isadora: You were with me the entire time. 

Eric: Yes, but you left without me. I simply followed you. Regardless, your extra punishment is no spending money for two days. Every time you leave the hotel, or group, without supervision or permission, another two days will be added. 

Isadora: I’m eighteen, I can spend my money if I want to.

Eric gives her a warning look. Not one from the school trip supervisor, but one from a dad. Isadora sighs and nods.

Harper: Any other arguments from you, ladies?

They glance at each other, still fuming from their argument. Chai shrugs, projecting aloof.

Chai: A little space will be nice, actually.

She turns to go, marching towards the bus. Eric watches the exchange, eyeing Isadora curiously. Ready to talk about it yet? Isadora shakes her head defiantly, not in the mood. She stomps away, Harper offering Eric a supportive pat on the back. Being the authority ain’t no joke!

INT. NATIONAL THEATRE - LOBBY - DAY

Simon and Eric make sure each of the students has a ticket to the production they’re about to see of Oliver! Harper instructs them that although they can’t control which seat they get, they’re welcome to swap amongst themselves if they see fit like the plane.

INT. NATIONAL THEATRE - OLIVIER THEATRE - DAY

Farkle has settled into his seat, one of the first in the class. As fate would have it, who should have the seat next to him but Isadora. They exchange smiles when she drops down next to him, Isadora already more relaxed than she’s been on the rest of the trip so far.

Farkle: We’ve got to stop meeting like this.

Isadora: Why do you make everything weird? Stop.

Farkle: I’m just saying, there’s some kind of karma going on here that you and I somehow always end up stuck together. I’m just not sure which one of us is getting punished.

Isadora: Mutual destruction.

Oh, aye. Farkle nods, accepting that with an amused smirk. He does ask though if she didn’t bother to try and swap a seat so Chai can sit with them. Isadora shrugs.

Isadora: We can’t anyway. We got banned from interacting today.

Farkle frowns, bewildered. He starts to question further, but they’re interrupted by Maya arriving to join them. She plops into the seat on the other side of Farkle, greeting them brightly.

Farkle: You too, huh? Guess we really are tied by the red string.

Isadora: Strangled, maybe.

Maya: What? Oh, no, this wasn’t luck. I threatened Yogi into trading with me. [ with a beam ] Should be a jolly good show.

Another ominous statement that needs elaboration… but no time. The lights dim, signaling the start of the show as the orchestra tunes below. Farkle and Isadora exchange a look, the latter playfully bumping his elbow on the arm rest between them as they settle in for the first act.

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - DAY

Charlie is nearly ready for his reception, looking cute and polished in his khakis and dress shirt. No tie yet though. He pulls on the navy suit jacket and adjusts the sleeves, touching up his hair in the closet mirror. It needs to look combed and styled just the right way so that most of his guests won’t even notice the length.

Rosie knocks on the door, stepping inside the room when Charlie nods her in. She’s dressed in a cute floral sundress.

Rosie: You look like a nerd.

Charlie: Wow, thank you, dear sister of mine. What a nice thing to say to me, on this, the day of my celebration.

Rosie: I didn’t say it was a bad thing. It’s just a fact. And you are a nerd, so it’s fitting.

Charlie: You look nice, though. Bit bold on the eye makeup. I mean, I don’t mind, but don’t you think mom is gonna say something?

Rosie: Who cares? And honestly, no. You are the sole recipient of her smothering attention today -- I’m just the errand girl. [ holding out her hand ] She wanted me to bring you this, so you didn’t forget it.

A Yale lapel pin. Just in case anybody forgets for five seconds that he got accepted. Charlie takes it, barely hiding his reluctance.

Charlie: Great. Thanks. I’ll be down in a second.

Rosie nods, then hesitates. It’s obvious there’s something on the tip of her tongue, something she wants to say… but she doesn’t really know how to say it, or maybe even really exactly what it is, so she doesn’t try. She retreats and leaves Charlie alone.

Charlie looks at his reflection again, really scrutinizing it. It’s going to be a long day of presenting… he needs to brace himself as much as he can. He goes to get some fresh air, stepping out onto his balcony as the orchestration kicks up…

EXT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BALCONY - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Where Is Love?” as performed by Oliver! London Palladium Cast || Performed by Isadora De La Cruz, Farkle Minkus, Riley Matthews, Charlie Gardner, and Zay Babineaux

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

Charlie leans against the rail of his balcony, turning the Yale pin over in his fingers. A shiny accessory for all those shiny stats… he sighs, looking out to his neighborhood and closing his eyes. Absorbing the temporary calm.

INT. NATIONAL THEATRE - OLIVIER THEATRE - DAY

At the same time, the production of Oliver! is in full swing, teeing up the famous track. Our key A class players watch with varied levels of interest, the actual Oliver actor kicking off the song with the first verse.

Then, things get a little interesting. Smooth transitions and creative camera angles allow us to seamlessly move from one performer to the next, creating a tapestry of interpretations.

Isadora picks up the slack first, echoing the sentiments of the show as she takes over the next couple of lines from her spot in the audience next to Farkle. Her expression is pensive, heavy, speaking to any number of things -- her late mother, her fracturing romance, her friends going in any number of directions. She and Farkle harmonize on “that’s only meant for me,” cueing the first transition…

Only it seems at first glance like the actual performer is taking back over -- and that’s because Farkle is now occupying the stage. He’s inhabiting the role of Oliver (finally reaching his peak as sickly Victorian orphan), dressed in the costume and smeared with dirt, but fully immersed in the performance. It isn’t until his actual self chimes in, taking over halfway through and watching himself from the audience, that we understand his take -- is love the dream, the art, the opportunities he could chase to a stage in Los Angeles… or is it sitting right next to him, not wanting him to go anywhere? He glances at Isadora, contemplative.

‘Til I am beside the someone who…

Riley and Farkle’s vocals overlap next, and she takes his place on the stage. Only her set up is different -- stripped down, simplistic, and she’s plain-clothed -- and there’s only one member in the audience. She looks directly at an imaginary Lucas as she sings the famed title lines, eyes shining and the world just the two of them. The only audience she cares about; the one who has been elevating her to be more almost since they met.

Where is love?

EXT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BALCONY - DAY

Charlie examines the Yale pin, growing more and more averse the longer he does. He knows for sure that it isn’t love -- that there’s nothing he’s more apathetic about -- but if Yale isn’t the answer, what is? If not there, then where? Where does he truly belong?

Who can say where she may hide Must I travel far and wide?

Zay’s vocals ease in and harmonize effortlessly with Charlie’s, the screen splitting in a fade to show both of them as they share the next line. Then focus is solely Zay’s for a moment, him standing alone on the empty stage.

INT. NATIONAL THEATRE - OLIVIER THEATRE - DAY

There’s no one watching his performance, his question more of a shout into the void. With everything so frozen in time, on every front, he has to wonder when things will resume -- when someone will start putting him first again, that he can mean something to.

Then he prompts the final crescendo, all of the vocalists joining back together for a strong harmonized finish.

EXT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BALCONY - DAY

As the orchestration peters out, Charlie takes another look at the lapel pin… then pockets it, choosing not to put it on. He heads back into his room.

INT. NATIONAL THEATRE - OLIVIER THEATRE - DAY

The audience breaks into applause as the performer wraps up the rendition, the A class clapping along. The production rolls right along, oblivious to the projection the ensemble just imagined through the performance.

INT. CHARLIE’S CHURCH - BANQUET HALL - DAY

Charlie’s reception is off without a hitch, a pleasant and charming gathering set up in the lovely banquet hall of their church. It’s well-attended for a graduation party, though it’s anyone’s guess how many of those people are there for Eleanor versus the actual man of the hour. She’s clearly in her element, entertaining a gaggle of church ladies and getting ample opportunity to brag about her golden son and all his accomplishments.

Eleanor: That’s right, Yale. Oh, we’re so excited. And you know, I don’t want to jinx anything -- but he’s been quite friendly with one of his good friends these last few months. Riley?

Trina: Oh, of course. You’ve mentioned her plenty.

Danielle: And we saw the prom photos! Such a gorgeous duo.

Maitland: Eleanor… you’re not saying --

Eleanor, coyly: I’m only saying, ladies. Keep your ears to the ground -- there might be some big news on that front any day now.

Well, I wouldn’t bet your pass to Heaven on it, Eleanor. The ladies twitter enthusiastically anyway, though, all sold on the concept of dear, darling Charlie perhaps announcing a commitment to Riley Matthews.

As misrepresentative as that sentiment is, Charlie isn’t completely without peers of his own. EVAN SCOTT has shown up to offer his congratulations, chatting with Charlie comfortably by the gift table where he’s easily accessible for guests to come and pay him well wishes. It’s nice of Evan to show up, and Charlie clearly appreciates it -- perhaps an actual friend came out of the hell that was Haverford after all.

Evan: I’m sure the rest of the guys would’ve come too, but I guess there’s a lot going on right now. Lots of post-graduation travel, you know?

They’d have to be invited to even know to show up, Evan, and even if they were, Charlie knows damn well that would never happen. He offers a tight smile anyway, opting not to get into it.

Charlie: Totally. Ha ha.

He’s about to gain another unexpected ally. He nearly falls over when Rosie bolts over and rams into him, speaking so fast and in a hushed whisper that he can’t even understand her.

Charlie: You excuse me for a second, Evan? I think my sister’s been possessed.

Evan laughs, giving them space. Charlie gets Rosie to calm down, instructing her to speak slowly so he has even a chance of understanding what’s got her so energized. She’s breathless, and her eyes are wide.

Rosie: Bridgette. She’s -- did you know that she was -- Bridge, she’s --

Her name was all Charlie needed to hear. He stabilizes Rosie by steadying her shoulders and then glances around her, looking towards the doorway.

Lo and behold, the rumors are true -- and spreading quickly throughout the congregation. Bridgette Gardner has arrived, timid but decisively, making an unexpected and triumphant return to the fray. She’s at least spared Charlie the drama of wearing a lace bralette by showing up in a casual but classy black jumpsuit, but her mere presence is enough to get people talking no matter what she chose to wear.

She and Charlie lock eyes, the latter breaking into a smile. Yes, it’s clear he was actually expecting her. He ignores all the eyes on him as he makes his way across the room and goes to greet her at the entrance, then suspends any potential assumption that she isn’t welcome by pulling her into a hug.

Well, this is guaranteed to be the talk of the event when everyone heads home this afternoon -- forget all of Eleanor’s careful planning. The woman herself is shell-shocked, doing her best to maintain appearances and appear unflappable but obviously stunned by the surprise arrival. Ambrose stares from across the room where he’s chatting with other husbands, equally caught off guard but seemingly not affronted by his daughter’s sudden reappearance.

Bridgette and Charlie pull apart. She scans the room around them, the nosy partygoers eyeing them with rapt interest, then raises an eyebrow at him. She offers a brave smirk.

Bridgette: Nice tie.

She’s right, it is a nice tie -- and she’d know, since she picked it out. Charlie glances down at it, a tasteful but simple floral pattern in soft blues, greens, and purples. Fresh, understated, and far more like Charlie than anything else picked out for the reception.

He returns her smile, then invites her further into the party.

Grace, pre-lap: So you think it went well?

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - KITCHEN - DAY

Lucas and GRACE FRIAR are chatting at the kitchen table, Lucas helping her go through bills as they recap the gist of his interview. It’s hard for him to say, but all things considered, he didn’t think it went poorly. There’s a chance, at least, which is more than Lucas usually has to go off of.

It’s clear from the expression on her face that Grace is proud of him. She doesn’t know how to articulate that, and she’s only able to really show it in the moments when he’s not looking, but the glimmer in her eyes and small smile on her face leave little room for doubt.

She reiterates that she hopes it works out, because they really need the financial support. Going through the bills just makes that all the more clear… but she thinks he can do it. He can get the aid. And he’s been saving all that money to supplement it -- which he’ll need every cent of, to be sure -- but it could really happen. He might get out of here.

Lucas is obviously trying to keep his expectations subterranean levels of low, but even he has an excited edge to his voice when he talks about it. They transition to discussing the rest of the day, Grace asking if he’s got plans. With Riley and Dylan and Asher out of town, he must be bored stuck here with her.

Lucas: I’ve found bizarre ways to keep myself busy. But I have a quick thing to do in a few minutes, then I’m probably gonna go to the Orlandos again for dinner. I think Randall is making tacos.

Grace, wistfully: That sounds delicious. I can’t remember the last time I had a really good taco. I don’t know what I’m going to be doing for dinner… just pick-up, I suppose.

Lucas: Dad’s not eating with you?

Grace: He has a doctor’s appointment. Said he probably wouldn’t be hungry after.

Lucas: [ with a scoff ] Since when does anyone in this apartment go to the doctor…

He doesn’t bother to hide the bitterness in his voice. But Grace merely shrugs, claiming he just told her about it this morning. She thinks it’s just his annual physical -- something the two of them don’t get the privilege of having, of course -- but that’s all she knows.

Lucas gets up to get ready to go, claiming if she wants, he can ask Randall if she can come over for dinner. She waves him off, not wanting him to go to the trouble, but Lucas insists.

Lucas: Come on, mom. You deserve to have a really good taco sometimes.

Well, when you put it like that… Grace laughs to herself, then shrugs.

Grace: Why not. Better than anything I would throw together here, I’m sure.

That’s settled, then! Lucas tells her he’ll let her know when to head over tonight. First, though, he’s got business to take care of.

EXT. COVENT GARDEN - DAY

Covent Garden is bustling with people, tourists and locals alike. Boutiques line the streets, along with plenty of cafés and restaurants. The class is free to roam on their own (even Isadora), and they have a good couple of hours to do all the shopping they desire (except Isadora).

As the class sets off to explore, Eric thanks Freya for filling in for Harper. 

Freya: Don’t worry about it. Got nuffin’ else to do but sit in my bus, ‘ave I?

Eric is a little bewildered by Freya’s thick West Country accent, not having heard her talk this much before, but thanks her once again. He turns to Simon and asks him to show him where the best coffee is. If he’s going to survive any longer on this trip, he’s going to need a lot more caffeine.

Elsewhere, the techie boys arrive at the square where professional street performers work. There’s a STRING QUARTET playing music that matches the sunny weather and upbeat atmosphere, a CIRCUS PERFORMER walking around on super high stilts in stripy colourful trousers, and… a dog? A DOG MAN? A man’s head somehow stuck in a kennel? Whatever it is, their attention has been caught.

The dog man greets them as they run over to him, his accent northern and his tone depressed. It’s unclear whether the depression is part of the character or because of the fact that he’s playing this character. 

Nate: Dude! This is amazing! Quick, get a pic of me and this guy.

Jeff: Genuinely iconic. 

Dylan: Can I film you for my vlog? 

Dog Man: What the hell is a vlog?

Well, this’ll certainly keep them entertained for a while.

Jade and Isadora are wandering around the fruit market. Both separated from the other half of their couples, but one a lot more upset about it than the other. 

Jade: This whole thing is so insanely stupid. It’s totally cruel to ban us from interacting... we were literally just talking.

Isadora: Is it really that big a deal? It’s like one day. Why do you care?

Jade: ... because he’s my boyfriend? Because we were excited to hang out on this trip together? I don’t know. [ a beat ] You know, Dora, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’ve been a little sharp.

Isadora: No kidding?

Jade: Like I get it, I’m not in the best mood either. But... especially since you don’t even seem to care about your punishment, seems kind of weird.

Someone actually calling Isadora out on her behavior -- someone other than her father figure, that is -- kind of snaps her out of it. She blinks, twisting her fingers together.

Isadora: Sorry. Didn’t even realize.

Jade: It’s fine. I’m just saying. And like, you don’t even have to deal with it, really, since your girlfriend isn’t even here...

Isadora gets lost in thought, contemplating what Jade said. Has she been as barbed as everyone seems to think? Speaking of, where is Chai? And Harper, for that matter?

INT. GUILDHALL SCHOOL - CORRIDOR - DAY

The women sit in a makeshift waiting area along with other hopeful university students and their guardians at Guildhall University, a school dedicated to the musical and theatre arts. Chai seems nervous, but determined, tapping her foot lightly as they wait.

TRUDY, a short middle-aged woman with bright blue hair and a multi-patterned dress on, pushes open a door. 

Trudy: Rebecca Fresco?

Chai stands up and follows Trudy into her final audition. Harper gives her a thumbs up.

Harper: You got this.

Chai gives Harper a nervous smile. The door swings shut.

INT. GUILDHALL SCHOOL - REHEARSAL ROOM - DAY

Along a table sit the ADMISSIONS PANEL. There are six of them, including Trudy, who sits down in her chair while Chai takes position in the middle of the room. 

Chai: I actually go by my middle name -- Chai -- not Rebecca.

Trudy apologises and makes a note of her preferred name. She tells Chai that she’s the only American who’s gotten this far in the process. There are a couple of other foreign students, but they’re all from Europe. She goes on to explain that because this is the first year of their new, experimental arts degree, there’s a lot of things still in the air, and it will be shaped around what the students need and want. 

Trudy: Is there any particular part of theatre arts that you’re most interested in? I know you went to a performing arts high school, so I expect that’s your main focus? 

Chai: It is currently, yes. I’m very open to exploring other areas of the arts, though. My school has a way of bringing people together no matter what their focus is or where their talents lay, so I’ve gotten the opportunity to learn about the technical production side of theatre, too. 

Trudy: That’s great. What do you think you’d gravitate towards when studying here? 

Chai: Definitely dancing and vocal performance, but also stage makeup and costuming. I’m skilled in hair and makeup, and this past semester I’ve been learning the basics of designing and making clothes. 

Trudy: Brill. We can definitely cater to that. [ a beat as she and the others write things down ] Okay. You’ve prepared a performance for this audition, correct?

Chai nods. She has a vocal performance, then a dance performance. One of the admissions people gets the prepared music up on their phone and presses play.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “I Know I Have A Heart” as performed by Cinderella West End Original Cast || Performed by Chai Fresco & Isadora De La Cruz

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

Chai takes a breath, then sings. Her voice is bright and clear and she hits the notes with relative ease. She’s come a long way since the beginning of her journey at Adams and the days of being a backup singer for Maya. What makes this performance so impressive, though, is the passion behind it. The lyrics hit close to home at the moment, and the emotion she expresses packs a punch.

I was so not naïve With no heart on my sleeve Always walked out before I was rejected

When the orchestra comes in, Chai begins to move. She uses the space as if it’s a stage, treating the panel as an audience rather than the people deciding her fate. Her stage presence shines, the role of heartbroken princess a perfect fit.

I was so unaware That I could fall so hard But what good is a heart If you don't care?

EXT. COVENT GARDEN - NEAL’S YARD - DAY

We cut to the person in question, Isadora. She’s in a smaller part of Covent Garden full of colour. Some of the buildings have their walls painted, while others leave the bricks bare and instead paint the window frames and shutters.

Isadora looks through a shop window, then turns as she takes over the song.

Should have known all along That I need to be strong For a girl who's like me There's no happy ending

She walks towards a boutique, fancy dresses and glass slippers in the window. When the music swells into the chorus, she begins to waltz around the yard. We cut between her and Chai, who’s doing the same. A slow dance cut in two.

And it's shattered and bruised And now the laugh's on me Anyone want a heart that's barely used?

We continue to transition between the two as they both take on the final chorus together. They both put all of their anguish and frustration into the song, their vocals even more powerful and heart wrenching when harmonised.

INT. GUILDHALL SCHOOL - REHEARSAL ROOM - DAY

We end on Chai, breathing heavily after the final belt. For a moment the room remains silent, the emotional performance having suddenly made the atmosphere heavy, but then the panel burst into applause.

Chai allows herself a small smile, but knows that it isn’t over yet -- both for her audition, and relationship with Isadora.

INT. CHARLIE’S CHURCH - BANQUET HALL - DAY

Bridgette saunters over to Charlie by the food table, leaning close to speak in conspiratorial tones as she reaches for a carrot stick. Both of them are very aware that all eyes continue to drift towards them, but for once Charlie doesn’t seem afraid of the attention. In fact, in a weird way, he almost feels a sort of pride.

