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ambitionsource · 1 year ago

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AMBITION “Living Memory” [ 4.11 ]♮PART 1, half 1

RECAP

Over the shot of Isa and Farkle finally, finally having their first kiss:

Josh, voiceover: Previously, on AMBITION…

Last episode alone was a rush of major, life-changing moments -- violations of autonomy (with Justin’s forceful moves on Maya); hail Mary auditions (Vanessa), and the dawn of profound realizations (cue Zay staring at Charlie and suddenly no longer able to run from the truth that he has been, and remains, so irrevocably in love with him). Relationships erupting into excited, bright new starts -- if you’re Isa & Farkle -- while others crumble into resigned, quiet surrender.

Vanessa: Who does it help to pretend like that isn’t how things are? Who are we protecting? The only people we’re going to hurt are ourselves -- and it’s not fair, Zay. To me, or to you. [ with a shaky breath ] So what are we doing?

For every unspoken epiphany, however, there was an equally volcanic confession. Nigel informed his family of his desire to leave NYU and potentially transfer overseas to a less-than-enthusiastic reception…

Nigel: Hell, when I talked about Zay going out for all these touring auditions and stuff, you said it was cool. You said you hoped it worked out for him. Why is it great when he does it, but when I want to try for something more it’s -- Liezel, frazzled: You are not Zay Babineaux!

And Charlie managed to defy even that, finally revealing his true identity to his mother with predictable, yet still tragic, results.

Charlie, desperate: Mom, this isn’t -- I’m still me! I’m still your son -- Eleanor: Don’t say that to me! Stop lying!

In spite of all that, there was some levity… of a sort, as Yindra took an unconventional and truly wild boat ride for the weekend in the aim of making it into the coveted, elite girl group being developed by Jupiter Records. Although she gave it her all, it’s a wonder what might happen next, considering the experience itself -- full of panic attacks, smashed bottles, and catty gossip -- left little insight as to what might happen next. Hollywood might just prove to be more unpredictable than Adams Academy.

Kimmy: Stop, y’all. We’re women supporting women…

Somehow, all of this chaos -- new career moves, new betrayals, and the hard launch of romances new and long-thought-passed -- happened amidst the true universal centerpiece of life and death. For every start, there is an end, and Kenneth Friar finally met his after a long, tiring, and emotionally complex wait. How Lucas and Grace move forward in the aftermath, carrying all that mixed grief, remains to be seen.

Charlie: “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil…”

It’s the circle of life, and as our curtain rises on another episode, it begins again. Every action has an equal opposite reaction; every closed door invites another one to open. What gentle ends and potential new starts await us next -- and what ones came before that brought us to this moment of time in the first place?

If AMBITION has shown us anything so far, it’s that there’s certainly a story beneath every stone just waiting to be turned and told… so as autumn leaves fall in our world and new ones grow in theirs…

Yeah I’ll be singing Hallelujah, whether you like it or not!

End of recap.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - DAY

Sunlight filters in through the curtains, casting the room in a warm glow. It’s still early, so FARKLE MINKUS and ISA DE LA CRUZ have yet to get out of bed.

Even when Isa starts to stir, they’re not in any rush to get moving. They let their eyes flutter open and roll onto their back, looking up at the unfamiliar ceiling. For a long moment, confusion reigns -- where are they again? What are they wearing? How did they end up here?

Then they turn their head to look at Farkle, and it all comes back in an instant.

The letter in a well-worn shared novel. The confessions; the unexpected and new forms of expression. The stuff they did with him -- with their best friend -- that they never believed could happen in real life.

But it did. Somehow, they ended up in bed with Farkle, and based on the fond expression on their face, they wouldn’t change that fact for anything.

He’s still sleeping peacefully, and Isa has no intention of waking him. They’re still drowsy themselves, and have half a mind to just drift back to sleep. They figure they’ll quick check their phone, see the time, and then disappear back into the blissful calm for a little while longer.

The peace doesn’t last.

Upon looking at their phone, Isa discovers they have missed texts. Quite a few, in fact -- one from Dylan, two from Riley. Several from Eric. As soon as they open them and read the messages, they’re wide awake.

Isa: Holy shit.

They sit upright, immediately dialing a number. When someone picks up on the other end, they forget to stay quiet, speaking at full volume and startling Farkle awake next to them.

Isa: Riley? I just saw your texts -- what the fuck is --

Whatever she says on the other end of the line, it leaves Isa gobsmacked. Not that the news is surprising -- they all knew it was coming -- yet it still lands like a bomb anyway. Isa climbs out of bed and gets to their feet, pacing the floor as they listen. Farkle pushes himself upright, still half-asleep but obviously concerned by their behavior.

Farkle: What’s wrong? Is everything -- Isa: [ to Riley ] So he’s dead. [ meeting Farkle’s eyes ] He’s really dead.

Farkle’s eyes widen, matching their somber expression.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - LATER - DAY

Isa is getting ready to go in a rush, Farkle helping them gather their things. Everything is frantic, neither of them having a second to breathe.

Farkle: The car will get you to Burbank. Do you need me to help with a flight, or -- ? Isa: No. No, uh, Zachary said he’d arrange the plane for me. Since it’s an emergency. Farkle: Okay, good. That’s good.

But they’ve got to go. Like now. It already feels like they’re days late. Farkle zips up Isa’s suitcase and helps carry it to the door where they’re slipping on their backpack.

Farkle: Well, okay, um, text me when you get on the plane. And when you land. Isa: I will. Farkle: And tell Lucas -- well, I feel for him. Let them know if there’s anything I can do -- Isa: Yeah. Yeah, will do.

Isa starts to head out the door, so distracted they don’t even think to say goodbye. Then they seem to remember something, viscerally, doubling back before Farkle shuts the door.

Isa: Wait, wait -- !

Farkle hears them just in time, giving them enough of a chance to slip back through the doorway and pull him into a kiss. Somewhat a goodbye, somewhat a reassurance; a desperate grasp for comfort in the midst of new chaos.

When they pull apart, Isa offers a hasty promise.

Isa: Talk to you later.

Farkle nods, managing a smile in spite of the confusion.

Then Isa is gone, shutting the door behind them. Farkle blankly follows a couple of steps after them, gently pressing his fingers to the cold surface of the door.

He sighs and spins to lean back against it, left in a total daze.

EXT. BURBANK AIRPORT - APRON - DAY

Isa jogs to board the small private jet waiting on the tarmac, the engine humming loudly.

INT. MACNAMARA PLANE - CABIN - DAY

They collapse into their seat, already exhausted, as the pilot informs them they’ll be taking off shortly. Isa goes to buckle their seatbelt and then pulls out their phone, shooting a text to their group chat with Dylan and Riley that they’ll be there ASAP.

It’s only once they’ve begun taxiing that Isa realizes one little detail about their current attire -- they’re still wearing Farkle’s sweater from the night before. Oops.

Pilot, off-screen: All passengers, please prepare for take-off. We’re all clear for departure.

Too late to change now… and honestly, it seems like Isa might find just a bit of comfort in that. They cross their arms and hug themselves lightly, looking out the window at the glaringly blue Los Angeles sky.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Not so in New York, where an overcast sky paints the city dismally grey even at sunset. A light drizzle leaves a shimmer on the concrete jungle, making it all feel even more monochromatic.

INT. CHARLIE’S APARTMENT - DAY

On the television, a local weather report notes that the cloudy, rainy weather is set to hang overhead for the next couple of weeks.

But no one is paying much attention to the television. CHARLIE GARDNER is half-eyeing it, but he’s more so listening to RILEY MATTHEWS converse quietly with ASHER GARCIA and DYLAN ORLANDO, who finally made it down from Rochester in the last few hours. When there’s an urgent knock at the door, Charlie is the one to answer it.

Isa is on the other side, still loaded down with their bags as they came straight from the airport. Charlie exchanges a weak smile with them and offers to get their things off their hands, giving Isa the chance to greet the others.

They don’t say much -- what is there to say -- but Isa does accept a tight hug from Dylan. When they let go, he does hesitate on their new yet vaguely familiar sweater, but opts not to comment.

Isa breaks the quiet first, glancing around to make sure they’re not missing the obvious before asking what’s on their mind.

Isa: Is he here?

EXT. CHARLIE’S APARTMENT - FIRE ESCAPE - DAY

LUCAS JAMES FRIAR is alone, hiding out on the cramped fire escape outside their apartment even with the drizzle. He has his arms wrapped around his knees, pulled in close on himself. His expression is blank, empty, which is almost more telling than if he seemed outright emotional.

Moments later, the window creaks open. Lucas doesn’t move as Isa climbs onto the fire escape to join him, settling down across from him and mirroring his posture.

He doesn’t acknowledge them. They don’t expect him to. They don’t need to say anything -- they used to do this routine all the time, back in the day. The quiet is fine.

They’re there. That’s what matters. And right now, after what’s just happened, it matters more than ever.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

A newspaper lands backside up on the doorstep of a home in the Quincy High neighborhood, already smudging slightly from the rain. The bottom right corner of the visible page becomes our focus, as we ease to get a better look.

The obituaries. There, prominently featured, is a black and white photograph of Kenneth Friar.

Community mourns a beloved coach, teacher, and father Kenneth James Friar 1981 - 2022

The rain starts to pick up, splattering on the paper and causing the ink to run. As Kenneth’s image starts to blur and blend, a distant drum line picks up… then it grows more prominent, as if it’s marching closer…

EXT. TEXAS HIGH SCHOOL - FOOTBALL FIELD - FLASHBACK - NIGHT

That’s because it basically is -- marching, that is.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Tusk” as performed by USC Trojan Marching Band || Instrumental

We’ve been transported back in time, smack dab into the middle of a high energy, high enthusiasm football game. Bleacher stands are packed on both sides; the high school marching band is getting folks hype. Cheerleaders are hollering and doing their choreography, with frenzied pom-pom movements and cheerful chants that the people in the stands echo. The outfits are delightfully mid-90s, and there is no rain in the sky here.

Suffice to say, it’s a far cry from the arts-centric, modern world of Adams we’ve grown used to.

That being said, it doesn’t seem like everyone’s cup of tea there either. In the shadows of the bleachers, a girl watches uncertainly, hovering just out of sight and getting a good look at the crowds without letting herself be seen. She’s petite, with ash blond hair plaited over her shoulder and a shy disposition. The whole scene seems just a bit too loud, too overwhelming for her. While she’s got on a cute sundress, you can hardly tell, as she’s hidden behind an oversized denim jacket that she’s practically swimming in.

It’s a younger Grace Friar, or as she was once known, GRACE KINSLEY (16). And before she was stuck in New York, living the non-life she is now, she was a teenager just like our mains.

The game continues out on the field, giving the cheerleaders the chance to reset and grab some water. This is when one of them catches Grace lingering by the bleachers, brightening and grabbing her attention with a wave. She enthusiastically gestures her over to the fence, and after a moment, Grace reluctantly leaves the sidelines and comes to meet her.

The cheerleader who greets her is full of bubbly charm, tall even as a teenager with a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. She has deep red hair, as fiery as her personality, only tamed right now by necessity into a tight ponytail. Her grin makes up for it, though. This is RACHEL MCGUIRE (16).

She bounces on her feet as Grace approaches, reaching over the chainlink to give her a hug once she reaches the fence.

Rachel: You came! I can’t believe it. Grace: Yes, against my better judgment. Rachel: Oh, wah wah. You are so prosaic. Grace: Did you just pick that one up from the thesaurus today? I don’t think you’re using it right. Rachel: Maaaybe. But whatever, I’m just so glad you’re here! Isn’t it fun? Don’t you just love the energy? Grace: It is… something. All right.

Rachel rolls her eyes. Even if she isn’t going to convert her best friend to the wonderful ways of school spirit, she got her to come to at least one game this year, so she’ll consider that a win.

Rachel: And you’re coming to the party, right? It’s going to be so crunk.

Grace wrinkles her nose. That sounds like the last thing she’d rather do… this scene is already raucous enough. But Rachel senses her hesitation and before she can even say no, the redhead gives her a signature pout, signaling she’s not going to let this drop.

Rachel: Come on, please? Just once. For me. Grace: I don’t know… Rachel: Just for an hour. For thirty minutes. Hell, if you walk in and last five minutes, I swear I will stop asking to copy your English homework. [ taking her hands ] Gracie, it’s our junior year. I want you to experience one party before we graduate and become decrepit old people. Cheerleader: Rachel, come on! We need to get ready for the pyramid! Rachel: Lay off, Jessica! [ back to Grace ] Pleeease?

Well… when she looks at her like that, how can she say no? Grace’s turn to roll her eyes, but she can’t help but smile as she caves and agrees. Rachel jumps with glee and claps their hands together.

When Rachel turns to focus back on her squadmates, something catches her eye on the field.

A couple of football players are looking at them. Two of the cute seniors, the taller of whom is definitely eyeing Grace behind her.

Delightful. Rachel’s eyes widen with excitement, and she leans back to get Grace’s attention again.

Rachel: Gracie. That guy is totally looking at you. Grace: Huh? [ with a slight frown ] Shut up. No he isn’t. Rachel: Yes he so is. I saw it. Oh my God, imagine, you come to your first football game and walk away with suitors? Talk about proving me right that you need to get out more often. Grace: No -- that’s not -- shut up. [ crossing her arms ] They’re not even looking over here. He’s looking at the game. Rachel: The game is on time-out. And he was definitely looking at you. Grace: Doubtful. Maybe he thought I was someone else. Rachel: Is it so impossible to believe that -- Jessica: Rachel!

God, Jessica, could you chillax! Rachel groans, telling Grace they’ll pick this back up later. Grace seems grateful for the escape, gesturing Rachel on her way. She does a little mocking pom-pom move.

Grace: Stay balanced.

Rachel sticks her tongue out at her, then jogs to go join the other cheerleaders. Grace hangs by the fence for a moment longer, taking in the hectic scenery all around her… certainly more her best friend’s domain than her own…

And then she sees it, too. When she looks towards the field at the players, as they get ready for their next play, the left tackle on their team glances in her direction -- and seems to look directly at her.

She doesn’t know him. He doesn’t know her. But his blue eyes are like lightning, even all the way from there… and when he smiles slightly a second later, thunder rattles Grace’s bones.

Well, that’s enough being present and seen for one night. If only that was all. Grace whips around and makes a beeline back for the bleachers, a flush rising up her cheeks. She glances back over her shoulder only once the next play has started and there’s no chance he’ll still be looking at her.

In the rush of movement, all she can make out is the bright white “F” starting the lettering on the back of his football jersey.

Then he blocks an offense maneuver from the opposing team, and the crowd in the stands goes nuts around her, totally dominating the soundscape. The horns of “Tusk” blare loudly --

INT. HOUSE PARTY - FLASHBACK - NIGHT

And become the opening notes of an iconic party banger, playing through the tinny speakers available to the high school teens of the nineties.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Girls Just Want To Have Fun” as performed by Cyndi Lauper || Instrumental

The mood is jubilant at the afterparty for the game, as it appears the home team carried victory. At least, that’s the impression you get as you watch the crowd of players hoot and chant for each other in the living room and chug down celebratory cans of beer.

At the same time, the cheerleaders are having a toast of their own, all raising their red solo cups and taking a shot of whatever their vodka of choice is. Rachel has dragged Grace into this circle as well, who dutifully sips her red solo cup along with the rest but with markedly less confidence.

Once the group disperses a bit, Rachel turns back to her friend and reemphasizes how glad she is that she decided to come out for once. She’s now let her cheer ponytail down and is fluffing out her hair, which looks even more vibrant red in the mood lighting of the party. Instinctively, she reaches out and starts to affectionately nitpick Grace’s hair too.

Grace: Don’t waste your effort. I’m never going to look like you. Rachel: You’re right. That is, I could never be as effortlessly adorable as you are.

She gives Grace a boop on the nose.

Grace: Okay, so, you’re already clearly drunk. Rachel: Am not. Not all of us are lightweights like you. I just happen to know what I’m talking about, which is that you are beautiful and smart and now that you’ve escaped your self-inflicted dungeon of imprisonment -- Grace: I don’t think being an introvert is -- Rachel: The whole world is going to see it too.

Rachel nudges Grace into taking off her armor of denim, allowing her cute dress to see the light of day. She helps her tie the jacket around her waist.

Grace: Maybe, but I’m not sure that’ll do much to cover up the whole… being boring and smelling like hay because I live on a farm thing. Rachel: All part of the allure. [ off her head shake ] I mean, mister left tackle certainly already noticed…

Oh, not this again… Grace grows more shy, pushing some stray hair behind her ear.

Grace: Again, you’re exaggerating. Rachel: Am not. Grace: Why would he even -- he was probably looking at you. You were right in front of me. We don’t even know each other. Rachel: As if that matters? In this case, it really doesn’t. He doesn’t know most people. He’s that senior that transferred over from Claremont. Which is good, because our last left tackle was so shit. But anyway, knowing someone or not does not preclude one from wanting to know someone. Which he does. Want to know you. Grace: How could you possibly know that? Rachel: Because I know things. Because I’ve had three boyfriends, and they all have to start somewhere. [ glancing over her shoulder ] And because he’s looking our way right now.

Rachel’s smile is downright overjoyed. Grace frowns and looks over her shoulder.

She wasn’t lying. The left tackle from earlier is chatting with the quarterback and another player, easy smile on his face… and he keeps glancing over at them.

At her.

Grace whips back around, all levity gone from her expression.

Grace: Oh my God. Rachel: I told you. I told you! Grace: Shut up. Shut up. It’s not -- they’re just looking. It’s not like… it’s not like he’s over here. Rachel: True… for now.

Rachel’s smile widens. She nonchalantly pushes away from the counter and traipses her way towards the boys, Grace watching her in mild horror.

Grace: [ in a whisper ] Rach. Rachel! Come back!

Rachel tosses her a wink over her shoulder, then flips her hair to prime volume as she saunters over to join the footballers. She begins to chat up the quarterback, complimenting him on the excellent win…

And giving mister left tackle a wide open playing field. Grace curses to herself and spins back to face the drinks on the counter, no clue what to do with herself. He probably won’t come over here. Why would he? Rachel is right in front of him now -- he’ll probably become enamored with her. Most men do. Plus, it would be a lot of effort to walk over here and talk up a wallflower. She’s worrying over nothing.

Even so, she feels compelled to seek out some courage. Grace reaches for the vodka bottle and quickly pours herself another shot, downing it compulsively before she can regret it.

Lo and behold, Rachel was right on the money. Grace swallows the liquor and grimaces at the burn in her throat, but she pulls herself back together right before another figure comes over to join her.

Left Tackle: Not bad. Don’t think I could down one of those that fast. Willing to pour me one, and we’ll find out?

Grace braves meeting his eyes, getting a better look at him. And boy, once she does, it is hard to look away. He was striking across the field, but he’s absolutely mesmerizing up close. Tall, well-muscled, with sun-kissed skin and sandy blonde hair. It’s clean cut on the sides but a bit longer on top, Freddie Prinze Jr. style, now fully visible without the football helmet.

Then there’s the eyes. Oh, those eyes.

Grace clears her throat, then does a little shrug. Somehow, she manages to come off coy, despite how her knees feel like jelly.

Grace: I don’t know. Probably not a good idea. I don’t want to be responsible for taking down our prized new left tackle.

He laughs, and the sound makes Grace crack a smile without even trying. And if that wasn’t enough, his smile is absolutely killer.

Left Tackle: Damn, if I’m going to be taken down by the cute little thing by the bar, I think my football career is in trouble. The offense on the other team ain’t got nothin’ on you, huh?

Grace shrugs again, figuring saying nothing is wiser than whatever stupid stuff might come out of her mouth. She’s never been great with words -- spoken ones, at least.

Thankfully, this seems to intrigue him rather than put him off. He leans against the counter.

Left Tackle: Well, if I’ve met my match, I’d at least like to know the name of the girl who is destined to take me down. Can I wrangle that much?

Hm, smooth… Grace contemplates for a long moment…

Grace: Grace.

Pretty. The left tackle smiles brighter, obviously thinking so himself, before nodding.

Left Tackle: Grace. Like the sound of that. [ holding out a hand ] I’m Kenneth.

Grace holds his gaze, taking him in, before letting her eyes drift down to his outstretched hand.

After a second, she takes it.

Cue title sequence.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

The rain continues, creating puddles on the grey sidewalks. A fresh but soggy newspaper left on the doorstep of a different apartment building remarks on the relentless torrent of dreary weather while also giving a subtle nod to the passage of time. Lettering onscreen emphasizes it moments later…

Three weeks later.

From there, the camera pans upward, heading to an upper floor.

INT. CHEY APARTMENT - NIGEL’S BEDROOM - DAY

NIGEL CHEY finishes zipping up his bag, ensuring it’s sealed tight before he ventures out into the rain. Droplets patter against his window as he secures his windbreaker.

He tosses a glance towards the window, obviously not thrilled about it. Considering how unenthused he is about NYU these days, it’s all too tempting to just blow it off and stay in.

But the last thing he needs is a drop in his grades. Not after the hell that was last semester -- and if he does want any chance of transferring, anywhere at all, he’ll want to keep his academic standing above water. So he shoulders his bag with a sigh and heads out.

INT. CHEY APARTMENT - DAY

When Nigel emerges from his bedroom, his family notices immediately. They notice, but no one says anything, not sure how to break the tension.

It’s evident this cold shoulder has been going on for a while. ERNESTO CHEY exchanges a look with LIEZEL CHEY, tacitly encouraging conversation, but she keeps her mouth shut. Even if she did want to speak, she surely wouldn’t know what to say. REYNA CHEY watches the silent movement from her usual armchair, more riveted by it than whatever pathetic soap is on TV.

Nigel pretends not to notice, for once not feeling like the one who needs to placate and keep the peace. He could walk right out the door like he has for weeks now, but Ernesto manages to get a word in before he can disappear.

Ernesto: Quite wet outside today. Bad weather. Nigel: … yeah. Liezel: Be careful getting to NYU. It will be slippery. I don’t want you to get sick.

Nigel chooses not to acknowledge his mother��s comment. The silence stings, but Liezel says nothing else, dipping her head down to her work at the kitchen counter.

Ernesto: Are you sure you want to walk? I could drop you off. Nigel: I have my coat.

He gestures to his windbreaker indicatively. Hard to argue with that. Ernesto reminds Nigel of when dinner is, and he claims he’ll try to be there, but as of the last few days there’s no guarantee that’ll be the case. For better or worse, Nigel is demonstrating he can be self-sufficient when he wants to be.

Even if no one else seems happy with it. Nigel opens the door, Liezel braving one more meek comment.

Liezel: Have a nice day.

Nigel doesn’t respond, shutting the door behind him before she can finish the sentiment. It obviously hurts, though Liezel does a decent job of stuffing it down. It seems Nigel got his knack for compartmentalizing from somewhere.

Reyna, on the other hand, is less than pleased to see it. She frowns to herself, shaking her head slightly as Ernesto and Liezel awkwardly return to their business.

EXT. JUPITER RECORDS - DAY

In natural contrast to the eastern downpour, the sunshine is still relentless over in Los Angeles. It glares brightly against the glassy exterior of the Jupiter Records building, reflecting in all directions.

INT. JUPITER RECORDS - MEETING ROOM - DAY

The mood is decidedly more jubilant here, too, as the EXECUTIVES excitedly inform the gathered young women that they are the official finalists for the coveted five spots in the label’s girl group project. After the retreat and weeks of debate, they’ve narrowed it down to less than ten finalists, six of whom are present in the room with them.

KIMMY PRICE, who looks just thrilled to be included; TABITHA FLORES, who is already impatient to prove herself and tapping her manicured fingers on the surface of the long meeting table they’re seated around. ALEENA SAYYID remains curious but calm, while MADYSIN MAY is busy sitting up on the table and lowkey flirting with the Jupiter representatives present. RONICA LEWIS watches the rest of them wild mild interest, keeping her game face on.

And YINDRA AMINO. She’s managed to squeak her way into final consideration, though what exactly made each of them pass the test remains a secret. So for now she’s trying to remain agreeable and somewhat aloof, holding her few cards close to the vest.

But even this close to success, the pressure doesn’t let up. Because now that they’re this close, the scrutiny becomes even more intense, as the process now requires extra assessment to develop the ultimate configuration of the girls they have left. This means more chemistry tests, more vocal mixes, and any number of personal questioning while they build out the perfect presentation of girl group excellence.

Just peachy. Yindra manages a smile and does her best to hide her nerves, nodding along as the executives lay out expectations for this final step.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - DAY

The Friar apartment has a strange new energy to it. Although it looks nearly the same, just with one less body sometimes occupying the space, something about it has irreversibly shifted. It feels simultaneously heavier yet lighter; shaded with tension yet unburdened with fresh relief. Like although weight still hangs heavy overhead, the space is no longer perpetually holding its breath.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - KITCHEN - DAY

The same seems to be the case for GRACE FRIAR. Although her features are etched with grief, and the bags under her eyes indicate more than a few restless nights in her recent history, there’s a serenity to her that wasn’t there before. She’s tired, but at ease, and she walks the floors of her apartment without dreading every creak under her step.

There’s miles to go before she sleeps, though. Kenneth’s passing may have happened in a moment, but the aftermath feels neverending. So much paperwork to handle, inquiries to follow through on. The man may be dead, but he was sure to leave things for her to clean up after him.

That, and the reminders never cease. She goes through the mail she just collected, looking for legal documents but finding more than a couple letters from well-wishers instead. Old friends from high school or Austin sending their condolences, mourning a great man and expressing their shared grief.

Folks who clearly kept up with Kenneth, but sure didn’t make an effort to stay connected with her.

More than that, they have questions. When will the funeral service be? Will there be one? If there’s financial straits preventing it, they’re happy to contribute. Kenneth was such a wonderful man, after all, it would be a damn shame for them not to have the chance to celebrate his life together. After three weeks, they just have to wonder… and if there will be one, they want to do everything in their power to clear their calendars to be there.

They’re not the only one with these questions. Grace herself has them -- one of the many things keeping her up at night -- but pulling something together has been harder than she anticipated. She knows she could find the help, of course…

But it’s not just about her. Grace places the mail on the kitchen counter and doubles back, heading across the living area to the other end of the apartment.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - LUCAS’S BEDROOM - DAY

As they attempt to downsize and sort through Kenneth’s belongings -- and he certainly had the most things to possess out of the three of them -- Lucas has taken on the task of going through the items stuffed into the closet in his already closet-sized bedroom.

But he’s not making very quick work of it. It’s more like pulling teeth, Lucas seated against the doorframe of the closet and mainly sitting in thoughtless silence. He’ll occasionally pull some random item out of the darkness, turn it over in his hands and try to find meaning in it, before ultimately chucking it into the cardboard box they’ve deemed trash or back into the depths when he can’t decide where it belongs. More often than not, he’s been aiming back into the closet.

Grace arrives in the doorway, gently knocking to get his attention. He stops staring into space and meets her eyes.

Grace: How is it going in here? Lucas: [ with a shrug ] Fine.

Given the trash box only has about one more item in it than the last time Grace checked on him, that’s likely. But she doesn’t point that out, treading cautiously towards what she actually wanted to discuss.

Grace: I’ve gotten more letters. From friends in Austin. They send their best. Lucas: Good for them. Grace: Many of them are asking about services. If we’ve got a date yet. [ a beat ] If we’ll have a date at all…

Lucas doesn’t have the answers, and it’s obvious from his expression that he doesn’t want any. He clenches his jaw and tilts his head back against the doorframe. Grace would like to do the same, but she pushes through and addresses it head on.

Grace: I think we need to decide if we’re going to do this. We can’t keep putting it off. Lucas: Okay? Sounds like you’ve decided then. Grace: I haven’t. I want us to be able to figure it out together. I know it’s -- it’s complicated. But people are asking, and three weeks is quite a long time after someone -- Lucas: Why the hell do I care what “people” think? It’s not their stupid family. [ tossing something into the trash box ] If they care so bad, why don’t they throw a party themselves?

Fair enough. But not helpful. Grace crosses her arms, trying not to bristle at his tone.

Grace: I get that this is weird. I know. You think I don’t know just as well as you do? [ touché ] But we need to act on it. We need to do something. Even if it’s just to get it out of the way, to allow everyone to move on. Including us.

Lucas’s jaw twitches, but he doesn’t argue. He doesn’t look at her either, but the lack of a pithy comment is better than usual lately.

Grace: We can’t just stay in this limbo forever. It doesn’t help anyone. Least of all you. So how about we just… do it. Go through the motions, get through it, and then we can put it to rest. For good. Lucas: [ under his breath ] What a perfectly normal way to talk about burying your husband…

Yes, but when has anything about this family ever been normal? Even so, Grace is clearly put off by the comment. She knows this is hard for him -- she has no doubt about it -- but he seems to forget she lived it all too. In fact, she lived much, much more of it than him.

She doesn’t say any of that, though. If he’s going to act like a kid about it, then she’ll do her best to buck up and act like the adult in the room.

Grace: I’m going to move forward with funeral preparations. Jack and Eric said they would help us with the logistics, so I’m reaching out tonight. [ a beat ] You can be involved, or not, that’s up to you. I get it either way. But I can’t do nothing anymore. Lucas: Okay. Whatever. [ deadpan ] You’re the parent.

Just in case she forgot. Since their situation has been so fucked up, and convoluted, and he basically raised himself. Since she’s never seemed very good at being one before, guess now is as fine a time as any.

It’s almost like he’s fourteen again. Like he has so much anger, so much pain, and he doesn’t know who actually deserves it, so Grace gets a heaping share. All the nuance of their world has died with Kenneth, and now it’s just the two of them left to sort through it and remember how to live with it all.

Grace is giving all the patience she has left towards him, but God, if it isn’t hard sometimes. She chooses to hold her tongue and steps away, leaving Lucas in the quiet once again.

He doesn’t seem thrilled with how that went either, but holding everything together is taking up enough of his mental power right now. He swallows the ache in his throat and sniffs, reaching for another pointless object in the darkness.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - DAY

Some of that darkness lingers with MAYA HART, who looks about as tired as Grace. She’s seated at the kitchen table but isn’t eating her breakfast, instead staring blankly out the balcony door towards the bright Los Angeles sun.

Her shine is dulled enough that Farkle notices, remarking on it when he exits his bedroom with his backpack and finds her at the table. He jokes about catching her in a rare pre-glam moment, which she just manages to remember to smile at.

Farkle: Honestly, I’m more impressed I managed to catch you at all. I feel like you and I have just been missing one another constantly since you got back from your retreat. Melissa and Justin must really be working you hard for the EP. Maya: Um, yeah. Yeah, it’s just been… super busy.

