AN: The ending is done but I didn't want to make this a two-parter. It would throw off the whole sequence of chapters, so I'm just reposting. Skip to the end if you want or re-read.


The hem of his pants ripped, climbing Lucas' fire escape. Fuck it, though. This was an emergency. Farkle's palms split with glass, pounding on the window. It looked like Lucas was working out. Normally, Farkle would've peeped in, saw that his best friend was busy doing something more important than whatever his "problem" was and shrink off back to his apartment. But, again, this was an emergency.

It was when Lucas put down his weights, his was able to see the fragile blue eyes in his view. Hurriedly, he opened his window and Farkle came in, hitting the floor then pacing.

"Farkle?" Something was wrong, so obviously wrong. "Farkle, talk. What's the matter?" Lucas pleaded, but he was too lost in his own head. The words he did give made no sense whatsoever. Not to him, anyway and that worried Lucas because he considered himself to be pretty fluent in Farkle by now.

"We went to school. We studied. We talked. We went to the party. Danced, drank, did drugs. I left, she stayed - "

"She who?"

" - I went home and prepped for Princeton, then I fell asleep. She came to me crying and we-we-we - " Farkle was short-circuiting. Farkle was having a panic attack. Slowly as the boy in the suit stuttered, Lucas put his hands on his shoulders, sitting him down on his bed gently. The next thing Farkle heard was running water. Lucas came out his bathroom with a cup full. He didn't even notice him leave.

As he gulped down the water, Lucas said, "OK, now. Tell me what happened."

Farkle drank the whole cup and sighed. "Last night, I had sex. With Riley."

"... Goddamn almighty ... Wow." Farkle studied Lucas' reaction. He saw a flicker of something like a revelation but he decided to ignore it for now.

Instead, he sighed, "yeah. Wow."

Neither of them spoke for a spell. Lucas then managed, "well... how d'ya feel?"

So many emotions and words and thoughts came to Farkle and they all added up to one single statement. "It doesn't make sense."

"What doesn't make sense?"

"Why did Riley come to me? Why did Riley want to have sex with me... and not you?"

Lucas' eyes grew wide, "What? W-what? Why would she-?"

" - when we studied she talked about you two getting back together." Lucas was blushing and beginning to sweat like he was flustered. Lucas Friar was never flustered, that was more a Farkle Minkus thing. Still, Farkle noted it secretly as well. "She said there has to be a reason why you were the only serious relationship the other has had."

"Yeah, because we were pressured into thinking we were meant to be together by middle school drama." Huffing, Lucas carded a hand through his hair and turned to his best friend. "Farkle, look. Riley and I? That's a finished chapter. I don't know - maybe I led her into thinking that we could start dating again by accident but I promise, we're done."

"But, if she still has feelings for you - "

"I would never be with someone I knew you cared about, Farkle." Lucas said with finality. "Whatever my feelings or hers, I wouldn't do that to you."

Farkle bit his lip. "Did you know then? In middle school?"

Lucas carefully chose his words, "I had... a hunch but nothing certain. I didn't really know, like I know now, y'know?"

Farkle cast his eyes out the window to the city, pensive. "What happened in between the time I left and the time she showed up at my door?"

Lucas did the same. "I don't know. I didn't really hang out with Riley much last night. Not that I remember, anyway." He snapped back to Farkle, showcasing his pearly whites. "Farkle, instead of analyzing this to death, why not be a little excited? This could mean something big for you two! Something more."

"It still doesn't make any sense. Lucas, she came to me crying. Something really bad happened last night."

Lucas pursed his lips and looked out the ground. Then, eyeing the Farkle's nice attire, he remembered the interview his friend had. "How'd it go at Princeton?"

"What? Oh, not good."


Farkle's crossed leg bounced as he watched the clock on the wall tick. His therapist sat across from him. Every now again, she'd look over the tip of her glasses and write something down, though he wasn't saying anything. It was weird for Farkle; he usually didn't mind talking to Linda. It was one of this favorite parts of the week. The problem was that he couldn't answer the simple question: "So, what happened in the time that I saw you last?"

He wanted to jump up and shout, "WHAT HAPPENED? WHAT THE FUCK DIDN'T HAPPEN?" Instead, he just sighed and said, "A lot."

Linda took a sip of tea. "Care to share?"

Farkle thought about how he wanted to word his statement before answering, "I had my interview at Princeton last week."

"Yes, I remember. How do you think it went?"

"Awful." Farkle didn't hesitate to say it. "I was late by at least 20 minutes, I was nervous and jittery and I couldn't look at the guy and I stuttered - at one point, I just held my shoe in my hands! I-I don't even know how it got there!"

Her voice was soothing, "Why do you think that happened?"

Farkle gulped and looked away from her. The gears in his brain creaked to a halt. He knew why it happened: Riley. He prepared himself so well for that interview for Princeton's summer program. He arranged a lunch with a student who had got in and based off of their meeting, wrote note cards of universal answers to the questions. He had his suit pressed and his shoes shined. His alarm was supposed to wake him up at 8:30. However, the thing that woke Farkle was his butler, Terrence, hovering over him and looking confused. He was still on the floor, wearing only a blanket. Riley was gone. She didn't even say goodbye.

"I don't know." Farkle managed. "Nerves, maybe. Probably."

Linda tightened her lips and scribbled something down again. "Well, possibly it didn't go as bad as you thought and even if it had, would that be the worst thing in the world? You could still go to another school."

"This is Princeton. When my father got in, he immediately started saving up so I could go. Trust me, there is no other place in this world."

"Have you spoken to him about it?"

"… Can we talk about something else?"

Linda smiled softly, "Sure. What else would you like to talk about?"

"The Spring Rally. I have a performance tomorrow."

"How are you feeling about that?"

"Pretty good. I mean, singing is something that comes kind of natural to me, so," he shrugged. "Talking, however…" Farkle made a nervous chuckle and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Farkle, you have anxiety. It's a disorder. It's not your fault."

