#residuals

There was nowhere in the entire trauma center that you could go to get away from her and, knowing Gloria, she wasn’t going to make it easy for you. Realistically, you understood that Gloria was just another cog in the corporate machine. She rode your ass - and every other medical professional in the system from doctors during residency to technicians and CNAs - because it’s what the big bad CEOs demanded. The hospital functioned on efficiency facilitated by money and if too many bad Yelp reviews arrived it systematically hurt numbers. Bad numbers equaled a bad flow of funds. 

Gloria no doubt listened to her bosses during an early morning meeting where they rattled off complaint after complaint that dealt with a showcase of data and numbers. Both, of which, the board constantly claimed, showed the true efficiency of the hospital - not the life-saving measures taken to keep people alive. No doubt its main focus rested on the emergency department downstairs, because, once again, Yelp reviews of massive wait times and poor satisfaction scores outweighed the expertise of attending doctors. 

You didn’t envy Gloria’s position of being hated for being said cog in the corporate machine. Her job focused on relaying the demands from the top. Gloria was forever the bad guy to staff whenever they noticed her no-nonsense demeanor coming towards them. It was hard to be sympathetic to her plight when she followed you around like a bloodhound. The woman was relentless.

“The board would like to see if applying additional support down in the emergency department would help alleviate time issues that are keeping patient satisfaction at a tremendous low.” 

Absolutely not. 

You would rather chew your arm off than be sent down there. Your retreat came to a halt as you turned to face her. There weren't too many places inside the hospital you could go, and you were willing to bet Gloria was willing to follow you anywhere until you conceded. Plus, you came to a full stop in front of the elevator, and no matter how much you’d like to magically teleport yourself inside of it, unfortunately, you were mortal and would just have to wait.

Gloria’s hands were interlocked in front of her middle - eyes drilling miniature holes in you that not that long ago used to make you squirm. That was back when you were just starting your internship - eager back then to make a great first impression. Terrified of being reprimanded for making an unpopular decision or speaking your mind. 

“Gloria, I’m in family medicine.”

“Last time I checked you started in the emergency department and helped out in intensive care.”

“Yes, great memory, Gloria. If you also recall, I moved to family medicine where I’ve been for the last couple of years.”

The transfer to family medicine was a hard pill to swallow. You’d grown accustomed to the craziness of the ER. The constant adrenaline rush that required you to always bring your A game. Where the anxiety was at an all-time maxed-out high where a simple mistake cost lives but a quick deduction could save them. Once you’d moved upstairs to help out Dr. Nave’s family practice, it’d been a huge adjustment. Eventually, once your body got used to the monotony of the days, you found you were finally able to sleep. To be semi-normal. 

There was no denying, however, that you left something important behind in The Pitt. Something you hoped you could leave there inside its sterile rooms and the overwhelming storm of emotions.  

“I’m not asking you to go back down there to answer every trauma call. I’m asking you to take your family medicine knowledge downstairs to help assess triage for minor issues -“

“You mean people who come in for chest colds,” you interrupted. 

“ - and help the senior doctors clear out these cases so they can focus on more immediate health care concerns.”

Gloria’s words crushed your small outburst and bore down on your shoulders, keeping you from trying to move away. Her hands were now connected at her elbows, which was her silent way of informing you she didn’t appreciate you trying to talk over her. That no would never be an acceptable answer. 

You felt the drag of your teeth against your cheek. The temptation to bite down to relieve your growing irritation was overwhelming but futile. No matter what argument you came up with, you knew Gloria was here to make sure what the board requested was done. 

Instead of bloodshed, you eased your frustration out inch by inch through your nose. Your eyes scanned over the shitty egg wash walls while you debated all of your available options, which were a big fat none. 

“How long?”

Gloria didn’t need clarification on what you were asking. The way she practically preened like a peacock let you know she knew she’d won. 

“As long as the board requires it.”

“I’ll do it just for today,” you interjected, ignoring her raised brow. “Today you can see if pulling me from Nave’s floor makes your charts or numbers move or whatever data it is you all look at. If it does nothing, today is my first and last day going down.”