She’s a good enough actress that her delivery is just believable enough -- at least with someone as equally consumed with their own emotional baggage as Farkle. That’s what Maya wants to discuss anyway, using Isa as a convenient route to get the topic as far away from her and Global Beat as possible. Once they gloss over any updates from the Friar front…

Maya: Isa tell you all that? Farkle: No, Riley. Isa’s been… I’m sure they’re overwhelmed. And busy. Just with everything going on with Lucas. Maya: Right. They did leave in a pretty big hurry. [ a beat ] I couldn’t help but notice the couch was all clear when I came back though. That weekend. Farkle: Oh… yeah. Well. You know how I like to… keep things clean. And tidy. Maya: Mhm. It certainly didn’t look like anyone had slept there the night before, though. Let alone anyone six feet tall. Farkle: [ clearing his throat ] Yeah. Well. Isa said I should just share the bed with them. That it was stupid to be on the couch when we’ve been friends for -- you know, a long time. Maya: Right… Farkle: And it’s comfortable. Casual. We were just being, you know, cool about it. Maya: Of course. So must have been a good weekend, then? Farkle: Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’d say… yeah. Maya: Good vibes. Chill times. No big news to report. Farkle: Uh, nope. Yeah. Yeah… no, yeah. Maya: Right.

For such a good actor in his own right, Farkle really is terrible at being nonchalant. Maya can see right through him, and it’s the first time in days that she’s felt compelled to crack a smile. He meets her eyes, and she simply quirks an eyebrow knowingly.

That’s all it takes. Farkle caves, spilling into a hasty explanation about everything that happened with Isa. Partially just because he can’t seem to help himself, but also because it’s clear he has been dying to tell someone. With the way things ended so abruptly, with Isa having to rush off to help Lucas, it feels like he’s been living his life on pause for the last three weeks.

Maya listens attentively, with mild amusement, letting him stammer out all of the spinning thoughts in his frazzled head until he manages to wear himself out.

Maya: Wow. Farkle: So now it’s like -- I mean, I’m trying to be cool about it. And I am. This is a serious time, and I want to respect that and give them all the time they need. I get it. But I’m also like… I mean, what am I supposed to do with myself? We didn’t really get to talk about it, and like -- I had sex with them. One of my best friends. Maya: Ew. But yeah, crazy. Farkle: And I don’t want to like make a big deal out of it, or be insane, but how am I supposed to not be crazy about that? Am I insane for wanting like… I don’t know, a shred of insight as to what they’re thinking about the whole thing? [ hiding his head in his hands ] For the love of God, am I ever going to stop being a disaster? Maya: Sources say no. But that’s okay, that’s my favorite thing about you.

In any case, she understands why he feels so wound up. If something that big shifted between the two of them, it would make her anxious too. He’s valid, but she can only hope Isa will have the sense of mind to let him know what they’re feeling about it sooner rather than later.

On the other hand, she can’t help but find the whole thing just a little bit funny.

Maya: I’m just trying to figure out when exactly you became such a hot commodity. Like, Zay? Sure, he’s always been hot shit -- and wouldn’t let anyone forget it. But you, my darling, baby giraffe Farkle Minkus? When did you suddenly become such a whore?

Farkle groans, shoving Maya’s elbow and making her laugh. Although the comment is in jest, Farkle feels the need to defend himself.

Farkle: It’s not like that. This wasn’t just… I mean, yes, okay, hooking up with Charlie was one thing. Maya: Still insane, by the way. Farkle: But this isn’t the same. It’s Isa. It’s not… it’s always been different with Isa.

The sentiment is said so delicately for how it may as well be stating the obvious. But Maya doesn’t rib him for that. Instead, she softens, eyeing him with equally gentle fondness.

Maya: I know.

She may have been onto it even before either of them, in fact. She knows Farkle has long carried this torch -- and how fragile his heart has been as of late. As long as he’s closer to being happy, that’s all she really cares about.

For now, though, he has to go to class. When he asks if Maya will be heading back to the studio today, she freezes momentarily, before expertly deflecting. She claims she’s been doing some last-minute song-smithing here, and that her producers gave her the all-clear to hermit away until she’s got it polished how she likes. So if he sees her milling around the apartment more than usual, he shouldn’t think anything of it.

Never mind the real reason she can’t bear the thought of stepping foot back inside Global Beat. If Farkle never finds out -- if no one ever does -- then all the better.

INT. NYU - THEATER - DAY

A matinee production of Ghost is currently rolling, EVAN SCOTT and his co-star playing the Whoopi Goldberg role occupying the stage. The show must go on, and it certainly is, the world inside the theater walls proceeding as if nothing has changed.

Which explains why Riley is mentally anywhere but onstage. She’s waiting in the wings, due to reemerge under the lights in the next scene, but her focus is elsewhere. She’s pacing the darkness and engrossed by her phone, keeping up a text conversation with Lucas. He’s given her the update about Grace wanting to move forward with services, so there’s a lot to discuss and unpack.

Riley tries to type out a thoughtful reply, but Lucas beats her to her next message.

“Don’t worry about it. Probably easier to just talk in person”

Which is likely true, but also feels like a convenient way to nudge confronting the feelings as long as possible. Riley hastily deletes the paragraph she had typed before, instead agreeing and assuring him that she’ll be there as soon as this performance wraps up.

On stage, someone repeats their line more forcefully, but Riley still doesn’t notice. It’s not until a stagehand nudges her and informs her she’s missed her cue that she pulls it back together, quickly pocketing her phone. From her perch on a stool in the shadows, IMOGEN LEE snorts.

Imogen: Damn, Riley. If you’re basically out to lunch, I can take over. I have been studying my lines…

Riley so does not have the bandwidth to deal with petty understudies right now. She ignores Imogen and takes a deep breath, doing her best to shove the real world from her mind and get back into character.

As she steps out onto the stage --

INT. NYU - DRESSING ROOM - LATER - DAY

Riley finishes stuffing her bag in a hurry, still half in costume and make-up as she rushes to leave. The show has just barely wrapped up curtain call, but she doesn’t have time to waste.

INT. NYU - BACKSTAGE HALLWAY - DAY

As she steps out of the dressing room, she nearly runs into Evan, who catches her arms before she can topple over. Once he confirms she’s all right, he asks where she’s running off to.

Evan: Auditorium is this way. You know Hill is going to have notes. She -- Riley: She always does. Yeah. It’s not that I don’t want to hear them, I just… I really have somewhere else I need to be. [ checking her phone ] Did you feel like the orchestra was moving at the speed of sludge today? We’re like twenty minutes later than usual. Evan: Uh, no. I was more concerned with remembering the right notes.

He says it playfully, but there is a slight edge to his tone. Imogen isn’t the only one who’s noticed Riley seems less than focused -- and now it’s starting to affect the production.

Still, Evan approaches it more tactfully than their peer. He lowers his voice to give them more privacy, waiting until a couple of their castmates pass by and disappear through the stage doors to speak.

Evan: You missed your cue. Before intermission. Riley: Yeah. Yeah, I know, sorry. Evan: All good. It’s just a college musical. I just wanted to check… like, is everything okay? You haven’t seemed quite like yourself.

No, Evan. No it’s not. She doesn’t have time to be there for her friends who are facing some of the biggest auditions of their lives, nor have basically any involvement in her roommate adjusting to letting their father into their world. She can’t be there for her friend who just ended a toxic relationship, or help her candidate jump into his hard-won new role.

There’s just been a major death in her may-as-well-be family that has shattered all sense of normalcy, and she doesn’t have nearly enough time to help pick up the pieces. There’s just not enough her to go around.

But none of that is his business, so she shrugs.

Riley: Yes. Yeah, it’s just…

She really doesn’t have the words to express it. After another wordless head shake, she settles for little.

Riley: I’ve got a lot on my mind.

Clearly, if she’s forgetting when she’s supposed to enter stage right. Before Evan can respond, she’s distracted again by her phone, buzzing with another text from Lucas.

“Don’t bother. Don’t want to burn you out between shows. It’s all pointless anyway”

The frown on her face signals this isn’t the kind of reply she wants from him. Evan eyes her curiously, but wisely decides not to dig deeper right now. He opts to stick with the things he can address.

Evan: Well, whatever you’ve got going on, don’t be any later. I can take any notes Hill has for you -- aside from the imminent comment about your late entrance. Riley: Of course. That would be great, Evan, thank you. I owe you big time.

He nods, offering a smile and leaving her be. He glances back at her over his shoulder as he steps back into the auditorium, watching her become absorbed in her phone yet again.

Another text from Lucas.

“Just go home. Talk later”

Her boyfriend is going through what may very well be the biggest emotional clusterfuck of his life, and she can’t be there for him. Not the way she wants to be. The longer she’s gone, the easier it is for him to do this. To pull away; to recede into himself and bottle it all up. To be crushed under it, when this is precisely the moment he has to power through. She hates that she can’t be there, when all she wants to do is be there by his side to endure it together.

There’s not enough time -- and she dreads the possibility that she might just lose him too.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “I Have Nothing” as performed by Whitney Houston || Performed by Riley Matthews

Although she’s been killing it on the stage, nothing beats a Riley performance that’s coming authentically from the soul. As she walks the backstage halls of the theater, singing her solo soliloquy, it feels more captivating than any professional staging or bright stage lights could fabricate.

That always goes doubly when she’s singing about Lucas. The lyrics are more than fitting. In the same vein as “On My Own,” “My Man,” and “Better,” no kind of performance demonstrates more of Riley’s range than the ones straight from her heart -- and at this point, the two are one in the same.

Lucas is her heart. And if he’s breaking, she’s broken too.

Don't walk away from me I have nothing, nothing, nothing If I don't have you

Once Riley reaches the end of the hallway, back in front of the stage doors, the camera pans away and makes her feel smaller and further away. Before the key change can hit around 3:05, her vocals start to distort, sounding far away and bleeding into Whitney Houston’s original track --

EXT. RURAL COUNTRY ROAD - FLASHBACK - DAY

Which becomes diegetic, playing through the chunky over-the-ear headphones of Grace’s portable CD player. She’s on her walk home from the bus stop, her family farm a good mile out from where the closest public school bus drops off.

Grace doesn’t seem bothered by the walk. It’s one of her favorite times of the day, actually, time to be alone with nature and get lost in her thoughts. With a well-worn pair of cowboy boots and the autumn breeze, there’s no better chance to find a second to breathe.

Only today, it seems, she’s not alone. She frowns slightly when the song starts to end and she hears gravel crunching behind her -- someone driving along the dirt road. It doesn’t get much use on a typical afternoon. She glances over her shoulder.

An older but very cool blue Ford pick-up is ambling down the street. She expects it to pass on by -- maybe doing business with the Carmichaels down the hill -- but it slows as it approaches her. For a moment, she tenses, not sure whether she should be wary…

Until she recognizes the face behind the wheel. Beautiful eyes, and that smile that could start wars.

Kenneth. He pulls up beside her and rolls down the passenger side window, offering her one of those coveted smiles. She removes her headphones, looping them around her neck.

Kenneth: Howdy. Fancy meeting you here. Grace: I live here. Kenneth: In the middle of the road?

Grace blushes, already flustered just from his attention. They’ve been chatting a bit for weeks now, definitely flirting here and there, yet he doesn’t seem to lose any effect on her. It’s almost annoying. She pushes some hair behind her ear.

Grace: You know what I meant. Kenneth: Sure did. That’s why when my parents surprised me with this baby this afternoon, and I got to take it for my first drive, I thought hey -- what better place to cruise for a while?

So he came right to see her. Grace doesn’t know what to do with that information, so she breezes past it.

Grace: It’s nice. I like the color. Kenneth: I know. You love blue.

Yeah… she does. After a beat, Kenneth runs a hand through his hair.

Kenneth: Can I give you a ride? Grace: I’m used to the walk. It’s okay. Kenneth: I ain’t asking if you can handle it. Knowing you, I’m sure you can. I’m asking if you want a ride.

Well. That is different, isn’t it. Does she hold out her resilience, stay sane and keep walking the path of safe, familiar independence… or does she get in the car with him?

Somehow, the choice is easy. Grace takes a deep breath and steps off the grass, approaching the car. Kenneth’s expression is utterly delighted as he leans across the console to unlock the passenger door.

She climbs up into the seat and exchanges a shy smile with him.

EXT. KINSLEY FAMILY FARM - FLASHBACK - DAY

Kenneth pulls up outside Grace’s home, putting the truck in park. Directly in front of them is the farmhouse, a modest but charming dwelling surrounded by acres of green. Several dozen feet away, the red wood of a barn is visible, and adjacent another dozen feet, a roomy stable with a fenced-in riding pasture.

INT. KENNETH’S TRUCK - FLASHBACK - DAY

Although there’s nothing holding her back, Grace doesn’t immediately get out of the car. There’s something nice, and a bit enthralling, about sitting in his passenger seat.

Grace: Thanks for the ride. Kenneth: ‘Course. Any time. Grace: Don’t make promises like that. You’re gonna end up a chauffeur before you know it. Kenneth: Hey, if it means getting to spend a little more time with you, then I’m game.

The compliment comes out effortlessly smooth. So damn charming… Grace can feel the blush crawling up her cheeks.

She flushes even further when Kenneth takes a long moment to take her in, gazing at her with a soft shade to his features. After a moment, he starts to lean closer…

As per usual, Grace panics and deflects. She interrupts his move with conversation, letting words spill out of her without thinking.

Grace: What are you up to for the rest of the afternoon?

Kenneth hesitates. The slightest edge of frustration creeps into his features, but it ebbs away quickly and is replaced with amused fondness. There is something about this little cat-and-mouse game they have going on that is all the more enjoyable. It’s like the more she plays hard to get, just dancing outside the perimeter of his obvious interest, the more appealing she becomes -- whether Grace is doing it intentionally or not.

Kenneth: Probably practice. Some weight-training -- coach says I need to gain another five-to-ten to maximize my impact on the field. Grace: [ sure, she totally gets what that means ] Uh-huh. Kenneth: So the usual. Football, avoiding homework, ignoring my dad when he tries to grill me about football and/or homework. How about you? Grace: Um… homework. [ off his laugh ] Then maybe some writing, if I have time. Kenneth: What kind of writing? Grace: Just… personal stuff. Silly stuff. Nothing important. Kenneth: You like, an author or something? I didn’t know you were into all that. [ off her shrug ] So when do I get to read your stuff? Grace: Yeah, uh, try never. Kenneth: Oh, come on! Don’t tease me like that --

He reaches out and playfully tugs at her braid, which she giggles at before swatting his hands away. Their hands brush and linger for a moment longer than necessary, before Grace pulls hers back and twiddles with the end of her plait.

Kenneth slouches back in his seat, whistling and shaking his head as he gets another good look at her.

Kenneth: Dang. A bona fide writer. I mean, I knew you were smart and everything, and you’ve got those killer grades in English. But… Grace Kinsley, you truly are something else.

No one has ever said anything like that to her before. No one has ever looked at her like that, the way he is right now. Like she’s actually there rather than invisible -- like there’s something worth seeing.

It’s thrilling, but also terrifying, so Grace feels the sudden instinct to bolt. She offers another shy smile and starts to gather her bag.

Grace: First things first, I have to feed the horses, so. Best get going.

EXT. KINSLEY FAMILY FARM - FLASHBACK - DAY

Grace hops out of the car, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Kenneth looks disappointed to see her go -- and a bit disappointed that his excuse to prolong heading home has run out.

Kenneth: Writer girl, horse girl -- is there anything you don’t do, Kinsley? Grace: Football.

Kenneth barks out a laugh, which earns another smile from her. Kenneth thinks on that, a moment of vulnerability breaking through.

Kenneth: As someone who does, gotta admit, think right now I’d rather be feeding the horses.

The comment surprises Grace. Given how good he is at the game, how much of a king he seems like on the field, she assumed football was naturally his whole world. She never would’ve guessed there was even a hint of conflict hidden beneath that strong veneer.

Somehow, the moment makes her feel the desire to open up too.

Grace: Do you want to see them?

The invitation slips out before she can question it. Kenneth contemplates… then grins.

INT. KINSLEY FAMILY FARM - STABLES - FLASHBACK - DAY

Grace pulls open the door to the stables and enters first, signaling for Kenneth to move quietly. Since he’s new, his presence might unsettle the horses. He playfully mimics her gesture, pretending to zip his lips.

Tellingly, the horses do react to the unfamiliar face. They grow skittish, whinnying in apprehension. Grace shushes them and talks softly as she makes her way further inside, Kenneth hanging back a bit to watch. Although it’s a marvel to see how natural she is with the creatures, he seems a little perturbed by their reaction to him.

Kenneth: Don’t think they like me. Grace: They don’t know you. Like I said, they’re shy around strangers. Kenneth: Fitting. Sounds like someone else I know.

Grace rolls her eyes, petting the nose of one of the ponies rather than responding.

Kenneth: Guess they should work on their socializing skills. How many other people have you brought in to meet them? How’d they fare?

This time, Grace is silent for other reasons. Her expression grows more guarded, and slightly embarrassed. The lack of an answer speaks volumes, though, Kenneth putting it together fast enough.

No one. Grace hasn’t brought anyone else in here.

This is her safe space, a sacred shelter, and somehow he’s managed to find his way inside.

Cautiously, he saunters over to join her by the horses and does his absolute best to be unassuming. Considering he’s a hulking football player with no sense of subtle, it doesn’t work, the horse Grace is currently petting skittering away a bit as he approaches.

Kenneth: Sorry. I’m more trouble than I’m worth. Grace: Don’t say that. Kenneth: Think they’ll ever like me? [ looking at her ] Do I have any chance?

The question feels loaded. Grace meets his eyes.

Grace: You have to earn their trust.

She’ll do her best to help him, if she can. Utilizing her own goodwill with the horse, she lures it forward again, back up to the edge of the pen. She soothingly rubs its nose and then dips her forehead against the flat of its muzzle, Kenneth watching in bewildered fascination.

Once it seems calm enough, she glances his way… then takes his hand, gently guiding it up to brush the horse’s nose.

Cute a moment as that might have been, it doesn’t quite land. Because nope, this dude has not earned its trust, and it’s not playing the same games Grace may be. The horse brays and shuffles backwards again, out from under their hands.

Kenneth: Damn it. Grace: [ with a laugh ] Don’t worry. Just give it time. Kenneth: … so does that mean I’m welcome back here again?

It sure does seem to imply… Grace realizes that, pausing and glancing at their hands. They’ve come to rest on the edge of the gate, hers still laid on top of his tan fingers.

Kenneth doesn’t seem at all opposed to that. In fact, he starts to flip his hand to link their fingers together, but Grace slips away, retreating further into the stables to distract herself with the horse feed.

As much of a tease as she seems intent on being, Kenneth manages to take it well. He swallows his impatience and follows her over to the oat barrels, taking a good look around. An item hanging on the wall above her catches his eye.

Kenneth: What’s that?

Grace follows his gaze, landing on the same sight. It’s a decorative horse shoe, slightly larger-than-scale and made of shimmering blue glass.

Grace: Nothing. Just some art. Kenneth: Well, I don’t believe that. Wouldn’t be hanging in such a high place of honor if it wasn’t special. Grace: It’s in a stable. Kenneth: Which is a place of honor to you. Ain’t that right?

Touché. Grace doesn’t deny that, keeping her eyes on the oat scoop.

Grace: My mama got it for me when I was little. From a local artist in North Carolina, when my parents went. I couldn’t go, stayed with my grandparents, but she knew I was sad about it. I wanted to see the wild horses. So she brought me back the next best thing.

Learning a lot about each other today. Kenneth continues to look at it, absorbing how much it means to her… then lets his gaze drift back to her.

Kenneth: So you were always big on ponies? Or did she just take a lucky guess that you’d be obsessed -- Grace: How did you know my favorite color is blue?

The question slips out unprompted, confusing Kenneth. He raises his eyebrows when she turns to face him, her expression guarded… but delicate too.

Kenneth: What do you mean? Grace: When I saw your truck. I said “I like the color,” and you said you know. That I love blue. Kenneth: … yeah? Is that wrong? Grace: No. It’s right. It’s exactly right. How did you know that? Kenneth, amused: Is that a real question? You told me, Grace.

Once, in some inane conversation in the last few weeks, she must’ve mentioned it. Offhanded, to fill the space, not thinking anything of it herself.

But he heard her. He listened.

Grace: Oh. I don’t remember that. Kenneth: Well, I do. [ a beat ] I remember everything you say.

Oh. Grace’s stomach flips, and that flush returns to her cheeks. She doesn’t turn away from him, but her gaze dips to the floor, not sure if she’s ready to be so seen.

But Kenneth is ready. He’s been ready. He steps closer.

Kenneth: I like listening to you. Grace: I don’t know why. I’m not good at it. Talking. Kenneth: I think you’re dang good at just about everything. Grace: I’m not. I don’t… talk, and I don’t… let people in here -- Kenneth: And yet, here we are. Grace: I don’t let people in. You hang around long enough, you’re gonna figure out why. I’m nothing special. I’m -- I’m just -- Kenneth: Grace.

He’s made it in front of her now, closing the distance between them. Grace has backed up against the feed station, nowhere else to run and hide. Nearby, the horses whinny uncertainly.

With a tender touch, Kenneth reaches and tilts Grace’s chin upward, guiding her into meeting his eyes again. Not allowing her to shy away. This time, she doesn’t pull away.

The space between them grows thinner… Grace has the sense she should slip away, the relentless instinct for self-preservation, but it’s suddenly hazier in the magnetic storm of his grip. They inch closer… and closer… their lips almost brush…

Kenneth: [ in a murmur ] Do I have any chance?

In an instant, Kenneth gets his answer. Because despite his eagerness, Grace caves first, leaning into their first kiss. The first one is slow, testing the waters, and they break for a quiet moment to catch their breath when they pull apart.

Then, it’s game over. Kenneth cups Grace’s face and pulls her into another kiss, this one more urgent than the first. And by some grace of God, or maybe the Devil, Grace loses all her reservations in the thrill of his embrace. She matches his fervor and kisses him back, grabbing his flannel and pulling him close.

We pan up and away, lingering on the decorative horseshoe…

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Out of the fog of the nineties and back in the present, Charlie is back at Chubbies. He has his travel journal open and colored tabs ready to organize, but that seems to be as far as he’s gotten. He’s distracted this afternoon, lost in his own head as he stares blankly out the window and watches people pass on the sidewalk without really seeing them.

He certainly doesn’t see ZAY BABINEAUX, who enters the diner from the other side of the street. Unlike Charlie, he’s energetic and alert, and he only brightens further when he spots the all too familiar back of Charlie’s head.

But he has to tread cautiously -- it’s been a minute since his little revelation during his audition, but the feelings haven’t changed. So he may not be able to pull off nonchalant as expertly as before. He needs to act strategically to avoid embarrassing himself.

So Zay does what he does best. He goes for a tease. He quietly approaches from behind and then strikes by surprise, reaching over the back of the adjacent booth to tap Charlie on his far shoulder. He jumps in response, naturally looking over his shoulder until he realizes that’s silly a second later, since he’s just looking at the window -- and whips his head back around just in time to find Zay standing at his table with a cheeky smile on his face.

Charlie: Jeez. Zay: Hi. You’re twitchy today. Charlie: You scared me. Zay: Since day one. It’s basically my job.

Charlie resists the urge to roll his eyes. Zay plops into the booth opposite him, asking how things are going. What’s he working on? Before Zay can get too close a look, Charlie swiftly closes the journal and subtly pulls it closer to himself.

Charlie: Nothing much. Just killing time until those college acceptances come through. Zay: Seriously? Charlie: Were you expecting something else? Remember who you’re talking to here. Zay: Wah, wah. But no, not particularly. I just feel like -- I don’t know, I assumed you were booked up. I feel like I haven’t seen you in weeks.

Yeah… that would be the lowkey mood-swing-depression hibernation… classic ostracized-by-Eleanor coping mechanism. Charlie avoids getting into it, though, clearing his throat and shrugging.

Charlie: No, yeah, I’ve just… um, been busy.

Response of the month, apparently. Zay can tell he’s being vague, but he decides to let it go for now, because being near him again already feels volatile and pushing any buttons when he’s so internally unsteady feels like risky business.

And he already has a big ask on his mind. Speaking of colleges and acceptances…

Zay: So. Turner. I’ve been wanting to talk to you about it. Charlie: Oh, shoot, yeah. Sorry, I totally meant to follow up -- Zay: Why are you apologizing? Don’t apologize to me. Charlie: Okay, right. Sorry. I mean --

Charlie winces at himself, earning a laugh from Zay. He takes a second to compose himself, skipping the compulsive apologies, then starts again.

Charlie: I meant to check in earlier. Zay: Before you evaporated? Charlie: Sure. So, what? Did you hear anything? I feel like if you had, you would’ve said something. Zay: Correct. Believe me, if they’d told me anything worthwhile, you’d be the first to know. [ shaking his head ] No, they’re saving that big reveal for later. But they’re doing a post-audition semi-formal gala of sorts this week to celebrate everyone’s hard work, and for getting this far, blah blah blah. Charlie: Wow. That’s nice? Zay: Yeah, in theory. Only they’re also announcing the three finalists for the two spots at this thing, rather than sparing us all the tragedy or just saying which two got picked upfront. Charlie: Wow. That’s… a lot. Zay: No fucking kidding. Blood might be spilled, Carrie style. Not to mention it’s such a dramatic as fuck way to do this whole thing, but I guess that’s kind of par for the course in the business. The other part is that we all get to do some sort of solo presentation, like a little talent show, to make us all feel good and special before they harpoon most of our high hopes.

It’ll be interesting, at least, there’s no doubt about that. Based on his expression, Charlie seems grateful he’s not trying to exist in this industry more and more every day.

Zay: Anyway, the circus allows each of us to invite a plus-one, and I was thinking you could come with me. [ a beat ] You know, as a thank-you for showing up in the first place.

It takes Charlie a minute to process the request, and once he does, he isn’t quite sure he can believe it.

Charlie: Oh. Zay: I know I didn’t exactly sell it that well, but I swear it’ll be fun. Probably. Maybe. At least entertaining. And not stressful for you, considering you don’t have any stakes in the whole thing. Charlie: Well, aside from you… Zay: Aside from me. But personally. All the more reason to have you there -- I’m going to need all the luck I can get. Charlie: No, right, ha ha. For sure. I just, um…

Charlie subconsciously grips the edge of his journal, hugging it a bit closer to him.

Charlie: Is Vanessa gonna be cool with that? Or are you all not allowed to like, be each other’s plus-ones? Zay: Oh. No. No, uh… don’t think she’d like that very much anyway.

That’s foreboding. Charlie frowns, confused, opening the door for Zay to truly catch him off-guard. Forgot to mention this little detail…

Zay: We ended things. A bit ago.

Charlie stops breathing. For how sharply those words just sent electricity through his veins, though, he does a remarkable job of keeping it together.

Charlie: Oh. Shoot. [ frown deepening ] I’m sorry. Zay: [ waving him off ] It’s… you know. Whatever. I mean, honestly, it’s fine. For the best. Like, we liked each other, but with the competition and everything…

Not to mention the whole still-in-love-with-your-ex thing. But details, details. Regardless, the point is that there’s certainly no issue here. There’s no barriers to entry, and no reason not to follow his gut and invite him along.

That is, except for Charlie himself. If he doesn’t want to go, no harm, no foul.

Zay: Like I said, I totally get if it sounds like a lot. You were just my first thought.

If Zay says one more nice thing so easily like that, he’s going to knock him out. But Charlie manages to keep his cool, contemplating for a moment before shrugging.

Charlie: Why not? I’d be happy to come. Thanks for inviting me.

Zay grins, relieved. Charlie aims to shake off the strange tension that seems to have resurfaced between them, taking a shot at his expense.

Charlie: Besides, it’s probably wise for me to tag along. If this really is going to become a bloodbath, you’ll need someone to cover you -- or pull you out of there before you commit murder.

He kids, but he hasn’t met the Turner cohort yet. Zay makes a face.

Now that he’s gotten through his high-stakes request -- and got the answer he hoped for -- Zay’s brain is working enough again to think about anything else.

Zay: Speaking of shit we meant to ask about, how did that thing from the other night go? When you left the audition? I know you were pretty serious about it.

God, Zay, you have no idea… and he still won’t, as Charlie side-steps the question once the initial rush of dread wears off.

Charlie: Oh, yeah. Yeah, it went… great. All good.

Zay smiles, and Charlie just manages to mirror it.

INT. JUPITER RECORDS - OFFICE - DAY

To round out the afternoon, Yindra finds herself specifically called into the office of one of the main label representatives putting the girl group together. The LABEL REP greets her cheerfully and invites her to sit wherever she’s comfortable.

Label Rep: We’re just waiting for one more.

That has Yindra more uncertain than before. She figured being singled out was either very good news or very bad news, given they’re running at six right now, but if she’s not the only one then she isn’t sure what to think.

Even more so once Aleena appears in the doorway, receiving the same warm greeting.

She and Yindra eye each other curiously for a second, both trying to suss out what could have possibly brought them both here. They’re not similar voice parts. They don’t have the same core skills. Aleena is far from Yindra’s most direct competition, far as she could surmise.

Even so, there they both are. Aleena offers a tight smile and takes the seat next to Yindra, both of them turning their attention to the label rep.

Label Rep: First, I just wanted to offer my most sincere congratulations. It’s quite the feat that you both made it this far in the process, and I hope you’re very proud of yourselves.

Yindra senses hedging, but Aleena beats her to a pithy comment.

Aleena: I’m saving the pride for if I actually make it, personally.

So they can skip all the niceties. What is this really about? The rep gets that signal, clearing their throat and getting to the point.

Label Rep: It’s no joke about how talented both of you are. Between us, you two are certainly some of the strongest contenders in this crop, and I’m not just saying that. There’s so much going for each of you, so in that regard, keep doing what you’re doing. Yindra: But…? If we’re here discussing it, surely there’s a but.

Indeed. The label rep goes on to explain that as they well know after the retreat experience, the label is taking everything into consideration when crafting the ultimate girl group to resuscitate the genre. That goes for skill, but marketability as well. Looks are one factor, of course, which neither girl should be worried about -- they’re both gorgeous. However…

Label Rep: The general public is a fickle beast, particularly the American subset. Did you know consumers will become averse to a product they traditionally love just because the packaging suddenly changed colors? Or because the text of the brand name is just slightly too big?

Point is, the smallest details really do matter. That goes doubly for the industry, where being an entertainer basically invites scrutiny to an abnormal degree. This is something the label is keenly aware of, and trying to anticipate every angle as they put together the perfect combination of women. For the two of them…

Label Rep: The concern has been raised that your names may be… too similar.

Yindra frowns, confused. Aleena looks less caught off-guard, but just as perturbed.

Yindra: I’m sorry? I don’t understand. Label Rep: With a girl group -- or any group, for that matter -- you want each member to be distinct. To bring their own unique personality and flavor to the table, that dissuades any sense of interchangeability. You want there to be the feeling that this combination of girls is it, the absolute pinnacle of personas coming together for a master class in performance. Aleena: Right. Sure. Yindra: But I don’t see how that applies? Our names aren’t similar. I mean, I guess they both end in “A.” Aleena: So does Tabitha. Label Rep: Yes, well -- Aleena: And Ronica. Yindra: Wow, maybe there are a lot of “ah” ending names -- Label Rep: That’s not the concern. But the reasoning is beside the point.

Regardless of why, they’ve honed in on these two as a potential issue, and they want to be ahead of the curve by proactively finding a solution. Thus, why they’ve summoned them there today.

