Chapter Text
It all started on a Thursday in June.
A celebratory night in after a brutal week of exams. A random combination of liquor from the freezer, a small can of off-brand sprite (because, duh), and a poor orange that was hacked to death with a dull kitchen knife sat in a (not quite) rusty old metal pot on the counter. A pot last used to cook a serving of year-old noodles found in the cabinets, in what one can only call a eureka moment, several days prior.
Why a pot, you may ask?
The answer is simple: All the other liquid-holding vessels in the apartment were dirty, and who has the fucking time to do the dishes. Certainly not two burnt out medical students, one a first year, the other a second, who just barely survived the horrors of exam season. Two students who, by the seat of their pants, made it out alive and well (well may be an overstatement), ready to drink to forget the last few weeks of late nights and flashcards and panic.
Two students, a two year age gap, two misshapen plastic cups - reusable, of course - taken from a pile of shit on the side of the road, one half-full, the other empty, but both of which started out containing a healthy portion of the concoction in the old pot on the counter. A concoction that probably had way too much liquor in relation to the sprite. A concoction the two students had been sipping over the last hour of playing some stupid mario-cart knock off while lounging on the couch.
After getting narrowly screwed out of first place for the third time in a row, Trinity shoved Dennis’s feet off of her lap and jumped to her feet.
“This stupid game is fucking bullshit. Bull. Fucking. Shit,” she grumbled, slightly too loud for poor Dennis, still only a few feet to her right. “Nice idea, Fuckleberry. A real bright fucking lightbulb moment for you.”
“Uh, Trin….. This was your -”
“Shut it, farm boy, no one ever cared. I need a goddamn snack after all this.”
Dennis rolled his eyes at her antics while hiding a small smile. He was about to pick up his controller to start another game when he heard Trinity yelling from the kitchen.
“You want anything?”
“Sure Trin, I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
“Bold. Don’t complain to me if your poor white-ass tastebuds can’t handle properly seasoned food.” Dennis didn’t dignify her retort with a spoken answer, only a small, fond smile, for he knew that she was all talk. Whenever she would be the one who cooked dinner for the both of them, she always made sure to customize his portion to fit his weak ability to handle spice. An ability cultivated by his years growing up on a farm in bumfuck nowhere and a family who thought the proper way to season a chicken was with a pre-mixed seasoning from the local grocery store. He may miss the farm life, but he certainly didn’t miss the food. Having a cranky lesbian roommate has its perks. Sometimes.
In the kitchen, said cranky lesbian was staring at the contents of the fridge, contemplating life, and debating the ethics of hacking the government and lowering gas prices - but, like, not seriously. Probably. Not that she had the skills for it either way. It was wishful thinking at best. After taking a moment to curse the government and the woes of student loans, she reached in and pulled out the necessary ingredients for that night’s struggle meal.
“Yo, Huck. Pizza à la stale bread sound good?” In case you were wondering, this meal of choice consists of a slice of bread, some sort of tomato “sauce” - be it the real thing or just a couple of cherry tomatoes she microwaved and then crushed -, and whatever cheese and protein they had available.
“Yeah, sounds good,” came the reply from the other room, in a tone that clearly implied a certain level of distraction.
“Yours is gonna have a whole chili pepper on it,” she said, testing him.
“Uhuh, great.”
“And I’m gonna sprinkle in some glass shards for texture.”
“Yum.”
“Such a fuckleberry," she grumbled under her breath as she feigned annoyance at his antics. She moved with a finesse in the kitchen that could only have come from years of experience, and as she zoned out, she started humming.
While the rest of the school may have been shocked if they witnessed this side of her, the walls of their shitty apartment were all too familiar with the soft notes that often left her lips, and the primal screaming that came with a long day and an explosion of frustration during their semi-regular “karaoke therapy.”
After a moment of humming she started swaying her hips and added in some fancy (she’s been drinking, this is as fancy as it gets) footwork as she prepped their meals. She sprinkled the cheese on the bread with a flourish and a shimmy before sliding the slices in the toaster oven they pilfered from a yard sale at the low price of ten dollars. With the distraction of food prep out of the way, she picked up a random spoon from the counter and her hums turned into words as she broke out into song, the angry words of Meredith Brooks filling the air. Nothing like a song called “Bitch” to get your blood flowing and to pass the time as you wait for your dinner to finish cooking.
Back in the other room, Dennis, still a lump on the couch, perked up with a shit-eating grin as he realized what song she was singing. He hopped to his feet and ran to the kitchen to join her as she approached the chorus, opting for a lower counter-melody to compliment her smooth, boss-bitch vocals.
