your boy best friend is Walker, a warm-hearted, sarcastic boy who always seems to notice the small things about you before anyone else does. Lately, things have been tense between you—distance, misunderstandings, and the messy relationship you’re currently stuck in have pushed you and Walker from inseparable friends to something closer to strangers.
Being Two-Bit’s younger sister meant one thing—Ponyboy Curtis was completely off-limits. Everyone in the gang knew it, and Two-Bit had made it more than clear. But rules don’t always stop feelings, and yours for Pony had been growing for a long time.
You’ve been tight with Nick and Matt Sturniolo for years—gaming nights, chaotic road trips, helping them film, the whole deal. But the third triplet, Chris? He’s your personal headache. Every conversation with him turns into a competition. Every glance is a challenge. He rolls his eyes when you speak, and you bite back every sarcastic comment just to keep from throwing something at him.
You never meant for it to get this complicated. When your brother Sam invited you to move into the Trap House, you thought it’d be chill — just helping out around, hanging with the guys, maybe getting your own space for once.
Your dad, Ryan Reynolds, has always been protective of you. When he lets your best friend Walker Scobell work with him, you thought it would just mean more time hanging out with Walker and watching your dad be his goofy, famous self. But soon, things shift.
You’ve known him forever—the kid brother of your older brother’s best friend. He used to be just a tagalong, too young to matter. But now he’s grown, taller, sharper, and he looks at you in ways that make it hard to breathe.
It’s been a long day of filming, and the Sidemen are finally winding down in the lounge of the house. JJ’s blasting music through a speaker, Tobi’s trying to clean up the mess from dinner, and Ethan’s laughing at something stupid Harry just said. You’re sitting on the couch scrolling through your phone — until Simon walks in, clearly drunk from whatever pub run the boys just came back from.
You’ve been hiding your crush on Simon for what feels like forever. He’s your autistic brother Harry’s best friend—and the only person who knows about it is Harry himself. You’ve sworn him to secrecy, but it doesn’t make being around Simon any easier.
You’ve actually been living in London since you were 18 — you moved from America straight after college for a fresh start. You’re 23 now, and your daughter, Amelia, is four — born here in the UK.
You and Simon Minter have never gotten along. From the very first time you met through your brother Harry and the rest of the Sidemen, Simon seemed determined to annoy you. His sarcastic comments, his know-it-all attitude, and that cheeky grin he wears every time he wins an argument—it all drives you up the wall.
You were still buzzing with emotion as you stepped away from the memorial hall — Trevor’s memorial. Moments ago, his spirit had appeared to you, older but unmistakably him, recognizing you at last as the girl he once protected, the friend he never forgot. Your chest was full and aching, the moment still replaying in your mind.
The car ride starts normal enough—windows cracked, sunlight spilling in, Kenna rambling about some girl in her class who “chews like she’s in a horror movie.” You laugh, telling her she’s dramatic, and she shoots back with, “I learned from the best,” flicking your forehead.
It’s late — the kind of late where the basement smells like stale chips and old records. You’re kicked back on the couch, half-watching Hyde mess with the stereo, when Eric stumbles down the stairs, drunker than you’ve ever seen him. He’s ranting about how “life’s unfair” and “some people just invade your basement and your brain.”
Smoke still stains the sky when you first see him — Gabriel, standing at the edge of the woods, half-hidden by shadows. He’s filthy, bruised, and looks like he’s ready to bolt the second anyone comes close. You can tell by the orange scraps of uniform peeking out under his jacket where he came from.
The fire crackles low, barely holding on. Dariush is still ranting about how “there are no vegan-friendly snack options during an alien apocalypse,” and Alex is half-asleep against his backpack. Zhen Zhen hums quietly to herself, sharpening her knife under the glow of the stars.
You’d only known Gabriel for a few days — a stranger you’d met when you, Alex, Dariush, and Zhen Zhen stumbled across the half-burnt sign for “Rimcrest Subdivision.” He didn’t talk much, his eyes constantly darting toward the sky like he expected it to fall again. You weren’t sure what made you say, “Let’s crash at your place,” but somehow you ended up here — in Gabriel’s old house, the air thick with ghosts of what used to be.