"I know it's not; that's the worst part of it. I know that it's just a combination of my upbringing and my brain receptors going haywire but… I absolutely hate that this is something that I can't fix. I know the problem and I know I'm not the one that caused it but I can't fix it. So, now I'm just reduced to another rude rich kid who doesn't talk because I'm a snob or because I think I'm too smart everyone.

But really, I'm just thinking all the time about what people want to hear and how to get people not to dislike me. Every move, every word is calculated and if I can't get it perfect than I don't want to say anything at all. I can never relax! My brain is always going, it's always… It keeps me being the person I want to be. It's not fair… I don't want to feel this way anymore and I'm scared that I'll feel this way forever."

Linda sympathetically tilted her head and passed Farkle a box of tissues. She made a heavy sigh, "Farkle, there are only two types of people in this world: people with mental illness and people who it hasn't hit yet. You're not alone in anything you're feeling. This isn't something that goes away completely but you learn to live with it. You learn to not let it define you. You're still learning and it never stops. Life is longer than most realize and Farkle, you've been getting better all the time. Celebrate. You have a reason to. The reason being that you are still here." Farkle made a weak smile, his eyes involuntarily welling with tears. She turned her head upwards, looking at the time. "Time's up."

Linda went back to her desk and found one appointment card to give Farkle. "Same time next week?"

He took the card, "Yeah." She escorted him to the door, patting his back as his sniffed and wiped his eyes. Before he left, she said, "And Farkle? Have a happy birthday."

He made a crooked grin, "Thanks, Dr. Smackle."

Farkle waited outside for his car to come and get him. He lit up a cigarette. It was a habit he adopted from his mother, like his becoming good looks. Although, she did it to keep skinny; he did it to keep from talking to himself in public. He leaned against the wall, observing a girl that kept looking at him from the corner of her eye. She was cute but she wasn't - you know. When they finally made direct eye contact, Farkle wanted to flee the scene immediately. He wouldn't even know where to go, but he just wanted to get out of dodge.

Then, she started to walk right up to him, big brown eyes never wavering. Fuck, he was frozen.

"Did you know that in between 1964 and 2014, 2.5 million people died from exposure to secondhand smoke, according to a report from the U.S. Surgeon General?" Her voice was commanding and matter-of-fact.

Quickly, Farkle snuffed out his newly lit cigarette against the brick building, muttering an unneeded apology. Seeing him blush and stutter, the girl realized that she was the one who should be apologizing.

"No, I'm sorry," she followed. "That was rude of me. Instead of greeting you properly, I scold you for your vices like I'm your mother. Allow me to reintroduce myself. My name is Isadora." She stuck out her hand at an acute angle. Farkle shook it slowly and firmly. She had a better handshake than most of his father's colleagues.

"Farkle Minkus." He started.

"Minkus... Your father is Stuart Minkus, C.E.O. and founder of Minkus Enterprises. Your mother is Jennifer Bassett-Minkus, former actress and model, now owner of BM cosmetics."

She sounded like she was reading off a newspaper, where they were very likely to be found. No use in denying it. "Yep. The gruesome twosome." He made a crooked smirk to himself before taking it back. He shouldn't talk about his parents like that to people who don't know them, especially with their status. "I mean, they're good parents and all, I - I was just joking." Isadora nodded and Farkle thought he needed to say something else to fill the space between them. "So, do you go to Dr. Smackle?" It seemed like a practical question in his head but then he thought about the implication that the girl needed therapy and how offensive it might be. "I-I-I mean, not that you would need to or anything but - "

"No, my mom works here." Isadora answered. She didn't seem bothered. Farkle was relieved.

"What school do you go to?"

"Einstein. You?"

"Adams Charter."

"Huh. Your parents didn't put you in private?"

"They wanted to but I wanted to be with my friends. Also... I reasoned that I could be at the top of my class a bit more easily there."

"You don't want the challenge? The rush of learning new things, of being the best?" She was getting a bit passionate. "I really love academia."

Farkle chuckled, "me too. Sometimes I get bored at Adams, but like I said, I have friends there."

"Well, not to be disrespectful but you don't care that they're holding you back? I mean, you could make friends at Einstein. You could make friends anywhere."

His parents have been saying that for years but it took someone who was pretty much a stranger for him to really consider it. Farkle knew that he could have more opportunities for educational growth at other schools but somehow, he thought being around the people he knew since was nine was more important. He put them first, instead of himself. He did that a lot. Honestly, for the life of him, Farkle couldn't remember the last time any of them did that for him.

Soon, a black, sleek town car pulled up on the curb. Farkle pointed it out, "that's for me." Isadora smiled softly. It was a smile that Farkle could only describe as goofy yet... beautiful. "It was nice to meet you, Isadora."

"You too, Farkle, and hey," she opened the lower compartment of her backpack and found a notepad. She scribbled down something quickly and handed it to him, as he sat in the backseat. It was her number. "If you ever get bored again," Isadora explained. Farkle wanted to say something but he was already driving away. He probably wanted to invite her to his birthday party but then again, him knowing himself, he would've talked himself out of it.


Farkle's birthday was on Tuesday but his party was on Friday. On his actual birthday, the gang surprised him at his locker with streamers and noisemakers. They scared the shit out of him and Maya caught it on camera. That same day, Farkle had a performance with his a cappella group. He sung a solo to My Cherie Amour. Fitting to the say the least, desperate to say the most. Riley and the cheerleaders sat front row because they went on after them. Riley made a blinding, blissful grin, like everything was just going completely over her head. She didn't have a care in the world. Maybe because Farkle carried them all for her.

Later, they all went to Topanga's, something they haven't done in a while. Because of different interests, jobs and new friends, Farkle felt their tight-knit group loosening up at the seams. He was still happy that there could still be one place that was just theirs. A place where all five of them could just talk, like no time past at all. In his head that's how it seemed but maybe he was just living in denial, a nice coping mechanism. He noticed everyone was sitting together but in their own little worlds. Farkle sat at the counter getting everyone's order, like he always did. He got one cupcake for Riley, a latte for Maya, an apple for Lucas and a cookie for Zay. Farkle normally got nothing because he doesn't eat sweets but Mrs. Matthews tried to slip him a red velvet piece of cake.