Label Rep: We’re hoping that one of you -- or both, if you so choose -- would be willing to take on a nickname. While a member of the group.

Something more distinct, and ideally poppy. A pseudonym that’ll ring fresh with the rest and help create the perfect symphony of names that just flies off the tongue.

Although she can’t put her finger on why, the suggestion makes Yindra uncomfortable. Despite how cheerfully the rep is pitching it, something just doesn’t feel right. Aleena seems equally resistant.

Aleena: So you want us to play a part. Label Rep: No. No, not at all -- Aleena: You’re asking us to take on a different name. Isn’t that inherently being someone else? Label Rep: Absolutely nothing about either of you needs to change. You have great assets all around, and we want to highlight that. It’s just about… finding the right label. Spicing up the packaging. That’s all. We want to give you the best chance for success.

Only a name isn’t just a label -- it’s an identity. It’s Yindra’s identity, and she isn’t sure she wants to get her start being known by something else entirely.

Label Rep: Some of the greatest artists out there today have stage names, after all. Like Lorde! Or… or, um… Yindra: Lady Gaga. Aleena: Cardi B. Yindra: Halsey. Aleena: Lana Del Rey. Label Rep: Yes! Yes, all of the above. You totally get what I’m saying.

Except she couldn’t be bothered to do her own research first… well, suppose that’s the joy of having the grunt work in a project like this. It’s certainly not one of the label executives sitting down with them to have this conversation.

Aleena: So how is this being decided, exactly? Label Rep: Well, that’s the best part. We know you all are working on building collaboration, and we want to foster that one-hundred percent. So we’re putting the choice in your hands! The two of you can work it out amongst yourselves who would like the fun little name remix.

Oh, even better! They not only want one of them to drop their identity, they’re going to make them battle it out to pick who. Less blood on their hands. Aleena and Yindra exchange an awkward side-eye.

Label Rep: To help you decide, the label is going to send you a list in the next couple of days with some of the new names they’ve been workshopping for you. So you’ll have a much better sense of what this new pop persona might sound like before you have to pull the trigger.

With that, she’ll let them go, but they’d love it if they could hear back before the end of the week.

INT. JUPITER RECORDS - HALLWAY - DAY

As they exit, Yindra tries to make conversation, mostly to cover her own discomfort.

Yindra: That was weird, right? Kind of dumb to make us have to work out their aesthetic preferences, but -- Aleena, flatly: It’s not about aesthetics.

Yindra pauses, uncertain. Aleena stops walking and sighs, deciding to just give it to her straight.

Aleena: It’s not that our names are similar. You said it yourself, they’re not. They’re basically at opposite ends of the alphabet. Yindra: Yeah. Which is why it’s dumb that -- Aleena: It’s not that they’re alike. It’s that they’re not white enough.

Yindra’s stomach drops. That must have been where the itching sense of distaste came from. It wasn’t said out loud, not by the label, but…

Aleena: Look, I’ve been in this business a couple years now, and they all play the same games. [ with an eye roll ] They want diversity points, and lucky them based on the girls we’ve got left, they’ll get them. That’s not a bad thing. But… God forbid it sounds too much like it.

If prime marketability is what they’re after… well, something’s gotta give. Apparently. Whether that’ll be Yindra or Aleena, though…

For now, remains to be seen. Aleena claims she’ll hit her up later, once they’ve both had time to think through this bullshit.

Aleena: That is, if this doesn’t make you wanna run for the hills. Wouldn’t blame you.

Or is she just saying that, so she’ll get out of her way? Hard to say.

Yindra doesn’t respond, left standing in the hallway and suddenly feeling more alone than ever.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - DAY

Riley steps into a similarly lonely entryway, though the promise of company is just around the corner where the light is shining. It’s strange to walk this apartment without feeling like you’re treading on eggshells, but that’s exactly what she does, heading into the living area.

Grace spots her first, currently sitting on the couch going through boxes from the bedroom. She stands when she sees she’s there, more than a little surprised.

Grace: Hi. I didn’t realize you were stopping by. Riley: Yeah. I hope that’s okay. [ holding up a takeout bag ] I figured with everything you guys are working on, you probably aren’t super focused on meal prep. This place is on the way from NYU, so thought I’d grab something. Keep everyone fed. Grace: That’s sweet. Thank you. But I hope you’re not taking too much time. Shouldn’t you be at the show -- Lucas: Riley?

Both women pause, turning to look at Lucas standing in his doorway. He heard her voice and couldn’t be sure he wasn’t going crazy -- although despite his request that she skip coming by, he doesn’t seem upset to see her there.

Lucas: I thought you weren’t coming.

Riley can answer both questions in one. She smiles at Grace, then holds Lucas’s gaze, resolute.

Riley: I’m between shows. I’ve got time.

To her, being there for him is never going to be a burden.

That little detail cleared up, she passes off the food to Grace, encouraging them to dig in whenever they’re hungry. She’ll grab some before she heads back for the evening show, but in the meantime, what can she help with? She’s eager to contribute however she can.

Now that she’s there, Lucas isn’t going to fight her on it. He gestures for her to join him and she happily obliges, the two of them quietly discussing whatever minimal sorting Lucas has managed to accomplish.

Grace dutifully takes the food into the kitchen before returning to her own task, pausing for a moment to listen to Lucas and Riley chat in the other room. It’s reassuring, honestly, to hear how different his tone is with her. Far less unpredictable, and less abrasive, than she’s been navigating the past couple of weeks.

It makes her smile, even just a bit… and in some ways, it takes her back. She settles back onto the couch and goes back to sorting through one of the smaller boxes she pulled from their bedroom closet, a mish-mash of mementos and photographs.

As she lingers on one of her and Kenneth from high school…

EXT. AUSTIN SUBURBS - MONTAGE - FLASHBACK - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Alright” as performed by Supergrass || Instrumental

We’re thrown back into the rose-tinted world of the late nineties, fully submerged in the whirlwind of Kenneth and Grace’s young romance. It’s reminiscent of The Notebook, full of whimsy and charm. They walk the halls of school together, Kenneth insistent on showing off his new girl despite her shyness and less-than-popular everygirl status. She attends more games to cheer him on, a joy to both Kenneth on the field and Rachel cheering on the sidelines.

He indulges her hobbies too, though, infiltrating more time in Grace’s sacred space as she cares for the horses on their farm. He listens attentively enough while she bores him with details about them, and the two get playful as she teaches him how to harness and ride one. He also makes a habit of bothering her while she’s trying to do homework, or write in her journals -- he even snatches it from her at one point and starts to flip through it, which she only manages to get back once she’s playfully wrestled him for it and he’s stolen a kiss instead.

Of course, they do that too. Kiss. More and more frequently, the longer they spend together. At school, on the sidelines during games when they’re between plays, after Kenneth takes her home. Deeper and longer kisses in his bedroom, or hers, or in the barn when he’s managed to distract her from the horses. In one shot, he nudges her back against the wall and kisses her hard, Grace’s decorative horseshoe wobbling dangerously on its hook.

Though Grace remains more hesitant than him, and more likely to turn her cheek or shy away from his affection with a bashful grin, Kenneth isn’t deterred. He seems to take it in stride -- more of that hard-to-get game he felt she’s been playing with him since they first met. If he is frustrated, he’s doing a good job of hiding it, and she usually makes up for it with another adorable quirk or embrace a moment later.

It almost feels like a dream. The whole sequence of little moments and memories is so disarming and endearing, it’s almost possible to forget who we’re looking at and what they become. Some things are less clear in hindsight…

In fact, watching the two of them here, they could pass for any of our favorite AMBITION duos. Cute, carefree, full of natural chemistry and the undeniable desire to be near each other.

Feel alright…

EXT. THE HIGH LINE - DAY

Nigel and Zay are on the High Line, taking the chance to share a walking lunch in an otherwise hectic week. They both commiserate about the fact that they’re glad they’re not the ones dealing with funerals and all that, let alone this week.

Zay: I’ve got enough on my mind with this whole transfer gala thing. I told Riley if she needed anything, she can totally hit me up, but… suffice to say, Friar always reminds me that I am extremely lucky to have the family I do. [ elbowing him ] We lucked out in one way at least, huh? Nigel: Oh, yeah… for sure.

The agreement is hollow, but not enough for Zay to notice. He can sense that Nigel isn’t quite zoned in, though, so he tries to gear the conversation towards him. How is this semester going? Any better than last -- he hopes?

Zay: Surely NYU is realizing what they’ve got with you in their ranks, or I don’t know, man. If they don’t choose you, they oughta lose you.

He says it jokingly, but he has no idea exactly how spot on he is. Truly no clue, because of all people, Nigel hasn’t told him one word of his UK ambitions. Not that he couldn’t, in fact, he knows Zay would empower him without hesitation. He’s all about bold moves and asserting your worth.

Yet, even now, Nigel demurs. He opts not to say anything, because when he looks at Zay, all he hears is a relentless echo in his brain.

You are not Zay Babineaux!

He loves Zay, but he can’t understand this. They’ve never been the same.

So Nigel shrugs, redirecting the conversation back to Zay’s big events this week.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - MAYA’S BEDROOM - DAY

Despite how casually she played things off with Farkle, Maya is far from the pinnacle of productivity these days. She mainly spends her time holed up in her room, pretending to be songwriting but not actually getting anything done. If you asked her, she probably wouldn’t be able to tell you how she spends most of her days. It all feels like a big blur.

Until lighting strikes and brings everything into sharp, stinging focus. Maya sits up from her blanket cocoon when her phone vibrates with a text. She’s already preparing what she’ll say to Farkle to deflect, or assure him she’s busy, but it’s not from him.

It’s Justin.

“Hey hey heyyy, hope everything is good with you! wondering when ur thinking about getting back into the studio? we’ve got hit songs to create for your big EP debut haha”

It’s so casual it’s actually disturbing. As if nothing happened, as if everything between them is exactly how it was before the retreat. It’s so easy for him to brush it off and forget -- no big deal, no consequences.

It’s not that easy for Maya. She’s been doing everything in her power to forget about it, about him, for weeks. But it’s a losing battle, considering he and Melissa were becoming her whole world. Seeing it thrown back in her face is so unsettling, it makes her sick.

Literally. Suddenly sure she’s going to vomit, Maya pushes the blankets off of her in a frantic rush and races for her bathroom.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - BATHROOM - DAY

She collapses on the tiled floor in front of the toilet, dry heaving and hands shaking. Thankfully, nothing comes out, but that’s mostly because she hasn’t been eating too well lately either. Once the intense bout of nausea subsides, she groans and falls back against the side of the bathtub.

Maya has never felt this way before. So unsteady, affected by the smallest shift in the wind. So… weak.

She hates it. She hates it, and there’s nothing she can do about it. The damage has already been done.

But at the very least, she can protect herself from attacks like this. With vitriol, she reaches for her phone and opens the text thread with Justin, then slams the block button.

Brief moment of empowerment ebbing away, Maya crumbles again, folding in on herself and slouching down to let her forehead rest against the cold porcelain of the bath.

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - OFFICES - DAY

Justin isn’t the only one wondering about Maya’s absence. JOSH MATTHEWS has noticed -- partially because it’s so quiet without her blathering on and on about herself.

And because he’s got outstanding business with her. He never did hear back after he left her that voicemail, even though he’s been checking his messages and missed calls repeatedly. He thought he might be able to catch her in the office, at least let her know he left it in case she just for some reason missed it…

But clearly, that isn’t going to be so simple. Because for weeks now, M.H. has been M.I.A.

Josh clicks into his drafts in his email, where we see he’s crafted an entire email of all his notes to Maya about her demos. Thoughtful, even-handed with praise and constructive criticism, having given each of them more effort and time than Melissa or Justin have thrown their way combined. He wrote them down in the off-chance she rejected him outright, so he could at least give her the material to do with as she pleased…

But he can’t send it. He can’t let go of the hope he might be able to discuss it with her in person.

It’s dangerous to contemplate it here anyway. He goes back to his inbox, skimming through an email that just came through from Ernest Floyd. Based on the amount of exclamation points he included, he’s very excited about whatever he’s cooking up.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said and been putting it to work. I’m putting a bunch of new stuff together, and I can’t WAIT to show the world. I’m using one of those demo tracks you made me last summer -- prepare to be AMAZED!!!!!”

That’s nice. If only anyone on Earth cared. Josh starts to type out a canned encouraging response, just so he knows he’s still in his corner, but he’s distracted as MELISSA SUZUKI returns down the hall from lunch. She gives him a cheerful greeting as she passes. Josh returns it, about to let the moment pass…

Josh: Hey, is Maya coming in today? Or… at all this week? Melissa: Oh. You know, I’m not sure. I don’t think she’s on the calendar. [ playfully ] That’s your job, isn’t it? Josh: No, she isn’t. She hasn’t been. [ a beat ] I just thought maybe you all were meeting off schedule or something. Or she might stop by. I feel like she hasn’t been around in weeks.

Sure hasn’t, Josh. And Melissa knows this -- there’s a moment where her features flicker with recognition, and bizarrely, what looks like a hint of shame -- but she brushes it off a second later.

Melissa: I think she said she was going to take some time out of the studio, actually. Do some workshopping on her own. Josh: Oh. Okay. Melissa: But she should be back soon. I’m sure.

Melissa gives him a smile, then lets it drop. Josh doesn’t question further, but something about it all is still bothering him… if she’s working so hard on stuff on her own, then why is she leaving him on read? He thought they had gotten through their rough patch, that things were in a good state. If it’s not just her being petty for no reason again…

What is he missing?

[ 411 Hub ] [ Next (Part 1, half 2) → ]

#411

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camels-pen · 3 years ago

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had a dream about randomly waking up and being Conner and M'gann's future kid or smth with absolutely no clue as to how i got there and now i'm thinking of a dp yj crossover with Danny being their kid and ending up in the same scenario.

like, he has enhanced strength and has a lot of powers similar to a martian, so this could actually work p good.

Okay, i see this as going one of two ways:

Danny is actually their kid, but Danny's memories of his past life (DP canon) catch up with him and mess with the memories of his current life.

Danny is not their kid, he has no idea how he got here and why these people insist he's their son. He's half-convinced this is one of Vlad's schemes and/or that they're kidnappers. (I'm leaning more towards this one)

Either way there would probably be a lot of Danny freaking out and trying to run away as soon as he could. This includes, of course, a panicked use of his powers, which surprises Conner and M'gann enough for him to escape.

At this point, he'd try to make his way to Amity Park and either find that it doesn't exist, was completely destroyed, or there's no evidence of ghost attacks/the Fentons/Sam and Tucker/anyone Danny might recognize.

Danny... has a bit of a rough time.

Regardless of which option I choose ('actually their kid' vs 'not their kid'), the reason things are different in Amity is because this is years in the future and also a different universe. It's probably Clockwork's fault tbh.

Danny doesn't know he's in an alternate universe so he kinda just, yknow, gets real sad and falls asleep in the park or something.

Conner and M'gann get some help and track him down. They're pretty heart broken to find their little boy sleeping on a bench with clear tear tracks on his cheek. They take him back to the bioship and discuss how to talk to him when he wakes up and how to help him with his 'new powers'.

When Danny wakes up in Conner and M'gann's house, he's much more resigned and quieter than before. Kinda listless too.

He doesn't know where he is, FentonWorks was destroyed/doesn't exist so he can't go into the Ghost Zone and ask Clockwork for help, and Vlad hasn't shown his face so he's just... stuck with these people.

there'll probably be a meeting with Dinah or something after a while of Danny showing the same behaviour and eventually, maybe, perhaps everyone will figure out Danny's from an alternate universe, but for reasons I haven't determined yet, he can't go back.

Eventually Danny will realize that Conner and M'gann aren't so bad, especially compared to his real parents, and will start to warm up to them. Maybe there will be a key moment when he actually seeks out one or both of them for comfort that cements them as trustworthy adults, at the very least.

then blah blah fluff blah blah angst blah blah story and Danny warms up to them a lot more and starts thinking of them as an uncle and aunt in his head (ignoring the fact that they act more like parents than Jack and Maddie ever had)

THEN there's gonna be this big incident where every hero available is asked to help out, including Conner and M'gann, and Danny is staying with uhh, Lucas Carr or one of C&M's other friends.

Danny sneaks out to go help, obviously, and Conner and M'gann are Not Happy and trying to send him back home, but oops too late, no one can leave now because The Incident has become much Much worse and will probably destroy the Earth if they don't stop it soon.

At one point, The Incident makes a portal into the Ghost Zone, a portal that's within eyesight to Clockwork's lair, a portal that Danny could easily fly into and go home, but that would mean leaving before The Incident was resolved and he couldn't do that. He also couldn't leave without saying goodbye.

So he stays, and he fights, and he does everything he can to help.

And then

The heroes are down. Many are injured or out cold. No one is unscathed. There are only a handful of people left standing, including Danny, Conner, and M'gann.

They won't be able to resolve The Incident with just the handful of people awake and able to move. But Danny has an idea. A very very bad idea.

He looks at the portal, allows a brief moment of mourning, and then absorbs the energy of the portal into himself, literally channeling the energy of the Ghost Zone through himself, to make a huge beam or ecto-construct or massive blast of ghost ice to resolve The Incident.

The downsides to doing this is how absolutely drained he feels afterward. Oh, and by using up the portal's energy Danny caused the portal, possibly his only way home, to close.

Conner, as the strongest dude still awake and moving, watches over The Resolved Incident, and M'gann holds Danny as he mourns his home.

#nemotime #DPxDC #dp yj crossover #dp dc crossover #long post #I'm imagining this as post-YJ s4 of course #im not gonna mention spoiler stuff though #but if i ever write this... lets just say i have Ideas #there would definitely be more seperate moments of Danny with Conner and Danny with M'gann #plus Conner and M'gann are probably gonna disagree on some things here and there of course #like what im trying to say is i basically wrote them as a unit in this post but i would write them as seperate people #with differing opinions and stuff if i wrote this fic #The Incident is probably ghostly in nature #which is why Danny went after them. definitely not because he was worried about them #wow this is A Lot longer than i was expecting lmao #aw fuck #now im thinking of Danny pulling a Tim and going on a ConnerQuest like Tim's BruceQuest #man that'd be something #i cant think about this though #i cant get sucked into making another post when i already took so long making this one jshdjgadfg

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fictionadventurer · 2 years ago

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Powers and Prejudice #1: Origins

It didn't take Lizzie's enhanced observational skills to notice that Mom was upset. Sparks crackled in Mom's hair as she paced the living room end-to-end. Mary, sitting by the window with two open books, ignored her reading and followed Mom with her eyes. Kitty sat invisibly on one end of the sofa, but Lizzie could tell by the sound of her rustling hair that she was following every movement. Only Dad--the habitual cause of Mom's outbursts--was unaffected, sitting in the armchair as calmly as if he were alone.

"You have no compassion on my nerves!" Mom moaned, electricity sparking down her arms.

Dad lifted a hand, and a book flew from the shelf, opened itself to the first page, and hovered just below his eye level. "On the contrary," he said, his eyes on the page. "I have great respect for your nerves. They have been my companion for the past twenty years."

The lamp beside Dad's chair dimmed and flared with Mom's emotions. "With one phone call, you could secure us invitations to the university's fundraising gala, and you refuse to do anything!"

Dad turned a page of his book without lifting a finger. "I was unaware you were so passionate about education. If you like, I can write a check. Seems rather a waste to return so much of my hard-earned salary to my employer, but if it pleases you, my dear--"

Mom cut him off with a wave of her hand. Sparks crackled around her fingertips. "Why are you so difficult? You know very well that we need the tickets so Jane can debut as a Netherfield superhero."

Dad said, "I should think organizers would object to our eldest daughter smashing through walls in the middle of such a prestigious event."

Perhaps overhearing her name, and knowing from experience how dangerous it was to let Mom plan her future unimpeded, Jane entered from the other doorway, still wearing leggings from her dance class. Jane, the kindest and most unassuming of the Bennett girls, also happened to be able to stop trains with her bare hands, and was thus the focus of Mom's hopes in getting her daughters established among Netherfield's superheroes.

Mom said, "The only reason these events exist in Netherfield is to give supervillains something to attack! If Jane is on the scene, she'll be in a perfect position to help with the rescue efforts."

No one but Lizzie could have noticed the slight flush in Jane's cheeks or the quickening of the pulse in her neck. Jane had been preparing for this future her whole life, but Lizzie alone knew how much the expectations weighed on her. She met Jane's gaze and gave a reassuring nod. Jane gave a slight smile and shrugged a shoulder, as if to say, it had to happen sometime.

Dad turned another page. "Your public-mindedness is admirable, darling, but surely, if the event is in such grave danger, Netherfield's established defenders will already be providing security."

"That's why Jane has to be there! The Blur is back in town, and the Captain will no doubt be on patrol. I've even heard rumors that the Archer has been spotted in Netherfield."

Lizzie glanced around the room and saw that all her sisters were as surprised as she was.

"The Archer?" Lizzie asked. "Outside Pemberley?"

"Mrs. Lucas swears on her life that she saw him prowling near the river last night."

Lizzie shuddered. Bad enough that the creature hunted the superhumans in the city of Pemberley. Had Netherfield come under his dominion, too?

Lydia raced into the room, streams of electricity crackling behind her. Lydia saw little reason to rein in her power, so even at the age of sixteen, she always sparked like an overexcited toddler. She even bounced like a toddler who'd been promised a treat. "The Archer? This one doesn't have a sidekick yet, right? Can't I go? I'm more powerful than any of us."

Lizzie gave her a disapproving glance. "Which is why the Archer would skewer you."

"Oh, Lizzie," Mrs. Bennet said. "Overthinking everything. The Archer is known to partner with superhumans."

"The old Archer," Lizzie replied. "This new one has had to fight an awful lot of superhumans to keep Pemberley from falling back into chaos, and he hasn't exactly been friendly."

"Which is why," Mom said, "Jane must make connections with established superheroes before displaying her powers. We don't want the Archer or anyone else mistaking her for a villain. And here we have the perfect opportunity for a public debut, and your father refuses to act!"

"I don't see why it falls to me, my dear. You're the one who wants your daughters to risk their lives in combat. If you wish Jane to debut in the company of a known and trusted superhero, you could dig your old costume out of the mothballs. You're nearly as trim as you were in those days, and about as suited to hero work as any of our daughters."

"You know that I have nothing like enough power to be of use in a fight these days," Mom said, though she blushed slightly. (Did she even notice Dad's sarcasm?) "And it would be far better for her to work with superheroes who are already working in Netherfield."

And the best way to do that was to hope someone attacked a charity fundraiser? Lizzie could have pointed out a dozen flaws in the plan, but Mom didn't like to be logic-ed at. Best to let Dad take the brunt of this one.

"Why just Jane?" Lydia asked. "Why can't we all go? I'd be so good in a fight."

"You're also sixteen," Lizzie pointed out.

Softly, Jane said, "I'd really like Lizzie with me."

"I'd rather stay home," Mary said. "Violence is an unfit use for our extraordinary gifts."

From her armchair, Kitty coughed and asked, "Can't I go?"

Mom jumped in surprise--Kitty was still invisible--then threw up her arms in distress. Sparks singed the ceiling. "None of you will go because we can't get tickets!" As the girls babbled protests and suggestions, Mom stalked out of the room with her hands to her temples. "Quiet, all of you. I'm getting a headache. I don't want to hear another word about the charity ball."

Dad's book floated shut. "Is that so? I wish you'd have mentioned it earlier. It would have saved me a call to the university office." He lifted a hand, and a drawer opened in the writing desk on the far side of the room. An envelope rose from it and floated into his hand, revealing three tickets to the university's fundraising ball. "They were happy to give them to a professor of my standing, but if you're not interested, I'm sure I could pass them off on someone more willing."

Mom lit up. "You had them the whole time? I should have known! You're far too good a father to let an opportunity like this pass by."

"This is for the sake of promoting education," Dad said, "and as such, Lizzie is the only one of you with any right to go. But if the university is in as much danger as you fear, it's only right that you go, my dear, and take Jane with you to protect you from any falling debris."

Lydia and Kitty whined in protest, even after Dad explained that they had to be eighteen to get tickets, but none of that seemed to affect Mom's headache. It seemed to have vanished with the good news.

While Mom paced the room and praised her husband, Dad floated the tickets toward Lizzie while looking at Jane. "I'd wish you a good time, but given the circumstances, I hope your evening is beset by a dozen disasters and you managed to defeat them all."

Lizzie took the tickets. Jane smiled tightly. Mom made plans for costumes.

#powers and prejudice #jane austen #superheroes #adventures in writing #what the hey #i've spent too much time plotting this silly au not to write something on the p&p side of things #this is very rough and very silly but here you go #for as rough as it is this took me an embarrassingly long time to write #more than two people in one scene? i hate it #how do people do this?

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dolche-tejada · 3 years ago

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As much as I love Heisenberg, one of the best antagonists of Resident Evil with Lucas and Wesker in my opinion, I really hate his boss fight. Seriously what a conceptual waste, there was no ambition in it and it was stupid on so many levels.

So we're talking about a guy who can manipulate magnetic fields and what does Capcom give us ? Just another fight against a huge monster on whom to do "Pew ! Pew !". Like c'mon, this transformation brings absolutely nothing and makes the fight very banal in the RE Universe which already has a lot of similar bosses. I would even go as far as to say that it makes the character way less impactful. Hell, do you realize that Karl never used his steampunk hammer against Ethan ? And why does he need to transform himself anyway ? As far as we know, it doesn't even increase his powers and turning into this mechanical mess makes him pretty vulnerable since he is much less mobile.

Also, what leads to this transformation is so dumb... Why does Heisenberg turn into a monster in front of Ethan ? The latter's weapons have literally no effect against Karl's magnetokinesis, we can clearly see it and the room where they were both was filled with metallic debris, Karl could have defeated him in a few seconds... Like at his first appearance actually. And wait, we could also talk about this fucking polymer tank that's supposed to be unaffected by magnetic fields. Do we agree that it's a load of bullshit since Karl lifts it with his powers during the fight ? More dumber, at the very end we shoot him with our firearms which are suddenly not affected by Karl's powers...

Besides, why would Karl want to build a tank that was supposed to be unaffected by his powers?

I know I sound like I'm nitpicking, but think about it for a second, can you imagine all the possibilities of confrontations that such an antagonist offers ? For example, we could have a stealth fight similar to the one in "Arkham City" between Batman and Mr. Freeze.

For those who haven't played that game (really guys ?), the player faces an overpowered enemy that he can't confront directly and is therefore forced to hide and use his environment and gadgets in creative ways to attack him by surprise. But that's not all, Freeze adapts every time the player finds a vulnerability and immediately makes sure to prevent him from taking advantage of it again, forcing the player to constantly reinvent himself. Can you imagine a similar fight in the Heisenberg factory ? Running around to escape this opponent against whom our weapons doesn't work, hiding and using the factory's environments against its proprietor ?

We could also have had a fight where Heisenberg, still human, fights by controlling his army like puppets (to enjoy the "Dr. Frankenstein" side) ; one where he stalks us in his factory like Nemesis and where he uses the environment, vehicles and mechanical tools to kill us in an almost claustrophobic environment, idk something original ?? It could have been amazing and even more in line with the survival horror genre that the license is trying to return to.

#karl heisenberg #resident evil heisenberg #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #resident evil karl heisenberg #ethan winters #resident evil ethan winters #batman #batman arkham city #mr freeze #boss fight #heisenberg #resident evil #lord heisenberg #resident evil viii #re8 #re8 heisenberg #re8 village

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kaypeace21 · 4 years ago

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Stranger things & Door symbolism (narrative analysis)

We see doors have a lot of symbolism and different meanings but to a certain extent it’s about respecting/not respecting boundaries &privacy, and being open or closed to others emotionally.

In s2 Max picks the door of the av club (trying to easedrop on the boys)-and it goes wrong (and causes dart to escape). Similarly, in s1 Karen picks Nancy’s bedroom door lock (and Nancy does not open up to her emotionally despite Karen saying “you can talk to me”). BUT in s3, we see Karen contemplating picking Nancy’s door again-and right after she decides not to try and pick the lock and respect Nancy’s boundaries (Nancy finally opens up the door and herself emotionally to Karen).We even see Jonathan in s1 pick Lonnie’s car door (which we know is not a healthy dynamic).

Nancy also tries telling Jonathan not to break into Lonnie’s car-similar to Jonathan trying to convince Nancy (in s3e3) not to break into mrs. Drsicol’s via opening the front door.

We also see because jonathan doesn’t respect Lonnie (can’t blame him). So,Jonathan walks in uninvited through Lonnie’s front door -to investigate-similar to what Nancy did to mrs. Driscoll in s3 . These prior examples are also similar to El breaking into Heather’s house by using her telekenesis to unlock the front door (for her and Max’s investigation) . Or doing the same thing to Becky in s2 (for her solo investigation ). Why we have a shot of just El, Nancy, and Jonathan peaking through the doorway.

El unlocking latches also mirrors how the demogorgan ALSO used telekenesis to unlock the front door latch of Will’s house .

In fact flayed Bruce attacking j*ncy in s3, mirrors Will first being attacked by the demogorgan in s1. Jonathan & Will both lock the doors- than Nancy & Will try calling for help- but the supernatural creature unlocks their latches and both Nancy & Will drop the phones because of this.

we also see through every season-given El’s upbringing- El doesn’t respect boundaries with doors -since she never received it with Brenner (who would come into room whenever he pleased/closed the door and threw her in solitary) .in s2-3 she uses her powers to pick/UNLOCK doors -to open them . And in s1 she used her powers to LOCK a door- and forcibly CLOSE the door to trap the boys in the room (akin to the closed door in solitary).

This scene directly contrasts an earlier scene of Mike respecting El wanting the door open -by having El later NOT respect the boys’ desire for the door to be open . Mike asks if she wants the door closed and she says “no” so he lets it be open. When Lucas tries to open the closed door- she closes it and says “no”. (she had other in universe reasons for doing this- but this scene is later also paralleled to Hopper in s3 locking Mike in the car against his will, when he tried leaving. Similar to el closing the door on Lucas in s1 when he tried leaving.

In s1 (with El’s ptsd and) with El not understand privacy- she wants her door open . But in s2 when wanting privacy she closes her bedroom door (as Hopper demands she open it, and she cries). in s3 she also closes her door (now wanting privacy) when kissing Mike/ being on the phone with Mike/ hanging with Max ( and Hopper again yells at her to open the closed door). Max even criticizes Hopper by saying “do you knock? JEEZE”And in s3 flayed Billy yells at El and co to “OPEN the g*ddamn door”. In s2/3 we also see Hopper yell for el/Murray to ‘OPEN the damn door’ (despite murray having a “keep door CLOSED”sign).

*flayed-Billy also smashes the glass on the door to try and unlock the door-similar to flayed Bruce at the hospital.

And In s2 we see Neil tell Billy to “open the door” . In fact the first word uttered after the door is opened, is by Billy -who says “what’s wrong?”. The same thing occurs when Hopper in s3 says to “open the door” -the door opens and Mike says “what’s wrong?” (as another parallel) .

