* all that glitters 𝒊𝒔 𝒈𝒐𝒍𝒅

INTRO  ★  STATS  ★  WCS  ★  TIMELINE  ★  PINTEREST

– “EW, NEITHER,” BLAIR LAUGHS, pushing against his chest. “ you should know me better than that. though if you were planning to finally confess your love, could you save it until i’ve had a few more drinks ? ” she asks, teasing. the time for confessions has passed, it’s been a long time since she told him to come find her once he had his head sorted out. she’s packed her bag by now ; no more waiting around. 

“ besides, my honesty isn’t a pep talk. i’m not going to get all … sentimental on you, but i think you’ve always known what i think about that stuff since we were kids writing stupid campfire songs, ” she says, arms draped loosely over his shoulders. it’s no secret to her that he’s still unsure of himself, otherwise he wouldn’t still be hanging around woodstock. “ i don’t know. maybe i just wanted to point it out one last time before i’m not here to hold you accountable. ” 

she’s not really a goodbye person, and she can’t quite look him in the eye, eyes resting on the line of his jaw. she doesn’t want to see his reaction – she doesn’t know what scares her more, the idea that he wouldn’t care or the idea that he would. “ i’m leaving. tomorrow. ” 

     HE LETS OUT AN OFFENDED scoff at her repulsion, quickly followed by a matching fit of laughter and a playfully tightened hold as she attempts to push away. ❝ no promises ! ❞ he practically sings. ❝ i mean, unless you’re wanting a repeat of every other time i’ve told you things after a few too many. ❞ not that he’s actually planning on saying anything, for both selfish reasons and not. for one thing, he does know blair better than that, and he also knows that his best chance at maintaining some kind of a positive relationship with her is to not upset this hot and cold, love / hate balance they’ve struck. they can never really go back to what they had before, but for trip, this is close enough. dancing together, laughing together— he doesn’t feel the need to ask her for more than that. right now, at least, he’s content.

     of course, the moment he thinks that is the moment it has to change.

     ❝ um, so much for not getting sentimental. and ominous much ? ❞ he tries to keep up an air of levity despite the sudden mood change and his mounting confusion, but as her eyes drop, his stomach follows. just as he’s about to ask blair what the hell she’s talking about, she cuts him off with the answer. it nearly knocks the wind out of him. ❝ oh. ❞

     trip’s lived in a woodstock without blair shapiro before, and he’s seen a blair shapiro without woodstock. the concept isn’t anything new to him— the opposite, really. it’s an inevitability, and one he welcomes. for all the secrets he learned that night, trip never needed a cracked mask in los angeles to know that blair never belonged in any of the places she’d been ; he’s known that for as long as he’s known her. birds of a feather and all that, like recognizing like. he recognized this facet of her like he recognized a mirror, sitting across from her in a shitty garage, blue eyes on blue - grey, that same conspiratorial twinkle, the feeling of displacement, of non - belonging, of being too big, too loud, too bold, too— too. 

     he lifts his gaze to stare over her head, takes in the smiling faces of their perfectly boring friends in their perfectly boring town, too small for either of them, and he knows that the only thing sadder than him losing blair would be blair losing herself.

– BLAIR TAKES THE OPPORTUNITY TO AVERT HER GAZE, can feel herself on the verge of blushing under the intensity of his eye contact and she needs to temper that emotion, control herself. she uses the moment to seek out max and kem on the dance floor, giddy and free and completely unguarded around one another. she can’t remember the last time she didn’t feel spitefully jealous when seeing someone else grin like that. confidence fills her chest again. “ if anyone is, ” she agrees, gaze drifting back to trip’s eyes “ they’re just about the last thing in this world i believe in. ” 

she pauses to smile before she echoes : “ just about.” she’s sure he’ll know what she means – that through everything, all of his highs and lows, she’s never stopped believing in him and his dreams. sometimes it’s even hard to distinguish between wanting him and wanting more for him.

     JUST ABOUT. TRIP SUCKS IN a breath at that, a jolt of electricity shooting from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. blair’s belief in him has never failed to set him alight like a live wire, raising goosebumps on his skin and returning the stars to his eyes with just so much as a smile and a handful of syllables. but like electricity, it stings too. he gives her hand a gentle squeeze, lifting it up to guide her into a slow spin. he uses that second to compose himself, schooling the look on his face before it can betray the hint of melancholy he feels under the surface. the last thing he wants to do is disappoint her ; she doesn’t need to see that he still has doubts.

“—What?” Trip catches him a little off guard. “What’s that for?” he wonders. Regardless of whatever it’s for, Chase’s not great with words, he’ll probably just end up saying the most basic things known to man. In a way, it is a momentous day, things are okay again, everything was solved and fixed and they can all breathe again, and they’re all gathered together for what may be the last time for a wedding. It’s been a tornado of events, and Chase never thought any of them would make it here, especially him. “Don’t tell me you haven’t written your speech and you want help.”

