a/n: sorry for taking so long. spoilers for lightning thief musical, which you should totally listen to.
It happens again, of course.
The Matthews take the six friends to a ski lodge upstate—and it's funny really, because the entire way up there Topanga is quipping about someone named Lauren who apparently almost broke up Cory and Topanga for good?
It's July anyway, so they don't ski but instead hike. Josh comes along too.
But for some reason, when they're out (Riley falls out of the van as she was getting out and sprained her ankle, so she's back at the lodge), Farkle of all people goes off chasing Pokemon and slips off the worn path and Maya is the only one close enough and she sorta shimmies off the trail and down the cliff face to grab his hand and pull him off the tree (she's small but she's strong). In all honesty, it all happened so fast, she barely remembers it.
Lucas doesn't say anything to her until they get back to the lodge, when Riley asks what happens and he tells her that Maya almost got herself killed.
"It wasn't that tall of a cliff, Huckleberry," she explains away. "I've fallen from much higher, I would've been fine if something went wrong, which it didn't."
He crosses his arms over his chest. "You don't know that, you could've gotten seriously hurt."
And she can't keep from glancing down at his lips, because he's biting them so that they're a blood red and a small (miniscule, really) part of her wants to kiss them soft, but his anger is unjustified and she's not going to let him get away with it. "Well, you don't make my decisions for me, Ranger Rick."
That sets him off, and yes, Maya knows that he's just mad because he was worried, but that doesn't stop her from getting to that point of almost yelling but not quite, and his face grows carmine and furious and the rest of the group slowly slinks away, including Riley and the Matthews, who really should have intervened by now.
Smackle, who normally is the quiet observer of the bunch, is the one to pull her away when she ends up getting all up in Lucas' face. She feels a tug on her elbow and she lets Izzy drag her to one of the plaid couches in the corner.
Maya puts as much distance between them as she can for the rest of the night, but they still end up bickering and it's nasty and mean and she hates this, because no matter what anyone thinks she despises arguing with someone, especially him, just for the sake of arguing. At least they can typically come to a compromise or something of the sort, but right now they're so close to screaming at each other over this thing that's so stupid.
She ends up going to her room without telling him goodnight, which might be a little petty; she even turns off her phone when it lights up with a message because she doesn't want to talk to him, especially not over a screen. And because she can't sleep, and she needs to get this nervous pent-up overtaking energy out, she slips out of the room she's sharing with Riley and Smackle at around five in the morning, four hours before they're supposed to wake up, and heads to the lobby.
It's not empty, but the person manning the front desk is not a man but a boy, probably her age though she can't really tell past the greasy hair. He doesn't really look up from his iPhone long enough to register her presence, which she definitely doesn't mind as she makes her way over to the cute little bay window that reminds her of Riley.
She revels in the quiet, closes her eyes and just pushes all thoughts away and even when she feels someone sit on the cushions beside her she still doesn't look up, because she knows who it is. She knows it by their hitch of their breath and the way they seem to be able to take away hers, and she knows it by the way her heart breaks when he touches her hand tentatively.
But she's not going to be the first to say something, because it's his mess and his feelings, not hers, so she braces herself for another argument.
"You could've gotten hurt." Maya knows where this is going, so she keeps her mouth shut tight, even if his voice is breaking, like he's the one that's hurt. "Don't you know what that would've done to the people who care about you?"
And her words (albeit with Zay's input) are thrown back at her, but this time she's not confused, although still angry. "It's not the same thing, Lucas. If I hadn't done something, Farkle would have gotten hurt," she looks him dead in the eyes, her words as sharp as her stare. "Don't you dare compare me helping a friend to your immature ego-trip."
"I know it's different!"
That escapes as a shout, and the boy at the counter looks over at them, irritated. Maya ignores him, turns to Lucas again. "Then why are you still mad at me?"
"I-I—y-you could—y-you d-don't," and then he pauses, takes a deep breath but his words are still shaky. "You don't care about yourself at all, Maya. You could have gotten hurt so badly if you had slipped, and you wouldn't have even cared!" She doesn't know what to say, but takes his hand in hers. He fiddles with her fingers a little, a nervous habit he has, as he rambles. "I'm glad that Farkle's okay, but you're just so small, and I don't think you realize it, and I don't know what I would have done if you'd—"
She cuts him off, placing her lips on his ever so softly and swallows his next words, ignores that little voice in her head that tells her to stop all of this when he places his palms on her cheeks and kisses her back with the same tenderness he's always shown her. Maybe tears pinprick at the corners of her eyes, maybe those hypothetical tears are because maybe someone cares about her more than she could ever imagine.
She feels him relaxing against her in the same way she finds herself sinking deeper into him, she feels herself sigh into him but then she remembers how they ended up here. When she breaks away from him, she hardens her gaze and grips the collar of his shirt in her fist. "I know you care about me, Huckleberry, but you can't stop me from helping the people I care about." When he looks like he's going to interject, she rushes on. "Look, I get it, but you don't get to tell me what I can or can't do. Whatever the hell this," she gestures to the space between them, " is won't last a day if you think you have a right to control me. I'm not a goody-too-shoes, I've never been, so don't expect me to act like I am."
He has this look on his face that she knows well. "I'm sorry for freaking out on you, but I'm not sorry for worrying about you. I'm always gonna worry about you."
And then he glides a thumb over her cheek, his touch so light that all of the tension keeping her body rigid dissipates. This boy has made her soft. But instead of scowling like she wishes she could, she pulls him forward by the fabric of his tee to slant her lips over his.
"This is sweet and all, but you seriously can't do that in here."
They both lean back to glare at the boy, sitting behind the desk. He's shrugging, entirely unapologetic. "I don't want to puke until after sunrise."
Maya tries to give him the bird, but Lucas just gently moves her off of his lap, takes her by the hand and leads her outside (of course, she flips off grease-lightning behind the blond's back, but whatever). He ends up placating her completely a few minutes later, behind a bunch of soda machines with her back to a brick wall, legs around his waist and his lips on the pulse point of her neck.
;;
His apartment is sweltering.
She lies, her head resting on his chest, perpendicular to his body. They're supposed to be working on their Honors US History summer assignment—which, really, is just coloring and labeling a map of the United States. But right now the only things he's tracing are lazy circles on the bare skin of her stomach, her torso covered only by a rosy bralette she bought with Riley.
Right as she's drifting off to sleep, he sings, under his breath: "un-deux-trois-quatre-cinq-six-sept-huit-neuf."
It's so soft and slow she isn't entirely that's what he said, but she chuckles anyway. "Good, un-deux-trois-quatre-cinq-six-sept-huit-neuf."
His voice is still nearly a whisper, but a little louder this time, as he counts again in French, repeating after her even though they'd both only memorized up to nine in the language. It reminds her of last spring, and as Lucas continues to draw now swirly patterns, she feels so deeply and effortlessly warm.
Loved, some voice in the back of her mind says.
She's not sure if that voice is Riley or Zay or someone else entirely.
;;
Obviously, they decide to keep this all a secret.
It's not that she's deluded herself into thinking they can keep it up forever, but neither of them want to hurt Riley for as long as humanly possible. She's pretty sure that Zay already knows, or is at the very least suspicious.
For the most part, they try to act, around others, the way they used to last summer when Lucas and Riley were still RileyandLucas. They start to go on runs in the mornings again, because it gives them a reason to be flushed and sticky with sweat after finding a secluded corner of the park, because they'll often go to meet Zay and Riley and Smackle and Farkle for breakfast.
Farkle seems fixated on Riley lately, and he and Smackle bicker more than they used to (Smackle has started hitting on Lucas at an increasingly frequent rate), and she's noticed that he's taken to wearing a red beanie, a starch contrast to the rest of his dark clothes.
She knows why he's smiling more even when jabs are thrown at him left and right, but she doesn't know what to make of this knowledge. And she doesn't know if Zay has caught on, though. So she broaches the subject one day, when they're lying on her bed, painting their nails (he tends to coat his fingernails with a burgundy color—just to say "fuck you" to the universe—and his toes a different vibrant hue every time).