The Byers also in opposition to this, respect doors/boundaries of Will’s:

Will (similar to Muray’s sign) has a “no trespassing” sign on his front door in s1 (also akin to the one at Hawkins’s lab). And when Will rides by the Hawkins sign- what happens, he’s chased by the demogorgan. But Jonathan and joyce respect Will’s sign/boundaries- Jonathan knocking on Will’s DOOR in s2 before entering & Joyce ringing castle byer’s DOORbell (and getting verbal permission) before entering in s1.

However, Jonathan doesn’t respect Lonnie :

so walks in uninvited through the door ,break into Lonnie’s car, and opens Lonnie’s trunk (door) without permission. later jonathan gets angry the cops/ Hopper searched his trunk (without permission) . Sort of matching his later hypocrisy of being ok to break into Lonnie’s car but not mrs. driscoll’s house.

of course - this is because Lonnie doesn’t respect jonathan’s boundaries. again- the demogorgan is called “the deep father” in d&d. And a light-bulb is shown in Lonnie’s shed when it attacks Will. So we see Lonnie behind an open door (of Jonathan’s room) and a single lightbulb. A single red light bulb is shown -when Jonathan doesn’t respect others boundaries and develops photos. Later when the demogorgan is in Jonathan’s house- Jonathan hides in Will’s room and the ‘keep trespassing’ sign FALLS OFF the door - when the demogorgan comes near. And again we had a shot of Lonnie next to the ‘no trespassing sign’ too.

So how does this relate to romance? Or the supernatural?

For romance

Well what does Nancy do in s3 (unlike Karen in s3)? Well she not once, not twice but 3 times- opens jonathan’s door (despite the sign saying “please,do not enter” (when red light is on). which is similar to Will’s “no trespassing “ /murray’s “keep door closed” sign).This is despite jonathan telling her not to-over and over. We see the first time she enters and he tells her this- she says “sorry”, but after she rolls her eyes (and than later she does it 2 more times-showing she’s not actually sorry). It shows a lack of respect for her partner and his photography (light destroys his photos). This is similar to Jonathan busting into Lonnie’s. Or El -not respecting doors in every season (and spying on her bf who in s3 was not happy about this).

Which is one of the reasons j*ncy & m*leven were (verbally) paralleled specifically in s3 .Both pairings have no trust in boundaries/privacy- Jonathan taking those pics in s1 vi*lated Nancy’s boundaries/privacy, Nancy in s3 ruins jonathan’s photos while disrespecting his boundaries,El spies on Mike in s2-3 and says she makes her own rules-and doesn’t care if it made Mike uncomfortable.

We even have in s3e3-nancy & El break into people’s houses via the front door (to show how similar they are).

This also correlates to my other post- where I talked about the theme of spying on love interests being done by many characters too (Jonathan to Nancy in s1,s2 lucas spying on Max, max on lucas in s3, steve and rando-girl who rejected him in s3. El in s2-3 to Mike.And on the nonromantic end -the mf /the us gov spying on our heroes, El in s1 being trained to be a spy, karen spying on Mike in s3 via phones, similar to how the government agents in s1 monitored phone calls,etc. The snowball even had l*max/ m*leven (who that season spied on eachother ) dance to a song about a st*lking ex- while the spying mf watched them as well).

Also as another romantic contrast to doors in s3:

Mike throws El in his closet (gay ref) and closes the door (to his real emotions ). As Karen says to Mike “talk to me’ about Will (similar to Karen saying to Nancy “talk to me” in s1 ) .And she says to Mike “I never want you to HIDE anything from me.” (which he literally is doing).

Similar to Nancy ins1 who’s door was closed (to symbolize being emotionally closed off from her mom -it signifies he wouldn’t open up to Karen in s1 about Will (cause he’s too occupied CLOSING his CLOSET door for EL- and pretending to be straight).

Than in s3e1 during m*leven kiss it pans to a the rainbow drawing (which says Mike) & a drawing of Will the wise as the lyrics “just a little more time will open closing doors”plays. After this, at Will’s house in s3e1 ( while Will claims he won’t fall in love) you hear the lyrics in the back ironically play “Love that was new to you-you open up the door.” Like - go back to episode 1 -it’s true. After Joyce says ‘ok;- the song gets much louder just for the lyric “you open up the door”.XD I’m not making this sh*t up (they purposely didn’t subtitle the segment panned to Will but it’s clear as day) ! The other song Mike kisses El to in ep 1 is ‘can’t fight this feeling’ (which is about a guy afraid to tell his friend of many years that he loves them-but who is afraid to do so and ruin their platonic relationship- which doesn’t fit m*leven who kissed in less than a week . the song lyric also has the phrase “if i have to ...come crashing through your door, baby I can’t fight this feeling anymore.” XD Than after “time” (3 months/last ep of s3) El kisses Mike- infront of WILL’S OPEN CLOSET door, in Will’s room, while El holds Will’s bear that comes between them. El (similar to Karen’s closet scene) even tries to get Mike to talk about his “feelings” which he avoids doing with El (/ Karen). As mike doesn’t open up to El emotionally he also doesn’t reciprocate the kiss- or say i love you back-and the same song (’the first i love you’) which played when, in s3 ,Robin rejected steve cause she’s gay- plays. And both stobin/mileven s3 confessions also heavily parallel . I mean coming out as gay used to be called “coming out of the closet”...

The supernatural: Doors & upsidedown- “ A doorway between worlds”

Murray ,in s3, (translating for Alexi) calls the gate a “doorway between worlds”. While Mr clarke also calls it a “doorway” and discusses Hugh everete’s “many worlds” theory. So later when NOT respecting Mr.clarke’s boundaries and interrupting his date - Dustin says about the supernatural/deprivation tank “why are you keeping this curiosity door LOCKED?” We also see on the st soundtrack -the song playing while alexi is explaining the upsidedown - is called “the door is opening”. And @ghostgirlinsatin mentioned this detail after I orginally posted this-when alexi runs away ‘neutron dance ‘ plays and the lyric is “I’ll just stay behind this LOCKED door.”

We see mr clarke stab a pencil into a plate and Alexi stab a straw into a box to illustrate this doorway. Along with Lonnie hammering a nail into a wall in an attempt to close a open door (and saying someone should be held accountable for what happened to Will). it transitions from Lonnie repeatedly hitting the nail with a hammer to Mike stabbing a plate with a pencil -like mr clarke -and explaining how Will got to the upsidedown. Because ironically- Lonnie is the cause of what happened to Will (and should be held accountable). gif visuals-here.

If you’ve read my ‘crashcourse of evidence for Will creating the upsidedown/mf” or the longer version called the “did theory” you generally know where this is going.

Like Dustin said- the upsidedown is a “alternate dimension” a “dark echo of our world.”

Which I believe Will created based on suppressed memories. A few things appear to be triggers-bathtubs, clowns, and slamming doors. When Will first sees the upsidedown in s2- the arcade door slams open (making Will jump). And later when first seeing the mf (his front door opens by itself-similar to the demogorgan opening the door in s1). In s3 when Billy yells to open the door- Will senses the mf (and touches the back of the neck-which a season prior was associated with memories).

I think the door imagery (to some extent) represents Lonnie coming home and slamming/unlocking the front door. in s1 when Hopper knocks at Joyce’s door aggressively (she says ‘go away lonnie’). Demogorgan in d&d also means ‘deep father’ & Nancy says the demogorgan is like a “lion” (lonnie’s name means lion). And just all the other connections to the demogorgan and Lonnie I talked about in my ‘crashcourse post’ (baseball, hunting,lights,etc). And the fact Billy and el (who are heavily paralleled to Will) also have Dads yelling to “open the door” is suspicious too. I mean Neil calls his son William a “f*g”, and makes him play baseball -just like Lonnie did to Will. And Neil also yells for William (Billy) to open his door, before hurting him. So I could see Lonnie doing that to Will in the past ...

We even have El see a red door- while in the void

Heck- in s2 , Dr owens said Will’s anniversary affect would make him remember tra*matic memories and OPEN his neurological flood GATES( and these openings to the upsidedown are also called GATES and DOORS)!

#el hopper #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #byler #will byers #mike wheeler #joyce byers #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #billly hargrove #jim hopper #dustin henderson #stranger things theory #stranger things #karen wheeler #neil hargrove #lonnie byers

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surrealsunday · 3 years ago

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So, not to sound dramatic but I’ve finished to read (and re-read) all of your fics and now I don’t know what to do with my life 🥲

to use Eliott’s words in Tempo: “you ruined me for everyone else”, you definitely set the bar, and I can only hope there’s more in store cause I’m sold for every version of Elu you’ll come up with.

Each AU is written so well, and I love that each version of Elu has different quirks, inside jokes, attitudes and pet-names, like Tempo!Eliott calls Lucas “a little shit” all the time while in Mood Tattoo he’s the “biggest fucking brat” and Eli is “Average”, in “Hollow Edge” Eliott’s always referred as Sassling or Princeling (oh can we talk about the part where Lucas called him by his name in bed and got no response, so he called him “Princeling” and Eliott’s head quickly snap to him? That moment was so important to me, I can’t even-) and don’t even let me start with Punzel, all their knowing subtle types of pout and doe-eye princess looks? AND THE NICKNAMES? Punzel, Babylu, Princess, Lu, Lu baby… I just wanted to hug him so tight, Punzel has been a rough patch to read for me cause Lucas was such a soft baby and didn’t absolutely deserve all those years of constantly heartbreak, yearning and miscommunication, I was like Chandler crying out loud “I JUST DON’T SEE WHY THOSE TWO CAN’T WORK THINGS OUT” over Ross and Rachel lol (does anyone here sometimes randomly think about the way Punzel!Eliott got the nerve to introduce his former boyfriend to Punzel!Lucas with “This is Gavin; Gavin, this is my Lu; and this is Yann, the guy who’s always trying to steal Lu from me” LIKE IT WAS SO CLEAR BUT THEY WERE SO BLIND, Istg I’m coming to collect all the years those two idiots took me off along with Idriss 😭😭)

Anyway, I need to spend some words for Mood Tattoo cause Mood!Lucas is one of my favorite now. It’s been interesting to read from an Eliott’s point of view, but that left me with quite some questions about Lucas’ attitude sometimes, like for example in the dinner scene with the crew: they’ve just spent a nice time together, then Manon asked Eliott how things were going at work and it all went down to shit, with Lucas starting to attack him over nothing till it led to them in Idriss’ bedroom; I was wondering if there was a real issue there that unnerved him or if he was just deliberately provoking Eliott to riled him up in order to go physical cause he was into the “hate sex” thing? And when he pushed Eliott in the on-call room and they’re kissing and then Eliott noticed Lucas’ smiling before he pushed him toward the bed was because he has already half in mind to blow him and spread the spunk all over Eliott’s top? (cause we all know Lucas’ such a little shit and got a thing for spreading spunk all over Eliott’s clothes just because lol). Mood!Lucas was such a charming enigma, it was impossible to not fall for him right there and then.

Anyway, I loved how we finally had an AU where Lucas met Eliott’s parents in one of your stories; it was so wholesome to see them all together, the dinner scene where Luca holds Eliott’s hand underneath the table is one of my fav Elu moments in every universes, I swear. There was so much tenderness, strenght, support and love in that act, I don’t know how you came up with that but hell, it was perfection. And what about Lucas randomly picking up a flower for him out of nowhere when they didn’t even talk about being an established couple? It was so precious, along with all those other small big details who made my heart squeeze in joy (“gonna bring it up when we’ll be 50” “our next vacation” “our plant” “there’s you” 🥺).

Jesus, this is gonna be embarrassing cause it shows how much I’m fixated with this fic but I have to tell it: the picture you made of the morning after, where Lucas is quietly sitting at the table eating his bowl of cereal, eyes stubbornly glued to the bowl after Eliott reached to lick a drop of milk from his chin, then his hissed “Stop it. We’re not going to have sex”… Idk why it hit me so much as a scene but he was so adorable in that moment, he’s a baby 😭

Another moment I hold dear to my heart is from Hollow Edge, precisely when they’re all in the bathtub and Eliott asks Lucas why he doesn’t talk about him in that way with his friends and Lucas scoffs and reply that of course he’s not gonna chat about their sexual lives, “it’s you. it’s different” 🥺🥺 this was so in Hollow Edge!Lucas character, being a cocky flirty shameless kid about everything and everyone all the time but being secretive about anything that involves Eliott cause he’s something he treasures in his heart and his heart only.

This is actually something I meant to ask you: your creative process about your stories. ‘Cause each Lucas is quite different from each others and from the original (although not too much; they’re always undeniably Lucas Lallemant), and each of them is written so well based on the main personality traits they have in every AU context (for example, Hollow!Edge Lucas is shameless, open and flirty in a way that Tempo!Lucas is not, just like Mood Tattoo!Lucas is smug, physical and provocative (“you’d better not waste my time, average; so two strokes or three? just wanna adjust my expectations”, he was such a confident smug brat, I LOVED HIM SO MUCH) in a very different way than Punzel!Lucas, and those main peculiar traits goes with the character for the rest of the fic in a perfect dosed way, like you read it and you’re like “of course he’s gonna act like this, this is totally him in this universe” (I hope it makes sense what I’m trying to say here); and it shows even in the media content, the captions or their replies are so in context.. you made a great work here, that’s why I was wondering how does it work for you the entire process, the way you structure the characters, the chapters, the storyline, the dialogues…? I’m sorry if it’s too much, I’m just very fascinated and struck in awe by the way your works are so flawless.

Honestly, I think I’d read anything from you at this point, even the groceries list; you know how to create magic with words, and I’m so grateful you shared your incredible amount of talent with us ♥️.

Ok first, this is such a lovely message it made me screech when I first read it. I can't tell how much I enjoyed reading this and hearing your thoughts ❤️❤️❤️.

Second, I apologize for how long it took me to respond. I actually HAD typed out a huge response weeks and weeks ago and then I somehow hit something on my keyboard and lost the whole response 😩????!!! I was a little bit upset about it and had to give myself a moment before re-doing the entire thing 😅. I wanted to do so with a fresh mind and when I had the enthusiasm to respond as you deserve (and yes... I am saving this as a draft 500 times as I go lmao). Putting this under a ‘read more’ because it’s gonna be loooooong...

I love so much that you read all my fics and got something different out of each of them. I worry a lot when it comes to my writing that because I do have a natural style, they’ll end up being too repetitive or similar, so hearing that each iteration of Eliott and Lucas comes across differently is really satisfying! And I LOVE coming up with the little quirks in each of their dynamics. That is the most fun. Their nicknames for one another and the deeper meaning behind each - as it suits their dynamic - is something that has always arisen naturally in the writing process and I enjoy so much. Like ‘Princeling’ and ‘Sassling’ etc. in Hollow Edge. As you were pointing out, those nicknames meant sooooo much to Eliott. Even more than they meant to Lucas. To Lucas it was a way of separating Eliott from his title - essentially taking the pomp and circumstance out of Eliott being a Prince - bringing him down to Lucas’s level so to speak. For Eliott though, those nicknames represented everything he thought he couldn’t have, that normalcy and intimacy with someone. That he could be MORE than just his title to someone, and that his title could became less about a need for deference than a reason to tease. Eliott loved that. While all their nicknames for one another in the fics have meaning, I’d say the nicknames for Eliott in Hollow Edge are the most significant (Punzel probably comes second place with ‘baby Lu’ vs. ‘Lu baby’ vs Princess, etc).

Punzel Lucas is definitely a soft bub 😌. And being in his POV in childhood on compounds that exponentially I think. I laughed so hard at this: “ I was like Chandler crying out loud “I JUST DON’T SEE WHY THOSE TWO CAN’T WORK THINGS OUT” over Ross and Rachel lol” 😂. I feel like it’s a very raw angst in Punzel because it’s a slow ache over time. Yes, there are more dramatic moments in the present that show the culmination of that angst, but I really wanted that one to have an overall ache (one that I feel like a lot of people could relate to - even if not directly associated with unrequited love). And that moment with Gavin... lmaooooo. They truly were so obvious to everyone but themselves. The reader (and Idriss) are definitely owed years of your lives. I snickered writing that whole flashback.

As for Mood Tattoo Lucas, he is for sure an enigma. I knew he would come across that way because we were in Eliott’s POV, but also because Lucas does a number of things that are a bit contradictory. It seems like his actions are nonsensical at times because they are. Not even he totally understands what he’s doing early on in the fic, and that was intentional (but a bit of a risk in writing). For Lucas in the early chapters, his primary goal was NOT to like Eliott as much as he might should circumstances have begun differently. The problem with that is that he IS attracted to Eliott (and that pisses him off endlessly) and there are those moments when Eliott shows those glimmers of being kind and gentle and ‘a good fucking person’ as Lucas would put it, when Lucas can’t help but feel a little something - butterflies in the stomach if you will. So most of Lucas’s time is spent trying very hard not to fall for Eliott and a lot of his actions are rooted in that desire, however misguided. He doesn’t quite let go of that until around the time they start having some heart-to-hearts (about Lucas’s mom, Eliott’s diagnosis) and then go away together.

While there are times Lucas baits Eliott, that moment before they hook up in Idriss’s room (RIP Idriss 💀) isn’t so much Lucas baiting Eliott into a fight/ hookup. It’s a moment in the fic I may not have gotten across what I meant to as effectively as I would have liked. But essentially, Lucas does operate in extremes with Eliott in those early stages and can swing from hate to like to lust and back again pretty quickly. And in that moment of what seems to be an innocuous conversation between the friends, Lucas does swing pretty quickly to genuine annoyance. He is frustrated with the way Eliott downplays himself - I would say that’s actually a bit of a trigger for Lucas (and comes with his own baggage). Eliott throughout that fic has a habit of basically apologizing for who he is (I think it goes hand-in-hand with anxiety and mental illness a lot of the time which is why I had made that a part of Eliott’s personality). He rarely will own the fact that he’s good at what he does (sidenote: very intentionally in the fic, the few times he does is when he’s being instigated by Lucas or in an argument with him). This frustrates Lucas endlessly as Lucas is so naturally underestimated (and that knowledge and fear was part of his ‘relationship’ with Moreau). And here is someone like Eliott - who in Lucas’s eyes has it all - and refuses to enjoy that. And of course, Lucas very quickly jumps to the assumption that Eliott is intentionally bringing up Moreau again, which only compounds his annoyance (though I would say there is some fear mixed in there too). Eliott for his part is just as thrown as the reader is supposed to be. This all comes from a place of them not fully understanding one another yet - as so many of the early arguments do. And then... as is their dynamic in Mood Tattoo, the intensity of emotion that comes with any of their arguments very easily translates to intensity in a totally different - but maybe not actually dissimilar - way 😏😂.

Oh and Lucas smiling at that moment in the on-call room in Mood Tattoo was a glimpse of genuine Lucas. 🥺. Eliott starts to get that more and more as the fic goes on but he doesn’t grasp it right then. Basically it’s Lucas truly happy to be kissing Eliott, letting himself have that moment... it’s him enjoying himself. And part of that is that despite his outward anger at Eliott for not taking the opportunity for the surgery with Moreau, Lucas is actually very moved by Eliott insisting that is his choice. Don’t get him wrong, Lucas does think it’s a stupid fucking choice 😆, but the thought that Eliott made that choice because of - if not for Lucas is a big deal. In Lucas’s brain it translates (quite rightly) to him saying ‘You should think of yourself and your career first’ and Eliott responding by just being a good person who operates with a moral guidepost and cares about what Lucas thinks (without even knowing the full story about Moreau). So... Lucas wanted to kiss his face off. Eliott just doesn’t get that until Lucas literally does it.

The dinner/ holding Eliott’s hand scene in Mood Tattoo is one of my favourites. I’m glad you loved it too. I got misty eyed writing it and picturing that moment actually. And omg I love the image of that morning with Eliott wiping the milk off Lucas’s face too. They were being hella cute that morning I agree. It was fun to allow them a dynamic that was a little more light-hearted and flirty. There was so much intensity between them it was fun just to let them have fun. And mixing a little bit of the domestic with the sexy is always the best in my books. I think all those more subtle moments (like the daisy too) are really what give the relationship layers and make it the most genuine and believable. I’m so glad you noticed them!

I so agree about Hollow Edge Lucas too... he’s the most closed off and prickly and cocky... except when it comes to Eliott. With Eliott everything is different, and he’s constantly amazed when Eliott is surprised by that. The whole ‘because it’s you’ thing was repeated a few times in the writing process before I fully realized it and then implemented it as their ‘thing’. It was almost like they did that naturally and it took me longer to realize.

And on that note, your question about my creative process is so well written and interesting. I will do the best I can to explain how I develop a story and how it works - but I am also extremely chaotic with my writing so I apologize in advance 😅. In each of the stories I look at it is the same Eliott and Lucas from the show... but if they existed in those universes. I will often remind myself of their traits from the show and then consider how they might come across given the circumstances of the particular universe I am writing. For example, in the show Lucas really can be the most soft and vulnerable, but I fucking love that he has a surprising confidence we didn’t see in other iterations of the Isak character. Like him approaching Eliott first... or asking Eliott how he would draw him. Those sorts of things I like to keep in mind. So in every universe I do give Lucas that cocky confidence but it comes across differently depending on the context. In Hollow Edge his confidence is his defense - it’s literally what he needed to survive and so it’s much more bold and in your face (and rooted in a desire to protect and defend - himself and others). The vulnerability is what comes later. In Punzel, he’s known Eliott for so long that Eliott got to know Lucas before Lucas really came into himself as a teen and then adult. So Lucas’s confidence in that one becomes more of him being a bit of a spoiled brat and knowing that Eliott will do anything for him. In Mood Tattoo the confidence was to come across a lot more harshly because we were in Eliott’s pov and that’s how Eliott saw him... and then slowly that unravels, and while Lucas remains quite prickly, you start to see the holes in that confidence.

Same idea for Eliott when it comes to his vulnerabilities. With him I often look at how his fears and anxiety will affect his personality in each universe. So in Hollow Edge he was incredibly sheltered, so we a lot more of that softness and insecurity from the very beginning. Whereas in something like Mood Tattoo it’s not believable that Eliott would make it as far as he does in his career without having an ability to manipulate his own fears and anxieties in a way that works for him (i.e. not becoming a cold, emotionally removed surgeon). And in Punzel from the beginning he has Lucas’s support in a way he obviously didn’t in canon as they didn’t meet until later, so I gave a lot of consideration to how that would change Eliott (and help in many ways) when it came to accepting his mental illness.

When it comes to how I actually go about planning and writing a story, that is a bit all over the place. To be honest, a lot of it is just daydreaming. I usually come up with an idea and often it’s just a scene and premise. And then as I think about it more and more, little details will trickle in and colour the overall picture. For example, I’d been thinking about Hollow Edge for a while before I ever came up with the whole Princess Bride connection. I was just driving and thinking about what nickname Lucas might refer to Eliott by... which made me think of the ‘buttercup’ line... which made me think of Princess Bride... which then shaped the entire fic. I really can’t explain how my brain goes about working those things out but it’s rarely in an organized or controlled fashion. I usually do try to form an outline for the fic - i.e. major events and when they might happen - but I wholeheartedly admit that I end up writing and never looking at the outline and not at all doing what I originally intended. This is often because, as I like to say, the characters have minds of their own. Like even when I’m writing a scene I’ll be thinking ‘ok, the point of the scene is to get them to do x, y, and z.’ But then the two start talking in the scene and it goes in a totally different direction and I just let them roll with it because that always ends up feeling the most natural. That’s also why I don’t plan out dialogue. I often know the vibe or feeling I’m trying to get across and then I just start typing and see what they say. So the banter and jokes and arguments all come very naturally as I write. Or at least I think they feel very natural and authentic - like they might actually talk. I think it’s probably obvious in moments too that I just let them banter - like the oompa loompa thing in Punzel? Lmao. Obviously not planned. I was just letting them be cute and have their little ‘no one can pop their bubble’ way of speaking and that’s where it ended up.

And of course I have a pretty intense editing process. And usually if something isn’t reading or sounding right, I catch it when I’m editing and I will adjust. It’s really important to me that you feel in the moment with them as you read the dialogue. I feel like more planned out dialogue can feel very stilted - even if it’s written beautifully. As an example, I was recently reading Where the Crawdad’s Sing which had been raved about for years. And it is very beautifully written don’t get me wrong, but my god there were moment’s when I was reading dialogue and said out loud, ‘No one talks like this’. So for me, especially when it comes to characters we’ve seen interact so beautifully and naturally on screen, with so much chemistry, the dialogue really has to be right and not super ‘crafted’ by me. One of my main goals when writing was to have it all read as ‘easy’. I love when I’m reading a story and it’s just so fun to read. And even in the more difficult and angsty moments I didn’t want any of it to read like a chore. So that thought guides most of my writing.

A big thing that also helps I think (for me in particular I mean) is that I write the whole story before ever posting a chapter. Because of the way I write quite chaotically, I have to be able to go back and edit things in earlier chapters based on things that might have come up later and randomly later in the story. Or when it comes to particular metaphors that run throughout the story or visuals I want to remain consistent, it’s very helpful for me to be able to go back and scrutinize earlier chapters. Also I will often intentionally repeat bits of dialogue later in different context as callbacks to earlier moments, and little things like that often don’t occur to me until I’m writing that later chapter, so having the ability to go back and make those moments work as parallels is super helpful.

I will say that in the end I truly never know how my stories come together 😬😂. I doubt their ability to incredibly often as I write. I take on these huge ideas and they get bigger and bigger as I write and it often seems incredibly overwhelming but I sort of trust the process (and often am motivated just to get it done so I can share it) and somehow in the end it becomes a fully formed story.

Anyways, I should stop rambling because this really is a full-on essay now (you see how my stories get to be so long!). Your comments were so interesting though so I really wanted to give them the attention they deserved. Thank you again and again for taking the time to write this message to me. I apologize again for taking so long to reply. If there is anything that was unclear or I didn’t answer, please let me know. I am sending you all the hugs and just hope you know that comments like this are really why I write and why it is such a joy for me.

Thank you thank you and HUGS! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

#writing things #fanfic things #punzel fic #hollow edge fic #mood tattoo fic

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solesommerso · 2 years ago

Text

“You know my brother?” | Jim Street x Sean Hotchner

~ the content below is dark/graphic, if violence or any of the other warnings bother you please click away

Crossover Fic Between Swat/Criminal Minds

posted to my Ao3 here

Background: in the universe that Hondo and Derek Morgan are the same people, set season 1 swat, the time lines a bit funky but Streets 24 while Sean’s 25. I didn’t add Sean’s drug problem or what happened in New York as it’s annoying to work around. Btw I know Hotchs family isn’t from California but they moved there after Hotch moved out in this

Summary: what happens when someone from Streets past makes a reappearance and things get messy

Authors note: I refer to Hondo as Morgan/Derek/Hondo in this but it’s all the same person. Buck is in this (he’s abusive and homophobic so be warned) tags of people who encouraged this: @district447 @crystal-is-obsessed

Warnings:unwilling drug use, implied sexual assault, references to abuse, hospitals, swearing, crying, panic attacks, homophobia, violence, use of the f slur, blood/gore, showering together

Streets feet halt as he sees Sean Hotchner picture on the board of the briefing room. He hasn't seen Sean in years, many years, he can't believe he has beard now? God. Street always hated Sean with facial hair and while none of that matters now- what does matter is why Sean's picture is up, is he in trouble? Oh god is he hurt?

"Wha- what- uh-." He can't seem to get the words out as his brain floods with every single bad scenario that Sean could be stuck in right now. He has to be alive. He has to be okay. Street won't be able to function if Sean's not okay.

"Spit it out Junior." Luca jokes but Street can't even fake laugh. He has so much dread twisted in his gut that he feels nauseous.

"What- what's Sean got to do with this?" He slips the words out in a much too quiet voice for it to be anywhere close to his normal tone.

"You know Sean?" Hondo questions and Street nods. He knows Sean really well, and Sean knows Street well, too well. He knows every dark secret Streets desperately keeps up at his chest.

"How exactly do you know him?" Deacon asks with a raised brow and Street swallows. They were a bit more than friends but so much happened that Street knows he can't say that. He hasn't even told the team he likes guys.

He hadn't really considered his sexuality before Sean though. He was too busy being bounced from foster home to foster home, barely scraping by in school, spending all his time skateboarding and working minimum wage jobs. Then he met Sean Hotchner. A taller, a year older, blonde haired, very funny, senior, that was quick at taking Street under his wing when Sean's family up and moved to California. Something about his brother being gone for so long that they didn't need such a big house.

However their new house was far from a good one. Street spent many nights cleaning the wounds on Sean's skin, Sean always repaid the favor when Street was seen as the scrawny kid in whatever group home he was in. They'd spend hours in that shady run down park, Sean falling on his ass every time he tried to stand on Streets skateboard, Street sitting across Sean's lap even if he knew it was risky, taking turns digging through the homemade first aid kit to help patch up the other, the both of them not sneaking home til it was well past dark and only had streetlights to guide their ways back.

They had stayed in that "more than friends" space for a very long time. 17-22 for Street, then it came crumbling, more so crashing, down, when Buck had found out that Sean was more than just a study partner. As much as Buck might pass himself as a good person, Street knows the truth.

He knows how bitter and detached Buck becomes when he sees something he doesn't like, the hits thrown, words cursed, glasses of whiskey downed, tears shed by Street, bruises covered for days on end. It's the whole reason him and Sean ended things. Buck had figured out Street was living with Sean in a shitty studio apartment so he showed up one day to "set things straight".

That day will forever be engrained into Streets memory. He can pin point how badly his ribs ached but more importantly, the look on Sean's face when Street had submitted to Buck and allowed Buck to drag him out of the apartment. Sean didn't look angry at Street or even upset with him, he looked heartbroken, anguished, like he was in more physical pain then the already constant throbbing Buck caused. Street watched with a hand on the back of his shirt collar and a silent plead for Sean. He got the same plea back, the non verbal 'I love you and I'm sorry'.

They had called a week later, Street having to go to a pay phone as Buck threatened to track his calls. Street had just agreed to take up the Swat offer Buck gave out for Street to "forgive and forget" about what had happened, Sean told him he was going to New York for a bit. They gave each other a tear filled I love you before hanging up.

Street can't fathom talking to Sean again, seeing him, having him in his arms, holding him. It makes him want to sob. He craves Sean and never got over it, it's only been two years but most people move on by now. Street just can't. Not when him and Sean still love each other, or Street still loves him. Maybe Sean got a new boyfriend or a girlfriend to cover up that he's gay.

They've both done that at least once, gone out with girls to hide who they are. Street is bisexual so he can pretend that he's just straight but he knows Sean's fully gay and has a harder time. Sean's parents were never the most supportive, he's not sure about his brother, Aaron if Street remembers correctly, he never got a lot about him. Just that Aaron knew nothing about Sean and didn't make a big effort to change that, there was anger there, something Street always tried to get Sean to open up about but never got far.

"You know my brother?" A dark haired man asks. He's in a suit and tie, he looks nothing like Sean does, not even close. However he isn't far fetched from how Sean described Aaron the few times Street did get information about the older brother.

