A Note From Ben: This story is a bit funny as far as continuity with canon. Everything up to 2x18 is part of the back story, but after that it gets a bit smudged. Part of 2x19 is mentioned briefly in this chapter, but branches into AU soon after. Nothing after the beginning of 2x19 applies in this story, so it can be assumed that the car accident that might or might not have killed one of the kids never happened.
Also, because this is formatted as if you were actually watching it, music is a big part of the experience. I have included a song list at the beginning of every chapter so that you can cue up the needed songs and listen as you go along. At a later point, I will create a YouTube playlist with the songs and put a link on my profile.
Each chapter will be divided into nine sections of 1000 words. Because each chapter will be 9000 words or more, I cannot promise rapid fire updates. Every couple of weeks is my goal.
As The World Falls Down
by Ben Barrett
As the pain sweeps through
Makes no sense for you
Every thrill has gone
Wasn't too much fun at all
But I'll be there for you
As the world falls down
-As The World Falls Down, David Bowie
Episode One – Californication
Song List and Credits
As The World Falls Down
Songwriters: David Bowie
Published by: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, TINTORETTO MUSIC, SPIRIT MUSIC GROUP
Californication
Songwriters: Michael 'Flea' Balzary; Chad Gaylord Smith; Anthony Kiedis; John Frusciante
Published by: MOEBETOBLAME MUSIC
Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word
Songwriters: Elton John, Bernie Taupin
Published by: Universal Music Publishing Group
Scene One
We open on the city of San Diego, the crown jewel of southern California. It glitters in the early light as the morning sun breaks the horizon behind it and the opening notes of "Californication" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers begins to play. San Diego has a rich history, dating all the way back to the 1500s, but we don't have time to go into all of that at the moment. We are far too busy, and if we get too distracted, the music will play all the way through as we sit here staring at the skyline.
As the distinctive voice of Anthony Kiedis begins to fill our ears, we cycle through various shots of busy commuters on their morning routines. They walk in large crowds, identities lost among sheer numbers. Their movement starts slow, in half speed, then radically shifts to double speed. With the first instrumental solo, we shift to traffic jams. Machines designed for convenience sit in most inconvenient groups, much like the herds of humanity going it on foot. No matter your means of commuting, there is no getting over the massive crowds in a city of over one million people.
Anthony begins singing again, and we cycle through various shots with each line.
It's the edge of the world
And all of western civilization.
Here, we see an end times preacher with a cross around his neck waving a Bible and screaming at the crowds that they're all going to hell.
The sun may rise in the east;
at least it settles in a final location.
This is the beach, where people with leisure time walk along the sands or ride surfboards through the waves. A surfer fails to keep his balance on a particularly large swell of water and wipes out in glorious fashion. He disappears below the surface.
It's understood that Hollywood
sells Californication.
Here is a prostitute speaking to an overweight businessman through the window of his Mercedes. He takes a cautious look around and beckons her inside.
We now shift focus to another herd of people. As the chorus approaches, we cut to closer and closer shots. The first is distant, a group of people indistinguishable from each other. Then we're closer, and we can begin to see more intricate details. A man in an expensive suit talks on an equally expensive cell phone and carries a briefcase; a woman in a Chanel dress carries what we can only assume to be her portfolio. Is she perhaps headed to an interview? Now we're closer still, and by now we can determine that we're honing in on one face in particular: a lonely looking man with short hair and a frown. Look around him. Is that Rosie O'Donnell beside him? Probably a coincidence; Rosie probably doesn't take casual strolls through downtown San Diego.
The man is now so close we can make out the slight pockmark scars of his face, in all likelihood the result of teenage acne. This is Connor, someone you will become comfortable with quite soon. We're going to follow him through his commute as Anthony encourages us to "Dream of Californication." We dissolve to him at a rail station; sitting silently on a light rail train, hands clasped in front of him; walking through a business district as the train he has just departed passes him by on his left. Through all of this, we never see him smile or show any interest in anything. He stares vacantly toward the camera, his mind a thousand miles away. We can only wonder at the present time what weighs so heavily upon him and why he looks like he hasn't a friend in the world.
As the chorus comes to an end and the music fades away, Connor enters a shop called Bazra's Sports. He sighs as he stares at the sporting equipment around him, which is everything one would expect to find in a place like this; volleyballs, soccer balls (or footballs, outside of 'Murica), athletic supporters, and a rack of expensive baseball bats. He looks sadly at the bats, some memory from long ago causing his frown to deepen.
"Stee-vons!" a voice with a thick Middle Eastern accent calls. He turns and looks, as do we, toward a thirty-something dark skinned man who is charging toward Connor, a scowl on his face. "You are late again. Do you think this is a joke?"
"No, sir," Connor says, his face still a stone mask. His boss is not intimidating him at all. "I'm sorry, Bazra."
"If you don't want a job, you don't have to have one," Bazra says, jamming a finger into his chest. "I hired you because I respect the hell out of your father, but do not test me. Where I come from, people are taught to value employment and hard work! This would not be tolerated!"
"I'm sorry, sir," Connor says with a resigned sigh. He's heard all of this before. "It won't happen again. Even though I didn't grow up in Iraq, I know the value of hard work. I-"
"You arrogant little shit!" Bazra snaps. "I'm not from Iraq! I am from Pakistan, and I know I've told you ten times already. Now, keep pressing my buttons and I will see you replaced. Clock in and get to work and don't slip again."
"Yes sir."
Connor walks off and we watch from behind him. We cut to a shot of Bazra, shaking his head. Another man about Connor's age joins him and looks out of sight, toward where Connor disappeared.
"More problems with Stevens?" the new man asks.
"Stupid boy," he says. "Always hanging his head like he wants to swallow a gun barrel. Why can't more white Americans be like you, Andrew? You are loyal and hard working, a fine employee."
