Chapter Text
ACT I
how happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
the world forgetting, by the world forgot.
eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
each prayr' accepted, and each wish resigned.
.
.
.
NOW - JUNE 1ST⋆˚꩜｡
You’d always hated standing still.
While everyone else seemed content staying in the same town, seeing the same people, and living the same lives, you’d spent years dreaming about what was waiting beyond it. New cities, new experiences, anything that would move you forward.
So the moment you had the chance, you left.
Over the years, you kept moving. Different apartments, different jobs, different faces that drifted in and out of your life. Every place taught you something new, even when it wasn’t what you’d expected. Some cities felt like they could become home; others were nothing more than temporary stops. But that never bothered you. You weren’t looking for permanence, you were looking for progress. As long as you were moving forward, you never had to wonder what might’ve happened if you’d stayed.
Now summer was starting, and somehow you were headed right back where you’d started.
────
“How many coffees do you think I could drink in a day before it genuinely kills me?” Hitch asked as she took a sip from her iced chai, which, come to think of it, was probably her second coffee of the day.
It was also only ten in the morning.
“I’m surprised you aren’t dead… yet,” Annie muttered from the seat beside her, watching with poorly concealed horror. “Hitch, have you ever thought of drinking, I don’t know… water?” you asked from across the table. Hitch looked genuinely offended. “This is mostly water.”
Neither you nor Annie bothered arguing, though the look Annie gave her was enough to say everything. Hitch simply shrugged and took another sip anyway, completely unbothered.
The conversation drifted naturally after that, bouncing between meaningless observations and half-finished stories the way it always did. It was one of those slow summer mornings where nobody had anywhere urgent to be. The coffee shop buzzed quietly around you, sunlight poured through the front windows, and for a little while it almost felt like tomorrow didn’t exist.
It was strange to think that two years ago, none of this had existed either.
The three of you had met entirely by accident after missing the same flight to Bali. What had started as a delayed departure turned into a cancellation, leaving hundreds of frustrated travelers stranded overnight. While everyone else argued with airline employees and crowded customer service desks, Hitch had somehow struck up a conversation with the two of you in the terminal. She’d complained loudly about airport food for all of five minutes before insisting you both come with her to find “real food.”
Neither you nor Annie had planned on following a complete stranger into town.
Yet somehow you had.
A small restaurant tucked a few blocks from the airport turned into hours of conversation. Hitch talked enough for all three of you, Annie slowly opened up between sarcastic comments, and you found yourself laughing more than you’d expected to with two people you’d met less than an hour earlier. By the time your flight finally left the next morning, you’d exchanged numbers almost as an afterthought.
None of you expected anything to come from it.
Instead, coffee dates turned into weekend outings. Weekend outings became traditions. Eventually, when all three of your leases happened to end around the same time, someone jokingly suggested getting a place together.
The joke somehow became reality.
Now your apartment felt less like three roommates sharing rent and more like a home. Annie cooked enough food for everyone without ever asking. Hitch somehow accumulated decorative candles faster than anyone thought humanly possible. You filled every empty windowsill with plants you insisted would survive this time.
It all happened so gradually that none of you noticed you’d become a family until you already were one. The thought settled heavier than you expected as you wrapped both hands around your coffee cup. Tomorrow morning, that apartment would lose one roommate for the rest of the summer.
Hitch must have noticed the shift in your expression because she set her drink down and leaned back in her chair. “Well,” she said matter-of-factly, “that settles it. We’re going out tonight.” You laughed softly. “Hitch…”
“No arguments. You can finish packing later.” Annie glanced over, giving a small nod of agreement. “It is your last night.” You started listing reasons why it probably wasn’t a good idea, your suitcase still wasn’t packed, your flight left early, you’d have to wake up before sunrise but even as you spoke, you already knew you were losing.
Hitch had always been impossible to say no to. Besides, there was something comforting about pretending tomorrow wasn’t waiting for you. You sighed dramatically before giving in, “One bar.” Hitch grinned like she’d just won the lottery.
The rest of the morning carried on as if nothing was changing. More coffee disappeared from Hitch’s cup and the conversation wandered from one pointless topic to another. The three of you eventually went your own ways for work and school and agreed to meet back at the apartment at 5 to get ready to head to whatever bar was closest.
The rest of the day passed by aimlessly. A shift as a hostess at a dying Italian restaurant and a consistent impending feeling of doom as you remembered that tomorrow you were going back home.
