2016 marks both Farkle and Isadora's first year in a relationship. With it, comes their first kiss, first date, and their first fight. Surprisingly, the last experience doesn't stem from one of them beating the other in competition, but rather from an attempt to work together and win together.
Debate carries on as normal, with Isadora regularly crushing Farkle and taking home the prize. Farkle sneaks a few wins past her, usually by pulling some ridiculous argument out of left field. But they take each victory and defeat in stride, using each event as a learning experience to build off of.
The Bug Club remains a relatively neutral zone for their shared scientific exploits, and it's there that they decide to explore a different kind of partnership.
"I was thinking," Farkle says to Isadora at the end of a meeting, "maybe we should work together on the Buggie project."
Isadora stares. "No one's ever worked in a partnership and won."
"Exactly!" Farkle grins widely. "Who better to break a perpetual losing streak than the two brightest minds? Two heads are often better than one."
"Well," Isadora considers this. It would be nice to spend more time with Farkle, and while dates are…more enjoyable than she expected, they lack a certain something that a project like this might fill. It seems promising. And it doesn't help that Farkle's looking at her with those big, pleading eyes. "I think it could work. Let's brainstorm and see if we can get some ideas, and then go from there."
Farkle agrees and they get to work almost immediately.
At first, it's nice to work with someone else. Isadora often finds herself fixated on a particular topic, unable to look into other angles. It makes her a near expert on whatever she chooses to focus on, but it leaves her with gaps, unexplored routes her project could have, sometimes should have, taken. She approaches projects and problems using the scientific method, exhausting each option before beginning to consider a new one.
On the other hand, Farkle approaches research with a controlled chaos that makes Isadora almost uncomfortable. Not even five minutes into their brainstorming, he's written down twenty potential routes for their project to take and has at least fifteen tabs open in his Internet browser. He's got one earbud in, half tuned in to a video, while reading an article on something entirely different in another window. All while taking scribbled notes she can barely parse through.
It's exhausting to watch, but when they come together to go over their ideas an hour later, Isadora finds that her research pales in comparison to Farkle's at least in scope. She loves the way he links different ideas and theories together, seeing connections she wouldn't have seen without far more research. And yet, he defers to her expertise on the far more concise, deep research she's done. It's nice, she thinks, to have someone so willing, so eager, to bounce ideas off of. And in the end, they choose to infuse one of her ideas with his, linking them together to create something new, something stronger.
(She doesn't tell him, unsure how to phrase the feelings this gives her, but it reminds her of their relationship, how they bring the best out of each other, how they constantly work to make the other a better, more rounded person.)
Unfortunately, the feeling is short lived. They meet up the following day to begin the project in full-force, and it falls apart almost immediately, at least to Isadora.
Farkle's controlled chaos approach apparently applies to every facet of a project. He comes over to her apartment with a stack of scribbled, almost alien notes. There's no filing, no order, and he shuffles through his stack, pulling at papers almost at random to find the one related to his current thought. Within fifteen minutes, Isadora finds herself reaching for her fidget, the motions calming her fraying nerves a little, just enough to keep going.
By the half hour mark, Isadora can feel herself shutting down. The stimulation, the sheer amount of information Farkle's trying to relay is too much for her. Slowly, the room seems to almost blur a bit. Farkle's voice seems further away, like he's across the room rather than right next to her. She focuses harder on her fidget and chews at the inside of her mouth, trying to ground herself.
Farkle finally notices her lack of input and looks over.
"Hey," he starts slowly, eyebrows furrowed in concern, "are you alright?" When he gets no reply, he starts again. "Isadora, do you want to take a break? We can do something else, or I can go home if you want."
From the corner of her eye, Isadora watches Farkle reach a hand out slowly, tentatively. She shoves his hand away, just as it's about to reach her arm.
"I'm fine, Farkle." It comes out colder than she wants, but that's nothing unusual. She pretends she doesn't notice Farkle flinch at her tone. "I just…zoned out for a second. Please, continue."
Farkle gives her a funny look, but starts again, and Isadora forces herself to engage more, interject more, try to direct the flow of the conversation. It's exhausting, but it works. She makes it through the rest of their session, and she knows they've gotten a fair amount of work done.
They part ways and agree to meet up again in a few days to compare work.
When they meet up again, Isadora's determined not to lose it again. Farkle has an amazing idea, she knows it. But he's not really explaining to clear enough. Isadora can't quite make the connections that Farkle has already pieced together with time and research, and it's frustrating. She makes it an hour this time until the world starts going fuzzy and her anxiety hits a boiling point. Farkle's voice fades out to a hum in the background. By the time she realizes she's shutting down, Farkle looks ready to leave. It's enough to jolt her back into the present, at least enough to ask him why he's putting his things away.