Bridgette: Am I correct in guessing you didn’t let mom in on your little plan to invite me to the party?

Charlie: I don’t know what you mean? Doesn’t she seem completely in the loop?

Bridgette: Mm mm mm mm mm. Blasphemous behavior, and on such a momentous day. What gave you such a dastardly idea, Charlie -- the devil himself?

All jokes aside, Bridgette admits that she’s glad he asked her to come. It’s nice to be with the sisters again, and the look on Eleanor’s face was worth it alone. But it was a pretty sharp change of pace from wanting everything to go “smoothly” -- what made him change his mind? Charlie smiles, shrugging nonchalantly.

Charlie: I can do my own thing now and then.

That doesn’t make much sense to Bridgette, but it’s Charlie. She’s not going to question it. She lightly pinches his side, enjoying the feeling of being co-conspirators again -- but she clams up when Ambrose approaches. He clears his throat, gently getting Charlie’s attention.

Ambrose: Think there might be a bit of a mix up with the guest list. Are you expecting someone else?

You mean, aside from resurrecting the long-lost sister? Charlie looks appropriately confused, following Ambrose’s nod towards the entrance where Eleanor seems to be debating with a wayward soul who she is desperately trying to gatekeep from the party. She’s already had enough trespassers for one reception, thank you very much!

When Charlie recognizes who she’s confronting, his jaw drops open slightly. Lucas?

He exchanges a look with Ambrose before making a beeline for the door, intercepting his mother before she tears a biblical new one into Lucas.

Charlie: Mom, mom, it’s cool. I know him. He’s -- he’s a friend from Adams.

Eleanor: Well, he isn’t on the guest list.

Lucas: I’m not much of a list person.

Charlie: Seriously, mom, it’s okay. I’ll take care of it.

Eleanor remains displeased, but she allows Charlie to take over. She flurries back over to her friends in a huff -- how many other ways could this go wrong? Charlie waits until she’s out of earshot, turning his gaze back to Lucas with a million questions.

Lucas, deadpan: She seems nice.

Charlie: What are you doing here? I mean, not that it’s a problem. Despite the indignation of my mom -- she’s having a rough day.

Lucas: Rest assured, I’m not here to gate crash. I’m in and out; I think if I hung around too long in this place I’d probably burst into flames.

You’re not the only one, Lucas. He continues, removing his hands from behind his back to reveal he’s holding an envelope.

Lucas: I’m just playing messenger.

Charlie raises his eyebrows, looking at Lucas in surprise as he takes the parcel. It’s decently-sized for an envelope, and his name is scrawled on the front in Riley’s familiar loopy handwriting.

When he opens it and pulls out the card inside, though, it’s much more than just a message from Riley. It’s a custom-made card -- with the artistic expertise of Dylan, Asher, and Jade behind the design -- and on the back and all along the inside, his A class peers have written him congratulations sentiments and signed it. Even the teachers contributed, a kind message from Jack, Eric, and Harper present on the inside flap.

And yes, even Zay. He’s found a way to keep it casual while still meaningful, depth behind the message concealed in plain sight amidst all the other well wishes and in spite of how weird things are between them at the moment.

Good job surviving. Wherever the hell you’re going after this, don’t forget where you belong… or whatever 1D would say.

Charlie laughs, a bit choked up. Sure, none of them could be there in person due to bad scheduling, but he was dead wrong if he thought they were going to let him celebrate alone -- least of all when Riley Matthews is involved. 

Charlie: This is great. Thanks for delivering. You can tell Riley it was well-received.

Lucas: My life’s work.

Charlie: Are you sure you don’t want to stay? I know my mom seems scary, but --

Lucas: Believe me, she is far from the scariest thing I’ve ever confronted. But I’ll pass. It’s taco night at the Orlandos, so I’ve got better places to be.

So with that, he’ll leave him be. Charlie thanks him again for bringing the card, letting his focus drift back to the gift once Lucas is gone. Then he lifts his gaze, something across the room catching his eye.

Ambrose has taken the spot he vacated, actually talking to Bridgette. It doesn’t look like the easiest conversation in the world, but it’s something, amicable communication for the first time in years. And if Ambrose is willing to open up the door for her, to give her a chance… well, who knows what he might hear out from Charlie, too.

Charlie can’t help but smile, hugging the card to his chest while he watches part of his family slowly rebuild.

INT. COVENT GARDEN - SHOPS - DAY

The A class are free to roam throughout the centre, Riley and Farkle taking some time to browse for souvenirs. Farkle hesitates when he spots something he’s sure Isadora would love -- an embroidered patch with something darkly silly, a perfect match for her aesthetic -- pointing it out to Riley. She agrees Isadora would like it, he should grab her and show her while they’re there.

Farkle: Well, I was thinking more like…

Farkle stops his own sentence. He was thinking what, that he’d get it for her? That he’d give her a gift for no reason, as if that’s something normal people do? As if he’s not continuing to kid himself, playing into these weird instincts with her when she has a girlfriend and only sees him as a friend?

Farkle: Never mind. I don’t know what I was thinking.

Riley commiserates, commenting that shopping for others can be tough no matter who it is. Like, she’s been keeping an eye out for something to get Lucas all trip so far, but nothing has jumped out to her.

Farkle: Is he that picky?

Riley: No, although that’s kind of the problem. He’s not really a gift person, because he never like… thinks he wants anything, so he’ll basically accept anything and be cool with it. But that makes him impossible to shop for, because there’s not really a clue as to where to begin.

Dylan and Asher chime in from the opposite side of a shelf.

Asher: Seriously, he’s awful.

Dylan: So true, bestie.

Riley: Besides, it’s not even necessarily him that’s the problem. It’s just like… there’s nothing good enough.

Farkle: I’m sure the artisans here will really appreciate that review on Yelp.

Riley: [ elbowing him ] Not like that. I just mean… nothing is going to convey what I want to say properly. [ softer ] No souvenir gift is going to capture how I feel about him. It’s too much.

Doesn’t help that her primary love language is physical touch, and he’s currently thousands of miles away. Sort of makes Farkle’s angst about Isadora feel trivial in comparison. He gives her an awkward pat on the shoulder, though he’s not going to be of any help to her gift dilemma.

Some jaunty, understated guitar floats in, echoing throughout the Garden…

EXT. COVENT GARDEN - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Step Inside Love” as performed by Cilla Black || Performed by Covent Street Performer

A new STREET PERFORMER has taken the limelight, gathering the attention of much of the wandering crowd. She’s blonde and spritely like Maya, only with a head of curls, but her vocals pack a serious punch. She’s animated and riveting, delivering a soulful rendition of the classic British tune and earning a decent chunk of change in tips in the meantime.

One of the people captivated by her performance is Maya, who stops wandering the stores to listen. Her eyes sparkle as she gets closer, sensing a kindred spirit in the brassy busker. And she’s impressed by how deftly she can hold a crowd -- the Garden breaks out into applause as she finishes her rendition, Maya an eager participant.

She makes a point of approaching when the crowd has mostly dispersed, launching into effusive praise. The street performer listens with mild interest as Maya… well, does her Maya thing, dramatically insisting upon their twin soul energies and lauding her ability to command a space with her stage presence. That, and she has such admiration for someone like her, out there busting her chops to follow the dream wherever it might take her. Starting from nothing, scrounging towards the goal. It’s inspiring, really.

At this, though, the street performer snorts, catching Maya by surprise.

Street Performer: Oh, fuck me. You think I’m some poor bastard, don’t you? Singing for pennies to earn my daily bread.

Maya: Oh, no. No, I just meant --

Street Performer: Love, I went to a conservatory. One of the top bleeding performing arts programs in the country, at that.

Maya, stunned: What?

Street Performer: That’s right. Class of 2015, in the flesh. Oh, and they promised us everything. Going to such an elite school, with such strong credentials, it was supposed to be a direct pipeline. That’s what they said, anyways. Straight to the West End! Well, look around us -- does this look like the West End to you?

Maya: … no. No, there must be a mistake. If you were to have graduated from a top program, then you wouldn’t be --

Street Performer: I did, and I am, love. Look right in front of you, see me with your eyes. And read my lips: it’s all a sham. I sing because it would kill my soul not to, but it’s a thankless time. Do yourself a favour, jump off this train before it runs off the tracks. Unless you want it to be you wiping your bum with your fancy university degree with nothing to show for it in five years time belting classics for spare change next to a little dog man!

Dog Man: Hey… woof. 

Street Performer: An absolute farce!

Whatever Maya was expecting from the networking moment, it sure as hell wasn’t that. She’s dumbstruck, completely bowled over by this unanticipated reality check -- and not even sure how to move past it. She’s rooted to the spot, the rest of the world continuing on around her as if she’s not even there.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Jack is working on the final details of his reapplication, all the pieces polished and ready to submit. Just a tweak here and there… but something about the process feels emptier now. Like he’s doing it, but somehow, his heart is no longer in it. It’s hard to see how that could’ve happened, when this place has been his whole entire world for so long.

But there are new paths stretching out in front of him now… if he chooses to follow them. He releases a sigh and leans back, surveying the office that he’s inhabited for so many years. It’s strange to think that he could be anywhere else… but it doesn’t feel impossible anymore.

At the moment, though, he’s sure of one thing -- there’s somewhere else he’d rather be right now. Struck with inspiration, Jack pulls his laptop closer, settling into new work.

EXT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BALCONY - DAY

Rosie and Charlie deposit the last of the graduation gifts on his bed for him to go through -- mainly envelopes, lots of money. Rosie scoffs as she sifts through them.

Rosie: I can’t believe this. People are basically paying you for getting through high school. This is such a double standard.

Charlie: What? How?

Rosie: Male privilege. Everyone just loves to hand you cash. You know what they’re going to give me when I graduate? Flowers. And like, probably gift cards to Pottery Barn.

Charlie: Hey, you can find some pretty neat things at a Pottery Barn if you look hard enough. And flowers are nice. I could go for some flowers.

Rosie: Of course you could. Nature boy. But flowers die in like a week, and I can’t buy movie tickets or eye shadow with $15 to Pottery Barn.

Charlie shakes his head, amused. Speaking of nature… the two of them meander their way out onto the balcony, opting for the pseudo-privacy and fresh air. After a full day of church community socializing, it’s nice to take in some quiet for a minute… until Rosie breaks it, surveying his room through the sliding door.

Rosie: Do you think I could swap the blinds on the door for drapes? I’m trying to decide how I’ll decorate once you’re gone and I take over your room.

Um, she thought! Charlie refutes this, claiming there’s no way she’s getting his room. He’s going to college, not military school, so he’ll still need a house to come back to every few months. And sorry, he’s not giving up his sacred balcony that easily.

Rosie: … so you’re planning on coming home? Or like to visit. At least sometimes?

Seems Rosie found an indirect way to ask the questions she really wants to know… Charlie realizes from the subtle nerves in her voice that this is the first time she’s had a sibling leave home since Bridgette. And she might be back now, in a surprise twist, but when she left the first time she really just left.

Charlie remembers how that felt. It would scare him too. He quietly assures her that he’s not planning on going anywhere for too long, and he’s never going to disappear out of her life.

Charlie: No matter where I am, or how long I’m there, you can always talk to me. You know that, right?

Rosie: … yeah. Yeah, I do. [ a beat ] I guess like… maybe I might miss you. Or something. Whatever.

No kidding… Rosie takes the chance to reiterate that Charlie can talk to her, too. About anything. She knows she’s the younger sibling and he’s like weird about taking pride in being the “role model” or whatever, but she’s getting older too. So if he wanted, he could talk to her about stuff. Like with Bridgette. And with him going off to college, there will probably be lots of new things to discuss.

She’s doing her best to tee him up… Charlie exhales a laugh, scratching his ear.

Charlie: Honestly, think there’s still plenty of stuff for us to discuss here.

Rosie: Like what? Daisy’s sudden career in climate change --

Charlie, quickly: That I’m gay.

Oh. Well there it is. Charlie obviously didn’t mean to stumble through it like that, to just spring it on her so haphazardly, but the instant he realized he was actually going to say it, it’s like it just slipped out. And the silence that follows doesn’t make it any less clunky, Charlie keeping his gaze anywhere but at her as he braces for potential rejection from one of the people he cares about most.

But Rosie isn’t going to reject him. In fact, she smiles instead, clearly pleased he finally said it.

Rosie: That’s nice.

Charlie: … you don’t sound surprised.

Rosie: I had my guesses. [ off his expression ] Charlie, you went with me to 1D concerts. You’ve never had a girlfriend. We’ve watched probably forty Riverdale makeout scenes together, and not once did you ever react to Cami Mendes or Lili Reinhart. The only time you ever reacted at all aside from getting all awkward was when I said KJ Apa looked good during a shirtless scene, and you agreed.

Charlie: I don’t even remember that --

Rosie: Also you’re like, the nicest boy I know, and I’m not just saying that because you’re my brother. In fact, the fact that you’re my brother and I’m still saying that shows how ridiculously nice you are. No straight boy is that nice. That was my main reasoning.

Well, damn. You think you’re covering all your bases… anyway, Rosie is just really, really glad he finally told her. That means a lot to her. And she promises, sincerely, that his truth is safe with her. He keeps her secrets and always protects her -- now it’s her turn to do the same.

And that’s clearly a relief to Charlie. His greatest fear was always that he’d fall from grace, that if she knew she’d no longer look up to him, but it seems like the opposite is true. He steps forward and pulls her into a hug, one that she happily reciprocates.

When they pull apart, she throws an “ew” out there, just for the sake of bratty sibling consistency. Charlie laughs and messes with her hair, telling her to ew herself. After a moment of silence, now that they’ve cleared things up, Rosie has a new topic she wants to unpack.

Rosie: So you had a boyfriend, right? Like a secret one.

Charlie: Um, what --

Rosie: Who was it? Charlie, tell me. I have to know now.

Charlie: No. No, mm mm, we’re not doing that.

Rosie: I have theories. Wait, just listen to my theories and tell me if I’m hot or cold.

Charlie: [ heading back into his room ] Nope. Not doing it.

Rosie: You need to tell me! I put research into this! I’m only asking you to hear out my potential suspects --

Charlie: La la la la la --

Rosie eagerly follows after him.

EXT. LONDON STREET - NIGHT

Audition over, Harper and Chai are on their way back to the hotel as evening falls. Chai excitedly talks about the course that she auditioned for and how student-focussed it is. Harper nods along, having already heard all of these earlier in the year when Chai was working on her application. 

Chai: You just don’t get this sort of stuff in America. You have to take so many different classes, you don’t get to just focus on your major. But here, they do specific courses. Honestly, there are degrees for everything under the sun. While I was researching I saw one for stand-up comedy. 

Harper: Not sure how I’d feel if I knew John Mulaney had a degree in comedy. Gives a totally different spin on the college bit he does. 

They change topic to London, Chai reminiscing on her time here as an exchange student and mentioning how excited she’ll be to come back if they accept her. 

Harper: I hate to dampen the mood, and I know you have your heart set on this place, but have you seriously thought about what moving here would mean? 

Chai: What do you mean?

Harper: You wouldn’t be moving here as a high school student. You’d be an adult. That means finding your own housing after freshman year, getting a job, building an entire new network when you already have one in New York. It’s not all red buses and hot accents, Chai. You’re entering the real world, with nobody to help you out. It’ll be damn hard. That’s not to say you shouldn’t do it, I fully believe you can. But you should really think about what studying here will be like.

Chai hadn’t really thought about it from that perspective before. Everyone she knows is in New York. Her entire support system is in New York. Would she be able to hack it on her own on a whole other continent?

But then again, does she really want to stay in New York for people who can cast her aside so easily? Her parents barely noticed she was gone during the exchange programme, and the way things are with Isadora right now… there’s not much tying her to the states. 

Noticing Chai’s now uncertain mood, Harper tries to lift her spirits by asking her if she’s excited for the rest of the trip. This does perk her up, but the questions surrounding her future are still strong in the forefront of her mind.

EXT. LONDON HOTEL - PATIO - NIGHT

Zay has stationed himself on the patio of the hotel restaurant, offering him a decent view of the city as the evening descends into night. Farkle peers out from inside the building and spots him, coming over to join him.

Farkle: Rooming with me and Maya truly that bad? You don’t have to hide out, you know. You could just ask us to cool it.

Zay: You know that joke doesn’t land when you know damn well telling you two to chill would do fuck all. Since when have you ever listened to me?

Farkle: Touché.

Zay: But no, amazingly, not every choice I make is about you. I’m just getting my fix of the nightlife before curfew. Based on how Eric cracked down on Nigel and Jade, I’m not trying to incur his chillingly supportive wrath.

Farkle: Understandable. Especially Eric’s unique brand of scary. Mind if I join?

Zay gestures blasély to the chair next to him, Farkle taking it. He asks Zay, now that he’s observed it so much, how he’d rank London.

Zay: Well, it’s no New York City, but it has its charms.

Farkle: Loyalist, I see.

Zay: NYC is a hellish pit, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. What can I say, it’s home.

True enough. They settle into silence for a few moments longer, Farkle actually lasting an impressively long time for his usual standard, before he breaks it again.

Farkle: I was hoping to ask you something.

Zay: Just when I thought you might actually manage a peaceful moment.

Farkle: Hey, I was quiet. For like, thirty seconds. And you should know me better than that at this point.

Zay: Unfortunately, I do. [ with a sigh ] Go on.

Farkle: Now that Maya’s told you about the business card… what would you do? If you were in my position?

Zay: I hope you realize that you stumbling into this opportunity, having a bona fide connection to the industry fall into your lap based solely on your talent and potential, and then saying fuck it and throwing it all away would be the most privileged white people shit ever. You do realise that, right?

Farkle: Yes, I’m aware of the potential optics.

Zay: Okay, good. Just checking. Otherwise… I mean, I guess the bigger question is why wouldn’t you? Go after it?

Farkle: Why wouldn’t I?

Zay: Yeah. Like I said, this is the kind of thing basically everyone at Adams would kill to have in their pocket coming out of graduation. And you appreciate that, obviously, if you’re seriously considering it. So that just leaves the question of why not? What’s making you hesitate?

Farkle contemplates the question, not sure he wants to face it. Because it means being vulnerable, and he’s never been especially good at that.

Farkle: I suppose it’s just like… it’s kind of what you said. New York is home. You know? And I know that’s part of what college is all about, leaving the nest and all that, but… I like the way things are here. I like… [ searching for the words ] I know the city. I know the culture, I know the people. I love the people. Everybody I love is in New York.

Zay knows that feeling. He nods.

Farkle: And for a long time… the friends I have now are everything to me. I know what it’s like to have nothing, to have no one in your corner. I don’t ever want to go back to that. I’m just worried that… if I go away, if I put those aside to pursue this thing that might not even pan out… it’s not worth the trade. I know now that it’s not an even trade. And I’m so good at accidentally fucking everything up… [ timid ] I don’t want to risk chasing the dream somewhere unknown if it means losing my team.

Given Farkle’s history, Zay can see how this concern is particularly gripping for him. And the root of his fear is something all of them are feeling -- everything is about to change in a few weeks, they’re all going to go their separate ways, and there’s no way to know that these friendships will hold. Especially if they go in such different directions.

Still, can’t put your life on hold to cling to the way things are.

Zay: I get what you mean. I had my diva phase this year, you saw it, so you know I know what I’m talking about. I get how chasing after one thing can feel like you’re neglecting the other, that this stupid art kind of makes us so crazy that we push everyone else away in the pursuit of it. I think it’s a valid worry.

Farkle: Yeah?

Zay: Yes. But I don’t think that means you shouldn’t do it. I think you just have to find your balance -- which you should be good at now, considering how much damage control you’ve already had to do.

Farkle: Fair point.

