The golden hour spills across the floor like it's been poured from a sleepy teacup. Fairy lights, still faintly glowing from the night before, blink lazily above three very distinct zones of chaos:
Inaya's side — books with dog-eared pages scattered like confetti, sticky notes everywhere, a boba plush looking like it's been cried into for emotional support.
Kavya's side — a little less messy, a little more aesthetic. Journals stacked neatly, skincare products lined like soldiers.
Arnav's side — clean chaos. Headphones. Charging cables. A motivational poster that says "Get Your Shit Together" ironically, because he never does.
In the middle of all this storm?
A sun-drenched mattress on the floor, where Inaya lies sprawled across Rabin, her head rising and falling with his breath.
Rabin's fingers lazily trace invisible shapes on the fabric of her kurti. A sleepy smile tugs at his lips — the rare kind, reserved only for the mornings when he wakes up and realizes she's still here.
"We're disgusting," Inaya said her voice muffled into his chest
"Speak for yourself. I am sleep-deprived and undercaffeinated." Rabin said his voice raspy
"...But also in love?" Inaya smirked
"Disgustingly." Rabin smiled his eyes still closed
They don't move. Just exist. In that hush between the world and the alarm clock.
Then —
Door creaks.
Kavya walks in balancing a tray with four mugs of chai, a messy bun secured with two pens, looking suspiciously too awake.
"I see the lovebirds are playing corpse again." Kavya grinned
"Chai?" Inaya asked lifting her head to look at the mugs
"Four cups. One for you. One for turtleneck Romeo. One for Arnav who's definitely snoring through life. And one for me, obviously. I brewed it with my rage and three crushed deadlines."
"Tell your rage thank you." Rabin groaned
Suddenly, the door swings again. Arnav stumbles in, hoodie lopsided, one sock on, rubbing his face with a dramatic sigh.
"Why is it that every morning in this house feels like we've just returned from war?" Arnav asked sleepily
"Because some of us have emotional trauma and others sleep like we've been exorcised." Kavya answered
"Is that… cardamom?" Arnav asked sniffling the air
"Chai is religion," Inaya mumbled her eyes still shut
Cue another knock.
Ava and Hideya peek in — Ava with toast hanging from her mouth and Hideya holding two mismatched mugs and looking like he woke up in the middle of a dream and never really left it.
"We heard peace. We brought snacks." Ava grinned
"You're alive. Good. I was about to start planning your funeral with origami flowers." Hideya said to Rabhin
Everyone laughs.
The floor becomes the breakfast battlefield. They gather in a lopsided circle: chai mugs, toast, biscuit crumbs, tangled limbs, sleepy faces, and that strange glow of post-storm stillness.
"To love, friendship, and surviving emotional breakdowns like sexy, chaotic champions." Arnav raised his cup
"And to BinAya not making out before noon."
"Too late." Rabin blushed
"Traitor." Inaya laughed
"If y'all start flirting again I'm putting my headphones in and blasting sad J-pop." Hideya mock-gagged
They laugh.
They toast.
And somewhere between the chai and the teasing, between the laughter and lingering stares, something gentle blooms.
This is peace. This is healing.
This is what it feels like to have people finally — and poetry — to come home to. 🫶
Washington Square Park. Late afternoon. The sky is the kind of poetic blue Rabin would compare to Inaya's eyes if he were ever brave enough to say that out loud. Food trucks, guitar music, couples picnicking. It's the perfect level of too aesthetic to be real.
"I told you we should've made a plan," Kavya said already holding three reusable shopping bags
"This is the plan. It's called suffering." Arnav walked behind struggling to carry Ava's iced coffee, Hideya's sandwich, and a regret-filled soul):
"I'm here for the vibes and mango kulfi." Inaya said adjusting his outfir
"You said that last time and then cried over a squirrel fight." Ava deadpanned
"Didn't she name one of them Arnav?" Rabin whispered to Hideya
"And the other one 'Emotional Stability.' Neither survived." Hideya whispered back
"Let's find a spot. Preferably one where BinAya doesn't start making heart eyes while we're trying to eat." Ava grinned
"Excuse you. We only make heart eyes after 6 PM." Inaya said mock - offended
"Time zones vary." Rabin smiled softly
Everyone groaned in best-friendship harmony.
They settle under a tree.
