Wow, I'm so sorry I've been gone so long! I had to make a brief and unexpected intermission, a ton of stuff family-wise and health-wise came up and I couldn't find the time/motivation to work on this. But I'm back now and I hope you're still sticking with me! I couldn't do this without you.

Any apologies if this isn't quite up to the usual standards, it feels a bit lackluster to me but maybe that's just illness speaking lol.

This chapter takes place the morning after the last chapter.

Thank you to all the lovely guests for reviewing, your reviews made me smile!

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Rise or Spring Awakening in any way, apart from caring too much to be healthy, and am not making any profit off of this (apart from any love you decide to show!)

Episode 7: Adults Just Don't Understand

Lilette isn't quite sure what she's expecting when she walks in the door, but it certainly isn't this.

She'd texted her mother and told her about her rough day at work- her mother had, of course, been properly furious, and for some strange reason completely understanding when Lilette said she was going to spend the night at Robbie's. So when Lilette gets home at nearly ten the next morning, she's expecting an interrogation from her mother, or those suggestive eyebrow wiggles, or even just an empty house.

Instead, there's stuff strewn everywhere amongst cardboard boxes.

An interrogation would be much better than this.

Amidst the chaos is her mother, blasting pop tunes from her phone and sorting things out while humming under her breath. Lilette just stands in the doorway, completely in shock, until her mother looks up and notices her. She gives a little "oh!" exclamation before rushing to pause her music and run over to hug her daughter.

"I'm so sorry, baby," she says quietly, but Lilette is still staring in shock.

"What are you doing?" Lilette asks in a low voice. Her mother pulls back, an expression of fake cheer on her face.

"Packing," she answers.

"What do you mean, you're packing?!" Lilette cries, beginning to panic just a bit. Packing means leaving. Leaving means moving to Pittsburgh. Moving to Pittsburgh means abandoning everyone she loves.

"I mean, if we're moving we need to pack," her mother says, nodding. "Now neither of us has a job here, which means we have no reason not to move."

Lilette, still standing in the doorway, nearly throws a fit right then and there. But she manages to keep herself composed, draws in a deep breath, and says, "I won't move. I won't leave my friends behind."

"Honey," her mother says. "This will be good for us! We've had this talk a million times already- a fresh start for the Suarez girls!"

"I don't want a fresh start," Lilette all but spits out. "I like this run pretty well as it is!" Sure, her boss was an asshole, her job sucked, and the department was shut down- but she has Robbie and Simon and all her other friends, and they're getting the department back.

"Sometimes it's not all about you," her mother says gently. "Sometimes you have to think about what's best for us as a family."

Lilette takes another deep breath and finally steps inside, shutting the door. Her mother smiles, gesturing to the boxes, as if expecting Lilette to suddenly be happy about packing up her life and leaving everything behind.

Lilette just offers a grim smile and shakes her head, pulling out her phone to text Simon. She was just with Robbie, he just dropped her off, so she can't bother him again.

As it turns out, Robbie is in no position to be bothered right now. Currently he's standing across from his father at their kitchen counter, engaged in a furious screaming match.

However, it wasn't about the fact that there was a girl sleeping in his room the whole night (he isn't quite sure his father knows about that yet). In fact, it's about a very different girl. His mother.

Normally, Robbie is the one to get the calls about her health. But for some reason, this time his father did. And that meant his father was the one tasked with breaking the room to Robbie that somehow his mother had ended up in the intensive care unit the moment he got home from dropping Lilette off.

"She's getting worse, Robbie," his father had finished the news with.

Robbie had managed to stand perfectly still for about three seconds before exploding.

"You said she was getting better!" he cries. "You lied to me?"

"I didn't know!" his father yells back. "You think I'm happy about this? You think I want to see her die, see it destroy you like this?"

"So you gave me false hope?" Robbie yells incredulously.

"Any hope is better than nothing at this point!" his father yells. Robbie crosses his arms- this isn't his father's fault, he tells himself over and over again.

"Can I at least go see her?" Robbie asks, his voice pathetically weak.

"Of course," his father says, nodding.

Robbie is almost afraid to go into his mother's room when they get there. He barely makes it through the doorway before noting she's asleep, and though he's never had any qualms about seeing her before, he lasts maybe ten seconds before turning around, trying to choke back the tears.

A nurse stops him and he finds himself asking what happened, but he isn't really listening to what the nurse is saying. Something about not breathing right and just wanting to make sure she was okay, something with her respiratory system and movement and Robbie isn't really listening but it's still better than nothing to know what's going wrong.

Then the nurse brushes past him to get into the room to check on some things, and Robbie just walks down to where his father is waiting. They get to the car in silence and they drive home in silence, too, and Robbie can't properly appreciate the quiet of it all like he normally does because his mind is racing and his mother might not make it and this might be it this time, for real, no going back, no going better. But it's "too soon to know for sure" and they "can't be positive where this will take her," he was listening to that much.

His father doesn't even bother to ask how she is, because he probably already knows. He doesn't bother to ask how Robbie's doing, either, though that's probably for the best and it's probably already clear by the look on his face already.