"Do you think they believe in soulmates?"
He doesn't look up from her right thumb that he's painting a baby pink because she's a disaster. "Riley yes, Farkle no."
"I'm serious."
"Well." It takes a minute for him to continue, deciding to finish her hand first. He bites his lip. "Farkle doesn't want to believe in anything he can't prove, but his feelings right now are all muddled. Have you seen all that red he's been wearing?" She laughs and nods, confirming his observations. "And I think Riley wants to, but recent events have led her to believe otherwise. She's slowly coming to terms with reality, and…."
"This thing with Lucas and me isn't making it easy for her, huh?" Maya knows this, she's always known that their closeness made her best friend insecure, even when it was just being friends (even though it was never just being friends).
Zay shakes his head, then answers, "I don't think she knows you guys are… hooking up, or whatever, but she's probably thought about it before, probably has her suspicions."
The blonde curses under her breath. "The last thing I want to do is hurt her."
"I know."
Her phone chirps with a snapchat from Lucas, and it turns out to be a picture of some statue of what she presumes to be a dead guy. Zay raises his eyebrows, and she chuckles. "They're at some science museum in Corona, Farkle promised to buy him a new baseball bat."
In return, she snaps a shot of their nails, and then she gets a selfie of Lucas leaning up against Farkle (who had ended up being the tallest out of all of them, sprouting up during the summer after freshman year), both with the stupidest smiles on their faces. "He's such a fucking dork."
"A dork you're in love with."
Maya only hums in response.
;;
Neither of them is all that good with words. But of the two, Lucas is much more vocal, while Maya tends to keep her mouth shut, expressing her affection through touch rather than with her tongue. Okay wait, shit, that last part is wrong. She's really good with her tongue.
He's the first to say "I love you," but she's the first to tell him.
The week before school starts, they're in her den, and he's lying flat on his bare stomach on a couple of old newspapers while Maya straddles his hips. A cup of muddled water sits next to them, her acrylic paints beside it.
She's painted on Riley before, although that had a lot more giggling and sunshine and unicorns to it than this. Now, soft music is playing through her iPhone speaker—sappy shit like The Fray, but it sets the mood: serious. And Lucas is immovable, even if he complains every once in a while about needing to pee, and in between base coats she leans over to press her red-lipsticked lips against his neck, along his jaw, underneath his ear on the skin there.
For once, she's glad her mom isn't coming home tonight (she's working a double shift at the diner again) because she's fine with the old t-shirt of his that she's wearing getting covered in the rainbow of color.
Lucas had bought her these paints for her seventeenth birthday, Riley the brush she currently holds in her hand. The brunette is always on the edge of her mind, incessantly escaping her thoughts with every breath.
Nonetheless, Maya uses a vivid cerise for the letters, and every stroke leaves Lucas growing impossibly more and more still (which is weird, she thinks, because she always thought he'd be more ticklish when it came to situations like this). She pens the three loopy words on his back with a brush, and when he asks what she wrote, she similarly freezes and says, "'Huckleberry' of course."
He hums like he doesn't believe her (she knows that he doesn't), but he doesn't throw some quip her way, just quietly asks what she's going to do next (it's a surprise). She turns his back into a midnight canvas, dots it with white and the stars and the streaks in the sky. It's the night, of a faraway place where the sky was littered with constellation upon constellation upon constellation.
When she finishes, she takes a picture of it with her phone, and when he sees it, she isn't sure if he realizes the significance it holds for her, or for her hope.
;;
A few weeks after school starts, Maya ends up going shopping for flannels at this huge thrift store in the West Village. Zay's the one to take her, as she claims that she doesn't know her way around all that plaid ("I mean, dude, do you own a shirt that isn't flannel?").
But she stays by his side, because he goes to the men's section anyways, where the good shit is, and he makes fun of her when the first thing she grabs is a ridiculously oversized maroon t-shirt.
"Don't even act like that isn't just for you to steal from Friar."
"Shut the hell up, Babineaux."
But he's right.
;;
She drags Lucas to the theater on 6th Avenue, after promising him that they're just going to see a happy, lighthearted comedy about dogs, doesn't tell him that they're actually going to watch the sequel to Cloverfield until after she already bought the tickets—he hates the original, and he hates scary movies. He also hates when she pays, but she's able to guilt him into it as long as he pays for dessert after, and promises that he can hide his face in her shoulder if he gets scared.
Fifteen minutes into the film he stops whining, actually seems to be riveted by it; when she tries to kiss him, even just briefly, he just swats her away.
He does apologize afterwards though, with tears in his eyes because he's a poor sap who cries during every movie they see together, and even lets her flirt with Charlie at the diner so they can get a free milkshake.
(Charlie wouldn't make her pay anyway—she doesn't need to flirt but they both find jealous Lucas rather entertaining, especially considering the whole Riley ordeal that happened back in eighth grade.)
She pecks the brunette on the cheek when he drops off their double chocolate shake and spoon, and just begins to unwrap her straw when Lucas' phone starts buzzing, Lisa's contact picture lighting up the screen. Maya just sucks on her ice cream while he talks to her, a bemused expression punctuating his features.
"I mean, I'm with Maya right now and—um, okay, perfect. We'll, uh, be there soon." He clicks his phone off, scrunches his nose up.
When she asks him what's wrong, he just says that his mom needs him—them—home for dinner, suggests that they should probably take the shake to go.
"Your mom's not gonna like us having dessert before a, like, actual meal. You do know that, right?"
Lucas smiles and nods, but gets up and gestures for her to do the same, so she writes a quick note on a napkin to Charlie thanking him for the shake and to tell him that she loves him (jokingly of course—he knows that she's in love with Lucas and she knows that he knows that) and to leave a couple bucks for a tip (and enough to cover most of the shake).
Lucas is in an odd mood on the walk to his apartment; a sort of excited yet incredibly anxious, and when she questions him, he just wraps his arm around her waist, slowing their pace, and grins—says that his mother just seemed so enthusiastic but in a weird way, that he hadn't heard her sound like that in a long time.
When they get to the complex, his movements become more stilted, so she pushes the door open for him, leading him by the hand, and sees his smiling mom in the kitchen, and then there's also a dark-haired man sitting on the sofa and she turns back to look at Lucas whose face has fallen and then back at the man who shares a striking resemblance to her boyfriend and then it hits her.
Oh shit.
With all of her practice, she feels like she should know how to deal with estranged fathers, but instead she just freezes, her eyes flitting between a dumbfounded Lucas and the smiling man.
;
Lisa made lasagna for dinner, and they're all at the little table like a family and even though Maya considers her and her son to be like her family, it's just that she doesn't know the man sitting across from Lucas and to her right and she's just not sure what to make of the situation.
She's introduced as Lucas' girlfriend over salad, and Mr. Friar tells her to call him Michael but she can't bring herself to it, and just refers to him as Mr. Friar for the duration of the meal. Lucas grips her thigh underneath the table, so hard that she's pretty sure the skin there will be red for a while. He's just so uncomfortable and she doesn't blame him—his dad acts like this family meal is an everyday occurrence and his mom is talking like he hadn't not seen him in three years.
Mr. Friar brings up football, asks him how the season's going.
"I don't play football anymore, sir."
"What about basketball?"
"Not until the winter."
"Baseball?"
"I'm the pitcher for varsity."
"But no football?"
She can feel his fingers tap her leg, dancing, indicating his irritation. "I don't care very much for it, sir."
"But surely you tried out."
"I did not."
A frown.
"I just don't want you to throw your life away."
Tap tap tap.
"I'm not."
"Sounds like you are."
"Football isn't big here."
"It is back home."
Tap tap tap tap tap tap.
"My home is here."
"How do you expect to get into college?"
"Probably with my grades and extracurriculars and baseball."
"No college is gonna give you money for baseball."
Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap.
Lucas stays quiet for a brief moment, but just when he's about to open his mouth, Maya speaks. "He's actually already had scouts at his games for him."