Gloria considered your counterargument. The sharpness in her eyes brightened; the terms of this new agreement were revised without you knowing the new verbiage. The only thing you were sure of was that you could count on this small verbal agreement being drawn out in document form for you to sign later.  

“Alright, Dr. Fullerton. You’ve got a deal. I’m sure the board will agree. Now come on. If we walk down fast enough maybe, you’ll make it in time for shift change.”

She didn’t wait to see if you were going to follow. Why would she when Gloria knew very well you weren’t going to fight it, especially when the main reason for your denial currently wouldn’t be working today. 

Anniversaries were never really Robby’s thing.

You would never admit it, but your anxiety was fifteen feet away from grabbing you in a chokehold. 

Get a fucking grip.

It had been two years since you left the ER. Two years since Robby and you had called time on seven years together. Seven years of memories filled with all the good and bad, co-parenting Jake, and keeping your relationship secret until it wasn’t. The early years of walking to work together with quick kisses goodbye before you split up just before you turned onto the final street to the hospital. The both of you choose different entrances each time to try and not raise suspicion. 

It took Dana four days to figure out the two of you were together.

Dana was perceptive like that. Hell, she’d been the angel on your shoulder whispering hints that Robby just might like you as much as you liked him. 

“I told him to ask you out to dinner. He thinks you’ll say no.” “If he did ask, I should say no,” you countered.  Your eyes struggle to stay trained on the chart in front of you.  “Yeah, but I know you’ll say yes.” “And what makes you so sure about that, Dana?” “Because if you don’t stop giving each other googly eyes from across my nursing station I’m going to throttle you both.”

Robby had only been divorced from his wife for less than a year. You’d overheard snippets of conversations between Robby and Abbot, Dana, or Adamson about custody battles and visitations. The last thing you wanted to do was be a possible added stress to an already stressful situation. At least, that was the bullshit you kept telling yourself to try and stay away.

But Dana was right (she usually was, but you’d never tell her that). 

You couldn’t pinpoint a specific time when things started to change between the two of you. The coffee breaks on the roof looking out over the top of Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. The jokes that caused smiles to crest over his face, rivaled the glow from the sun's early morning rays. He told you later, in the med closet, how the sound of your laughter was something he looked forward to hearing; the warmth of it was enough to keep helping him make it through his shift. A sound he began to crave in the quiet corners of his home. You could still remember the phone calls and early texts. The caution and heavy breaths that harbored a desire that longed to reach out and consume the other. The two of you were equally afraid to be the one to take that first step over the bounds of professionalism. 

The two of you knew the dangers of playing with lingering touches and knowing glances. The way you both acted like you wouldn’t ultimately end up burned. You could still recall the way he’d traced his thumb across your lips. The possessive way his eyes followed the motion made the desire for him to close that space, to claim you, to take you, threatened to make you lose all self-control.

Eventually, you stopped listening to the warning signs of all the what ifs; of being the intern and worrying about how it would make you look. When Robby asked you out on that date you didn’t hesitate to say yes.

You didn’t think it was possible to fall in love with someone the way you did with Robby. He was so attentive; he was thoughtful in the most pragmatic ways - packing extra scrubs in your pack. Teaching you how to fish and the differences between the lures and bait. The way he took the time to explain the objects he carved from wood and how much pressure was necessary to create the grooves and pattern. The way his voice would sound as he read to you; the soothing vibrations of his baritone the safest place you could be with his fingers in your hair.

He carved out a life that made it possible for all three of you to co-exist. His son, Jake, becomes the deepest interwoven part of your life you never realized was missing. On days Robby had him, you planned camping trips up in the mountains to hike and fish. To go on museum trips into Jake’s latest hobbies with the two of you making sure to have his game day off to cheer embarrassingly loud for him in the stands. The shared looks of pain from beside each other on the couch while Jake practiced his clarinet upstairs when he thought he wanted to be in the school band. You got lost in furniture manuals, cooking dinners that ended a few times with questionable outcomes, and attempting to bake tarts and pies that led to a one-time usage of the fire extinguisher. The euphoria of loving someone and being loved so fiercely in return made the years feel weightless, and when Robby finally proposed it made so much sense to say yes. 

