Trent was ready for conflict, whether it came from Max and the Spiral, or Monique and her escort. The crowd was hopping with mild enthusiasm, which was the most overwhelming display they'd ever seen. Trent wanted to bask, but he had to deal with whatever had happened by the bar. There always seemed to be other things nowadays. There was someone to check in with, someone to impress, someone to try for… His very best was nowmeh, and hismeh was embarrassing. Ever since Daria rolled into town he found himself standing straighter, focusing harder, trying to pretend he wasn't a total slouch. He hadn't succeeded thus far.

"Mind the guitar." Trent passed it to Jesse without thought.

"Sure." The vested man looked funny, dual wielding guitars and groupies.

Trent jumped off the stage, landing with a solid thud that nearly flattened him. The heavy soled shoes matched with euphoric distance from the real world, Trent felt untouchable, and vulnerable, and he loved the post-gig scene. It was frustrating, that he couldn't enjoy it. In this constant ebb and flow that Monique had over his life, he lost all joy. She was a good musician, and that was where his compliments ended. Each time they broke up, she increased in her aggression. Whether she noticed, or if it was intentional on her part, Trent couldn't say.

The persistent itch Trent got when Nathan was around surfaced, his skin crawling. Funnily enough, Nathan wasn't taller. He was barely at Trent's nose, but it didn't stop Nathan looking down at him. What a talent he possessed.

"Nice set." Nathan smiled.

"Monique." Trent ignored Nathan, knowing the words were a straight up lie. It had been good, yeah, but Nathan didn't think so. Sugared compliments weren't going to dissuade his annoyance, starting with Max, ending now with Monique. "What'd you do?"

"Excuse me?" Monique tried to feign upset, hands curled around her hips.

"Don't pull that with me. I saw you come in with Daria, and now she's gone. She wasn't gonna come tonight, so why bring her?"

"She looked blue, I thought she could use some cheering up." Monique gestured to Nathan, who seemed indifferent to Monique's implication. Whether he was entirely emotionless, or in it for the cruel enjoyment of making others cringe, Trent didn't want to know.

"You're both so screwed up, you know that, right?" Trent flicked his fingers against his temple, all angles and harsh tones. It really irked him, this flippant attitude they mutually held towards the rest of Lawndale. Just because you were part of a cow town didn't make you any worse a person; it didn't mean a thing, if you were decent. But they walked about like they were better than everyone, when they were nothing but nasty.

"Mmh, I don't really see your angle, Trent. I was looking out for a friend, trying to set her up with a nice guy. What's so wrong with that?" Monique frowned. From an outside perspective, Trent would look petty, or rude, or both. It seemed nice of her, from the outside. Nathan was a nice guy with nice money and a nice job, where was the malice?

"You aren't doing it for her, I know that much." Trent watched as Jodie approached, nursing a drink and a frown. "So Daria was here, and you, what, dragged her here against her will?"

"Isn't this all a little high school for you, Trent? I thought you were trying to get past that."

That stung. Monique knew she had a few years on him; she had some savings, a working car, a lead on a record deal. She was also keenly aware of how all that hurt Trent, who often spoke about leaving his high school funk behind. He tried, though looking out for Janey while the rest of the family was off doing who knows what, and working on his music, he found himself falling out of jobs, struggling to stay afloat, trying so hard, sleeping to save money, putting off his car repairs to pay the bills, or treat Jane to some canvases…

"If she's gonna run off crying, let her. We are adults, not kids. Y'can't run away from all your problems. And honestly, it's so rude, treating Nathan like a problem." Monique looked to Jodie, who was bracketed against the bar between her singer and Nathan. She looked less thrilled with the conversation, shrugging in apology.

Trent mouthed a few curse words under the thrum of music, not even sure he could trust his tongue. First Max, throwing all the nasty adjectives he could muster about Daria at Trent, and now Monique turning her sharp words against the innocent soul. Not that he painted her in such a two-dimensional light. He could see all the bends and curves where she turned darker, but it didn't stop him from admiring her.

As stupid and childish as he sounded, pining after her even when she said she couldn't. It didn't matter to him; he cared about her, as a friend, as a flame, as a girl who snorted with laughter over a few McDonalds hotcakes.

"You made her cry?"

"It was a figure of speech, Trent! She wasn't crying. I don't think she can." Monique hissed, teeth framing her tongue piercing. "Stop trying to make me sound like a monster. I'm doing her a solid, from where I'm standing. You're always so hyperbolic with alignments, good, evil, black, white. Don't you get sick of your flat perspective?"

"I don't get you." Trent snapped back. "This hot and cold attitude is giving me whiplash."

"I want you to be happy." The unspoken 'I want us to be happy' followed in her expression, but that was about as empty as Trent's back account.