Zay: As for the distance… look, I’m not gonna act like I’m some kind of expert. I’ve been in the same place my whole life. I’m not planning to go far if everything goes as planned, least for now. And being away from people you care about sucks, no matter how big or small the space between you. But… sometimes it’s necessary. Sometimes it’s for the better, getting some separation from the way things are.

Farkle: Really? You think so?

Zay: Yeah. I didn’t always, trust me, but it’s like… sometimes I guess it’s like you get stuck, and the only way to get past it and continue to grow is to step back. Branch out on your own, see who you are without that crutch. And the thing is, man, if someone is really your friend, they’d want you to do that. If we’re all just trying to find the best version of ourselves, and someone cares about you, then they’d want that for you too.

Farkle: Huh...

Zay: I don’t know what I’m saying, okay, I’m just talking out of my ass here. I’m not Riley, I don’t have the perfect advice. But I just think that… there’s no guarantee that going somewhere different, leaving the life you have right now, is going to irreparably damage everything. Especially if you’re doing it for a good reason, like pursuing your passion. And if your friends are true friends, they’ll push you towards that goal rather than pulling you back. If someone really loves you, they’ll want to see you at your best. They’ll set you free… and if it all works out, and you come back stronger for it, then even better.

Took Zay a lot of struggle on his own to reach that conclusion, but it seems like he’s pretty sure of it. And Farkle evidently appreciates the honesty, absorbing the sentiments and trying to figure out what that means for him.

Zay: I don’t know if that helps. Like I said, I’m just talking.

Farkle: No, no, you’re -- it does. Thanks, Zay. [ off his nod ] You know, you’re part of it. That team I don’t want to fuck up.

That’s sweet. A little weird, since they don’t really do the whole sentimental thing with each other, but it’s clear it means something to Zay. He clears his throat.

Zay: Well, don’t worry about hopping to LA, then. Your fun facts and trivia are going to kill this thing way before long distance ever would.

It’s true, distance makes no difference on whether he’s annoying or not. Farkle laughs, raising his hands in surrender. Then he grants Zay what he’s been asking for this whole time -- some actual quiet, leaving him be after thanking him again for the help.

Zay settles back in his chair, leisurely rotating his left ankle to keep it loose. Although he’s finally starting to wean off the habit, given how useless reception has been, he pulls his phone from his pocket and nonchalantly checks it anyway. Not expecting much.

So it’s a major shock to discover he has a notification in his email -- from Turner Academy. Even just from the message preview on his lock screen, he can see what it says.

Your portal status has been updated.

Zay jolts upright, cursing to himself. Heart suddenly pounding, his hands shake as he unlocks his phone and pulls up his web browser to log into the portal. He needs the wi-fi to hold together just long enough for him to look… but then he hesitates. Does he want to know? Is he ready to know? Is he prepared to face the consequences of whatever he finds out?

The hesitation only lasts a second. Yes, he’s ready -- he’s been ready. He’s ready for the torture to be over, to have closure either way. He clicks into the portal and selects the dropdown menu for application status, which has a notification bubble indicating it’s been updated.

It takes eons to load with the shitty internet. Zay holds his breath, watching the wheel in the center of the screen spin.

Then it loads. Zay takes a couple of seconds to read… and his expression shifts not to elation or devastation, but confusion. He reads the message again, then over again, even refreshing the page to make sure he’s not getting an error.

But the status displayed remains the same.

Additional Action Required. Please call the admissions office to learn about your admission status.

It takes a few more moments for that to properly sink in. Then Zay frowns.

Zay: What the everloving fuck --

EXT. LONDON HOTEL - DIVA ROOM - BALCONY - NIGHT

Maya is taking in the same scenery on the tiny balcony outside their room, though her expression is far more melancholy. She’s lost in thought, not even noticing when Farkle returns to the room.

He pokes his head out and greets her, leaning back against the doorframe. He asks if she’s okay, as she’s been uncharacteristically demure since they left Covent Garden. She brushes off his concern, claiming she’s just absorbing the spirit of the city before they go waste the next few days out in the middle of nowhere.

Farkle: I wouldn’t call Stratford or Liverpool the middle of nowhere.

Maya: To each their own.

She delivers it with her usual melodramatic snark, but Farkle is right that there’s a muted quality to it. The easy confidence isn’t quite as sharp as it usually is, and a seasoned veteran of Maya Hart can tell the difference.

Still, she assures him that she’s fine, so he lets it be. He suggests she not stay out photosynthesizing too long -- they’ve got an early start tomorrow as they head out of the city. She nods him along, waving off his concerns.

Farkle: By the way, I am seriously considering my choices. I’m going to give the LA opportunity all the thought it deserves. I promise.

Maya, delicately: I know. I know you are.

Farkle steps back inside, gently cracking the balcony door behind him. Maya watches him disappear into the bathroom nook, waiting until she’s alone again to let the facade crumble. She turns to face the city twinkling around her, confidence zapped entirely. It’s clear the words of the Garden performer really hit her, that they’re taking a toll she didn’t anticipate anything could.

Even with the best performing education money -- or scholarship -- can buy, could it still all be for nothing? Is it even worth it? And even more terrifying, is the dream even accessible at all, or is she destined to discover that she’s wasted the best years of her life chasing a passion that she’ll never be able to catch -- even with all the talent, drive, and preparation she can muster?

Could everything she believes in actually be totally, utterly empty?

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Where Is Love?” as performed by Oliver! London Palladium Cast || Performed by Maya Hart (starting at 2:25)

Acting as a reprise of sorts, Maya eases into her own rendition of the West End classic by singing through the final verse and chorus. But it’s a meek performance, timid in a way Maya never is, real fear and uncertainty cracking the notes in her delivery.

Becoming a star has been her driving force for as long as she can remember. If the dream isn’t real, then where is love?

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

It seems a day trip to Albany and gate-crashing a graduation party are the fires that forge friendship, because Charlie and Lucas are hanging out again. They’re not doing much, Charlie writing thank you notes at the counter while Lucas goofs off during another slow shift, but they’re choosing to occupy the same space while they do, which is certainly not nothing.

That, and they seem remarkably at ease around one another for having only just really started talking. At least enough to do silly, dumb shit that boys find entertaining -- Lucas has built a catapult out of silverware, assuring Charlie that he’s got many hours of food-flinging expertise under his belt and he’s about to see a champion in action. This is very important, complicated Chubbies work at play. Then he picks a fry off Charlie’s half-finished plate and loads the catapult spoon with it, pausing for dramatic effect.

Lucas: Ready… ready… 3, 2 --

He hits the base of the spoon and sends the fry flying into the air, easily managing to catch it in his mouth. An expert champion indeed, clearly of very important matters. Charlie gives him a round of applause, Lucas holding his arms out in victory and giving a pseudo-bow.

Charlie: Wow. I see why they pay you the big bucks.

Lucas: Damn straight.

Lucas just starts to load the catapult up again when Jack pushes into the diner, spotting him and marching over. He seems a bit frazzled, a man on a mission, but there’s an excitement charging his movements. An almost youthful glow about him, eyes twinkling with a mischief you’d never see when he’s in the halls of Adams.

Lucas: Jack? What are you doing --

Jack: Good, you’re here. I was hoping you would be. [ noticing Charlie ] Oh, hi, Mister Gardner. You’re here too. That’s nice.

Charlie: Um, hi, Principal Hunter.

Lucas: Everything okay? You seem a little --

Jack: You want to go to London?

That stops Lucas in his tracks. His eyebrows shoot up, completely caught off guard.

Lucas: What?

Jack: I’m going to London. You want to come to London? Because if you want to go, we can go. I’m going.

Charlie, uncertain: Maybe I should go...

Jack: Oh, Charlie, you can come too. I’ve got an extra ticket. I was going to invite Shawn, but… you know, you’d actually probably appreciate it more.

Charlie: I -- um -- ?

Lucas, bluntly: Are you on crack?

He sure seems high on something all right. But no, Jack Hunter is one-hundred percent sober, and one-hundred percent serious. He’s cruising on the freedom of new beginnings, and he just might take the two of them along for the ride. 

Charlie: Principal Hunter, sir, I’m --

Jack: You can call me Jack, you know. You’re not my student anymore.

Charlie: … right. Well, Princi -- Jack -- you just said it. I don’t go to Adams anymore.

Jack: Yeah, well, you don’t go to Haverford anymore either, do you? So you’re not really anything, technically. And you know we had you for three years, which is more than enough in my book.

Lucas: I can’t go on the trip. I don’t have the money, remember?

Jack: As if most of your peers aren’t on the trip on their parents’ dime. And I’m here with a spare ticket -- it’s not a matter of “can” you, it’s a matter of “will” you. Obviously, no one has to go if they don’t want to, but that’s exactly my question.

A question that completely turned their worlds upside down. It’s truly crazy, how things can change in the blink of an eye -- one moment you’re wandering Los Angeles, you’re participating in a student protest, you’re signing thank-you cards and catapulting French fries, and in the next an opportunity comes knocking that could change everything.

The question is, do you answer the door? Do you take the leap?

Jack: So? Are we going, or what?

Charlie stares at Jack, dumbstruck, then shifts his gaze to Lucas. Are they? Lucas contemplates the offer… then he locks eyes with Jack.

The subtlest of smiles sneaks onto his face.

TO BE CONTINUED.

END OF EPISODE.

[moral-turpitudes]

College Headcanons: Modern!Peaky Blinders Edition

Part 1 | Part 2

Grace Burgess:

Major: Criminal Justice Minor: Fashion Merchandising

10/10 would join a sorority. She has the look and loves the parties.

Has beauty and brains, surprisingly.

Works part time as the barista at Starbucks.

Loves sticking her nose in people’s business so her major is pretty fitting.

She loves a challenge so when she gets to know Thomas Shelby, she knows he’s gonna be fun to figure out.

Studies a decent amount but uses her spare time to try to look into the Shelby’s and why they practically run campus. A little birdy told her about them.

Knows Tommy’s coffee order by heart.

Always DTF.

Is suspicious of Tommy’s inability to use technology but goes along with it cuz she wants to get to know him more.

Didn’t think she’d fall for the mysterious man with a smoking problem but here we are.

When introduced to his family, she asked too many questions about their finances and such, making them think she worked for the cops or something.

Polly still didn’t trust her despite it being a while since they first dated.

Her professor likes her, and encourages her to keep investigating as part of her project on corrupt institutions. Only her professor is a little too enthusiastic. She passes the class, but tells Tommy about him being creepy from time to time.

The next day the professor isn’t there. Hmm. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Almost fought a guy who spilt his coffee on her new dress.

Dreams of being well-off and having a fashion line of her own. Envying Ada’s knack for clothing.

Gets drunk with her sorority sisters on the weekends at the bar and does karaoke. It’s not the best, but she gets an A for effort.

About halfway through her junior year she has to leave cuz she’s dramatic and Polly may have blown her cover. So in a rash decision, she leaves Tommy on his own, making him have a fit and almost getting himself suspended but it’s fine. Polly tells him he’ll meet someone else.

Esme Lee

Major: Horticulture

Her friends all have crazy majors but she wanted something simple, so she chose horticulture. It also lets her get out of the dull college life for a while, or so she thought.

Knowing she can get her mind set on her studies, they decided to help her out and invited her to a frat party.

Everyone who was popular was there so she felt a bit out of place, until she met John randomly when she went to grab a drink.

She’s a wild one kind of like John so they mesh well together. They ended up getting drunk and dancing the night away, letting all their college worries leave them.

In her spare time she can be seen roaming campus with John or hanging out with her friends, and occasionally yelling at some people to get away from her plants at the schools gardening area.

She got along with the blinders really well, except she liked to challenge Tommy at times.

She may be small but she’s one hell of a yeller. She intimidated John the first time she yelled at him.

No one messes with her unless they want to be beaten up by her boyfriend.

Polly likes to chat with her about the business sometimes, sparing some of the details, but she knows Esme can be trusted, and besides, Esme can always force it out of John if it’s something too shady.

Apart from her social life, she does quite well for her studies, and runs a small etsy shop where she makes jewelry.

Her favorite part is uploading aesthetic photos of them to her insta and trying to get John to model for her pictures.

She, like the rest of the family, knew Grace was a snake, and always got bad vibes from Linda…smh.

When she heard news of Grace leaving, she shared a glance with John and did a happy dance internally. In regards to Linda, she wanted to claw her eyes out a bit but she held herself back. Linda would eventually get what came to her. Karma really is that bitch.

As time went on, she found herself agreeing on a whim to marry John, and later falling pregnant with her first of many children. But she’s fine with this situation as long as he helps her live her cottage!core dreams with a bunch of chickens running around while they raise their 10,000 kids.

Linda Shelby

Major: Agriculture

Minor: Religious Studies

Unhinged™

Joined a philanthropic sorority, so she mainly focuses on serving people at shelters and charities instead of serving looks at frat parties.

Claims to be a Christian.

Has the eye for anyone with a penis.

Spends most of her agriculture classes daydreaming about shooting Arthur.

Prays she has the knowledge to pass her exams instead of actually studying for them.

Just wants to live on a farm and be a housewife.

Gives off major bitch vibes no matter how many crucifixes she wears around her neck. Polly tolerates her, and so does the rest of the family, but it’s only a matter of time before someone snaps.

Textbook good-girl-gone-bad trope. Everyone knows her around campus for preaching about no sex until marriage but she be doing the nasty with her side-bae after prayer night.

Enjoys eavesdropping on the Shelby family’s conversations. She supplies Grace with information in exchange for free coffee.

Gaslighting is her second language, speaking in tongues is her third.

When she’s not planning things, she can be seen talking to Grace at Starbucks or stress-baking. She hooks her friends up with weed brownies and later switches to coke because of her boyfriend’s family *cough* Arthur.

Binge drinks on Saturdays and crawls to church on Sundays.

Gets clingy and manipulative at times.

Loves doing her religious studies homework in the chapel or the huge library on campus.

She’d do okay up until finals week, then she’d have many a break down that only cocaine could fix.

Drunk calls Arthur and lets it slip she’d been sleeping with someone the whole time they’d been together. Has 2 working braincells at that point.

He goes off on the dude as they both went to the same bible study. He begged for mercy in the middle of the church floor for Arthur to stop with the punches but we all know hell hath no fury like a person who’s been cheated on. May have almost killed him but it’s fine.

Linda finds him bleeding almost as much as Jesus did.

After crying to Grace on the phone, she snorts a couple lines and downs some shots and heads to Arthur’s dorm. Sos Linda’s got a gun.

Gets shot and lives to tell about it.

She leaves to find god perhaps after all this...or more coke, and just says “fuck it” to her degree. College isn’t for everyone, it’s ok Linda.

Poor Arthur is confused in the weeks leading to the shooting and Linda leaving. Isiah tried to warn him since he was her partner for some projects but he didn’t listen. He wanted to question Tommy’s barista bae about her too but she dipped tf out. The world may never know.

Lizzie Starke

Major: English

She’d taken up an assistants job at the business college and so she worked for nonother than Professor Polly Gray.

She got along with her well, and on Friday nights when she’d be invited out for drinks, she’d overhear Polly divulge one too many secrets about her business.

She kept her circle small so she never felt the need to tell anyone, also fearing that she wouldn’t live to see tomorrow if she did.

Polly trusted her with all her paperwork, often having to proofread and go over Tommy’s insanely long assignments and political debate notes.

Tommy would often be seen around the office, talking Polly’s ear off about business and legal issues, all while she’d get lost in his eyes as he spoke.

She knew she was out of his league, at least while Grace had him wrapped around her finger, but Polly said her day would come so she believed it.

In her spare time, she’d read poetry and sip tea, and on occasion try to teach Tommy about the world of laptops, but even she gave up after a while.

Her major took up a good deal of her time, constantly writing papers and re-reading books, but there was always one silver-lining. Tommy would often skip getting Finn’s help and go straight to her. He said it was because she gave good advice, but his demeanor said otherwise.

When he’d arrive, she’d notice him gradually improving his appearance, much like he did with Grace. And when he’d leave, Polly would shoot her a knowing look.

She may be quiet, but she’s smart, and knows when to make her moves, which both impresses Polly and intrigues Tommy.

Ends up being one of the only ones able to call Tommy out on his shit.

When she’s not around the Shelby’s she’s with her friends or hitting up bars and bookstores.

When she and Tommy finally get together, some students turned their heads at first, but they were good for each other in the long run, it just took Tommy longer to see it.

Gina Gray:

Major: Business Management

Minor: Fashion Merchandising

She came in the picture shortly after Grace’s departure. She was studying abroad but decided to come back for her business classes.

When she first laid eyes on Michael she knew he was the one, but she had to go through Polly, her professor first.

They dated for a while until he popped the question one weekend, leaving everyone in shock.

When she wasn’t fooling around with Michael, she could be seen around campus with her sorority sisters and some of her close friends. Since she was a fashion minor, she always made sure she was dressed to the nines and turned heads almost as much as Michael’s cousin Ada, almost.

Gives off bitch vibes 24/7. No one can really tell if she’s genuine in her feelings, not even Michael, poor bud.

His family thought she was suspicious like Grace, and Polly still can’t put her finger on why she feels she may have a trick up her embellished sleeves.

Michael tends to follow her like a lost puppy of sorts, but she loves the attention, and when he mentioned how his family worked she didn’t seem very phased by it, coming from a somewhat dysfunctional and power-hungry family herself.

She tries to study a decent amount but she’s always hanging out with Michael or getting herself into trouble with the cops when her sorority sisters throw parties.

She’s smart and very convincing, but Polly sees right through her, leading up to a very heated discussion between the two women after class one day.

It’s safe to say that her grades for Polly’s class are holding on by a thread, much like Polly is to her sanity.

She loves a game, whether that’s messing with people’s heads, or trying to beat her friends on game night. She always enjoys watching how they work through their problems, picking out the weakest ones in order to beat them while they’re down.

When she’s not scraping by in her business classes, she’s brainstorming fashion ideas for her numerous projects she’s left until the last minute. Somehow she’s passing the class with flying colors though.

Like Michael’s cousin Tommy, she’s always scheming over something, and so it’s only a matter of time before she fucks something up.

Aberama Gold:

Profession: Philosophy Professor

Side Job: Hitman

His teaching styles are eccentric, often taking the class on field trips to immerse them in the experience.

Goes on for hours about various stories and theories, often losing the class after 30 minutes.

Sometimes he gets called out of class by the teaching assistant because he got an “important” phone call.

“Important” phone calls mean hits and he can’t turn them down unless he wants beef with his rival gang members or people involved in the mafia.

For these reasons, he has two phones. One for his usual work and family, and one for the dirty work.

His son always teases him about having hella phones, but he ain’t no drug dealer, although he most definitely knows some by association.

Asks hard questions to his students and expects good answers.

Doesn’t believe in homework, but makes the classes very challenging and hard to skip.

In his spare time he helps out at the boxing ring, teaching his son the ropes and prepping him for competitions. Other times he helps Arthur and Finn train, all in an attempt to get them to mention their aunt Polly.

He’s in love with the woman but is a bit shy like his son. It takes him a bit to get the courage to meet her but once he does they hit it off.

Polly wasn’t turned off by his dangerous lifestyle, in fact she was turned on by it as she’s lived the same life.

When he wasn’t with Polly or helping his son, he could be seen roaming campus in his signature hat, resting in alleyways or leaving campus abruptly, obviously to go kill someone.

He’d often spend nights away from home alone in the forest, away from Polly and his family, using “philosophy research purposes” as an excuse so he could stake out targets.

He always kept his end of the bargain up, even when he had to deal with Polly’s family and their gangly family business.

Bonnie Gold:

Major: Sports Management

One of the more quiet, reserved students on campus. He can get mouthy when challenged though so watch out.

Would definitely hang with the art and english students, they’re chill.

Can be seen carrying his boxing gloves between classes and doing routine jogs around campus.

All the bitches love him but he only has his eyes on his future. He just wants to win his matches and then he’ll think about love, or so he says. He has the eye for someone in class though and it’s not long until his dad finds out.

He’s health-conscious af.