Andrew gives a smug grin that he tries to disguise as humble. It's clear already that Andrew is an obnoxious, pompous piece of shit, though we've only just met him.
"I'm just happy to do my job, sir."
We rejoin Connor at an old-fashioned time clock. Apparently, Bazra is either behind the times or an incredible cheapskate (we probably wouldn't be wrong in assuming the latter). It is one of those models with an actual glassed-over rotary clock and a small opening to slide in a card. If the person doesn't do this with absolute precision, the time stamp is likely to be in the wrong punch slot or printed between the line dividers. Connor, it seems, has not yet gotten the hang of doing it, because he is trying to position his card with painstaking care, sliding it partway in and then taking it out multiple times.
A young girl of about twenty walks up behind him. She has long blonde hair tied back in a tail that hangs down to the center of her spine and sparkling blue eyes. She regards Connor with a mix of pity and frustration.
"You're going to get fired, you know," she says. "Bazra is getting tired of seeing you come in late all the time."
"Thanks for the heads up, Emma," he replies, frigid. "I didn't figure that out when he was chewing me a new one."
"Come on, Stevens," she says. "I'm not your enemy. I'm probably the only friend you've got here. I'm only trying to help."
Connor finally manages to punch his card and returns it to the metal card holder.
"Yeah, you and my parents and my therapist," he shoots back. "I keep telling everyone I'm fine. I wish they would just accept that and leave me alone."
He walks off, leaving her standing by the clock with a frown on her face.
Flashback 1A
We cut to a school that sits by the beach, the kind of place a lot of people wish they'd received their education. This is Anchor Beach, a posh charter school founded in 1993. Because of its excellent reputation and desirable location, the waiting list for admission is rather long.
As we enter the scene, students stand by the water or sit at the nearby lunch tables. Some pass us by and enter the far doors on their way to class. Approaching us from several yards away is a boy with messy brown hair and a frown on his face. This is Jude, a precocious thirteen year old that we will come to know very well throughout this tale. We can see by the look in his eyes as he gets closer that there is something weighing heavily on his mind. He sighs as he gets close to us and we begin backing up to track his movements.
"Hey, wait up!" a voice calls from out of sight. Jude turns and we see a younger version of Connor rushing to meet him. "Wait, Jude!"
"What is it, Connor?" he says. "I don't have time to talk. I'm gonna be late."
"How have you been?" Connor asks.
"Good, I guess," Jude replies. He looks towards whatever lies behind us and back toward the far door into the school. He is anxious to get away, but doesn't want to be rude. "You?"
"My dad has been all over me after what happened," Connor says.
"Can we not talk about that, please?" Jude asks, hoisting his backpack back onto his left shoulder. "Look, I have to go. I-"
"Can we hang out later?" Connor asks, cutting him off.
Jude looks away, avoiding his gaze.
"I don't think that's a good idea," he says. He turns and walks toward us. We continue tracking him.
"It wasn't my fault, Jude!" Connor calls from behind him. "Please, you have to believe me!"
Jude stops. He doesn't reply or turn back to his friend.
"It just happened, okay?" Connor presses. His holds his hands out, almost pleading. "I didn't mean for it to happen, but it did."
At this, Jude turns back. We change angles so that we can see his face.
"Things like that don't just happen, Connor," Jude shoots back. He's angry now. "I've been trying to forget about it, but I can't."
Connor approaches. They're close now. We see Connor's face, and the back of Jude's head closer in the frame.
"Can we still be friends?" Connor asks. "I mean, even if we can't ever be anything else again, can we be friends?"
Jude sighs. We reverse so that it is Jude's face in frame.
"I don't think so," Jude replies. From nearby, the bell rings, signaling the beginning of class. He looks back over his shoulder in dismay. "I don't think we should hang out anymore, Connor. And I really have to get to class. I'm late."
We cut to a side shot of the two of them as Jude walks off to the left, out of sight. Connor watches him go in dismay.
Let us zoom up away from Connor, high above the school. The sun sits slightly off-center, marking the one o'clock hour. As we watch, the clouds begin to roll by in a time lapse and the sun sinks lower. We fall back to the school, this time the front of the building, as the final bell rings. Students begin filing out of the building, chatting among themselves about their plans for the weekend, the upcoming big assignment, who broke up with who. We can't make out anything distinct, but let's keep watching. From the crowd Jude appears, carrying his bag and looking as he did the last time we saw him: heavy of mind and heart.
He makes his way down the walk and Connor falls in beside him. They walk together without speaking or acknowledging each other. Connor's eyes dart to Jude every now and then, but Jude does not do the same; he keeps staring forward as if Connor is not there. When they are close to the edge of the property, Connor speaks.
"Mind if I walk with you until we reach my street?"
"Nobody is stopping you, Connor."
They walk off the property and down the street. We switch to a view of them from the side as they make their way down the sidewalk. As they stroll past a two-story house with a white picket fence, Connor looks at Jude.
"Do you really think that we can never be friends again?" he asks.
"I don't see how," Jude replies. "When it happened... Well, it's hard to forget about."
"Can we at least talk about it?" Connor asks.
We cut to the two of them from the front. We track their movements as they talk. At an intersection a block behind them, a pedestrian with a Saint Bernard on a leash slowly makes her way to the left.
"What is there to talk about?" Jude says. "It happened, and now we both have to live with it. It's not something an apology will fix."
"Can I try?" Connor suggests. "I know it bothers you, and it bothers me, too, because it was my fault. That's why I'm trying to make it right, okay?"
They come upon another intersection. Jude looks to the left and then at Connor.
"This is your turn."
It is a dismissal, and Jude starts to walk away. Connor jumps in front of him, his hands out. We see him from behind Jude.