"Mrs. Matthews, I think you accidentally gave me this." He put the slice back on the counter.

"No, I didn't. Farkle, I've known you for over 10 years, you don't think I don't remember your birthday? Here, enjoy." Topanga pushed it back toward him.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Matthews. I'd rather you hold onto this for an actual paying customer than have me waste it." He slid it back. "Besides, I'm not a big fan of cake."

"Oh." The tone of her voice made him feel terrible and rude. She was just trying to be kind and give him a treat, on the house and he refused it.

"But, I-I really do appreciate it, Mrs. Matthews! Really I do! It's so thoughtful, thank you."

"It's OK, Farkle. Happy Birthday." He should've just took the damn cake. What harm would it have done? It's not like he would take a bite and die. He could be such an asshole, sometimes. He tried to give Maya her coffee but Riley told her she was outside on the phone "again." She rolled her eyes and continued with her homework. Yeah, something was for sure off with her. After giving the group their orders, Farkle told them that he would be outside, smoking a cigarette and give him the signal if Riley's mom came back out.

Discreetly, he took a table and watched Maya near the bushes. She was giggling and twirling her hair, two habits that weren't like Maya at all. She was acting like, and he really hated to think like this but, she was acting like a normal girl.

"But you're gonna call me tomorrow, right? Don't worry, I can get out of it. Yeah. Yeah..." There it was again. That childlike laughing. "OK. I'll text you. Yeah. Bye." Maya whipped around and seeing Farkle lounging in the chair, so cool, made her jump.

Smoke emitted from his mouth and nostrils, "did I scare you?"

"Shut up." Maya took the cigarette from his mouth and took a drag, then she grimaced, "ugh. What is this?"

"Pall Mall." He showed her the box.

She gave the cigarette back to him and took her coffee, joining him at the table. Quietly, she drank her vanilla latte like nothing happened, like she didn't just get caught flirting it up with some mystery man. Maya thought Farkle wouldn't questions because he usually doesn't. But this time, he couldn't help himself.

"So..."

"So...?"

"Who was the guy?"

Maya huffed, "what makes you think it's a guy?"

Farkle quirked an eyebrow. "Who's the... girl?"

"... Alright, so it's a guy." She admitted, taking another Pall Mall for herself.

"Anyone I know?"

"Maybe."

"What grade is he in?"

In thought, Maya blew smoke from her puffy lips. "... 14th grade?"

Farkle scoffed in disbelief, "he's a college guy? Who do you know that's -" Suddenly, the realization came to him and before he could say his name, Maya raised a warning finger, "not a word."

"But - Maya - really?"

Maya, offended, "Fuck you. What do you mean 'really'?"

"I mean, like - does Riley know?"

"No and it needs to stay that way. Farkle, I mean it."

"But... why? She's your best friend and... his niece." Farkle shrugged.

"It's going to get too complicated. I want to keep this quiet until I'm 18, so no one freaks out."

The boy paused, a loss for words. He knew that Maya always had a thing for Josh but he was surprised that Josh would actually start a relationship with her. In fact, Farkle respected him for not making light of their age difference, which is still apparently in the back of his mind or else they wouldn't have to be a secret. Farkle considered Josh to be more... principled than this but if Maya was happy, then Farkle was happy.

But, looking at her face against the sunset, Maya didn't look really happy.

It bothered him so much, Farkle had to comment on it. "For someone, who's been waiting for this pretty much her whole teenage life, you don't look too thrilled about it."

The girl sighed and to a sip of her coffee before answering, "I hate keeping secrets from her."

In this moment, Farkle wondered if Maya knew about the sex with Riley.

No. She couldn't have.

Maya was the type to poke at people when she had classified information on them. She didn't make any inappropriate jokes toward the matter once. So, Riley was keeping this a secret from Maya, too. This made him feel insignificant, like that night didn't matter to her at all. Maybe Farkle wasn't her first, that's why she didn't tell her. Maybe it was no big deal to her because she'd done it before and the guy was much better than Farkle was. God, he'd give all the money in the world to know what Riley Matthews was thinking.

"Farkle, I can trust you. Right?" Maya snapped him back to reality. "You won't tell anyone? Riley, especially?"

"You know you can trust me, Maya." He snuffed out his cigarette in the ashtray.

"Good."

Then, Farkle had another lingering thought. "Maya, what if Riley finds out on her own?"

"What?" Her thick, dark eyebrows knotted. "No. There's no fucking way that's going to happen. Shut up."

"Hm."


"Tomorrow night needs to go off without a hitch. Guys? What did I just say?"

Perhaps Topanga's was a stale meeting place for them now but the morning wake n' bake ritual on the roof of The Adams School would never go out of style. It was early and they were high, so he needed to make sure they were paying attention. This party was too important. Farkle looked at all of his friends as they droned a lackluster repetition of his last statement. Good enough.

"Guys, seriously," Farkle passed the joint to Maya. "It was like pulling teeth to get my father to let you all come in the first place."

"But it's your party, isn't it?" Zay asked and Farkle gave him a skeptical glance. "When did your parents start hating us, anyway?"

Farkle tried to be sensitive to their feelings in his answer, "they don't - hate you. They think you're a distraction."

"Hmph, so they hate us." Maya made a dry laugh.

"Well, I still think it was nice of them to let us come to this big, fancy party for Farkle. Distraction or not, he needs his friends." Riley declared, before taking a hit of a joint. "And we need him."

Farkle felt like his heart was going to burst.

But then, Riley continued, "but also, can you guys imagine the liquor at this party?"

"Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no." Farkle protested. "Imagine nothing! I don't want you guys high or drunk at this party at all. Like I said: no hitches. The governor is going to be there! The last thing I need is Lucas streaking around the place."

"That was one time! It was a bad joint!" Lucas defended himself.