Has never eaten Ramen noodles a day in his life and doesn’t plan on it. Even if his friends Finn and Isiah try to bribe him. It’s one of the peak college experiences after all.

May have gotten drunk at a frat party and fought a tree.

Would throw hands if someone was being a dick to someone he cared about.

Takes his major seriously. He studies decently well given his dad is always on his ass about it, but when he’s done he goes to parties or hits the ring.

Often has his head in the clouds, dreaming of being a famous boxer, or at least managing a very successful sports team.

Helps his dad on hits. Not many people know this so it’s hush hush.

When he’s not shooting at his fathers enemies, he’s in the ring practicing for the big competitions.

Often spends weekends with his dad, helping to plan attacks and meeting with his blinder friends.

Almost got suspended for knocking out a couple guys cuz they insulted his father.

Attends his dads lectures just to keep an eye on things for him and because he actually finds the subject interesting. May also have a “thing” for a girl in the class but most likely won’t make a move because he’s shy af most times.

Isiah Jesus:

Major: History

Minor: Religious Studies

Despite his wild lifestyle, he likes learning about religions and how they all came to be, given his dad is a preacher.

He may not be a saint but he tries to do well in the classes at least.

Can be seen fucking around with his buds Finn and Bonnie, and going to one too many frat parties.

Finn and him would do lines of coke as soon as Arthur helped move a new supply in, and he’d try to bribe Bonnie to try it but he’d refuse and say he “has to stay clean for his matches.”

When he’s not doing coke or studying for his history or religion exams, he’s out helping the blinders on various jobs.

He often gets in trouble with security because he’s always sneaking about the dorms with some girls he met at parties.

Call it divine intervention, but he couldn’t help but feel something was “off” with the girl Arthur was seeing, cuz he’d gotten partnered up with her for some religion projects in the past and her ideas were concerning. He told Arthur to be careful but we all know what went down.

He likes joining the blinders on their business trips, often leaving his schoolwork until the last minute, just to get the opportunity to help in the business.

He and Finn rant about them not getting enough exposure to the family business but Polly quickly shoves the ideas from their heads saying they need to focus on school, at least then maybe the family could have some other potential.

Daydreams of being a full-blown leader like all the ones he’d read about in his history books. He often looks up to Tommy just as much as Finn does, which sometimes gets them both hurt.

He can be seen often at the ring training with Finn and Bonnie.

He sticks up for his family and friends, even if it means putting himself on the line. No one messes with him unless they want trouble from him and everyone he knows.

[haikyu-hoe]

Love From Abroad

Tendou Satori x reader

one shot, fluff

this is one of my first times writing, so feedback is appreciated! dm for requests :)

hope you like it!

———————————————————————

You’re an exchange student in Japan and today is your first day at Shiratorizawa Academy. You’re a second year. You’re quite nervous but you’re confident that you’ll make friends.

When you get to class, the teacher asks you to introduce yourself to the class.

“Hi i’m y/k, i’m from [your country] and i’ll be joining for the rest of the year”, you say with a shy wave.

You sit on an empty seat beside a black haired girl with cute chubby cheeks.

“Hi i’m Elen”, she says with a timid smile.

You smile back at her and the lesson begins. This is harder than the classes you had at your previous school but you think you’ll get used to it. After all, you’ve always been pretty smart.

At lunch you sit with Elen and a few of her friends from your class and they’re all super nice to you and even offer to give you a tout after classes end. You of course accept this offer gladly since you kinda got lost this morning...

During the tour, they show you many things.

“Here we have the library, over there is a place where you can study and there’s 3rd years to help you and over here is the sports wing”, explains Lin, one of Elen’s friends, a short girl with brown, wavy hair.

“Thanks for the tour! I really appreciate it”, you thank them with a big smile.

They then leave to walk home but you decide to stick around a bit more. As you wander in the corridors you get to the sports wing Lin talked about. Curious about how big it might be, you walk down the main corridor. You can hear balls thudding and smashing on the walls inside one of the gym. You push the door shyly and go sit on a bench with other spectators.

“Their volleyball team is pretty good... Well i did hear it was what they call a powerhouse school so...”, you think, kinda zoning out.

One of the players, Ushijima, seems to be the star of the team. But he’s not the one you’re looking at. A red haired funky boy caught your eyes. He’s so charismatic and his bandaged fingers just look so hot...

You listen closely and finally catch his name: Tendou Satori.

After practice ends, you get up to leave but someone shouts behind you. You turn around to see a black haired boy with a choppy haircut and... TENDOU?!

“OI!!”, they say enthusiastically.

“h- hi?”, you ask, unsure if they’re really talking to you (even though there’s no one around anymore).

“I’m Goshiki and he’s Tendou”, says the black haired boy. “That over there is Shirabu and that, of course, is Ushijima. Are you new around here? I don’t think we’ve ever seen you around before.”, he says with a bright smile.

“Yeah i’m new I just transferred from [your country]. I’m y/k by the way!”, you reply, holding out your hand.

Goshiki shakes it while Tendou just looks at you with some weird smile that is somehow so attractive?

“Y/k huh... want me to walk you home?”, Tendou says while getting extremely close to you.

“Sureee”, you say. “But aren’t you tired from practice?”

“Don’t worry, it’ll replace my stretching!”, he says happily. He then grabs his bag, puts his arms around your shoulders and guides you to the exit.

“He sure is a people person huh”, you think. You’re kinda lost in your thought but you catch a few things he’s saying. He’s a 3rd year in class 2, and he’s a middle blocker. He then goes on about the other team members and fun facts about the school.

“Soooo tell me about yourself nowwww”, he says with that weird smile again.

You blush a bit and scratch the back of your neck and reply “Well i’m new to everything here, but i made a few friends in my class. I’m in second year, class one. The team was really amazing today by the way”, you try to be nice to him.

His smile widens at those last words and you walk in a comfortable silence back home. You thank him and walk inside.

“fuck...”, you mutter to yourself. It didn’t even take a full day for you to be completely in love with this strange volleyball player.

[time skip]

The next morning, you hurry up to school so you can look at the gyms before going to class. You catch a glimpse of Tendou, but of course he doesn’t see you.

At lunch, you tell Elen and the others all about last night. Lin is especially excited and Akira even lets out a little squeal. They convince you to go to practice again tonight.

When you get to practice, you quietly sits on the spectator’s bench but Tendou still notices you and smirks at you with a slight wink.

Luckily he quickly turns back to the game so he doesn’t see you blushing like a tomato. Watching him is fun but you can’t wait till practice is over and you can talk to him.

At about 5 pm, he finally gets out of the boy’s changing room and walks up to you.

“Heyyyy~ were you waiting for me?”, he says in a teasing tone while raising one eyebrow.

You blush a bit and lightly punch his arm.

“Why would i wait for such an idiot” , you say with a smirk. He pretends that your words are breaking his heart and then laughs. You had heard him laugh before but never that way... it was so carefree, so... adorable...

On the way home, he catches you staring at him, lost in the admiration of his perfect self.

“you ok y/k?”, he asks.

“ye- yeah sorry”, you reply quickly and start looking in front of you.

“soooo are you free tomorrow” he suddenly asks. You most certainly didn’t expect this. Does he mean as a date?? Maybe he juste want to hang out, i mean you barely know each other right?

He looks at you amused by the confused look on your face and his grin gets wider. He lets out a little chuckle before adding “yes, as a date y/k”

You blush heavily. It’s no use trying to hide it, you’re like a volcano about to erupt.

“yes! I mean um of course”, you reply nervously. You scratch the back of your neck, something you do each time you’re nervous.

“Great” he says happily, in a sing-song voice. “I’ll pick you up at 11 alright?” he adds.

You nod your head. God what will you wear?? Will you hold hands? Kiss even? What will you guys even do? All these questions keep you awake that night but you still fall asleep after a while, so happy about that date.

[at 10 the next morning]

You wake up, grab some quick breakfast and jump in the shower. You have to look perfect for this. After carefully planning an outfit and doing your hair and makeup, you hear the doorbell ring. Your heart starts beating faster.

You open the door to see a casually dressed Tendou grinning widly at you. He’s wearing black ripped jeans, adidas shoes and a hoodie that matches his hair colour. It’s so weird seeing him without his school or volleyball uniform.

“hey y/k~ you look...” he looks you up and down while blushing before continuing. “...great. You look great.”

You just blush as he takes your hand and drags you along with him.

“where are we going, Tendou-kun?”, you ask in a shy voice.

As a reply, he simply smiles at you and whispers “you’ll see”.

Impatient to know where you’re going, you try to get him to walk faster. But Tendou is not in a hurry at all, and since he’s stronger than you, you have to follow his pace. No matter how much you whine, insist and plead, the red-haired noodle boy refuses to reveal where you’re going.

After about 20 minutes you get to a 50’s themed restaurant. The inside is amazing with its vintage jukebox, checkered floor, coca cola adds and Marylin Monroe posters on the walls, retro booths and milkshakes on the menu.

You sit down on a booth by the window and order a milkshake. You share it with two straws, and when you both lean in to take a sip, your faces get so close they almost touch... Tendou’s breath feels warm close to your lips.

He then leans back and crosses his arms behind his head and just stares at you.

“Why did you agree to come today, y/k-chan?”, asks Tendou. He looks eager to receive an answer but he also looks like he’d rather not know in fear of being disappointed.

You give out a light chuckle before answering.

“because i wanted to, of course! You’re the nicest guy i’ve met and ever since I first saw you play i knew you were special.” you reply calmly before taking another sip.

He blushes like mad but then leans in to take a sip too. As you both let go of the straws, he lifts your chin with one finger and lightly kisses your lips. You’re chocked at first but you kiss back after a few instants.

He suddenly breaks the kiss and leans back. He looks out the window, nervously scratching his crimson hair. You start to wonder if maybe he regrets it...

“y/k i’m sorry that was so sudden i should’ve asked please forgive me i didn’t mean to-” Tendou starts talking saying quickly but you cut him off.

“tendou.” He finally dares to glance at you. “i’m glad you did. And i hope you’ll do it again” you whisper the last part but he still hears you. It’s enough to put a gigantic grin on his face. He leans in closer to you over the table and rests his chin on his hands.

“Then would you mind if we did something next weekend?” he asks while raising an eyebrow.

“i’d love that, Tendou-kun”, you reply.

For the following week, he walks you home each night but nothing really happens. You just talk and laugh, realizing how much you love him.

When the weekend comes, you get butterflies in your stomach as you get ready in the morning. Tendou should arrive soon, so you have to hurry.

When the doorbell rings, your heart does a loophole. Tendou is standing on your porch, in his cute casual clothes. He winks at you after saying a sexy “hey” and grabs your hand to bring you to another mystery place.

As you walk, you can only focus on his hand in yours... his fingers are so long, his palm so huge... but it’s their perfect temperature that makes them so wonderful. And god let’s not get started on his eyes and hair...

Time goes by so quickly when you’re with him, so before you know it you’ve reached your destination.

“we’re heeeereeee!” sings Tendou.

It’s a wonderful park with a small pond in which several koi fishes are swimming. A few ducks also swim around them and there’s lovely benches all around.

You sit on one of them and rest your head on Tendou’s shoulder. You can’t see it but his whole face lights up at this gesture.

“say, y/k-chan” starts Tendou. You turn your face to look up to his. He takes both your hands in his before continuing. “would you let me be your boyfriend?”

Your cheeks flush bright pink as you reply “of- of course Tendou-chan!!”

He smirks before kissing you softly. As seconds pass, he kisses you more and more roughly until you both run out of breath.

He looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing in the world while you’re both trying to catch your breath.

He cups your face softly and puts his forehead on yours. You look tenderly in each other’s eyes, before Tendou finally speaks.

“thank you y/k-chan... i feel so comfortable around you, you make me feel so lucky, so... so... so happy. I hope i’ll feel like this forever and that it’ll be reciprocated” he says as his eyes fill with water.

You raise a hand to wipe his tears as you reply “I’ll stay as long as you need me, Satori. You’re so dear to me, i’ve never felt this way before” you sweetly replying.

He blushes at the fact you used his first name and closes his eyes to appreciate the moment. When he opens them again, he leans in close to hug you tightly and as he does so, he kisses your neck.

When you part, he kisses your lips tenderly and you can feel him grin slightly. You stay in the park until the sun starts going down. He then walks you home like a true gentleman, putting one last kiss on your soft lips.

~the end~

[everybodyscupoftea]

study abroad

frat jj x reader

words: 1625

warnings: drinking, cursing

synopsis: you study abroad and jj confuses the new pledge class 

a/n: more fluffy frat!jj

One fall semester, your program offered a study abroad opportunity that would be partially paid for. You had never left the country before and practically jumped at the chance. Who wouldn’t take a whole semester in Australia?

Your parents were on board, and so was JJ, who you were actually worried would be upset at the prospect of you leaving for months. He was so encouraging, said that technology existed for a reason and you could FaceTime as much as possible. With his blessing, you put down the deposit and got to work preparing for the move.

The day you left, JJ dropped you off at the airport with your bags. He hugged you for a really long time and the kiss was a little bittersweet. It was going to be fun, but you couldn’t help but wish JJ was coming with you. Both of you cried a little bit upon separating, unbeknownst to the other.

It was tough getting adjusted at first, with the time change and the new location and missing your friends, family, and JJ. Meanwhile, JJ was trying to get used to not having a lunch date between classes. He ate alone a lot and sent you snapchats of his food and the empty seat across from him. You sent him snaps from the beach because it’s one of your favorite weekend trips to take together.

Eventually school picked up for you and JJ got swept into all of his Recruitment Chair duties as Rush Week approached. You got a lot of snaps from John B and Pope of him asleep in the living room of the frat house with papers scattered around him. It was cute how serious he was taking it.

When the two of you did have time, JJ holed up in his room to FaceTime you. He wanted you to have his whole focus since your time together was limited. You told him about learning to surf, the new bar your friends brought you to, and how difficult it was to understand new slang sometimes. JJ updated you about the pledges, the events they were planning, and how much he despised his chemistry professor.

Because he never talked to you in the general area of the house, none of the new pledges had ever heard or even seen you before. You became sort of a mythical figure amongst the pledges. They knew JJ supposedly had a girl he was in love with, but they couldn’t be sure that you actually existed.

John B and Pope found it hilarious that JJ kept you so close that it created a sort of lore, so they stayed silent to keep the uncertainty alive. JJ unknowingly kept it alive while drunk. One night, he lost three beer pong games in a row and pouted, slurring about how his partner was all the way in Australia and he couldn’t win without you. The pledges were just constantly confused about who this mystery person was.

One day he seemed angrier than usual and the pledges were wary around him. They weren’t sure what was wrong, only that he kept staring at his phone as if waiting on someone to call him. Finally, it lit up and so did his face. JJ stood up quickly from the couch and answered, “Babe, happy anniversary!” while speed walking toward his room.

“Babe?” one of the pledges asked, confused.

Pope overheard a different one ask, “Wait, did we know Maybank had a girl?”

They quickly learned that if he was upset, all it would take was one phone call from mystery girl to put him in a better mood. They weren’t sure where you were or how he knew you, but there was a betting pool.

Guesses included:

1.      Mail order bride

2.      Sugar momma

3.      Made up or prank

John B found their board and laughed his ass off while they scrambled to hide it. JJ was totally unaware of all the conspiracies surrounding you. He was just going about his semester, missing you, talking to you as much as he could.

You also sent him a lot of postcards. One time you showed him your magnet collection and he talked about how he’d never collected anything. After that you started finding fun postcards for him. While abroad, you sent him as many interesting ones as you could find.

Occasionally, the pledges would see them in the mail and know that JJ was likely going to be in a good mood, which was always good. Especially when midterms rolled around and JJ was struggling through chemistry. They’d never seen him so upset. But then, a postcard arrived in the mail and he immediately perked up and disappeared to his room, phone in hand.

There was another point where you planned to come visit on a school break and the plans fell through. JJ didn’t take it well at all, he missed you so damn much but he understood. He was miserable to be around for a week after he found out though, and the pledges were scared to come visit the house for a while.

A few weeks before finals, you were feeling burned out and you missed JJ so much, so you called him while he was studying in the living room. There was a group of pledges also studying in the corner, watching him try to console you. He ran his hand through his hair, “You’ll be home soon, right, and then we can hang out all the time. Just get through these next few weeks.” The pledges exchanged confused looks.

And then Christmas break happened, everyone went home, including you. The plan was for JJ to pick you up from the airport, and he found out one of the pledges needed a ride for a flight the same day, so he offered to drop him off.

The pledge just thought he was just being weirdly nice until JJ parked instead of dropping him off, and grabbed a bouquet from the backseat. He grabbed his suitcase and cleared his throat to get JJ’s attention, “Hey who are the flowers for?”

“Oh, I’m picking someone up,” JJ told him, impatiently checking his watch.

“Right,” the pledge mumbled, and started dragging his suitcase to the airport entrance.

You came home with a nice tan, a new tattoo, new slang, and cravings for snacks not available in America. JJ welcomed you with open arms and refused to let go. You and JJ were inseparable for two weeks, catching up.

He gave you a tour of the frat house, he’d moved in after you already left. It was big and messy, but JJ was obviously proud of it and you let him have it. It did at least have a kitchen which your dorm didn’t, so you had to give him that.

You’d met John B, Pope, and the other three brothers living in the house, and they were okay with you spending a lot of time there, especially since you were willing to make food for them. You were happy to do it if it meant you didn’t have to eat fast food or cafeteria food. So with that, you got a free pass to the house whenever.

One afternoon, after a particularly hard day for JJ, he passed out on the couch after the gym. He wasn’t answering his phone or his texts, so you called John B to figure out what was up. John B told you that JJ was just going to try to sleep it off, but you should probably come by to help talk him through it.

Like the great girlfriend you are, you went. And that’s how the pledges met you. Some of them were sitting at the house, desperately avoiding the room JJ was sleeping in. You walked in and shut the door a little too hard for comfort, some of them winced, heads snapping over toward the living room JJ was sleeping in.

They weren’t sure who you were, only that JJ had finally gone to sleep and they didn’t really want to face his reawakened wrath. You didn’t know they didn’t know who you were, so you just walked past without acknowledging them, into the living room.

The pledges followed nervously, unsure what you were doing. You squatted down near JJ’s head and dropped your bag on the ground next to you. All the pledges winced at the noise and then froze when you actually started shaking his shoulder.

JJ’s eyes opened and they waited for the yelling to start. They were completely unprepared for him to wrap you in his arms with a laugh. You giggled as he squeezed you tight, pulling you onto the couch with him to press playful kisses all over your face.

The pledges were Shocked. They’d never seen JJ like this before. He glanced up to see them all standing in the doorway, staring in disbelief. JJ raised his eyebrows, “Can I help you?”

“I – “ one of them started.

“Who is this?” another asked.

And a third said, “Wait, I didn’t know your girlfriend was real.”

Someone slapped the back of his head for that one. You just had to laugh. JJ squeezed you tightly around the middle one last time and you looked over the group standing in the doorway, “Do they not know who I am? Did you even mention me once while I was gone?”

JJ frowned and searched his brain, surely, they’d seen him FaceTime you at least once while you were abroad. But they hadn’t. He blushed, “I talked about you, I swear, maybe they just weren’t listening.”

You laughed loudly as they all scrambled to introduce themselves. This was something you’d never let JJ live down.

[highsviolets]

ne plus ultra

summary: you encounter acclaimed scholar obi-wan kenobi after an academic conference

rating: mature (not explicit)

notes: all my love and affection to brit and mia. @profkenobi​ you are my prompt muse & @goldenkenobi​ you win many awards by listening to my endless rambles about this fic. // CHAPTER TWO 

ne plus ultra (n). 