"Wait," he says. "Please? Just give me an hour. One hour. If you still don't want to be friends after that, I'll never bother you again."
Jude gives him a scrutinizing look, debating the pros and cons of the proposition.
"Do you promise?" Jude asks. "Never again?"
"Never again."
Jude nods.
"Okay."
Scene Two
We return to the present and an adult Connor slouched upon the couch in his living room. He is still wearing his work shirt, though it is now untucked. He takes a large bottle of Mountain Dew from the side table, untwists the cap and takes a large drink. He gives a satisfied sigh, screws the cap back on and returns the bottle to the table.
His eye catches something just out of frame. We pull back slightly and see a gold colored picture frame. The picture itself is facing away from us, so we can only see the stand keeping it upright. He picks it up and looks at it, a smile forming across his face. It is the first time we've seen him smile since this story started, but it is short-lived. It fades into a look of terrible sadness, and he places the frame on the coffee table once again. Throughout this, we have not been given a chance to see what the picture is, and no doubt many of us are curious by now. Still, we will have to wait, as someone is knocking upon Connor's front door.
He looks up, surprised, and rises from his seat. We allow him to walk past us and turn to follow him. His door is a heavy wooden behemoth with three locks but no peep hole.
"Who is it?" he calls through the wood.
"It's Stef and Lena, Connor," a female voice calls from the other side. "Can we talk to you?"
Connor hesitates a minute, then slowly disengages all three locks. We move closer and look over his shoulder as he pulls the door open. On the other side stand a pole-thin African American woman and a Caucasian woman, both of whom look tough as nails. The Caucasian is Stef, a gritty police officer who has taken more than one bullet in the line of duty. The African American maypole is Lena, the Vice Principal of the school we saw in the previous flashback. A happily married lesbian couple, the two of them are the only real parents Jude has ever known.
"It's been a long time," Connor says, embracing them both.
"Too long," Lena replies as Connor ushers them into the apartment. "How have you been?"
"Doing my best."
We back up to give them room (though they'd never know we were actually here). They walk past us and we turn to watch. Stef and Lena sit side-by-side upon the couch and Connor takes a seat in a nearby recliner that looks like it was probably old when Reagan was shot.
"Can I get the two of you anything?" Connor asks. "Anything at all?"
"A glass of water would be wonderful," Stef says.
"Same for me," Lena agrees.
Connor makes his way out of sight, but we do not follow him this time. We hear him speaking and bustling around the kitchen.
"So what brings you to my part of town?" he asks. Cabinet opens and closes. Stef nudges Lena and motions to the picture frame on the coffee table. She picks it up and they look at it together, their faces sad.
"Nothing social, I'm afraid," Lena says, taking the photo.
"Oh?" Connor replies. The sink begins running. Water filling a glass.
Stef takes the photo back from Lena and places it where they found it as the sound of running water ceases. Connor returns holding two clear glasses of water with lemon wedges perched on the rims.
"Thank you," Lena says as she takes a small sip.
"Connor," Stef begins with a sigh. "We've come to you for help."
Connor retrieves his bottle of Mountain Dew and sits in his recliner. As they converse, we will switch shots back and forth between them, some closer than others but never at an angle that allows us to see the picture in the frame.
"I'll do whatever I can," he says. "Although if it's financial, I dunno if I can help. Between you and me, I'm broke."
He smiles slightly and the ladies across from him return it indulgently.
"No, it's not money," Lena says. "It's Jude."
Connor's face goes white and the concern on his face is as easy to read as a stop sign.
"What's wrong with Jude?" he asks, leaning forward. In his hands is the now-forgotten bottle of soda. "What happened? Is he hurt?"
"No, no," Stef says. "Not hurt. Not yet. He's just... lost, I guess you could say."
Connor looks confused and begins wringing his hands.
"I don't understand. What does that mean?"
Stef and Lena exchange a glance, then Lena says:
"After the two of you, um, parted company, Jude got really depressed. We took him to a therapist, and he was put on antidepressants. He grew more distant throughout high school, only speaking to us when he had to. We knew he was barely keeping it together, but we couldn't do anything to reach him."
"As soon as he graduated," Stef says, placing her half-empty glass of water on the table, "he left home and started drinking a lot and abusing his medication."
"That doesn't sound like Jude," Connor replies. "He's smarter than that."
"Sweetheart," Lena said, "even the smartest people will break when the pressure gets to be too much. He's been hurting for a long time, and he got tired of feeling broken. So he does the only thing that helps him feel better."
Connor rises from his chair and begins pacing behind it.
"What about rehab?" he asks. He turns to Stef. "You're a cop. Can't you arrest him for using drugs or something?"
"I could if they weren't prescribed to him," she replies. "And we've tried putting him in rehab. Three times. We told him he needed to clean himself up or we'd have to stop helping him. Now he doesn't call us but once every few months for five minutes at a time."
"Damn," Connor says. He stands leaning against the back of the chair, his palms pressed against the headrest. He hangs his head. "I can't believe one bad decision led to all of this."
There is silence then. The only sounds we hear are the ticking of the clock on the wall and little children playing somewhere outside.
"So what do you want me to do?" Connor asks. "If you can't help him and the medicine and therapists and trips to rehab couldn't help him, what difference can I make?"
Stef and Lena rise from the couch.
"We were hoping you could try and patch things up with him," Stef says. "This all started when-"
"When it happened, I know," Connor interrupts.
"Can you at least try?" Lena asks. "We wouldn't come to you if we weren't out of options."
Connor sighs and looks at them. In their eyes is desperation, agony, heartbreak. There is but a small glimmer of hope there, and the expression on his face shows us that he knows that, should he refuse them, that last remnant of hope for their beloved son will die.