"Yeah, one time too many. Please, as a gift to me, can we just have one sober party?"

"Bor-ring." Maya sang.

"I don't care. Do it for me, guys?"

"Of course, Farkle." Riley comforted him and came to his side, putting an arm around his shoulder. "Just because we aren't allowed to drink or be high doesn't mean we can't have fun! We can make our own fun! It'll be a blast and we will be sober. Don't you worry your Farkly-little-head!" She smoothed down the front of his hair with her fingertips as he wondered what would she do if his kissed her right there, in front of everyone. But then they heard the bell ring from inside and too soon, Riley pulled away from him saying a quick goodbye.

Next, Maya and Lucas went downstairs but Zay stayed behind with Farkle.

"So, what did your dad say about Princeton?" He asked, popping a mint in his mouth.

"Nothing yet. He's probably too busy, worrying about the big soiree tomorrow." Farkle concluded. "I'll get it sooner or later."

"Maybe you won't, though. Maybe it's not that big of a deal, because you're hella smart and rich, so you can get in anywhere." Zay reasoned. Out of all of his friends, Zay was the only one who somewhat understood his pressure to be perfect. Zay wasn't a genius like him but one of the only black kids in the whole school. Farkle admired Zay but he felt guilty too. He had something to prove, meanwhile, Farkle barely had to work at it.

"When you're a Minkus, everything you do is a big deal. If it's not, you need to make it one."

Zay nodded, having to take his word for it. The two shared a handshake and went their separate ways. It was strange though, that his father hadn't said anything about Princeton yet.


Farkle wanted to wear the Armani black suit, but his mother put him in the Dolce and Gabbana grey one. She said it went better with his eyes. Maybe it did. Hell if he knew but it was for sure that the black went with his mood. Before they got into the limousine, his leg wouldn't stop shaking. He wondered if he was breaking his own rules by taking a half an extra pill of Xanax, but the most it would do is get him to calm down or at worst be a little drowsy.

It was a silent ride to the venue. His parents were staring at their phones and not talking to each other. Definitely not talking to him. This was normal. It was like from the moment he was born, Jennifer and Stuart gave orders and directions on how to carry on the family name. Stand up straight, said his mother. Eye contact, said his father. Don't speak until spoken to, they both said. No wonder why people thought he was an uptight robot: he wasn't raised by his parents, he was programmed. The kid didn't stand a chance.

From the tinted windows of the stretch limo, Farkle could hear the clicking of cameras. His mother loved a red carpet opportunity and also, a lot of high-profile politicians and businessmen were invited. This would get a guaranteed spot in the New York Times entertainment section. Mr and Mrs. Minkus' stoic faces bathed in the dull glow of their smartphones, akin to the effect of a flashlight underneath someone's chin, scary and ominous.

It was announced that they came to their destination. Jennifer took one final glare into her compact and said, "OK, family. Remember: group shots need smiles, single shots need smizing." The door opened and the flashbulbs burst in their faces. In her smoky and attractive voice, Jennifer greeted and thanked them. This wasn't Farkle's first big event, so he should have been used to the paparazzi echoing his name and all the lights in his sensitive blue eyes and his parents just talking for him. Yet, it never got easier.

Instead of a shade of red, the carpet was a clean beige to mask the dirt from the ground. The Minkus' took the family portraits and then, Farkle stood by himself against the backdrop that had his name obnoxiously all over it. He swore he'd hear the strangers calling his name for a photo in his sleep. Until he heard a familiar, "YO MINKUS!"

A genuine smile came to his face when Farkle turned to the left and saw his four best friends. He was so elated to see them, tears almost came to his eyes. The lanky boy almost ran over to them and got swallowed in their group hug. They lightly teased him for how polished and dapper he looked but they all looked pretty snazzy themselves. Lucas and Zay were in almost identical black tuxedos except Zay had a purple bowtie and matching pocket square, while the older one went for all black everything. Maya was wearing this vintage flapper sequin dress that was as fair as her pink skin and her hair was in waves. Riley wore this sleek, pure white dress that touched her toes. It was backless, so her up-do showed of the arch Farkle knew all too well. To tempt him even more, she wore this gold necklace that was just a chain in the front but dropped down her slender spine. She looked exquisite and badly he wanted to tell her so.

"Farkle, are these your friends?" One of the photographers asked.

"Yes!"

"Can we take some photos?"

"Of course!"

He gave a big and natural grin to the cameras, holding Riley by the waist and Zay by the shoulders. Things were finally feeling enjoyable, like the party officially started. Together, they made their grand entrance into the venue. The music was ragtime-reminiscent, so far away from the 90's alternative bands Farkle actually likes. There were a million caterers and waiters offering fun size three-course meals in travel size bowls. Svaroski chandeliers hung from the ceilings.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph." Whenever Lucas was really floored with something, his southern slang took new heights. "I forgot how rich you actually are, Farkle."

"Money," Maya started. Then, her and Riley said at the same time, "big money."

"Yes," Farkle agreed. "Which is why everything needs to go off without a what?"

"Hitch!" They all said in different pitches and volumes.

"Thank you." Farkle said sarcastically.

"You're welcome." Zay replied seriously.

"Farkle darling," the stunning Mrs. Minkus traveled over in her Versace black dress and stole her son away. "You can talk to your friends later. You have to greet your party guests now."

Of course, they weren't his party guests. They were his parents' colleagues but at this point there was no difference. What was supposed to be maybe 20 minutes of schmoozing turned into a cool hour and a half. Stuart and Jennifer cut the umbilical cord from Philadelphia as soon as they moved to the Upper East Side, so a lot of the people he was thanking were faceless with heavy names. They were all these mini interviews that started with the same question:

"So, where do you plan to go to college?"

Farkle was asked that ever since he was four.

"Princeton."

Princeton University, it's official name since 1896 but founded in 1746. The institution has been in a rivalry with Harvard for best university for 17 years. It has been the life-blood of his father's identity as long as he could remember. So, to think about how colossally bad the meeting went with the dean of admissions, sent Farkle into a tailspin. After talking to the congressman of New York, he felt his chest tightening. It was getting harder to breathe. He had to excuse himself. When he didn't see Lucas, Maya, Zay or Riley anywhere, Farkle ran off to the bathroom.