(1) the highest point capable of being attained 

(2) the most profound degree of a quality or state

the story starts in medias res, as all lives do. the beginning of your life is always in the middle of someone else’s. your death coincides with another’s gallant ebullience, your semi-colon failing to incise upon their life. so the scholars say.

the conference — your first since you passed your dissertation — had made you nervous, and you were glad to be spending an extra night before returning to the real world tomorrow.

your palms are slick, as they always are after too long spent in the company of other academics. the anxiety that swells in you is ballast and the deadweight forces you to slump forward slightly, the visible seam on your the shoulder of your shirt sashaying inwards.

when you smile at the concierge, it is tight, like a formation of soldiers in Napoleon’s day, and does not quite reach your eyes. still decked with traces of freckles and darkened by a summer spent abroad under the sun’s penetrating gazes, your skin fails to comply with demands of minuscule muscles pulling and stretching, commanding it into a thin arc.

but it is no matter — you receive your key and you sign the paperwork and are ascending the winding staircase to the seventh floor. emerald green carpet is your guide, swathing your ascendancy in a sheen of dark-hue velvet. sir gawain chasing after the knight in green armor, a lecture on virtue streaming from the knight’s mouth, materializes on the steps. the galloping thought makes you smile, this time more relaxed. that story is something you know. something you know so well you could almost touch it. indeed you had fingered its pages, during your apprenticeship at the British Library.

hope. the words springs forth, nearly unbidden, from your lips. the word is spoken so softly — merely a breath and a hint of sound disturbing the stairwell’s precious physics. it is a reflex of association. green means hope, the scholars had said, and during the course of your studies you had been disappointed to find that you agreed with them. you did not want to agree with the fashionably smug expert in the field. you wanted to rattle him. shake him to his sacrosanct core, the sanctimonious scum.

you had never met the man: the mysterious OWK. your advisor had raved about his breakout lecture series that had taken place years ago, when he was a newly minted phd and you were still in undergrad. sipping a cup of cafeteria coffee (they always forgot you preferred tea, all these years later), they had rambled on about the poetry of OWK’s phrasing and his decisiveness in speech and the unparalleled skill of his primary source research. the lectures had been sadly lost, the footage deleted, or archived, they didn’t know which. just that the man had refused to distribute them and speak on the matter further, nearly abandoning academia entirely.

the beverage was bitter but you laughed lightly. “is this thomas moore and his lectures on st. augustine, then? so legendary that no one can find them?”

your advisor had inclined their head, congratulating you on your witty reference. “i suppose so,” they had mused, leaning back in their office chair and staring at some point above your head, at the oaken bookshelves with brightly colored book jackets lining the walls. “now, your latest draft—“

the memory fades as your purpose alters. a simple twist of the key and the door opens. but you remain on the threshold, stuck between two modes, between here and there.

there is a man in your room, and he is as handsome as sin. he sits in a chair in the corner of the room and one leg is resting on the other’s kneecap at a ninety degree angle. he is wearing glasses, and has short auburn hair that gleams in the dull light of the lamp beside him (although, a few wayward strands obscure his eyes, layering over the frame of his glasses). he is reading. the cover is folded over so you cannot see the title but it is hefty, judging from its position on his thigh. shadows have formed over high cheekbones.

the man removes himself from the task, focusing his gaze on you. you see now that he has bright blue eyes.

“hello there!” his greeting is polite, and amiable, and accented, though not pleasantly so. “can i help you?”

“I’m afraid there seems to be a mix-up!” you say in your ‘adult voice.’ it’s same one you used on your dissertation defense. “it seems we were placed in the same room.”

“ah.” he nods sagely, as though this were to be expected, and unfolds himself from his chair.

you place a hand on your hip — near the phone snug in the back pocket of your jeans — and shrug. “I’m sorry.” the apology is saccharine and tastes like grenadine. “I’ll pop back downstairs and find out what the problem is.”

he urges you to stay, to let him call from here rather you lugging your things all the way down and all the way back up again. “it’s not proper,” he insists, dragging you in and closing the door behind you. in the time that his is so near to you and you feel the way his frown matches the steady grip on your upper arm, something warms in you at his indignation. your hand drifts away from your phone. he retreats to his corner to make the call while you linger just beyond the threshold.

the conversation is hushed and decorated with the raised tones of inquiry. when he hangs up, he sighs.

“they were under the impression that we were a married couple. apparently we booked under a similar last name.” his voice turns down at the edges. he sounds the way his frown had earlier: weary, confused, and a dash of inexplicable certainty.

“but—“ you gesture to the beds — “two beds?”

something of a grimace shadows his face. “all that was available, apparently.”

“oh.” there is a pause. he does not continue. “but they got me a room, right?” if you sound slightly desperate, perhaps it is because you are. you are sweaty. you are nervous. you want to relax. in your own room.

he zooms past your query. “i know you,” he says, and sounds as if he is surprised he knows how to speak.

“i —“ you shake your head — “i don’t think so.”

when you give your name and recognition fails to present itself, he falters and twists to stare through the glass behind him. “i thought…” but he breaks off.  in the end he rights himself and tells you of the situation — how there is no vacancy, but he does not mind the sharing a room with you, just for the night, it wouldn’t be a bother.

there is something different about him. maybe it is the way that he emphasized the word can. maybe it is the way he is pushing the hair from his eyes, and removing the glasses from his face. maybe it is the way that, now pausing his actions, the man cants his head and furrows his brow.

air grows thick with the brush strokes of caravaggio: he is in the spotlight, sure and solid and steady, pure against the whirlpools of unknowing realism.

you are on the cusp of stepping into his white light when he offers his name. the first letter of each word drags itself from his mouth and burrows into your ear, until you almost divorce the meaning but for the particulars.

the first instinct that you are aware of is one you cannot name — it is an anger that is sweet, and one that is shielded by sadness, yet fueled by frustration.

there are dozens of others that your heart and mind have already examined, of course, turning them this way and that, inspecting their corners with bloodied hands. but they are rejected, and expelled into the waxy shadows, without your being aware of them. that is the job of the soul: to know before you are even aware.

he senses the shift. perhaps uncertainty has clouded your eyes. obi-wan kenobi, OWK, takes a step back from rising mist and shadow and once more turns to gaze out the window. through the glass there is a gentle village scene, all cobblestones and iron street lamps and hills keeping time on the horizon.

“i — “ you start, but you stop again. you must start, you feel, but you do not know what path to take, and you halt. the time he thinks you consider you are in fact not considering at all. there is only one answer (answers that are wrong are never really answers, after all, just more questions).

“i’ll stay.”

—

Obi-Wan is courteous and deferential and demands that you permit him to treat you this evening as an apology. he departs to give you privacy as you shower, and the flash of shimmering emerald carpet you spy as he exits makes you wonder if you are the Lady Bertalik to his Sir Gawain.

the steam and the water beat down clenched muscles with gentle hands and lingering touches. it is for several minutes that you linger in their warm embrace, but as you wipe away fog from the mirror you cannot help but encounter the sensation that you are alone, and wrongfully so. you cannot feel Obi-Wan’s presence and the air feels stale without him — like there is no current disrupting the atmosphere’s mundane course.

droplets decorate your shoulders and the hollow of your throat. they hold fast even when you pad softly to your belongings for a fresh change of clothes.

The ache in this room is stronger. The walls themselves are mourning his absence. You feel it settle in your gut, a gluttonous mass that lightens when you consider that he should be returning soon. the sky outside the window is orange and gold, flattering the leaves of maple trees in autumn.

the room is pretty, in a simple way: the emerald carpet of hope has been exchanged for a darkened hardwood. Chrome accents gleam in the reflection of the wood, and two beds — one at opposite ends of the wall — are smothered silver-white sheets. a series of Malevich paintings are hung up in a neat grid, as though the dissembling artist would come barging in, screaming of the devil, if the French theories of symmetry were not obeyed.

as you dress and begin to comb your hair, you wonder why you miss someone whom you have just met, and someone you are not disposed to like. can you miss someone you don’t like? he is sporadic and paradisiacal; in motion and steady. his kindness had surprised you, as had his beauty. he was less corrosive than your advisor had made him out to be, less ambitious than the accolades awarded to his name. but he is zealous, hungry, seeking: you could see in the way his eyes bunched around the edges, in the crick of his neck when he sought wisdom from the hills, how he had contorted his body in the chair.

(he is like you, both here and not here, and although you did not yet know, your soul was aware and reflective in wonder)

when your flesh-and-blood sir gawain returns, you muse that you are a poor temptress in an thick-knit ivory sweater that encases your body from neck to wrists. it had been a steal from a second-hand store a few years back, and you had never found the heart to give it up. it was like a childhood book, or a favorite mug — the object, in all its durable materiality, was akin to you.

Your smile pleases him. Obi-Wan says he has found a place for this evening, nothing special, but nice. “We are celebrating after all,” he says, shrugging off a dark woolen coat.

“We are?” you look at him through the reflection of the mirror. blue eyes meet yours.

“Of course!” the phrase suspends itself for a moment, maybe two, as though it is waiting for something to slip in and complete its trinity. but it falls, tumbling back down to terrestrial concerns. “We are celebrating our meeting.”

He is absurd, and you laugh. Obi-Wan’s theory of festivity is not so mercurial as his speech — the declaration sticks to your ribs, pumping blood to your heart and flooding your cheeks with a natural flush.

Obi-Wan continues to examine you. “Might I ask,” he starts, hands stilling in their expedition of finding suitable attire, “where you bought your sweater?”

you respond: it was from a second-hand store, you found it during your apprenticeship, it was the only thing that kept you warm that terribly dreary winter, it was your constant companion.

“does it have a trio of red threads on the left cuff?”

satisfying his quench takes precedence to mystery of his request.

Obi-Wan’s smile engulfs the spirit of the room, and the two of you, and the bedding, and the glass window, too.

“that was my sweater,” he says. “my uncle made it for me, and i gave it to my brother after we adopted him. he wasn’t used to the dampness of English winters, but he didn’t like the itchiness of the knit. he always had an aversion to gritty textures.” he reaches out a hand with a faint smile, like the combined power of his simple offering can cross space and time and memory and return him to the days of him and his uncle and adopted brother.

you do not know what to say. you watch him for several moments. you want to speak, but your mind is blank, thrumming with the idea that it is so very right that part of him has been with part of you all of these years. parts have him has seen you through the long hours of a dreary apprenticeship and discovering the healing properties of English tea and catching tears and wisps of smiles and witnessing ink spill over pages as you churned out dissertation drafts until the argument was smooth and refined.

the idea makes you feel very alive, and alert, and you want to offer him comfort. “would you like to take it back?” one hand tugs at the edge of the cloth, near your waist. “it’s yours anyway.” the pain of parting is lessened by the joy of giving.

he demurs, you coax. eventually it is determined that he will wear the garment for the evening, but only if you wear something of his, too. “that way it’s even,” he says, and you laugh again to hide the dip in your stomach at thought of wearing something of his, of wrapping yourself in his scent, of placing your body in a place his had once inhabited.

you settle on a light gray blazer that you think must compliment his eyes, which sparkle with aquamarine and crystal. it is paired with a turtleneck and when you emerge to show him the completed ensemble, spinning in a circle, he chuckles.

“you look like me,” he says, one hand cupping his chin.

a feeling pulses in your mind but you let it go. you may like him after all, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t a pompous academic whose theories had made your life hell.

—

you expect him to take you to a cozy place. somewhere where they serve the local brew and make homemade shepherd’s pie, but he doesn’t.

he takes you a bar that is sleek and modern, with soft yellow lights and paneled ceilings and marble counter-tops. Obi-Wan escorts you to a high table in the corner, a hand on the small of your back. the warmth from his palm spreads through his jacket and your turtleneck and it feels like cinnamon and candlelight.  

later, you will not remember what you ordered to eat, but you will always remember the two cups water that appear on the table.

the glasses have smooth edges and and rounded sides, curving around themselves ad infinitum or perhaps reductio ad absurdum. faint golden orbs hunch against the surface; integers of light cling to any sort of tactical reassurance. even the glass will do.

the cups are hefty, and not just with the font of life. the vessel is weighty, durable. Obi-Wan tells you that they are recycled.

he does not talk about what he does now and how he teaches, and you do not mention your work. you do not need to: what these truths have taught you is in every swallow, every glance, every gentle barb. the two of you do not need shields of citation guidelines to understand one another.

the conversation dances. he pulls you in with a question. you twirl around him, brushing his five o’clock shadow. artifice glistens and then falls away. with every pass and dip and pas de chat resentment and assumption weaken, and your eyes become bigger. he changes the time signature, the style (first it was a waltz, and then a swing step, and now it is easing into something unknown). the fabric of his jacket is smooth, and comfortable, and smells like him — warm and spice and clean. you ease into it like it is your birthright.

you do not see, but Obi-Wan notices, and grins into his water.

he does not see, but you notice, the way he couches into your sweater, and your eyes curl in some form of elation.

“what were they about? the lectures, i mean.” this is the question you have been waiting to ask. here, in the bar, with glass, you are emboldened to let go of one last grudge.

he looks at you, and his gaze stabs you, but then it softens — like the needle from a shot easing into muscle before retreating as swiftly as it came.

“what did your advisor say they were about?” he fiddles with his glass.

“they said…” you close your eyes in recollection. eyelashes flutter against freckles. “they said the lectures were about grief.”

Obi-Wan’s smile is wry, but he does not seem displeased. he is still too relaxed to be angry. how you can read his body language so quickly, you are not sure — maybe it is because he is wearing your sweater. so many things you are unsure of, but he is not one of them. not really.

uncertainty is different with him. he is not an ever-fixéd mark, nor a staid anchor in the waves. but he is resolved, and you can separate him from the rest of the particulars that impede your life. he is not just krei: distinguishing and judging and explanatory and crisis all at once, all at everything.

yes, uncertainty with him is less about judgment and is rather imbued with mystery. it is krei mixed with mysteriam: separating the hidden things from that which is known.

Obi-Wan taps his finger on the glass and the sound returns you to the present. he has caught you wandering, again, wandering the wayward halls of esoteric remembrance.

“they were about grief,” he nods, staring at the transparent material in his hands.. Obi-Wan’s voice is kingly and aromatic, like basil. it lilts and sways around the words he speaks as in a courtly dance, like those Anne Boleyn performed for King Henry.

lifting his gaze to yours again, he adds, “and they were about joy. those lectures were about everything, and nothing.” a hand rises, and rhythmic fingers sweep away invisible cobwebs. “they were,” Obi-Wan concludes, “about life itself. phenomena, as it were.” the hand floats down and rests on the table.

it is perilously close to yours now: mere inches from the edges of your body. you both look down at his hand in a brief moment marked and scratched with silence, and you are alone with  your thoughts. his hands are worn, like they have been used — little scars and wrinkles and a slight puffiness that tells you that he spent a lot of time writing today. you like that.

you point to the swelling, at the v of his hand where thumb and palm meet. the tip of your index finger hovers above the spot and your confession must linger too, because it takes several moments for him to drag his eyes upwards to study your face.

“how many ACE wraps did you fray while writing your dissertation?” he asks, and you want to push him for being such a competitive brat.

your hand is still suspended above his.

you tell him your answer, and he cups his fingers around yours in a spasm of revelation. “me too!” his grip tightens. “academia is one son of a bitch.” he catches you in a sideways glance, and when you laugh, he relaxes into a smile.

“I read your dissertation, you know.” the sweater itches against your wrist, where the sleeve of his blazer has ridden up and exposed skin.

“i didn’t.” you take a sip. “but i do know how you feel about scholars such as myself.” another sip. are you biding time? you are not sure. “you feel very strongly about the color green, Dr. Kenobi.”

his grip slackens but he does not release your hand completely. “please. call me ben.”

“no?” your eyebrow arches. “not OWK, either?”

“I don’t use that name with friends.”

“Are we friends?”

his eyes are earnest, open, porous, like blue tulle on ballet costumes. “yes. i dare say we are.”

—

when the two of you stand to leave, there is a still a table that prohibits unity. emptiness subsumes you; he is so near and yet so far; Ben should be next to you. the distance continues, grows, as you exit, and an ache pours forth from your soul, because you now know what you did not know before. you had seen it in the glass, and in the reflected light, and the way you had seen yourself in his eyes when you danced with him without touching his hand.

you halt, he pauses. you take a step forward and Ben watches you. darkness blankets the town’s cobbled streets; the stones gleam dully and swallow the street lamps all into an abyss. except his eyes: Ben’s silken azure eyes are your anchor.

people don’t make sense but you do.

a few steps more and the two of you are very close. you tilt your head to look at his face. you are there, reflected in his pupils. “maybe i am you.” you mean for it to sound teasing, but your soul knows before you do, and the words are laden with imperial import, like a royal seal.

those gemstone eyes flicker over your face. he has felt it too, he is telling you, but how you know this you cannot say. “no, i do not think so.” letters drip out, leaking in a slow stream. “but i think perhaps we are a part of each other.”

and then you have narrowed down the sum to its composite parts. the glass has shattered and the left hand swims in its sand and calcium carbonate and ash, drifting through a process of becoming. particles glimmer on skin, under nails, brandishing depth and texture and a pantone coloring book of the human heart.  

it is a mutual kiss, one where individualism no longer endures. his hands — swollen, calloused, firm — are grasping your cheeks. your arms are around his waist, winding around sweater and skin and soul. when you close your eyes, you think it will be dark. you are wrong. tenebrism creeps away and shadows vanish, and there is only him, and a resounding tenor of colors.

ben’s lips are soft, and his breath is warm, and it is the kiss for which you feel like you have spent your whole life preparing. he is safe (tender) and unexpected (his tongue grazes your teeth). he likes it when you grip him harder, the knit no longer coarse against your palms, not when his hand is wandering through your hair in flashes of blue and gold and pearl.

when you pull away, and nuzzle his cheek, Ben smiles — soft and comforting like the garment on his back. maybe this is why glass shatters and cracks around your feet, crunching as you sway slightly in each other’s arms — you have worn his jacket, and he has worn your sweater.

—

it is predawn the next time he kisses you. the two of you are on his bed, near the window. sweaters and blazers have been exchanged for baggy t-shirts and sleep shorts. Ben is facing you, cross-legged on the pale sheets, and he watches you as you take in the metamorphosis of the sky, from black to navy to the merest smidgen of blue and grey on the horizon, skating across the silhouette of the hills.

he watches you as you speak, too, about the way you loved the ocean as a child, and your favorite book is Moby Dick. it was so very ethereal to you, the way that sailors used the stars to navigate. it was like they were communing with the heavens.

Ben thinks that your voice glitters. it is weary with much talk and too little sleep but it shines the way diamonds do when they are stitched onto spanish lace, supported with the strength that is only found in delicacy.

your eyes, he thinks, are more like satin, for the way they gleam and mix their depth and shadows without losing their sheen, glassy in their wonder.

but you notice his regard, and you pause. he cannot see it, but he can feel a blush jogging from your neck to your cheeks.

you stare at each other. and then — he is next to you, and laying you down, and you are learning his labyrinthine ways even as you begin to come undone.

he is coming alive, or waking up—you’re not sure. his ends and beginnings are still a unknown to you: you must fashion yourself a mystic to enter his realm. somehow you suspect he is yours. your alpha and omega, the moral force that has driven you forward to now, to this point, where his forehead is meeting the jut of your jaw as he kisses his way down your neck.

you are hot and cold all at once and when he licks your pulse point, and sucks, you gasp. it is a gentle thing, more like a deep breath than an exclamation. you feel yourself leaning into him, straining for his touch. his auburn hair under your fingertips is soft and slick with his gel and you tug at it in an act of encouragement.

he pulls away. hovering over you, eyes blue and silver in the pale light — twin moons, perhaps — he smirks. “are you trying to tell me something, darling?” he asks lowly, and his voice is dark molasses. it is sticky and sweet and bitter, inching down your body. you want his kisses to follow its tortuous path, staining you with vermillion and black and dying you with pleasure.

he is color. you are cloth.

the durability of your nature returns in a rush marked with grains of steel. “no.” you swallow and the action traces where his lips met your skin just moments earlier. “i rather thought you were trying to communicate with me.” you sound ragged, coy, on the verge of aching.

