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❛ ʟᴇᴀᴛʜᴇʀ & ʟᴀᴄᴇ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐓𝐖𝐎 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ᴊᴜʟɪᴇᴛ ᴄᴀᴘᴇʟᴡᴏᴏᴅ's
ᴅɪsᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴀᴄᴛ ꒱


❝ LOVE IS SO SHORT,
FORGETTING IS SO LONG ❞

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"Are you for real?"

Shawn lay next to her with hardly any space between them; the small college bed didn't really give them much room. His arm was warm against her skin where it rested on her shoulder while his hand played with the red strands of her hair. His blue eyes met hers with slight confusion. "What do you mean?"

The redhead closed her eyes briefly to simply enjoy the moment as a small smile crept over her lips. She lifted her hand to gently cup his face and her fingers grazed against the light stubble that was starting to appear. "I don't know. It still seems like all of this is a dream. We took so long to get here that it's hard to believe we did."

Juliet could feel how warm her face was as she lay curled up on her bed. Outside, the sky was midnight-black and the streets were quiet because of how late it was. She brushed roughly at the tears that leaked out of her eyes which were screwed shut as she cried in silent, painful sobs. She moved her hand to her chest to rub against the pain that ached there, too.

The covers of her bed were strewn in a messy tangle towards her feet, having been kicked off when sleep (yet again) eluded her. The shadows in her room, illuminated by the streetlamps outside, shifted through the light curtains as the trees outside moved in the early August wind. Her apartment felt too hot and too cold all at once, from the heat on her cheeks from crying to the cool breeze that brushed against her skin.

Hope is for suckers.

How was that her outlook on life now? When she was younger, she'd always tried to be optimistic. Sure, her childhood hadn't been the greatest, but she'd made do with what she had and worked hard for what she didn't. She'd even tried to get her friends to look on the positive side of things when not everything went as planned. Now, her motto was hope is for suckers.

If she were being honest, Juliet didn't like who she had become. Where was the youthful girl that was almost always happy? Where was the 'strong, independent woman' that she'd always claimed to be? Who was this person that was crying over a breakup from three years ago? And, most importantly: why couldn't she move on?

The truth was that as much as she'd tried to erase her past from her current life, there were still little memories that lay around her home. Her Walkman that was loaded with Awesome Mixtape Vol. 2, which she had planned on giving to. . . him for his trip to New York. His leather jacket that still hung in her closet. Her high school year book that sat proudly— mockingly— on the book shelf in the main room.

In her opinion, it was these small but lingering souvenirs that kept her from a peaceful night's sleep. Those items were why she couldn't completely forget about the past, no matter how hard she tried. And finally, those items were her only way of getting back to her old self again.

🌎🌎🌎

The following morning, Juliet woke feeling drained and tired as if she hadn't slept at all. After completing her usual routine of getting ready, she decided to use the second day of the weekend to extend her birthday celebrations. (See, Kendrick? I do care about my birthday!) She grabbed her rain coat in case the weather changed and headed out to the theater.

When the movie was over, Juliet couldn't entirely remember what she'd chosen to see. Her eyes had glazed over part way through, which could indicate an action film, but she didn't think that's what it had been. It was just that her thoughts had kept her attention from the movie as hope is for suckers repeated itself in a loop in her mind. She didn't want to be that negative; it wasn't her. She just. . . couldn't help it.

The movie seemed to make her dark mood worse. Whether it was because what she'd seen had been happy— something that definitely wouldn't help— or because she watched them film when she was sad, it just wasn't the same. As she walked out of the theater the light drizzle had returned, so she put on her coat. She lifted the hood to cover her red hair and slid her hands into the pockets, only to freeze.

Oh, yeah. There was that, too.

The fingers of her right hand brushed against a small, rectangular box. The unused ring seemed to burn into her skin as a reminder of what could have been. For months after the breakup, she'd kept it in her pocket in case he ever showed up and she could. . . try again. It travelled from her rain coat to her winter coat to her bathrobe— anything that had pockets, really. Back when she'd had hope that everything had just been a big, terrible joke, she'd practiced over and over again different variations of what she would say had she gotten a second chance.