“I’m a bitch, I’m a lover
I’m a child, I’m a mother
I’m a sinner, I’m a saint.
I DO NOT FEEL ASHAMED.”
(they screamed this line, as one does)
He decided to be a bit cheeky and mess around with the lyrics, earning him the most dramatic eye-roll known to man-kind.
“You’re my hell, I’m your dream.”
“Oh, fuck you, D.”
“We’re nothing in between
You know we wouldn’t want it any other way.”
The shrill ding of the toaster oven interrupted their singing before they could move on to the next verse, and they shared a glance before falling to the floor in a fit of laughter. It took them a minute to catch their breath before sitting up and leaning against the cabinets built into the kitchen counter. They sat in silence that was only interrupted by the occasional giggle.
“Oh, man. I needed that,” Trinity let out with a soft snort. Dennis just smiled at her in response as warmth spread through his chest.
“Hey, Trin?” he squeaked under his breath.
“Yeah, Huck?”
“We should start a band.” Trinity looked up at him in surprise. “Ya know, make music together? It could be a good way to unwind.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Dennis…”
“Just hear me out, T. Think about it. What better way to get all our frustration and anxiety out than to sing about it? Therapy isn’t free. Creativity is. Plus, if we post some stuff, who knows? Maybe we’ll get a following and sponsors and then be able to quit working at the Starbucks around the corner and finally afford real food and chairs that don’t wobble and -”
“Whoa, slow your roll Huckleberry. We gotta actually make the music first.”
Dennis nearly gave himself a concussion against the cabinet door as he whipped his head to look at her in disbelief.
“Wait. Are you serious? I didn’t actually think you would consider it.”
“Yeah, why not?” she replied with a shrug. “What harm can it do?”
“You’re sure about this?”
“Oh, definitely. You’ve got me all excited about it and once I’m excited… Well, you should know I don’t back down.”
Dennis let out a loud breath and quirked the corners of his lips up in a small smile.
“So, we’re really doing this?”
“Yeah, D. We are.”
Dennis opened his mouth as if to say something else, only to be interrupted by the rumbling of Trinity’s stomach. Before he could make fun of her, she popped up from the floor and shouted at the ceiling. “Oh, shit. The pizza toast!”
July 2nd, 2026
They got to the hospital earlier than usual, what with Whitaker needing to pick up his new ID badge - his third one since starting as an intern. A damn near impossible feat for anyone other than him, and Santos never let him forget it.
They parted ways once they dropped their personal effects off at the locker room, Santos abandoning Whitaker in favor of heading to the break room to make herself a coffee. Caffeine is caffeine, no matter how offensive the taste. She trudged down the hallway grumbling to herself, a permanent frown etched on her face, her shoulders slumped and her hands shoved as far as they could go in the pockets of her scrub pants. The perfect look for someone wanting to avoid any unnecessary conversations. It’s important to note that making fun of her colleagues is not constituted as unnecessary, but if you were to ask literally anyone else, they would strongly disagree.
She walked quietly, what one could call stealthily, which is only possible for her due to the exhaustion forcing her to take smaller, lighter steps instead of her usual sure-footed ones. That, combined with the power of the bluetooth earbuds in the medical student’s ears, is what allowed her to essentially sneak up on Javadi in the breakroom. She rolled her shoulders and forced a mask of indifference (mixed with smugness) on her face as she watched Javadi continue to be oblivious to the world while being deeply invested in some video playing on her phone.
“Whatcha doing, Crash?” she quipped, the amusement audible if you paid close enough attention.
“Oh my God what the fuck,” Javadi shrieked as she jumped an impressive distance out of her seat. Santos couldn’t help but burst into laughter at the sight.
“Wow, using big girl words are we now? I’m impressed.”
“Oh, fuck you.”
“Gasp! Me? What did I ever do to you?” Javadi shot a withering glare her way.
“What haven’t you done? I have a list if you want to know.”
“Now, now, Crash. Don’t be hasty. It’s all in good fun. But you still haven’t answered my question.” Santos got a deadpan stare in return. After a few moments of silence, it was clear she was going to have to force it out of Javadi. “What you were doing, Crash,” she said with exasperation (and mild curiosity, though she would never admit that). When the med student’s eyes lit up, regret started to fester, but before she could take back her statement, Javadi started what can only be described as a level-2 ramble - or what Trinity would call “a cry for help.”