Paradis Bay was home in every way that counted. No matter where you went you could always see the sea, and it was beautiful. The people there were friendly and almost everyone knew each other by first name basis. It was a beautiful town with a tight knit community that most people would dream of.
You’d never hated it and that was what made leaving so difficult to explain.
Your parents had loved you, your siblings had always answered your calls, and your grandmother never missed a birthday, even after you’d moved away. Every holiday ended with promises to visit more often, and every Sunday phone call somehow stretched well past an hour. Home had never been something you were trying to escape.
You were. Or maybe, more accurately, you were trying to outrun the version of yourself that might’ve stayed.
The thought of spending your entire life in one place has always terrified you. You wanted to know what it felt like to wake up somewhere no one recognized your face. To get lost in unfamiliar streets, to build a life from scratch, to prove that the world was bigger than the few square miles you’d grown up in. Every time you settled somewhere, another city would catch your eye, another opportunity would appear, another reason to keep moving.
Seven years had passed that way.
Seven years of different apartments, different jobs, different skylines outside your window.
You’d still call home every week. You called when you could, sent postcards from places your grandmother swore she’d never be brave enough to visit, and never missed an anniversary or birthday without apologizing profusely. Distance had never changed how much you loved your family.
It had only changed the number of miles between you.
Then, three weeks ago, your mother called.
Your grandmother had gotten sick.
Not an emergency, she’d insisted. Nothing that required you to drop everything that very second. But she wasn’t getting any younger, and your family had quietly reached the point where “she’ll be okay” no longer felt like enough.
So now here you were, with your suitcase almost packed and a plane ticket you never thought you would buy sitting on the kitchen counter. Thankfully, Hitch always knew the time and place to get you drunk so you would forget about everything you were thinking about.
────
“If it isn't the coffee that kills you, it’ll be the alcohol.” You tell Hitch as she takes a sip of her water. “I’m just not feeling tipsy yet, and I need to be so wasted that I'll sleep till 4pm tomorrow.” Hitch says as the waiter brings over a tray holding the three shots.
“Does this count as a sick day at work?” Annie asked sarcastically from the bar stool next you as she grabbed her shot and prepared herself to down it. “If I’m vomiting, then yes.” Hitch said matter-of-factly. She grabs her shot glass and aims it towards the two of you, “To an amazing summer with amazing memories.” She says and you and Annie both nod, “To summer.”
Hitch doesn't wait another second. She tips her head back and downs the shot in one smooth motion. Annie follows, her expression twisting the moment the liquor burns its way down. You hesitate for only a heartbeat before tossing yours back too. The alcohol scorches your throat, forcing your eyes shut for a second. A cough threatens to escape, but you swallow it down instead, exhaling through your nose as warmth settles low in your chest.
"Oh, that's disgusting," Annie mutters, setting the empty glass back on the table. Hitch lets out a laugh. "See? That's why you don't sip it." Annie scowls at Hitch, "I didn't sip it."
"You made a face!" Hitch argues.
"Because it tasted like gasoline."
"It absolutely tasted like gasoline," you agree, reaching for your water.
The three of you dissolve into laughter, drawing a curious glance from a nearby table before quickly forgetting about it. Music pulses through the bar, louder now than when you'd first walked in. Someone cheers near the dance floor as the opening beat of another song echoes through the speakers.
Hitch is already on her feet. "Oh, absolutely not," Annie says, already preparing to leave. "Oh, absolutely yes." Before either of you can protest, Hitch grabs both your wrists and tugs.
"You can't just—" You start.
"Watch me." She yells out over the music.
She pulls the two of you toward the growing crowd, weaving effortlessly between people until you're swallowed by flashing lights and bodies moving in every direction.
At first, Annie stands stiffly beside you, arms crossed despite being dragged into the middle of the dance floor. "This is humiliating." "No one's looking at you," Hitch laughs, spinning once to the beat. "They definitely are," Annie frowns. You can't help smiling as Hitch starts dancing without a shred of embarrassment, singing along to lyrics she only half knows.
"Oh, come on," you laugh, nudging Annie with your shoulder. Annie rolls her eyes dramatically before giving in with the smallest sway of her hips. "There she is!" Hitch shouts triumphantly. The three of you end up laughing more than dancing, bumping into each other every few seconds before breaking into another fit of giggles. Someone nearby starts a chant to the chorus, and before long all three of you are yelling the lyrics with everyone else, completely off-key.