His dad looks at her, curiously. Raises an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
She nods. "And he's in the top ten percent of his class, and he's a great person. Vice president of one of our school's volunteer clubs." Maya doesn't normally find herself rambling, but she does now. "You have a great son, Mr. Friar. He's one of the best people I know."
"Are you sure about—"
"I've gotta take Maya home now."
It's Lucas who butts in, putting down his napkin, standing up suddenly and grabbing her jacket from the rack and pulling her to her feet. Lisa tries to protest, and so does the blonde, but Lucas just kisses the both of them on the forehead and insists that he has to get Maya home before dark.
He doesn't say anything until they're halfway down the carpeted hallway towards the elevator, far enough that they can't really see the door to flat 313 anymore. "I'm so sorry about—"
Wrapping her arms around his neck tightly, she cuts him off, pulls him to her hard. He sinks into her, melting easily like warm honey when she pads her thumb over his cheeks, his own limbs coming to link behind her. She hopes he can feel her love pouring from her chest to his.
"Don't apologize."
;
Mr. Friar ends up staying for two weeks, and so for two weeks, Lucas bats between her house and Zay's and she wants to help but knows how she felt every time Riley tried to butt in on her thing with her dad and so she tries to be there but not be overbearing but she feels it when they're up until four in the morning catching up on The Office and he burrows into her embrace as Jim proposes to Pam and she feels something warm and wet on her collarbone. And then there's another crack in her heart and oh god, she can't let him hurt any more than he already has.
;
On a Monday, they're in the art classroom, and the teacher left an hour ago, trusting her to the supplies. And so she's up to her neck in paint, literally, because Lucas is very messy and she has to clean up any time he accidentally flicks the vivid fuchsia on the table or on her nose or on his nose.
Between supervising the nearly eighteen year old boy as he handles the tempura and periodically getting up to change any song she doesn't like that comes on the Pandora station, Maya works on her own piece for the school art exhibition, humming quietly.
For a while, Lucas sings along obnoxiously to the 2000s Top Hits, but then, all of the sudden, he silences. "Do you know why I clung so hard to being perfect for so long? Especially when I first came here?" She raises her eyebrows in response. "It was my dad."
She expected that, but what she doesn't expect is for him to tell her about it all. About how his dad was that parent who coached all of his Little League games and then was his coach for his seventh grade football team where he was the quarterback but he was never very good and was always getting in so much trouble that he couldn't play for three games of his last season and his father took that out on him. That he always blamed himself for his mother and father splitting up, because he just kept disappointing his dad. That he didn't want to do that to his mother, too.
Maya remains quiet throughout it all, soaking in his words because she knows how it feels when you just want someone to listen to you, to hear you. When he finishes, his chest heaving and the glimmer of a tear rimming his eyes, she takes his hand in hers and kisses each of his callused knuckles gently.
"You're more than good enough for me," she says slowly, lightly, even though the meaning under the statement runs deeper than she wants to admit.
His smile is small, but it's there.
;;
It's the first snow of the season, so logically, Maya convinces Lucas to skip their lunch period to instead catch a train to Bryant Park, claiming that the fact that he's never gone ice skating before is appalling. (The subway car is full, as expected, so they're standing towards the back, clutching the same pole and his hand moves to grip her waist to steady her. It's nice, so she tucks her head underneath his chin.)
Thankfully, on a Tuesday in the middle of November, there isn't a great amount of tourism, so the rink is relatively uncrowded. It's also cold, really cold, and they're wearing three layers including: scarves, hats and mittens. Maya's wearing pants for once.
They grab a couple of pairs of skates from the rental desk, and then they're on the ice.
Of course, Lucas clings to rails for the first few minutes, but Maya, growing bored from skating literal circles around him, laces their fingers together and coaxes him away from the edge. He's shaky, true, but she moves slowly enough that he doesn't freak out, but quickly enough that they're skating slightly above the average speed of a tortoise.
Soon enough, though, he gets the hang of it, and can almost tread without falling to the ground, but she holds on to him still, laughing each time he slips and apologizes whenever he almost runs over a child or another couple. When he is able to skate without aid for more than a few feet, she feels her smile grow, splitting across her face and she pulls him to her, dragging him down to kiss her as his hands find the small of her back and pull her flush against him. His lips are chapped, but he tastes like sunshine and something sweet.
;;
"You really need to tell her."
She knows that Zay is right, but she can't bring herself to do it.
;;
As it turns out, she doesn't end up getting a choice in the matter.
She starts sleeping at Lucas' again, since her mother has to pick up graveyard shifts at the diner to help save for future college expenses (not that Maya thinks she'll get accepted anywhere anyway). Plus, Lisa tends to work late nowadays with her weird doctor schedule filling up rapidly, and he doesn't like to be alone either.
They're just settling in for the night, a school night—a Tuesday night, to be exact. And most of their homework is finished, with just a Spanish literature analysis worksheet due on Maya's part, so they're planning on catching a few episodes of FRIENDS until they, like, pass out.
Nestled into his side, their papers strewn about the coffee table, she sighs as Monica and Chandler desperately try to keep their relationship a secret. Maya laughs a little bitterly at that, a familiar feeling bubbling up in her throat.
Lucas' phone dings then, right when Monica comes in on the screen with a turkey for a head, and he has to pull his hand away from the skin of her thigh in order to reach it. With a quick glance, more because she's curious than anything, and stifles a chuckle when she sees that it's a text from Donnie Barnes: Regular Guy.
His brow furrows as he reads the message. "Have I done the essay for Wilkins'?"
She raises hers quizzically.
"It depends if it's the one over Macbeth, or the one over the Civil War."
"Wilkins is English," he clarifies. She shrugs. "Alright, well, pause it. I've gotta go check my bag, and I am not missing a solid Mondler moment."
To that, Maya rolls her eyes as she clicks the space bar, and he pats her knee to make her rise from her seat on his lap, before pressing his lips to her forehead, softly. She sighs, calls out that she's making tea while he heads down the narrow hallway to his room.
And so she fills the red kettle with water, puts it on the stove top and twists the little knob for the smallest cooking space. For god's sake, he needs to get a bigger pot. As the water begins to heat, she grabs two tea-bags—chamomile, from Peru (her friend just returned from a visit to her home country)—and even though she really doesn't feel like climbing up to get the huge mugs that she so desperately loves, she wants to drown in her tea, and thus she hops up on the counter in an effort to shimmy her way to the highest shelf on the kitchen cabinets.
Maya reaches for her mug, a "Central Perk" themed piece that she could honestly fit her entire head in (all of the Friars' were too wimpy), and then a smaller one with gaudy hearts decorating the ceramic. It's then, as she sets the coffee mugs down, that she feels arms drape around her waist from behind and a chin resting on one of her shoulders.
She smiles, warmth spreading through her chest. "So, did you do the paper?"
Laughing breezily, he replies "No" and she turns around on the cool granite top to kiss him lightly along his jawline.
"We have a couple of minutes before the water boils," Lucas says in an almost whisper, coy, when she trails down his neck, raising gooseflesh on his skin. She hums in response, wraps her legs around his hips to pull him closer as his mouth moves to meet her own; she feels his grin grow against her lips, and she doesn't remember ever being this happy.
She thinks that maybe it's the endorphins (or whatever they're called) coursing through her, or maybe the fact that she can't focus on anything but how his mouth presses against her collarbone that distracts her from the front door opening.
"Lucas? Maya? What the hell?"
Farkle.
She pushes against the blond's chest, sending him toppling backwards, tries to hop down to avoid the little genius' furious disposition. His eyes flit down then, raising his eyebrow at what at first seems to be her sock-covered feet, but then she becomes acutely aware that her legs are bare underneath the big cotton t-shirt of Zay's that she's wearing and she hopes that she's wearing shorts at least (but the likelihood of that is small).
Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head vigorously. "It's not what you think," she says, but then glances over at Lucas and her shoulders droop. "Maybe it is what you think."
"I just can't believe you would do this to Riley." And then he takes their silence to turn, stalk out of the apartment and slam the door.
"Farkle!"
But he's gone.
