au. honey, life is just a classroom . lucas/maya and farkle/riley

a/n: first girl meets world fanfiction, pls no hate

ps this may be slightly ooc but meh.

this is a multi-chap

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life of the party . O1

the kids your parents warned you about

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Missy Bradford insisted that Riley just had to go to this party at a friend [of a friend of a friend of a friend]'s house. After some convincing ["Riles, you have to live a little. I mean, you can't be a goody-two-shoes your whole life."], the shy brunette nodded in reluctant agreement. She was determined to cling to the plaster of the walls for the entirety of the party.

So, she rummaged through her closet for a dress suitable for her first—and last—high school party. Missy said that any skimpy dress would work, but, well, Riley didn't own anything skimpy. And her father, a kind and simple teacher, would never let her leave the house looking like a tramp. When her wide brown eyes landed on a floral baby-doll dress, she decided that would look wonderful with a modest jean jacket and her favorite boots. It was beginning to be chilly in New York anyways.

Cory Matthews was sprawled across the couch, a remote in his grasp. There was a rerun of some old nineties sitcom playing on the TV, and Riley knew it wasn't a particularly good time to interrupt. Instead of telling her father what she was doing that night, she said, "Hey dad, I'm gonna go sleep or something. Tell Auggie not to bother me."

And Cory said, "Okay, sleep well, kid," without even looking her way. If he had, he would have discovered that she was donning a night-on-the-town outfit rather than the night-in-her-room outfit he assumed she would be wearing. As oblivious as he was, he did catch the slightest whiff of her perfume. He didn't think much of it, really. He probably should have.

Once she was back in her room, Riley locked the door and peeled open her window. She stepped out on to the fire escape, her breath hitching as nerves wrecked havoc in her chest. She knew Missy was down below, impatiently waiting for her friend to get down already. Sucking in some fresh August air, Riley marched down the fire escape steps. Maybe Missy was right—she had to do this. She was always doing what was expected of her, letting people stomp all over her. It was time Riley did something she wanted. [The girl failed to realize that she didn't even want to go to the party, and that Missy often was the person stepping on her].

The street was dampened with rain from a few short hours ago and the sun dipped down in the distance. When Riley checked her phone, it was 8:03 ["three minutes late!" she could already hear Missy screech]. The brunette linked arms with her friend as they walked, both singing along to a song they've heard a thousand times. Their heels clicked in unison on the sidewalk, and the butterflies in Riley's stomach continued to flutter relentlessly.

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Maya didn't think much good of the party she was at. The air was hazy and humid, the boys were fumbling drunk, and the soda smelled all too intoxicating for the petite blonde girl. The living-room-turned-dance-floor was stuffed to the brim with sweaty bodies grinding against each other. She looked away with distaste; instead studying the clutter of shoes shoved against the door and the way the dim lights of the kitchen flickered like a candle.

A boy sat down next to her at the makeshift bar and smirked. "Hey," the alcohol lingered in his words, "I haven't met you before." Maya gave him a quick once over. His polo-shirt was wrinkled and unbuttoned, exposing a patch of his tan chest. The inky mess of hair on his head appeared greasy - he probably styled it before he came to the party. Nonetheless, Maya was unimpressed—and, frankly, he reeked of body odor and drunken love affairs.

"Perhaps we should keep it that way," she replied dryly. Before the guy could continue pestering her, Maya stood up and walked towards a different section of the apartment.

She then saw two girls with brown hair walk through the front door. One of them was immediately whisked off by some guy, probably her boyfriend or something, which left the other stranded. The girl glanced around timidly, most likely realizing that she didn't belong there. Maya frowned at her. It wasn't that she particularly liked parties—heck, she didn't know why she was there in the first place—but she at least understood the dynamics. She could handle herself with ease, she didn't trust any drink offers.

The girl standing in the open doorway was the kind of innocence that jerks corrupted.

So perhaps that's why she felt a need to help her. Maya simply didn't want that naive sparkle in her eye to vanish in the course of a terrible night.