"You're Aaron?" The team is surrounded them now and some other people, Street doesn't recognize any of them. They all stare heavily.

"Yeah, how do you know Sean?" Aaron's arms go across his chest in a way that's so similar to Sean it almost has Street smiling. Almost.

"Old friends." Aaron's jaw clenches and Street furrows his brows before looking over to Derek, he's busy staring at Aaron intently.

"Friends? What type of friends?" There's venom stuck in the words and Street steps backwards. Is he that homophobic? Did Sean finally come out to him? Shit is that what happened, is Sean in the hospital because his deranged older brother beat him?

"Just- j- just friends from back in high school. Now please tell me what's going on?" There's a strong shake to Streets words that he chooses to ignore.

"You guys didn't use together?" Streets mouth falls open. How dare-

"Y'know your brother was so right about you, you really know nothing about him don't you? He's clean and has been since he was sixteen. And even then- he smoked weed! God have you even talked to him since he was in high school? I always gave you the benefit of the doubt because how can I judge someone I've never met but- but I gave you way too much credit didn't I? Whatever Sean is stuck in, he's not using again and he doesn't deserve to be treated badly by his brother." Street lets the rage simmer down after his rant, Aaron looks shocked to be snapped at and there's tension still high in the air.

"Street." Tan says placing a gentle hand on Streets bicep that Street allows even if he really wants to keep yelling at Aaron.

"Why are you even here right now? Sean would never call you if something happened so what the hell are you doing here?" He points his eye contact into Aaron's surprised expression. He burns as many holes in that stupid expression as he can.

"Sean- Sean would call me if something was wrong." Oh Please.

"Why would he call you? You're never around and you know nothing about him. Christ I've known Sean since I was seventeen and have never even seen a picture of you." Derek comes to Hotchs side with a hand on his shoulder that makes Streets blood boil a bit more.

"Now again, tell me what the hells going on?! If you did something to Sean I swear to god I will bury you six feet down- he is the one person that I know will always be there and if you hurt him at all-." Morgan stops him.

"He's missing, Sean's missing Street. He didn't call Hotch or anyone, his boss called Hotch asking if he's seen Sean." Street almost throws up on the spot. He literally feels the vomit raise in his throat but he swallows it back to stare deathly still at Morgan, this can't be happening. Not Sean. God not Sean, not him, anyone but him, please someone tell Street it's not real.

"N- no- no- Sean's smarter than that- he- he wouldn't just let someone take him. That's not- he carry's a knife and can fight- he's not- no. No." It's a lie, this has to be some fucked up dream he's stuck in.

"Street, someone drove away with him in the back of their car, there's a video." Streets knees get weak at Chris's words. Everything's blurry, his heart rates so high, he can't breathe and he feels like screaming. Like begging for Sean. Crying til Sean comes and wraps his protective arms around Street, he knows Sean would, they'd lay up on the couch just the same as before and fall asleep pressed as closely as they can get.

"Street? Hey look at me, breathe kid." He pushes away from Hondos hands on his shoulders. No he can't breathe, he can't even think as his back hits against a wall and Street just lets himself slide down it.

Nothings okay and not having Sean here makes everything so much worse. He hasn't had a panic attack this bad since him and Sean were living together, Sean would always be there to say those way too sweet and cheesy things that always made Street smile. They'd drink stupid "anxiety reducing" tea and Sean would joke that he should be a therapist with how many panic attacks he's talked Street through.

And oh god— there's no way to tell if Sean's alive right now. There's nothing to indicate where Sean is or what those people are doing to him. Street doesn't have all the details but maybe he does- what if a video of Sean getting taken is all they have? What if Street never gets to see him again? Hold him again? Call him-

- he fumbles with his phone while pulling up where he has Sean's number saved, it's in his notes and not an actual contact. He still doesn't trust to keep it as a contact and told Sean that, it's why Street always answers random numbers and he assumes Sean would do the same. They made a decision to call from pay phones only. Maybe he'll answer?

"Street breathe, just keep breathing." He needs to get himself to a pay phone. He stumbles up to his feet and looks for his keys only to see them in Hondos back pocket.

"No." He reaches but gets stopped.

"Give me my keys." There's still tear tracks on his cheeks but Street needs to get out of here.

"No you are not going to search for him, we do this the correct and legal way." What? Streets not about to go out man hunting for Sean, not yet at least.

"I need to go somewhere, give me my keys." He's boarding on whining and knows Sean would poke fun about it.

"You go with us if you need to go somewhere." Street still doesn't know who half of the people in this room are.

"Take me to a phone booth." Derek quirks a brow.

"A phone booth?" Street groans and goes for his keys again.

"Yes a phone booth, it's how me and Sean talked." Only ever three times but still, the most recent form of communication.

"Huh like Maeve." Street looks over to the blonde girl talking, who is she? To both the girl she mentioned and her herself, who?

"Who's Maeve?" A scrawny guy pipes up with a fidget of his spindly fingers.

"Oh she was my girlfriend that I'd only communicate with by pay phone because she was getting stalked. It actually ended really tragically because she died in front of me- but we'd talk on a pay phone every Sunday. I can go with you and drive you if you want."

"Who the fuck are you?" Street didn't mean to be so mean but seriously- who's this guy?

"Oh I'm Dr. Spencer Reid." Street blinks.

"I'm not calling you that but I will take you up on that offer, what type of car do you drive? Something fast?" Spencer winces a bit.

"Well- kinda, an suv and I'm kind of a bad driver so we should really take someone with us." You've gotta be fucking kidding.

"Give me the keys Reid." Spencer's lips form a tight line as he shakes his head to Streets extended hand.

"What do you mean no? You just said you were a shit driver now give me the keys, I can get us there in no time flat!" Street and Sean went on plenty of joy rides around California for him to locate a pay phone quickly.

"I'll drive you." Who the hell is that?

"Who are you? Actually wait- who are half of you? You're just kinda here and look a bit like lost puppies so one of you explain." Street rubs a hand at his mouth, todays such a mind fuck.

"And who are you?" The oldest of the group snaps back.

"Street." A dark haired girl chuckles and Street quickly glares over his shoulder at her.

"Sorry- sorry, just, Sean and Street, S and S."

"Okay, Reid- Spencer- Doctor- whatever you want to be called, let's go to that damn phone booth." Streets walking out before he can meet any of the other questionable people standing in that room with his team who don't seem at all bothered by having them around.

"Damn it!" Street hangs up the pay phone for the third time. This shit isn't working and he needs it to, he needs to hear Sean's voice and know he's okay.

"He's not the best at answering calls." Street angrily shoves two more quarters into the machine while staring at Aaron in annoyance.

"He answers mine." He's actually never missed a single call from Street since the day they met.

"Come on Sean, pick up for me. Please." Street begs quietly, listening to the phone ring all the way to dial tone. He swears he's about to cry again, he can't do this, he can't go back to the station and work this like it's a normal case. It's not, not with Sean involved.

"Sean I can't do this just pick up. I can't lose you, not like this." Streets so close to just breaking down in this phone booth only there's an answer. Finally.

"Sean? Hello? Talk to me." Some muffled sounds of someone walking before a ragged breath.

"Street?" Relief floods Streets system as he nods against the phone. Derek and Hotch pick up on the answering of the phone as they instantly call that tech girl they know.

"Where are you? Are you hurt? Nobody can find you." A sniffle from Sean and Street swallows the spit in the back of his throat.

"I- I don't know, Street I don't know- they- I- I think they gave me something- I don't know where I am." Sean cries lowly and Street genuinely has to bite on his lip to not scream at someone to help them immediately, he can’t scream when he’s supposed to be the one helping Sean, fighting out what to do to get him away from wherever he’s at, Street needs to think.

"It's okay, just tell me what you see. Can you see a street sign?" A short pause then a few whimpers, sufficiently snapping Streets heart into a million pieces.

"No- no I see nothing, I'm in an alley- I don't- I'm bleeding! Street I'm bleeding! Help!" James shoots his eyes up to the sky as he thinks of what the hell he should do right now, he wants to run and search for Sean but knows that won't be any good without knowing more or-

"Street we know where he is, we're going now stay on the phone." Derek and Hotch call before they're dashing into the suv and Street can give a short sigh.

"Helps coming now Sean, just keep talking to me. Where are you bleeding from?" Street slumps his back into the wall of the phone booth, practically counting the seconds to when he'll be able to see Sean be okay again.

"It's- my- my lip. My lip is split. I miss you so much- I never stopped missing you. Are you coming?" The short sigh of relief Street let out at Sean only having a split lip gets cut short as Street chokes on his breath at the last words.

"I miss you so much Sean, so much. I'm not on my way right now but I'll see you in the hospital. I have to keep you on the phone." A small whine passes through Sean's lips that has Street leaning his forehead onto the metal of the actual phone machine.

"I want you to be here, I just- just wanna see you again Jamie." God there's that old nickname that use to piss Street off so much but has him clutching the phone white knuckled right now.

"You will I promise, you just have to stay where you are so help can find you. I'll see you soon." Street almost tells Sean that he loves him but refrains, he can't.

"Nothings okay without you- I'm not- not okay without you- I miss you too much and- and have almost called you so many times." Street feels the hot tears well in his eyes that he urges away, nows not the time.

"I almost call you every time I walk past a phone booth, I miss you all the time. Every damn day Sean." Streets really betting that nobody is listening to this conversation as his voice breaks on basically every word.

"I'm so tired Jamie, I wish you were here so I could go to sleep- like we would on the couch when you'd mess with my hair." Street chuckles wetly into the phone.

"Yeah? You sure you don't just miss me because I'd play with your hair." Sean grunts at it.

"No I miss you cause I love you.- Aaron? What are you? Where- wait- beep-." Street stands there breathing into the disconnected phone for way too long.

Sean still loves him, he said it, confirmed it, it has Streets whole body feeling like it's floating. Like he's not really standing there, he's watching himself stand stone still in that phone booth just holding the phone up. He should move- go to the hospital and see Sean- call Derek or someone to come get him or do anything but just stand there.

"Street, come on!" Oh Derek's pulling up in a charger and calling Street inside, he stumbles to hang the phone up a moment but makes his way to the passenger seat.

"Kid he's fine, Hotch is with him." Street nods at Derek but returns to the blank stare he was doing through the window. Logically he knows Sean is perfectly fine aside from maybe some mental trauma and a few bruises, he's in a hospital so if something worse was to come up they could treat it, Sean has people there with him that will advocate for him if somethings not right, he's going to be okay.

"So- you and Sean weren't just friends were you?" Chris pipes up from the backseat and Street shifts to lean against the car door more. He's not in the mood to talk in general but definitely not about this.

Buck made it pretty clear that if Street was to see Sean again he'd be losing his job and getting the shit kicked out of him.

"Oh totally, you can see it in his body language. See how he shifted away from you when you asked the question, it's his body's way of defense and-." Streets a little thankful a glare from Derek made Reid stop talking. He knows Spencer's right, it's written all over his body language that him and Sean are far more than friends, Streets not sure how to change that though. Not entirely at least.

"Why don't we stop picking apart what Street and Sean were and just focus on the positives, Sean's safe and Hotch can stop pacing so much." Hondo gives a smile over to Street that he has no energy to return. His minds filled with images of what Sean and him were, what they could be again if they stopped living in fear.

Streets brain decides to focus on this one specific memory, a time from before anything tainted his and Sean's relationship. It must've been fall since Street can picture that specific stripped sweater Sean lived in, thick sleeves falling past his hands, coffee brown and beige strips going horizontally across the fabric, Street would bet money it was actually from the woman's section but would never tell Sean that. He'd wear the sweater so much it got small holes in the cuffs from the fidgeting he does when nervous. Street can't pull his mind away from the nights they'd cuddle up on the couch and Street could poke his fingers through the holes while listening to Sean ramble passionately about something. Always a different topic but always spoken like it was the second most important thing in the world, Sean always assured James that he was the most important, no matter how cheesy it was.

"They're flushing the drugs out of his system, looks like someone slipped something in his coffee and then beat him. Nothings broken and there's no major damage but he's gonna need to ice his ribs for a bit." Aaron speaks first when Street, Derek, Chris and Reid get to the hospitals waiting room. Streets body jitters with nerves, he wonders if Sean said anything to Hotch while he was in the ambulance, maybe the whole team was listening to their conversation and Street had no idea, this could be a bad idea. They could both be in danger if Street walks into that hospital room.

Yet his feet carry him behind Hotch, all the way to Sean's doorway. His chest goes tight when his eyes filter over Sean's figure. He's so pale, deathly white, there's purple bruises trailing up his arms, his eyes are closed softly though and Street can see his chest rise and fall evenly. He's okay. Thank god he's okay.

"You just gonna stand there kid." Hondo laughs and Street sputters before just deciding to walk into the cold room. It smells of disinfectant and has a rhythmic beeping from Sean's monitors but it's the closest Streets been to Sean in years.

"Hey Jamie." Sean smiles before cracking his eyes open to tilt his head to where Streets sitting beside his bed.

"You're an idiot Sean Hotchner." Street completely brushes past the tears on his face to instead laugh at Sean's wide eyed expression, so similar to Hotch's.

"Wow you full name me when I'm laid up in a hospital bed." Sean shakes his head as Street wipes the side of his face against his shoulder with a laugh.

"If you ever scare me like that I'll do more then full name you. Seriously Sean I- I was so worried." Street drops the faint smile he had on his face to bite down on his bottom lip, he's not about to sob when Sean's the one who got drugged and ended up in a hospital bed. He's not that pathetic.

"Hey Jamie, don't look at me like that. I'm okay, just some scrapes and bruises." Sean reaches his hand to hold and while Street instantly squeezes on, he pulls away and glances to Aaron standing by the door.

Sean's eyes have an understanding to them as he lets go then smooths out the blanket on his thigh. Street lets his hand linger on the bed a moment, he wants to grab Sean's hand so bad, wants to hold him even if it's just one of their fingers interlocked. But he can't and they both know why. There's a risk to Street being here in the first place, Sean's father or Buck could show up at any moment.

"Hey uh- I'm gonna go grab some food from the vending machine, either of you need anything?" Derek stands from the seat he's been in beside the window to the hallway, Street and Sean shake their heads, watching as Hondo pulls Hotch in the opposite direction. Leaving the pair alone, totally on purpose if Street knows Derek at all.

"You think he knows?" Sean stifles back a grin as Street instantly takes his hand.

"Yeah. I don't think your brother does though and besides, it's kind of hard to pick a fight with someone who's in a hospital bed already." Sean chuckles dryly with a roll of his eyes.

"Haha I get it, I'm an idiot. But hey- seriously, Aaron can't know. I'm still not sure what he thinks about all that type of stuff." Street soothes his thumb over Sean's red knuckles with a hum.

"I never told Derek but he kinda figured it out. I'd never say anything. You're the idiot remember?" Street grins before Sean's free hand is extending to wrap around the back of Streets head and pull him in. There's a short pause where they both stare at each other, nervous and excitement all the same as the first time they kissed, then Street pushes his lips onto Sean's and holds them there. Letting Sean shift him halfway onto to the bed, Street having to put his hand down onto the mattress by Sean's hip to support himself from toppling over.

"I hate that stupid beard." Street leans his forehead onto Sean's with a chuckle when they part.

"You're an asshole." Street yelps slightly when Sean lets go of his hand to instead drag him onto his chest, Streets legs partly off the bed and partly on top of Sean's, his head falling onto Sean's chest and arms wrapping around Sean's middle.

"I thought Aaron wasn't supposed to know? They'll be back soon. They can't possibly still be getting snacks at the vending machine." Street rolls his head til he can hear Sean's steady heart beat through his chest.

"Shhh just let me enjoy this, he can fight with me later if that's what he wants." Sean tips his head enough to press a kiss to Streets forehead before they both settle in silence. The beeping and background noise of the busy hospital being the only thing surrounding them.

Street gets woken up by Sean's hand tracing lines on his back and murmurs from around them, he groans as he hides his face away from the bright lights into Sean's chest.

"Morning." Chris?

"You've been asleep a few hours now." Both teams are fully in the room, even Hotch, Street quickly peers up to Sean who doesn't look nervous about anything, he gives a raise of his eyebrows to Street to convey that everything's fine. Street nods but still climbs off of Sean's bed to sit in the empty chair beside it.

"Okay what was that?" Luca laughs lightly next to- Emily? If Street remembers hearing someone call her that.

"What?" He reaches to rub the sleep out of his eyes and Luca shakes his head.

"The conversation you just had without a word." Street knows he's still half awake but Luca has to be joking right?

"Technically they just read each other's body language but they seem to do it easier than someone would with a person they just met. They read each other kind of like a married couple would be, or even just a dating one, it really depends because it can-" Reid gives a smile to Sean and Street from beside Hondo who puts a stop to the rambling starting.

"Thank you for pointing that out Reid." Sean rubs at the bridge of his nose while stifling back a slightly annoyed face that Streets seen a million times. He can't really blame Sean though, Spencer talks a whole lot and he's very socially aware of when to stop.

"I just don't get it, you know Derek and the rest of the team are fine with me, why not just say something?" Chris shifts in her seat to be faced more towards Street.

"Not everyone is." Sean shares a side glance with Street and Street can't help but let his eyes travel to where Aaron is standing.

"Wait, Sean, did you think I'd have a problem with you liking guys?" Sean swallows when Hotch steps off from the wall.

"I could never get a read on you." Sean admits quietly, Aaron's face instantly falls before he's going to drag Sean into a tight hug. Sean gives a 'oof' at the weight but reciprocates it quickly.

"I would never care about that type of stuff, never." Aaron assures firmly.

"Mom and dad were never the most accepting and I just didn't know where you stood. It's not like we talk about that type of stuff anyways." Sean talks more towards the blanket on his lap then to his brother standing at his bedside.

"Sean I'd never think anything like mom and dad, if you're happy then I'm happy." Hotch smiles softly when Sean nods. Street about to grab Sean's hand again only his phone buzzing interrupts it.

Buck: come outside. Now.

"Jamie? Everything okay?" Street puts on his best fake smile he can and looks up to Sean.

"Yeah, just gotta go do something real quick." A flash of realization comes across Sean's face as he grabs hold of Streets wrist, his jaws clenched, eyes filled with worry he's trying to cover and a thick swallow bobs his Adam's apple to prove it.

"I'll be back." Street straightens his back in attempts to look sure of himself.

"Street." Sean says the word like a warning and James licks his lips to not break right then and there. He's about to get into probably the worst fight of his life, Sean knows it, Street knows it, but the team can't. Who knows if he'll even be working with them after this, it might be the last time he sees them so he can't worry about them right now. Just Sean and him, the person he loves, person he's going to protect to the grave.

"Take my jacket." Street furrows his brows while glancing to the bag of personal items on the counter beside Chris. Sean's leather jacket sits untouched and Street quickly strips his own off to get Sean's on, it's a bit baggier, more worn down, but there's something in the pocket that definitely would've gotten removed had the hospital staff gone through it.

"I love you." Street presses a kiss to Sean's lips and feels how Sean leans into it, begging it not to end, worried for his lover, scared for what hell he's walking into with no backup.

"Don't be stupid. I love you too." 'Don't be stupid' said before every fight either has gotten into, a telltale sign something bad is about to happen, coined early on in their relationship when Sean had a liking to beating up kids who picked on Street. James smirks when he pulls away.

"I won't." Street needs to leave now, it's been long enough of knowing Bucks waiting for him, he's not too sure how much longer Bucks willing to perch out and not just tear through this hospital room like a wild animal.

Street looks at his team for what feels like the last time before he walks out yo the hallway. Twenty squad and the fbi team seem off-put, worried maybe, more so confused and while Street knows Sean won't give up a word, he wishes he was there to help the blow over. Street can't dwell on the little ins and outs of peoples feelings or even the quirks still present from when Sean and Street were younger, he has to be on edge now.

More so aggressive. James has never had a particular problem with becoming physical in the name of people he cares about but that all gets tricky when he also cared about the person he's fighting. Cared being the difference, Buck use to be someone Street valued and looked up to as a kid, then he hit fourteen and started to kiss boys. Everything changed after Buck caught James and Liam making out behind the baseball fields, Buck was no longer a person to be seen as a hero, instead he was feared.

Back then Street didn’t put any thought into who he was kissing, just some guy from down the road and maybe a girl from math class. It never raised any questions in his head, it seemed so natural to him. Then Buck came in to explain that it’s not normal and it’s wrong, Street followed that thinking for a few years, til Sean came around and he could finally put a label on his sexuality. Buck definitely didn’t like that though

Bucks smarter than his father ever was and Street takes that into account when he stalks over to Bucks dirty pick up truck. The older man is red as fire, seconds from snapping already, his hands grip the steering wheel so hard it'll leave indents on the leather, his leg bounces restlessly while Street slides himself nice and slow into the passenger seat. Acting calm usually works in his favor, or it has in the past.

It's been two years though and now everything feels different. Streets older sure but he's also a trained Swat officer, he no longer depends on the mercy of Bucks mind to get him out of a situation, Street can hit back just as hard. He also has a gun on his hip but that'll surely be taken away before anything has the chance to begin, Buck won't be looking for the pocket knife in Sean's jacket pocket though.

"I thought we had a deal." Bucks speeding down the highway as he sneers to Street.

"I don't need to do anything you tell me anymore." At the beginning Street really was terrified of losing Swat to Buck and while that's still a possibility, seeing Derek not freak out about Sean gives him some peace of mind. There's still that itch of Morgan is maybe in on what's about to go down, Street can't be certain, however he leans into the 'glass half full' mindset and assumes Bucks the only threat right now.

"Yes you do damnit! I will always be in charge of you boy!" Street clenches his teeth together as Buck reaches a hand in his hair with a yank to slam his head into the dashboard. It hurts, no shit, but Streets not bleeding yet.

"You are going to go back to working patrol and leave that faggot in the past!" Buck slams the meat of his palm onto the steering wheel and swerves into the backroads that Street knows lead to Bucks house.

"Don't call him that." Streets not going to go willing nor back down, not this time around.

"I will call him whatever I damn well please! He ruined you and you still go running back to him!" Street feels his blood boil but refrains from throwing any punches yet. Not in a moving car and not when it's so early into this whole endeavor.

"He did nothing to me, you ruined me, you made me be someone I'm not-!" Street can't finish his thought as Bucks veering the trucks direction to pull over then wrap his hand around Streets throat tightly. Street gasps as he hits his hands against Bucks arm in attempts to get the older man to let go, it does nothing but make Buck grind his teeth harder, Streets vision is starting to go blurry at the edges before Buck let's go.

Street’s been choked many times and a few times by Buck but it's never gotten to the point that he thought he'd actually pass out. It's always been for a split second to get a point across or while they were mid fighting, not so early on in an argument. Street rubs his hand at his surely bruised throat while avoiding Bucks eyes to try and at least catch his breath before this continues.

"You listen to me Jim, you are not gay and you will not see that boy again. He's a bad influence on you, you're in swat now, you can't go out making stupid decisions all for a scumbag that'll leave you in the end." Street still doesn't look at Buck, instead willing his tears back, he's heard this all before but it's usually a yell, a scream as glasses get thrown, not this firm and serious.

"I love him." It's all James can think to say, it's the truth. He's been in love with Sean Hotchner since they met in the schools detention room on a Wednesday afternoon.

"Oh Jimmy, you can't love another boy. That's not how it works." Buck pats Streets shoulder as if they just had a great heart-to-heart, he pulls away from the side of the road to continue the path to his house that's secluded enough nobody will hear if Street screams for help.

"I do love him, I don't care what you say, he's the only person I've ever loved-." Again stopped by Bucks hand, only now resting on Streets jaw with a shush.

"You don't love him and you will never think of another boy like that again. Never." Street gags when Bucks thumb pushes between his lips to run the calloused pad of his finger across Streets tongue. It tastes of dirt and sweat, Street swears he could throw up just from the small amount of contact. He never expected this type of abuse from Buck and isn't sure how to react. It's more dangerous than the bruises and sprained bones like before, this has Streets heart rate picking up to a hazardous speed.

"I'll make damn sure you get the point." Street chokes as Buck shoves his finger more into his mouth with a jerk of his jaw. James panicking, this isn't going like he had expected it, this is nowhere close to what he prepared for, and Bucks only getting more aggressive with it all.

Sean bounces his leg up and down against the hospital bed as he waits for Aaron to come get him with the car. The hospital is releasing him, the drugs were halfway out of his system when he got here so they flushed the rest out quickly, there's no other damage but scraped knees and few cuts. Sean's still hesitant to leave.

It's been two hours and he hasn't heard anything or seen Street since he walked out of this hospital room with that look in his eye. Sean knows what that look meant and he knows that Street should be back from beating up Buck by now, it could be another person he's fighting but Bucks the only one that would make Street go pale white like he was.

There's a bite at the back of Sean's neck telling him that Streets not going to come back, that he's made up his mind and would rather listen to Bucks rules than be with Sean, that bite gets shoved to then back of Sean's mind. It can't be true, there's no way, they've waited too long to be together again. It might not have been spoken out into the universe that Sean and Street would wait for each other but it was known. Between them. That's all Sean needs, the words don't need to be said out loud, they can be kept up at both of their chests where the rest of their relationship stays.

Sean's about to go walk to the doors of the hospital and wait for his brother but he can't make it out of the door as Streets shuffling inside. Sean feels his stomach drop at his partners state.

Streets neck is purple with a hand print, his cheek marked red, a black eye forming on his left, his shoulders are hunched far enough in on themselves that Sean swears it has to be uncomfortable. Streets whole body is tightly compacted into itself, his hands shake violently when Sean peers down to them, he has Sean's jacket tugged on to try to cover his neck and Sean can only imagine what the rest of James's body looks like.

"What- what did he do to you?" Sean is almost talking in a gasp tone. Street just looks up at his, big doe eyes watering, bottom lip quivering, brows furrowing together as he opens his mouth but no words come out.

"Jamie what did he do?" Sean's hand takes Streets trembling one in a cautious manner, holding on more securely when Street head falls forward onto his chest with a broken cry.

"Oh baby...." Sean's able to click all the pieces together on his own. James wouldn't react like this if it was just a fight and some mean words thrown around, the clinging hands of Street break Sean's heart as his arms wraps around Streets back to hold them both steady.

Sean's supporting more than half of James weight, listening to the gut wrenching sobs escaping from Streets mouth, feeling his shoulders shake in the tight grasp, feeling his hot tears fall onto the exposed skin by Sean's shirt collar, and just holding on for dear life. There's nothing more he can do but grip onto Street with every bit of strength he has.

“Shhh, I got you, you’re okay.” Sean almost feels like he’s lying, Streets obviously not okay, neither of them are. Today was a disaster from the beginning and now, it being seven pm, it’s not gotten any better.

“What do you want to do baby? Do you need to be checked out? Should I get a nurse?” Street shakes his head against Sean’s neck before he pulls his face back. He sucks in the tears falling down his cheeks while keeping eye contact with Sean, James’s eyes look so hurt, they’re glossy with tears, appearing wider than what they usually are, it has Sean biting his tongue to not cry himself.

“Just- just take me home. Away from people.” Sean pulls Street back into his arms with a hum of understanding. He can do that.

They’re still standing there with Street hiccuping cries against Sean when Aaron and Derek walk in. They both pause looking like deer caught in headlights, mouths moving but no real words come out.

“Come on, Aaron can take us back to my apartment.” Sean learned that Street and Luca are roommates and even though he knows some of Streets team got called in to help on a case for another team, he’d rather not risk having Luca there. Street allows Sean to tug him all the way outside then into the back of the black suv Aaron has.

“It’s already eight, we could just go to bed.” Sean’s sure he’s been through enough to just pass out for the next three days.

“Can we shower first?” Street glances over to the open bathroom door of Sean’s loft, he really wishes he cleaned up before brining Street here, but there wasn’t time for that and there’s no time to worry about it as Streets pulling Sean into the bathroom.

They strip down in silence, allowing the steam from the hot water start to fill the room, not rushing to get anything done, both are too exhausted to be moving at a fast pace. Sean lets his eyes gaze over to Streets body, he’s seen it before, in every state anyone can think of, bruised and bloody, freshly out together in a suit, all of it stays at the forefront of his mind. Right now is different though. The handprint shaped bruises on Streets arms and back make Sean gain a sour taste in his mouth.

He can’t think about it for long since Streets getting into the shower with a nod for Sean to follow. He smiles when Street sighs contently as the stream of water wash over his back, his hair getting wet down quickly and head tipping backwards to wash his face off. Sean steps forward enough to duck his head under the water as Street leans to lean into his chest.

“The fact that you’re taller than me now annoys me.” Street mumbles still laying his head against Sean’s pec.

“Not my fault your short.” It’s really only a two inch difference, if that. Just enough height that Sean can tuck his head on top of Streets while they stand pressed together. Just holding each other.

They stay like that before Streets pulling away to turn Sean around and start to lather shampoo into his hair. They’ve been through this many times before, the silence that comes with showering together, taking care of the other in whatever way they need, it’s love filled and never move to anything more than gentle touches.

Sean remembers the first time Street had asked him to shower with him, it was after one of his first shifts as a cop and some suspect had gotten him thrown down a set of stairs. There was nasty brushing covering Streets back that had him wincing every time Sean had brushes his hands over the skin as he tried to wash the dirt off. After that it just became normal of sorts, mostly after bad days, sometimes if Sean got too lazy to wash his hair when coming home from the restaurants night shift, or if Street needed an excuse to drape himself over Sean’s chest for a bit- any reasoning it always has Sean’s heart swelling with love.

“I love you so much.” Sean murmurs once they’re both washed up and Street can go back to pressing himself into Sean’s front.

“I love you more.” Street grins against Sean’s chest and Sean right back.

The couple lean to kiss between the smiles they both have, the peace of having the other finally there with them making the problems of the day wash down the drain and all that remains is the overwhelming feeling of love. There might be problems down the line, things to work through just from today, but for now Sean and Street stay in blissful silence together.

#writing #js #jim street #sean hotchner #Sean hotchner x Jim street #swat cbs #criminal minds #criminal minds x swat #aaron hotchner #daniel hondo harrelson #criminal minds fic #swat fic

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archivyrep · 2 years ago

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Madame Nu, the stereotypical archivist of the Jedi Temple in the "Clone Wars" animation [Part 2]

Continued from part 1

Looking at "Lightsaber Lost"

Moving onto a later episode in the series. There is only a small mention of the Jedi Archives and Madame Nu in this episode, as most of it is about Ahsoka trying to get the lightsaber back from a thief, helped by an older Jedi who was sleeping in the archives at the beginning of the episode. Again, like Fini's writing in Holocron Heist, Drew Z. Greenberg, a writer who got a political science degree from UCLA (University of California, Los Angeles) and a law degree from Santa Clara University School of Law, confuses archives and libraries yet again. Yikes!

Reprinted from my Wading Through the Cultural Stacks WordPress blog. Originally posted on Aug. 3, 2020.

This leads to a number of questions. For one, the fact that an older user of archives helps Ahsoka is the only one we as viewers see in the archives, does this imply that users of the archives are old people? If so, that's laughable and a silly stereotype to say the least which needs to be debunked.