But if she called him now — or he called her— what could, what would she say?

'I love you. I needed you. You broke my heart.'

No.

Who wanted to hear that? Even in her own head, she could hear the desperation in her voice and it made her cringe. It was better to just move on.

The rain remained light as she walked so she took her time and window shopped. Most of the items were too expensive for her taste as she still had the mindset of her childhood and the need to make ends meet. Still, it was a rather enjoyable Sunday out despite the way her heart jumped every time her hand shifted in her pocket.

A little while later, she came across a hair salon with a flashy sign: 'SUMMER LOOK MAKEOVER! 15% ALL CUTS & COLORS!'

Juliet watched through the glass as the woman in the chair closest to her sat patiently as foils were being set in her hair. In the next chair, a stylist was busily snipping away at another woman's already short strands.

Maybe it isn't possible to get back to who I used to be, the redhead thought. But that doesn't mean I can't become someone new.

🌎🌎🌎

When she stepped out of the salon, Juliet didn't exactly feel the effect as she'd hoped she would; she still felt the same except maybe a little more self-conscious. The redhead debated for a long time over which style to get until settling on one that stopped just below her shoulders and the ends curled in to frame her face. Then, she chose to cover up her natural, trademark red hair with the darkest midnight-black shade that the salon offered. As she described what she wanted to the stylist, the woman had raised an interested eyebrow.

"Recent breakup?" she asked, seeming to recognize the weight behind the request.

Juliet's lips had thinned at the direct mention— something that not even Kendrick had spoken aloud. Then, her gaze had flicked away from the mirror to where her hands rested in her lap. "Something like that," she'd mumbled. Luckily, the stylist didn't press the issue further.

Now, Juliet stood on the sidewalk with her raincoat hood up. The logical part of her knew that no one would think twice about her hair, but the fact that she knew made all the difference in the world. To help ease her nerves, she hailed a cab home rather than walk the distance so she'd pass less people. Thankfully, she didn't pass anyone in the hallways of her building and made it to her apartment without any comments about her new look.

When she shut the door, she stood inside the entryway for a minute to just. . . process everything. She leaned against the door and rested her head against the solid wood as she closed her eyes. Her bag dropped to the floor as her grip on its straps loosened. After taking a few deep breaths, she opened her eyes to let her gaze roam around the place where she lived.

Her attention was drawn to the bookshelf where her yearbook sat. Almost as if she were moving in a dream, Juliet slowly made her way over to the shelf to take down the hard cover book. She sat down on the couch and cracked it open; she'd only looked through it once on the first day she'd gotten it.

Many of the faces were unfamiliar to her and a sharp, inexplicable feeling of guilt stabbed through her briefly. She didn't know why she felt it, except it made her realize how small her world had been. With the exception of her college years and her ex-boyfriend Jack, she'd never branched out as Kendrick had recently been encouraging her to do. She'd always had three best friends and now look where that had gotten her: she'd put all her eggs in one basket, as the saying went.

Juliet slowly turned the pages of her yearbook to take in each foreign face despite the fact that she'd spent at least four years with all of them. She purposefully made sure to skip the H section and quickly flipped to the Js. She paused on the Ls as she came across Topanga's spot. She briefly entertained the idea of calling her once-best friend, but that would lead to a lot of uncomfortable questions— not to mention that she and Cory would probably try to get them back together.

It was best to just let the distance separate them.

Finally, she reached the Ms. A faint smile flickered across her face at Cory's rather goofy school picture. Just seeing his face frozen in time made memories of all their hijinks come rushing back and Juliet realized that she missed him more than she'd thought. But, just like Topanga, it was too much of a risk. She didn't know if she'd ever be ready to see him again, especially when it had only been three years.

She hastily flipped the page to rid herself of her traitorous thoughts only to stop suddenly. She stared down at the page with wide-eyed disbelief at the thick, black numbers that were scrawled in Sharpie next to the name Minkus. Juliet didn't have a clue on how he'd gotten access to her yearbook but then again, this was the class genius. She let out a short, incredulous laugh despite herself. Though she had no intention of actually calling him, she appreciated the bold move.

He'd written right over his picture, too: just in case you change your mind!