"Okay, real question: who would survive if we were all stuck in a zombie apocalypse?" Ava asked
"Me. I'd become friends with the zombies. Trauma bonding." Inaya giggled
"I'd probably fold them an origami crane," Rabin said proudly
"Please. I am the apocalypse." Hideya announced
"I'd be the one starting the outbreak just to prove a point," Kavya smirked
"I'd die tripping over my own shoelace. Let's be honest." Arnav sighed
They all laugh. Loud, open, real.
The day after the vacation ended, Students are scattered like emotionally charged paperweights across every table.
Laptops hum. Coffee cups multiply. The air smells like ambition and mild breakdowns.
Ava was sprawled across a bean bag chair with her third iced latte.
"You could always become a motivational speaker for emotionally unstable students. You already look like a cautionary tale and a Pinterest quote at the same time." Ava suggested
"I'm going to ignore that because I haven't had caffeine yet." Inaya said while typing
"Didn't your Lit professor want to recommend you for that summer writing program in London?" Kavya gently nudged Inaya
"Yeah… I haven't told Rabin yet." Inaya paused before muttering
"Ooooof. Secrets and Sleepless Nights, Season 3 begins." Ava said her eyes going wide
"Why haven't you told him?"
"I don't know. What if he thinks I'm choosing a dream over… us?" Inaya shrugs
"Girl, if your man can't handle you writing poetry in a foggy London attic for a summer, he's not the one."
"He's scared of losing people. I don't want to make him feel abandoned." Inaya said softly
"If one more professor asks me about my five-year plan, I'm going to future-punch someone." Arnav dramatically flopping into his chair
"You don't even have a five-minute plan." Hideya deadpanned
"Exactly." Arnav nodded solemenly
Rabin is quiet, staring at his screen like it just texted him something emotionally compromising.
"I got shortlisted," Rabin mumbled
"For…?"
"Tokyo Summer Architecture Fellowship," Rabin answered
"Bro! That's huge!" Arnav perked up
"That's your dream." Hideya smiled
"Three months. Tokyo. Starting in June." Rabin still started at the screen
"And you're scared of hurting her by leaving." Hideya completed his sentence
"I'm scared of losing what we just started rebuilding."
"She loves you, man. She didn't fall for the guy who stayed. She fell for the guy who wrote his heart out across oceans." Arnav said sipping chai thoughtfully
"She's strong enough to love you while chasing her dreams. You gotta trust she'll be strong enough to let you do the same." Hideya said calmly
"I don't want us to become a pause button." Rabin whispers
"Then don't press it. Evolve. Together."
The city below hums like it's asleep with one eye open. Neon reflections shimmer on the windows of distant buildings. A soft breeze stirs the windchimes someone once hung on the rooftop antenna.
The camera pans up — Inaya and Rabin are sitting side by side, legs dangling off the edge, silence stretching between them like a familiar old sweater.
Rabin tosses a pebble off the edge. It disappears into the dark.
"My professor wants to recommend me for that summer writing program in London." Inaya said her voice quiet
Rabin's shoulders tense, the pebble long gone. He doesn't look at her.
"I got the Tokyo fellowship." Rabin said softly
Inaya turns. Caught off guard. But something in her already knew.
"Rabin…" Inaya said looking up at him
"I haven't said yes."
"Why?" Inaya blinked
A beat.
"Because I finally have something that makes me want to stay." Rabin's voice cracked
Inaya's eyes fill, but she doesn't look away. She places a hand over his.
"You can want both. Me and your dreams. I need you to choose both."
"What if we break again?"
"Then we build again. That's what people who love each other do." Inaya said gently
A gust of wind rushes by. Loose strands of her hair whip across her face. Rabin tucks one behind her ear — an instinct now.
"If we're chasing dreams... can we still keep chasing each other?"
"I think we're the dream, Rabin." Inaya teared up with a smile
Rabin finally lets out the breath he's been holding since he got the email. His hand tightens around hers.
"Then let's chase it all. Letters. Distance. Time zones. Paper cranes and plane tickets."
"Who knew two emotional disasters would figure it out?" Inaya laughs softly
"We're still disasters. We just have matching chaos now." Rabin smiled
They lean into each other — foreheads touching, heartbeats syncing like they're finding the rhythm again.
The camera pans out slowly — the city still alive below them, but this rooftop?
This rooftop is where two people finally realize that love doesn't mean staying.
It means returning.
Every. Single. Time.
The gang's gathered at their usual table. Half-eaten croissants. Open planners. Scribbled notes about "existential crises in 12-point font."