Flashback 1B
We cut to the past again, this time in Jude's bedroom. It is everything you would expect a boy's room to be. There are video games, electronics, dirty clothes and a Star Wars poster on the wall above the bed. Jude sits upon this bed, looking over at Connor, who sits in a folding chair. There was a time before this that Jude would have allowed Connor full access to his bed, and the two of them had spent many hours there playing mobile games on Jude's tablet or talking about their troubles. This is clearly no longer the case.
"You wanted a chance to talk it over, so let's talk," Jude says.
"I just don't understand why you won't forgive me," Connor replies. "Haven't we been through enough hell together to make it worth trying?"
"It's not about forgiveness, Connor," Jude replies. "It never has been. It's about trust."
"Trust?" Connor retorts. "You don't trust me?"
"Not anymore," Jude says. He crosses his arms. "Probably never again."
"That's not fair," Connor replies. He rises from the chair. "Haven't I proven to you that I can be trusted? Look, right there!"
He points to a spot on the floor near the bed.
"It was right there you told me you didn't get me!"
Flash!
Jude is on the floor with Connor in front of him.
"You kissed me, remember?" Jude says.
Flash!
"That's what you said," Connor exclaims. "You kissed me..."
Flash!
"In the tent? And then at the movies you held my hand. I just... I don't get this. I don't get you."
Flash!
Connor is gesturing at the floor.
"You thought I was playing with you then," he said. "I proved you wrong!"
Flash!
Jude and Connor still on the floor. Connor looks at Jude with a tortured expression, then leans forward and kisses him. Jude returns the kiss, but pulls away after mere seconds and they look at each other, unsure of what to do next.
Flash!
"But that's different!" Jude says.
"Why is it different?"
"I-"
We cut to a shot of the bedroom door as it flies open. A girl of about seventeen with brown hair and a round face stands there. This is Jude's half-sister Callie, who has protected Jude his entire life. After their mother was killed and Jude's father went to jail, Jude and Callie entered the foster system, where she made it her personal mission to shield her kid brother from the evils of the world. Because of this, even after Jude was officially adopted by Lena and Stef, Callie still insisted on playing mother figure.
It is this motherly protectiveness that is causing Callie to glare at Connor like she could cut out his kidneys and eat them in a pie.
"You!" she says.
"Callie," Jude cuts in, "would you mind-"
"Yes, I would," she says. "Connor, please go wait in the hallway while I have a word with my brother."
"I've got this under control, Callie," Jude insists.
"Connor, out!"
Connor looks at Jude, who shrugs. He walks past Callie, who continues to glare at him until he closes the door behind him. We cut to Connor standing outside the door. Inside, we can hear Callie and Jude arguing.
"Don't you ever learn anything, Jude?"
"Why can't you just mind your own business?"
"Anything that could hurt you is my business!"
"Connor isn't going to hurt me!"
"He already has!"
Stef walks into view and stands in front of Connor.
"Step over here to the side with me," she says. "We need to talk."
They walk away and we follow them. The argument fades behind us as we approach the stairs.
"So Callie hates me now?" Connor asks.
"Listen," Stef says, turning to face Connor, "It's nothing personal. Callie is just protective of Jude."
"She thinks she needs to protect him from me?" Connor replies, aghast.
"It's the result of a lifetime in foster care," Stef answers. "For most of Jude's life, she was the only one keeping Jude from being beaten or picked on or molested. Anything that she perceived as a threat she did her best to shield Jude from it. Now you're a threat."
"Because of what happened," Connor said.
"Because of what happened," Stef agreed. "But it's not just that. Since Jude met you, he's done things that have been questionable. Vandalizing houses, talking back to his sister, getting in trouble. Then there was that incident in the tent."
"I-"
"I know the two of you are just kids," Stef says, talking over him. "I know that kids do stupid things. I get that. I was a kid once myself, believe it or not. You aren't intentionally trying to get Jude in trouble, but it's still happening. That's why she's in there screaming at him."
A tall, thin boy of about eighteen walks up the stairs and sees them there. This is Brandon, who was born during Stef's marriage to her ex-husband. Thus Brandon is the only child in the house actually related by blood to either Stef or Lena.
"Everything okay?" he asks, looking with concern down the hall where the screaming match between Callie and Jude can still be heard.
"Fine, sweetheart," Stef replies. "I would advise not getting involved. You'd be safer down in the kitchen helping your mom with the chicken."
"Hint taken," he says, raising his hands. "I'll just get my algebra book and make myself scarce."
Stef smiles at him as he moves out of sight. We hear his bedroom door open, a rustling of paper, then the door closes. He walks back through with his book under his arm and vanishes down the stairs.
"I can take Callie being mad at me," Connor tells Stef when they're alone again. "But when is Jude going to forgive me? I can't stand having him so mad at me."
Stef sighs.
"It may be a long time before he can move past what happened," she says. "It really shook his faith in you."
"I didn't mean for it to happen!" Connor moans.
"I know," Stef says. "And that's why facing the possibility that your relationship with Jude is damaged beyond repair is going to be so hard."
The bedroom door flies open. We cut to it as Jude storms out with Callie right behind him.
"I'm not done talking to you yet, Jude!" she calls. "Come back!"
"I'm done listening!" Jude retorts.
We follow him as he storms down the hall. He stops and looks at Stef and Connor, an angry expression on his face. Before either of them can say anything, he turns and walks down the stairs.
Scene Three
We return to the present with a long shot of a dilapidated apartment building in a low-income neighborhood. Several of the windows are broken, the entrance door is hanging by one hinge, and several unsavory characters linger outside. We cut to a closer view as Connor approaches. Aforementioned unsavory characters give him the stank eye as he walks by, and he tenses. He tries not to make eye contact or give them any reason to harass him, and soon he is past them. One whistles after him and tells him he's got a purty mouth. The others laugh. He gulps and feels his stomach clench. He breathes a sigh of relief as he enters the building.