Trent sighed, hands running through sweat-dampened hair. He was sick of the withering grasp Monique held over him, as if it were normal to lapse in and out of love with someone. It had been poetic once upon a time, star-crossed lovers in rival bands, competing for the gigs, secretly cavorting behind the scenes. Now it made him feel old in a terrible way, treading the same path over and over again. Monique's curves were tedious, not exciting, her hair a mess in the worst possible way. She was falling apart before his eyes, as much as he willed himself to see her for what she had once been.

"Mon, back off for once." Jodie set her hand on Monique's elbow, trying to catch her friend's better side. It didn't stop Jodie from sending nasty looks Trent's way. Not that anyone could blame her; Jesse did the same to Monique. Everyone except the pair knew they were bad for one another. Maybe they would always be the last to realize.

"Forget it." Monique sighed, fingers intertwined in her methodically messy hair. "Try and do a nice thing for a girl, goes and backfires. So much for sisterly love, huh?" Jodie let out a laugh to support Monique's quip, but she seemed demure about it all. Not the regular level of passionate for groupie blood, like when a starstruck fan would waddle up to Trent. Maybe because they hadn't been threats.

Trent glanced at the doors out to Dega Street, stranded somewhere between content and conflicted. Wherever Daria had gone, he knew she had wanted to be alone. She wasn't stupid enough to linger, to remain aloof by a lamppost or car. She wouldn't be waiting for him to come find her, not when he prioritized his music over her comfort. But she hadn't said she was coming. Hell, she could have been a ghost or apparition. How could you prove she was here, at the Zon, when she had said otherwise? Maybe it was a trick or a trap, designed to ensnare him.

And it made him poetic, and wistful, and very annoyed for all the Daniels he'd snatched off Max. There was the burn of it lingered, mixed with a sore throat from singing, sore fingers from playing, sore eyes from staring out over the lit crowd.

And it sucked. A lot.

This wasn't Trent. He didn't chase girls, he didn't idly think about them. He was focused on his music, and the attainable. He hadn't worked for anything in his life, save for his music. He barely worked to date Monique, who treated him as a port between storms, and honestly, where were all this metaphors coming from? Trent groaned, blaming Daria, blaming her for her muse, her inspiration, her unattainable air that wasn't a show. It was her, being candid. She wasn't denying him, she was trying to save him, because she was as broken as he was and she hardly realized it.

Or maybe he was presuming too much about her.

Trent took to smoking on the curb, legs splayed, head dropped, expression lost. This wasn't him. This wasn't how he was. There wasn't a time in his life he could recall leaning so heavily on someone, expecting so much of someone, to be let down. If he had been let down. Daria didn't owe him anything, and it wasn't her fault to begin with. She hadn't wanted to come to the Zon, and she hadn't stayed. So was he angry at Monique, or Nathan, or Max, or was this adjusting to rejection skewing his cool?

The upward tilt and swirl of smoke took to the air around him, and a shadow loomed. Heavy footsteps, a thunk, and there was Jodie of all people. She was the kinder of the two, the lyricist who got the nuances of human condition. Claire was sweet, too, but they didn't really like him. He didn't blame them.

"Monique's singing."

"Stole the stage, huh?" Trent flicked ash, thumb tapping at the filter.

Jodie nodded, toeing the ground. Her drumsticks were still tucked in her pocket, as they always were, but she wasn't fidgeting with them for once. "She doesn't like being upstaged."

"I really don't care what she wants."

Jodie snorted. "That's obvious."

"Jodie, I don't really wanna talk in metaphors here." They were more acquaintances than friends, and they shared cheap whiskey. It wasn't friendship, but it was something.

"Don't act like a victim, Trent. Agreeing to go with Daria to that wedding was a shitty thing to do. You know it was. Mon and Daria were getting to be friends, and you go and snatch a friend away from her, why? To screw Daria, or whatever, and piss Monique off? That's not very nice." Jodie simplified, head dipped so her chin was resting on her knees. "Monique really likes you, for whatever stupid reason… So you doing that, it kinda justified her pushing Daria at Nathan so hard." Her voice was wavering, since she knew she was prying. "That's how Monique sees it, anyway."

"If you think any of this is about Monique…" Trent shook his head.

Jodie swallowed hard, arms crossed over her knees now. "I'm not saying I agree, but that's Monique's take on it… And from where I'm sitting, yeah, that's how it looks. I hate when you two date. You get so fuckin' gross and screw everywhere. And it's not working for you two, you or Mon. It never does." Jodie rolled her lips between her teeth. "But I dunno, Monique seems to think you'll settle down and have a bunch of kids, that's her take, but… But we don't talk about it. She only admits to that when she's blind drunk." Jodie waved a hand between them.

And that was the truth. Jodie rarely spoke to Trent outside of parties, or sharing weed. "You don't agree, and you don't ever talk to me about this, but right now you're full of opinions… Weird."

Jodie pushed up from the curb. "Monique's set on you, and I want her to be happy. So you gotta tell her how it is, whether you want her or not. Otherwise she's gonna keep hassling Daria, because that's what she does. She's competitive, and Daria's…" Jodie shrugged. "I don't think Daria could survive if Monique started trying to get on her nerves."

"Survive?" Trent couldn't believe his ears. The Harpies got serious about their music, like Mystik Spiral, but they rarely had a word to say about who dated who. Granted, Trent didn't date people, except Monique… Because of Monique? She shadowed his gigs, she was personable, charismatic, but she often let her anger run her plans. That was a side not many saw, save for him, for the Harpies, the Spiral. His head hurt. "If you and the Harpies are gonna start attacking Daria because I'm not into Monique anymore, you're the ones stuck in high school." Trent ran his hand over his neck, now standing over Jodie.

"I don't mean it like that…" Jodie countered, lips down turned. "Daria's cool."

"Aren't you all girl power and sisterly love, then you come out here threatening Daria because I might like her?"

"We aren't threatening anyone… Shut up." Jodie scowled up at Trent, threading her fingers through dirty blonde hair. The roots were coming through in clumps, and that was all he could see. Her focus was on the ground. Maybe she was drunk. Maybe she was talking shit. The difference in height wasn't so bad normally, given Trent's natural slope. The night had set him on edge, on the defensive, with Max, and Monique, and Nathan and now Jodie… He didn't like her attitude; the presumptions, the nastiness, the cattiness. He had to wonder where it had all come from. The girls were usually very chill, so what was the damage?

"Night Jodie."

Trent shook his head, stepping back toward the Zon. The club goers were all dispersing, to smoke and screw, but Trent had shit to do. He elbowed past the thinning crowd, towards the back. Monique was sitting on the stage with her head down, legs kicked over the edge. He walked straight by her, not falling for her tragic allure, her broken artist flavor.

If anyone, he needed to speak to Janey, but she was probably asleep. She was at home, for sure, and that left him with the Spiral.

And then Daria herself… Crap, where did she end up?

…

"So you told Trent you couldn't date him, because…"

"Because I can't."

"Because…"

"Trent's a kid." Daria sighed over her mug of coffee, eyes focused on Amy. The older woman looked like a mirror, or an apparition of her ideal future. Amy wasn't bogged down in a career or a failing marriage. She had control and precise order to her life, set to her liking. Daria strove for the same, for herself, even if Amy discouraged it.

"Pretty sure he's not a kid."

"You know what I mean." Daria set her mug down, examining the faltering neon lights. While her mother had been an obvious first choice, the knowledge that Amy was in town for a few days either side of the wedding wasn't something Daria wanted to miss. Amy was more like an older sister, only a handful of years older than Daria. And to meet her here, it had only taken a swift phone call, garbled between panicked breaths.

"Trent seemed more on top of things than most guys I've dated."

Daria gave a benign stare. "And?"

"And maybe you don't have to have a good reason to give him a chance. It's okay to have standards to protect yourself, but don't set them so high you deprive yourself." Amy shrugged. "Eventually you want to go back into the world. You dated Troy because you wanted that. And he was a jackass, we agree, and he'll get what's coming to him. But that doesn't mean you should cut yourself down into a box to try and protect yourself. You're denying yourself the ability to grow, and adapt. You got yourself out of your situation with Troy, and you can take care of yourself. If Trent wants to get to know you better, maybe you should let him."

"Which is what got me here in the first place."

"No." Amy shook her head, bracketing her forehead between her finger and thumb. "What got you where you were was a psychopath in a nice suit. You cannot keep going back to that, Daria. You'll never leave it." Amy offered a smile, though it lacked sweetness. It was concern, from family, as it always was. "I know it's a lot of what you've heard before, but if you linger, he wins. They win. The best revenge is success."

"Because success is that easy."

"When you're as talented, young and pretty as you? You'd have to try to fail, and even then…" Amy grinned. "Success in this equation is a cute guy with black hair and piercing."

"It's not that simple."

"It could be." Amy sipped knowingly, in a way Daria had to admire. Daria smiled with a softer tilt to her lips, and a drop of her shoulder.

The rickety café door popped open, revealing a stream of semi-sober goth-punk-grunge zombies, all groaning for food. Daria looked to Amy, who mirrored her amusement. The pair went to snatch up their respective jackets, only to find themselves stalled.

AN: Who could it be? Trent and the gang? Nathan? Monique? Mr. DeMartino? Yeah I really am doing this. Please review! I'm passionate about finishing this story sometime this year, gasp.