"CHECK. THE. GROUP. CHAT. RIGHT. NOW. BINAYA." Arnav who was scrolling on his phone, suddenly screamed
"Arnav I swear if this is another meme—" Inaya said mid-chai sip
"OH MY GOD." Ava gasped
"Wait, wait, wait—are those acceptance emails?!" Kavya squealed
"You didn't tell me you actually submitted it, dude?!" Hideya leaned over Rabin's shoulder
Everyone's phones blow up with screenshots from the group chat.
Inaya Mehta — Accepted
London Summer Literature Residency
Start Date: June 1st
Rabin Takahashi — Confirmed
Tokyo Summer Architecture Fellowship
Start Date: June 2nd
"You didn't tell me you submitted it." Inaya said slowley
"You didn't tell me you accepted it." Tabin said his voice soft
Beat.
"So… we're both going."
"Yeah. We are." Rabin nodded
The table falls into stunned silence. Then—
"BINAYA GOES INTERNATIONAL, BABY." Arnav screamed throwing his arms in air
"You two are gonna be on different continents but still end up writing the same poem." Ava teared up
"Long-distance romance? Again?? You're literally speed-running Season One nostalgia." Kavya laughed
"I better start folding origami envelopes for your letters now." Hideya teased
"We've done distance before, Inaya. We wrote our whole beginning apart." Rabin said turning to Inaya, his voice softer, just for her
"But now we're writing the in-between." Inaya nodded
Their fingers find each other under the table.
Softly. Automatically.
The table erupts again — not with chaos this time, but with love. With pride. With every flavor of support.
Airport Goodbyes – 25th May
Location: JFK International Airport
Time: Too early. Too raw. Too real.
Travelers mill about. Suitcases roll. Announcements echo overhead in soft, robotic tones that mean change is coming.
The squad's gathered near Gate 14 — the flight to London boards in an hour.
But everything already feels heavy.
Inaya is hugging Ava and Kavya, and now… she turns to Hideya.
She tries to play it cool. He doesn't.
"I wanted to leave without crying, you menace," Inaya said, her voice shaky as she tried to smile.
"You're allowed to cry. I'll just pretend it's raining inside JFK." Hideya shrugged
"You are the most annoying man alive." Inaya laughed through her tears
"Correct. And also… your emotional support Japanese man when Rabin's being a moody tofu."
She sniffles. Bites her lip.
"Thank you. For being my anchor when Rabin wasn't around."
"I got you, little Mehta. Always. You can't get rid of me now."
"You're more like… the chaotic older brother I didn't know I needed."
"I accept. But only if I get to claim partial credit for your glow-up." Hideya smirked
She laughs again. It comes out watery.
Hideya reached into his hoodie pocket. He pulled out something small. Pressing it into her palm.
A paper crane.
The wings are patterned with tiny cherry blossoms.
On the underside, in neat lettering:
"Come home safe."
Inaya clutched it to her chest.
No words. Just that inhale means I'll cry if I talk.
"Text me every time you're sad, anxious, or need to roast someone's poetry. Especially British boys. I need content." Hideya smiled
"Thank you. For everything."
He leans forward. Taps his forehead to hers.
"Go write the hell out of London, Aya. Rabin's not the only one proud of you."
She pulls back as she walks toward the gate.
She turns once — waves.
Hideya's already making an L with his fingers over his forehead, grinning through it.
Inaya rolls her eyes — but she's crying.
The good kind.
The airport is too loud. Too bright. Too indifferent.
But Inaya and Rabin?
They're a soft silence in the middle of it all.
She's holding her passport and boarding pass in one hand, her other hand tangled in his hoodie sleeve like she's afraid letting go will erase everything they've built.
"Text me when you land." Rabin said his voice extremely soft
"I will."
A pause. The weight of everything unspoken sits between them.
"I know it's London. I know it's three months. I know we've done distance. But…"
"But you're scared." Inaya completes his sentence smiling softly
He nods. Eyes glassy but not breaking. Not yet.
"I'm only one poem away. One playlist. One letter." Inaya teased gently
"I've already written six drafts. None of them say what I need them to." Rabin let out a choked laugh
"Then just say it now."
Rabin steps closer.
Tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. Fingers linger on her cheek.
"I love you.
I'm proud of you.
I'm scared shitless.
But I'm rooting for you louder than anyone else ever will." Rabin whispered
"I'll come back to you, Rabin. In every timeline, in every country, in every version of me… I'll always find my way back."
