Amory is the first to wake up, probably due a mix of his circadian rhythm already being used to rising early and his excitement to see Vallie. He rose quietly from the bed, careful not to rouse Lou, then slipped out of the room still in his pajamas.

He looked around the living room, feeling foolish for hoping that Vallie would be waiting there. Tyler never gave them an exact time frame, so he knew that there was some possibility that she wouldn't be there until much later in the day. Not wanting to go back to bed, Amory took a seat on the couch and flicked on the TV, careful to keep the volume low. He froze when he heard the creak of the steps behind him, worried he woke someone up, before turning and seeing Ophelia, bright-eyed as ever.

"Oh." She spoke, her smile dropping only slightly. "Hey, Amory."

"Expecting someone else?" Amory teased before patting the spot next to him for her to sit.

She didn't have to say. Of course she was expecting someone else, she had hoped to descend the stairs and see Vallie sitting there. She selfishly wanted to be the first one to see her, to hug and laugh and not care if they woke the others. Ophelia had gotten very little sleep due to this very excitement.

Ophelia took the seat next to Amory despite there being plenty of room elsewhere, and he threw a heavy arm around her shoulders. He squeezed her lightly into his side before letting her go, knowing that she needed the comfort just as much as he did. They sat in silence for a few moments, nothing but little yawns escaping their mouths.

"Do you still write?" Ophelia questioned after a bit, turning her attention away from the TV.

"Yeah, I do." Amory smiled warmly, happy that she remembered that passion of his. He liked the idea of being thought of as a writer first, rather than a football player. In all the haze of missing Vallie and hating Tyler, he hadn't found the time to write yet during the trip.

"Me too." Ophelia smiled back brightly.

Without even having to communicate their thoughts, they both dispersed back to their rooms and retrieved their laptops. They didn't need wifi to open up word documents, and now in the early morning quiet, disrupted only by the singing of birds outside, it felt like the perfect time to put their thoughts to words. Ophelia started a pot of coffee and made herself a cup before settling back down by Amory, their knees touching.

Amory's book was really more of a skeleton than anything else. He had so many ideas, so many scenes or quotes that would pop into his head while working out, or at the grocery store, or on the field. Although he didn't want to admit it to himself, he was scared. Nothing was more terrifying to him than the idea that he would never write a book that would outshine his football career, and he would only ever be remembered by history as the stellar wide receiver on the less than stellar team.

Ophelia didn't have the same hang ups about writing, because she was not interested in writing a book. At least, she wasn't right now. At this point in her life, she was only interested in writing short form, things like poems, short stories, essays. Anything that she could pour her heart into, to drain whatever emotion was holding her down out nice and neatly, so she could feel like she was able to breathe again.

The only issue now, was, she wasn't sure what she was feeling. She wasn't exactly angry at Vallie, more just hurt and confused. That was muddled by her feelings of excitement, though, so it was making it hard for her to put anything concrete down. She found herself sipping from her mug, then glancing over at Amory's blank word document, then his face.

"What are you working on right now?" She tilted her head to the side, eyeing him.

"I honestly don't even know." Amory rubbed at his eyes. "I want to write something that means something to people, but I'm not even sure what that means."

"Well, what means something to you?" Ophelia studied his features, taking in his sharp jaw and thick brows. He was stunning, though she knew that of course. He had plenty of fangirls to prove it.

Amory thought about that question. The answers were simply: his mom, his sister, his friends. They were the only things that had ever meant anything to him. Not football, not working out, not money or fame. He didn't answer, though, because the truth seemed far too vulnerable to slip from his lips.

"Whatever it is," Ophelia started after a moment, realizing he didn't know what to say. "Write about that. I think sometimes people worry too much about trying to make things deep and philosophical, when what really hit the hardest are the little things we keep close to our heart."

Amory looked at the girl beside him as if he was seeing her for the first time. This wasn't the bright ray of sun that blinded everyone whenever she walked into the room, this was the light peaking through the clouds after the heaviest of rainstorms. Ophelia was more than just unyielding optimism and smiles, she was truth and knowledge and the reminder that there was still good in the world. Amory nodded, a dumb smile on his face, then began to type despite not knowing what he even wanted to say.