And COVID happened. 

The quarantine and the endless amounts of patients that just kept coming - that felt like, no matter what you did, they couldn’t be saved. Family and friends, you both knew were ravaged by the infection. There were no answers. No medical treatments that you knew for sure would be what would save them. It didn’t discriminate and took lives without mercy. You just came to work every day, exhausted, and fighting to do what you could to heal those you could. You showed up every day for your patients.

Then Adamson passed. 

There was no denying Robby blamed himself for what occurred with his mentor. It didn’t matter what you said. What Dana, Abbot, or anyone else said. The guilt weighed down on his conscience, pressed so violently, that eventually, Robby cracked under the strain. His grief was all-encompassing and the added loss that should’ve been experienced together, was left for only you to bear - widening the gap between you until it became a chasm. 

The last time you’d seen Robby he’d been leaving to go to work. The latest fight - the endless bitter silences that stretched on - tore at the fabric of your being. Fractured pieces you didn’t know how to pick up on your own no longer felt worth fighting for. So, you decided to remove yourself from the equation. 

When Robby came home from work that night you were already gone. Your engagement ring and house key sitting on a note that asked him not to contact you. He’d made it clear enough that there was no place for you in the new person that he was becoming - made it clear that your grief would be processed alone. 

And so that was how you ended up transferring to family medicine. How you made sure to steer clear of all the places Robby was known to frequent. You ignored, as politely as you could, texts from Dana. Refused to talk about him in a work capacity or to close friends. 

The truth was that you were still in love with Robby after all this time. The idea that someone else could ever make you feel as whole - as complete - didn’t exist. So, yes, you only agreed to come back down to the emergency department, where it all started, because you comfortably knew he wouldn’t be here. Dana, you could deal with her by using a little recon - you just needed to stay two steps ahead of her. Langdon was easier to deal with because his loyalty to Robby was absolute, which made you public enemy number one. For you, that meant he’d stay away from you on principle. 

You were in the middle of shoving down the growing dread that was threatening to spill out of you when you came around the north hall triage. It was morning rounds. It was the attending's job to give the early morning pep-talk, debrief about patients who came in last shift, and go over the board. What you found waiting for you was what looked very much like a fresh batch of interns and/or med students taking instructions from a doctor you knew painfully well. One that made you question if it was too late to back out and turn tail and run. 

“Oh, shit.” Dana huffed the words under her breath, but Robby caught them. The way each one dripped in a warning he should’ve heeded. “Gloria -” 

It didn’t surprise him to hear she was here. He’d been warned by Dana but what Robby hadn’t expected was to see you - you - standing beside her. 

You who he thought completely disappeared to the point you’d quit the hospital. You, who he thought of in the most inconvenient of times, who haunted him, and you who he wanted to fucking scream and curse at you but also ask how the fuck you’re doing because Jesus Christ…

He didn’t need this shit today.

At least you had the decency to look as uncomfortable as he felt.

“Good morning, Dr. Robby. I’m aware you and most of your emergency department know Dr. Fullerton. She used to work down here previously a few years back.”

“You could say that again,” Langdon muttered.

“I’m sorry why are you bringing a random fucking doctor down into The Pitt?”

The annoyance contrasted with the peaceful professionalism Gloria tried to hold together. But if she was going to bring random doctors down here, God, bring you fucking down here, he was damn sure going to make her work for it. Inch by irritating inch.

“We both know that Dr. Fullerton is not a hospital resident or an attending transfer. As previously stated, she worked down here in this very ED, with you no less. She also holds one of the highest Press Ganey scores in this hospital.”

“I’m sure she’s very proud,” his words ground out like he’d swallowed gravel.

Gloria shot him a warning look as she continued, “-Something I figure she could teach the new students and old physicians here. I’m bringing her down to assist Dr. McKay today in triage.”

“Let me guess - this either has to deal with the hospital's numbers or lack of working bodies down here. Am I right?”

“What a fantastic guess, Robby. It does indeed have to do with the hospitals' numbers and poor patient output. Based on those numbers alone today, if it shows Dr. Fullerton’s presence helps patient satisfaction go up and wait times decrease - even in the slightest - she’ll be staying here. Permanently.”