“Okay, so, you know the band Just2Fruity? They got big a couple years ago after posting a few song snippets on TikTok? Well, so, they’re like. My favorite band ever. But no one knows who they actually are, just that they go by “D” and “T” in order to keep their privacy. Who am I kidding, you probably know that. They are like. Super popular you’d have to be living under a rock to not know who they are. But then again, you do kind of live under a rock. Like a meaner, smarter Patrick Star or an earth worm or, like, maybe some sort of arachnid like a tick or a spi - “
“Jesus, Crash. Get to the point. Just spit it out, it’s not that hard.” The snark earned her a wide eyed look from Javadi, who paused for a second, unsure if she should continue. “Well, come on then. We don’t have all day.”
“So, if you couldn’t already tell, I’m like, a huge fan of them. And they just released a new song last week. Which, if you follow them, you know is a big deal, what with both of them having a day-job and being busy. Sort of like real life Hannah Montanta -”
“Of fucking course you’re a Hannah Montana kid,” Santos muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes fondly (though she would never admit to this).
“- but if Hannah Montana was like, a two-man band,of course. Because Just2Fruity has two members. So it wouldn’t make sense to compare them directly to Hannah Montana who’s a solo artist. And because she’s a character, not a real person.”
“Always with the fucking rambles, I swear to Hayley Kiyoko.”
“Anyway, so, where was I? Oh, yeah, okay. So they just released a new song last week. And with the new song came an interview with the lead singer: T. The first interview they’ve done. Not a video interview, of course, due to their wish of staying anonymous. But a transcript of a phone call interview. And the interview was released yesterday. And with the posting of the interview came the hard-core fans analyzing every word. So, that’s what I was watching. A TikTok analyzing their new song and who they might be and what they might do ‘irl.’”
Santos could tell Javadi was finally done with her explosion of information when she paused to take in a huge gasp of air, stopped waving her hands around, and looked at Santos with a sheepish smile.
“And, you probably don’t even care about that, do you.”
“Nah, don’t worry about it, Crash. It’s cute. Like a toddler excited about the drawing they made in daycare.” Javadi scowled at her, but didn't take the bait. “What are they saying, anyway?”
“Since when do you care about pop culture and my interests?”
“Hey now. Just because I am obviously so much cooler than you and insanely talented doesn’t mean I don’t lurk on the internet. And I’m Filipina. We live for gossip. Besides, I was forced to be here by Huckleberry, that fucking idiot. Might as well kill some time.”
“If you’re sure…”
“Victoria Karen Javadi -”
“That’s not my middle name.”
“- If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t have said anything. Now spill.”
Just2Fruity released their second new song this year, after a nearly two-year hiatus. I had the opportunity to have a chat with the lead singer and mastermind behind their whole operation: T, for the band's first official interview.
Interviewer: So, tell me, T. What have you guys been up to lately?
T: Oh, you know. The ol’ 9-to-5, the daily grind that comes with being a person.
Interviewer: What do you do on your average day?
T: Well, it depends. When I have work, I wake up pretty early, but probably later than I should, chug whatever caffeinated beverage we have at the apartment, and book it to work.
If I have the day off, I am usually hanging out with D. You didn’t hear this from me, but we like to watch nature documentaries. You know, David Attenborough, a majestic elk off in the distance. There’s something about it that’s so relaxing. We will also go out with some work friends if we have the energy. Clubbing, karaoke, the whole nine yards, followed with trashy reality TV well into the morning. You haven’t lived if you’ve never put on The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives while drunk.
Interviewer: I can imagine. And what is it that you do for work?
T: *laughs* Oh, honey. Nice try. That’s for me to know.
Interviewer: I had to shoot my shot. You can’t blame a guy for trying. But that brings me to my next question - Why the anonymity?
T: Let me answer your question with a question. Why not? Why would I want my entire life broadcast for the world to see? There’s a price that comes with fame. We wanted to be able to live our everyday lives without being followed by paparazzi and stopped in the street for a photo, to be able to have a day job. Jobs that we worked our butts off to get to. The world doesn’t get to take that from us. And I say this with the caveat that we never thought this many people would enjoy our music. We were just two kids making music for fun.
Interviewer: And how did the band start? What made you two decide, hey, we are going to do this?
T: Oh, man. That was, what? Four years ago? Wow, time really flies. It was the end of a long and stressful week for the two of us, and we had a celebratory night in playing some videogame and drinking whatever alcohol we had in the apartment. At some point we started singing, and D turned to me with his big doe eyes and the most outrageous idea he’d ever have. We started recording covers of whatever songs we were obsessed with at the time as an outlet for our stress. It felt really cathartic to let ourselves just feel the music, to feel our emotions in a way we couldn’t in our day-to-day lives. D, that sweet boy, was the one who came up with our name. I told him it was so dumb, and he practically screamed “That’s the point, T!” We ended up posting our covers on TikTok. The covers turned to original songs as we got more comfortable with the whole thing. And it just spiraled from there.