His sweaty hands shoved into the first stall and he hunched over. Taking deep breaths, he repeated to himself, "don't spiral. You're fine. Don't spiral." Sometimes, it takes a few minutes for him to find himself again. Sometimes not. Farkle lost track of time, hiding in the bathroom. Regaining his composure, he wiped his palms on his knees. Suddenly, Farkle heard someone else run in and a door blasted open. Then, he heard the sounds of heavy puking. When he left his stall, Farkle saw former Mayor Rudy Giuliani, washing his face in the sink. There was no one else in the men's bathroom so, that was him throwing up? No way. The honored and decorated man scrubbed his face, then manically turned around beaming at Farkle.

"Farkle! Happy Birthday, my boy!" His voice boomed with glee.

"Thank you, sir." Farkle was uneasy. What the hell was going on? "Um, are you all right, sir?"

The mayor made a hearty laugh and pat Farkle on the shoulders, hard. "Son, I am fucking fantastic."

Well, shit. Eyes big as his gaping mouth, Farkle watched the politician exit, almost skipping away. Quickly, he followed him out with a bad feeling in his gut. He saw the elderly man jump onto the dance-floor with a bunch of other wily, old suits, jumping around to the rendition of Play that Funky Music, White Boy. Grinding was happening, from some of the married couples and some not married. Expensive shoes were off and ties were worn as headbands like it was a high-class, hot mess Coachella. The worst part was his father. His shirt and blazer was off and he was pawing at his mother who looked earnestly horrified. Jennifer tried to push him off but as skinny as the Fortune 500 businessman was, he found this unsinkable strength.

Farkle came to the rescue and pulled his dad away. He had his father by the arms, as his mother yelled, "Stuart, what the hell is the matter with you?!"

"It's a party!" He shouted back, breaking free from his son and running off into the melee. He leaped down from the stage and started moshing with the owner of Uber and Richard Bronson. Some of the women were playing cat and mouse with the men, running and shrieking. Food was being picked up and thrown by grown adults. Seeing the terror on his mother's face, Farkle held her hand.

"How did this happen? Why is this happening?" She whispered to herself. This was the first time he ever saw his mother almost cry.

Farkle had the answer but he was so angry and hurt, he couldn't even speak. When he let go of his mother's hand, she called after him but he had to find his friends. Now.


After scouting the entire premises, Farkle was able to find the group on the balcony. The boys overlooked the madness like merry gods. The girls were waltzing together gracelessly. The boy charged toward them, but they were so unaware that he was looking for a fight.

"Hey, Farkle, did you see - " Lucas had a smile on his face and a champagne flute in his hand. Farkle shoved him with such force, the flute dropped on the ground. The merriment came to a halt.

"Whoa, whoa, chill, man!" Zay said, putting his hands on Farkle.

Farkle turned on him and shoved him back too. "What the fuck did you guys do?! What did you do?!"

The four of them stood looking back and forth at each other, then gradually they all looked at Riley.

Softly, she explained the chain of events. "You were gone for a while. I saw that I had some leftover Molly and Roofies in my purse and I thought, that maybe it'd be interesting to see what would happen if we spiked some of the drinks."

"... Are you fucking kidding me?" His voice was dripping with disgust and poison.

"Well, Farkle, we only had one glass of champagne each! We aren't drunk; we did stay sober! It's just everyone else that's wasted!" Riley tried to laugh it off.

"Don't try to get off on a technicality, Riley! You knew what I meant by a sober party! No drugs! Anywhere!" He shouted, inching toward her like a menace and she got smaller with every step backward.

"You don't have to yell - "

"You really don't fucking get it, do you? Do you know how my family will look after tonight? How this will ruin our reputation, our business, our lives?! This is going to be everywhere tomorrow! We'll be a fucking joke! But not even that, someone could've gotten hurt by what you did! These people are fucking old, Riley! This shit could kill them! Did you think about that?! Do you think about the repercussions of anything you do, at all?!"

Farkle backed Riley speechless into a corner. He was fuming and wasn't about to stop, so Maya intervened. "Look, Farkle. No one's dead, OK? Just calm down - "

"No! No!" His chest was heaving and he was changing colors.

Worried, Maya asked again, "OK seriously, before you have a heart attack - "

"I ask you guys, for one thing. Just one thing and you can't do it. You can't even manage to just do one thing for me! You don't care about anything or anyone, as long as you're all having a good time! Nothing matters to you people! Nothing matters... " Farkle's heart was going 100 beats per minute. Beads of perspiration was on his forehead and he wiped them off, into his hair, de-slicking it and making it wild like usual. He closed his eyes, "it's my own fault. My dad was right. You should not have been invited. I should have known better."

"Farkle, c'mon..." Lucas knew that Farkle was hurt but now, he was being mean.

"This isn't my party. This," the boy gestured to the hedonistic activities down below, "is your party. Enjoy it. Don't let me damper your good time. I'm... I gotta get the fuck outta here."

The guest of honor turned on his heels and stormed away from the people he cared about most. He heard Maya calling his name. She was chasing him barefoot. Eventually, that stopped. Figures. Keeping his head down, Farkle pushed his way through the cameras and the questions.

"Hey, Farkle! Some 17th, huh?" Some asshole said, flashing what would be an unflattering picture.

Enraged, Farkle took the Nikon and smashed it on the concrete. The portly man cursed him out to Hell but he could care less. He yanked open the door to his stretch limousine and it woke the driver up.

"Sir?" His voice was groggy and thick with sleep.

"Just drive, please... Please..." Farkle pinched his eyes shut in a futile effort to keep his eyes from watering. But, then he didn't understand why he was trying to stop himself from crying. He was alone. No one would judge him. So, he let it out. Everything with his parents, Riley, the pressure of his life fell out of him in his tears. Farkle cried like this was the last time he'd be able to. After tonight, he wouldn't waste a single salty drop on any of these people ever again.