His jaw ticked violently. He wanted to bristle and tell her where to stick her metrics and numbers. To tell Gloria to get you the fuck out of his Pitt. Somewhere in his brain, his common sense slowly won out. It didn’t matter how much of a fit he threw; Gloria had every intention of making you stay. Down here. With him. 

Robby also knew, realistically, that the chances of you driving up productivity were high. You were a damn good doctor. One of the best. Adamson had made sure. Christ, Robby himself made sure. Fuck. The edges of his vision were beginning to tighten in glaring white; he needed to get away before he succumbed to a panic attack. 

He should’ve kept looking away, but he was fighting a losing battle trying to keep his eyes away from you. It’d been nearly two years since he came home to find you gone. Two years for him to think of the hundreds of thousands of questions that he would demand for you to answer if he ever saw you again. All those months of burying it all down, telling himself he got what he wanted, only for it to be dredged up, and on a day like today, he was already close to his breaking point.

You looked good. Great, even. Just as gorgeous as the first day he’d met you and begrudgingly, for a split second, he wondered how you saw him. If you were equally as fucked as he was.

“Make sure she stays with you up in triage, Dr. McKay. I don’t want to see her in my red zone.”

He didn’t wait to hear confirmation from Gloria or McKay. He didn’t bother to see if you understood he meant every word he said. You had no place down here. Robby needed to start his shift - to start the normalcy of seeing patients - before he completely forgot why he chose to come into work today. 

He needed to get away before all his resolve shattered. The easiest way to keep himself whole was to begin his day. To do his rounds and when he passed you, he did his best to pretend you didn’t even exist.

___________

Siren stared at the screen, her heart racing as she watched the final edit of her "Residuals" Challenge video. It had taken her a few attempts to get it right. She had poured every ounce of confusion, pain, and longing she had felt in the aftermath of her breakup into the performance, hoping to capture the complex layers of her heart in the simple act of pressing the record button.

She wasn't sure if she had done the song justice, but when she finished watching, she felt an undeniable weight lifted from her shoulders. The song, with its melancholic undertones and themes of unresolved love, was as much her truth as it was a reflection of the journey she’d been on since the end of her relationship with Zilla.

The beat was soft but persistent and mirrored her internal rhythms, the constant ebb and flow of emotions that tugged her in different directions. The lyrics, written in a raw, almost confessional style, were a reflection of everything she had been feeling for months. She had started to live in the shadow of the past, unable to fully escape the imprint Zilla had left on her heart.

The relationship had been filled with passion, hope, and promise, but it had also been laced with moments of doubt, insecurity, and emotional distance. Zilla had always been unpredictable, a force that drew her in while pushing her away at the same time.

As she listened to the track once more, her thoughts drifted back to the beginning of their relationship. She had been swept off her feet, completely unprepared for the intensity of what was to come. He was everything she had ever wanted in a partner. He was confident, charismatic, and full of life.

But over time, cracks began to form. He had told her time and time again that he would never make her cry, that he would always be there for her, but the promises became empty echoes. His words, once so full of certainty, now felt hollow, and she found herself questioning the foundation of everything they had built.

The first verse echoed through her mind: "You said you're never gonna make me cry / Want me to be myself / Never gonna lose again / You're the reason why..." The words felt like a direct hit to her heart, the memory of their last fight fresh in her mind. She had been pleading for attention, for reassurance that they were still on the same page, but every time she reached out, he was absent. "When I need you, you're always missing..." she sang along softly, her voice carrying a layer of sadness. Zilla had always been a little distant, always needing space, and Siren had tried so hard to give him that space. But somewhere along the way, her own needs were left behind, forgotten.

Her mind flicked to the pre-chorus: "Did we build it up, build it up / Just to let it wash away? / Tell me, did I lace you up, lace you up / Just to watch you run away?" She had invested everything into them, her time, her love, her energy but in the end, it felt like none of it had mattered. He had run away from her, both physically and emotionally, leaving her to pick up the pieces of a love that had once been so sure. The love she had given him felt wasted, like a gift unreturned, and the realization stung deeper than she cared to admit.

