The Party

[Fiori]

There's a notification on everyone's Instagram accounts.

Anyone clicking it will open up a short video, wherein Marcy Valerio smiles at the camera whilst laying back in a car's passenger seat. It was an old vehicle from the look of things, with faded seatbelt clip things and aged stains on the seats. Otherwise, it looked surprisingly immaculate for a car occupied by Marcy.

"Heeeeeeeeeeeey, hope y'all are having a blast at Stella's! Sorry I can't be there in person, but as you can see..."

She slowly pans the camera as she shifts to the side, revealing Finn Cooper in the driver's seat with a lit cigarette in his hand.

"...I'm a lil bit busy~" she continues, before turning to give her boyfriend a peck on the cheek. "Finn! Say hi to my friends!"

Finn slowly turned to face the camera, giving the slightest of nods and a lazy two-finger salute.

"...Finn says hi!" Marcy added, beaming as she turned the camera back towards herself. "Anyway, gotta get ready for the big countdown, sooo... Happy New Yeeeeeear!"

She then blows a kiss, before cutting the feed as she hits send.

[Kermit]

Stella, you're spoiling us.

Stell’ if my breath didn’t reek of booze right now, I’d kiss you.

Oh. Wow.

This is a perfect view.

Stella let go of the curtain, let it drift out to the side. Honestly? View wasn't that great; half the city hidden behind shrubs. But Paradise knew dopamine cycles, knew semiotics, and it was good at what it did. To quote a famous man, "Despite the amount of suffering, pain, misery, sorrow and travail which can exist in life, the reason for existence is the same reason as one has to play a game — interest, contest, activity and possession. The truth of this assertion is established by an observation of the elements of games and then applying these elements to life itself."

You know, everybody wants their way in the American dream. Not everyone's gonna get it. Zero sum.

Future belongs to those who know how to control it.


The phone in her hand buzzed. Didn't check the notification, didn't acknowledge the kissing comment from Meggy. Shifted into contrapposto.

"Oh, it's not thaaaat-," interrupted herself, "-I mean, you'd be used to it too."

Just kept on staring out the window.

Kept smiling.

Sharp breath out through her nose. Coulda laughed. Like, cackled. Didn't. She wasn't crazy.

Joanne was gonna get so freaking jealous 'bout this.

[LYourLocalAutist]

Sylvie, however, wasn't so immune to the Pavlovian machinations of the 'gram. She raised her phone to her face a moment and smiled warmly seeing Marcy. Ahh, to be with a lover on New Year's eve... Claude, unfortunately, was with his family tonight. She knew this because she'd taken a few minutes to hype herself up and text him to ask if he was coming earlier that day. He's so caring...

ANYway. Like. Heart comment. Phone back in the pocket, focus back into the moment, facing forward. Clarissa was back, and she took a moment to smile at her and Meggy before turning back to the skyline and the world. Her smile was wider and brighter now, surrounded by friends.

"We all ready?"

She quipped, gaze not breaking from the skyline. She certainly was, and she was happy for it. She didn't know why, but she had a small inkling of a feeling; 2025 would be her year.

3 Minutes.

[Sylvie Rattray-Aubert memory II, concluded]

[Cicada]

Clarissa's arm wrapped around Meggy, crook of elbow to small of waist. A gesture for close friends. But also for close lovers. There was, uh. A difference. Felt, if difficult to describe. She held one girl close, all while her eyes found all the others. Returned Sylvie's smile. Dodged Stella's silhouette like one must the sun.

Brighter than the Vegas lights sprawling out before them. Clarissa couldn't help but look at the effortless poise. Acute shame and humiliation. Something crawled up the meat of her spine and she hated it as much as she couldn't ignore it.

She was very happily distracted by the phone, turning her eyes away. Oh gosh, Marcy and Finn looked so cute. <3 Clarissa would think of an appropriate comment later.

Comfortable silence in the moment after Sylvie and Stella spoke. That left room for Clarissa's thoughts- the ones she usually couldn't hear unless she was alone in her room. Wrong place, wrong time. She wondered if Marcy and Finn would still be together when it was time for the walk, for the diplomas, for the photos with their parents and with each other and with everyone smiling. Sylvie, Stella, likely never to be seen again. Michael? Claude? Would they ever roam the dusty streets of the Vegas suburbs again? Meggy? Joanne? Vivian?

She wondered who'd be left.

The end of '24. Soon, the end of the class of '25.

The music down where the party was vaguely hummed on.

[Clarissa Shoemaker Memory Thread 3 Concluded]

[Kermit]

"Let me just..."

Stella clapped twice and the room's lights turned off.


Picture this.

The camera starts out four feet from the ground, level angle, a bit past the bed, looking out the window. Composition's nearly symmetrical, with Sylvie on the left and Stella on the right, silhouettes cut in front of the city's glow. View's so close to the glass at first that the two girls' dim reflections are the only way you can tell anything is there. They frame Vegas as the focal point.

Camera starts pulling back sloooowly. Focus gradually shifts to Stella and Sylvie as Clarissa and Meggy emerge at the midpoint of the bottom of the frame, blurry. The wall around the window begins to appear at the other edges.

We keep moving back. Vegas entirely out of focus. Bed appears. First rocket shoots up from Paradise. Faint pink explosion above Stella's head. Then, another rocket, midway between her and Sylvie. Bigger explosion, yellows and pinks, illuminating both their faces. Sylvie's smile shows all her teeth, Stella's shows them none.

Cut to black.

The start of a dramatic indie pop song, probably something that reminds you of the '80s but, like, more sonically desolate.

((And, roll the season finale's end credits.))

[midnight_twelve]

Out in the garden, Niall was leant, back against the wall, angled ever-so-slightly, like a clock's hand a minute to midnight. It was a simple notification on his phone that had driven him outside. A simple Instagram video, just seconds long, that had sent him teeth-clenched into the cold, mouth pursed too tight to even chatter in the chilly winter night. Stella would have the situation under control anyway. Meggy and Clarissa and Sylvie were probably upstairs now, counting down the minutes together, talking away. Niall peered through the window at the party within. Bright, empty faces, cheering, smiling, laughing, blurring, cheeks beer-burning, sparkling eyes and sparkling lights and sparkling wine. Sparkling like the stars reflected in the glass. Sparkling like the fireworks soon to fly.

Niall had just his wristwatch and his wine to keep him company as the final minute wound its way round the watchface. Ten, nine, eight, seven, unscrew the cork, six, five, four, twist the cork, three, two, one, the cork flew into the sky with a bang and there was a rocket-whoosh and the heavens burst into flame. Red, green, blue, gold, a rainbow with no rain, no sun, all the light and life and colour of creation flung like paint against the pitch-black desert sky. Niall watched the fireworks play for a while, until he got cold and the noise got tiresome. Then he clinked the glass of the bottle against the glass of the window, and went back inside.

((Niall Harris continued elsewhere))