;;
She doesn't know what to do after trying to chase after Farkle, and Lucas doesn't say anything (just stands there with a dumb-struck expression slapped across his face), so she calls Riley knowing she won't pick up at that moment (she has some volunteer thing that she always shuts her phone off for) and leaves a voicemail, saying that she knows that she fucked up and she's sorry. It's intentionally vague and tears sting her eyes as she clicks off.
By the time she turns back around, Lucas has regained some composure, but is sitting on the sofa, eyes big and wide and a little lost.
Maya wants to yell or cry or scream or something, but the most she can bring herself to do is slump into the space next to him, fall into to his side, hide her face in his shoulder as he tentatively wraps his arms around her back.
"It's going to be okay, Maya." He presses his lips soft into her hair, an attempt to reassure her. "We can fix this."
She nods against his chest, knowing that it's just another lie.
The kettle starts whistling then, harsh, and neither makes a move to turn it off.
;
Riley finds out the following day, sometime between second and fourth period.
Maya knows this, because she seemed fine during Statistics (mentioned something about the voicemail, but they had had a test and she didn't have time to reply), but won't even look at her in English.
She expected this.
;
To: honey (riley)
i'm so sorry
Read: 7:31 pm
It's silly, she thinks as she climbs up to the Matthews' terrace in the pitch black of the night. It's been so long. The last time she used the fire-escape, she—she was coming to comfort Riley over this same goddamn boy. But now, he's not the only one that broke the sweet girl's heart.
God, she's a horrible person.
When she left Alphabet City, it was just past eleven, so it's gotta be almost midnight now. She runs her hand along the edge of one of the sills, until she feels the cool metal of the latch, but when she tries to pull it open, it sticks. For the first time in seventeen years, the bay windows are locked.
There's a little light on, blurred by a curtain, the one she keeps on her nightstand, which (disregarding the circumstances) is odd, considering the fact that she normally is asleep by nine-thirty. So, before she loses her courage, Maya taps twice on the glass of the window, and is considering scurrying back down to the frozen concrete below (it's so cold) when the fabric moves and she's face to face with Riley's, well, face.
Maya mouths Please and then, then she feels the warm rush of air, and she pulls herself through the window.
When she finally gets both feet through, sits on the maroon cushions that must have been changed out since the spring, Riley's on her bed, glaring at her hands. "What do you want?"
"I'm sorry."
Riley looks up at that, raises an eyebrow. "Sorry for what? Sorry for sleeping with my ex-boyfriend after we broke up, or sorry for sleeping with my ex-boyfriend while we were dating?"
Maya stands then—she wishes that she'd worn heels on the way here, because even with Riley sitting, she feels so small without her extra four inches. But this'll have to do. "He never cheated on you, Riles."
"God, Maya, don't call me that." Maya's never seen her so angry, or, or sad. She doesn't know. The brunette fiddles with her fingers, rubbing her thumb (a nervous tick she's had since she was little). "I don't care that he didn't physically cheat on me. I don't care that he's always been in love with you, or whatever. I just," she takes a deep breath, like she's trying to get back under control. "I just don't understand how you could be with someone you thought was my soulmate without telling me—"
"Riley—"
"—and God, I had to hear it from Farkle and not you!" A pause. "How long?"
"Seven months."
Now, she's on her feet, right up close, chests almost touching. "What the hell, Maya? Seven months and you didn't think to mention it to me?"
Maya feels something wet on her cheek, and she thinks that maybe she's crying. "I'm so sorry." She tries to take the other girl's hand, lace their fingers, but the brunette just yanks it away. "I just want to fix this. How can I fix this?"
When she looks up, she notices that her eyes are red and puffy too.
"I don't think you can."
;;
The next day, Maya tells her mother before she leaves for work that she's skipping, taking a personal day, and then sends a quick text to Zay to let him know that she's ditching, and not to ask questions or worry (she knows that he'll tell Lucas). Before she can get a response, she shuts her phone off and stuffs it into her sock drawer.
Armed with baby wipes, she goes into her bathroom and scrubs yesterday out of her skin, until it's red raw, and then washes her face with her mother's cleanser that she's never used before, before blotting away the bubbles that form and splashing her face with water (which really ends up a lot messier than the movies make it out to be).
And she's alone, for a few hours at least.
Though she feels the sudden rush of chilled air, she doesn't look up from her book, because she can guess who it is the moment the edge of her twin-sized bed dips from the sudden weight of another being.
"How did I know you'd come?" She tries to focus on her copy of Slaughterhouse Five that she picked up from the local used book-store, tries to mask the fragile tremor that laces her words with her usual air of nonchalance.
Lucas sighs, and his hand moves to cover her own, the one that's clutching at the edge of the faded page like it's her lifeline. "Zay told me about Riley," he says simply, removing his hand from hers so that instead, his fingers cup her right cheek, gently—he kisses her, gently. "How are you doing?"
"I'm tired," she admits, surprising herself. "I just, I guess it all just seems so stupid, ya know." He furrows his eyebrows, and she shrugs, continuing. "I just feel like we're in some stupid teen soap opera, or something."
He chuckles. "I know it sounds inane, but she's your best friend, and I'm your…." God, even he doesn't know what they are, but still, she smiles at him to keep going. "We're together and this is something serious, but we're gonna get through it, like we always—"
She cuts him off then, not wanting to hear the rest of his sentence because she doesn't know if she'd be able to handle it, dragging his lips onto hers. She pours herself into the kiss, consumed by his presence as his hands move to her hair, his fingers knot in her the light yellow locks, and she shifts to his lap. Silently, in this manner, she tries to explain everything that she wouldn't be able to out loud, and God, she loves him she loves him she loves him. He grins against her lips, mistaking her desperation for enthusiasm, slides an arm around her waist, begins lowering her down onto the bed and this is how all this shit got started (all she can see is Riley's face dusted a light pink when she closes her eyes), and she forces herself to push him off of her, rolls out from underneath him to stand barefoot on her carpeted floor.
"You need to leave," she says, refusing to look at him (she can easily imagine the hurt that flits across his features). Holds the door open for him. "I'm not good for you. You need to leave right now."
"Maya—"
"Please." Her lip trembles at this, but she hopes he can hear the finality in her tone, not the desperation that saturates it, her entire being. When she hears the scuffle of his feet hitting her rug, shuffling towards the door, she glances up at him, but she can't read his expression and her gaze follows him as he leaves her room and moves into the living room, then the kitchen, then through her front door.
She closes her eyes before she hears the slam.
;
"So, it wasn't me or Lucas, but Farkle who told her."
"I know, babe."
;;
Maya's not going to act like she's all innocent, that she doesn't know that her friends are looking for her when she ducks past them in the halls, the cafeteria. In fact, she's making a very conscious effort to avoid them all: Riley, for obvious reasons; Lucas, for equally as obvious reasons; Zay, because he'll just try to make her feel better; and of course Farkle, because he's Team Riley, forever and always.
Honestly, Smackle's the only one she can stand to be around right now—she has the perfect amount of sheer frankness that Maya embraces, a blunt attitude that doesn't stem from malice but from pure observation. But with Smackle comes Farkle, and so even the little genius is a no-go.
Lucas had brushed her arm in the corridor once, trying to get her attention and presumably chat about their one-sided breakup (no-sided, she wants to say), but she bolted before she could even make eye contact with him.
And now here she is, two months later, tucked away in the farthest corner of the library with a worn book in her lap, eating a stale granola bar that gradually falls onto her dark pants in miniscule yet apparent crumbs.
She's just gotten to the part in Crime and Punishment (Norton's Critical Third Edition, to be exact) where the protagonist chats with the lead investigator on the case of a murder that he is the true culprit off about how his article on needless morality has been published in a local journal—god, Russian literature is weird—when someone enters her peripheral vision.
Because she's totally grounded, her eyes remained glued to the pages (even if the words have now blurred as her internal focus has shifted) and she remains quiet.
Lucas is the first to speak.
"Can I sit here?"