The message cheered her up more than she liked to admit, enough to set the book aside and stop reminiscing. But, it had made its point: she needed to stop living in the past— and waiting for the past to catch up to her. She would gather up everything that caused her grief and shove it out of sight. Some people had skeletons in their closets, she was going to have a hatbox of her childhood memories.

🌎🌎🌎

It took a few hours (and she'd stopped to have dinner), but by ten p.m. she'd gathered everything that could possibly remind her of the people that she was no long in contact with. She displayed everything on her bed with the large box sitting on a chair at the foot of it.

The first to go in was a set of smaller, round boxes. These held all of the photos she'd taken with her Polaroid over the years, some good and some bad, but all of them saved. The earliest were from the day she'd gotten the camera on her ninth birthday. Then, it was a time lapse through middle school, high school and college; a large majority were of her and at least one of her three friends. The rest were of trial photos of good ideas that she'd never been able to express properly or fuzzy studies of the landscape.

Next into the box were the birthday and holiday cards that she'd received over the years. While she hadn't kept all of them, those that remained were from her friends (and later, those who became boyfriends.) Juliet knew that it was probably better to just throw these things away, but a part of her knew that one day, somewhere in the future, she'd be able to move on enough to want to look back at the past. Like Kendrick had said, forgetting it entirely wasn't wise.

Then came the larger, non-paper items. Her cellphone from the 90s— the one that she'd used to call him every night while he'd been on the road— along with her Polaroid camera went on the second level.

The only time Juliet hesitated in storing away her items was when she picked up the ring box. There was still a whisper of what if. . .? in the back of her mind that kept her from tossing it in with the rest of her stuff. But really, would she even want to marry him now? She'd spent so many nights crying over their break up and would now spend double that amount of time trying to find herself again. A 'strong, independent woman' did not wait around for the man who broke her heart to realize his mistakes.

Her fingers tightened around the sharp edges for a moment as if to push all of her feelings that went with the rectangular box inside of it. Then, she nestled it between the phone and the camera.

Only one item remained: the leather jacket.

Ironically, it was easier to fold this item and lay it neatly on top than it had been to let the ring box go. Despite its more direct connections to her past relationship, Juliet didn't seem to have an emotional attachment as she did with the item that represented her failure. She stared at the black fabric that hid the remains of her past— almost as if it were a symbol of Shawn's last act to protect her feelings— before she closed the lid and taped it shut.

And that was that.

🌎🌎🌎

The next day, Juliet felt as though she'd been reset. This time when she stared up at her pale-colored ceiling, it wasn't out of grief or disorientation. (Well, maybe it was a little bit of the latter as seeing the new, black strands of her hair was a bit of a shock.) Instead, she marveled at how. . . empty she felt, as if she'd finally cried out all of her feelings and there was nothing left to give. It was more refreshing than anything she'd experienced in the past three years.

Today when she slowly got out of bed, it was to admire how bright and new the morning looked rather than dread the hours of heartache that she would normally endure. As she got ready, she looked at herself in the mirror and promised: the past is dead. Leave it where it's supposed to be. It's time to become someone new.

She had no idea who this new version of herself was going to be, but maybe she would finally start taking Kendrick's advice and branch out. She could. . . well, she wasn't exactly sure how to make new friends because it had been so long since she'd needed them. After realizing this, Juliet decided that her next order of business was to get her laptop to Google her answer. The idea felt rather silly, as if she were just entering middle school instead of being a fully-grown adult, but she was too embarrassed to ask her real-life friends. Besides, they'd probably overreact with positivity and she didn't want her decision to have an audience.

As she made her way into the main room where she kept her computer charged by the far window, her eyes fell on the yearbook that she'd accidentally left out of her 'cleansing' exercise. Juliet rolled her eyes at her own forgetfulness and went to pick it up to put it away, only to pause. If she was a person who believed in fate or coincidences (like Topanga did), she would have chalked it up to what she found: the book was open to Minkus' page with his phone number staring back at her, daring her to call.

Now, the old Juliet would never have followed through with the prompt. But, this was new, improved Juliet who was going to be the complete opposite of her former self. She was going to be bolder, less uncertain and willing to take more risks (ironically, more how she'd been during her middle school years.) So, she picked up the book and went over to where her landline stood on the kitchen counter.