The driver must've heard his crying and asked if he was all right. Taking a deep sigh, Farkle answered, "yes. Yes, I - I am now."

Suddenly, he took out his phone. Missed calls from all of his so-called friends and his mother. The only person he wanted to talk to was Isadora. He was nervous but he felt he had nothing else to lose. The phone rang twice before she answered.

"Hello? Isadora? Hey, it's Farkle Minkus. Hi. I know it's kind of late but I was wondering if you could hang out right now - oh. Oh, really? OK. Yeah, yeah, I can meet you there. Send me the address."

The place was a museum, closed obviously. Farkle was a bit of museum buff, but he didn't recognize this one. Isadora's directions told him to knock at the backdoor, so he did what he was told. For a second, he thought this might have been some elaborate prank but then he heard shuffling and whispering.

"Password," a jokingly deep voice said.

"Shut up, Connor," said the female voice. The heavy wooden door opened and Isadora pulled Farkle inside. "Hi."

"H-hi." It was pretty dark in there, even with the glow of the lights from the walls of information about the... "Rochester Museum? How did you guys get in here?"

Suddenly, the boy with brown jerrycurls and soft green eyes behind round glasses got in his personal space, using that deep octave from earlier. "You a cop?"

"... W-what?"

The bronze-skinned boy exploded into laughter. Isadora rolled her eyes. She introduced him, "Farkle, this is Connor. His father is the director of the Rochester Museum and Science Center. He is a classmate and friend and idiot."

"Dude, you looked like you were about to cry!" Connor said, still cracking up.

"Yeah. Yeah, you got me." Farkle admitted with a nervous smile.

"Well, come on. The others are waiting in the classroom." Connor ran ahead of them down the hall.

"Others? What are we doing?" Farkle asked Isadora.

She locked her arm around his and escorted him down the hall. "You'll see. You look really nice, by the way."

"Thanks."

She took him to what seemed to be an antiquated classroom, with an old-school chalkboard, the anatomy model of a human heart and two other guys. Farkle's phone was having a seizure in his pocket.

"This is Nathan and Park. Guys, this is Farkle Minkus." Isadora formally introduced them.

The taller boy reached out to shake his hand, "call me Nate."

"Sure."

"Farkle Minkus? Christ, what's your middle name?" The short and pudgy Park asked.

"Bassett. My mother's maiden." He shrugged. "I've come to embrace it."

"All right, gentlemen." Isadora unzipped her backpack to bring out a bottle of Tequila. "May we start?"

"We may." Nathan answered, with the same upper crust accent.

"We're playing a game?"

"Yes, see, to unwind me and the guys come up here - "

"Ahem," the only girl interrupted.

" - And Isadora," Connor rolled his eyes, "and compete against each other to solve advanced algebra problems. Whilst drunk off our asses."

"The winner of the previous week gets to be the judge and scorekeeper." Park said. "It's usually between Iz and Connor."

"But last week she lost!" Connor cheered. "Tonight, your host will be moi. What do you say, Farkle? You in?"

"Are you sure he can keep up?" Nate quizzed, with a raised brow. "Isn't he from the Ad-dum-dums School?" The other boys stifled laughter behind their hands. Before Isadora could come to his defense, Farkle coolly took off his blazer and helped himself to a clear cup full of Tequila. He downed the drink in one shot and crushed it atop the desk.

He winced, then wiped his mouth on his arm. "Let's do this."

He came 2nd in the drinking games. He got the answer right, before Isadora but one of the rules was to show all work. He missed a step. He wasn't mad; the giggle the girl made when she had found out she won was reward enough. Later on, the group was stumbling through the museum together. Farkle was losing track of time again but in the way someone does when the minutes are filled with laughter. Farkle liked these guys. Nate was a jerk and Park was quiet and Connor was a little silly, but he still liked them. Somewhere along the way, Isadora's hand found his. He felt like he was home, at last.

Suddenly, they were on the roof. He was explaining why Trigun was worth watching to the guys, when he felt Isadora pushing him away from them. A fight wasn't about to break out, though Farkle was getting very passionate. Their voices were colliding; Farkle was still making his case, while the guys making wolf whistles and calling their beloved Iz a whore. She flipped them off without looking them in the eye. Back first, Farkle was shoved into the planetarium.

He laughed to Isadora, "what are you doing? I was winning!"

"Shut up."

"There's no way that One Punch Man would beat Trigun in a fight!"

"I like you, Farkle."

That indeed shut him up. Farkle was the drunkest he'd ever been in his life but her words sobered him. "I... I like you too, Isadora."

"Good." Isadora dropped to her knees in front of him.

"Isadora - "

"I said shut up." Her voice commanded.

He felt her tiny fingers undo his button, then unzipped his pants. Was this happening? Is this real life? Next to Lucas and Zay, he felt so bland. Not ugly but no Adonis. Not even Adonis' distant cousin. But here was this brilliant, beautiful girl that he only met a week ago willing to put his genitals into her intelligent mouth. Then, he felt her around his tip and yes, it was happening. His head tilted back and he let a guttural noise emit from the depths of his throat. It was all so weird but an incredibly satisfying and good type of weird. A happy accident, almost. Not in the way Riley came to him crying that night. As much as he hated to admit it, making love to Riley didn't feel good at all because he didn't understand why it was happened. She didn't show up on his doorstep because she wanted him; she needed someone to give her what she wanted. Farkle was too blinded by his love and affection for her to acknowledge it at the time but he knows her too well and loves her too well and treats her too well. Meanwhile, Farkle gets nothing in return.

His palm massaged its way through Isadora's scalp as she was sending him over the edge. Under the stars, she almost looked like Riley. That should have made him want to stop but it didn't. He wanted to go deeper, faster. This was wrong and degrading but goddamn it, he wanted to punish Riley. He wanted to use her the way she used him. His fist clenched in her hair but he didn't control her movements. In fact, Farkle was losing all of his power. He didn't hear the sounds he was making, he felt so out of body. It didn't feel like it was him, on the brink of speaking in tongues. It didn't feel like his toes, curling up in his socks.