She glances up, just for a mere second (fraction of a second, really), and something deep in her chest hurts. Up until now, she'd been able to avoid him, been able to breeze past him in the halls and the classroom, ignore any attempts he made to talk to her. A few weeks ago, he just ceased trying. "Nothing's stopping you."
"I thought maybe you would," he says softly, so low that she thinks it wasn't meant for her to hear. While he moves to take a seat in the large, faux-leather chair across from hers, her gaze redirects to the mental conversation Porfiry is having with himself in her hands.
They sit like this for the rest of the lunch hour; flipping through pages in a peaceful sort of quiet, and if moments like this continue to happen (and she knows it will), she thinks that maybe they could be friends again.
;;
The rest of their junior year semester continues like this, peppered with small moments where they're close, or they're passing each other in the hallway and she actually returns his smile. But then there are other times, more frequent, when she'll see him approaching and she grabs Smackle or Zay (if he isn't with Lucas) and runs in the opposite direction.
Once, she goes out with Missy again, but after a nice night of traversing the Village, after walking her to her door, the other girl rebukes her attempt at a chaste kiss and softly says that she shouldn't string her along like this. She almost throws herself back into serial dating like she did before, when Riley and Lucas were still RileyandLucas (before Maya ruined everything), but Zay sits her down before she can really get going, reminds her that dating around is fine as long as it's not a coping mechanism.
And maybe a tiny, minuscule even, portion of her heart realizes that that would be just a way for her to deal with everything,
;;
Maya spends most of her summer either working at the café (where she spends most of the time avoiding the owner's daughter), and with Zay. And Smackle too, sometimes, but it isn't as often as the blonde would like because of the girl's rather hectic schedule: tutoring, internships, etc. But she guesses that if anyone could handle such a busy lifestyle, it's Isadora.
So it's Zay that spends a lot of time across the counter from her, and he ends up at her place a lot, lazing around the apartment while they binge watch different tv shows (he gets her hooked on Brooklyn Nine-Nine and while she complains loudly about the fact that there's commercials, she secretly is a little obsessed with Amy and Jake, and has a soft spot for Rosa, who reminds her a little of her old, younger self).
It isn't until they're watching the season four finale when she glances down at Zay, who's got his head in her lap, his body draped across her sofa, and she takes in his red nail polish and his red shirt and she wonders.
And because she has a particular lack of control lately, she tells him that she's going to kiss him, and she leans down and does just that. Albeit, it's an awkward angle, but the kiss is sweet and a little chaste and no matter how much she loves him, she doesn't feel that spark she thinks that she's supposed to.
When she pulls back, he's just gazing up at her. It's a long, long moment before he speaks up.
"That was bad."
Maya laughs outright at that. She understands the concept of platonic soulmates, and she thinks that Zay might be one of hers.
"Hey, the commercials are almost over!"
And that's how they spend their summer: as best friends who whine about television shows and enable each other when it comes to seeing how much Kraft mac and cheese they can eat in one sitting. It's simple, and she's grateful.
;;
Until the drama teacher catches her in the hallway one day early in the semester, Maya hadn't even considered doing this year's musical. She hadn't given any thought to it, and brushes the older woman off and moves on to her next class.
Later in the week, when she's lying on Zay's couch (and across him) and munching on popcorn while they watch some campy television show, he clears his throat. "You read the Percy Jackson books, right?"
Maya raises her eyebrows. "Are you going to ask me to do the musical? Filna already asked about it."
He nods his head, and opens his mouth to speak but she cuts him off.
"I won't do it if he's doing it, Babineaux. I'm not going to do that to him, I've hurt him enough already."
Zay rolls his eyes at that, responds with: "He's gonna be busy with baseball."
Worried, Maya bites her lip, but when his eyes soften, she sighs, says she'll try out for the stupid musical.
And then after the audition (she goes in on the first day; the second is for those wanting to do more of the ensemble), she asks the assistant director, junior Allen Brand, why they're choosing to do such a radical change from the performance of Hamilton her sophomore year, and he laughs, says that it cost so much money to do, that they zapped most of their funds and are running a more low budget production this time around—he tells her later that they're planning on doing Great Comet in a couple years if they can get the licensing and need to save for that.
Maya reads for the parts of Annabeth, Sally and Clarisse (though she doesn't think she'll get the latter; she's not an inch over five foot and most don't consider her right off the bat as "menacing," though Farkle and Zay would say otherwise), and isn't surprised the following week when she sees her name under the female lead's, nor is she shocked at her best friend being right below hers for Grover Underwood, but her heart does stop, just for a moment, when she sees "Luke Castellan — Lucas Friar" in bold, dark ink.
Shit.
And right on cue it seems, her phone dings with a text from her now ex-best friend.
From: Babe-ineaux (zay)
assuming that you just got out of art and read the cast list, i'm sorry, i didn't know.
To: trash (zay)
you're dead to me
From: trash (zay)
i have a chimichanga with your name on it
To: recycled material (zay)
you're now only in a medically induced coma
And that's how she ends up here, curled up against Zay on the velvet loveseat in the corner of the black box theater, where the rest of the cast is. Filna calls roll: the protagonist, played by sophomore Danny Sadiua (who's a good eight or nine inches taller than her), the rest of the trio (her and the boy next to her), and the list continues, and the only one not present is the villain of the story.
"Friar?" Filna asks again.
"He might be getting out of practice," suggests Zay, and the older woman clucks her tongue twice, before the doors to the theater open and in comes Lucas, and when his eyes meet hers ever so briefly, Maya thinks she can't breathe. He moves to sit on the opposite side of the room, apologizing as he finds a place next to their Clarisse La Rue (freshman Camila Hernandez).
What did she get herself into?
;;
This time, Maya throws herself into rehearsal, but even surrounded by so many people while putting on an angst-ridden pop rock musical, she feels much more alone than during the previous production. For one, it is technically a smaller cast and shorter runtime, but the choreography is much more solitary and simple, and Zay has to split his time between her and him when they have any sort of break, and she feels awful and she doesn't want to bring it up, because she also doesn't have Farkle now.
But thankfully (unfortunately, she thinks), Luke Castellan is a more minor character, and they only feature in five out of the nineteen songs together, and even then, they don't really interact. She focuses more on the lyrics, the choreography, everything but the blond boy that stands only a few feet away from her, so close that if she reached out, she could brush his skin with her fingers.
She feels more comfortable when they're practicing in the black box, scattered around on different pieces of furniture, for the seventh track. It's a lighter song, where the demigods sit around a campfire and complain about their absent parents while one of the ensemble members plays a guitar. During the actual performance, it'll be the pit that performs this part, but right now it's a small Filipina girl who plays Katie Gardner, daughter of Demeter.
Maya knows it's ridiculous to relate so incredibly well to a couple of fictional characters, but learning the lyrics, embedding the pain-ridden words describing their absent parents, it's like tattooing the feeling into her heart even more so than when she read the books as a kid. She loves her mother, and she's glad to have her around now, but that doesn't negate the fact that for most of her life, the woman flitted in and out of it, and her father left before she could even really understand why.
So when Danny sings of his AWOL father—did he not want me? or not want the stress?—Maya is suddenly glad that she doesn't have his role, because god, that hits so close to home. And they get to listen in on him rehearse his emotional solo, "Good Kid," for the first time outside of the music room so he can get notes from the drama teacher, and she and Zay are in the wings, waiting for the next scene that doesn't actually feature any singing (which is a relief, as she has to hit some pretty high notes and her throat is still raw from the day before). But with each new verse, the blonde feels as though she's thirteen again, with an empty home at night and a rebellious streak a mile wide.
She doesn't realize that she starts crying, but then she feels a hand, soft, on her shoulder. And so she closes her eyes, turns into Zay's chest but she thinks that he's taller for some reason, and then he stiffens, she pulls away to see that his skin is not dark but instead beige, and she looks up and curses when she sees that it's Lucas.
He looks more concerned than anything, and she aches to touch him again, but she just mutters out a quick "sorry" and strides over to Zay, who's watching the exchange with wide eyes. He doesn't have to say anything for Maya to scowl at him, scoff that "nothing happened," and wrap her arm around his waist.