Ophelia and Amory spent hours like that, the room filled with nothing more than the sound of their fingers against the keys and the occasional sip from Ophelia's mug. The others began to wake up, filtering in and out of the living room, the kitchen, the bathroom, but no one disturbed them.

Caspar chose to read in the living room upstairs again, so Marc and Nadia were left in their room alone. When Nadia's stomach grumbled, Marc went downstairs and got them each a bowl of cereal. Nadia smiled when he returned, sitting up in her bed and accepting the bowl and spoon.

"You know, I have half a mind to put you in my suitcase and bring you back to Europe with me, just so you could keep me fed and entertained." Nadia sighed after her first bite of cereal.

"I'm sure you're plenty entertained in Geneva." Marc rolled his eyes lightly, a small smile on his face. He hoped she couldn't hear the light bit of resentment in his voice, the jealousy that she was off living her dreams whilst he was futilely chasing his own. Still, the hopeful thought of abandoning it all and running off to Europe, learning about the culture and the cuisine with no pressure to hide his wonder, excited him.

"You could do it, you know." Nadia seemed to read his thoughts, turning uncharacteristically serious. They were always so playful with one another, never getting too serious, but she could see the change in him the same way Ophelia could. She was happy that he had mellowed out, but concerned about the reasons why. "You could just take off and say fuck law and be like, the next Gordon Ramsey."

Marc laughed at this, ignoring the more serious tone of her words. He had no interest in being a celebrity chef, and he knew he should have no interest in being a chef at all. Still, the desire pooled in him heavily, only growing stronger with each passing day. He knew he would die of boredom in a law firm, but he feared he'd die of heartbreak if he betrayed his family's wishes.

"I'm serious!" Nadia sat up, placing her bowl of cereal on the nightstand. "You're like, super talented, Marc. It's a waste not to show the world that."

"Going into cooking is risky." Marc shook his head, regurgitating words that he imagined his family would tell him. He had this talk with them in his head a million times, and it always ended the same. Being a lawyer was safe, it was certain, any other option was not.

"Your best friend is an NFL athlete." Nadia deadpanned. "You know the chances of making it that far? Do you know the percent of people who actually do? He took the risk, and he got there. Besides, I'm sure he would have connections, if that's what you're worried about."

Marc didn't say anything else, for fear that he would break entirely. Instead, he pushed around a cheerio in his bowl and didn't look at the girl across from him. He wished that this tripped existed in an alternate universe, where their real life problems didn't exist and they could be stripped of all fears and worry. It was a foolish thought, but one he couldn't shake.

Nadia realized that she had pushed too far, but she didn't exactly feel bad. Someone needed to say it, otherwise they would all regret it when they saw him miserable 20 years down the line. Still, she moved on, because she knew that was what he wanted.

"Do we know what time Vallie is getting in?" She posed the question casually, hoping it would bring Marc out of his thoughts.

"I don't think so." Marc finally looked up, furrowing his brows. "What shift does she work?"

Nadia didn't know the answer to that question, and that made her feel guilty. It was not lost on her the way that she and Vallie grew apart, how her voicing her concerns about Tyler and making it clear she felt Vallie was making a mistake impacted their dynamic. They once were so young and carefree, taking trips into the city alone and screaming along to every song that came on the radio. That all changed, and at one point Nadia thought that Vallie might never speak to her again, until the invitation came.

"I'm not sure." Nadia shrugged honestly. "We haven't really kept up in the last few years."

Marc nodded in understanding, because he and Vallie hadn't kept in touch either. They weren't the closest out of the group, and he had grown so very tired, but it still made him sad to watch her slip right through his fingers. She was probably the kind of girl his parents expected him to bring home, mild mannered and decently hardworking, but not so hardworking that she wouldn't stop to raise a family with him. The thought alone made him sick.

"Well, we should probably go see what the others are doing. We can't wait around all day for her to show up." Nadia shrugged and stretched, picking up her bowl and leading Marc downstairs.