He can't do this. He can't just watch her get better and then suddenly get worse again. Things were changing.

Well, he supposes, they're still changing. Only not necessarily for the better.

Things are changing in many households across Stanton. Simon, for one, is taking complete advantage of the fact that his father isn't home by sitting in the living room and not fearing for his life.

His mother is home, however, and he's having a bit of an internal conflict over whether he should tell her about the day before or not. On one hand, she's his mother and he's supposed to be able to tell her everything, but on the other hand, he'd really like to keep it a secret considering the fact that his father literally called him a "stain on the family." His conflict is quenched when his mother walks past where he's seated on his phone and he blurts it out.

"Jeremy and I are a thing now."

She freezes, then takes a few steps back so she's looking him in the eye.

"A… thing?" she asks, her lip quivering.

Simon's eyes widen. He just said that. He really just said that.

"I'm gay," he says, nodding, his eyes still wide. He swallows hard. "Um. I don't know where to go from there."

"Oh, honey," his mother says, and suddenly she's crying, but she's also hugging him, so he's not really sure what she's feeling. Come to think of it, he's not really sure what he's feeling. So instead he just sits there and lets her get her tears out.

"Did you know?" he asks quietly, after a while. She thinks for a moment, then nods.

"A mother always knows," she says, smiling sadly at him, and suddenly Simon panics as he remembers the other parent of the household.

"Don't tell Dad," he says suddenly. "Please- you can't- he'll- he'll kick me out-" It's uncharacteristic of him, this panic, but he doesn't care because he just needs her to promise him that his father will never know. Then his mother's tears are gone and she looks doubtful, guilty. His heart sinks.

"He's my husband," she tells him. "I should be telling him everything."

"Please, Mom, you can't," he says, and his voice breaks. "You can't- you know what he's like, you know what he'll do-"

She holds up a hand, and his stops with a sharp intake of breath. "I'll think about it, honey," she says. Amid the fear in his gut, there's also a bit of anger now- because she knows exactly what will happen.

"Alright," he says, his voice hardening, because that's better than nothing. "And- did you give any thought to what I said about the theater department?" The topic is changed, now, they are not going back to his queerness, and hopefully they never will again.

"I did," she says. "And… I don't think there's anything I can do to help you, honey. Your father would stop anything I tried to start, so other than coming to your shows, there's nothing I can do."

"But we don't have any shows," he says, frowning, and he realizes that his mother will be no help with their efforts to get their drama department back. Or at least, not while his father is in the way. Dang it.

"I'm sorry, honey," she says. "But even if your father would approve something… what more could I do?"

"So this is it?" he asks, turning to her on the couch. "After everything, you're gonna abandon me to this now? Not do anything to help because of Dad, leave me to face his wrath alone because you can't keep secrets from him, you can't do anything without his permission first?" He scoffs at the very idea, but internally, because he knows there's nothing his mother can do about it.

"I wish I could do something else," she says, and he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He's saved at that moment by a ping from his phone- Lilette, asking if he could come pick her up. Great- an excuse to leave.

"I have to go get Lilette," Simon says quietly. "Thank you for being accepting, Mom." He gets up and walks for the door, glancing back as he closes it- her hand is raised in a half-wave, and she looks sad, almost.

He closes the door and gets in the car, trying to keep himself from slamming his head on the steering wheel. He'll get Lilette and they'll complain about their parents together and- shit, he's going to have to come out to Lilette.

No, he doesn't need to worry about coming out to Lilette. Because she's his best friend and he knows that she's accepting and they stick with each other no matter what. No matter what means driving to her house at ten in the morning and driving them to a parking lot nobody's in so she can rant about her mother and the leaving that's not happening. No matter what means that then she can gush about Robbie, and that when she finally finishes and he's given her the best advice that he possibly can and when she asks how he is, he just lets it spill, and she's there for him. That's what no matter what means.

No matter what is this little family he's found in the drama department, so they're going to get it back. No matter what.

No matter what is exactly what Michael is thinking as he faces off with Sasha's father, because Sasha's father disapproves of her abortion.

Michael is sitting at their tiny kitchen table while the two argue in the living room, ready to intervene if necessary. Her father just doesn't see the point in it all, the costs, and Michael is having to butt in every few minutes to remind him that caring for a kid is a lot more expensive than an abortion.

"My parents said they'll help with everything," Michael insists. "You just need to… sign off on a few papers."

"Ms. Wolfe said that she'd help, too," Sasha says, nodding. "And I can get enough money to pay for it, Dad, you don't need to worry about it- I can get Ms. Wolfe on the phone right now," she adds, seeing the look on his face, that he doesn't believe her.

Approximately two minutes and exactly three dials later, Sasha's father is on her phone, talking with Ms. Wolfe. Sasha grips Michael's hand, leaning on the table next to him. They can't hear much of the conversation as her father paces the trailer, but as he walks past them, they hear Ms. Wolfe's voice.

"I will personally make sure that she is cared for," Ms. Wolfe is saying. When he hangs up, Sasha's father finally looks satisfied. Michael grins at Sasha and squeezes her hand.