But it definitely wasn't his voice, moaning, "oh God, oh Riley. Riley!" When he was through, Farkle was hazy, waking up from his wonderful dream. Isadora came to his eye level and stared at him, more confused than anything else. His eyes bugged out, realizing that everything done and said was him and he was fucking idiot.

"Oh, oh shit. Fuck, fuck me up, Isadora, I am so sorry! Just... "

She could have done many things at this moment. Yelled at him in Swedish because Farkle knew she was fluent. Spat on him, punched him and broke all the bones in his face. All would have been acceptable to him and deserved. Farkle was scared by her silence.

Until she stunned him, once more, and said, "who's Riley?"

He took a long inhale, then sighed, "Riley's uh... a long story."

She bit her lip, thinking. "Wanna talk about it?"

With a smile in his voice, Farkle admitted, "... Yeah. Yeah, I'd love to."


Sometimes, being rich was really annoying. Farkle knew that was totally inappropriate, ungrateful and privileged to think but he always had it. Especially now, when he's trying to have a romantic walk with a girl and the fucking driver is slowly pacing behind like a kidnapper. Farkle and Isadora walked from the Planetarium back to his house. It would sober them up a little and it was always better to walk and talk, Isadora reasoned. They'd have more time this way.

Farkle poured his heart out about his Riley-aches without hesitation. He got excited, he got mad, he got sad but through all of this, Farkle's eyes were brighter than the moon. As terrible as Riley could be to him, Farkle loved her. He loved the way she made him feel. Farkle came alive for her. He was feeling more relieved as Pluto rose from his shoulders. Yet, Farkle could see that Isadora was looking increasingly distressed.

"Isadora?" She didn't reply one time. The girl is like a light-year chatterbox and she wasn't saying a word. Instead, she was picking at her nails. Isadora was nervous about something. She's never nervous. "Hey, I'm sorry that I'm talking about Riley so much, especially when I have this totally interesting and pretty girl right in front of me..." Farkle reached his hand out to touch her shoulder and she squirmed away.

Isadora started to pace. "Are you OK?"

"I have to tell you something. It's only fair that I tell you this because you have been telling me so much about your life, even though it's kind of weird that you're telling me all this when I just gave you fellatio, but I asked for it! I asked for all of this," she told herself.

Before he could stop himself, Farkle threw his hands on her to keep her still. "Isadora - "

"No! My name isn't Isadora!" She exploded.

Farkle was taken aback, "... what?"

"No! I mean, it is but... that's not what people call me." She took a final deep breath and tucked some hair behind her ear. "They call me... Smackle."

"... Smackle?"

"Yeah, it's so stupid. I-I told the guys to just call me 'Iz' like that's what they actually do and it's... it's not."

"Smackle?" He repeated.

"Ugh! Yes! You can't be so smart and so dumb! My mother is your therapist! I knew who you were before we even met! God! No, nope. That was so rude. I am sorry. I am sorry for calling you smart and dumb. I am sorry that my name is Isadora Smackle and my mother is your therapist and I am really, really sorry that I lied this whole time!"

Farkle swallowed and tried to give his mouth enough time to catch up with his brain. "How-how did you-did your mom talk about me?"

"No. She's the most ethical doctor in her field. I found out she was treating you because... sometimes for fun, I look through her case files and... I found you. I remembered your face from the newspaper. You won the 8th grade science fair. They probably only took pictures because your father was there and honestly your research on the anatomy of an atomic bomb was kind of mediocre and well-known but... I don't know. I was, kind of happy - not about you being mentally ill but - no, yes! It made me happy because I thought you were just like me! And I had to meet you. Farkle... are you mad?"

He then saw that they were standing in front of his family's building. "Oh. We're at my house."

"Farkle, this is a building."

"Yeah."

"Dang." Isadora peered inside the lobby and noticed a man sitting at a desk but in front was a person huddled. A girl was sitting with her face in her knees, on the ground, in a pretty, white dress. She turned around and looked at Farkle staring at the girl. "Is that her? Riley?" He swallowed, then nodded. Now, putting his attention on Smackle, Farkle noticed the glistening tears in her eyes.

"Smackle, I'm not mad at you." He palmed her cheek.

"I'm not crying because of that. I'm crying because I never thought I could be so deceitful, especially to someone I respect so much. I'm sorry."

Farkle's thumb wiped away her tear and he leaned into her to give a soft kiss on the cheek. "It's OK. I'm sorry I said someone else's name while we - y'know."

She made a small laugh, "yeah. I guess we're even, in a way." Farkle and Smackle looked back into the lobby once more and now, Riley was gazing right at the two of them wondrously through smeared mascara.

"Wow, she's beautiful." Smackle stated.

"Yes. Sometimes." He frowned, then told Smackle, "I better go in and handle that. My driver will take you back home."

"What are you going to say to her?"

"I don't really know." Farkle shrugged. He didn't even know how he was feeling about her anymore. "But... I do know I'd like to see you again, Smackle."

Smackle's goofy smile was incredibly bright. "Really?"

"Yes. Honestly, I'm flattered that someone would go to such lengths just to talk to me. I don't even think anyone has ever said sorry to me before. And I like you."

"I like you too, Farkle."

Then, like out of a fairy-tale, Prince Minkus bent down and kiss Princess Smackle's little hand.

"So... I'll call you, later?" He charmingly peered up and asked.

Smackle nodded. "Later."

Farkle took her to the car and gave the driver the direction to take her anywhere she wanted to go. The taillights disappeared and his grin did same. For it was time for him to meet his maker. Farkle walked into his family's building. Darrick told him good evening but he said nothing. Riley watched his feet go by and she hurried after him, keeping silent. They rode together in the elevator, standing on the opposite sides. When the doors opened, Farkle left first and Riley followed. Arriving at his apartment, Farkle opened the door and left it wide open.