Zay sighs noticeably, but kisses her hair anyways.
;;
"You're gonna have to talk to him sometime, Hart."
"And you're gonna have to leave my store if I kick you out for loitering, Babineaux," Maya says as she passes by the counter where he's perched on one of the barstools, an empty glass that once contained a mango-banana smoothie in front of him. She's able to work at Topanga's sparingly this musical season, considering how much more lax the rehearsal schedule is in comparison to last time.
She reaches for the half-full coffeepot as he continues. "You would never kick me out; I'm your best friend."
In response, she just rolls her eyes and goes to refill a customer's mug across the café, and when she returns, she sees a bright young girl with dark hair and dark eyes, smiling widely and placing her schoolbag precisely on the seat next to Zay. "Smackle!"
Smackle smiles widely and opens up her arms for the blonde, which she doesn't think has ever happened before. Maya shrugs it off though, and hugs the girl tightly. She doesn't remember the last time she saw her; they had completely different schedules and lunch blocks, and Maya's been so busy with the musical and work, while Smackle's been doing her… internship? She isn't quite able to process the babble that comes out of her mouth, at least not at first.
"What are you doing here?" She hopes it doesn't sound too prodding; Maya's glad that her friend is here, but ever since Farkle and her broke up, she'd avoided their old stomping grounds. In addition, she made a point about how much she didn't really care for their drinks (something about how most of the workers had no idea how long to steep tea).
Smackle explains that she has a project to work on for AP Economics and that her partner is in the bathroom, so if she could please get him a caramel macchiato with extra whip cream and syrup (familiar) and a cup of water for herself, no ice?
Maya nods in confirmation, then moves to the back to grab the syrup (after asking Zay to watch the counter for just a moment, it's a slow day), and when she finds it, she grumbles loudly to him because almost no one orders anything caramel in this day and age, but stops dead in her tracks when it's not Zay or even Smackle sitting at the counter anymore, but Lucas.
"I'm gonna kill him," she mumbles. But she guesses it wasn't quiet enough for him not to hear, as he starts apologizing and getting up. She waves him off. "I'm just pissed that Zay left. I told him to watch the register."
She tries to emanate an air of nonchalance, because she's Maya fucking Hart who doesn't care about anyone except maybe Zay (used to be Riley). But in truth, there's an itch that pricks at her skin that tells her to run, run as far away as she can from this blond boy with a storm brewing inside him. Grounded only by the buzz of her phone in her pocket, she moves slowly to place the syrup bottle next to the vanilla, grabs a red mug from a cabinet above her.
Maya gets to work on the drink; it's not like it's a particularly busy day as she can in fact, there are only two other patrons in the store and they both just got a refill on their caffeine, so she doesn't have an excuse for ignoring him or the order. "Where'd he go, anyway?"
Lucas must be shocked that she's actually speaking to him, because it takes him a moment to respond, like he's looking around for someone else she could have directed the words to. "Um, Smackle said that she had to go to the bathroom, and then she took Zay with her. He seemed confused."
"I wonder when he's gonna admit that he likes her," she muses as she adds steamed milk to the cup.
Lucas makes a weird, choked sort of noise in the back of his throat, which prompts her to raise a brow quizzically. He starts to gesticulate in that frazzled way he does, as he tries to explain. "Well, I just thought… you and him..."
He lets the sentence trail off, but she gets the gist and she laughs, explains that they've never been like that, not really, (but makes a note not to mention the fact that they tried last summer, and it, it just didn't work). In an effort to carry on the conversation, she asks how he is, and his answer is vague. As is hers. And then, it's awkward as she starts on his drink, and then he's standing, saying that "I'm just gonna go, I'm sorry."
But then he checks his phone when it chirps, and scrunches up his face in the way she misses. "Did you get a text from Zay?"
She vaguely remembers her phone buzzing earlier, but she always puts him on mute when she's working (he's a double, triple texter), and when she checks, she sees that it's Smackle who texted.
From: Izzy
I'm very sorry, Maya, but I miss you and Lucas won't admit it but he does too. Zay and I are in the family bathroom, and we will not come out until you two resolve this situation. Lucas and I have a project to work on together, and I'd like to work on it sooner than later, or else I will complete the entire thing tonight and let our teacher know, resulting in a zero for Lucas. So don't keep us long. Zay sent a similar message to Lucas, but likely with much more erroneous grammar.
Maya sighs.
"I guess you got the same 'talk to each other or we'll never come out of the bathroom' text from Zay?"
She nods. "From Smackle, actually."
"Would this count as blackmail or inverted kidnapping?" He tries to keep his tone light, but she notices the discomfort lacing his words easily.
"I think this would be considered a hostage situation," she supplies, and the laugh that bursts from his chest is something akin to a knife in between her ribs. She doesn't realize how much she missed it.
In an effort to busy herself, to redirect her train of thought, Maya throws herself into making his drink, and as she almost mechanically goes through the motions (she used to fix this for him every day in what seems a lifetime ago), she idly wonders how Zay and Smackle expect to know when exactly they talk or make up or whatever the hell their endgame is. Just as she's about to voice her query, Lucas speaks up. It surprises her.
"I think—"
She interrupts, "It's okay, Lucas. We don't have to—"
"No, Maya, I think we do." He doesn't sound angry or frustrated even, but it's like his words stem from a sort of desperation, and in all honesty, she doesn't blame him. With each second he's here, something deep in her chest aches more and more. He leans forward on the bar, but averts his eyes from straying towards her. "Listen, I'm sorry I pushed you."
She tries to cut in, but he just simply shakes his head and continues. "I know you don't think I did, but you were right when you said that our relationship wasn't the healthiest, but it wasn't all on you. It was the both of us." He pauses for a moment. But no matter how much she wants to argue that point, it's true. They spent most of their actual friendship/official relationship either in secret, or going behind her childhood best friend's back. Every once in a while, she'll allow herself to reminisce on those months that they spent stealing kisses in dark corners and in the warmth of the early morning sun, but that sense of guilt (knowing what her happiness was causing) seeped into the memories, tarnishing them for her. "I miss you, Hart. I miss my friend."
At this point, she's got her back to him, her palms flat against the slick countertop. And then his macchiato is done, and she's hands it and a wine-colored napkin to him, takes a deep breath. "I missed you too, cowboy."
;;
For such a tumultuous breakup, they fall back into the familiarity of friendship rather smoothly.
At first, it seems that Lucas doesn't know where he stands with her, and in truth, she doesn't know. But when he comes to rehearsal one day, a frown between his brows as his eyes dart between her place on the couch with Zay and the other side of the room, where he normally resides, she just smiles and motions for him to come over to them. He sits on the ground, at their feet.
Zay makes a comment about how glad he is that they've got the gang back together, and while she laughs, she doesn't like the pit in her stomach that reminds that no, not all of them. But in all honesty, it feels good to have Zay's arm around her waist and Lucas so near, and it doesn't bother her (not at all) when the other students file in, and note with surprise their arrangement.
Edward (who's playing the titan lord Kronos and the disgustingly evil stepfather Smelly Gabe and someone else) looks like he's about to say something smart, and in response, she hits him with a withering look and he slinks off into a corner.
And then everything seems to fall back into place. Sure, she has to fight the urge to hold his hand or wrap her arms around his torso or pull him down for a kiss every once in a while, but she's grateful for the chance to call him her friend again.
Her friend, whom she has totally platonic feelings for. That friend.
That all being said, rehearsals are so much more enjoyable now, even as they become more and more pressed for time, because she doesn't have to avoid one of the other (somewhat) major characters in the musical. She can goof around with him while Danny does a solo, or while they're singing the campfire song and they all have that sort of camaraderie and she's so happy.
As the end of semester approaches, they're polishing up the first act after learning the second, and with that also comes an increase in stress in other areas of her life. But when she wants to curl up in a ball and cry over the prospect of the future and graduation, she can lie on his couch and put her feet in his lap while he puts on Bob's Burgers to binge watch. She likes it more when Zay's here too, because then she has a place for her head (she can't bring herself to broach that particular barrier with Lucas). But she likes the quiet that the Friar residence offers.