     THIS  IS  THE  BEST  DAY  OF  HER  LIFE  and  max  is  so  lucky  to  be  next  to  trip  right  now,  the  only  person  who  seems  able  to  get  through  her  cloudy  mind  —  well,  she  can  think  of  one  more,  but  he’s  not  here.  most  other  girls  her  age  have  a  dad  to  walk  them  down  the  aisle.  it  kills  her  to  think  her  own  dad  is  not  here  to  do  just  that.  she  knows  he  would’ve  loved  kem,  would’ve  loved  trip,  would’ve  loved  the  entire  wedding  and  everything  to  come.  life  is  so  unfair.

     max  wills  herself  to  not  cry,  this  is  the  best  day  of  her  life,  and  turns  to  trip.  her  mind  is  racing:  she’s  never  been  so  sure  about  someone  in  her  life,  but  between  everything  that  happened  with  christian  and  reyna  way  back  when  she  still  has  scars.  still,  she  can’t  bring  herself  to  say  any  of  those  things.  «  what  if  he,  like,  runs  ?  »  max  blurts  out  suddenly  instead.  «  like,  i  know  he  won’t,  but  he  could,  right  ?  like,  i  know  he  won’t.  but  there’s  always  the  possibility  ?  »  maybe  she’s  a  little  nervous.

     IT'S RARE MOMENTS LIKE THIS that make him thankful for how small and sleepy his hometown is. the roads on the outskirts of town rarely see much traffic, which means trip's is essentially the only car on the road right now. he can safely put it in park at a stop sign without having to worry about anyone getting upset about it, and that's exactly what he does. afterwards, he props his arm against the back of his seat and turns his full attention towards max. ❝ he won't. the guy's obsessed with you, ❞ trip states matter - of - factly, and boy is it ever. ❝ i'm pretty sure he would go nuts if he had to spend more than five minutes not being able to talk about you. ❞ this is said with a bit more humor, and as he reaches over to tuck a flyaway strand back into the rest of max's hair, he quirks a brow at her as if to say 'tell me i'm wrong'. he knows he's not, and he knows she knows he's not. no, whatever this is, trip knows it's not about kem. not really. 

🎸

trip’s reaction is exactly what marty expects it to be and it’s a welcome thing, after everything that’s been blindsiding them the last couple of months. marty matches trip’s expression, grin on their lips. when he finally speaks, all they can do is shake their head and tsk tsk tsk at him — he’s right, of course, but to tell him that would be regrettable. “well, clearly,” she starts, “your memory is very shitty, trippy.” she nudges him, just enough to maybe tilt him out of balance. “we could. do you have a skirt somewhere in the back? we’re already using balloons, i am owed a mini skirt,” marty teases. 

     ❝ AND CLEARLY YOU ARE JUST a sore loser, ❞ trip retorts, catching himself on the beam when marty's little nudge does, in fact, knock him off balance. even with all the things that have changed between them, both as individuals and as a duo, it's comforting to know some things are still exactly the same. marty's still a menace, he's still clumsy, and they're still the best of friends. if the tour, a mistimed romance, and his multitude of small fuck - ups wasn't enough to change that, trip doesn’t think anything ever will. he likes that thought.

– “OH, I KNOW THEY DON’T,” BLAIR CONFIRMS. “ considering i asked max to please not make me do that. ” her eyes rest on the gentle curve of his smile for a beat, and soon she’s biting back one of her own. then she shrugs. “ but, you know me … ” he does, after all. “ i changed my mind. ” she grabs his hand, palm fitting into his as she tugs him out toward the dance floor – he’s already said yes, anyhow, no takebacks now. there are so many times they’ve allowed each other to slip through their fingers but blair is putting her foot down ; not tonight.“ come on, ” she says, beckoning him closer. 

     GOD, IT’S SUCH A PERFECTLY blair - like thing to say —— a prime example of that turnabout, force of nature, rollercoaster type beat she embodies so well and he’s grown so accustomed to. ❝ fair enough, ❞ he yields with a soft bubble of a laugh, allowing her to lead him away with only a second of playful foot dragging. they come to a stop somewhere just off - center of the floor, and it’s only then that trip actually acknowledges the song that’s playing. really, does this dj know anything other than slow songs ? it’s not like he’s nervous. his free hand isn’t shaking or anything when it finds blair’s waist. even around her, trip’s capability for being anything other than recklessly confident is fairly low. but, at the same time, he doesn’t really believe that she simply ‘ changed her mind ’ just like that, and it’s been a while since they were this close ...

     alright, yeah. maybe he’s a little nervous. but only the teensiest bit.

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄: woodacre barn, wedding reception 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒: closed to @tripfm​

“you don’t happen to have a basketball somewhere, do you?” marty asks as they come up from behind trip, glass in hand, lips pressed together into a smile. marty doesn’t know if it’s the fact it’s a wedding or just her need to always give her mind something to think of that prompts her to say an idea that is definitely not going to happen. “feels like a good time for a rematch since you definitely cheated last time.”

     MAX HAS BEEN IN TRIP’S car a lot over the years, joined him on errand runs and ice cream trips, the occasional mental breakdown. he still remembers swapping stories with her here 8 months ago, and how she had told him that no one was jumping to take her on any dates after the whole christian debacle. now, she’s sitting in his car in a wedding dress with a guy waiting to pledge himself to her at the guppy pond. suddenly, 8 months feels like a lifetime ago.

     WITH THE MYSTERY OF JERRY’S disappearance solved, a murderer back behind bars, and an oppressive court case finally over with, it's starting to feel like the end of a movie. there’s a palpable sense of finality in the air, relief and anticipation in equal measure, and as he wanders through the barn - turned - reception - hall, trip can't shake the feeling that this is probably the last time the remaining employees of volume records will all be in the same room together. he plans to make the most of it, immortalize it, for if this truly is the end of a movie, they’re going to need something to segue into the where are they now sequence.

STARTER FOR TRIP. ( @tripfm​ )

– SHE DOESN’T REALLY WANT TO DO IT, but the whole point of leaving is about tackling stuff you’re scared of, right ? so, she finishes her drink and places her glass back on the bar. pleasant, warm buzz courses through her when she comes up behind him to tug the arm of his suit. “ feel like dancing ? ” 

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝟎𝟎𝟖: 𝐖𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐒

Swatting at his face to try and push him away, eyes immediately followed, looking at him with a stare that was borderline murderous. Trip was one of the people she actually liked around here, and she knew him outside of this strange little bubble that was Woodstock… but even then, cutting off her me-time? Inexcusable. “Sorry, conversations are closed. Come back later.”

he’s  pretty  sure  he’s  in  for  a  relatively  clear  day.  he’s  not  scheduled  for  a  shift  in  records  or  fabric,  a  rare  occurrence  in  and  of  itself.  his  morning’s  mostly  been  occupied  by  a  lie  in,  shared  pancake  breakfast  and  returning  to  his  room  to  consider  poking  at  one  or  two  of  the  half  finished  projects  laying  around.  he  hasn’t  worked  himself  up  to  doing  anything  yet  when  a  familiar  sound  draws  attention;  really  an  assortment  of  them.  he’s  confident  he  hasn’t  forgotten  plans  with  his  best  friend,  even  more  confident  that  if  he  had  forgotten  them  trip  wouldn’t  have  remembered  either.  still,  they’ve  never  required  a  heads  up  before,  and  he’s  on  his  way  out  the  door  without  more  than  a  minute  of  curiosity.

it’s  followed  by  a  quick  upturn  in  amusement,  kc  lingering  a  little  ways  from  the  car.  it  takes  him  until  it’s  been  sung  -  out  to  realize  what  it’s  about,  sparks  laugh  even  if  kc  had  forgotten  that  trip  forgot.  he  waits  until  the  song’s  teetered  out  before  giving  an  impressed  whistle,  rounding  to  the  passenger  side.  he  pulls  the  door  close  behind  him  with  a  snort,  ❛   you  really  need,  like,  a  calendar.   ❜

     IF KC TURNED RIGHT AROUND and walked back into the apartment, trip wouldn't even blame him. were their roles reversed, it's exactly what he would do. fortunately, kc isn't anything like trip. they may share the same sunny disposition and aversion to overly serious conversation, but trip's always been made of more jagged edges than kc. things stick for him, issues snag, whereas the same issues seem to roll off of kc's back like water. sure, maybe he should give trip the middle finger and go — hell, it'd probably be the only thing to keep him from making the same mistake next year — but he won't, and trip knows he won't, otherwise he wouldn’t even be here ; he's not exactly in the habit of apologizing for things he doesn’t expect to be forgiven for.

     SERA SETS HER COKE DOWN ON THE TABLE. she supposes this would have come up eventually, but it is weird to just have to talk about walking into the store being a mess. luckily, none of them were there when it happened. “yeah, it was definitely weird.” weird probably isn’t the way most people would describe it, but sera’s surprisingly not too shaken up by it. she just feels like this store is in too deep with something she doesn’t know. his words make her laugh, and she reaches for another fry off her plate. “i’m always on my toes, that’s for sure,” she comments before taking a small bite. “definitely not what i would have expected working at a record store.”

         nisa doen’t have to ask where the question comes from (though the stack of magazines he’s toting would answer it if she did), nodding at him once to show she’s listening for options. he continues, and while he’s distracted by his task of reading them out, nisa pushes away from the counter, happy to take the opportunity to switch out violent femmes for mariah. “b,” she responds as she spins back around, a grin on her lips. “and lemme guess, judging by your tone, you’re scoping out the cute boys?” she shakes her head in mock disapproval. “slut.”

     AS THE BRIDGE OF GONE daddy gone is cut off and quickly replaced by the soulful opening of mariah’s honey, the corner of trip’s mouth subconsciously twitches upward. it’s a small thing to make note of — no more significant or surprising than nisa’s quiz answer — but her being a butterfly girl over, say, daydream still feels noteworthy nonetheless. maybe he’s reading into it too much, but at least it keeps him from complaining that she stole the stereo long enough for her to give him something else to whine about.