The inside is dim and dirty. Connor looks around the squalor in dismay. Does his childhood best friend really live in such disparity?
He walks to the end of the hall and stops at a door labeled 1F. He takes a deep breath, gives three firm raps and waits. There is a sound inside of rustling paper, rattling cans. Then a voice calls out:
"What is it? I'm paid through the end of the month! If you're here to bleed more out of me, you can fuck yourself, you greedy ass pig!"
"Jude?" Connor calls. "Jude, is that really you?"
The door slowly creaks open. Before us is a sad shadow of the young boy we've already seen. He is thin and haggard, with several days of facial hair growth. He wears ripped and dirty jeans and a stained white T-shirt. The bags under his eyes are dark, and he scrutinizes Connor with coldness and irritation.
"What are you doing here, Connor?" he asks.
"I heard some stuff about you," Connor replies, scuffing his foot against the floor. "I was concerned."
Jude scoffs.
"Heard some stuff, huh?" he retorts. "What kind of stuff did you hear, I wonder? And from whom? Was it my moms? Or was it my nosy sister?"
He brings a can of beer to his lips and takes a long drink. Pabst Blue Ribbon. Ghetto beer.
"Callie always did have a problem minding her own business."
"It wasn't Callie."
"Whatever," Jude says, taking another drink.
"What happened to you, Jude?" Connor asks. "The kid I knew never would have lived like this."
There is a flash of anger in Jude's eyes and his jaw tightens.
"The kid you knew?" Jude replies. "Are you stupid or just delusional? What made you think you'd come here and find the kid you knew?"
"I'm sorry," Connor says. "I didn't mean it like that. You were always so mature, that's all. It's hard to see you like this."
"Who the hell do you think you are, Connor? Coming to my house and passing judgment on me and then pointing out that I don't act like I did when I was thirteen? Where the hell have you been? Where were you all these years, asshole?"
Connor does not allow his voice to rise. He stares back at Jude with pity and compassion.
"Right where you told me to stay," he says. "At a distance."
"Perhaps you should have stayed there, then," Jude says. He drains the can of beer and tries to smash the can against his head. He fails at this and only succeeds in hitting himself. He swears and crushes it in his fist and tosses it at Connor's forehead. It bounces off and thuds against the dirty carpet. "You should have stayed there, because I sure as hell don't need you here now."
He slams the door in Connor's face.
Connor puts his forehead against the door and sighs.
"Let me help you, Jude," Connor calls. "Please. You never had to go through this alone. Don't you realize that? You don't need the shit you're on. We can fix it!"
The door flies open and Jude pulls him inside. The interior is as dim and dirty as the hallway. The floor is littered with old mail, trash and empty beer cans. We cut to a close side shot of Jude speaking directly into Connor's face. Connor looks unnerved.
"Look here, asshole," he hisses. "Don't stand in this building and shout about how we can fix shit. Don't let other people here you say things they could see as gay. Not here. Not ever. Some of these people are dangerous."
"I'm sorry," Connor whispers.
"Yeah," Jude growls. "You're always sorry. Sorry that your dad was a big homophobe. Sorry that you told me you stood up to your dad when you came to the party, when you really just ducked out. Sorry that you kissed me in the tent and then played with my emotions. Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry."
He grabs Connor by the shirt collar and slams him against the wall.
"I'm tired of fucking sorry, Connor."
We see a close up of Connor's face from Jude's point of view, looking as tortured as it was the day he kissed Jude in Jude's bedroom. We see a close up of Jude's face from Connor's point of view, looking crazed and angry.
Flash!
"I don't get this. I don't get you."
Flash!
Connor leans forward and kisses Jude. Jude returns it.
Flash!
The shot is again from the side as Connor leans forward and kisses Jude. Jude is caught off-guard and his eyes widen. He is only still for a second before he pulls away and throws Connor against the door. He spits, disgusted, on the floor.
"What the hell did you think that was gonna do?" he snarls. "Did you think we were gonna sit in my room and play footsie or hold pinkies at the movies? You really are fucking delusional, Connor."
"I'm sorry," Connor groans, picking himself up out of the filth. "I don't know what came over me."
"Get out," Jude says. "Don't come back. If you knock on my door again, I'll greet you with a baseball bat."
Flashback 1C
We shift to the past, and we see the main hallway of Anchor Beach from above. Students stroll through, going about their daily routines, these behaviors that will prepare them for the responsibilities of adult life. We cut to a shot of Jude walking away from his locker, his backpack slung over one shoulder. Connor approaches from out of frame and Jude sighs.
"You promised you'd leave me alone, Connor," he says.
"You promised me an hour," Connor replies. "Seems like I got about fifteen minutes."
Jude stops.
"Look," he says, "I'm tired of talking about it, okay? I'm tired of being asked the same questions and giving the same answers."
"Then maybe you should change your answers," Connor retorts. "Think of a new response."
"The word no is the same in several languages," Jude says. "Do I need to learn to say it in German, Russian and Chinese too?"
"I just-"
"Leave me alone, Connor," Jude says. "I mean it. Stay away from me."
He walks off, leaving Connor standing in the hallway. From out of shot, we hear another male voice.
"You really should learn to take a hint. This is kinda sad, Connor."
We look over and see a Latino boy leaning against the lockers, his arms crossed. This is Jesus, Jude's other brother. He and his twin sister Mariana were the children of a crackhead who abandoned them to fend for themselves. Like Callie and Jude, they bounced around the system for a long time before finally being adopted by the Fosters. Jesus is not known for common sense or wise decisions, so it comes as no surprise when Connor scoffs at him.
"You're lecturing me about taking a hint?" Connor asks.