Ben does not take your bait. “i was.” his breath is hot against your ear, and arresting. he pauses. the molasses continues to drip. “i was just wanted to make sure i had a clear answer.” and he nips your earlobe. you bite your lip in response: the two of you are in sync.  

“yes.” you are fabric, and your voice is terrycloth.

“Yes?” he repeats your fiat. Shards of glass collapse around you as he again meets your gaze.

this must be how the Virgin prayed her Magnificat, you think as his heart errantly beats against his throat. She must have been like he is now, brimming with humble righteousness and bound by understanding. Tenderness cords through you; it tempers your breathing, smoothes the bubbles of molasses. Reaching up to to cup his face, you let your fingers splay over his cheek, resting on stubble and skin. your pinky finger meets the angle of his cheekbone. the image falls into place and the symmetry causes you to smile.

“yes. etiam. ja. sí.” you are about to conclude in greek — ναί — but he halts your litany of assent by placing an offering on your lips. the greek is in the twists of his tongue in your mouth, and so is the hebrew, and the arabic, and all the languages yet to engrave themselves in your memory.

it is like the first time you experienced champagne at your father’s christmas party. one of his students had poured you, then sixteen, a glass and said with a wink, “the monks declared it was the taste of the stars.” you had raised the flute to your lips and drank as you were bid, and when you had swallowed, you knew the world was different now. or perhaps the old world had not changed, you had merely adapted to fickle ways.

your tongue did as it had then, skating across your front teeth onto your upper lips in quick, jabbing motions. unsatiated and incomplete.

he pulls away again and you frown. eyes closed, you tug at his shoulder in a nonverbal ask to come back.

silence meets your plea and you open your eyes. he is still above you, weight resting on his forearms, and he is smiling.  “you are so impatient.” the rebuke is fond and he soothes its burn with a kiss to your cheek. your eyes flutter closed, briefly.

“i am not impatient.” arms cross over your chest and eyes roll. “i am —“ the phrase is paused as he kisses your other cheek. you open your eyes. “i am.” he waits for you, as he always has, but after a few heartbeats he gleans the completeness of your meaning. existence is the watchword of this night, or this dawn: let sartre and his kind be put to rest.  

so the two of you kiss again, and when his arms get tired, you drape your legs over his lap and press yourself into his chest. the last vestiges of moonlight have settled upon you, but it is no thing, not when skin feels what eyes cannot. lips are languid and hands stroll up and down pathways and alleyways and sidewalks. brittle substances of impatience are burned away through the silk of his fingers. you are content to rest in chiaroscuro.

there is another breaking: transparent and fortified compound of ash and sand — let in by the moon and the rising venus — twinkles around your head, his spine. a whispered ask, a tender assent: shirts glide over shoulders and he guides in your descent.

breathing is knowing, feeling is seeing: for here essence and existence bleed into one consummate act of communion.

lips touch your collarbone, your breast. your hands plane over his chest in a crusade of knowledge. he does not begrudge your gasps, now, or the arches your back erects to his honor. ben’s lips, hands, the vehicles of his words to the world, at once analyze and soak in praise.

clothes fall away, skin uncovering skin, manifesting a reality that had resided in your souls far before today. before the bar, the hotel, the sweater, there was always the two of you, striving for eudaemonia.

“this is phenomena,” he whispers against the curve of your hip. ben presses a kiss to the bones that give form to your body politic (the totality of your shattered glass made whole).

fin.

Tags: @profkenobi @goldenkenobi @ohhellokenobi @obitwo @nobie @cherieboba @lazzwhile @rentskenobi @master-obi-wan-kenboneme @justrunamok @citadoll @obirain @catsnkooks @royalhandmaidens @kyjoraven @mcu-padawan @anakin-danvers @snips-n-skyguy0501 @saintlaurentkenobi @answer-the-sirens @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @icedcoffeeandgays // please send an ask or fill out this form to get added to my taglist!

[frugalhoe]

I'm so glad the semester is almost over

It's been really difficult juggling work and school.

I took too many classes and didnt get 1 day off a week at work to just focus on homework.

So that meant only sleeping 3-5 hours a night to still try to get everything done. I wake up at 1...2 am for my vanilla job btw.

Not sleeping while taking 17 credits and juggling a super demanding vanilla job wasn't sustainable. After a couple months of this, I withdrew from all but one of my classes. Lost my financial aid/scholarships which sucks but I can afford to cover my tuition myself at least.

I was planning on taking some classes at another university next semester. I didn't want to get stuck paying all of the extra student fees, parking fees etc when everything is closed on campus. I applied and was accepted as a non degree student for Spring 2021 so I could just pay the tuition and not the thousands of dollars worth of extra fees.

I'm planning on taking PreCalc again with the same great prof. from last semester and at an earlier time.

I'll be taking Russian I at the new university.

I MIGHT take a third class...either German I or Spanish I & II (intensive). Another option is an online business class.

I think itll be okay but I'll have to leave work an hour early 4 days a week to go to my Russian class. I havent talked to fwb (boss) about it yet but it shouldn't be an issue.

Why so many language classes?

Russian - took Russian at a university back when I was a senior in high school. Planning a 1-2 week trip to Russia pending COVID.

German - Took 2 years of German in high school, was a finalist twice for a exchange program in HS and did a short study abroad program in college to Germany back in 2013. Loosely planning a trip to Vienna, Austria sometime next year for maybe 4 or 5 days.

Spanish - Grew up speaking Spanish. Client base is heavily spanish speaking. Partners and friends are also mostly spanish speaking people but I tend to shy away with my Spanish with them. My Spanish absolutely sucks right now and I just need a refresher on it. I plan to take Brazilian Portugese in the fall and I want to polish up my Spanish beforehand. I got my passport renewed recently and Mexico isnt too far away so will be planning at least 1 short (3 day) trip in the near future.

I think Russian will definitely be the most difficult class next semester. Spanish and German would be easy and PreCalc will be moderately difficult.

Russian I + German I + Spanish I & II + PreCalc = 18 credits 🥴

Russian I + Spanish I & II + PreCalc = 14 credits 👍

12/4/20

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Prompt: A woman of substance.

It Does My Heart Good: Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3

Brianna neatly fanned a sheaf of papers across the desk in John Grey’s study, and turned to a fresh page in her notebook.

“All right. Tell me everything you remember about her.”

Jamie raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I could go on for hours, lass. She was my first love - my only love, if ye can believe it.”

Brianna smiled. “I want to know all about that, too. It - it’s a great comfort to know that I come from love.”

Jamie set down his tumbler of whisky and reached across the table, taking his daughter’s hand. “You come from the greatest, most powerful love that could ever be felt on God’s earth, a nighean. Your mother and I - we shared a soul.” He swallowed. “God help me - I’ve never stopped loving her. And I won’t lie to ye - I’m deathly afraid that even if we do find her, she’ll have….moved on. Married another man.”

“Even if she did - there can be no way she forgot you.”

He sighed deeply. “I’m no’ saying it would be accidental - it would be deliberate. I gave her such joy, and then we shared such pain.”

She squeezed his hand. “Why did she come to Glasgow to begin with?”

“She was an exchange student at the University of Glasgow. She was studying here in Boston - Harvard. Pre-med. She had an opportunity to study abroad for a year, to continue her studies in the UK.”

“I didn’t know she was at Harvard.” Still holding her father’s hand, she scribbled a few words in the notebook.

Jamie’s eyes widened. “Ye’re left-handed, lass?”

Brianna looked up. “I am.”

He swallowed. “So am I.”

She smiled. “I’m glad to know it. Was Claire left-handed, too?”

“No - she’s right-handed. Though I do remember her saying that her mother had been left-handed.”

Brianna wrote that down, too. “Did she ever tell you the names of her parents?”

“Her father’s name was Henry, I remember that. Her mother - I canna remember her name. She rarely spoke of them. They were killed in a car crash when she was five.”

Brianna set down her pen and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “That’s so sad.”

“Aye - she had to be very strong from such a young age. She was an only child. And because I had lost my own Mam so young, too - it bound us together.”

“But who raised her?”

“Ah. Her father’s brother - Uncle Lamb. I dinna ken if that is a nickname, a first name, or a surname. But I do ken he was a professor at Harvard. Either archaeology or anthropology. She grew up following him around on digs. He loved her very much, and cared for her. Encouraged her to follow her passions.”

Brianna took up her pen and wrote this down. “This is great - really, really great. Was he still alive when you knew Claire?”

“He was. He would write her letters every week, and I remember a few times when I’d come to her dormitory to see her, she’d be on the telephone in the lobby, speaking wi’ him.” Jamie paused, eyes unfocused, lost in his memories. “From what she told me, he was quite eccentric. As far as I know he never married, or had children of his own. But he loved Claire, more than anything.”

“I wonder if he knew about me.”

Jamie’s eyes focused on Brianna. “Oh, he must have. When Claire left Glasgow to return to Boston, her plan was to live with Uncle Lamb until you were born. She - she felt safe wi’ him. She knew he would care for her. And I’d bet any amount of money that he was there when you were born, and helped her care for you until you went to live wi’ the Greys.”

“He sounds like an amazing man.”

Jamie nodded. “I always wish that I could have met him. To thank him for raising Claire, of course - but more importantly, to thank him for caring for her, and for you, when I couldn’t.”

Brianna scribbled down another note. “So - if Claire was a pre-med student at Harvard, and she returned to Boston in the spring…”

“She returned on April the 16th,” Jamie interjected. “She was five months along wi’ you. I went wi’ her to the airport.” He sighed. “The worst day of my life. Much worse than being in prison.”

Brianna watched him in silence, processing his memories.

“We had met in the University’s medical clinic. I’d been in a fight wi’ some lads, and my shoulder was out of joint. She fixed it. And the last time I saw her, she tried to make a joke. She…she told me to mind my shoulder.” Tears raced down his cheeks. “I didn’t laugh, and she didn’t either. But that’s so typical of her - wanting to draw attention away from herself. Taking care of others.”

“Do you think she finished her studies?”

“Oh, I’m certain of it. I’m certain she graduated from Harvard with flying colors, and then went on to medical school. By the grace of God, I hope she’s had a verra successful career.” He rubbed at his eyes. “Caring for others - healing others - that was her calling in life. And I ken she would have been the best mother. But I’m sure ye understand why that didna come to pass.”

“I do.” She squeezed his hand. “I really do. I’m so, so happy to learn about her from you. How she’s a true woman of substance.”

“That, and a lot of other things.” He cleared his throat. “What else can I help ye with? Do ye ken her birthday and such?”

“I do - it’s on my birth certificate. When I contacted the adoption agency, they gave me all the papers in my file. It wasn’t very extensive - my birth certificate, my medical evaluation when I was eight weeks old. A log of all the notes and photographs my parents sent the agency over the years, to pass along to Claire.” She sighed. “The file also indicated that the agency had lost contact with her many years ago. They provided the last address on file for her - but it was a post office box. Not traceable.”

“Mmphmm.” Jamie sipped his whisky. “I brought wi’ me the picture she sent me of you as a baby, and I kept the envelope wi’ her return address. Though she must be long gone from there by now. I dinna ken how useful this information I’ve given ye will be. But maybe it’s a start?”

“Oh, definitely! Just knowing she was at Harvard, that her uncle was at Harvard, and her father’s name - those are huge, huge clues. Mom’s sister works at Harvard - through her, we can find someone who can help us find the right records.”

“That’s wonderful, Brianna. I - I canna tell ye how proud I am of you. That you would care enough to find me - and then to bring me here. I - I feel so honored. Me - a rough-and-tumble Glaswegian, a criminal, a - ”

“Nonsense. You’re none of that. You’ve done many things in your life - but that’s all in the past. And don’t forget, you made good choices, too. You chose Claire. And the two of you chose me.”

“Aye, I suppose we did.” He sat up a bit straighter in his chair. “Do ye think we can call yer Mam’s sister in the morning?”

[seriouslyhooked]

Feels Like This (Part 7)

Emma Swan is a once lost girl who is now making good. She has made a way in the world for her and her young son, Henry, and after years of hard work, Emma is in her last stretch of schooling for the career she’s always wanted. Unexpectedly, she finds herself in a tiny nation no one’s ever heard of for her last year of study. She knows nothing about the place except that it’s beautiful, has a world-renowned child life program, and is filled with possibility. Meanwhile, Prince Killian is hardly happy with the title he received at birth. As the second in line for the crown, Killian has long tried shaking his royal duties. He built a career in the royal navy, and has stayed out of the limelight, but his ship has been called to port indefinitely at the request of his brother, the King. Fate (in her many forms) brings Emma and Killian together and the resulting fic is a cute, fluffy, trope filled romp featuring heart felt moments, a healthy dose of insta-love and an assured happily ever after. Story rated M and will have 12 parts. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6. Available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey everyone. I know that some of you must hate my guts after last week, and I couldn’t even begin to blame you for that, but I promise I will make things better this week. I hate to linger in the drama, and as such we get a resolution this chapter. That’s not saying the road will be easy, but hopefully it’ll pack some great feels and will end with a bit of forgiveness, not just for CS, but with us too. I’ll wait to see what you all think on that forgiveness part, but without further delay, here’s the next chapter of ‘Feels Like This.’

Agony. That was the emotion clinging to his body and soul through the rest of the processions. From the moment he saw Emma, and took in the range of emotions on her beautiful face, he realized she somehow hadn’t read his letter. Despite the assurances from Jefferson’s team that Emma had spoken with a member of the royal guard herself, had taken custody of the letter, and understood it was important, there was clearly a breakdown in that story. The shock in her eyes was too potent for her to have had any kind of heads up. She was torn apart and hurting, and it was all because of him.

This was a miserable and soul wrenching mistake, a slowly traveling crash in which he had been the operator, and the worst part was that he couldn’t go to her and try to explain himself. He tried to, stopped the horse, and was ready to go to her, consequences be damned, but Liam’s order was clear and he was bound to follow. As such, Killian had been in excruciating pain for hours. He spent the rest of the day imagine how hurt she must be. If he felt like this, undoubtedly her heart ached even more. And still, throughout all of this, there was no one to blame but himself. He alone was the one who had hurt Emma this way. His choice to be selfish and to wait in telling her had opened the doors to her heartbreak, and in all his life he’d never made a decision, or rather a series of decisions, he regretted so resolutely.

He would never, as long as he lived, and forever thereafter, forget the look in Emma’s eyes when she saw him from the crowd. The alarm of her expression was a knife to the chest, and then the waves of hurt and embarrassment and grief that came after laid all his sense of self respect to waste. He had done that to her. He had made her gorgeous face stain with disbelief and discomfort. He’d caused the anxiety and the sadness that were clear as day in her eyes. He’d undoubtedly ruined a day with her son, something that she cherished and had been excited about for weeks. And most importantly he shattered her trust in him and in herself. That part especially killed him. To see the moment where she came to believe that she’d been had, that he’d somehow meant for things to go so badly, that was the worst of all. Emma was brilliant and strong and sure of herself, and he’d diminished that by withholding who he was. He’d never forgive himself for that grave sin.

This wasn’t to say that his ire was limited. He was enraged with himself, but he was also furious with Liam. Keeping him from going to her in that moment may have been the ‘smart’ thing to do, but Killian couldn’t look past the fact that it was also the ‘proper’ thing as well. On a better day, and in a less tumultuous time, he would believe in his brother’s goodness. He’d give Liam the benefit of the doubt and imagine that the call to keep him in the procession was made to protect Emma and not to keep him from making a scene, but he was hardly rational right now. Instead, Killian was desperate, and as soon as the parade was over, he dismounted from his horse and rushed into the castle, disregarding all the staff who tried to help him. He stopped only to thank his grandmother for the distraction she’d provided and remained focused on his mission.

The only thing he could think right now was that he had to get to Emma. He’d go to her like this, dressed in this royal monkey suit, if that wouldn’t be yet another afront to her. She’d been slapped with the reality of who he was hours ago, and he would never try and throw that in her face again. He made it to his rooms in record time, and didn’t bother to even close the door as he went about changing, all the while brainstorming how he would get to her and make this right.

“I know you’re angry with me,” Liam said. Killian hadn’t even realized he was followed by his brother and he was even more angered by the lack of privacy. He bit back a snarl that was very unlike him but came naturally at this moment. “But there was no other way.”

“No other way?” Killian asked, a hollow laugh escaping as he shook his head at his brother’s words. “You might be the king, brother, but you’re a bloody fool if you believe that.”

“Killian I was only trying -,”

“Don’t!” Killian yelled, interrupting him before Liam could say something he didn’t want to hear. “I swear to you, Liam, if you so much as attempt to justify this, if you even think about bringing up my duty to this family, you will regret it.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise.”

“Well luckily for me I was going to do neither.”

Killian glared at his brother but then disregarded him. He had the change of clothes he needed and made quick work of removing the starched pants and suit jacket. In under a minute he was dressed in jeans and a casual shirt, more normal attire that Emma had seen him in at the center. But just the thought of it made a lump form in his throat. What if all of this was over? What if he’d ruined everything? What if she could never find a way to forgive him?

“Okay I lied. I was going to make excuses, forgive me.”

“Forgiveness from me means nothing,” Killian said, deadly serious. “When I myself am unforgivable.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“You have no idea who I am or what I am capable of. You think I was just gallivanting around the globe all these years, brother? No – there is darkness in me, sins on my soul I’ll live with every day, and now the worst among them is what I’ve done to Emma. The nightmares and memories of war I could live with. It’s not easy, but it can be done,” Killian said, expelling his breath quickly and wanting to get off this topic that he purposefully never discussed with family. “But what I did today, and what you commanded me to do… it’s a bridge too far.”

“So this isn’t all about your title, then. That’s not the only thing you’re hiding from her.”

Ice ran through Killian’s veins at Liam’s assessment, but his brother wasn’t wrong. There was a lot he hadn’t yet revealed to Emma. He always made the excuse that their stolen moments together were too fleeting, or that it wasn’t the right time to discuss such heavy things, but the truth was he was kidding himself. He’d wanted to gloss over the bad parts, which wasn’t fair to Emma or to him.

“I’m not good enough for her. The things I’ve seen and done have stained me. They made me different – they’ll always haunt me. But this,” Killian said waving around his rooms, which were so ornate that the French aristocrats of old would gasp in the face of them, “She deserves so much more than I can give her. This world is too demanding with too little wiggle room. She’ll feel trapped here. She’ll resent it. But I can’t let her go. I’ve never…” he trailed off, trying to put into words how Emma made him feel. “I’ve never felt like I was exactly where I’m meant to be; not here, not abroad. But with her there is no question. I’m the man I wish I was, the man I want to be.”

Liam was quiet a long moment, looking at Killian with a mix of emotions on his familiar face. There was concern to be sure, and sadness for Killian which he did not want. He didn’t want sympathy. He knew he wasn’t normal, in the regular sense of the world, but he didn’t want pity for that. Yet beyond that there was also a warmth in Liam’s looks, and when his brother spoke, his tone was open and honest.

“I saw you two today. I watched the exchange you had out there. The things you feel are not one sided. She loves you too. That was clear.”

God Killian wished that that were true, but even if it was, he didn’t know if love could survive this moment. It was a cruel thing, to taste real hope and have it stolen from you by your own missteps, but he had a sinking feeling that was to be his fate.

“My choices and my actions have likely destroyed those feelings,” Killian said, the lump forming in his throat so tight it made it hard to speak.

“I’m not so certain. She’s clearly going to give you the chance to explain yourself, and that alone speaks volumes.”

“And what would I even say?” Killian asked, putting words to his great fear. “There’s nothing I can say that can make this okay. I didn’t lie to her, I made sure never to do so, but a lie of omission is just as bad.”

“Is it though? I mean you’re not a criminal, Killian.”