Interviewer: What a whirlwind.
T: Tell me about it. It felt like our lives changed overnight. Once you spend enough time in school, all the days blur together.
Interviewer: Okay, let’s pivot. You released a new song today.
T: Yup, sure did!
Interviewer: This is the first release, barring your song "Insert Title Here" that you released at the beginning of June, from Just2Fruity in, what? A year and a half?
T: Yeah, almost two years, I think.
Interviewer: Any reason in particular for the hiatus?
T: I graduated two years ago.
Interviewer: Congratulations!
T: Thanks! After I finished school, I went right into working. I wish I had some hot gossip to spill, but the truth is, I was simply too busy to even consider being creative.
Interviewer: What changed?
T: Now, that’s a loaded question. I guess the simple answer is that I got inspired, and keeping it in would have been harder than the work it took to write it.
Interviewer: I have to admit, when I first listened to “All I’ve Ever Known,” I was blown away. The second time, I had to hold back tears. Would you be open to sharing what or who the song is about?
T: Damn, right to the hard questions. *breathy laugh* The song isn’t really about one person. It’s a mix of feelings about two different people.
Interviewer: How so?
T: Well, on one hand, it is a platonic love song about D. I had a rough go of it in my early teen years. I spent a long time feeling alone in a world that is so big. D and I met in school, maybe a year before we started the band. He moved in with me, and suddenly, I wasn’t alone anymore. It took me a while to open up, and he was so kind and patient. We’ve been inseparable ever since.
Interviewer: That’s adorable. Not everyone is lucky enough to find a friendship like that.
T: Don’t I know it. I don’t know who I would have become without him in my life.
Interviewer: You said the song was about two people?
T: To be honest, I was hoping you forgot about that. But, yes.
Interviewer: Care to elaborate?
T: Yeah, I can do that. I’ve sort of been. Seeing someone.
Interviewer: Oh?
T: We work together. Met on my first day, actually. And what a shitshow that day was. You don’t even want to know. We ended up getting drinks a few weeks later, and then. Well. We did what two attractive people do.
Interviewer: Ah, yes. I’m definitely picking up what you’re putting down. Please, continue.
T: There’s not much left to say. We’ve been. Doing the do ever since. Nothing else really. Nothing defined, no real relationship, just casual, two people enjoying each other's company, which, if you couldn't already tell, is what “Insert Title Here” is about. And casual is something we agreed upon. It was discussed and established and it was fine.
Interviewer: But something changed?
T: *sigh* Something changed. Feelings happened. At least on my end. And we haven’t talked about it. I don’t even think she knows that feelings happened. But I guess the song is how I hope she would react? If I ever told her, that is. Sorry, that’s so cheesy I am so embarrassed.
Interviewer: What, why?
T: Because I don’t do that mushy gushy shit. I don’t do feelings. At least not in my normal life.
Interviewer: You said earlier that music was an emotional outlet for you two.
T: Yeah. I tend to keep my shit to myself. Be professional and all that.
Interviewer: So you shouldn’t be embarrassed about the song. It’s you releasing the pent up feelings. And it’s a damn good song. Award winning, even.
T: Aw, that’s so sweet. I’m glad you like it.
Well, T. As much as I would like to keep chatting, I’m afraid that’s all the time we have today. It was wonderful talking to you, and thank you so much for taking the time to do this.
T: It was nice talking to you as well. Take care!
“Victoria Karen Javadi -”
“That’s not my middle name.”
“- If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t have said anything. Now spill.”
If Javadi’s fan-girl moment a minute earlier was a level-2 ramble, what came out of her mouth next would definitely be classified as a level-4 ramble. A ramble where having a tank of oxygen nearby might be considered a necessity.
“Oh my gosh, okay. So, we don’t really know much about D, since this interview is the only time they’ve ever said anything about their personal lives, so they are speculating more about T. We know she doesn't work from home, because she has a thing with someone she met from work -”
“Could have met over zoom, but whatever.” Javadi was clearly too deep in her own excitement to register the interruption.
“- and she and D met at college and that they graduated two years ago, so we know she has a degree which would narrow down potential fields -”
“Again, wishful thinking, because you don’t need to work in your field of study.”