Jesus walks up and puts an arm over Connor's shoulders. We track their movement as they walk down the hallway.
"Listen, I'm only telling you what's in your best interest. If you keep harassing Jude, he's going to report you."
"Why do you care?" Connor asks, pulling away from his arm. "You've never liked me."
"You're right," Jesus says. "But I care a lot about my kid brother, and you're bothering him. I can't have you putting a member of my family under stress."
"I care about him, too," Connor says.
"Sure you do," Jesus replies. They reach a T-junction at the end of the hallway and we cut to a shot from behind. They stop and Jesus turns and looks at Connor. "Sure you do, but he's asking you to leave him alone. Do you care about him enough to let him go?"
He turns and walks off to the left. Connor stares after him for a moment, then exits to the right. The opening notes of Elton John's "Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word" begin and we begin cycling through different scenes, fading in and out of each one.
We first fade into Connor walking alone down the front walk. His hands are in his pockets and his head is down.
What have I gotta do to make you love me?
What have I gotta do to make you care?
He is walking through a residential neighborhood. A kid on a bicycle swerves around him and yells back at him to watch where the hell he's walking. Connor looks back over his shoulder for a moment, then puts his head back down and keeps walking.
What do I do when lightning strikes me?
And I wake to find that you're not there?
He is sitting alone on the beach, his knees pulled against his chest. We cut to a shot of him from the back, looking out at the water. A young couple strolls past him, holding hands. We return to the close up of his face, looking pained.
What do I do to make you want me?
What have I gotta do to be heard?
What do I say when it's all over
And sorry seems to be the hardest word?
He sits on a swing set at a park, rocking gently back and forth. There is no one else there when the scene begins, but soon we cut to a shot of Jude walking around the gazebo with another boy. We see a close up of Connor's face as his eyes widen. We see Jude again, laughing with the other boy and moving in slow motion. Connor blinks, and we see it was never Jude at all. The boy gives him a suspicious look as he walks by. Connor hangs his head and sighs.
It's sad so sad
It's a sad sad situation
And it's getting more and more absurd
He walks behind two friends, just a couple of years younger than himself, sitting together on a bus bench. They are having a conversation that we cannot hear. One boy puts his arm on the other boy's back and gives it a friendly pat. We briefly overlay:
Connor and Jude sitting on a bench at the batting cages. His father has been rough on him that day, and he hangs his head in frustration. Jude reaches over and pats him on the back. A small gesture of friendship, one that his father eventually blows out of proportion.
The overlay fades. Connor walks on.
It's sad so sad
Why can't we talk it over?
Oh it seems to me
that sorry seems to be the hardest word.
We fade into Connor as he is walking by the movie theater. We would be correct in assuming this is the same theater in which the two of them held hands. People are lined up under the lights. Small children chase each other around the legs of their parents. As the instrumental begins, we cut to a close up of Connor's face. He is staring at the kids, which we cut to. They run giggling, their arms out. A memory is overlaid on this, gradually growing stronger while the children fade away:
Jude and Connor playing baseball in Jude's back yard. Connor throws the ball and almost hits Jude, so Jude throws his glove at him. Connor begins chasing Jude around the yard, the two of them laughing, and he wrestles him to the ground. He looks down on him, smiling, as Jude looks up at him.
When we fade back, the instrumental is coming to an end and we are looking at a close up of Connor's face. He turns and keeps walking as the flashback and the music fade away.
Scene Four
Back in the present, we see a shot of Connor sitting on his bed in his boxers and a white tank top. He is holding what appears to be a snub-nosed revolver in his hand. He turns it over, turns it over again, gauges its weight, and finally just sits there staring at it. From out of view comes the sound of rain on the window, followed by the rumble of thunder. We cut to a close up of the gun, and we see that it is not loaded. Whatever reasons he has for staring at a revolver, it can be assumed that none of them involve using it on himself.
We return to the previous shot as he gets up and walks past us. We follow him as he exits his bedroom and goes to the living room. We may be tempted to take a peek toward the coffee table as we pass it to catch a glimpse of the mysterious photo, but we would be disappointed. He has turned it face-down on the table, concealing it from view.
He sits down in his chair, holding the gun like a talisman. As we inch closer to his face, we hear the echo of Jude's earlier words.
You're always sorry. Sorry that your dad was a big homophobe. Sorry that you told me you stood up to your dad when you came to the party, when you really just ducked out. Sorry that you kissed me in the tent and then played with my emotions. Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry.
He stares ahead, his gaze unseeing. He is far from this room, his mind replaying the events of the day.
Are you stupid or just delusional? What made you think you'd come here and find the kid you knew?
"No," he mutters under his breath. "But I thought I would at least find a friend."
What the hell did you think that was gonna do? Did you think we were gonna sit in my room and play footsie or hold pinkies at the movies? You really are fucking delusional, Connor.
"I'm sorry, Jude," he sighs. "I'm sorry I let you down."
His ringtone begins to play and he jumps slightly, startled. He looks down and we cut to a shot of his phone. The display reads "Lena." We back up as he places the gun on the table and picks up the phone.
"Hello?" he says, his voice a flat monotone.
"Connor?" we hear Lena reply. "Connor, are you okay? What happened?"
"Went to see Jude," he says. He looks down at the gun. "Didn't go well. Brought back a lot of memories."
"What did he say?" Lena asks.
"He told me to get out and not come back or he'd greet me next time with a baseball bat."
A pause.
"I see."
"Yeah," he says. He picks up the gun and rises from the chair. We follow him as he makes his way back to his room. "Don't think I'm gonna be able to help. Can't help someone who wants to bash my brains in."
He goes to his bedside table, opens it and deposits the gun inside.
"Are you really giving up so easily?" Lena asks. "That's not the Connor I remember. That's not the persistent kid I knew."