“No, I’m a prince!” he yelled, the word hanging around them long after he’d screamed it into the room. His chest heaved as he caught his breath and slowly he calmed but he never felt better. “You don’t know Emma as I do, Liam. She’s not the kind of woman who’s going to see this development as desirable. She has no fairytale ambitions, no dreams of the spotlight. She’s a woman trying to make a way in the world for her and her son. She wants a good life for her boy, a healthy and happy home, a decent chance at love, and a partner. She wants a man who can walk by her side and chart the path she’s built for them, she doesn’t want… this,” he said sadly gesturing at the grandeur around them. “And she certainly doesn’t want the scars of my past tossed in as well.”

“Well how can you know that if you’ve never even asked her?”

“I know.”

“Oh rubbish!”

The words from the doorway had both Killian and Liam turning and low and behold there was Gran and his mother. These two women, who had always been his fiercest advocates and caretakers looked upon him with such fierceness of emotion. His mother looked distressed but her love was still tangible. She also didn’t appear to be confused, and in her blue eyes he saw understanding even in her alarm. He was surprised that she was even aware of the situation, but then he turned to Gran and remembered how much the woman could say in a short amount of time. She’d no doubt told his mother, and now, despite her age and smaller stature, his Gran was poised for a fight and looked downright pissed. She was a force riled up this way, and he readied himself for a verbal lashing.

“All you know is that you made a mistake, a series of them if you want to get particular,” Gran said shaking her head. “But here’s a scary truth for you, my boy, we all make mistakes. There’s not a person in this room who has not wounded someone they love. Hurt them in a way they’ll regret to their last breath. It’s a terrible thing, but it is life. People are flawed and our time on this earth is messy. We can’t all be perfect. We can only try to be better.”

“I don’t deserve her forgiveness, Gran,” Killian said, not bothering to waste energy with diversions and denial. This was his great fear, and it slipped past his lips as if she’d forced he confess. “I’m not worth it.”

“Oh, Killian,” his mother said sadly, but his Gran held her hand out towards his mother, a silent show for her to wait. With purposeful steps, his grandmother approached him. She came in close, and he wanted to look anywhere but in the eyes of his family. She was uninterested in that avoidance though, and she put a dainty, wrinkled hand to his cheek. He looked up to her and watched as she took in a deep breath. Instinctively he did the same. Then they both let them go together. It was a remnant of his childhood, a tactic that helped calm him whenever he’d felt small and overwhelmed by their world. Gran always knew and she always helped, and even now, at this lowest point, it granted him a small comfort.

“My dear, I’ve always imagined you to be sensible and smart. Please, for the love of all that is good, do not prove me wrong,” Gran said, her voice softer but no less determined. “If you do not deserve her forgiveness, then you must earn it. You are not defined by a few bad choices you made, or by the scars that life has granted. You are more than the mistakes of your past and your present. You are a man, a complicated, loving, and ever-learning man. You have done wrong. You have caused pain. You have shielded the full truth. Now admit that, repent for that, and show her you will never make a mistake like this again. She’s a brilliant woman. A little guarded, but that’s to be expected with all that she’s known. Show her who you really are. Remind her why she took a chance in the first place.”

“I don’t even know where she is,” he admitted. He’d checked his phone and tried to call Emma as soon as the procession was far enough from public eyes, but she’d shut the bloody thing off, no surprise. God, he just hoped she was safe. He was worried about her, knowing that she must be fragile after the realizations she’d faced today.

“Go to the Center, darling,” his mother said softly, having made her own approach, and taking his hand and holding close. “There’s the party tonight that you mentioned.”

“More importantly her friends are there, that Elsa girl for one, as are the children she’s grown to love. No better place to start your search,” his Gran argued.  

Killian knew they were right and without any more thought, and with only a few swift goodbyes, he headed out to find his Swan. It meant a lot to Killian to have the support of his family, and there was a tiny flickering of hope at their words and advice, but he had to get moving before he lost his nerve. He couldn’t keep talking about this, he had to do something. Only after he was out of his quarters and in the car headed for the institute did he realize something – his family knew way too much about Emma and her habits. Liam he understood, but his mother, and especially his grandmother. Something was afoot there, but he’d have to save that for another time. For right now all he could do was work to get to Emma.

The drive to the institute was faster than normal but it felt like it took an eternity. When he finally got there, he was greeted by playing children and general merriment. The festivities were starting soon, and Emma’s original plan had been to come by when she and Henry were done at the beach. Perhaps he’d get lucky and she’d already be here, he looked around and finally saw someone who might know.

“Elsa, have you seen Emma today?”

“She’s not coming,” Elsa said and Killian’s heart dropped. “She called to say she and Henry couldn’t make it.”

“All right, well do you know where she is, in the meantime? I’ve tried to call her and I really need to speak with her. It’s… well you see… something, um -,”

“She told me what happened,” Elsa said, filling him both with relief and dread all at once.

“Elsa, I -,”

“How could you not tell her?” Elsa asked, not yelling for the sake of any children who might hear, but clearly mad. In fact, Killian had never seen Elsa so much as cross before, so this anger was truly something to behold, unexpected as it was. “Do you know how upset she was? Do you know what it must feel like for her? She deserved to know that, and you should have told her.”

“Elsa, I’m sorry –“

“Don’t tell me that. Tell her!” Elsa said, exasperated but then she let out a sigh and Killian noticed her eyes were misting over. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t get so mad. Realistically I know it must not be that simple. It’s just that Emma is my friend, and I never imagined that she didn’t know who you were. Marie told the rest of us what was going on. We were all briefed the day you came, I long assumed Emma was too. Then I began to wonder, but you two were so close, she had to know. When she called today, I could hear the sting of her betrayal. She really had no idea. She was blindsided.”

“I never meant for her to get hurt, Elsa.”

“But surely you must have known she would find out. It was only a matter of time, and you had weeks to break it to her, but you chose not to.”

“I tried, a hundred times, I really did. But we were always here. There were always things that needed doing and children underfoot. And even in the quiet moments… I could have found a way, Elsa, but I couldn’t bear the thought of her looking at me differently. I can’t explain what she means to me, what her seeing me for me has granted me.”

“Even if that’s true it doesn’t change the outcome,” Elsa said sadly. “She needed to know. When were you going to tell her?”

“I was going to tell her tomorrow on our date.”

“You were going on a date? Like an actual date?” Elsa squeaked out, seemingly surprised at the information. “Tomorrow? Oh my goodness, that’s why she wanted me to watch Henry.”

“Aye,” Killian said, curious as to why Emma hadn’t mentioned that part to Elsa.

“I can’t believe you finally asked her. So if you’re asking her on a date, are you serious about her?” He nodded, trying to silently convey the words he wanted to save for Emma. He regretted that it had slipped out with his family before. The first person to know that he loved Emma should be Emma, and despite his quiet non-response, Elsa began to understand that. “And you swear to me that you were going to tell her tomorrow?”

“I give you my word, Elsa. I even sent her a letter this morning before everything happened. It wasn’t enough but it was all I could do.”

“She didn’t mention a letter,” Elsa said shaking her head. “So chances are she never got it.” His heart bled at that confirmation.

“I take full responsibility for her pain, Elsa. I know I am in the wrong. The blame lies entirely with  me. But please, believe me when I tell you that I will do everything in my power to make it up to her. No matter what it takes. She’s the most important thing to me.”

Elsa looked him over, critically trying to assess whether or not he could be trusted. He hoped beyond hope that he would live up to Elsa’s scrutiny, because he was now relying on what else Elsa might know to find Emma and make amends. When she finally nodded, silently accepting his words as truth, he let out a shaky breath. He wanted to ask her where he could find Emma since she wasn’t coming by, but he didn’t have to, she imparted everything she knew on him. Where she was (which was home), what she was doing (making dinner for her and Henry after their beach day), and what he could bring to start to try and make amends (the special dessert that cook was making that both Emma and Henry were desperate for). Killian appreciated all the help, and as he stood in the back with Elsa, waiting on the sweet treats to be wrapped for delivery, he felt a tug at his hand. Looking down he saw Cecelia, who was offering him a shy smile.

“Hello, little love. How are you doing this evening?” Cecelia let out a giggle at his formalities, something he’d grown to learn that she liked over the past few weeks.

“We had dinner, and cake, and we are playing. Pirates and princesses!” she said excitedly. “Do you want to play, Killy?”

The name that Cecelia had begun to use for him, which only his family ever called him, made him happy, in spite of the circumstances. He smiled at the never-ending charm this little girl had, and at her sweet disposition and thoughtfulness.

“Unfortunately, I can’t stay. I’m on a mission you see.”

“A mission?” She asked excitedly. “What kind of mission?”

“I did something that was not very nice, but I feel very badly about what I did. So I am going to say I’m sorry. And I am going to also bring this, as a token of my apology.”

“What’s a token?” Cecelia asked.

“It’s like a little symbol or present. I want to show I’m thinking of the person who I upset.”

“You should bring flowers,” Cecelia said immediately, dragging him as hard as a five-year-old could drag a full-grown man. “Here, these is my favorite.”

Killian followed the little girl to the meadow and watched as she plucked flower after flower until it made a perfectly imperfect bouquet. At one point she let out a little chirping sound of glee, he asked her what had made her so excited and she showed him the yellow flower she had found.

“These are my Emma’s favorites.”

“Well let’s get some more of those then.”

He thanked his lucky stars that Cecelia didn’t ask more about who he had offended. He could only imagine how sad she would be to discover it was Emma, but as he worked to retrieve the flowers with her, Killian solemnly vowed again that he would make amends. This might not be nearly enough to do so, but it was a start, and no matter what it took, he would eventually find a way to win Emma back again. As soon as he had the blossoms in hand, and the dessert with the help of Elsa, Killian was ready to go, but as he looked back out to the car with his driver and took another look at his detail his stomach sank. He didn’t want to do any of this with an audience. He didn’t want the flagrant reminder of why they were different thrown in Emma’s face.

“You know, Elsa and I got really good at ditching our bodyguards when we were kids,” a voice said, and Killian looked over to see Anna, Elsa’s sister, who he also knew to be a good friend of Emma’s and kind to him personally.

“Anna!”

“Oh shoot, pretend you didn’t hear that!” Anna said, her face suddenly sobering. “Seriously, don’t repeat that. To anyone. Ever.”

“I won’t,” he said, curious as to why the sisters would have ever needed their own bodyguards. It was a strange thing, especially seeing where they were now in their lives, but he knew full well it was not his business. “But I hope you mentioned it to offer a suggestion. I’ll take any tricks of the trade, so to speak.”

Anna let out a sigh of relief before looking over his shoulder. “Gus is the main one watching you today, right? The others are stationed outside?” Killian nodded. “Excellent – totally lucked into that one.”

“How so?” Killian asked and Elsa filled in, shocking him further.

“Gus is a great guy, very capable, but easily distracted. He sat down a full twenty minutes for Eloise to make him an origami frog last week. Barely kept tabs on you the whole time.”

“You noticed that?”

“We notice everything,” Anna said with a smile, before pulling out two of the flowers in his chosen bouquet and tossing them away. On second thought they didn’t exactly match, but he didn’t have the chance to thank Anna before she was giving him another gift. “I’ve got a moped in the shed out front. It’s speedy, efficient and has a helmet and saddle bag. You can fit everything inside and get to Emma in five minutes flat. We’ll keep Gus distracted.”

“For how long?” Killian asked and Elsa and Anna exchanged a look.

“Thirty minutes, easy. But if we hit him with a meal from Cook, could be longer.”

“I owe you two, royally.” The two sisters laughed at his words and he groaned. “Pun not intended, but you take my meeting.”

“Two I-O-Us from our neighborhood Captain and Prince. We’ll take it.”

“Call it even if you make it up to Emma,” Elsa agreed, and Killian nodded his head. Then he watched as Anna grabbed his flowers and the dessert and made a big show of asking him for his help on the third floor. He understood her ruse and agreed, at the same time that he nodded to Gus and Elsa moved over to his guard. She struck up a conversation with him, bringing in some of the kids, and quickly Killian and Anna snuck out, getting the moped in record time.

“Emma lives only a few blocks away,” Anna said, writing out the address that she read off of her phone. He was grateful for that as he’d sent the letter this morning through a royal courier. He hadn’t actually known her address, but relied on Jefferson’s intel to get it there. “Here. Do you know where that is?”

“I do,” Killian said, relieved as all hell for that. “Thank you, Anna. Without you and Elsa…”

“Just keep your promise. Make things right with Emma,” Anna said, shooing him away as she stood guard, making sure no one was aware of their deceit.

As he drove out of the front gate, Killian felt free, and he rode as fast as he could without risking his life to get to Emma. Soon enough he was at her building. He parked the bike, and with shaky hands gathered his items of penance. It wasn’t enough, but he hoped it could be a start. Quickly he moved up the front steps, schooling his breathing, and hoping beyond hope she’d open the door. He knocked three times, the heavy metal of the knocker sounding out against the wood. Thud. Thud. Thud. His heart was racing, his mind outpaced it, and seconds stood still until he heard the sound of feet behind the door. A subtle pause, a bated breath, and then…

……………….

Never in her nearly thirty years of life did Emma Swan ever encounter a situation like this one. The drama and the intrigue, the secrets and a big reveal, it was exhausting and complex. In truth it was too much to comprehend, and as a result she was currently standing in her kitchen, staring aimlessly into the refrigerator, and wondering what the hell was going on.

It started with a pretty simple premise: girl meets boy at a new job. That part she had no real trouble understanding. People met every day and sparks flew, that was pretty normal. Not so much for a single mom who was always barely treading water, but it could happen. Theoretically she always had a chance of meeting a man who was interesting and captivating and funny and smooth.

Stage two was also somewhat familiar: girl falls for boy. It was less likely, but still believable. She had never felt any significant pull to a guy except for Henry’s Dad, and even looking past the horrible way that relationship turned out, the feelings were not the same. That love was grounded in need, a need for connection and for love and for family. She was without a center, and Neal was a way to build her world around someone else. With Killian it was different. Emma liked the idea of finding love, but she had no need to build a world around someone else because she already had so much in her life and she understood and loved herself so much more than she had as a girl. Instead, with Killian, she felt a kinship and an undercurrent of possibility. Killian had jolted her out of the small life she was leading and made her dream of more. It was exciting and new, and though she never really expected love like that to come, she knew that it was technically possible for her to feel for someone again. She hadn’t anticipated it, but it could happen, and with Killian it did.  

The next part though, that was what killed her and was completely and totally bat shit crazy: boy turns out to be prince of a tiny coastal nation that no one’s ever heard of, but is heaven on earth. Like… what? What the what?!

This was the making of some cheesy movie or romance book, but it was never anyone’s actual life. Even when girls met princes, they always knew from the jump that they were a prince. But Emma? Oh no, she had to be the one in 7-something billion to completely miss the memo. Okay actually that wasn’t quite right. Most of the issue here was that no one outside of Montenarro knew about this country, let alone its monarchs. Still, she was surrounded by people who were aware of the truth: Elsa, Anna, Marco, Marie. The list went on and on and on, and yet at no point did anyone ever think to let her in on this giant, gaping, gargantuan secret.

Of course, the person who really should have said something was Killian, and for hours Emma had wondered what the hell he was thinking by not telling her. Like sure, maybe it wasn’t polite to introduce yourself as Prince Killian of Montenarro from the jump, and yeah, he was clearly trying to fly under the radar with the kids, probably to make them feel more connected and not separated by status, but it was unfathomable that he would never have brought this up. Especially given the fact that he was in a nationally watched parade today. How did he possibly think she was going to miss that? And more importantly, how could she trust him, or anyone else for that matter, after they’d kept this from her for so long? She thought back to her phone call to the institute earlier where she’d told everyone she and Henry couldn’t make it. She didn’t plan to say anything, hoping to hide the shame of being so stupid, but Elsa could tell something was up, and when she asked Emma couldn’t deny it…

“Are you sure that you’re all right, Emma? It’s not like you to miss something like this and I know that Henry and you have both been looking forward to this. Are you sick? Can we bring you something? Anna or I can come and -,”

“It’s not like that,” Emma admitted, taking in a shaky breath before blurting out a question that had bothered her all day. “Why didn’t you tell me, Elsa?”

“Tell you what?” her friend asked, seriously perplexed.

“About Killian.”

“Emma, I’m sorry, I’m not following you here. What happened with Killian?”

“I saw him today at the parade.”

“Oh I know he called here, just in case we played it on television. He doesn’t want the first time the kids hear to be through the parade. He wants to tell them himself, which I respect.”

“Well I wish he’d had the same regard for me.”

“Regard for – wait, Emma, you didn’t know?”

“No,” Emma admitted, grateful that Henry was putting his beach stuff away upstairs. She had a little privacy and the sadness of this moment could air without her son knowing her pain. “I had literally no idea and now I feel like an idiot because we were there, Henry and I, and I saw Killian and he saw me, and it’s just… it’s like I’m too heartbroken to be mad. Does that make sense?”

“Oh, Emma,” Elsa said, and Emma closed her eyes, willing the unshed tears to go away. She couldn’t break down right now. She just couldn’t, but she would if she continued to think about this. “If I had ever thought in a million years that he would be so careless, I would have told you from the start. Anna and I wondered if you realized in the beginning, and we weren’t totally sure, but we thought maybe if you didn’t know then he was waiting for the right moment. It was hard to tell because maybe he had told you and you and you were keeping things private. I thought for sure he would have told you whenever you got a real moment one on one, and you’ve had a few the past few weeks. It never occurred to me that you were still in the dark. I never imagined…”

“It’s not your fault, Elsa,” Emma said, fending off the tears that threatened to come in the face of this bad moment.

“Has he tried to reach out to you? To explain himself?”

“I haven’t checked,” Emma admitted. “I called you on the land line here. My phone’s been off all day.”

“Don’t you want to hear what he has to say?”

“Of course I do,” she admitted. Knowing it was true. She wanted answers, and she also wanted to understand. Why had he done this? What was he possibly thinking?

“So why -,”

“Because what if there is nothing to say?” Emma interrupted, her biggest fear revealed. “I mean he’s a prince, Elsa, and I’m just… me.”

“You’re not just anything, Emma,” Elsa said determinedly. “You are brilliant and wonderful, and let me tell you something, titles and nobility don’t mean anything. The merit of a person resides in their heart, not in a crown.”

Emma appreciated her friend’s faith in her, and she didn’t think much of how adamantly opposed Elsa seemed to the exultation of nobility. Still, she felt unanchored right now. She’d really begun to feel that connection with Killian was something special, and it was impossible not to question all of it in the face of a secret this big. Because this was big. Really big. Honestly it was -

“Mom?”  Emma jumped at the sound of Henry’s voice and she looked over to her son who had a curious look on his face. She closed the fridge door, unsure of how long it had been open, but her attempt to cover herself didn’t go unnoticed. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, kid. What’s up?”

“There’s someone at the door. They knocked twice already. I’d answer it but you know the whole stranger danger, different country thing.”

“Right,” Emma said wiping her hands down her shirt and preparing to greet whoever it was.  She suspected it was Elsa or Anna. After Elsa had told her that she was absolutely Killian’s equal regardless of status, both Elsa and Anna had been on the phone, telling her to be strong and have faith in herself. They were both hopeful but also incredibly sympathetic, and despite Emma’s protests, both had mentioned sending some cake this way for her and Henry. Still she didn’t want to see anyone. Okay that was true she only wanted to see one person, but as she moved to open the door, she knew it wouldn’t be – wait, Killian? Oh God, he was here. Like actually here.

“Emma,” he said, his voice filled with equal parts relief and anguish.

“You’re here,” Emma said, dumbfounded. She never in a million years expected him to actually come to her house, not after the parade today and realizing who he was. The reminder of his real identity had her looking to the street. What kind of scene was being made for him to come here? But then when she looked there was no one outside, and nothing but a moped on the street. Only then did she realize the helmet he carried.  “Where’s your detail?”

“I ditched them. Didn’t want to draw attention.”

“You ditched them?” Emma parroted, not following him. “Is that an option?”

“I made it one,” Killian said, determinedly. “Look, Emma, I know that what I’ve done is unforgiveable. I said that in the letter this morning.”