Looking at "Assassin"

Moving into the third season of the animated show, this episode, like Lightsaber Lost, this episode only briefly mentions the archives with Madame Nu almost seen as a sort of "motherly figure," yet another stereotype. Couldn't the writer of this episode, Katie Lucas, have done better? The 1.85 million people who watched this episode were further done a disservice.

And are Jedi anti-intellectual? Because Ahsoka seems that way. If her sentiment is that widespread among the Jedi, perhaps it explains why the archives is basically deserted every time we see it in the past episodes mentioned in this post and in Attack of the Clones.

Despite these downsides, this episode is interesting, although the parts focusing on archives are an utter mess.

Looking at "The Lost One"

This episode comes three seasons later in Season 6. Madame Nu explains the records that the Jedi Archives has on Sifo-Dyas, the Jedi Master said to have authorized the creation of the clone army, with the Sith trying to cover up their plan to, ultimately, kill the Jedi:

And that's it. She gets no other mention in the episode. Christian Taylor, who wrote this episode, gives her perhaps a better role than the other episodes, but still, she is a bit a stereotype in and of herself.

P.S. I also realized that in Revenge of the Sith, Obi-Wan revises a record of some sort in the Jedi Archives, although we do not see Madame Nu, as she is presumed dead of course.

Notes

[1] According to Wookiepedia, Madame Nu is mentioned in the following comics: Star Wars: Purge: Seconds to Die (with Vader killing her because she won't give him access to the archives!, although this is part of the expanded universe, with other comics being considered "canon"), A New Dawn (book), Kanan 7: First Blood, Part I: The Corridors of Coruscant, Darth Vader: Dark Lord of the Sith 6: The Chosen One, Part VI, Darth Vader: Dark Lord of the Sith 7: The Dying Light, Part I, Darth Vader: Dark Lord of the Sith 8: The Dying Light, Part II, Darth Vader: Dark Lord of the Sith 9: The Dying Light, Part III, Darth Vader: Dark Lord of the Sith 10: The Dying Light, Part IV, Darth Vader: Dark Lord of the Sith 11: The Rule of Five, Part I, Darth Vader: Dark Lord of the Sith 12: The Rule of Five, Part II, and Darth Vader: Dark Lord of the Sith 25: Fortress Vader, Part VII.

[2] She also appears in a cut scene from one episode, R2 Come Home, where she "warns Ahsoka of the Temple alert status."

P.S.S. There are a number of other mentions of archives and libraries, like in "The Hidden Enemy" when Anakin and Obi-Wan fight Asajj Ventress in a library of some kind, "Cargo of Doom" (S2, e2) when Anakin speaks of returning the stolen holocron to the "library" (should actually be the Jedi Archives). There's also fights over records in "Senate Spy" (S2, e4), "Children of the Force" (S2, e3), "Downfall of a Droid" (S1, e6), and "Duel of the Droids" (S1, e7).

#swtcw #star wars #the clone wars #jedi temple #jocasta nu #libraries #archives #stereotypes #archival studies #archival science #attack of the clones #sifo dyas #jedi #sith #animation #animated series #patrons #lightsabers

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iraacundus · 5 years ago

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International Relations

arrangedmarriage!hendery

genre: fluff, angst, smut words: 21k Warnings: sexual content; mentions of terrorism, death and injury; swearing

he was the president’s son, you were the ambassador’s daughter, forced into a marriage, the success of which, world peace quite literally hinged on

********

The news was unavoidable, every night it got worse and worse, your parents had advised you not to watch it, but you never listened. The tensions between the two countries had been rising for years and though they did their best to cover it up, those in the know, like your father, knew that you were on the brink of war.

“The proposed trade deal and boarder agreement between the two nations has fallen through,” said the newsreader who looked as calm as ever despite the potentially terrifying consequences of what she was saying.

You heard a knock at your door, so you fell leaned back on your bed, switching the TV off.

“Come in,” you called out, the door opening to reveal your father. You didn’t see him often, though you both lived in the same house, he had always been busy as ambassador to a county that your whole nation hated. So, when you saw him walk in, you knew it was important.

“I guess you have seen the news,” he said, spotting the remote that was still in your hand.

“We’re in serious danger, aren’t we?” you asked, but it wasn’t really a question, you knew the answer before you had asked.

Your father didn’t reply, he just sat down slowly on your desk chair, exhaling slightly.

“Your bodyguards will need to accompany you at all times now, even to university.” He said. It was your turn to sigh. It wasn’t that you disliked your bodyguards, or that you weren’t used to them, but university had always been a place you had a bit of freedom, without being watched all the time.

You didn’t argue though, you understood the gravity of the situation.

“I’m working on a solution, I think the issue can be resolved…” he cut himself off, looking more distressed than usual, “Just… I need you to meet me tomorrow afternoon in the Embassy Dining Room.” He said getting up again.

You wanted to ask why, but you also didn’t want to trouble him, he looked exhausted. The Dining Room was only used for official matters so the mere mention of it had inspired your curiosity, but you knew the situation wasn’t really about you, so you kept your mouth shut. A few minutes after he had left you put your slippers on and crept outside the door.

You had four bodyguards in total, two for the nightshift and two for the day, sadly your favourite mostly worked at night, so you rarely got to chat, but that night you took it upon yourself to go annoy him.

Jeno was by far your best bodyguard, all of them were the same age as you so they didn’t stand out in a crowd and so over the last few years Jeno had also become your close friend.

You found him standing just outside your door drinking milk tea, sometimes you couldn’t believe what his job was the way he acted.

“Hello bestie,” you called out to him, Jeno smiled when he saw you.

“Hello y/n,” he greeted back, “how are you this evening?”

It was always nice to talk to Jeno, not just because he was your friend but your bodyguards were the only people you knew except your family who were from your country, spoke your language, in every other aspect of your life you had to speak the language of a nation you resented.

“Stressed out, I think we are about this close to war,” you joked, putting your fingers as close together as possible while still leaving a gap. Jeno already knew this of course, while he was your bodyguard, he was also technically a member of the army, an important member at that.

He had joined at 16 and was so impressive he was almost immediately assigned to you.

“It will be fine,” he reassured, “Your Dad is a smart man, he will have a plan.”

“That’s what I’m stressed about,” you explained further, “he says I have to meet him tomorrow in the Dining Room, which has to be part of his plan,”

“Maybe you will get to meet the President,” Jeno laughed, you threw a mint at him.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I think the President hates us all enough to just shoot us on site,”

“That would really cause a war,” Jeno said, throwing the mint back at you, but you managed to catch it in your mouth, “Impressive,” he commented.

“It also means I have to have Chenle and Jaemin follow me around all day which I just don’t think I can take, are you sure you can’t switch to the day shift?”

Jeno shook his head, you stopped him before he could start his spiel of how he was the best out of all of them and you were statistically more likely to be targeted at night and so that’s when he was on duty, he told you this almost every day when you asked him to switch shifts.

“Just don’t say it,” you warned.

“But I am the best,” Jeno said proudly.

“I take it back I’m happy to have the other two,”

Jeno pouted,

“So much for bestie.”

You couldn’t help but smile, Jeno had managed to do exactly what you knew he would, make you smile, and forget about the impending doom of a war your country couldn’t win.

You talked with him a while more but when your brother came out and told you to,

“stop being annoying losers and go to bed,” - he was twelve - you went back into your room and turned the tv on again.

They were showing an interview with Hendery from earlier in the day. Hendery was the son of the President and you wondered how someone who seemed so nice could be the son of someone so evil.

He was sitting opposite the interviewer talking about how he hopes to start a project with his friends to help disadvantaged children and when they asked about the current international tensions, he said that he hoped a peaceful resolution could be reached.

You scoffed slightly at that; he should tell that to his father.

You had spent half your life on TV wondering what Hendery was like in real life, it was a weird obsession that Jeno regularly made fun of you for.

You just couldn’t figure out how much of his persona on TV was an act, how someone in such a strict family really lived, who were his friends, what did he do for fun. You had to think that like you, he had led a relatively isolated life.

If there had been one person you could have invited to your fantasy dinner party, it would have been Hendery. Chenle always picked Stephen Curry. It would have been a weird fantasy dinner party.

You had actually seen Hendery a few times in real life, you both attended the most prestigious university in the country, and he was only a year older than you. He was always with the same two people, one was Lucas, son of an important politician, the other was his main bodyguard, well at least you assumed as much.

You had never seen him on the news, his name was never mentioned alongside Lucas and Hendery in magazines, you assumed that the state was blocking his personal information from the media, to hide that he was a bodyguard.

Hendery had real bodyguards as well, two or three always followed behind the trio, but something just didn’t add up about that third guy being a normal college student.

You switched the TV off once again when Jeno sent you a text making fun of you for watching the Hendery interview again, you must have had the volume up too loudly. You were worried and stressed but you had never been one to struggle sleeping, so when you turned the light off and pulled the duvet up to your chin you fell asleep almost immediately.

*******************

Chenle and Jaemin had followed you around all day at university as planned, luckily no one had tried to attack you, but the paparazzi had been there taking as many photos as they could.

“I hope they got some good pictures of me, I actually have quite the fanbase back home as the cute bodyguard,” Jaemin tried to brag as you hid in the student café as far away from any windows as possible.

“Your wrong,” Chenle objected, you were about to agree with him when Chenle continued, “I definitely have more fans.”

You banged your head against your textbook.

“I hate you both, I should have made Jeno come,” you said causing Jaemin to pout and Chenle to just laugh.

You were about to kick him when Jaemin nudged you.

“He’s here,” he said ominously,

“Who?” you asked, “Please let it be Jeno to save me from you losers.”

“No, Hendery and Co.”

You fell silent, noticing Jaemin was right. Hendery, Lucas and the guy you didn’t know had just walked in and sat down a few tables away. You forced yourself not to stare.

“Not only am I stuck with you two but I’m also being followed by the enemy.”

“I don’t think he’s following us,” Chenle said, ‘Probably he was just hungry.”

“No, he’s definitely staring at y/n,” Jaemin said,”maybe he found that she watches him on the news over and over again.”

This time you did kick Jaemin, causing him to shout slightly. All three of them were now definitely looking at you.

Luckily at that moment Hendery seemed to get a call so you whispered at the two boys to get up.

“It’s almost three o’clock, we need to go meet my dad,” you explained as you all half ran out of the dining hall, entering into a full run when the cameras spotted you.

You didn’t think three people could have reacted anymore suspiciously than you just had.

A car was waiting with the diplomatic flags to pick you up, Jaemin shoved you and Chenle into the backseat, before shutting the door and climbing in next to the driver. The car had shaded windows so you could finally relax.

“Who do you think is going to be waiting in the Dining Room?” Chenle asked you. You hadn’t told either of them exactly where you were meeting your dad, Jeno was such a gossip.

You pulled up at the Embassy only ten minutes later. Cameras were once again outside but none of them seemed interested in you when you got out of the car and walked up to the gate. You thought it was strange, but you also weren’t complaining.

The guards saluted as the opened the gate to let you in. You walked along the drive and around to the back entrance that led into your family’s part of the house. Your dad had texted for you to wear something semi-formal, so you pulled out one of your favourite flowery dresses, found a nice pair of low heels and slid a bracelet onto your wrist.

It was your lucky bracelet. Jeno had given it to you for your 18th Birthday, it was a traditional bracelet made in your home country. Apparently by an old lady had cast a spell on you that made it lucky, while you highly doubted it was true, you still wore it every time you were nervous, believing it would help you.

You heard a small knock at your door,

“Are you dressed?” You heard Jeno call out, you quickly opened your door to let him in. His face looked grey.

“I volunteered to go with you to the meeting, I figured you had dealt with enough of the other two for one day.”

“But you were on duty last night, aren’t you tired, I’m sure Renjun could do it,” he was your fourth bodyguard.

“It’s okay, I slept all day and also I know you are nervous, so I wanted to be able to support you, even if it is silently from two meters away.”

You smiled, giving him a small hug before leaving the room and heading towards the dining room. Jeno seemed more nervous than you, you guessed your father had told him what was going on in advance. You could have asked Jeno, but you almost didn’t want to know.

You fidgeted outside the door, procrastinating your entrance. Jeno put his hand on your shoulder lightly.

“You look great y/n, and you do well at everything, it will be fine.” He said.

When you opened the door to the Dining Room you almost fell over. You had no idea what you had expected but to see the President, his wife and Hendery, sitting across the table from your own parents was a shock.

You glanced back at Jeno who gave you his best attempt at a reassuring smile.

“Y/n,” your father called out, motioning for you to come and sit in the empty chair in between him and your mother, opposite Hendery. You don’t know who you were more scared to see, the evil President or Hendery. Hendery wasn’t smiling like he always did on TV, like always seemed to be with Lucas. A frown was firmly settled on his lips and he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but there.

You sat down carefully in the chair after bowing your head in respect towards the President. Because he wasn’t a normal president, he had been elected once but that was a long time ago, he hadn’t held an election in twenty years, as long as you had been alive, so to you he wasn’t a president but a dictator.

Unlike Hendery, the President smiled at you, his smile seemed genuine unlike the slightly forced smile on both his wife and your parents’ faces.

“It’s lovely to meet you, y/n,” The President said, offering his hand out to shake, his grip firm and unwavering, “This is my wife and my son Hendery, I’m sure you’ve probably seen him around at university.”

You smiled the best you could,

“Yes, I’ve heard he’s quite popular,” you said, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, his mouth still resting in a firm line.

The President laughed. An intern came in and poured some tea before anyone continued speaking.

“The ambassador and I are both worried about how the tensions between our two countries are developing. We have been unable to find a traditional solution, yet we seem to have found an agreement that will solve the animosity so that eventually trade deals and boarder disputes can be settled.” He began.

You noticed Hendery hadn’t drunk any of the tea but was gripping the handle tightly, as sinking feeling arose in your chest as you began to guess what was going to be suggested, you were an intelligent person.

“It would require a large sacrifice on both your and my son’s behalf and to that extent we both know we cannot force you to agree but warn you of the consequences of this agreement failing.”

You tried to drink your tea as calmly as possible.

“Neither of us would suggest this if we felt there was a better option your father added.” They were both avoiding the main point.

“Marriage,” Hendery said all of a sudden, “That’s what they are trying to suggest.”

You knew what they were suggesting but the fact Hendery said it out loud almost caused you to choke on your tea.

“Yes,” the President continued, “as my son not so eloquently put, we feel that a union between the two countries would help people from both sides understand each other better through supporting a couple. We will pose it as if you had both met at university and fell in love naturally and we hope it means people will learn to love you, it might not work straight away but we hope it can win over the hearts of those who oppose on both sides eventually.”

You swallowed. It wasn’t like you had someone else you wanted to marry, you had never had a crush, you figured you would never be able to marry for love anyway, however you hadn’t banked on Hendery, on marrying into a family you resented so greatly.

“Hendery has already agreed but of course you do have a choice, I’m not in the business of making people do things they do not wish,” He said. You had to stop yourself from snorting with laughter.

He was blackmailing you into marriage with the threat of war, so his statement was just rather ironic, especially as blackmail was how he maintained power in more aspects of his life than not.

“Anything to ensure peace,” you said graciously. The President clapped his hands together with a grin.

“I knew you were a smart woman,” He said. You father breathed out a visible sigh of relief, you were offended he ever thought you would let your country down.

“We won’t announce the engagement right away, we will give you both some time to get to know each other, sometime to back away, in a month or so, if you are still both willing, we will hold a gala to announce the engagement, by then we will need you to have come up with a water-tight backstory, I can get someone to help create it if you wish, but all this can be discussed later.”

Another intern came in seconds later to inform the President and my father of urgent business for them both, causing them to both give their apologies and leave quickly.

You were left with Hendery, your mother and your future mother in law. Your mothers began to chat, both gushing about planning a wedding. It wasn’t that they were insensitive, they just both wanted to make the best out of a bad situation, you could tell from their earlier faces that they both worried for you.

Hendery’s eyes remained fixed on the tea, glaring at the cooling liquid.

You had never wanted to ask him a question more than right now. But you were scared, it wasn’t that you were afraid of Hendery in general, but you didn’t want to upset him. He was clearly nervous, playing with his fingernails.

You didn’t know why you felt so calm in comparison, you didn’t think Hendery could have had plans to marry for love, like you he must have always known he would marry for politics.

Yet something seemed to scare him. You had more reason to be scared, you were joining his family as his family was more powerful, you would have to live in his country as part of a dictatorship, but he seemed more scared.

“Too shy to even talk to each other, how cute,” your mum cooed. You wanted to throw a pen at her, you were starting to think you were a slightly violent person.

“We will fix that soon enough, why don’t you both come over on Saturday and we can talk for longer, so they can get to know each other better.” His mother suggested.

Yes, because all best conversations between fiancés happen in front of their mothers, you wanted to say to Jeno, but you had to pretend he wasn’t there, that was his job.

A few minutes later your mothers had exchanged phone numbers and were getting up to leave. You thought Hendery would at least acknowledge you, but he seemed to not even see you when he stood up to leave. You followed him out to the entryway, you could tell the mothers had tactically waited behind a few seconds.

“My name’s y/n,” you said to him loudly enough that he had to look over at you. He nodded.

“I know my father said, and also I have seen you at Uni, you were in the café today, you kicked your bodyguard and ran out,” he said.

You blushed red, cursing your violent nature, you were going to marry the son of an evil dictator who had only ever seen you act strangely. You must have committed so many sins in your past life.

“I’m Hendery,” he said, still not smiling.

“I think we both know I know who you are.” Your statement sounded slightly more accusatory than you had meant, but I didn’t seem to make Hendery seem anymore unhappy than he already was.

Neither of you said anything further in the two awkward minutes it took for your mothers to finally emerge.

“It was lovely to meet you,” His mother said wrapping her arms around you, far more personal contact than you had hoped for, but you understood she was just trying to be nice.

“You too,” you said with a grin, hoping you didn’t come across as disingenuous. The guard at the door opened the door for them to leave. Before Hendery did, he turned to give you a small smile,

“See you soon y/n,” he said. Before walking out towards all the flashing lights of the media storm that hat gathered.

You were not sure whether he had been nice to you for the sake of his mother or if he had just felt obliged but you were grateful nonetheless as it had made the whole experience seem less dire and it also had allowed your mother to smile from relief.

“He doesn’t seem too bad,” she said.

“He’s better than a war,” you replied before excusing yourself in the name of homework but really your aim was to get some peace and quiet.

You started walking up to the roof, Jeno close behind, you were waiting for him to shout at you and tell you that it was easy for you to be shot from the roof like he usually did but the words never came.

Even as you lifted yourself off the ladder Jeno said nothing he just came up and sat beside you, having texted Jaemin, Renjun and Chenle who also appeared moments later.

“You don’t get to marry evil Hendery that you’re obsessed with that’s not fair,” Jaemin whined as he sat down next to you, “you were meant to marry me.”

You shot him a confused look,

“In what world was I marrying you, if I was going to marry any of you it would be Jeno, but I would never because we are quintuplets.” You say to him to which he just sticks his tongue out.

“Chenle’s only like three years old,” Renjun protests. You laugh sadly.

“I will miss you all,” you said.

“Absolutely not,” Jeno replied, “we are not doing sad hours tonight.”

“What are we doing then?” asked Chenle while simultaneously fighting Renjun for calling him three years old.

“We will find me an outfit to wear for Saturday so that I’m so gorgeous it knocks Hendery out and I don’t have to talk to him, and he also forgets our weird café behaviour.” You said.

“Weirdly specific but okay,” Jaemin replied. The other three sighed, all of the boys hated outfit time, not because they were against fashion, but because you were so indecisive.

*******************

They may have complained but it worked, by the time you turned up at the front door of the Presidential House on Saturday you looked drop dead gorgeous. Your mother and Jeno had come with you and you all stood just behind the door waiting for it to open.

You were ushered through a series of rooms and up some stairs until you reached a bright sunny sitting room on the third floor. Inside Hendery’s mother was pouring some tea there was, however, no sign of Hendery himself.

She rushed over to great you, making sure you sat down, passing out cakes.

“I am sorry,” she said, “I told him to be ready for eleven.”

Just at that moment Hendery entered, wearing a suit, something he rarely did. You hated to admit how attractive he looked; you didn’t want Jeno to be right about your obsession.

He was followed by the third guy, the one who wasn’t Lucas. You had been right; he must have been a bodyguard as he went and stood next to Jeno.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Hendery interjected, “My suit wasn’t dry,” he explained, his face flustered. At least that humanised him somewhat, you could live with Hendery, you just had to believe he was a real person deep down somewhere.

He sat down on a chair across from you just like before, yet this time his eyes stared right at you.

“So, what do you study?” Hendery’s mother asked you, trying to get the conversation started.

You pushed a smile onto your face.

“Modern Languages and International Politics” you replied. You liked to think you were an impressive person, at least in some respects. You could speak four languages fluently and were learning two more at university. You knew almost as much about world affairs as your parents and your mother had always taught you excellent manners.

“You could study with Hendery,” she suggested, “he studies International Politics and History,” she said, after he didn’t offer up the information himself. You saw her try to nudge him and had to hold back a giggle.

“We certainly could, that would be lovely,” you said, looking Hendery dead in the eyes, daring him to stay silent. You couldn’t marry someone who didn’t speak to you, “What do you do for fun?” you asked him.

“I like playing basketball and watching films,” he said. His voice was cold, it may have dissuaded anyone else, but you refused to give up.

“Ah maybe you could teach me how to play, one of my bodyguards loves basketball and has tried his best to teach me but I’m a failure at it, I prefer tennis if I’m honest.”

Hendery didn’t reply.

“That’s great, I must challenge you to a match sometime y/n,” his mother replied, “that is if you don’t give up on marrying my son here, I do apologise he isn’t usually this… shy.”

You certainly didn’t believe being shy was his issue. You also didn’t understand what his issue was. He must have had a girlfriend you decided, made the mistake you never had and fallen in love with someone he could never marry.

But you were only guessing you had no idea.

“Don’t worry,” you replied, “Hendery isn’t bad enough to destroy international peace for.” A statement that caused both of your mothers to laugh somewhat nervously.

Hendery looked down and back up again.

“Sorry,” he said quietly, “I really just am a bit nervous.”

You were a bit sceptical of this excus, still you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and take pity on him.

“Why?” you asked, “I don’t bite,”

Hendery laughed slightly, shaking his head.

“It’s not that, I just want to make a good impression I guess, you are my future wife and also…” he didn’t finish, “I’ll explain some other time,” he said, his eyes flicked to our mothers next to him.

He was right that it was hard to connect with four other people in the room, but the mothers particularly. Jeno you would have told later if he hadn’t been there, but the presence of parents made the meeting feel formal.

However, Hendery did seem to make more of an effort as the meeting continued. You learned that he likes cats and that his favourite colour was pink. Nothing ground-breaking, he still seemed like Hendery on TV, picture perfect and somewhat shallow. Not in the sense that he was self-obsessed but more that he was like a cartoon character 2-D. He lacked any sense of humanity or connection, he said all the right things, never saying anything particularly meaningful.

On reflection he probably thought the same about you.

You only saw Hendery once more properly in the following weeks. You were both busy with university and it was hard to find a time you could meet with your mother’s present, something they insisted on until you were both officially engaged.

Only three weeks after the marriage was first suggested Hendery asked his father if the marriage could be announced sooner rather than later, despite having a week left to decide. You guessed he partly did this to avoid any more awkward teatime chats with your mothers. The President rang you to ask if you were also okay with making a decision early, you agreed. Also, partly to avoid any more of those chats.

It was decided that your engagement would be announced two weeks later and a ball to celebrate would be held the night after that

Your last night of normality passed quickly, you went out to play mini golf with the four boys. You were usually only allowed out a few times a month to large places such as the crazy golf one, but your parents had let it slide seeing as you were a 20-year-old woman about to get engaged.

The next morning your alarm rang at five. You sat up, questioning whether you should take up Renjun on an offer he had given to smuggle you out of the country. If only world peace hadn’t been so important.

You kicked off your duvet in a mood and dragged yourself over to your dressing table. You didn’t have to get ready particularly, you had been assured state media would take care of hair and makeup, however you had still felt it was vital to at least brush your hair.

Ten minutes later Jeno arrived at your door with a McDonalds breakfast.

“Breakfast for M’lady,” he joked, kneeling down to pass it to you. From behind him you saw a girl’s head pop out from around the corner. You almost jumped backwards from shock. Jeno laughed.

“This is Chanmi,” he introduced, “she is your state provided assistant.”

“Why do you make it sound like communism Jeno,” she complained before jumping round him and holding her hand out for you to shake. She looked at her own hand and before you had a chance to shake it, she put it down and pulled you into a hug instead.

“I may work for you, but I also hope we become life-long friends,” she said. You appreciated that at least one person was excited for today.

“I’m y/n,” you smiled back, “I also hope we get on well.” You offered her a hash brown, but she refused.

“I already ate, I’m here to run through today’s schedule,” she pulled out a very large folder from her bag and opened it to the first page, “we have hair and make up at eight, wardrobe at nine and the announcement will be at around nine-thirty, but before that we have a rehearsal with Hendery, that’s why we are here so early.” Chanmi seemed to speak with out breathing.

Jeno looked down at his watch, five twenty-five.

“We need to go,” he said, “you can eat in the car.”

You grabbed your lucky bracelet from the side and clasped it round your wrist, there was no way you would have gone on television without it.

Jaemin, Chenle and Renjun stood at the door with your mother and little brother. They had gathered to wave you off even though you would be back home by the afternoon.

“I love you guys,” you managed to say half-way through eating your meal. Jeno continued hurrying you towards the car. You wanted to laugh how seriously he was suddenly taking his job, not that he had been messing around before, but he had never cared so much about being punctual.

He sat in the front so Chanmi could climb in next to you.

“Who is that good looking boy who was closest to the door?” she asked. Jaemin would have loved to hear her say that. But before you could tell her it was him; she had already carried on talking.

“You will meet with Hendery so you can both firm up your stories about your romance.” She explained.

“You know it’s fake?” you asked her.

“All key staff know, but not everyone who works in the Presidential House, so don’t mention it when other people are present,” she said. You nodded. You were starting to get nervous. It was not your first time on TV, you had filmed programmes for your home country about what it was like to study abroad and you had done work for the young ambassador’s programme run by Hendery’s country.

But this was… something else.

The drive was only ten minutes as usual, there was also no traffic in the morning, so you barely had time to contemplate your impending fate before arriving at the house.

Jeno and Chanmi ushered you out of the car and into the house, there was only one reporter waiting to hide you from, though you were surprised anyone had been there before six in the morning.

Hendery and his bodyguard, who Jeno had informed you was named Sicheng, were waiting for you just inside the door.

“Good morning,” you said as brightly as possible, taking another sip of your coffee, hoping it would help in some way. You were half expecting Hendery to change his mind at the sight of your tattered appearance before you remembered he wasn’t really marrying you for your beauty.

“Nice to see you again,” he replied, slightly less brightly. You all stood slightly awkwardly waiting for someone to lead the way.

“Why don’t we go somewhere to talk?” Chanmi prompted.

“Oh yes,” Hendery said, seeming to remember what was going on, “let’s go to the family dining room, I got someone to prepare some drinks and snacks.”

You felt a bit bad for standing there with your McDonalds coffee, there was worse crimes you could have committed than assuming he wouldn’t have provided food though you supposed.

You followed just behind Hendery with Chanmi as Sicheng fell back to walk with Jeno, both of them exchanging friendly glances. At least Jeno had made a friend.

The kitchen/dining room you entered looked somewhat normal compared to the rest of the house, though still elaborate and high class it was clearly somewhere a family lived, it much less resembled the home of a 16th century king.

Hendery seemed to notice your impression of the kitchen.

“A lot of the house is normal compared to the rest, it was remodelled for a modern family to live in, with proper central heating and all,” he joked, you politely gave him a small smile.

You looked over at the dining table. When he had said a few drinks and snacks he had been making a massive understatement. There was fruit, cereal, biscuits and hot food of all kinds. There was five types of juice, tea, coffee and even hot chocolate.

You really wished you hadn’t eaten the McDonalds.

“Help yourself,” Hendery said shyly, his hair falling over his eyes as he looked down. You couldn’t help but think about how cute he looked in the morning. You internally slapped yourself. This was a marriage of countries, not people.

“You guys too,” he said looking at Chanmi and the two bodyguards behind who had already began to hover by the pancakes. Sicheng high-fived Jeno and you couldn’t help but laugh.

Hendery looked over at you smiling when he saw you laugh.

“Shall we sit down?” he said. You grabbed an apple juice and a banana, as to not look impolite and sat down opposite where Hendery was. Chanmi sat down next to you, pulling out her massive folder once again.

“I assume we have to come up with, and learn a fake backstory,” he said to Chanmi, she nodded,

“Yes, you don’t have to be super detailed yet, it will be better to build in more details over time, but you do need to agree upon a basic timeline yes. It works best if you say you met at university and started dating sometime after, but you can both decide the details.”

You wished that she had just done it for you and printed it off but Hendery’s mother had explained weeks ago that if you came up with the story yourselves you were less likely to forget it.

“I think it’s best if we say we were friends for a while first,” you began, “I’ve been at the university for two years so we could perhaps say we met a year ago and started dating a while after?” You proposed.

“I agree,” he said, “We can say we started dating two months after we met. That we were introduced by our mutual friend Lucas…”

You cut him off,

“But I don’t know anything about Lucas,” you objected. Hendery shook his head,

“Doesn’t really matter they won’t be interested in the details of that yet, Lucas has many friends so it’s believable and by the time they ask about that I’m sure you will have met Lucas many times.”

What he said made sense. You paused for a moment, when he mentioned that you would meet Lucas, it started to dawn on you that your whole life, however you had seen it playing out, wasn’t going to be that way, your life would be dominated by your marriage to the son of a dictator you barely knew.

You almost dropped your cup at the thought of it, Chanmi saving it from falling by steadying your arm.

Her once infallible expression now looked somewhat anxious.

“Sorry,” you said, “You’re right Hendery that works.” You placed your cup down. Chanmi started to scribble down what Hendery had said once you confirmed he had a good idea.

“What else do we need to be able to talk about?” you asked, Chanmi scanned down her list of questions.

“Well just reasons you like each other, you can make that up on the spot though basic things, maybe agree on the location of the first date and proposal and that’s about it, most of it will be a prepared statement given by Hendery and only a few questions by reporters.”

“Study date,” Hendery said, “for the first date, we should say we studied together, we have to explain in a way that explains why we haven’t ever been seen together, it plays up the star crossed lovers angle,” he said, “You can answer that one, I will talk about the proposal don’t worry about that.”

You nodded, hazarding another sip of your juice. Chanmi smiled.

“All set then, I will go and make sure everything else is set up well, you have another half an hour or so to just hang out or whatever,” she said.

You had been hoping she wasn’t going to leave you alone with Hendery which you knew was stupid because you had to live a whole lifetime with him, however you were postponing that until the last minute.

Chanmi ran out the door and the other two were still enjoying the food, watching a video in the corner, thankfully nobody was attacking at the current moment.