But it wasn’t just the breakup that hurt her. It was the lingering question of who was now the recipient of all the love, time, and energy she had once poured into Zilla. The chorus echoed louder in her mind: "Who's gettin' all my love? / Who's gettin' all my time? / All of that used to be mine..." She had to wonder if Zilla was now giving what was once hers to someone else, someone who was getting all of the things she had tried to offer. The jealousy, the confusion, the heartbreak, it all pooled into that one burning question: Who’s getting all of my residuals?

The pain was still so fresh. The breakup had left her in a space of limbo, caught between the memories of the love they had shared and the harsh reality of what they had become. “You said you were gonna be my peace / And if I’ma ride for you, you was gon’ ride for me,” Siren sang softly, feeling the sting of disappointment. She had believed in those promises. She had believed in him. But now, all that remained were questions and a void she wasn’t sure how to fill.

As the video finished uploading, Siren leaned back in her chair, exhaling slowly. She wasn’t sure if she would ever find closure. But maybe, just maybe, putting her feelings into her art into this challenge was a step in the right direction. Her mind raced with the possibilities of what might happen next. Would this video be the one to finally get her noticed? Would this viral moment bring something new into her life, something that could take her mind off the past? She didn’t know. But what she did know was that she was done living in the shadow of the relationship. The world didn’t need to know all the details of their heartbreak, but she couldn’t stay silent either.

Within hours, the video exploded on social media. Comments, likes, and shares flooded in, with fans and strangers alike praising her for her raw vulnerability. The lyrics resonated with so many who had felt the same sting of love lost, and Siren's name quickly spread across the internet. But with the fame came the inevitable, a ripple in the past that Siren wasn’t fully prepared for. Among the comments was one that stood out like a flare in the dark: “Zilla’s gotta see this...”

Then the tagging spree began. Several people were in her comments tagging Zilla. Siren’s heart skipped a beat. Zilla. Of course, he’d see it. He would have to. His name was everywhere now, linked to hers in a way that no one could ignore. She had known, deep down, that putting herself out there in such an intimate way would eventually drag him back into her orbit. But she hadn’t expected it to happen so quickly.

Just a few hours later, her phone buzzed with an incoming call. The name on the screen made her stomach drop. Zilla. She hesitated before answering, her thumb hovering over the screen for a moment longer than she intended.

“Hello?” Her voice was tentative, unsure of how to approach the conversation.

“Siren,” Zilla’s voice came through, low and measured. There was a strange tension in his tone, as though he had been holding something back. “We need to talk.”

Siren could feel the familiar knot of anxiety forming in her chest, but she knew she couldn’t avoid this conversation any longer. “Okay,” she said, her voice steady. “What about?”

“I just saw the video,” Zilla said. There was a pause, and she could almost hear the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him. “I need to pull up and talk to you. In person.”

Siren nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. She was overwhelmed by the wave of emotions that flooded through her. The past few months had been a blur of loneliness and confusion, but now, the possibility of closure or another painful chapter loomed before her.

“I’ll be here,” she said quietly.

The conversation ended, and Siren set her phone down, her mind racing. What would Zilla say? What did he want now, after everything that had happened? She wasn’t sure she was ready for whatever he had to say, but she knew it was coming. This moment, as inevitable as it felt, was a crossroads. She had poured her heart into the video, sharing her deepest emotions with the world, and now she had to face the consequences.

As she sat on her bed, staring out the window, the sun began to set. She could feel the weight of the past year pressing down on her, but for the first time in a long time, there was a small spark of hope.

Maybe, after all this time, she would finally get the closure she had been searching for.

Or maybe, she would find that she had moved on in ways she hadn’t even realized. Either way, the conversation with Zilla was coming and it would change everything.

The evening stretched before Siren like an uncertain horizon, each passing minute amplifying the anticipation and anxiety knotting her stomach. Her apartment, usually filled with the soft hum of her music and the rhythm of her thoughts, now felt unbearably quiet.

The air hung heavy with unspoken words, emotions she'd stuffed down for too long, waiting for this moment.