“Letter?” Emma asked and finally understanding dawned on her. That thing she thought was an invitation in her tote bag… that had held answers all along. God, seriously? What a mess, and here she’d been thinking on this for hours and maybe there were some answers already in her grasp. But whether or not that was true it was too late now. “That was from you. I thought it was from the institute.”

“So you never read it,” he said and she shook her head and Killian grimaced before straightening his stance and diving into what the letter must have said. “It hardly matters. A letter could never be enough to right what I’ve done. I know I should have told you who I was from the start, and having things go so badly today when what we have is so good… it damn near kills me to know I’ve ruined things before they’ve even had a chance to really form. But I swear to you, on everything I hold dear, that I never meant to hurt you, Emma.”

Now the tears were back, misting over in her eyes and she couldn’t try and stop them. Today had been so crazy and she was stressed and angry and sad. But the look in Killian’s eyes as he tracked her sadness broke something else inside her. His longing and his sorrow were so palpable. She knew, even without his words that he was truly sorry, and when he moved toward her, taking her hand, she didn’t pull away. She stayed there, too caught up in feelings to speak, and allowing him to try and explain some more.

“I know my words can’t possibly be enough, Emma. I would never expect them to be. I’ve been foolish and I’ve been daft, and Lord knows I would give anything the world over to take back the pain I caused you. It’s the last thing I would ever want. You deserve so much better, and God above, I am sorry Emma. So deeply, truly sorry. I want to show you how sorry I am. I want to make this right. I know asking you for anything is unthinkable. I don’t deserve your forgiveness or a second chance, but I can’t walk away, love. I don’t want to lose you, I don’t think I could bear it.”

What could she say to such a statement, such bold claims of caring about her and regretting what he’d done? She had so much to say. She was angry and hurt and embarrassed, but underneath all that she still felt the pull that was there before. Despite everything that had happened, she couldn’t help but look into his blue eyes and feel like there was magic here between them. Her heartbeat skipped out of time, and her hands grew shaky. She didn’t know whether she wanted to slap him or kiss him. Honestly, she probably wanted to do both. Still, the only thought ringing in her head was that he was here. He’d come to her, for her, and he was really, actually here.

“Who is it, Mom?” Henry’s question from behind her made her jump, and without thinking she stepped away from Killian’s hold before Henry could see their hands joined together. Jesus, this was all going so crazy so fast, and then Henry’s eyes lit up and he gasped. “Wait, aren’t you… you’re the prince! You were at the parade today.”

“Aye, lad,” Killian said, and though he aimed a kind smile at her son, Emma could tell it took everything in Killian not to wince at the pronouncement.

“But what are you doing here? What’s going on, Mom?” Henry looked to her and Emma looked between him and Killian trying to figure out how to play this.

“Killian and I, um, work together.”

“Wait this is Killian?” Henry asked, and Emma felt her cheeks flush as her son gave away the fact that she’d talked of him at home. “You said he was a Captain in the navy, but I didn’t know he was a Prince!”

Neither did I, Emma thought, but she was at a loss for words. Luckily Killian stepped in.

“At the institute I’ve been blessed to be as I am. I’m not a prince there. I’m just a man. Just Killian.”

“That must be hard sometimes,” Henry said, surprising both Emma and Killian with the words. “Being a prince, I mean. I mean it’s cool, but a lot of responsibility, I bet.”

“Aye, lad. Truth be told I’m not always up to my familial role,” Killian confessed, making Emma’s heart ache with the sincerity he displayed. “Some have said I’m not particularly good at being a prince. I can’t disagree with the sentiment.”

“How are you at making pizza?” Henry asked, completely changing the subject on a dime, in the way only a kid could. Henry showed absolutely no intimidation in the face of meeting royalty. He was completely relaxed, stunning Emma with his nonchalance.

“Erm, well, I wouldn’t really know,” Killian said, his hand moving through his hair in a gesture of uncertainty. “I can’t actually recall ever making my own.”

“That’s okay, it’s easy. Mom’s a master at it. She can show you. Right, Mom?”

“Henry, Killian probably has other things he has to do.” She looked to him trying to assure him that he did not need to indulge her son. But when her eyes met Killian’s she was yet again surprised at the hope she found there. He wasn’t running for the hills or jonesing to get away and back to the palace. In fact, he looked excited at the prospect.

“Actually,” Killian said, hedging a moment making, silently making sure she wasn’t trying to give him the brush off. She purposefully kept quiet, thus giving him permission to make his own call. “There’s no place I’d rather be than here, making pizza as it were.”

“Really?” Emma asked and Killian nodded before motioning to the box he was carrying that she hadn’t paid any mind to before.

“Aye, and I come bearing an offering of sorts. Elsa and Anna send their regards, and cook’s coveted cake.”

“Wohoo!!” Henry yelled, whooping with joy as he pulled Killian inside, dragging him to the kitchen to get dinner underway. For Emma’s part she was still hesitant. This was not something she ever expected, and it was not smart to let Henry get attached to Killian when she didn’t even know what was going to happen between them. But the fact that Elsa and Anna had sent him her way was an endorsement, and if they trusted him after she’d been so honest about her pain today, she didn’t think she should fully close the door on this.

What ensued after that was a few hours of strangely perfect intimacy. Despite the newness, and how much was still unsaid between them, Emma watched Killian and Henry truly bond. He may not have much experience in the kitchen, but Killian was a quick learner, and more than anything he was attentive. He met Henry’s enthusiasm with appreciation and support, and when her kid chattered on all night, Killian only seemed to enjoy himself more. Watching all of this, and knowing that Killian had every intention of speaking to her when they were alone, made Emma’s heart soften, and though she was still scared shitless about his being a prince, she felt her defenses waning at the night went on. Even in the middle of such a mess, this man was perfectly imperfect. He was flawed, and he had acted badly, but he was good still, with a heart so big and kind she couldn’t help but wish for more nights like this, both for her and for Henry. In spite of who he was, Killian seemed to fit here, and hours later, when Henry was readying for bed and had bid them both goodnight, Emma wanted to find a way to say that even while she held him accountable for what he’d done.

“Whatever it is you’re thinking, Swan, you should say it. I promise you I can handle it. No need to mince words or hold back,” he said, showing once again just how much he understood her. She closed her eyes, steadying her breath, willing the questions and the accusations to come, but they didn’t. So instead she said what she felt.

“You’re a prince.”

“I am.”

“Why?”

“Why am I a prince?” he asked, confused.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because if it were up to me, I wouldn’t be a prince. But beyond that, you saw me,” he replied honestly. “The real me. Not the man the world thinks that I am or that my family thinks I should be. You can’t imagine how that felt, how intoxicating it was, when I hardly even knew myself before I met you.”

“You should have told me.”

“I know, love, and I was going to tomorrow. The plan was to have real time together. I didn’t want it rushed or interrupted. I wanted to break it to you gently, because I knew hearing this would hurt no matter when it came. But believe me, Emma, I never planned to be at the parade today. A public spectacle like that when you didn’t know… it was unfathomable and cruel. But I need you to believe that my hands were tied. It’s a complicated story involving politics and parliament, but suffice it to say my brother needed me, and I could not deny the King. I knew it was wrong, but I was bound by honor to my family. They required my presence and I couldn’t turn away from that. Even so, if I had known you’d see me today, that you and Henry wouldn’t already be tucked away at the beach, I never would have gone.”  

“You still should have told me, Killian,” she stressed, appreciating some of the context, but knowing it didn’t actually change anything. He nodded, his eyes taking on a real pain as he replied.

“You’re right, Emma. I started to tell you a thousand times, but fear and cowardice won out. I was terrified – I am terrified – that the truth will have you running. I told myself if I could just find the right moment, then maybe it would be okay. You’d stay because you knew that wasn’t everything I am. I thought if I could make you care for me as I’ve come to care for you…” his voice trailed off for a moment, but he moved towards her, now close enough to touch yet still an ocean away as he continued his confession. “It was stupid, Emma. But more importantly it was selfish and wrong. Keeping this from you goes against everything I feel for you, everything you bring into my world.”

“What do I bring?” she asked, curious as to why he was going to all this effort and facing these hard questions for her of all people.

“What do you bring?” he asked, his voice edging up like he couldn’t believe she would ask that. “Light, Emma. Light and laughter and peace. I’m dizzy from the sight of you, I hardly think unless my thinking is of you, every day I stand in awe of everything that you are, but still in knowing you I’ve found something that feels essential. You calm me, even as you awaken parts of my being I never knew till now. To put it simply, you bring everything, love. It is I who has little but trouble to offer.”

The swirls of emotion that took flight at hearing him say these things was incomprehensible. It was varied and layered, pulling at things in her heart and her soul that she’d always wanted to be and to feel and to know. She knew that he meant this, knew he was showing her his truth absolutely, and yet the tone of his voice was resigned. He was asking for forgiveness but didn’t believe himself worthy of it. And only part of his belief was because of what he’d done. Heartbreakingly, Emma could see most of it was because of this title, this role he never asked for and clearly didn’t yearn to hold. He thought it made him too removed, too burdensome to love. He didn’t see what she did, that he was more than one crown, one title, one role.

Closing the space between them, Emma’s hands came to touch him. One hand came to his chest, the other cupped his cheek. She felt the beating of his heart, and when he looked at her, she saw this sense of hope in his features. It was like she was a lifeline, a saving grace, and she couldn’t help but smile, and try her best to make him see what really was between them.

“You’re wrong, Killian. You may be trouble, but you are also so much more,” she teased. He huffed out a breath, something that wanted to be a laugh but it wasn’t real. It was mired down by doubt, doubt she needed to ease away for both their sakes. “I won’t lie and say I wasn’t angry or upset. Finding out today like I did hurt me. I can’t change that, and neither can you, but in some ways you were right. My knowing from the start would have made things different. I’d love to say it wouldn’t have, but we both know that it would. I’ve got walls and I’ve got triggers. I’m slow to warm and I play it safe. I don’t think I ever could have been so open if I knew the differences between us. I don’t know if I ever could have believed something real could come from this. Knowing would have made me cautious, and yes I probably would have run if you told me too soon.”

His hands came around her, like just the mention of her running made him need to hold her close. And funny enough she didn’t really mind. She loved this feeling, this connection, this warmth. Even with everything, this felt like a perfect slice of heaven. Nestled in his arms she felt safe, like no storm could come that they couldn’t weather together.

“But even if it’s crazy, and I have a million questions, and I have no idea what the hell dating a prince entails… if the prince in question is you, and if you’re still the man I know, the one who gives more than he takes, the one who faces each new challenge, and the one who kissed me yesterday like I’ve never been kissed before… then I don’t want to run. I’m still in this, Killian. The only question is, are you?”

No sooner had she posed the query than his lips crashed down on hers, telling her everything she needed to know without saying anything at all. As life-altering as yesterday’s kiss had been, it was nothing to this. This was a moment shared by two people who had said so much and left it all on the line. There was only want, and desire, and need. She felt it coil from deep within her, radiating through her whole body, and by the time they came up for air she was flooded with the sense that nothing and no one could ever make her feel like this. Killian held the key to this sensation, and it was worth the risk of heartbreak to try and take a chance with him.

“I’ll never have the words to tell you how remarkable you are, Emma. How you revive my very being, and how miraculous it is to feel the way I do when I’m with you,” he said, pushing a wayward strand of hair back behind her ear as he gazed upon her, smiling and joyful and full of relief. “But I aim to show you, Swan. Today and every day I’ll do my best to remind you of all that you are, and all that you mean to me.”

“Good,” she whispered, stealing another taste of him. He growled into the kiss, quickly taking it over and she melted into him again, forgetting everything and living only in the now.

“I hope this all means we’re still on for our date tomorrow,” he said when they came apart again and she nodded, feeling a blush spread over her cheeks.

“I’m still game,” she answered, biting back a groan at her attempt at being casual. It was so corny, but screw it. He didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he was looking at her like she hung the moon and the sun and the stars.

“You’re certainly something, love,” Killian said smirking at her in that sexy way and kissing her again. She melted into the embrace but when they broke apart once more, she admitted another fear she had.

“I may be bad at this,” Emma warned.

“You, bad? I don’t believe that’s possible,” Killian said, his voice warm and lush and happy in the face of this second chance.

“I’m not great at dating generally. It never turns out well in the end.”

“For me either,” he confessed. “But I suppose that’s because we’ve never had the proper partners.”

“I’m scared to mess this up,” Emma admitted.

“You are incapable of doing so,” Killian reaffirmed, kissing her gently before resting his forehead against hers. “You’re the reason we still have hope. Your forgiveness is everything, Emma, and I promise you, as different as our circumstances are, I will never again allow you to be hurt. Not by me, my title, or the baggage from my past. You, and Henry, are safe with me. I swear it.”

“Are you sure you can make a promise like that?” Emma asked, doubting anyone’s ability to prevent bad outcomes, but Killian’s determination was unwavering. He was absolute in his promise, and she had no choice but to believe him.

“I am sure. We can do this Emma. We’ll go as slow or as fast as you desire. You’re the Captain of this vessel, so to speak, but if you trust me, I know we can see this through. I’ve never felt anything so surely as I feel that.”

And with that, and with a few more heated kisses, Emma and Killian cemented their decision to really give this a shot. Unfortunately, Killian had to leave soon thereafter, heading back to the palace where everyone was likely worried sick from his ditching his detail, but Emma knew he’d be back tomorrow for their date. And as she watched him ride away, and she closed the door behind him, she made a conscious choice to really give this all she had. Because despite the worries and the fears, and despite the crazy thought that he was a prince and she was an ordinary woman, she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t follow her heart.

Post-Note: Okay so… what do you think? Am I forgiven? I hope that I am, and if I am not let me entice you with the promise of next chapter, which is going to be a fluff and feels filled first date worthy of a prince and his (soon to be) princess. Honestly though, this has always been my vision for this story. I think about that scene in the Prince and Me when the girl sees the prince and he runs to her from the parade and I love it, and yet I wanted to twist that a bit, to turn it on its head and in the process keep Emma and Killian’s love still a private, personal thing. I want them to have more time to grow and nurture their feelings, to know it’s definitely love before the whole world gets a say, and of course throwing in meddling Anna and Elsa, and having Henry push the love birds along a little never hurts either. Anyway, what I am trying to say is I hope you guys enjoyed and I thank you all for reading. Not sure when the next chapter will be ready, because I am in the final stretch of school craziness, but know that it is coming and that I can’t wait to share the rest of this story with all of you. Until next time!

[wolferals]

🇪🇸ENCANTADO🇪🇸

This is the first part of my new arón piper fanfiction called „finally fallin'“

I hope you like it☀️

<arón piper x reader>

(The spanish is all google translate, i wont take responsibility for mistakes)

chapter 1

Your heart was pounding, your hands were shaking and your knees were weak. New things troubled you, made you almost anxious. Like college.

It was your first day of your third semester as you were studying design. When you had started dedicating your life on your projects you were still living in y/h/c (your home country), in a very small yet incredibly expensive apartment in the middle of the city with your best friend.

Everything was going perfectly fine, your grades were good and all your projects turned out the way they were supposed to.

But after one year of going to Uni, it bored you. A bad habit of yours. You got bored very easily and needed an immediate change.

It took a good amount of 5 weeks until your professor announced you could take a semester abroad in Madrid, Spain.

Your Spanish wasn’t exactly what you‘d call fluent but it was good enough to understand the basics.

A week before your time to leave had come you fortunately found a tiny little one room apartment somewhere outside the center for an affordable price.

It wasn’t quite fancy or anything but since you were a creative person, you were sure you could still make something out if it. Your parents had promised you to help you out with some money if you cant find a job to make you pay your bills. But besides that, the university was totally free for you because of your uni‘s connections back home.

And thats how you ended up here right now, staring at the huge doors of this tremendously big modern building in the middle of Madrid.

First day of Spanish university. Your classes were all in English which gave you a little bit of hope.

After taking a deep breath you opened the heavy white, wooden door and stepped inside just to be met with a dozen students walking through the halls, trying to find their class.

You didnt know where to go either but for your sake there was a campus map to your right that told you exactly where to go for your first class. Photography arts.

You loved photographing, finally taking that course excited you a lot.

By the time of 8:22 you reached the lecture hall and took a seat in one of the corners. You noticed that there weren‘t many students here yet which surprised you since classes start at 8:30 sharp.

You took out your Laptop to take some notes just in case and crossed your legs to observe the room a little before the professor came in.

In the next 5 minutes more and more students walked into the hall and found themselves some seats. A dark skinned girl with dreads and a septum piercing sat down behind you and smiled at you while passing by.

She looked amazing, you thought to yourself.

Checking out the other people you started asking yourself if they were all exchange students from non spanish-speaking countries.

Suddenly the second seat to your right got flipped down and a dark haired, brown eyed boy sat down, placing his backpack on the floor.

You tried to be nice and smiled.

He was cute, you thought and checked out his outfit.

He was wearing dark lightly washed out jeans and a white shirt. You immediately noticed the silver chain dangling off his neck.

He gave you a quick smile before grabbing his own laptop and putting it on the table in front of him.

Looking down you noticed that his phone had fallen out of his bag when he took his laptop out. But before you could indicate anything the door got slammed close and an old woman walked up to the desk in the middle of the hall.

„Welcome class of 2019. My name is Profesora Rodriguez and in this semester i‘ll be teaching you the arts of modern photography. I‘m assuming you‘ve taken photography classes before so I‘m going to spare you the details of basic skills you have to possess.“

She seemed like a very strict yet kind of sweet „teacher“ and you were sure she was going to teach you a lot about the topic you really wanted to know more about.

*time skip, after class*

Profesora Rodriguez endet the course about 2 hours later and the students started to leave the lecture hall very quickly.

Slowly you packed your laptop and your notebook back in your bag, taking your time since he door was stuffed anyways. The guy who had sat close to you had been one of the first to leave the hall, but unfortunately you had forgotten to tell him about his phone being on the floor.

It was still there.

You grabbed your back and then bent down to pick up his black iPhone.

You actually wanted to take it to a professor since you didnt even know his name.

As you walked out the door shortly after, it rang.

The display showed a weird looking phone number and a name. Arón.

You let it ring for a bit and then decided to pick up to maybe ask this person where his friend could‘ve gone so you could return the phone as fast as possible.

„Hello?“ you asked.

You didnt get an answer immediately but then a voice spoke:“Itzan? Quién eres tú?“ -„Oh I‘m sorry I dont speak Spanish. I found this phone on the floor in photography class. Do you know where I could find your friend?“

The guy coughed once before replying:“He is going to training now but we wanted to meet.. maybe you could come there too?“ You nodded even though he of course couldnt see that. „Yes of course, where is that?“

The deep voice then told you the address which you put in google maps to make sure you‘d find it.

He as well told you to come there by 12:30 so you still had some time to maybe get some food inbetween.

„Oh thanks so much! Im sure your friend will thank you for setting this up.“

He laughed a little and then spoke:“I‘m sure he will thank YOU for bringing him his phone.“

You chuckled back and then hung up to finally return to your apartment, grab a snack and text your mom about your first day of college in Spain.

*time skip to 12:35*

Nervously you were waiting for the guy who had lost his phone at the location his friend told you about.

You were standing in front of a restaurant somewhere in Madrid, holding onto your purse and his phone as if your life depended on it.

It took about 5 minutes until you recognized his face again and approached him. He looked confused as you were walking up to him.

„Hey! I found your phone in class before and your friend called and told me to come here to give it back.“

You held out his phone.

He smiled brightly.

„Ay dios mio, thank you so much! I was sure i would never find it again.“

His eyes were sparkling at you and he pulled you in a short hug.

„No problem, your friend was really nice.“ you smiled at him.

„What friend?“ He asked out of curiosity before putting his phone back in his pocket.

„Yo.“ a voice behind you spoke. „Ay hermano! Gracias por llamarla!“ (hey bro, thanks for calling her)

You turned around. And thats when you saw him for the first time.

„Arón, encantado.“