“- and she definitely isn’t working in the creative arts, because then what would be the point of being anonymous to then work in the same field in her daily life -”
“Okay, you have a point there.”
“- and she mentioned their school was stressful -”
“When is it not?”
“- and that they worked really hard to get the jobs they had. And she has to get up early and consume a lot of caffeine.” Javadi pauses to take in a huge gasp of air and does a little wiggle of excitement. “So we think that she might be a lawyer or like, work in politics.”
“Huh. Okay, I can see how that would be a reasonable conclusion.” Santos glanced up to see Javadi standing there with her mouth hanging open. “What?”
“You just agreed with me. You. Trinity Santos. Just said I was right.”
“Now, wait a minute. I didn’t say those exact words.”
“This is a momentous occasion omg. I totally need to tell my TikTok followers about this they will absolutely die.”
“Crash. Chill the fuck out okay. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Not a big deal? It’s totally a -”
“Oh, hey guys! Whatcha talking ‘bout?”
“Jesus fucking Christ!” Santos whipped around to give the intruder a withering glare.
“Ha, karma,” coughed Javadi with a smirk.
“Dennis Whitaker! Hasn’t your mama ever told you not to sneak up on a person like that?” Whitaker's eyes widened as he gave her a bewildered and half-guilty look.
“Uh, no?”
“Well, she fucking should have. Fucking hell oh my god. Gonna put me in an early grave.” She brought her hand to her chest in a dramatic flourish, clutching at her scrub top, and took an overly-emphasized breath.
“Sorry, Trin.” He gave her a small smile before pulling out a chair and plopping down with the grace of a [insert clumsy animal here]. She let out an exasperated sigh in response as the tension in the breakroom dissipated, and she moved to the counter to brew a fresh pot of the cheap coffee the hospital administration likes to buy. It’s really a shame that they can’t splurge on some less toxic coffee, but considering the fact that they refuse to adequately pay their staff, it’s not a huge shock that they won’t.
“I really gotta buy this hospital name-brand coffee grounds,” she mumbled, just quiet enough for Javadi to know she said something, but not know what it was. “ Goodness knows I can afford it. I could make it an anonymous donation or some shit.”
“Sorry, what was that?”
“Nothing, Crash. Just the world being homophobic.”
“I don’t think it’s possible for the world to be homophobic, Trin, since it’s not a sentient being…” Whitaker trailed off, as his statement earned him a death stare from his roommate and long-time best friend. He knew which battles were worth it, and this was not one of them, especially considering it’s his fault they had to get to work early. “Yeah, okay. Shutting up. So, uh. Talking about anything cool?”
“Well, Crash over here is a major-league fangirl and was telling me all about how the masses think this anonymous artist is actually a lawyer in real life. Some artist that goes by a letter. P? Or E? Or something?” She gave Whitaker a small smirk, her eyes glinting with unspoken laughter.
“Heh, I wouldn’t uh, I wouldn’t know anything about that,” he remarked, his hand moving to scratch at the back of his neck. Grabbing her freshly poured mug of coffee, Santos walked back to her chair and subtly flicked his ear.
“Real fucking smooth, Huck,” she whispered. “So. Javadi. What are your plans for the fourth?”
The intern shot her a grateful look at the change in subject, unsure if he would have been able to keep lying. There’s a reason Trinity is the one who runs all of their socials and was the one to do the interview. Dennis couldn't lie for shit. It’s actually impressive how quickly he would get the panic sweats and start to fold. There’s absolutely no way he would have survived an interview without spilling all of their secrets. Which is something he’s glad about, because he is not cut out for life as a public figure - a secondary reason for their anonymity. He’s just a shy guy from Nebraska, after all. Who could blame him?
“Same as you two. Working.”
“I thought you had it off?” Javadi grimaced at his question.
“I do. I did. But so does my mom. So, I offered to come in.”
Santos zoned out as her friends continued their conversation. And if she was thinking about one Yolanda Garcia, no, she wasn’t, what would ever make you think that? She was definitely not thinking about her stupid [read: absolutely gorgeous] face or her stupid [read: hot as fuck] smirk or her stupid [read: soft, kissable] lips or her stupid [read: multi-talented] hands. She was not, capital n-o-t not thinking about Yolanda Garcia. In fact, she was so busy not thinking about Yolanda Garcia, that she would have missed the fact that their shift was starting if Whitaker hadn’t given her foot a nudge as he got out of his chair. And if anyone ever found out how deeply she was not thinking about Yolanda Garcia, well, she might just have to quit her job and change her name to avoid the humiliation.