At the beginning of November, on a day where the wind bites and they immediately regret even leaving the comfort and warmth of their respective apartments, they're somewhere in the middle of Central Park. Tucked between the trees, the trio lies on the soft earth, their backs against the decaying foliage that serves as the top-most layer.
She lies in the middle of them, her head on Zay's chest, Lucas' arm haphazardly thrown around her waist. Every time that they're together, and they're like this, she almost wants to cry because she didn't realize just how much she missed not only Lucas, but just how they all fit with each other, like a puzzle that she didn't know needed solving.
She'd be content to lie here forever, Zay stroking her hair softly and the other talking about baseball or whatever else is on his mind. But then Lucas brings up her solo, which involves a ridiculous broad vocal range, and she gets fired up about it every time.
"I mean, fuck Mercher—" the choir director "—because like, I know it's similar to the song I auditioned with and everything, but she's so nit-picky I swear to god my throat's going to be shredded to pieces by the end of all of this."
Lucas chuckles. "The real Annabeth Chase wouldn't whine so much, you know. She'd take it as a challenge and blow Mercher away."
"My take on the daughter of Athena involves her complaining until her dying breath," she retorts.
"Still more accurate than the movie." That was Zay, grumbling, and the other two nearly choke on their laughter. The film adaptation has always been a sore spot for the cast, and as far as Maya's concerned, the only good part of that movie was its lead (she still thinks that Danny is far better in the role; some idiot complained that Percy Jackson wasn't Muslim and that he wasn't good enough for the part, which first of all is stupid—Danny has the perfect windswept black hair and a voice that reflects the angst of the character to a 'T'—and secondly, is racist, leading to her and Lucas and Zay having a "talk" with the boy that didn't know when to shut his fat mouth).
Over the next hour or so, right before the sun begins to fall and the sky erupts into fire and cool tones, Zay and Maya oscillate between quietly singing their parts, with Lucas supplying any specifically Percy dialogue he can remember, and Maya's nearly drifted into a light slumber by the time Zay starts on his character's "I Want" song; a piece that she thinks resonates with the blond, because it's about the satyr's desire to protect his friends, to protect those he cares about.
And in truth, she doesn't know what to say when Lucas asks softly, "Have y'all thought about college?"
Because she hasn't allowed herself to think about the mere prospect of paying for school, much less the reality that she'd need to figure out what the hell she wants to do with the rest of her life, a question she doesn't know the answer to. And she's not sure she ever will.
"I don't know," she says, because it's honest and those words are easier than anything else she could say.
And then next to her, Zay shifts. "I'm thinking about this performing arts school that's here in the city."
Maya smiles—she'd always known that he enjoyed ballet and musical theatre, but she didn't know that he loved it that much. She thinks he'll do well, wherever he goes. "What about you, Friar?"
"Mom's been pushing me to go to this vet school."
"Isn't that what you've always wanted to do?"
Lucas pauses, won't look at her. "I'm an Aggie legacy, and they've got one of the best programs out there."
"Aggie, as in A&M?" Zay asks. Maya wasn't aware of what an Aggie was, and still isn't.
Lucas nods, grimly.
Zay shakes his head. "I can't believe I never knew this about you, man. We grew up in Austin, I thought we were both UT."
Maya raises her eyebrows; she isn't following the flow of conversation. He's mad about him liking another college? And then it dawns on her. In all honesty, she hadn't expected him to ever leave New York. His home is here, or so he's always said. She'd just never considered the possibility. Texas?
"It'd be cheaper than going to most schools, at least around here," he says, after a minute or so of silence.
He and Zay seem to be waiting for her response, but it never comes.
;;
She spends Christmas morning with her mother, who gets her a painting kit and a few large canvases. Maya doesn't remember the last time she painted, but she thanks her warmly. They take the early hours and catch up, over hot cocoa and waffles piled high with strawberries and chocolate syrup and whip cream.
Afterwards, her mother goes to open up the shop, just so that those who don't have family on Christmas have the chance to be somewhere cozy and filled with a sort of cheer. When she leaves, Maya takes this as an opportunity to open her gift, and she nearly cries at the familiar chemical smell of oils and acrylics, and she breaks out some of her old brushes and gets to work.
She doesn't realize how late it is until she hears a sharp tap at her window; she freezes, for a moment, because Zay only ever uses the front door (not that he knocks or even announces himself, but he's always found going in through a window to be rude), and she doesn't remember the last time anyone's ever done that. But when she glances over, she sees a familiar face attached to a grimace that she also recognizes, scarlet blushing his cheeks.
When she goes over to open the window, he's got his eyebrows raised, and she follows his gaze to her hands, which are covered in splotches of color. "You've been painting?"
She rolls her eyes, ushers for him to get in already, you're letting out the heat, and he fumbles his way in, fumbles the latch close, fumbles his coat off as she directs and then onto her bed, while she sits on the floor with her canvas. And he's a little pitiful, looking lost and terrified as she realizes he hasn't been in her room for over a year now.
"Do you want some cocoa?" She'd normally offer tea, just because that's what she tends to drink on winter days like this, but it's the holidays, and she's feeling festive.
He nods fervently, and so Maya's off to the kitchen. She decides to put in a couple of marshmallows and whip cream, just for good measure. And then sprinkles too—she just grabs the first container she sees, not caring about the color.
When she returns with the hot drink, he's stopped shivering from the cold, and graciously accepts the mug from her. He chuckles, but just barely. "Red sprinkles?" Her eyes must widen at this, because he just shrugs it off. "Thank you, Maya. Nice to know you have some holiday cheer."
She tries to tell herself that it's just a coincidence, but there's a nagging voice inside her head that sounds a lot like Zay that tells her that it's not. She shakes it off, though, and goes back to her painting while he haphazardly drinks his cocoa.
And it's like that, for a few minutes, until she can't take the silence anymore. "Why did you use my fire-escape, instead of the stairs?"
"I couldn't remember your apartment number," he admits. "It's been a long time since I've been here."
"So instead you decided to scale the fire escape. That you hate. Why didn't you just text me and ask? Why are you here?"
He takes a sip, and his upper lip becomes stained with the chocolate and whipped cream. "I-I don't know. My dad decided to visit, see if he could patch things up again and—" Her face softens at this fact. The last time his dad was here… it wasn't pretty." But she nods, encourages him to continue. "—and we apparently couldn't patch it up. I didn't know where else to go, and I left before I even knew, I don't even have my phone."
Before Lucas even finishes she's beside him on her worn comforter, her arm around his shoulder. He isn't crying, but his voice has grown thick with the possibility of it. When he starts shaking again, she moves his mug to sit instead on her nightstand, and wraps herself around him, leans her head into the juncture between his collarbone and his neck, and just lets him… emote.
He ends up staying the night, but on the couch and not on her bed, but neither end up falling asleep until early morning, instead taking the time to watch stupid reruns of Christmas cartoons and forgetting about the crappy aspects of their lives, if only for tonight.
;;
Her favorite part about playing the lead female character, Maya finds, is actually the wardrobe. She doesn't have any costume changes, so she gets to just wear medium wash skinny jeans, a striped shirt and sneakers, and so that makes dress rehearsal go that much more smoothly than it could have. Plus, it's much easier to fight monsters in pants than full period pieces complete with heeled boots. Danny's not that tall, nor is Zay, so she doesn't have to worry about looking like a child next to them, though she could still pass for a twelve year old if she tried.
That being said, she thinks that the costumes are the only thing that goes without complications at their first dress rehearsal.
Zay's shaggy pants that are supposed to represent the satyr's furry rump are much too big and keep falling around his waist, and no one can seem to hit their marks for "Bring On the Monsters." Jada, their old Lafayette, has trouble getting into her oracle costume so soon after her floral overall shorts for the prophecy number, which they end up fixing by just having the stagehands throw her entire garment over her camp ensemble.