"I'm guessing you don't go to many parties. First time?" she wondered when she made her way over to the entrance. The brunette crinkled her eyebrows in confusion before realizing oh hey, this person is talking to me, and then nodded slowly. "Sorry, I forgot my manners." Maya stuck out her hand. "I'm Maya. What's your name?"

The girl nimbly took her palm in her grasp and shook it. "Riley." She then withdrew her hand and thumbed the hem of her dress nervously. "My friend kind of ditched me so, um, could I just hang out with you and your friends until she comes back?"

"Well first," Maya held up a finger. "I don't have any friends that you would be comfortable around. And second," she held up another. "Your friend ran off with a guy. She's probably not coming back for you tonight."

Riley gulped, biting her lip. "Well, that's fine, I guess. We can just hang out and then I can, um, walk home later or something."

With a laugh, Maya said, "Right, right. Just follow me."

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Lucas thought he was finally alone on the bare rooftop of his new apartment building. His desolate room was all shadows and walls, and he wanted to escape the buzz of music drumming beneath his cold feet. The fresh New York air wasn't really fresh at all [actually, it was smoggy and smelled like gasoline on fire] but the wind whipping at his shirt reminded him of somewhere else, and the moon above him was the same one he looked at during the short summer nights in Texas.

It was hard to clear his mind when there was constantly noisenoisenoise in the busy city that never sleeps. But he had a spectacular view of the bustling streets and towering skyscrapers. This place didn't feel like home—hell, it didn't even remotely resemble it—but it felt like adventure. He liked the taste of it.

He was finally finding himself at peace when three people thundered onto the roof, slamming the door behind them. He heard a girl's voice say something like "Farkle, shut the hell up—why are you even still here?" Lucas's head snapped in the direction of the three teenagers and he made awkward eye contact with each of them for approximately four seconds.

The girl with brown hair and dark eyes looked at him strangely, while the blonde paid him little attention. In fact, the red-headed boy was saying something to her, distracting her. It was clear to Lucas that he was also trying to capture the other girl's attention, but her mind was somewhere else.

Blonde-girl, sensing his discomfort, stepped towards him. "Hi, I'm Maya. That chick staring at you is Riley. The weird one is Farkle. His name really suits him, don't you think?" She sat down next to him.

Lucas chuckled softly. "Hello, I'm Lucas Friar and I'm an alcoholic."

"Hi, Lu-cas," Maya chorused, a teasing tone in her voice. "Hold on a second—where are you from, cowboy?"

"Texas." Evidently, it was easy to pick up on his accent, because every person he had come into contact with had asked about it. "I moved here about a month ago."

"That's really cool," Riley blurted. "I mean," she continued, "I've always wanted to go there. It seems so..different."

He nodded and felt Maya laugh beside him. Lucas liked the sound of it, how it felt genuine and nice. "Yep, and I bet country music is real big where you're from," she said with a nudge to his side.

Looking over to her, Lucas raised an eyebrow. "Gee, I have no clue what that is. Care to explain to me? I'm practically an ignorant foreigner."

Maya rolled her eyes. "You are an ignorant foreigner." She parted her lips to continue the banter, but music cut her off. When they glanced over, Farkle was messing with his phone. He met their gaze and shrugged innocently, as if to say "We need music up in this biz." It seemed to help, to some extent, because Riley appeared less nervous than before.

As the party raged down on the fourth floor of the building, a new one started on the rooftop.

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At the end of the night, they had spent all of their laughter and were fresh out of words to say. So they just stayed there, lying on the roof and staring at the starless sky. Sometimes, Riley would see a helicopter light flashing in the night, and she would pretend it was a shooting star.

She didn't want to face the fact that she would have to leave and perhaps never see them again. But when the time on her phone read 4:33, she knew she didn't have much of an option.

"Goodnight guys. I'll text you," she promised as she stood up to go. Goodbyes were always difficult to her. She didn't like them very much at all [but, really, no one does]. They murmured 'see ya's and 'until next time's and 'do you want me to come with you for, uh, protection's [to which she declined, "sorry, Farkle, but you're not exactly the muscle of the group. I can't see that working out too well." Farkle was saddened by her response but still nodded with understanding].

But yeah, she thought as she walked down the same wet pavement from earlier, now humming to a new tune. Until next time.


tbc.