“We are finally left alone,” Hendery joked, “well at least mostly.” You looked up and smiled politely again, playing with your bracelet nervously.

“That’s pretty,” he commented, “where did you get it?”

“Jeno gave it to me when I turned eighteen, it’s from our home country.”

Hendery glanced over at Jeno who looked up from his phone and waved back. Hendery’s face changed slightly but you couldn’t read his expression.

“It’s meant to be charmed by a witch” you continued, “I wear it for luck.”

“Ah cool,” Hendery replied as he continued to watch you play nervously with the bracelet, “you don’t have to be so polite, if your nervous you can say, if you want to scream obscenities at me I wont stop you.”

You exhaled, the tension you held inside releasing slightly.

“It’s not your fault either, it isn’t an optimal situation for either of us so it would be unfair for me to scream obscenities. I’m not angry anyway. But nervous… that I am.”

“About the announcement?” he prompted. You glanced up at the ceiling, looking at the intricate pattern in the paint.

“Not in particular though it does unsettle me slightly. It’s more of an overall nervousness I would say…” Hendery seemed to want you to continue, “Well you seem polite and all, but I don’t know you and so giving up my life to marry you is somewhat scary. But sometimes in life you have to make sacrifices, and this is mine, as it is yours.”

Hendery kept looking at you before he got up, he walked round and sat down in the chair next to you where Chanmi had once been.

“I suppose I understand that better than anyone else ever will,” he said his face serious, “but I really mean it when I say I don’t want either of us to be unhappy, so I really will try my best, not for the sake of international relations but for the sake of ourselves.”

You smiled genuinely at him.

“I’m sure at worst I will only hate you a little bit,” you joked.

A text came through on your phone from Chanmi, you didn’t know when she had acquired your phone number, but you pushed that thought aside.

Makeup Time!!! Upstairs third room on the left

“I have to go, my beautification awaits,” you said.

“You’re already pretty,” Hendery said, you were going to laugh but Hendery seemed serious. You blushed slightly. You put your phone in your pocket and grabbed a water bottle of the table.

“Well thank you and see you later for the end of our lives,” you said.

“It’s not the end it’s the beginning!” Hendery called after you as you hurried out. Jeno saw you leaving and almost fell over running after you.

“I see you have made a new best friend,” you said to him, on the way to where you hoped you would find Chanmi.

“I can’t be stuck with the same four friends my whole life, can I?” he said, “And anyway you and Hendery seem pretty close, you were always obsessed with him.”

“I was never obsessed with him,” you shout whispered back to him, clearly not quietly enough as Chanmi, who was waiting at the top of the stairs intercepted the conversation.

“Obsessed with who? I don’t think I’m up to a secret boyfriend scandal, let’s make that clear now.” She said.

“It’s nothing,” you said, glaring at Jeno. Chanmi seemed happy to accept that and a few seconds later had you seated in a chair in front of a large mirror.

For the next hour you had to endure several people pulling your hair and prodding your face. By the end you did look better than you ever had but you were not sure if the sweat and tears were worth it.

You had no time to ponder this as Chanmi was already pushing you towards a clothes rack. Jeno decided it was time for him to wait outside the door, leaving just you, Chanmi and the clothes.

“Jeno isn’t the secret boyfriend, is he?” Chanmi asked, searching through the rack. You coughed, water almost dribbling out of your mouth.

“No. He’s my brother practically, in all honest he was making fun of me and Hendery. I used to watch Hendery on TV obsessively, not because I had a crush on him but because I thought the son of a dictator was an interesting character. I didn’t believe he could be the same person in life as he is on TV, so I watched him over and over hoping to catch him out.”

“I want to say that’s cute given the situation but really think we will just need to find you a hobby to take up,” Chanmi decided, her face determined, “you can pick from any of these three,” she handed you three similar dresses, you picked a flower one, similar to the ones you had at home but clearly more expensive.

Chanmi smiled,

“Your mother told me you loved flowers,”

That must have been where she got your phone number.

“It’s a beautiful dress,” you complimented her for finding it,

“It should be at the price it costs.”

You pulled your makeshift outfit off and put on the outfit. She gave you some earrings and a necklace.

“Don’t I need an engagement ring?” you asked her.

“Don’t worry about that,” she said with a knowing smile. Jeno knocked on the door at the same time.

“You need to get going,” he called. You smiled at Chanmi before following her out and back down the staircase. She led you into the room next to the conference room where a team of people were waiting.

A lady started explaining how the microphone worked and that you didn’t need to stand up to answer any questions. She fell silent when Hendery walked into the room, his father and yours right behind him. Your father gave you a quick smile before turning back to the President.

Hendery walked up behind you and tapped you on the shoulder lightly,

“Can I borrow you for one minute?” he asked, and you followed him into an empty room across the hall. It seemed to be a rather large bathroom. Hendery locked the door.

“Is this the part where you murder me?” you asked, trying to make a joke. Hendery didn’t seem to understand, he looked shocked,

“I would never hurt you, let alone murder you, y/n, I hope you know that,” he said earnestly.

“I was joking,” you said, trying to laugh to ease the tension but it sort of sounded more like you were having breathing issues.

“Okay good because we don’t have a lot of time,” he said. You smiled back at him.

“What did you want to tell me then, if your plan wasn’t murder?” cursing yourself for bringing the murder joke back as soon as you had said it, luckily whether out of politeness or genuine humour Hendery chuckled.

He started to get down on one knee,

“Oh no… you don’t need to do this,” you said to him, shaking your hands. Hendery just grinned.

“But I want to, I should at least propose to my fiancé,” he pulled a box out of his pocket to reveal a ring that must have cost a large fortune, not a small one, “Will you marry me?” His face now serious as he looked up at you with a certain hope in his eyes.

You were more nervous now than you had been all day, you clutched the ends of your dress, your nails digging into your skin. The reality of the situation ever increasing.

“Yes,” is all you managed to say, but it was all you needed to say, Hendery stood up and placed the ring on your finger, his own fingers cold. The heating was certainly lacking.

He was wearing a much nicer suit than before, this time it wasn’t at all damp looking either. He wore a black tie and a badge with his country’s flag on it.

“We need to go,” you managed to say, very aware of how close Hendery now was to you and how you didn’t need another reason to be nervous. An attractive man standing that close made you nervous.

“Let’s go then,” Hendery said unlocking the door and holding it open for you which you thanked him for, quickly walking back across the hall.

Chanmi grabbed you, clearly checking that Hendery had given you the ring, once she had seen it, she was satisfied.

“Time to shine,” she said pushing you towards the door.

The conference room had been set up with four seats, Hendery and the President in the middle, you and your father seated either side. You saw both your mothers watching from the front row with Chanmi. Jeno was standing with a line of bodyguards at the back, Chanmi had let you keep your bracelet on and so you felt somewhat calmer because of it.

Hendery sat down first and you walked across to sit next to him.

“You will be fine,” he whispered to you. At the same time his father began to speak.

“Today the Presidential House would like to make an announcement regarding the recent engagement of my son Hendery and his fiancé y/n, daughter to an ambassador to this country.” he said, “My son would like to read a short statement to this effect.”

“I would like to express to everyone who is watching my happiness on my engagement to the love of my life, y/n. Although we come from different countries, two that have not always agreed in the past, we have still managed to find each other and that is something I think is beautiful. I hope that all of our citizens can respect out forthcoming marriage and grow to love y/n just as much as I do.” He said smiling down at you at the end.

It made you feel sick, the words he said, lies.

Lies to a nation who would love to see your country burn, just meters away from a President who would let that happen if other countries wouldn’t condemn him for it.

The President then spoke again, of how this had allowed the two nations to come to a trade agreement and therefore how it must have been fate, though he was suspicious at first, he now recognised the power of true love.

In that moment you hated him. He may have given you an opportunity for peace but only in a manner that would cause your father to suffer through losing you to him. You hated him for how he used his own son to achieve this, it made you feel more sick than anything Hendery could ever say.

Yet the conference continued, and you sat with the same fake smile on your face, trying desperately to ensure a nation loved you, to ensure it was all worth it.

The questions began, the same ones Chanmi had promised, first date, favourite things,

“I love how hardworking he is,” you said,

“She is very determined and passionate,” Hendery said.

“Where did your engagement occur” they asked,

“You won’t believe me Jungwoo,” he began, of course he knew the reporter, “but I actually proposed here in a bathroom,” a shriek of laughter went up.

“Why a bathroom?” Jungwoo the reporter replied incredulous.

“Well actually we first met in a bathroom, y/n was with Lucas having dinner with some friends and he had invited me to come join, I walked in to see the bathroom door open and y/n crawling on the floor trying to find her earring and so I helped her search, so I suppose jewellery in a bathroom is sort of a fun joke to us.”

Though the story was false you felt calmer that Hendery somehow had not lied about the location of the proposal, he had made your relationship seem not one-hundred percent fake to you, for which you were grateful.

The interview ended shortly after. You filed out of the room and back into the hallway.

“That went brilliantly,” the President asserted, your father agreeing strongly, eager to please him. You loved your father, but you hadn’t realised he was a slightly weak man until that moment.

You turned to Hendery,

“Thank you for working in the true location of the proposal, its hard to explain why but it means a lot to me.”

“I get what you mean, it is the one thing about us that is true and that does mean something,” Hendery agreed, “that’s why I worked it into that ridiculous story, also its so ridiculous no one would ever believe I was lying.”

You started to notice Chanmi hovering, it was time for you to leave.

“I suppose I will see you for the ball tomorrow then?” you said. Hendery nodded.

You were about to leave when Hendery remembered something.

“Ah yeah, here’s my phone number, in case you need anything,” he said handing you a piece of paper from his pocket.

“Thank you, and thank you for the ring, it’s beautiful.”

“I picked it myself last week… the ring not the phone number,” he said. You laughed, properly, not out of any obligation.

“Bye Hendery.”

“Bye bye future wife.”

And with that you walked to Chanmi who lead you back out of the building and away.

You cried when you got home. You were understandably upset about the whole situation but when you pulled out your phone and the number Hendery had left and texted him saying

This is y/n btw

You felt somewhat better, it wasn’t Hendery you objected to, he seemed nice and maybe in another life you would even have chosen to date him.

It was the lack of freedom and the lies that upset you, it was the smile on the Presidents face when he announced he was suddenly able to agree to the trade deal terms. You could have punched a wall.

You didn’t even want to talk to Jeno.

But when Hendery replied with a screenshot of his phone where he had saved your name as ‘fiancé from the bathroom’ with a heart, you wanted to punch the wall a little less.

*******************

“Just breathe in more!” Chanmi shouted as she struggled to close the final clasp on the corset of your dress.

“Could you not have found a dress that fits a normal human?” You replied, red in the face from all the breathing in. Jeno and Jaemin were in fits of laughter in the corner watching, clearly finding your struggle rather amusing.

The dress Chanmi was wrestling you into was a beautiful lilac ballgown, one of the famous colours of Hendery’s country, he was going to wear a red tie, the colour of your own nation.

With one last breath in, Chanmi managed to secure it properly and you were able to breathe again, though not at full capacity, the dress had perhaps permanently destroyed your lung functionality.

“Right shoes on, we are almost late,” Chanmi continued running around, shoving one last hairpin into your hair.

It was the night of your engagement ball, even the name of the event sounded elaborate even to you.

Your phone told you that you had about three minutes to run to the top of the ballroom, to walk down the stairs, like something out of Cinderella.

You threw Jeno your phone and started to run, Chanmi running just as fast next to you.

“If that stupid dress had fit this wouldn’t have happened, now you’re going to be red in the face,” Chanmi complained, “I will fight that tailor.”

You had never heard such anger towards a dressmaker before so you refrained from making a statement about how the dress had made you red in the face, late or not.

You reached the door that led to the ballroom balcony with about a minute to spare. Chanmi started viscously fanning you with her schedule to an extent you couldn’t help but laugh.

Chanmi was so passionate about her job it was amazing, it took your mind off your nerves. You were about to walk down the stairs with about three hundred people watching you, you had to not fall, look graceful and most importantly make them love you.

And make them think you and Hendery were in love, there was also that.

Your face had almost returned to a normal colour as Chanmi raised up her fists to cheer you on and the balconey doors opened.

It took a second for your brain to remember what to do, but finally you stepped forward. You could see the ballroom below, filled with important people in expensive clothing. But at the bottom of the steps waiting you could also see Hendery.

You kept your eyes fixed on him as you descended, he was the only person in the room you recognised except for your own parents and therefore he was the only face you could look at without passing out due to nerves.

Peace between nations rested on the important people here liking you, believing you were worth the love of the President’s son. That was a heavy burden to bear and it weighed down on your shoulders that you had to keep perfectly upright even as you reached the final steps.

Hendery’s eyes looked in awe of you. You thanked God that at least one of you was a good actor.

He walked towards you, offering out his hand as you reached the ground. You reached out to meet him, his hand touching yours softly. It was the first time you had ever had physical contact with him.

It wasn’t like a movie, sparks didn’t fly when he touched your hand, but it did reassure you slightly that he hadn’t run away yet.

He leaned down and gently pressed his lips to the top of your palm.

“You look beautiful y/n,” he said, his eyes shining due to the reflection of the chandelier light above.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you said, forcing a giggle. It wasn’t that he didn’t look handsome, in truth he was possible the most handsome man you had ever seen at that moment in his black tie suit. You were just too nervous to laugh naturally, to act naturally.

Hendery smiled back up at you as the string music began to play.

“Shall we dance?” he asked, putting his other arm around your waist and pulling you closer. Luckily as the daughter of the ambassador you had learned to dance from a young age and therefore weren’t going to embarrass yourself.

“I fancy myself quite a good dancer,” you said smiling. Hendery nodded in agreement.

“You’re quite right about that, but I have to ask, am I really just not bad looking,” he said, leaning in closer to whisper the last part. You blushed slightly,

“I’m sure you know your very handsome Hendery,” you said before leaning in yourself to whisper in his ear, “and I agree with you, leaning and whispering is a good tactic to make us seem close.”

His eyes narrowed before he chuckled.

“You’re a smart woman y/n.”

You carried on dancing until the song ended at which point the President came over.

“May I cut in?” he asked, Hendery stepped back, the smile from his face immediately gone. In contrast you plastered a fake smile onto yours.

“It would be my honour,” you affirmed, when really the thought of dancing with such a horrendous man repulsed you. Physically the President was almost attractive as his son just many years older, yet you hated him so much so just the thought of touching him made you want to flee.

The music started up and you began to waltz.

“You and Hendery looked happy dancing,” he remarked.

“We get on reasonably well,” you replied simply. It wasn’t a lie.

“That pleases me to hear, I wouldn’t want to make either of you unhappy.” He also didn’t seem to be lying, and maybe he wasn’t but he was still willing to risk his own son’s happiness to make a point and so every word he said to you was like poison.

“Your son is a very smart and kind person, I am sure we will be a happy couple.” You said it because you had to make him happy but you did also wish it would be true. You hoped one day you and Hendery could be happy together for real.

You just had to fall in love with him first.

You danced until the end of the song, then you danced with about five state officials before you finally had to sit down. You were good at wearing heels but dancing for such an extended period of time was tiring.

You watched Hendery as you sat, dancing with the wives of the officials, his face smiling casually. He was instantly likeable just like on TV, yet you still didn’t believe he was really like that all of the time. You still wanted to find out if he had any cracks.

Lost in thought you didn’t notice Hendery standing in front of you, his hair slightly sweaty from all the dancing.

“Why are you sitting alone?” he asked.

“I don’t know many people here and I’ve always been a pretty solitary person, symptomatic of having to be guarded twenty-four seven,” you said, nodding back to where Jeno and Jaemin were at the edge of the room only metres away.

“Well lonely lady, we need to make a toast,” he said offering his arm for you to take. You stood up, the pain of your shoes starting up once again and linked your arm with his.

“We can’t all be sociable Mr. Perfect,” you joked back. Hendery looked away grinning,

“That’s not how I come across is it?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know, you always seem perfect, dancing just now, in all your TV interviews..”

He cut you off,

“You watch me on TV?” he asked, seeming genuinely surprised.

“Don’t think to highly of yourself, I can’t help that you are always on the television, you’re the joy of a nation, there is whole magazines that basically only write about you and Lucas.”

Hendery chuckled again.

“And now they will only write about you and me,” he said. You had reached the top of the balcony where a member of staff signalled for the music to stop.

Hendery had just stepped forward to speak when it happened. At first you couldn’t be sure, all you heard was a loud bang and the sound of people screaming, then another bang occurred and Hendery let go of your arm, grabbed your hand and started to run pulling you behind him. You saw a group of men start to chase you up the stairs.

Your feet were in the most pain you had ever felt from wearing shoes but you kept running behind Hendery, holding onto his hand as tightly as you could, not knowing where he was running to but knowing that if you stopped the men behind could potentially try to kill you.

Hendery suddenly stopped by a door and flung it open, letting go of your hand to shut it quickly and locked it as soon as you were inside.

You opened your mouth to speak, Hendery shook his head raising his finger to his mouth indicating you should say silent. He turned the light off and got his phone torch out. He seemed to be searching for something but you couldn’t help him because you didn’t know what it was.

Seconds later you saw him lift some of the bathroom tiles that were fixed together to create a secret trapdoor. He pressed his thumb to the top corner of the tile which flashed green. Despite your fear you couldn’t help be impressed by the James Bond level tech this house seemed to have.

Hendery lifted the door up and motioned for you to climb in, you stepped back into the hole, your feet finding a ladder and you began to climb down as fast as you could, Hendery following, he managed to close the door just as you heard people attempt to kick the bathroom door down.

The ladder led down to what seemed to be a secret bunker. There was a final door which Hendery opened this time with his eye. The bunker was a small room, it had a bed and bottles of water but not much else.

Hendery sighed out once he had shut the outer door. You slumped down on the bed, your back leaning against the wall. Hendery walked over and handed you a cup of water.

“You can talk here, it’s soundproof,” he said but you were too shell-shocked to get any words out.

The first thing you could clearly think about was the pain in your feet, the running had caused your feet to start bleeding, something you noticed as you pulled the shoes off.

You ripped part of your dress and put the water on it, using it to wipe the blood from your feet.

Hendery sat down next to you, almost as shocked as you were, even if he was trying his best to hide it.

A bomb must have gone off, was your first thought, the ball had been attacked, probably in protest. You felt hot tears fall down your face at the realisation. Your parents had been down there, you didn’t know if they were safe.

Hendery seemed to snap out of his own thoughts, staring at you with concern. At least he wasn’t stupid enough to ask if you were okay.

You wiped the tears from your eyes furiously,

“Sorry,” you said, “I’m not usually such a baby.”

Your words seemed to cause Hendery more concern.

“Given the situation I don’t think crying makes you a baby,” he said. You shrugged.

“It’s not the first attack on my life in this country,” you replied, which was true, it was the fourth. People on both sides really did hate the other.

“It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve… You have the right to be upset, to be scared, those are all normal emotions.”

“You’re not crying, why should I,” you countered. In any other situation you thought Hendery probably would have laughed.

“I don’t have the right, it was my father who got us both into this situation.”

“Your father,” you said, “not you.” The thought Hendery saw the situation as any way his fault, made you feel so much worse. You couldn’t stop your tears from flowing silently down your face.

Hendery looked at you with sad eyes, before he shuffled closer to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, bringing your head down onto his shoulder as he held you.

“I don’t ever object to my father, I’m not any better,” he mused sadly.

“I could have said no,” you whispered in reply, “but I didn’t in the hope that marring you would stop attacks like this, not against me but against my people and against yours. I like to believe Hendery that what we are doing is not in fear of your father, but creating peace in spite of your father.”

“Why has it ended with your cheering me up?” Hendery said, staring down at you.

“We are helping each other, a team for life right? You have a right to be scared an upset.” You quoted him on the last part.

“Are your feet okay?” Hendery asked, suddenly worried again. You looked down at your cut feet, the bleeding mostly stopped.

“I don’t think it’s life threatening.”

Hendery chuckled.

A moment later you heard the door bang. You both stood up, your worry for your feet gone again. Hendery held your hand, pushing you to stand behind him protectively, the door banged again before opening, your nails digging into the skin of Hendery’s hand.

“Are you okay y/n?!” you heard Jeno’s voice. You sighed with relief when you saw him standing at the door with Sicheng right next to him.

You ran over and threw your arms around him.

“What happened? What’s happening?” you heard Hendery ask Sicheng.

“Terrorists, protesting the trade agreement and demanding war, two bombs, luckily not strong but there was still five dead and twelve in critical condition.” Sicheng reported.

“Who, do you know who is dead?” you said letting go of Jeno and turning to face Sicheng.

“Nobody you would know Miss y/n,” he said, “Both of your parents are fine, your father has suffered a few minor injuries but nothing worrying,” he added. You breathed out a sigh of relief, something you felt terrible for given the tragedy.

Sicheng and Jeno led you both back out into the open and along to where both of your parents were waiting. Your father had a sling around his neck and the President had a large cut on his cheek, he had clearly been hit by a bit of shrapnel.

The President came over and started to apologise as your mother ran over to hug you.

“Hendery took me to an escape shelter,” you explained to her as she sobbed into your chest. You could tell she wanted to say she wished she had never let this marriage go ahead.

“I hope that what happened today doesn’t change your mind about anything?” was all the President asked. Hendery looked like he wanted to punch him, but his mouth stayed shut and he didn’t hit anyone.

You managed to remove yourself from your mother’s grip.

“It only reinforces the need for this marriage to go ahead.” You said.

“Then we think it is best for you to move in here for safety reasons. You can still have two of your own bodyguards but we feel the added protection would help. As you have seen we have many precautions in place in times of emergency.”

“Obviously you can have your own room,” Hendery’s mother added, “We can even work together with Chanmi to decorate it the way you like.”

Your heart dropped, you had forgotten about Chanmi, though Hendery’s mother mentioning her must have meant she was fine.

“Is she okay, Chanmi?” you asked to nobody in particular.

“She just had to get stitches in her arm,” Sicheng said, “Not the bomb but she was stabbed by an assailant looking for you.”

You wanted to bs sick, all of these people hurt because of your fake marriage. You put your hand to your head, almost falling over as your legs wobbled. Hendery managed to catch you, helping you stand straight, not letting go of you.

“Can we discuss this tomorrow father, I think y/n needs to rest, this has been a rather traumatising day,” he said.

Before you could protest that you were fine his father nodded.

“Let her sleep in your bed until we can get a room ready for y/n tomorrow, you can sleep in Sicheng’s room,” he said. Your parents didn’t protest. So Hendery helped you walk from the room, Jeno following behind, now with Jaemin and Sicheng.

“Five’s company,” you joked. Hendery didn’t laugh or say anything in return, his mouth set in a firm line. He didn’t say anything at all until you reached his room.

His room was at the end of a long corridor filled with doors, it really was a massive house. He opened the door and walked in with you, shutting it behind him, the three guards waiting outside.

He sat you down on his bed that was perfectly made. You stared around his room, all of it neat and tidy, you hadn’t expected otherwise. He had some photos of Lucas and him hanging on the wall and one of him with his parents.

He had an Xbox under the tv and a bowl full of keys to expensive cars, you thought it was funny how the things he liked were such stereotypical boy things.

The one thing in the room that surprised you was his bedside tables. One had a stack of books by the lamp, but the other had a picture of you and him, the one of only a few that existed, taken on one of your visits to his house in order for a press release later on.

Hendery saw you staring at it.

“That one was my favourite, so I told my mother she couldn’t give it to the press, something has to be sacred to our fake marriage.”

The word fake hurt to hear, even if it was true. You really wished you had met Hendery under any other circumstance but this.

“Get some sleep, we can talk in the morning, I’m really sorry all this has happened.” Hendery said, turning to leave. You grabbed his arm softly to stop him.

“Hendery,” you said standing up, “thank you for saving us,” you said with a sad smile, “apart from Jeno you’re the only person to ever save me from an attack.”

Hendery bit his lip,

“Of all the things that I wish made me equal Jeno to you, I really wish it hadn’t been having to save you from being killed,” he said it somewhat jokingly but you knew he had said it in earnest.

You stepped towards Hendery and wrapped your arms around him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I wish we had met in another life, in another way,” you began, your words partly muffled by his shirt against your lips, “I don’t know you well, but I think you are a person I will be proud to marry,” you moved your head back to look up at him.

“I hope you’re right,” he said before wrapping his arms around you in return. You stood like that for a moment longer before Hendery let go.

“Try and sleep,” he said, before leaving, the door shutting softly behind him.

You woke up from nightmare after nightmare through the night. You stared at the photo of you and Hendery in the frame, you looked so happy even if the happiness was fake. You finally fell asleep soundly dreaming of a life in which you and Hendery were truly happy.

*******************

You woke up to the light shining through the gap in the large curtains as you realised you had forgotten to close them properly.

It was your second week in your room at the President’s House and yet you still weren’t used to it. You heard a knock at the door, the repeated nature of which told you it was Chanmi. She had come back to work shortly after being released from hospital even though you had begged her to take a month or so off.

She was unfortunately not a month off type of person. She walked in without waiting for your answer, sighing when she saw you still hadn’t gotten out of bed.

“You know you have your first live TV interview today, get up!” she instructed. You laid back down pulling the duvet back over your head.

You still weren’t really able to think straight all the emotions of the last month were still processing in your mind, you didn’t know how you felt never mind how to pretend to convey how your pretend self felt on national television.

“It’s just one interview, I’m sure Hendery can do all the talking on the attack related questions,” she said clearly trying to cheer you up but you didn’t feel any better. You felt bad that the explanation seemed to rest on Hendery’s shoulders by default, you were sad that you were the cause of the attack and worst of all you knew you had to tell a whole country they shouldn’t attack you because you loved Hendery when that wasn’t really true.

While you had grown closer on that night, you hadn’t properly talked to him since. He was always busy with work, he worked for his father in his free time, training for a high up government position.

You had spoken to him briefly at meals but you really just didn’t know what to say to him, how to talk to him when at the same meals he agreed with everything his father said about politics, most of which you silently disagreed with.

Politics wasn’t everything but in a political marriage it meant a lot.

So you had been left alone with your thoughts mostly, you had gotten a few lessons from the publicity about how to deal with the media and lessons on the countries culture but it wasn’t really anything you hadn’t learned as the ambassadors daughter.

“I’ve thought a lot about what I want to say, I think I can really help if I speak about the attack,” you said to Chanmi. You had spent a lot of this free time thinking, thinking about how to save the political marriage, about how to save everyone around you from the fallout it would cause.

“Well then even better,” Chanmi replied smiling but the apprehension on her face at your words was clear.

So an hour later you found yourself knocking on the door of Hendery’s study.

“Come in,” he called out, you turned the door handle and pushed the door open, “I was just about to come and find you y/n,” he said.

“I was thinking about the interview,” you began, “I know the plan is for you to speak about the incident and ask that people respect me and so on, but I really think it would help if I speak for myself.”

Hendery didn’t say anything which also wasn’t an objection so you continued.

“I agreed to this marriage to avoid conflict, I don’t want to create it, I don’t want to just wait around carrying this weight of the decision I have made without even being able to speak myself on it. I want to take responsibility for the weight of my own actions.”

Hendery stood up from his chair and walked around the desk leaning back to half sit on the front so he wasn’t talking to you from so far away.

“You are braver than I will ever be,” he said, “if you want to speak for yourself then of course you can.”

“I don’t think being responsible for my choices is brave, it’s a requirement to me. You were prepared to take responsibility for our marriage too, I don’t see why you think it’s brave,” you said.

Hendery looked up at the ceiling, twisting his pen back and forth between his fingers.

“I thought if I was going to be responsible for one choice I made in my life it was going to be marrying you.”

“How so?” you asked, taking a seat in the armchair at the side of the room.

“I see how you look at me at dinner when I agree with my father and the atrocious opinions he has. You hide it well but I can tell. I agree with my father even though I know he’s wrong and that’s partly because I didn’t know how wrong he was until he forced this marriage. I realised that he had been manipulating me my whole life. He always used to say the decisions he made were for the best, for the people for me but when he made us get married I finally understood that he was just playing games.”

“Then why do you agree with him still?”

“Maybe I am a coward, maybe I still believe that he wants whats right deep down but I don’t really believe either of those to answers. I just don’t see the benefit in disagreeing with him.” He explained.

“If you did then maybe he would question his own opinions,” you suggested, “hearing it from his own son.”

“His own son who he would marry off just to win a political game. I can’t win against my father but if I obey him I can try and make some good, marrying you will do good in the long term, even if it is part of his game, so that is what I choose to be responsible for because I believe in the power of it.”

You could hear the pain in Hendery’s voice as he spoke but also the determination. You started to understand him a bit more.

“Maybe he wins the short game, but we will win the long game,” you said, Hendery looked about to ask you to elaborate but you didn’t let him, “Interview time,” you got up and opened the door, “time to pretend you love me.”

*******************

You looked in the mirror just before you went to sit next to Hendery on the set, your makeup was perfect, your hair done, you looked amazing. You had gotten rid of the flowery dresses that you loved for this interview though, today you wore a tailored suit, today you were going to show the country you meant business.

You sat down uncomfortably closer to Hendery but you knew it would look weird if you had sat half a foot away.

The interviewer was a woman who didn’t seem to like you very much as she scowled at you but you didn’t let it affect you. You answered all her questions about your ‘love story’ and smiled up at Hendery as you told the gushing details.

“So what do you say to people who disagree with this relationship, clearly after the terrible act of terrorism that occurred at your engagement party it would be better for everyone if you just broke up?”

“We will not be intimidated by haters or people who write mean comments online or even despicable criminals. We love each other and we will get married. We feel our love conveys how it is possible for both our nations to come to love each other also so that senseless violence will no longer occur, to us our love is about more than just us, it is our love for each other yes, but also everyone on both sides of the border.” You answered.

“How lovely,” the reporter said with a fake smile, “well I think we know one way to appease the viewers,” she said.

“And what is that, we would be happy to oblige,” Hendery said, reminding you exactly of all the times you watched him on TV. He was too perfect on TV you found it unnerving now you had started to get to know him.

“a kiss between the happy couple to be,” she grinned. If you hadn’t known it was impossible you would have thought she knew your marriage was fake. You tried not to look alarmed, Hendery didn’t seem to be phased.

“Is that proper?” you asked, trying to see if you could wiggle your way out.

“It’s the twenty-first century I’m sure it’s fine,” the reporter said. Before you could continue to argue Hendery leaned in and placed a quick peck on your lips.

“How sweet,’ the reporter cooed, “that’s all we have time for today, thank you to Hendery and y/n for joining us, see you next Tuesday for an interview with everyone’s favourite chef.”

Your face burned red and when you looked over you saw the same blush come over Hendery’s face just not to the same degree. He thanked the reporter before grabbing your hand and pulling you up. He led you out into the open air where cameras flashed as you walked quickly towards the car.

Hendery wrapped his arm around you pushing past the reports until Jeno could open the car door allowing both of you to climb in. Once they had gotten in the row of seats behind and all the doors were shut you breathed out a large sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Hendery said quickly, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable I just…” You shook your head.