Of course, these types of world-altering changes didn't happen overnight. One cannot suddenly become fearless or outgoing or adventurous on a whim; it takes practice. Despite her confidence in her decision, the yearbook shook in Juliet's hands so that she had to place it on the counter to read the numbers. She chewed on her bottom lip as she slowly pressed each number— almost as if hearing the dial tone would bring some horrible fate upon her. Her breathing was shallow as she waited for it to ring, ring, ring.

(What if he no longer had this number? It was entirely likely that he changed it after three-plus years. Maybe he wasn't going to pick up. What would she do then? The adrenaline that was currently rushing through her would be for nothing, all this worry would be pointless—)

"Hello?"

Juliet's breath caught as soon as she recognized Minkus' voice. While they hadn't been close in school, hearing it brought back forgotten childhood memories when everything had been simpler. It took her a moment to reply. "Minkus? Is that you?"

"Yes." There was a pause, almost one of incredulity. "This isn't. . . this isn't Juliet Capelwood, is it?"

She didn't bother asking how he knew— he was a genius, after all. "Yeah. I finally got your message. But, in my defense, you never called me. What happened to keeping in touch?"

He laughed with disbelief. "I got a little busy. You finally opened that old yearbook, huh? I'm surprised Hunter let you call."

The (now) dark-haired woman stiffened at the mention of her ex-boyfriend. "First of all," she began sternly, "no one lets me do anything— I decide things for myself, thank you very much. And second—" Here, her voice lost its bravado and became quieter. "—we split up."

There was another pause, this time on Minkus' side. "Split up? Like what nuclear fission does to atoms?"

"Yep." She quickly changed the subject. "How've you been? What did you mean by 'you've been busy?'"

Thankfully, he took the bait— Minkus could never resist showing off. "Do you remember in sixth grade when we did the pre-union project?"

"When you said that we'd have a kid named Hermione Minkus?"

"Hermione Einstein Minkus," he corrected her. "But yes. While we're a few years behind on that front, I've gotten a jumpstart on the business side with Minkus International."

Juliet shook her head at his stubborn insistence, but a small smile curled on her lips in spite of it. "Minkus, you've got to let that go. You might be more stubborn than— well, never mind. Are you international yet?"

"Well, no. I guess it's more accurate to say Minkus East Coast, but don't get too used to that name— it's going to change quickly, I can assure you." There was a moment of silence as they both tried to figure what to say next. "Uh, I guess I haven't asked what you've been up to."

"Oh! Well, a-after the. . . the breakup," she managed to get out, "I moved to London and I've been here for three years with my friends from college. I came over for a spot in the London Symphony Orchestra— I play the violin— and I'm working on my PhD for criminal justice. I'm almost done," she added proudly.

"London?" Minkus repeated with interest. "I'll have to come see one of your concerts once I get my own helicopter. Maybe I'll even be willing to give you a sky-high tour."

To her surprise, Juliet found herself enjoying the thought. "I'd like that," she admitted. "And-and you don't even have to wait until you own your own helicopter to come, if you want to."

"Sounds like a plan. And Juliet?"

"Yeah?"

"My friends call me Stuart."

A/n: I was so excited to post the first chapter of this act last week that I forgot to include some things in my author's note, lol. The first important PSA is that, when we get to the actual GMW episodes, some of them will be out of order from their canon placement. This was done on purpose. Since it's a sitcom, episode order doesn't really matter as long as it's kept within the same season. Please don't comment things like 'this isn't supposed to be before____!' or 'this is after____.' I'm fully aware that I've put them in a different order.

The second thing is that I wanted to ask is for your guys' input. I already have a pairing for one of the teenage cast (Farkle x OC) but I don't really have any ideas for everyone else. So, I wanted to know what you guys prefer before I plan the other two acts. You can comment next to each pairing to vote, if you'd like:

Lucaya

Rucas

Rilaya

If you have other pairings that you'd like to see that aren't listed here, I'd be open to considering them as well!

On a separate note: me writing this chapter with my plan for act i in mind: