Chapter Text
He was her Romeo; she was his Juliet.
Tragic, she knows.
They should’ve worked together. It was an equation that made sense when she repeated it over and over again inside her head—Riley plus Lucas equals love, love, love. But then, when reflected in real life, their relationship was never that simple.
They were too similar. Lucas’s little habits that she liked eventually shifted into annoying traits, irking her to no end. Together they fought and bickered and bickered, until the only solution to their sad equation was to break up.
So now, two weeks later, she sits alone on a couch at a party, red solo cup in hand, watching the people all around her move by in a blur. She’s upset over the breakup, sure. But even she has to admit that they were never meant to be romantic, and she hates herself for convincing herself otherwise.
No more men on pedestals for her; she’ll drink to that.
“No, Smackle, what I’m simply saying is that you can’t quantify—”
Science’s “it” couple enters the room, debating whatever topic pops into their minds as per usual. Farkle’s in heated debate with his girlfriend, but then he catches sight of Riley alone on the couch, cup of spiked punch in hand, and he melts. He’s always been a sucker for her, but most importantly, he’s her friend and he’s there for her, always and forever.
“You were saying? I’d like to say I won at this point, but really you’re not giving me much of a fight here, Minkus,” Smackle prods at him, but he nudges her with his shoulder instead.
“I’m gonna go sit with Riley for a bit. Is that okay?”
Her eyebrows scrunch together as Riley watches her glance over to the couch.
“You go ahead and go. I’ll be waiting in the kitchen, getting some snacks.”
Farkle watches Isadora disappear before plopping down on the couch beside Riley, a sympathetic look on his face.
“You alright?” he asks her. She hates it—she doesn’t want his pity, but at the same time, she doesn’t want to be alone. It’s a confusing mess of emotions; why does she have to deal with it?
“I guess. Depends on your definition of ‘alright’,” she says, forcing a laugh. He doesn’t join in, just watches her with concern, his knee knocking into hers.
“C’mon, Riley. Talk to me—I know it’s been a couple weeks.”
She really doesn’t want to, but his azure eyes gaze at her intensely and she cracks under the pressure.
“It’s just . . . I dunno . . . upsetting? I know that sounds dumb, of course it’s upsetting, but it’s not upsetting that we don’t love each other. It’s just upsetting to me that I don’t have love right, and that something that I once thought was so perfect crumbled beneath me, shattering my ideas and how I thought the world was. Love should be a clear scientific formula, shouldn’t it?”
“Quit getting inside my head, Riley Matthews,” he chuckles, a grin splaying across his face, “If it was, don’t you think I’d have it down by now? There may be a chemical formula to explain it, but there’s no real way to explain love; it’s just something you find on your own.”
Her brown eyes snap up to his, focusing entirely on him.
“Have you found love, Farkle?”
It’s a test. He knows it’s a test, but it makes him uncomfortable to even consider an answer at the moment.
“Uhm,” he squirms in his seat, leg bobbing up and down, “I think so?”
Riley cocks her head at the comment.
“You think so?”
Farkle’s mouth twists to the side with uncertainty but he continues, nodding his head.
“Yeah, I think so. I mean, from what I’ve gathered, love can be about different things. Those different things you find in the people around you that make you want to stay near them, that pull you towards them like metal towards a magnet. Sometimes you look into someone’s eyes and you can see the universe, and your body reacts in numerous ways—your pulse quickens, your heart bounds within your chest, your hands go clammy. This person stuns you just by existing, and you couldn’t possibly think about being anywhere else in the world but right beside them.”
Staring into his eyes, the room around her fades. Riley’s not sure if it’s the buzz from the booze finally setting in or what, but her head feels dizzy. Her mouth goes dry and she can only focus on him and only him.
“Whoa mama, that’s one heck of a way to look at it,” she says, her free hand gripping onto the velvet fabric of the couch. Farkle guides her hand away from the edge of the cushion gently, however, tossing it between his own for a moment before squeezing it reassuringly.
“You’ll find your definition of love, Riley. I know you will. You just have to give it time—be yourself for a bit; you just got out of a relationship. You’ll know your spark when it comes to you. It tends to sneak up on you when you least expect it.”
The warmth of his hand soothes her, his proximity easing her from her anxious state. His eyes never leave her, and when her throat begins to close in on her, she finally understands something for once in her teenage life.
She doesn’t need time to herself before finding her spark. Her spark was always right in front of her, waiting for her to bring the kindling to start a blazing fire all of their own. Riley’s spent so much time pent up on Lucas Friar and his southern, gentlemanly charm that she was blinded to the rest of her world.
It was never Lucas Friar. It was always Farkle Minkus.
She’s in love with Farkle Minkus, and the revelation simultaneously thrills her and frightens her all the same.
“Farkle—” she begins, but she’s soon cut off by Smackle walking back into the room.
“Sorry to interrupt you two, but Farkle, there’s an important video being livestreamed right now online of a rover on Mars. I assumed you might be interested in watching that?”
Farkle’s eyes light up brighter than a Christmas tree and he rises to his feet almost immediately.
“Ha! That’s incredible!” he exclaims, grinning ear to ear. Riley can’t help but smile with him, too.
“Shall we?” Smackle asks him, holding out her arm. Farkle’s eyes flash between Riley and Isadora, indecision plain on his face.
“Go for it, Farkle. You’ve gotta watch livestreamed footage of a rover on Mars,” Riley tells him, giving him the go ahead. He nods, waving quickly before linking arms with Smackle, the two of them disappearing out of the front door.
Riley sips at her drink, once again alone on the couch with her thoughts, her heart aching in an entirely different way than when she arrived at the party in the first place.