"Ah… alright," he says eventually with a heavy scowl. "I'll sign the papers. Just… whatever makes you happy, kid." Sasha beams. "And as long as this Tracey woman sticks with you."

"She will, Dad," Sasha says, nodding. "She will."

Sasha isn't the only one having good fortune with her father. Gordy was stopped just as he was exiting his room by his father, who gestures for him to go back inside. Gordy wonders briefly just what he's up to, but decides it's best to just go along with it. He was only going for a soda, anyways- the soda will still be in the refrigerator when he goes for it.

"So, Gordy," his father starts. Oh, no. That's the I-need-to-talk-to-you voice. "I wanted to ask… the rehabilitation program. How's it going?"

"It's going good, Dad," Gordy says, and he's even being honest about it. He knows the recovery process is long and hard, and that he hasn't been driven to relapse yet and it's only inevitable, but for now he feels like he's going strong, especially with the help of those around him. He tells his father this, word for word.

"Those around you?"

"You guys," Gordy says, nodding. "And, uh, the football team. My friends at school. The other theater kids." It would have pained him once upon a time to admit he was now good friends with the "theater kids," but now he feels a sense of pride upon being accepted into their little family. Drama is, from what he's noticed, practically a cult.

"That's good, that's good," his father says, nodding. "So rehab… it's going well? The program, I mean?"

"Yes," Gordy says, nodding quickly. "Yeah, it's going really well. It's helping a lot."

His father smiles, wide, unforced. "I'm glad to hear it," he says. A pause, then, "Maashous is coming for dinner, just so you know."

"Great," Gordy says, grinning, and his father smiles and leaves the room. Already this rehabilitation program has transformed his son, and honestly, he isn't complaining.

Gordy makes absolutely no mention of Gwen.

Maashous arrives about an hour later. They're having lasagna that Sadie and Mrs. Mazzucchelli made together, and it's delicious. They talk about anything and everything, both girls rambling about school and gossip that they think the high school boys should know about, or at least could laugh at. Then the other three talk musicals for a while, and Gordy is pleased that he knows a little bit more about them now and can jump into the conversation.

As they're finishing their meal, Mrs. Mazzucchelli asks Maashous how living with his mother is.

"It's, ah, it's alright," Maashous says after nearly choking on his milk. "It's going fine, yeah." Gordy knows the air of someone with a big secret, and that's definitely it. Maashous begins fidgeting with his napkin and Gordy tries signaling with his eyes for his mother to continue pressing.

"Different from here?" she asks kindly, getting the hint (not that Gordy is subtle about it).

"Yeah," Maashous says, laughing, though it's forced. "A lot different."

"How?" Mr. Mazzucchelli asks, picking up on Gordy's cues. Sadie and Kaitlin glance at each other- suddenly this seems very much like an interrogation.

"A lot smaller. Emptier. Less full of life. More drugs," Maashous says very quickly, and then his eyes widen as he realizes the last bit of what he said. "No no no, I wasn't supposed to mention that!" he says quickly, seeing the looks on their faces. "Please, you can't tell anyone, I can't have her go to prison again, it won't help her-"

"Maashous," Mrs. Mazzucchelli says slowly, carefully. "We won't tell anyone. But is your mother doing drugs again?"

Maashous glances around. His eyes land on Kaitlin, then dart back to Mrs. Mazzucchelli quickly, and he nods. The two adults at the table look at each other, having a silent conversation, and the kids all look down at the table or their laps.

"Well, let us know if there's anything we can do to help," Mr. Mazzucchelli says, clearing his throat.

Meanwhile, another family dinner also turned very awkward. Though Gwen could hardly call it a dinner, considering it's microwaved macaroni and cheese, and her father got up to take a phone call halfway through. She's definitely eavesdropping and she doesn't really care. The apartment is beginning to look a bit more like home after she used her eye to help with the decorating, to spruce the place up a bit. But she still isn't completely swung on the idea of half the time, especially eavesdropping on this phone call.

"Great, we can use the funds to update some of the equipment, maybe more consistent washing of the jerseys," she hears her father says. "Yeah, I'll talk to you later."

She hears him hang up the phone and goes back to her macaroni quickly, pretending she wasn't listening. He knows she was.

"Update some equipment?" she asks as her father sits down.

"The football program was granted another five thousand," her father says, looking at the table, his food, the wall, anywhere but her. He's refusing to look at her.

"The hell is this?" she cries, standing up. "More funding? You've got to be kidding me!"

"Gwen-" he starts, but she holds up a finger.

"Yeah, I'm being childish," she says. "But five thousand dollars when the lighting system in the theater breaks every other week? Five thousand, like it's nothing?"

"Gwen-"

"No," she says sitting back down and grabbing her fork again. "It's fine. It's… it's fine." He looks like he wants to argue, but he doesn't.

Under the table, Gwen sends a quick text to the big cast and crew group chat.

Next weekend. Usual place.

Next time, on Rise Again: "I'm sorry. I can't go in there." - "There's just… nothing we can do, apart from putting on a show, and we need the theater and a program to do that." - "Looks like you kids could use something like this, right?" - "I swear to God, if you come near me or ever speak to me again I will call the police on you."