Just as predicted, Riley came inside and start pleading her case but Farkle wasn't going to wast anymore of his time.

"Farkle, I - "

"Save it." Calmly, Farkle took off his suit jacket and removed his watch. "I'm really not interested in anything you have to say, Riley."

"But, no, you have to understand! I was just trying to liven up the party! I know that you have a really bad time at these things so -"

"Riley, you did this for your own selfish amusement and nothing more. Stop pretending like you were thinking about me. Stop pretending like you care at all!"

"Farkle - "

"Be quiet! I'm talking now." Farkle yanked off his tie. "I was your friend. When you were rude, I made excuses. When you were selfish, I overlooked it. I was willing to do anything for you, I love you more than anyone. Riley, I love you for free because that was I thought true love was. But it's not. It's only true love if it is reciprocated! Every time I ever needed you, you were somewhere else. You decided something - someone else was more important than me - "

"That's not true!" She cried out.

"Yes! Yes, it is! When it really counts, like it did tonight, you couldn't give a fuck about what I wanted or needed. As long as you're getting what you want, nothing matters, nobody matters! Riley only cares about Riley."

"Stop! Farkle, please! Tonight wasn't who I really am. You know who I am!"

"And I love you anyway!" His voice was tearful as he gazed into her amber eyes. "But just as I could choose to you love so easily, I can take it back. From now on, I choose not to love you. You can find someone else to abuse." It felt good to Farkle to be so cold. He felt like a true Minkus now.

"Farkle, you don't mean anything you're saying. You're just upset - "

"Shut up. I don't want to hear you speak anymore. You have five seconds to get out of my sight, before I forcibly remove you."

Through her sniffles and sobs, Riley managed a soft, "no."

"No?"

"I'm not leaving, until you forgive me."

God, she was so stubborn. If Farkle wasn't careful, he'd start to fall for her again.

"Fine. Have it your way." Farkle sighed, rolling up his sleeves and charged towards the frail girl. He snatched her by the arm and dragged her to the door. He muted the protests she was making and threw her in the hallway, slamming the door in her face. After, Farkle pressed his whole body weight against his door. Riley banged and screamed on the other side like a child. She was begging him. Farkle was feeling his heart rip in half. He covered his face with his hands, not knowing what to do anymore.

If he opened this door, he was allowing himself to be played again. Farkle was saying everything was OK. Nothing had to change. But maybe that was wrong. Maybe, this time, he could play the game his way, instead of hers. Maybe he could finally win. When Riley's crying went to a low, soft murmur, the door creaked open. She flew in and immediately jumped into Farkle's arms. She covered his face in chaste pecks, telling him she's sorry and she loves him.

Suddenly, Farkle cuffed her wrists in his hands. He put her arms around her back and walked them to his bedroom. When they arrived, Farkle pushed her onto the bed. Riley turned over, looking up at him, not quite scared but intrigued.

"You love me?" He whispered, dark.

"Yes."

"Show me." Farkle undid the belt of his pants. Riley watched him and slid down the sleeves of her dress slowly. But then, Farkle climbed over top of her and forced up the end of the gown. His eyes fixed on the pure white underwear. He hooked his fingers on the light fabric, pulling them down her thighs. "Put your arms up." He commanded. Riley did as she was told and Farkle pulled the dress over her head. She tried to undress him too but Farkle restrained her. He wasn't sure if he wanted Riley touching him ever again.

Farkle was sure to fuck Riley, not make love to her. He wanted her to feel like a toy. Farkle knew porn isn't accurate of healthy sex and shouldn't be reenacted without consent but when he bent her into every position he could think of, she didn't say no. Probably because she was trying to placate Farkle. Little did she know, this wasn't about the party or how he was treated in the past. For Farkle, this was the initiation of the new being that he would become. Someone who could put himself before others. Someone who wasn't afraid. Someone who truly didn't give a fuck anymore because nothing matters.


In the morning, Farkle left Riley alone in his bed. He left to get some coffee at Topanga's. In his barrage of texts from her, Riley kept asking where he was and saying that she missed him. He answered none. Farkle took his laptop from his backpack and opened it to find footage and pictures from his birthday party all over every credible and tabloid site on the internet.

As he was scrolling past Rudy Giulani motorboating the governor's wife, Topanga came out with his coffee. "Hey, saw you come in."

"Hi, Mrs. Matthews. Thanks."

She leaned on the counter and Farkle pulled the screen toward him. "So, Riley didn't come in last night."

"Everyone stayed at my place. They're all still sleeping." He lied and took a sip of his black coffee.

"Must've been some party." The woman smiled and Farkle gave her a fake one. When she went back into the bakery, he traveled over to a rip-off TMZ page. Then, his email alarm went off. Farkle went to check it and saw that it was from Princeton University. He gulped and clicked on the email.

Dear Farkle,

We are pleased to inform you that we have accepted you into Princeton's Freshman Summer Program!

In disbelief, he scoffed a tiny giggle but then the giggles turned into laughter, next to guffaws. Everything was random, wasn't it? All of the science, all of the research, all of the preparation, all of the pain - what was the point of it all? Topanga entered carefully onto his little scene. She doesn't think she ever saw this kid laugh so hard.

"Hey, what's so funny?"

Farkle caught his breath and wiped a little tear from his eye. "I got into the Princeton summer program."

"Farkle! That's wonderful!" Topanga beamed.

"Thanks! Hey, Mrs. Matthews, do you think I could still have one of those red velvet cupcakes?"

"Sure, kiddo." She bent down and took a cupcake from the counter window. "I thought cake wasn't your thing?"

"Only because my parents don't like me eating it."

"What changed your mind?"

This time, Farkle's smile was authentic as he shrugged, "none of this stuff really matters in the end, right?" He took a bite of the cupcake.


AN: I think I'm at peace with how long these are now. However, I am at school so, I need to put this much effort into the papers I write. Anyway, sorry for the wait. Hope you liked the ending. If you liked what you read please review.

Next up: Zay.