By the time the song ends, you're slightly out of breath. "I need another drink," Hitch declares. "You need water," Annie corrects. "I need both."
Back at the bar, another round appears, followed by colorful cocktails that looked far sweeter than they actually tasted. Between sips, stories from the year tumble out one after another, every memory somehow led to another. The hours blurred together beneath neon lights and loud music. Empty glasses slowly collected at the edge of the table while laughter came easier with every passing song. And for that moment, you had forgotten about everything that awaited you back home.
────
By the time the three of you stumbled out of the bar, the warm summer air hit your face, carrying the scent of cigarettes and the distant hum of nightlife. Your cheeks ached from laughing, and your feet protested with every step in heels you should've taken off hours ago.
Hitch stretched her arms above her head with a satisfied groan. "That," she declared, "was exactly what I needed." Annie scoffed beside her. "You said that after the first shot." "Because I meant it after the first shot," Hitch replied. "The rest just confirmed it."
You laughed, shaking your head as the three of you started the familiar walk back to the apartment. The sidewalks were mostly empty now, save for a few couples wandering hand in hand and the occasional group spilling out of nearby bars. Everything felt slower somehow, softened by the late hour and the lingering buzz in your head.
Hitch suddenly linked her arm through yours, nearly dragging you off balance. "You're leaving tomorrow," she mumbled dramatically. "I don't like that."
"I'm not even gone yet."
"I know," she sighed. "That's the worst part."
"You've had four cocktails," Annie reminded her. "Everything is the worst part right now."
"It is."
The conversation drifted from one meaningless topic to the next. Hitch insisted she could beat Annie in a race despite barely walking in a straight line. Annie told her she'd probably trip over her own feet before making it ten steps. Hitch challenged her anyway, only to lose almost immediately after stumbling into a lamp post, sending all three of you into another fit of uncontrollable laughter.
By the time your apartment door came into view, the three of you had calmed down enough to stop laughing every thirty seconds. Hitch slowed to a stop instead of heading inside. "Wait," she said, holding up a hand. "Come here." You and Annie exchanged a look. "What?" Annie asked.
"Just... come here." Neither of you argued. The three of you stepped closer until Hitch threw an arm around each of your shoulders, pulling you into an awkward, slightly lopsided group hug. "I hate that you're leaving tomorrow," she mumbled into your shoulder. You laughed quietly. "It's not like I'm disappearing."
"I know, but it's still annoying." Annie wrapped an arm around both of you for a brief second before pulling away. "Okay, that's enough. She's coming back eventually." "See?" you said.
"I know," Hitch sighed, finally letting go. "Doesn't mean I have to like it." She unlocked the front door, and the three of you shuffled inside. The apartment was quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioning. "I'm showering," Annie announced, already walking toward the hallway. "I refuse to wake up smelling like tequila."
"You smell like tequila now?" Hitch asked. "You all do." Hitch sniffed the sleeve of her shirt before making a face. "Huh." "You'll survive," Annie called over her shoulder as she disappeared into her room. Hitch yawned, rubbing at one eye. "I'm going to bed before I regret every drink I've had tonight." She paused outside your door. "Wake me up before you leave tomorrow, okay?"
"I will."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
She gave you a small smile before heading down the hall, her bedroom door clicking shut a moment later. For the first time all night, the apartment was completely still, you stepped into your room and quietly closed the door behind you. Your half-packed suitcase sat open on the floor where you'd left it earlier. There wasn't much left to pack, just your phone charger on the nightstand, the book you'd been reading, and the sweatshirt hanging over the desk chair.
You folded the sweatshirt and tucked it into the last empty space before unplugging your charger and slipping it into the front pocket. After one final glance around the room to make sure nothing had been left behind, you zipped the suitcase shut.
With nothing left to pack, there wasn't much else to do. You took a shower and changed into an old T-shirt, washed the remnants of makeup from your face, and climbed into bed, setting an alarm that felt much too early. You stared at the ceiling for a while, replaying the night in scattered pieces, the terrible shots, Hitch nearly racing into a lamp post, Annie pretending not to laugh before laughing the hardest.
A small smile tugged at your lips.
Tomorrow would soon come and then you would deal with all the previous anxieties you had stored away. For now, you rolled onto your side, pulled the blankets up to your shoulders, and let sleep find you before you had the chance to think too much about leaving.
⋆˚꩜｡