“No its fine, I’m not mad at you I just struggle with the situation as you already know.”

Considering Sicheng, Jeno and the driver were all also in the car neither of you took the conversation any further until you had gotten out of the car and were standing in the empty kitchen drinking water.

“I don’t want you to think I don’t like you,” you said to Hendery, “you’re a really nice person and if we had met under any other circumstance…”

It was Hendery’s turn to shake his head,

“You don’t need to explain.”

“I want to. You told me your feelings earlier I will return the favour.” You took a sip of your water, your mouth feeling dry all of a sudden.

“I always knew I would end up marrying for political advantage, I never let myself like boys, not that I had the chance to meet any, I just thought maybe I would have a pick of three or something.” You stopped yourself, “Sorry again I really don’t mean that as an insult to you.”

“No I get what you’re saying…” he thought for a second, “That wasn’t your first kiss, oh I’m so sorry if it was… live on TV as well.”

You laughed.

“Don’t worry not quite the first, I kissed Jeno once actually a few years ago to see if we had feelings for each other, we realised very quickly we didn’t, we were mostly just bored I guess.”

You knew the same wasn’t true for Hendery, while he wasn’t as bad as Lucas he still had a reputation for girls leaving his hotel room at 3am. While you had abstained from romance all together, he had gone the other way and thrust himself into meaningless sex. You understood his choice even if it wasn’t the one you made.

“So you’ve never had a boyfriend?” Hendery asked, he wasn’t judging he was just curious.

“Nope, I’ve never liked a boy and so maybe that’s why all this with you is a bit harder but it doesn’t mean I’m mad you kissed me, you had no choice and we are engaged after all.”

Hendery took a few steps towards you, putting his drink down on the table. His eyes searching your face.

“Would you be mad if I kissed you now, when I did have a choice?” He asked. You thought about to for a second, while you weren’t in love with Hendery you did find him attractive and he was a caring person and you were going to spend your life married to him. So you made a choice.

“No, I wouldn’t be mad,” you said slowly, your heart beginning to beat faster. Hendery took two more steps forward, he reached over and took your drink out from your hand placing it down on the table.

He smiled,

“I think I like you y/n,” he said, his gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips and before you knew it he was kissing you. Tentatively at first, clearly trying not to overwhelm you but as you began to kiss him back more urgently he followed suit, his hands tangling in your hair as your own arms slid round his waist.

It was different to when you had kissed Jeno, it was so much more enjoyable, you realised that was because you liked Hendery. It felt like your whole body was on fire as his tongue played with yours gently, when he bit down slightly on your lip you let out a soft moan causing your ears to burn red.

But it didn’t dissuade Hendery, instead he smiled into the kiss, before going back to kissing you just as passionately before, pressing you up against the kitchen wall.

A few minutes later he pulled away.

“I think if I don’t stop now we will end up somewhere we don’t wanna go just yet, we do have a lifetime,” he joked, pecking your lips again.

“I think I like you too,” you said to him, your cheeks still red as he beamed at you.

*******************

You started to chat more to Hendery, meeting him in the garden after dinner sometimes, seeing if you were able to hide from Jeno and Sicheng, something you quickly realised was impossible.

You also quickly realised how stressful Hendery’s life was. While your father’s job had isolated you it had never been something you personally had to be involved with. Hendery’s work for his father was hard, especially on top of the university work you still both had, even if the professors were emailing it for safety reasons.

You had arranged to meet Hendery in the garden after lunch but he never arrived. You wondered around the house looking for him, eventually spotting Sicheng standing outside the library.

“Have you seen Hendery?” you enquired, Sicheng nodded his head lightly.

“He’s working in there, I guess he forgot to meet you… I wouldn’t take it personally the President is expecting a lot from him lately.” You truly felt bad for Hendery and how he was treated. All the President expected from you was to learn to sit straight, something you already learned at the age of four. The misogyny of the upper classes.

“Tell him he has to stop working by six, the doctors’ orders,” you said, “tell him to find me in the kitchen!” and before Sicheng could argue you had already raced back down the corridor to sort some things out.

You asked the people who worked in the kitchen where you could find the ingredients to make cookies, the immediately offered to make some for you but you assured them making them yourself was the point.

You stashed the cookie ingredients in the family fridge before racing off again. You had hours to set up your plan but you wanted it to be perfect so you wasted no time. If you weren’t allowed to be involved in state affairs you could at least support your fiancé who was.

Only a few doors down from your room was a little sitting room with a sofa and a tv that was seldom used. In the whole month you had spent in the house you had never seen another person in there.

One of the reasons setting everything up took so long was because you weren’t sure where things in the house were kept. You could have asked someone but you wanted it to be a secret between just you and Hendery.

So when Jeno asked why you were forcing him to run after you like a maniac you refused to give a reason.

You eventually found a cupboard where spare blankets and pillows were kept, chucking as many as possible on top of Jeno whilst picking up just as many yourself.

On the sitting room floor you laid out all the blankets and pillows until it looked as cosy as anything.

Working out how the TV worked was a half hour task in itself, it was so modern you weren’t sure how it worked or how the remote worked but eventually you found Netflix.

Sooner than you expected it you were standing back in the kitchen waiting for Hendery. He arrived not soon after at six-fifteen, his face slightly pale and a tired look on his face.

“Sorry I didn’t come meet you in the garden earlier I was just so busy…” you cut him off, placing a finger over his lips.

“No apologies, just fun relaxing activities,” you explained, pulling the cookie ingredients back out of the fridge.

It turned out neither of you had any clue how to bake but cookies were simple. Flour ended up everywhere and you couldn’t help but think how cute Hendery looked as he smiled, butter smudged on his cheek.

“We have to cook them for ten minutes, so they are still gooey,” you said, going over to the sink and grabbing a cloth, “your face is dirty come here.”

Hendery walked over to you and crouched down slightly so you could clean his face, you chuckled at how cute he was.

“All better,” you said, wiping the butter away, your eyes lingering on his cheek. Hendery caught your gaze and smiled.

“Come here you have something on your cheek too,” he said, you were confused you had checked in the reflection of the oven just a minute ago and there hadn’t been anything.

Hendery leaned in closer to your face before placing a quick kiss on your cheek. Your face blushed slightly pink as Hendery stood up straight again grinning.

“Oh maybe there was nothing there after all,” he said. You shook your head in mock disapproval, saved from your shy embarrassment by the noise of the cooker beeping.

You carefully removed the cookies from the oven and slid them into a bowl. Hendery reached in to take one but you swatted his hand away.

“You will burn yourself if you touch it now, and anyway they are for later.”

Hendery seemed confused. You didn’t bother explaining, you picked up the cookie bowl in one hand and took Hendery’s hand in your other and starting leading him to your blanket extravaganza.

You had gotten some staff to leave actual dinner in the room, you hadn’t been confident enough in either of your skills to make a whole dinner, it probably wouldn’t have had the light-hearted fun vibe you were after if you ended up with raw chicken.

“Pick a Netflix movie,” you said as you settled down into the blankets, eating your food as Hendery found a movie to watch.

By halfway through the film both of you had turned your focus away from eating and solely to the movie. But without the food to think about you began to notice more how close Hendery was sitting next to you.

He seemed to be slowly moving closer and closer to you, his hand resting nearer to yours by the minute. So when the movie reached a slightly scary part you felt no shame and hiding your face in Hendery’s arm.

“You don’t need to be scared,” he said, you glared at him jokingly.

“Says the man who is scared of frogs,” you teased back. Hendery’s mouth opened wide,

“How did you, how, what?” he asked.

“I’ve been asking around about you,” you said in your best attempt to flirt. Your isolated lifestyle hadn’t given you much practise.

“You’re cute,” he observed, looking down at you, taking the opportunity to place his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him, “thank you for doing this,” he said over the sound of the movie playing in the background.

“If you ever need a break just call me up, I’m nonstop fun,” you said, immediately regretting how the statement had come across more sexual than it had in your head. Hendery just grinned.

“But seriously, I can tell your stressed and so if you ever want to talk about how stressed you are or just get things of your chest, I’m willing to listen.”

Hendery sighed lightly. He didn’t speak for a while, his hand fiddling with the corner of one of the blankets, his muscles slightly tensed.

“If… If you would be happier not marrying me, I want you to tell me, I will talk to my father, I will find a way. You’re too kind and beautiful a person y/n to be stuck marrying someone for politics. I want you to be happy.”

His words shocked you but you couldn’t help smiling but not for the reason Hendery thought. You wriggled out from under his arm moving to sit directly in front of him, your legs crossed opposite where he sat, hugging his legs.

“Meeting you has been the one thing that has seemed like real life to me, even if this is an orchestrated marriage, The fact that you would be willing to talk to your father to make me happy, is the exact reason I am willing to try marrying you. Even if there is another way, I still choose this way.”

Hendery still looked conflicted.

“But what if, in the future, you don’t feel the same way, you regret making this choice, choosing me?” he asked.

“While I still don’t consider this marriage a choice, doesn’t mean I wouldn’t chose to date you under different circumstances. And you are correct, I cannot see the future and someday I may not feel how I feel now. But I know two things that are true. One is that your father is unlikely to listen to you no matter what and so this marriage is still necessary. Two, right now the thought of marrying you doesn’t scare me, it makes me somewhat happy, even if the circumstance doesn’t. Even if marriage for us is like dating for others, I chose right now to take responsibility for not even letting you try to convince your father.”

You looked straight into Hendery’s eyes. The hope that you saw appear in his eyes was enough to make you want to cry. This marriage to Hendery, the chance to make you happy, it was his hope, the only hope he felt he had of doing something positive.

Your marriage to Hendery was going to bring good to the world, to his world and your own. You knew that was something to be proud of, you knew that you wanted to love him.

You kissed his lips briefly before pulling away again.

“You should sleep,” you encouraged him, “you are handsome but tired looking.”

“It would be a better sleep if you slept with me,” he joked with a wink. You pushed him lightly on the shoulder.

“Whilst I may have kissed someone before you, I have not shared a bed with a guy before and will not be starting today,’ you asserted. Hendery nodded, getting up,

“Well my door is always open, I’m a great at cuddles.”

He leaned down and kissed your forehead softly.

“Goodnight y/n,” he said, “I will sleep better dreaming of you.”

You blushed in the darkness of the room as he walked away. The man was to charming for his own good.

*******************

You saw it on the news first,

“Breaking story, five tourists from our neighbouring country have been arrested on suspicions of undisclosed crimes, they are currently being held by the state government, a decision that is being viewed with mixed reactions.”

You stood up, your first instinct to go to Hendery’s study and ask him if he knew what was going on.

But when you tried to leave your room you found it looked from the outside, something you hadn’t known was possible. You began to bang on the door, shouting at whoever had locked it on the other side, but to no avail.

You eventually sat back down and turned the news back on, having no other real plan of action. The news revealed that the tourists had supposedly robbed a bank but it was an accusation you were very suspicious of.

You tried ringing Hendery but every time the phone went straight to voicemail and you didn’t bother leaving a message. You tried searching the internet but you didn’t have a 3G signal and the Wi-Fi seemed to be broken.

You rang your mother next to ask if she knew anything, she said that all she knew was that there had been no bank robbery and they were being held as political leverage. You wanted to scream, you picked up the closet item to you, a shoe, and threw it as hard against the wall as possible.

At the same time you heard the lock on the door turn and Sicheng enter,

“Are you all right?” he asked, “I heard a bang.” You couldn’t believe Hendery’s personal guard was the one keeping you locked up.

“Why can’t I leave?” you asked, “Why won’t Hendery pick up my calls?”

“The President doesn’t want to risk the chance you could talk to the press… as for Hendery I don’t know… as soon as he heard what was about to happen he insisted I tell Jeno we swapped guarding duty for the day.”

After seeing you were okay Sicheng left again, locking the door once he was outside. You wanted to believe that Hendery played no role but the changing of the guards so that Jeno couldn’t let you out was suspicious.

A few hours later Sicheng opened the door and passed you some food into the room but you felt too sick to eat. What was the point of the marriage if it didn’t even keep your country people safe.

Finally your phone rang, Hendery was calling you back. You wanted to ignore it out of spite but you knew the situation was more important than that.

“What the fuck Hendery,” was all you said when you picked up.

“I’m sorry,” he replied.

“Don’t be sorry, just explain to me what the actual fuck is going on here.”

“My father will let them go… he just needs your father to agree to one of the more controversial trade terms. I asked him not to do this, I really tried but,”

“You didn’t have to get Sicheng to guard me,” you countered. Hendery paused for a second.

“I… I just don’t want my father to get angry at you, Jeno would have let you leave and then he would have been fired and my father… he would have made life harder for you and your country,” he tried to explain.

“I’m not seven Hendery I can make my own choices. Your choice to ensure I’m locked up means you don’t trust I won’t do anything stupid any more than your father would.”

You were really angry, to an extent you understood Hendery’s motivations, you understood he was trying to help you. Yet you also disagreed with his methods and you were angry he didn’t trust you.

“I’m smart enough to know that talking badly about your father to the press wouldn’t help achieve what we are trying to with this marriage…” you didn’t have the energy to argue with him.

“I’ll send Jeno back,” Hendery said, his voice barely a whisper, “I never want to upset you y/n that will never be my goal, I know your intelligent, probably more so than me. My father is a scary man and I let my fear of him overpower my trust in you and for that I really do apologise.”

“If you look into your own heart, and you find nothing wrong there, what is there to worry about? What is there to fear?” you replied.

“Is it really time to quote Confucius?” Hendery asked. You smiled to yourself.

“I was just proving I really am intelligent, and anyway I mean it, you are a good person Hendery, trust me, yourself, our marriage will outlast your father and then maybe things can change.”

“My closest ally on the advisory board thinks they will release the prisoners tomorrow and call the situation a misunderstanding, just wait until then,”

“Goodnight,” you said before hanging up the phone. You were still angry, but not at Hendery. You had never made a habit of disliking people never mind hating them, but the President was a man you really hated.

The next afternoon at around 4pm the tourists were released and a short statement was made about a cultural misunderstanding. One the President hoped would not be repeated in the future after the joining of the two nations.

You wanted to stab him through the TV, but why waste a perfectly good TV.

You heard a small knock at the door, you thought it was Jeno telling you that you could come out now, roam free, inside the prison of a house.

Instead stood Hendery, eyes as tired as ever, his face as defeated as your own. He said nothing, merely walked over to where you were perched at the end of your bed and sat down.

He opened his mouth to speak but you shook your head.

“Nothing we can say makes it better, so it’s better to say nothing at all,” you said, before wrapping your arms around him and pulling him towards you. For those few minutes where you just hugged him you thought of nothing. You worried about nothing, you just felt the peace that holding him close brought you.

*******************

“You look beautiful,” Jaemin said to you, you think it was the nicest comment he had ever said to you, it was your wedding day after all, “I’m still sad you wouldn’t let me be a bridesmaid.”

You resisted the temptation to chuck some hairpins at him. You hadn’t thought your bodyguards would have looked good in dresses so you had convinced Hendery to make them the other three of his five groomsmen along with Sicheng and Lucas.

“I think Chanmi looks prettier in pink,” you replied, which was only followed by more protests of ‘”she’s wearing blue, not pink,”- a technicality.

Speaking of Chanmi,

“Five minutes,” she called out. You pushed your earrings in, your hands trembling slightly as you got up and saw yourself standing in front of the mirror dressed in white. The gown was beautiful, expensive, everything you could have dreamed of.

You felt so sick. Jeno walked over and grabbed your hand. He was going to walk in front of you the whole way with Chanmi, the male bridesmaid Jaemin wished he could be.

Chanmi held your other hand and squeezed tightly, reassuring you as they led you down the stairs and out to the car in which your father was waiting. Jeno sat in the front as Chanmi gathered up your dress, making sure it all fit in the car before sitting down beside you.

“What a beautiful day for it,” your father remarked. You nodded back but didn’t open your mouth to speak, you thought you would throw up if you did.

The car drove on in silence, you clutched at some vow cards Chanmi had prepared for you. Reaching over and rolling down the window you chucked them out.

“I’ll just wing it,” you said to her horrified glance, but she never let go of your hand.

The car pulled up outside the church moments later, you could hear the low murmur of the guests inside as Jeno opened the door and helped you out.

Sicheng who was waiting by the door for the rest of the groomsmen looked less anxious to see they had actually arrived just in front of you. They headed inside the church as you tried your best not to hyperventilate outside on the church steps.

“Being your best friend has been my honour,” Jeno said to you, leaning down to kiss your cheek. Through your panic you still managed to look up at him confused.

“You will always be my best friend, getting fake married doesn’t change that,” you replied. Jeno held both of your hands,

“You are not getting fake married though, it may not be a marriage of love but it is a real marriage and for that reason I really hope for you, that he becomes your best friend, that he can take my place and support you like I always have. We never loved each other like that but I hope he loves you like that because you will always be my almost sister and I love you. Don’t be afraid, you’re saving a nation, be proud, and love him too,” he said, a tear fell from your cheek, “no crying, someone worked hard on that makeup.”

You let go of his hands and hugged him.

“I love you too almost bro,” you said as the wedding march began to play and some flower girls that you didn’t even know entered through the doors. Chanmi ran over and gave you a quick hug.

“You will rule the world one day y/n,” she laughed as she let go, handing Jeno a bouquet as they both walked in after the flower girls.

Just you and your father were left, you wiped the tear from your cheek and walked over to him, putting a smile on your face. You could tell he was already sad, you didn’t want to make it worse.

“Time to get married,” you whispered, linking your arm with his and staring onwards.

The doors opened and you stared down the aisle in front of you. You saw Jaemin, Renjun and Chenle standing next to Sicheng and Lucas on the stage. You saw the reverend, you saw your mother, Jeno and Chanmi sitting in the front row, you saw the president and his wife sitting on the other side.

Finally your eyes focused on him as you got closer, step by step.

The sickness you had once felt, gone, the moment you locked eyes with him. His eyes held the same trepidation as yours but the shone through the church as he looked at you.

Your father let go of your arm, kissing your check, before you took Hendery’s hands instead.

The reverend read out a whole spiel but you weren’t really listening, you just stared up at Hendery, trying your best to focus on him and not falling over.

“Today, I promise you this: I will laugh with you in times of joy, and comfort you in times of sorrow. I will share in your dreams and support you as you strive to achieve your goals. I will listen to you with compassion and understanding, and speak to you with encouragement. Let us be partners, and friends, today and all of the days that follow,” Hendery said. His words were the first ones you had really heard.

You took a sharp breath inwards realising it was your own turn to speak.

“I had prepared something to say, but I wanted to speak from the heart instead. I promise to do my best to love you and live harmoniously with you as long as we both shall live, to take on the challenges life gives us together. I hope that our marriage can serve as a sign of peace and that the world can feel compassion as deeply as I know you feel it,” you said.

“Do you, y/n y/l/n, take Hendery Wong to be your lawfully wedded husband,” the reverend asked,

“I do,” you replied, your voice thankfully not shaking.

“Do you, Hendery Wong, take y/n y/l/n to be your lawfully wedded wife,”

“I do,” he said, staring down at you with a smile.

“I know pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride,” he said and so Hendery leaned down, kissing you. Only for a few seconds, there were children present, but it was enough to make you blush.

You pulled Hendery into a hug and whispered in his ear,

“I wish I could have chosen to marry you,” you said. Hendery shook his head, still smiling for the crowd.

“I’m feel lucky to get to marry you y/n, whatever the circumstance,” he said, causing you to genuinely smile. Hendery let go from your hug and threw your clasped hands in the air as you walked back down the aisle and out of the church.

The reception was actually quite dull to start off with, you had to greet many political figures, most of whom you didn’t personally know, there was also the ordeal of extended family which hardly ever went well for anyone.

It got a bit better when Lucas and Jaemin got so drunk they started to perform karaoke standing on tables as Chenle cried with laughter watching.

Your first dance with Hendery had been sweet but after that you and Hendery had mostly decided to sit at the side together, exhausted by the whole affair.

By about midnight your head was resting on Hendery’s shoulder as you began to doze off, partly from tiredness, partly from alcohol. Hendery chuckled at how cute you looked.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he said, about to pick you up when you insisted you could walk. Hendery put his arm around your waist, supporting your drunk figure as he lead you to the elevator. You walked along the corridor before he pulled out the key card, letting you both into the presidential suite.

It had two bedrooms and so he walked you towards the bigger one, helping you sit down on the bed.

Chanmi and Sicheng had made sure you both had stuff there and so she had left you a pair of pyjamas to get changed into. Hendery handed them to you and turned around so he didn’t see you getting changed.

“I can’t do the zip,” you complained, tapping Hendery on the shoulder.

“oh yeah right sure,” he said, turning back around and unzipping it for you, blushing when you pulled the dress down before he could turn around again.

“Don’t be silly, we are married,” you said, making fun of him in your drunken haze.

“Doesn’t mean I cant still respect you,” he said, “I’ll go get changed myself and come back in a sec okay?” he said to which you nodded. You took your underwear off and replaced them with the white satin pyjamas Chanmi had left.

Hendery walked back in with a matching pair. You went and brushed your teeth together before Hendery urged you to climb into bed.

“Goodnight, y/n,” he said about to leave before you sat up and stopped him.

“Married couples sleep in the same bed,” you protested.

“You’re drunk, y/n, I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“Snuggling is definitely fine,” you said, something which Hendery struggled to argue with. He put his phone down on the bed side table and shuffled in beside you, wrapping his arms around you.

“I think I could get used to this,” he said, his chin resting on your shoulder. You rolled over to face him.

“You have a good face,” you said. Hendery burst out laughing,

“You’re so cute,”

“Can I kiss you?” you asked.

“So this was your tactic then,” Hendery laughed back, placing a small kiss on your lips, “try and sleep y/n,”

Your face became sad,

“Do you not want to sleep with me?” you asked.

“I’m here, I’m going to sleep right next to you,” he said, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. You shook your head.

“No sleep with me sleep with me,” you clarified, your words slurring together. Hendery’s eyebrows furrowed. When he saw your sad expression through the darkness he smiled slightly, laughing.

“It’s not a question of wanting to, you’re beautiful and I really like you y/n of course I want to do all those things with you, but I’m not having sex with you for the first time when you are drunk, when you can’t give proper consent. Especially for your first time.”

It slowly dawned on you even as drunk as you were that Hendery was much more experienced with relationships than you were, it wouldn’t have been hard.

“You don’t mind that I have never had a boyfriend before, that I have never had sex before,” you said, whispering the latter part.

“You don’t have to whisper it’s not a bad word,” Hendery laughed, “And of course I don’t mind, as I said, I’m fully committed to you and we have the rest of our lives, for now we can just cuddle and sleep okay?”

You seemed satisfied with his answer, falling asleep moments later with his arms around you and waking up the same way nine hours later.

You didn’t feel embarrassed in the morning when you remembered the conversation because Hendery didn’t make it feel like something that was at all embarrassing, he just made you feel calm and safe.

*******************

By that afternoon you were on a flight to a private island, owned by Hendery’s family. His grandfather had owned a brewery there and his own father had worked there before he became president.

Other people lived on the island, local people who would have recognised the two of you and alerted the press with photos.

So before you went to the beach you both put on ridiculously large hats and sunglasses on.

“James Bond has nothing on us,” Hendery remarked as you laughed at his stupid pineapple sunglasses.

“No one would expect the President’s son to dress like this.”

You spent the day on the beach, building a not so impressive sandcastle, jumping through the waves, splashing each other.

Once you had somewhat dried off, Hendery grabbed your hand and led you over to a little ice cream stall where an old man was selling ice cream. Hendery ordered you both one.

“You are a very cute couple,” the man remarked, “is it a special occasion?”

“It’s our honeymoon,” you replied, “we just got married yesterday.”

“Congratulations to both of you,” he said with a smile.

“That’s a rite of passage, isn’t it,” Hendery said as you walked home,

“What is?” you asked,

“Being told we are a cute couple by an older person.”

You giggled as you licked your ice cream,

“I suppose it is.”

You showered after you got back, changing into an outfit Chanmi had packed for you, the dress was lovely, the underwear choices slightly racy.

You walked out onto the patio where Hendery had laid out a fancy table for the two of you. There was a rose in the middle and he held out your chair for you to sit down.

“I have to admit, I didn’t cook the food, I didn’t think that would impress anyone,” he said.

“You don’t need to impress me, I already think you’re great,” you said, sitting down. The food really was good, but you made sure not to drink too much wine to avoid a repeat of the night before.

Your conversation died down comfortably after a while and you both took a moment to stare out at the orchard and the sea that was behind it. You really hoped you and Hendery could move to the island permanently one day. Instead of returning to the Presidential House.

You turned back to see Hendery who was staring at you, a dopey smile on his face.

“I love you,” he blurted out, your heart skipped a beat, “I wanted to say it to you yesterday but I wasn’t sure if you would remember but I love you and I hate my father sometimes but marrying you is the best thing that has happened in my life. We may have married for the sake of international relations but I love you for you.”

You smiled, standing up as he stood up and walking round to stand in front of him.

“I love you too,” you said, “after meeting you I realised I hadn’t really been living real life before, it sounds cliché but you brought colour to my lonely monocoloured life.”

You snaked your arms around his neck, pulling him in to kiss you,

“Will you let me have sex with you know?”

“You don’t know how long I have dreamed of this moment y/n,” he said, staring down at you with love in his eyes,

“The confession of love or the sex?” you joked,

“honestly, both,” he said laughing before bringing his lips back to yours. His lips trailing kisses down your neck before you grabbed his hand and pulled him back inside towards the bedroom.

You barely made it inside the bedroom door before he was kissing you again, your back pressed up against the wall. He gasped slightly when you moved your hands under his shirt, your finger touching his nipple briefly, before pulling off his shirt.

He reacted by unzipping your dress,

“is this okay,” he asked, not pulling it off you until you nodded,

“It’s all okay, Hendery, I want you.” It was all the confirmation he needed. He couldn’t help but admit that it turned him on, being the first and most likely the only man to ever get to touch you like this, now you were married now you were his and he was yours.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said as he unclasped your bra, letting it drop to the floor. One of his hands massaged your breast, the other placed against the wall as your lips met.

Your attention sprung to the growing length underneath his black jeans. You had never seen a dick before in real life.

“Take your jeans off,” you asked him slightly breathless, he was happy to oblige, pulling his jeans off over his legs.

He picked you up bridal style, literally sweeping you off your feet, before placing you back down on the bed,

“As hot as it would be I’m not gonna fuck you for the first time against a wall,” Hendery explained, you nodded,

“Less talking more touching,” you demanded, Hendery grinned a wicked grin.

“That I can do.” Before you knew it he was placing kisses up your thigh, his finger grazing over the top of your soaked panties before pulling them down and throwing them behind him. It was your first time so he knew he had to stretch you first as he inserted a single finger but it was enough to make you let out a sharp moan.

You wriggled slightly in pleasure as he began to pump his finger in and out, before you knew it he had added a second, which was slightly painful at first but at the same time you felt his tongue over your clit, moving in circles and pleasure took over.

“Shit Hendery,” you called out, you could already feel your orgasm building so when Hendery began to move his fingers faster, you let go, your walls clenching around his fingers.

“Such a good girl for me,” he said. You looked up, regaining your sense to see Hendery was still wearing his boxers. A small wet patch had formed at the end of his hard length. You sat up pushing Hendery down.

“My turn,” you said.

“You don’t have to, you know,” Hendery replied.

“But I want to.” You pulled at his waistband, letting his cock spring free. It was slightly bigger than you had imagined and defiantly not as repulsive, in fact the thought of sucking his dick made you wet all over again.

“Tell me how,” you asked him, kneeling down.

“Well start by touching me,” he encouraged, guiding your hand with his own until it was wrapped around the top of his dick, “now slide your hand down and put your mouth where your hand was.”

You leant over and placed your tongue on the tip, licking slightly before putting it into your mouth. Hendery moaned lightly as you began to suck, taking in as much of his dick as possible before moving your mouth back up,

“yeah, fuck, like that,” Hendery groaned.

You tried to take a little bit more into your mouth each time until eventually it caused you to gag slightly, at which Hendery’s dick began to twitch, you kept sucking as his breath quickened and he finally came in your mouth, cum shooting down your throat as you swallowed.

“Jesus,” Hendery said, bringing his lips to yours, the taste of his cum still on your lips, “you are something special y/n,”

He brought his hand down to your folds, checking you were still wet enough for him. He propped himself up with his arms before placing his cock at your entrance.

“Tell me if it hurts, I will go slow, I wont move until you tell me to okay and if you don’t like it we can stop.” He said.

You nodded though you doubted after the first part of the experience that you would want to stop.

When he first pushed in it did hurt, as he moved in and out slowly it stung slightly but with each small thrust the pain was replaced with pleasure. When you finally let out a moan, Hendery started to thrust deeper,

“You’re doing so well for me y/n, you’re so fucking tight,” he hissed, his own pleasure preventing him from talking further.

Neither of you were going to last long and Hendery’s dick was beginning to pulse inside of you.

“I love you,” he managed to say as he came, filling you up with his cum, the feeling of it prompting your own orgasm as you moaned his name loudly.

Hendery kissed your lips softly, hugging you for a moment, before offering to help you clean up, wiping his cum from beneath your legs softly.

“I really do love you y/n,” he said as you both settled back into bed to sleep.”

“I love you too,” you said. What had started out as a sick game between politicians in the name of peace had ended up as something beautiful, as love.

*******************

In the years following life wasn’t always the easiest, the President wasn’t a good man and he made life tough sometimes and you struggled, but you struggled together. You were happy with each other.

You got to know each other more every day and you fell in love more every day. You had two children together and two years after that you renewed your vows in secret with only your children and your closest friends present, to make it clear you did choose to love each other, even if you hadn’t chosen to marry each other.

Ten years later when the President died of a heart attack, came the hardest choice for you both. Most of the country expected Hendery to take over from his father, to become the next leader. He could have, he would have been a brilliant and fair President, but it wasn’t something either of you wanted, you didn’t want the dictatorship to go on. Hendery allowed the people to choose a new president, elections were held for the first time in many years.

Instead of becoming a dictator like his father Hendery moved back to the villa with the orchard with you and your two children. You went to the same beach and built sandcastles with your kids as you had on the first day of your honeymoon.

The orchard where you had both confessed your love was so beautiful. The island didn’t belong to his country or yours. It was on an island that belonged to both of you.

You bought Chanmi and Jeno the house next door, they had gotten married just three years after you, something that had brought you immense happiness. Jeno didn’t guard you anymore but you both lived close enough to watch out for each other, still the closest of friends.

Your children grew up and played together, went to school together. You lived a life that was happy. You had married to bring the world peace but you had also found peace in your heart. Marrying Hendery had once seemed like a cursed fate but really it had been the most blessed fate of all.

You didn’t think people would ever believe such a happy story could come out of an arranged marriage in which the proposal had occurred in the bathroom. It summed up you and Hendery, neither of you knew exactly why you worked but you did. From the day in the bathroom, to the night of the attack, to your marriage to then. You realised you had always seen yourself loving Hendery.

Your love was the only possible outcome.

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