As much as she had poured herself into the "Residuals" Challenge, capturing her raw emotions and frustrations in front of the camera, it had been her way of releasing control. But now, as Zilla’s impending arrival loomed, she was back in a place where control seemed so elusive.

She glanced at the clock. It had been about an hour since the call. Zilla had said he'd pull up soon, but the time seemed to stretch impossibly. Every sound, every car passing outside, every creak of the floor seemed amplified in her mind. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this conversation would somehow define everything that had come before and everything that would follow.

Siren wasn’t sure what she expected from Zilla. There had been so many moments when she had imagined confronting him, laying bare all the hurt, the frustration, the confusion that had been festering since their breakup.

Yet, the reality of it all felt so much more complicated now that it was happening. It wasn’t just about their past, it was about how their present had evolved, how their paths had diverged, and whether there was any chance of bridging that gap.

Or maybe it was too late. Maybe the moment for healing had passed.

When the knock finally came at her door, her heart skipped. She stood up quickly, pushing away the swirling thoughts in her head, and walked towards the door with steady steps, though her pulse quickened with every beat.

She opened the door, and there he was. Zilla. Standing in the doorway, dressed casually in jeans and a hoodie. His eyes, usually full of life and mischief, were softer now. There was a tiredness in his gaze that she hadn’t noticed before. The confident swagger he once carried had been replaced by something more vulnerable, almost hesitant.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Siren…”

Her name, coming from his lips after so much time, had a strange weight to it. He wasn’t sure where to begin, and neither was she. They had both been living in this space between the past and the present, and neither of them knew how to navigate the tension.

Siren nodded silently, stepping aside to let him in. They both took a seat, the air between them thick with unspoken things.

“So,” Siren started, trying to sound casual, but her voice betrayed her uncertainty. “You wanted to talk?”

Zilla nodded slowly, his gaze flickering to the video playing on her screen in the corner of the room. The bright colors of the TikTok video felt like a stark contrast to the gravity of the moment. He took a deep breath. “I saw the video. It… It hit me harder than I thought it would.”

Siren watched him carefully, her arms crossed. She had prepared herself for this moment, but now that it was here, she realized how unprepared she was. His words hung in the air, waiting for her to respond. The pain she had been singing about in her challenge felt fresh, and now, hearing his voice again made it all come rushing back.

“Yeah,” Siren said quietly, the memories flooding back. “I guess it’s hard to ignore, huh? It’s kinda hard to hide what’s been happening inside of me. Guess I’ve been holding it all in for too long.” She paused, feeling the weight of her own words. “I don’t know. I wasn’t sure how it would feel, you know, putting that part of me out there for everyone to see.”

Zilla’s eyes softened as he listened to her. He seemed like he wanted to say something, but he hesitated as if the right words were just beyond his grasp. Finally, he spoke. “I didn’t want you to feel like you had to put it all out there. But I get it. I do. I guess I didn’t realize just how much I hurt you, Siren. I always thought you’d be okay. I thought... well, I guess I was selfish.”

Her chest tightened at his words, and she found herself fighting back the surge of emotion. He didn’t say those things back then, not when it mattered. The things he was saying now felt like they had arrived too late, and yet, she found herself softening, just a little. It wasn’t forgiveness, at least, not yet but there was a crack in the wall she’d built between them.

“You were always so busy,” Siren replied, her voice breaking as she looked away, unwilling to let him see how raw she felt. “I was always fighting for your attention, Zilla. You said you’d be there, but when I needed you, you weren’t. It was like I had to keep convincing you to love me.”

Zilla winced at the pain in her voice. He hadn’t known the depth of her loneliness, the way it had eaten away at her over time. “I didn’t mean to do that to you,” he said, his voice soft but filled with regret. “I was so caught up in myself, in my stuff, that I didn’t see how much you were hurting. I should’ve paid more attention. I should’ve listened when you needed me to.”

Siren nodded slowly, her eyes starting to gloss over. It was a mixture of anger and sadness, but also, strangely, relief. She had never heard him say these things to her before. He had always been too proud, too wrapped up in his world to acknowledge her pain. And now, he was sitting here, admitting to his mistakes. The admission didn’t take away the hurt, but it somehow made it more bearable.