He runs his fingers through his hair before tightening his fingers around the strands. "I can't do this anymore!"
Isadora blinks at her boyfriend's sudden outburst. She stares until he continues.
"This isn't working." For a split second, Isadora's heart races in her chest, worried that he's about to break up with her. Her brain takes control again, however, and she realizes he means the project, their partnership.
"What do you mean? The project is moving ahead as planned"
"Sure, but I can't work with someone who doesn't respect my input!"
"I'm perfectly fine with your input, Farkle. If you don't like the way I show it, then that's on you," she says testily.
"On me? On me? Seriously? You never give me anything to work with! I feel like I'm talking to a brick wall half the time! You just," Farkle pauses, trying to find the right words, "you sit there and stare at me until I think there's something wrong with you. And then you dismiss me when I ask if you're okay! If my ideas are so boring you'd rather daydream, then let me know. I'll try to be more interesting next time." His tone is pure sarcasm by the end of his little speech, and Isadora's not sure how to continue, so she doesn't, trying to gather her thoughts.
It sets Farkle off again. "See! You won't even talk to me now! You don't even care that we're fighting!"
Isadora's quiet for a minute, willing herself to stay in this moment.
"I do care," she says quietly. "I care. I just…don't know how to show it. You have all these ideas, and I know they're brilliant; they are coming from you, of course they are. But there's just so much for me to focus on. You jump from idea to idea, and they're all amazing, but I can't always keep up. My brain may be brilliant, but it…runs a little differently than yours."
Farkle's face softens. "I didn't even think about that. I should have. I've done so much research, I've read a ton of articles and books, I didn't even think." Farkle's babbling now, and Isadora cuts him off while she still can.
"Farkle, you couldn't have known. Research on something like this won't tell you everything. Asperger's affects everyone in different ways. And it's not just that; I just prefer a little more...order? All that jumping, all that chaos, it works for you. It makes sense. They're your thoughts, of course all of it makes sense to you. But even when I know there's a method to it, it doesn't work for me. I feel like we're on two different pages and I can't always connect."
They're both silent, trying to process what Isadora just put out there.
"Maybe," Farkle begins slowly, "maybe we shouldn't work together." At Isadora's confused expression, Farkle continues. "I mean, maybe we should, I don't know, break into two projects and try again?"
Isadora considers this. "It's probably for the best. But, I really did like the way we bounced ideas off one another." She feels almost shy admitting this.
Farkle nods. "It was nice to get another perspective on things. Perhaps we could be advisors to one another? We can discuss our research, share some ideas, but continue separately."
The brown haired girl nods and puts a hand out to her boyfriend. Farkle takes hold of it and gives it a firm shake, before slowly pulling her into a hug. The easy way Isadora finds herself sinking into it surprises her, but it's too nice for her to question right now.
In the end, the choice to end their partnership is works out for the best. They still manage to discuss their work and research, getting together once a week to exclusively share their ideas. Neither ever quite shares the specifics of their projects, the competitive spirit they both share preventing both them from offering their opponent too much insight.
It's good for both of them. Isadora helps Farkle organize his thoughts and spend more time on a single train of thought. He helps her think outside the box and explore the fringe ideas she generally dismisses. Sometimes they work parallel, and Farkle pays more attention to her than his own work. When he sees her get overwhelmed, when he sees her start to shut down or dissociate, he's there to help. He takes breaks in his research to let her ramble about something, listening patiently until she's finished and they can both get back to work. She micromanages for the both of them, laying out charts and schedules, guidelines to when certain deadlines have to be met and the requirements for each aspect of the project. Isadora knows the details often trip Farkle up, knows that he sometimes scrambles to finish something because he's forgotten a due date or requirement. Together, they work smarter.
As the project deadline approaches, Farkle and Isadora both find their projects to be well beyond their expectations, far better than anything they've attempted before. Their rivalry picks up again, and she knows their friends find the way the couple mock and insult each other's work confusing. But, it's friendly at the core, and it makes them work harder, faster, better.
In fact, each week starts to feel like a miniature contest. Some weeks, she outshines him, completing a major hurdle in her progress that sends her ahead of him. Others, he presents some new idea he's been musing on that sends her into a frenzy of new research. She hates the feeling she gets when she finds out Farkle's ahead of her, and she knows he feels the same.
When Isadora wins the Buggie they're both viying for a few months later, there are no hard feelings. Farkle kisses her cheek before she heads up to the stage, blushing. He claps for her with an intensity that outshines even her parents. From the stage, she can see the pride in the smile on his face, and it's a look Isadora could get used to. In that moment, she knows that they both know they've done the best they can do. Isadora (and everyone else) knows for certain that, if Farkle has to lose to someone, he's happy to lose to her.
And besides, there's always next year, and who knows what that might bring.