Something changes in Connor's face, though it is hard to pinpoint exactly what it is. It seems to darken.
"The kid you knew?" he replies. "Are you stupid or just delusional? What made you think you'd call here and find the kid you knew?"
"Excuse me?" Lena shoots back. "Is that how you talk to people who come to you asking for help? I-"
Connor flips the phone closed, then removes the battery. He walks back to the kitchen, and once again we are right on his heels. As the kitchen is small and rather cramped, we stop at the entryway and watch him. He goes to the cabinet and reaches in. We can't see what he's reaching for until he pulls it out: a fifth of Jack Daniel's Tennessee Whiskey. He reaches in again and pulls out a shot glass. He moves to the breakfast bar and we cut to a view from the opposite side of it.
"I thought I was so over this shit," he says, pouring himself a drink. He raises it as if toasting a lousy day. "Guess I was wrong."
He throws the drink back, grimacing at the taste. He pours another.
"Seems like life is just determined to kick me in the groin," he says, raising the glass. Another toast to misfortune. "Can't forget about Jude."
He drinks again, but does not grimace. He picks up the bottle and looks at it.
"So this fucking poison and some prescription pills ruined one of the sweetest people I ever knew," he says. He pours a shot. A toast to fucking poison. Down the hatch.
The echo of Lena's voice:
Even the smartest people will break when the pressure gets to be too much. He's been hurting for a long time, and he got tired of feeling broken. So he does the only thing that helps him feel better.
He puts the bottle down. He screws the lid back on and pushes it away.
"No, it wasn't the booze and it wasn't the pills. It was me. It was what I did that ruined him."
It may be a long time before he can move past what happened. It really shook his faith in you.
I didn't mean for it to happen!
I know. And that's why facing the possibility that your relationship with Jude is damaged beyond repair is going to be so hard.
We zoom in on Connor's face as his lip begins to tremble. Tears begin flowing down his cheeks.
"God damn it!" he screams. He leaps to his feet as we cut to a full shot. He picks up the liquor bottle and throws it at the wall. Before it makes contact, we cut to its final arc. It explodes like a bomb and turns into a shower of shards of tempered glass and expensive booze.
We return to a shot of Connor as he sinks upon his stool and puts his head in his arms.
"God damn it! God damn it!"
Flashback 1D
The flashback begins in the middle of the night. We can't tell the precise time, but the early hours of the morning would probably be a safe guess. We see a close shot of a nice two-story suburban home with a full porch. This is the Adams-Foster residence, where Stef and Lena live with their children. Though we have been here in previous scenes, we have never seen it from the front. It's nice, isn't it? The shrubbery and well-kept lawn really give it a homey touch, like something featured in Better Homes and Gardens.
We hear a tapping sound and cut to a street view. Connor is there with a handful of rocks, tossing them at Jude's window.
"Come on, Jude," he mutters. He tosses another rock and fishes his phone from his pocket. We cut to a close up of the phone's display, which shows a conversation labeled "Jude". The texts are quite one-sided.
Hey, can we talk?
Come on, Judicorn. Talk 2 me.
Plz?
Jude, I'm sorry.
Will you meet me outside your house tonite?
I'm here.
Plz come out.
Connor puts his phone away, then looks back at the house. He grabs another handful of rocks from the ground and rears back to toss one. The front porch light clicks on and he freezes. The door unlocks and begins to open. He lowers his arm and watches. Could it be Jude? Will Jude finally give Connor the audience he has begged for?
To his clear dismay and horror, it is Callie who steps out. She looks angry enough to shit a kitten. She walks up to him, still wearing her pajamas, and fixes him with a glare that could melt a steel support beam.
"I'm going to give you thirty seconds to clear out," she says, "and then I'm going to call the cops."
"Look, just give me a chance to explain," Connor begs.
"Twenty-five," Callie says, crossing her arms. "I'm not playing."
"I didn't mean for it to happen!" Connor insists. "I swear I'm not trying to corrupt your brother or hurt him!"
"Twenty," Callie continues. "You might want to stop talking and start walking."
"Fine," he concedes. "I'll stop trying to talk to Jude. Can I at least talk to you?"
This catches Callie off-guard and she stops counting.
"Me?" she asks, incredulous. "Why would you want to talk to me? Why would I want to talk to you?"
"Because you're already out here," Connor says. "You've got nothing to lose. And all I'm really asking for is five minutes."
"You'd be lucky if I gave you five seconds, Connor," she replies. She unfolds her arms and gestures wildly. "No, you know what? I take that back. After the weird way you've acted the past few days, you'd be lucky not to get a restraining order."
Connor sighs. This is getting him nowhere at all.
"I just want him to know I never meant to hurt him," he says. "I was only trying to-"
"We all know what you were trying to do, Connor," Callie says, cutting him off. Her voice is dripping with disgust. "You should be ashamed of yourself."
"I am," he says. "I wouldn't act this way about anyone else. I'd just let them go, no big deal. I can always make more friends. It's just that, after Jude and I kissed-"
"You kissed my brother?" Callie exclaims. She is clenching her fists like she wants to strangle the very last breath from his body.
"Yeah," Connor admits, smiling a bit at the memory. This smile does not please her, and the muscles in her jaw begin to move. She is starting to grind her teeth. "And he kissed me back, too. After it happened, it was like it all changed. I've never felt so crazy about anyone. I started thinking about him all the time, counting down the hours till I'd get to see him again. Don't you know what that feels like?"
Callie gets a hazy look in her eye. She looks back toward the porch where Stef, Lena, Jesus, his sister Mariana and Brandon are standing. Jude is noticeably absent. We cut to a close shot of Brandon, who looks on with a blank expression. We return the shot to Callie, who looks away. We would be correct in assuming there are more than slight feelings between Callie and Brandon.