That ended up being exactly what the group did. Even as Tyler emerged from his room without a word and headed outside with his keys. None of them suggested going to the pond or venturing too far from the house, in fear that they'd miss Vallie's arrival. No one wanted to say out loud that her behavior was odd, and that they needed to just see her to confirm that everything was truly okay.

Hours went by with no return of Tyler and no arrival of Vallie. Their activities varied, from playing music on the radio to watching movies on tv to chatting idly. When it finally hit 4 pm with still no word from the married couple, Caspar discreetly pulled Lou upstairs, away from the others.

"Everything okay?" Lou questioned, her heart pounding so loud in her chest that she feared he might hear it. Sure, they had finally talked, and things seemed normal between them, but now they were all alone and his hand was still lightly holding her elbow and she felt she might just burst.

"I-uh... I'm worried about Vallie, honestly." Caspar responded, telling the truth. He loved the others, truly, but he didn't feel comfortable telling them he was worried. That was reserved only for Lou. "And I have to show you something."

He guided her through the room slowly, then slid open the drawer by the couch. He watched Lou's face, rather than looking at the contents themself. He watched the way her brows furrowed, and then how her eyes widened, before she pushed the drawer closed roughly.

"That's weird, isn't it?" Caspar raised his brows. "I mean, I know it's not weird for people in Pennsylvania to own guns, but don't they usually have like, a safe or something?"

Lou gulped, her mind reeling. Was it weird? She wasn't sure. Her mom didn't own guns, and to the best of her knowledge neither did her father. She was raised by a handful of people; aunts, uncles, friends of the family, and she had never seen a gun in person before. She reasoned with herself that that did not mean this was odd, it simply meant that it was foreign to her.

"I..." Lou paused, hating the sound of her voice breaking. She regained her composure and shook her head. "I don't know, honestly. Maybe it's a protection thing, like if anyone were to break in they always have one stored somewhere? It's not like they have children in the home to find it or anything."

Caspar considered this, his lips pursing. It was possible, he supposed, but they were basically in the middle of nowhere. Plus, there were plenty of nicer houses in these mountains that robbers would probably scope out first. Still, Lou was so calm and so very smart, and he wanted to believe that she knew best.

"Do you think it's Tyler's?" Caspar asked next, glancing around at the various decorations he had singled out as Tyler's a few nights before.

"Maybe?" Lou responded, the word coming out like a question. "He's so hard to read, honestly. I wouldn't be surprised if he was the kind of guy to hide guns all over a house to feel protected."

Caspar nodded slowly, and then they were blanketed back in silence. They hadn't noticed the way that he was still lightly clutching her arm, something keeping them calm and protected in the face of an object that could not hurt them. Not without someone using it, of course.

They both looked down at where they were connected, holding their breath simultaneously for a minute before Caspar slowly let go of her. Lou suddenly felt cold without his hand there, though she didn't like admitting it to herself. Rather than think too much about it, she nodded her heads towards the steps, and they went back to join the others.

Hours passed, until the sound of a car approaching alerted them around 8 pm. The headlights shined into the living room, and they all sat up in anticipation. When the front door opened and only Tyler entered, it felt as if the air was sucked out of the room.

"Where is Vallie?" Amory asked, not even giving Tyler a moment to take off his shoes.

Tyler huffed, and they all realized that he was angry. Very angry, it seemed. He kicked off his sneakers and clenched his fists as he straightened up, eyes shooting daggers directly at Amory.

"Sent me a text saying she can't make it down today." He breathed out, finally surveying the others in the room. Before anyone could speak again, he held up a hand. "And none of you better give me any shit about it, because this isn't my fucking fault."

He was storming out of the room before anyone could protest, leaving all of them in mild shock. He grumbled as he went, speaking under his breath, though Nadia thought she heard him say 'that fucking bitch.' His door closed with a slam, causing Ophelia to jump in her seat.

Then, everything was quiet.

---

hahaha Vallie's so silly like girl stop working :)

Does anyone else find it extremely hard to write writers? Like, I love writing, but my mind goes blank when I'm supposed to figure out what a writer character is writing about. I hope that doesn't show too much with Amory and Ophelia.

I would love to know which character everyone relates to most thus far? I think I'm probably a mix of Vallie and Ophelia.