“I don’t know if that’s enough, Zilla,” Siren said, her voice trembling. “I’m not saying I can’t forgive you, but... It’s just hard to believe in anything anymore. Everything felt like a lie. The promises we made. The love we had. It all started to fade, and I don’t know how to get it back.”

Zilla’s expression faltered. His shoulders slumped as if the weight of the truth had finally settled in. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t expect you to just forget everything that happened,” he said, his voice sincere. “But I don’t want us to end like this. Not with you feeling like that.”

For the first time in a long while, Siren let herself look at him fully. She saw the sincerity in his eyes, the guilt, the longing for resolution. And yet, deep down, she knew that even if they could resolve things between them, it didn’t mean they could ever go back to what they once were.

“We’ve both changed, Zilla,” she said softly. “And I’m not sure we’re the same people we were when we started this. I don’t know if we can go back to being... us.”

Zilla didn’t answer right away. He simply nodded, as though he understood. They both knew the truth now: the relationship, as they had known it, was over. What remained was the aftermath, the residuals of their time together, scattered memories and feelings that still had to be processed and dealt with. The viral moment had dragged them both back to the point of confrontation, but it was also an opportunity to lay their past to rest.

“I guess it’s time to let go,” Siren said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m not going to pretend it doesn’t hurt.”

Zilla sat in silence for a moment, the weight of everything hanging in the air between them. Finally, he spoke, his voice quiet but resolute. “I never wanted to hurt you, Siren. And I’ll never forget what we had. But I think... I think it’s time for us both to move on.”

Siren nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. She didn’t know what her future held, but for the first time in a long time, she felt like she could breathe. The conversation, painful as it was, had given her the clarity she had been searching for. Zilla had his path to follow, and so did she. And while the residuals of their love might always linger, she could finally start to release them. One step at a time.

As Zilla stood to leave, he paused at the door, looking back at her one last time. “Take care of yourself, Siren,” he said quietly.

She met his gaze, her voice steady despite the ache in her chest. “You too.”

Watching a big budget show within the first 90 days doesn’t make a difference to a credited writer’s bank balance (I’ll get to the exception in a sec). Watching thereafter is also not tied to a “payment per view”, but simply to a formula per year the show gets streamed. You can find this more neatly explained on the WGA website:

Streamers usually also don’t take a show/old episodes off their platform after 90 days or a year just because viewer numbers naturally fall with time (it’s usually a pre-negotiated license period of 3+years), although that sometimes happens (if you have a look through Amazon’s and Netflix’s catalogue, you’ll find lots of older shows on there that probably hardly anyone watches).

So whether people stream or not usually matters most when it comes to renewals and cancellations, because that’s where a streamer makes or loses money (production costs vs overall new subscriptions etc).

For a show that’s finishing or already cancelled, the implications are far less material. And the first 90 days do not matter at all in this context (they only matter for a renewal, but in terms of residuals, they’re basically out of the equation).

This obviously doesn’t mean that a boycott can’t be a consideration for many other reasons. But if it is financial compensation via residuals that’s the main ick, it really doesn’t matter as much as people think.

This isn’t to tell people to do one thing over the other, but I see so much misinformation about the basic nuts and bolts of this on a daily basis that I think it’s maybe worth looking into it a bit more closely for many people.

What About Libraries?

As a little addendum (because that’s also something people frequently misunderstand): Not every country has a PLR scheme that remunerates writers for library loans. And the ones that do have a cap. So if you are worried about giving a writer royalties if you borrow their books from a library, first have a look if your country actually has a PLR scheme, and how it operates (you can do this here). As examples:

The UK has a PLR scheme, so secondhand is generally preferable over libraries because authors get royalties up to a cap (which, generally speaking, is a good thing, but it’s obviously worth considering if the author is a vile human being). It also needs to be said though that they, or their estate, need to be a resident or have a principal home in the EEA to qualify, but that just as an aside.

The US don’t have a PLR scheme, so the author gets diddly squat per loan.