"Yeah, I know what that feels like," she says. She has softened a tiny bit. She is still looking at Brandon. "It's not easy to be in love with someone we can't have. It's actually one of the hardest things in the world."
Another shot of Brandon, looking at her. He gives a slight nod, acknowledging her words.
We return to a side shot of Callie and Connor standing in the street. She turns her gaze from Brandon and fixes it upon Connor once again.
"In love?" Connor replies, caught off-guard by the term. "You think I'm-"
"It is what it is," Callie interrupts with a dismissing wave of her hand. "Now I've been instructed to ask you to leave. You woke everyone in the house up. I don't know what your intentions for my brother are, and I don't care. You say you want him to know that you didn't mean to hurt him. I'll make sure he gets the message."
Her face hardens again. He looks at her and nods. It is clear the conversation is over and he turns to walk away. As he does, he takes one last look toward Jude's bedroom window. We cut to a close shot of the window. Jude is standing behind the partly open curtain, watching. We hold this for several seconds. Could that be sadness we see on Jude's face? It is too dark to tell for sure. It could just as easily be pity for a former friend he feels is losing his marbles. We see a shot of Connor's face, then return to Jude at the window. Jude steps back into the shadows and closes the curtain.
Connor sighs and walks away.
Scene Five
We fade in on the interior of Bazra's Sports the next morning, looking toward the front door. Connor walks in and the bell chimes. He strolls across the store past us, and we turn to watch him. He walks through the employee door to the back and disappears, so we cut to a shot of him approaching the time clock. Bazra is standing there, his arms crossed and an angry look on his face.
"Stee-vons!" he barks. "What time is it?"
Connor looks toward the time clock. We see a close up which shows us that it is two minutes after nine.
"You are late again for the last time, Stee-vons," Bazra says as we change our focus to him. "Do not even clock in today. Get out of my store. You may return in one week to pick up your final check."
"Come on, Mr. Bazra," Connor pleads. "The train was behind schedule. Can't you-"
"No!" Bazra barks. "No slack! No slack for slackers! Get out!"
Connor turns and walks out and we follow him from the store. As he crosses the lobby, he catches the eye of Emma, who looks at him with pity. He meets her gaze for a moment, then continues toward the door. He walks down the street in a huff and kicks a garbage can.
"Shit!" he screams. "Shit shit shit!"
A woman walking by at that moment gives him a frightened look and walks faster.
"Hey!" a voice calls from behind him. He turns to look, as we do, and sees Emma. "Connor, wait!"
Connor groans and looks away, fed up.
"I'm not in the mood, Emma," he says.
She looks hurt; he ignores this.
"I'm not here to rub it in," she says. "I'm here to help."
"Help how?" he asks. He looks at his watch. "If I'm gonna catch the next train, I need to-"
"And do what, Connor?" she asks. "Go back to your apartment and stare at that picture until the sun goes down? Walk the streets by yourself, thinking about how miserable you are? Then what? When your rent is due, you'll be on the street because you spent your time feeling sorry for yourself instead of listening to me."
Connor's jaw tightens, but he gives an indulgent nod.
"All right," he says, gesturing toward a nearby bench. "The floor is yours."
He sits down and she joins him. We cut to a shot from the front of the two of them side-by-side as the traffic flows in front of them and pedestrians go about their business behind them.
"I told a friend of mine about your issues with Bazra a few days ago," she says. "He's got a little shop in one of the quieter business districts. He sells instruments and sheet music and stuff. Real classy guy. He said that if you did end up getting fired, I should give you his card and tell you to come by. He says he might have a job for you."
She reaches into her pocket and produces a business card. Connor takes it and we cut to a close up of the printed side.
Music of Life
Specializing in all things music
Brandon Foster, Proprietor
As we hold this shot, we hear Emma speaking.
"He dreamed of being a musician when he was younger, but it never worked out for him. Dunno why. He's got crazy talent."
We return to the shot of the two of them on the bench. Connor is staring at the card with a shocked expression.
"You know Brandon Foster?" he asks, incredulous.
"Sure I do," Emma says. "He used to teach piano, and I was his student for awhile. Nice guy. He says that he can't give you the best job in the world, but you'll make enough to pay your rent and keep yourself fed."
"I don't believe this," Connor says. He stands, then turns to look at Emma. "How does this happen to me? Is there some god of the ironic who finds it funny to poke me with a stick?"
Shot of Emma from Connor's point of view.
"I don't understand," she says. "I thought you'd be happy to have a potential job."
"Oh, I am," Connor says as we shift our focus back to him. "Don't get me wrong. I really appreciate this. I just..."
He looks at the card in his hand, then pulls his wallet from his pants and places the card inside.
"You know what?" he says. "It doesn't matter how ironic it is. Thanks a lot, Emma."
He pulls her from the bench and embraces her. We see her bemused and uncomfortable expression as she gives Connor an awkward pat on the back.
"No problem, Stevens," she says, pulling away. "Just don't make me regret it."
He smiles at her and walks away. We zoom up to the sky, which has no clouds today. Our only indicator that time has passed is the slight change in the position of the sun. We fade into a shot of a flight of stairs. There are footsteps, then Connor's head appears. He walks up and we move backwards to track him as he strolls casually down the hallway of his apartment building. He is looking at the card and trying to fish his keys out of his pocket, distracted.
"Where the hell did I put those keys?" he mumbles.
He looks up and stops. His face goes pale and his eyes widen.
"What are you doing here?" he asks.
We cut to his point of view and see Callie standing by his front door. Although her hair is shorter these days and she looks a little more seasoned by time, she is the same Callie. She gives him a dry smile.
"We need to talk, Connor," she says. "Right now."
Next Chapter: The Mortician's Daughter