"You're not leaving me behind, you know."
"I'm taking you with me."
She pulls a folded paper from her pocket.
A handwritten poem. On the back: her lipstick kiss.
"Open it only when you miss me enough to cry."
Then I'm opening it in the cab home."
They both laugh — broken and full.
The boarding line begins to move.
"This isn't goodbye. It's just… see you in letters." Inaya said while stepping back
"In chai-stained pages and airplane-mode texts."
Their last hug is not rushed. Not fragile.
It's full-body. Full-heart. A thousand unspoken I-love-yous pressed into fabric and skin.
And just before she pulls away—
Rabin whispers into her hair "Come back selfish. Come back brilliant. Just… come back."
She turns.
Walks toward the gate.
Doesn't look back until the very last second.
And when she does—
Rabin's still there.
Still smiling.
Still loving her with a kind of quiet that could outlive the oceans.
Rabin's Goodbye – JFK Airport, 30th May
Rabin's flight boards in 20 minutes.
He's double-checking his bag for the fourth time — sketchbook? check. hoodie? check. feelings? very much NOT in check.
And then—he hears it.
"Don't tell me you forgot your emotional baggage. It's the only thing you pack well." Kavya nagged from behind
He turns, already smirking.
"I was hoping TSA would confiscate it."
"Dream on, emo architect." Kavya rolled eyes
They just look at each other for a second. No chaos. No insults. Just the kind of weird, tight silence that only happens when something real's about to break through.
"So you're going, huh?"
"Didn't think I'd get attached to you, Chaos Ahuja. But turns out bullying you daily was... weirdly therapeutic."
"Please. You were blessed to witness my daily brilliance."
"Oh right. Your 'brilliance' that once mistook salt for sugar in Ava's brownies?" Rabin smirked
"You said you'd never bring that up again!"
"Consider it my parting gift."
They both laugh — too hard for an airport, too loud for a goodbye. And then suddenly, it's quiet again.
"Gonna miss you, Turtleneck," Kavya said her voice soft, arms crossed
"Same, Drama Queen." Rabin said looking down, fidgeting with his sleeve
A beat.
"I give it one week before you start sketching sad buildings shaped like my side-eye." Kavya teased
"I give it three days before you text me something you swear isn't emotional but absolutely is."
"Shut up." Kavya smirked
She walks over. Pulls him into a hug that is completely un-Kavya, completely soft, completely real.
"You better come back, idiot."
"Not without my favorite rival."
They pull apart, just enough for her to punch him (lightly) in the arm.
"Now go. Or I'll cry and then yell at you for it."
"Text me when you burn something in the kitchen."
"Text me when you ruin your first attempt at instant ramen."
"Deal."
And just like that — their stupid, beautiful, chaotic banter goes on pause.
But not for long.
Because they both know…
This isn't the end.
It's just an intermission.
Rabin stands by the giant glass windows, watching the planes line up like punctuation marks on a goodbye letter. His carry-on is beside him, headphones tangled around his wrist. He looks… quiet. But not calm.
His phone buzzes.
Incoming Call: My Metaphor <3.
He answers immediately.
"You're up early."
"I couldn't sleep. My dreams kept missing you." Inaya said yawning on the other end
He smiles. The first one of the day.
"I'm boarding in ten."
"Do you have everything? Passport? Anxiety? An unnecessarily sad playlist?"
"All three. And a paper crane in my hoodie pocket from a girl who said she'd wait."
"She sounds smart."
"She's everything."
A pause. The kind of pause that happens when two people want to freeze time.
"Are you okay?" Inaya asked
"I don't know. This is the first time in months I won't get to walk across campus and accidentally bump into you on purpose."
"Hey. You still have me. Just... time-zoned."
A soft laugh between them. And then—
"Inaya?"
"Yeah?"
"If at any point this summer feels too heavy… read our letters again. Especially the one where I said I'd always come back."
"Rabin—"
"I'm not saying goodbye. Just… see you in the spaces between your poems."
Rabin looks toward the gate.
"I have to go."
"Then go. And be brilliant. And stupid. And lost. And found. And everything in between. But come back home, okay?"
"You are home."
The call ends. But the line stays alive in his chest.
He picks up his bag. Takes one step toward the gate.
Then stops.
Pulls out his sketchbook.
Tucks a folded note into the inside cover.
It reads: "See you in Tokyo, London, or in every poem we haven't written yet. — R"