Their Clarisse has a nasty cold, Mrs. Dodd's puppet demons keep getting tangled together, the light cues are off, the toilet paper canons aren't working properly, and Maya can't seem to hit the high notes in "My Grand Plan" like she should, and fuck, it all just sucks a lot. After a while, Filna seems like she just wants to give up, and they do one last run-through of the show, and it's slightly better but still not great.
It's nearing ten o'clock, Maya has a paper due the next day, Zay's getting a rash from his pants, and Lucas is having problems remembering his lines, and they all decide to stop by some frozen yogurt place in the Village.
Maya nearly collapses on the floor while Zay gets her standard huge ass cup and fills it with chocolate, her go-to when she feels like she's gonna crash. Lucas drags her over to one of the couches instead, and she lays her head on his shoulder as she angrily eats her yogurt and, in between bites, rants about her English teacher for assigning them two projects and an essay over Oscar Wilde due within a few days of each other. And then she closes her eyes, lifts her head, sighs, groans, and then yelps when she feels something cold and wet on her forehead. When she begrudgingly reaches up, it's sticky and when she opens her eyes, it's a raspberry.
Slowly, she glances over at Lucas, who shrugs, his fingers stained red. "You wouldn't shut up."
;;
The following rehearsal goes much more smoothly, although they do have to evacuate the auditorium for about an hour when the fog machine malfunctions. Maya even finishes her essay before class starts, and then on that Thursday, the day of their first show, the entire cast and crew wears their vivid Camp Half Blood shirts with the musical information and dates on the back.
Maya even poaches a Yankees baseball cap from the guy who plays Chiron and gets yelled at by various administrators for wearing a hat in the school building, but she lies and tells them it's a part of her costume (even though obviously, it'd make her invisible if it really was). Lucas laughs behind her in government when she tells their teacher she can't give her presentation because their director put her on strict vocal rest, and she can barely contain her own giggles when Jada starts muttering under her breath in Calculus, mixing up the inspirational lyrics of her first number ("The things that make you different are the very things that make you strong") with her part of the campfire song where she sings of her mother Aphrodite crashing her dates while wearing a nightgown.
And then it's five minutes before their first performance, and Maya's digging her nails into her palms because she's nervous, and because this is so different from her only other experience with musicals, where there are actual scenes and not just songs, but then she's in front of the lights as part of the ensemble for the prologue and she forgets about all of the bad.
She thinks she likes having more spoken lines, because it's a hilarious show, and she loves the sound of laughter that erupts from the audience when Danny sings of her beauty only for her to let him know that he drools in his sleep, or when he gets his sword for the first time and makes lightsaber noises, or when Silena hypes up Clarisse during what is essentially three minutes of the daughter of the god of war dragging the protagonist through the mud, up until he reigns supreme as the lord of the bathroom.
Zay gets to do his number as Mr. D, sending the audience into hysterics because god damn, he is that good, and then the entire campfire number goes over so well with them and Maya's happy because this is just them goofing off and dancing around the stage while lamenting about their absent parents and she gets to put her arms around her boys and joke around with them and stand on top of pillars (which has quickly become one of her favorite things).
As expected, the theater is dead quiet during Danny's main solo, and she thinks she even hears gasps when he hangs from the graffitied scaffolding that serves as their set and almost makes to jump after singing "all you get are bad grades and a bum rap and a bad rep and a good smack and no friends and no hope and no mom." She almost cried when he'd done that the first time they'd practiced it all.
And then they get they're off on their "killer" quest, a big number that's really energetic and hopeful even, before the lights go out and Danny's grabbing both her and Zay's hands because their characters are terrified and alone, with just each other.
With the end of act one, they have a fifteen minute break, which Maya uses to relieve herself. Upon her return, her first objective is to find Danny and just check in with him, tell him that he's doing great because he's doing so fucking amazing, and she wonders how she came off to the seniors she worked with during her sophomore production, because she's sure she wasn't nearly as good as him, even though she wasn't technically in the title role.
She doesn't ruminate on that for very long; soon enough, there's a hand on her arm and she turns to see Lucas, and he's frowning and she doesn't want him to frown like that ever again. So before he can even open his mouth, she winds her arms around his neck and tugs him close, hugs the life out of him, and soon enough his own limbs encircle her waist. They stay like that for a minute or two, before she pulls away and smiles.
"You've got this, Luke Castellan," she teases. He's only got a few more scenes, but they're towards the end, and she knows that that makes him more nervous than anything; the chance that he could forget his lines or not meet his mark or that his prop sword might not work or any number of things. "And if you mess up, I'll just choose Danny over you, like I do in the show."
And that gets him to smile, even if it's just the barest whisper of upturned lips, but before he can respond, there's a hand on her shoulder and it's one of the stage techs telling her it's time to get into position for the second act, so she just squeezes his hand once and then moves and readies herself.
She thinks that this is even more of a crowd pleaser than the first: the comedic "Lost!" gets a rousing bout of guffaws (mainly stemmed from the interaction between the trio and an easily offended squirrel who ends up scoring Amtrak tickets and just Zay, in general), Maya's solo goes over surprisingly well and she thinks she starts crying a little bit during "A Tree On the Hill," Danny blows them all away anytime he opens his mouth, and Lucas' dark reprise of "Good Kid" makes her heart sink in her chest, even though it's probably the hundredth time she's heard it.
There are quiet awws when she and Danny have a "moment" after he gets stabbed in the back, and then the whole show ends with a rousing finale that gets her adrenaline pumping and she can't help the grin that spreads across her face when the curtains finally close.
The next day is a blur—while she knows that some people have complained that the show is too "childish," she wants to argue that that's the point. It's supposed to be silly and fun and on Friday, after curtain call when she gets to go out and talk to parents and friends, she's startled by the amount of kids who come up to her and tell her that they want to be Annabeth Chase when they grow up. It forces her eyes to well up, just a little bit, and it makes it all worth it.
The last night is probably their best show, proven by the reverberation of the audience's laughter against the walls of the auditorium, and the fact that she can't stop crying afterwards. Lucas rubs circles into the small of her back as they make their way through the crowd, only leaving her side to talk to one of his teachers while she goes to get a bouquet of roses courtesy of a few girls from her AP Chemistry class.
When they meet up again, it's at the cast party that starts at midnight, and really, she should be dead tired, but all she can think about is his hand on her hip and the fact that all she can see is red: his shirt, a dark maroon; his cheeks, lightly dusted with the promise of a blush; the tips of his ears, burning bright with the compliment one of the ensemble throws at him. At one point, Zay catches her eye and nods, seeing something else in the space between them that she doesn't, and she doesn't dare to hope.
So, Maya runs.
Or really, she walks.
But what else could someone expect of her? She makes a quick excuse about something she doesn't even remember now, and she sits on the tile floor of the hallway, her back pressed against the red lockers that reminds her eerily of two years ago.
When she hears footsteps approaching her, she half expects it to be Farkle coming to talk to her, but as she looks up, it's Lucas.
He doesn't say anything, just lowers himself down next to her.
"I missed you," is all she says, before he's reaching for her and she's reaching for him, and when they kiss, it's quiet and soft and not anything like their first or even last kiss. To the casual observer, it's probably all too rushed, but she thinks that it's like coming home.
a/n: i'm literally so sorry that this took so long to post. initially, this was supposed to be about 5k, sort of an epilogue, but then it transpired into a 14k ramble and i cut even that off a little bit (it could've probably been about 20k but i'm really tired and i've been putting off finishing this fic for a long time).
a few things to note:
1. i fell in love with the lightning thief musical and decided that it would be part of the story, so if you didn't like it, i'm sorry. but go listen to it. please.
2. it took all i had not to make this a zaya fic at the end, but that would have cheapened it i think. anyways, i love zaya and was tempted to write more of it than what made it in the fic. also, they're totally platonic soulmates
3. i might write an actual epilogue, so if that's something you'd into, let me know.
4. this is probably going to be my last lucaya fic ever, so . fun.
5. i can't believe how long this is what the heck i didn't intend for this to be this long, especially since there isn't really a plot.
anyways, if you liked this,, please leave a review & let me know what you think!