//
Science is increasingly becoming Riley’s least favorite subject, because she can’t seem to avoid the things that give her anxiety, and one of the number one things that is making her anxious happens to be in that class. And then her teacher announces a partner project, and she gets the short end of the stick.
They’re partners, of course they’re partners. Riley can’t escape his presence for a day in her life.
“You have the charts and spreadsheets made, right?” Farkle asks her while setting up his telescope in the middle of the grassy part of the park. Although she’s otherwise distracted by her own thoughts, she still manages to nod in response.
“Yeah, right here,” she tells him, reaching into the army-issue tote bag hanging from her shoulder. She retrieves the array of papers and passes them to him, their skin meeting briefly during the exchange. Warmth from contact flares up her hands and arm, goose pimples rising in its wake.
Riley wonders to herself if he ever feels the same thing.
“So if we’re lucky, we might be able to see somewhat of a view of Pluto tonight. Nothing too special, but it’s exciting, right, Riley?” he smirks, watching her face for her reaction. Her face softens, eyes crinkling when she smiles in response.
“Of course it’s exciting, Farkle. It’s Pluto; you know I love Pluto.”
Farkle waves her over to stand next to him by the telescope and she obliges, appearing by his side at once. As he continues to fix it, Riley observes the subtle way in which the light from the moon above allows her to see the freckles delicately painted upon his cheeks. She’d like to trace the pattern, she thinks, count each one and admire how she could learn just as much astronomy from his skin as the sky above them, but then she silently puts that thought to rest. Her job isn’t to ogle Farkle, it’s to get this project done and over with so she can continue to pretend that her feelings for him are nonexistent.
“Alright!” Farkle exclaims suddenly, breaking her from her reverie.
“What is it?” Riley asks.
“Pluto is up there, for sure. Wanna see?”
She chuckles and nods her head, scooting in closer to look through the telescope. He gives her space to crouch down and look, and she leans in to press her eye to the glass.
“It’s just a speck,” she announces flatly, disappointed. She glances back over at Farkle who offers her his best attempt at a reassuring smile.
“I know, but I figured you’d like to see that speck. If you look closely, you can see another tiny speck next to it. That’s one of Pluto’s moons, Charon.”
Riley peers back in through the telescope, looking back at her tiny spec of a planet, and after careful speculation she sees the just-as-tiny moon floating beside it. Even though both are as small as can be, she can’t help but feel that excitement she had before bubble back up inside her like a third grader’s papier-mâché volcano project.
“It’s such an amazing little speck,” she croons in awe, still watching Pluto even though it’ll remain a speck in the sky no matter how long she looks at it. A hand rests on her shoulder, Farkle’s hand, his fingertips brushing against the nape of her neck.
“Wanna catalogue it? I’m sure our teacher would be more than happy to see us add a little extra into our project.”
Riley removes herself from the telescope, finding herself only an inch away from Farkle’s face. Even in the dark he’s bright as ever, the stormy hue of his eyes deepening and pulling her in, tempting to drown her.
“Uhm,” she answers, swallowing hard, “Sure.”
Although her lips tell him that she’s going to move, her body makes no motion to leave any time soon. Riley curses silently in her mind, trying to will her rooted feet to shift away, to put space between them before it’s too late, but then she recognizes Farkle’s paralyzed in his spot, as well. The grin he once held has since washed away, instead a serious expression on his face, an unreadable one. His hand still lingers on her neck, not daring to budge one bit.
“Riley,” he says her name, barely above a whisper, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down his throat.
“Yes?” she asks, waiting patiently for him to make the next move.
“I don’t . . . what is this? What are we doing?”
This is it, Riley realizes. This is her time to tell him how she feels, and if she doesn’t go for it now, she may never have the chance again.
“I love you, Farkle,” she breathes, feeling the weight of her secret being lifted off her shoulders.
“And I love you, too, Riley,” he whispers back. Riley shakes her head.
“No, not just like that, Farkle. I’m in love with you. I want to be with you.” She pauses for a moment, considering something before telling him, “I want to kiss you.”
His fingers clench against her neck as she inches towards him, her lips hovering next to his. Right as she tries to close the gap between them, she feels his hand push her into place, stopping her.
“I can’t, Riley,” he whispers, his eyes drifting to the side, failing to meet hers. “Not that I haven’t thought about this before, but I’m with Smackle now, and I really like her. I didn’t start dating her because you had moved on and I needed a replacement. I’m dating her because I truly like her, and that’s not gonna change anytime soon.”
“That’s . . . that’s okay, Farkle. I get it. I lost my chance, and you’ve moved on.”
Riley sighs, but she can’t help the tear that falls from her face. Farkle watches her with pain in his eyes, his thumb reaching up to wipe away her tear. She shies away from his touch, the space between them growing into a canyon of distance.
“Don’t cry, Riley. I don’t want to make you cry; don’t cry over something stupid like me,” he says, his voice wavering.
“No, don’t worry. It’s completely fine, Farkle. I’m just really happy for you, that’s all. You’ve got such a wonderful person, and she really does love every bit of you. I’m sorry I tried to take that away from you. But that’s okay, because we’re friends, and friends can get through this kind of thing. You take it easy, alright, Farkle?”
Her chest heaves up and down sporadically from the wave of sobs she’s trying desperately to suppress, her legs trembling as she backs away from him. His eyes never leave hers the entire time she falls apart, and she hates him for it.
Because even when he won’t accept her love, he still manages to be a kind and supportive friend, and Riley can’t take it.
“Riley, please,” he begs her, but she shakes her head.
“No, Farkle. Stop it. Just let me go, okay? I’ll be fine. Just let me go,” she pleads back. He makes no motion to stop her from running, and when her feet hit the pavement once again, the only sounds that she hears are of the bustling city around her.