“My boo!” Zion exclaimed, catching Madison mid-jump. She locked her arms around his neck and they kissed like they were trying to win a contest no one else had entered.

Contrary to Zion and Madison's heated display of affection, Frankie and Daria's romance was more modest, marked by a simple peck on the lips. “Sorry we're late, my mom got home later than usual,” Daria apologized. Frankie pulled her close and kissed her once more, softer this time. “You’re here now. That’s what counts.” Zion finally came up for air. “We’re heading upstairs, y’all.” Madison squealed and jumped onto his back, wrapping her legs around his waist like she belonged there. M.J. emerged from the kitchen. “Food's ready for whoever's hungry.”

“Ooh, what'd you make?” Frankie asked.

“Just some roast - nothing major,” M.J. replied. M.J., Daria, and Frankie went into the kitchen/dining area which was remodeled specifically for Daria and M.J. who loved to cook. “Phoenix and Seth haven't made it here yet?” M.J. asked, wiping off the stove.

“Seth said they weren't going to make it over tonight,” Frankie said.

“Fine time to tell me,” M.J. pouted.

Frankie stepped behind him, sliding arms around him and brushing his face against M.J.'s hair. “Sorry, my Michelle. I forgot to tell you.”

M.J.'s face grew hot as he brushed off the familiar ache in his chest. It was an open secret among their friends that M.J. had feelings for Frankie, but Frankie had no idea M.J. was even gay, let alone that he had a huge crush on him.

Daria often encouraged M.J. to confess, convinced that Frankie would feel the same way and they all could be a “throuple”, but M.J. was paralyzed by the risk of losing their friendship or changing things between them. “Why do you always call M.J. ‘Michelle’?” Daria asked as they sat down together.

Frankie laughed, “You always ask me that. Don't you ever get tired of hearing that story? I've told you a million times.”

“Well, make it a million and one,” she said with a smile. Frankie leaned back, already laughing at the memory. “Okay, fine. Million-and-second time’s the charm. So I’d just moved to Paradise, total fish out of water, and I’m biking through the woods like an idiot when I hear this voice so clear and gorgeous, floating through the trees like some Disney princess lost her map. I roll up and there’s this kid with long hair and these huge eyes, singing to the squirrels -” “I was not singing to squirrels!” M.J. interrupted only to be shushed by Daria.

“Anyway,” Frankie continued, “I thought that I was the luckiest bastard alive to find such a pretty girl. I swaggered over - with as much swagger an eight year old could have - and asked his name. In the tiniest voice he says ‘M.J.’, but I thought he said ‘Mary Jane’ and told him he looked more like a ‘Michelle’ to me.” “And the name stuck and he terrorizes me with it at his leisure. The end,” M.J. said quickly. “Now, eat before it gets cold.” “Were you really disappointed when you found out M.J. was a boy?” Daria asked, ignoring M.J.’s embarrassment.

Frankie shrugged, “Maybe a little back then, but I got my best friend out of the deal, so I still won.”

M.J. kept his gaze on his plate, something flickering across his face too fast to name. Under the table, Daria lightly pressed her foot against his as an apology. A second later he nudged back, barely there. I’m okay.

After that, the only sounds were silverware and the low, steady hum of the fridge filling the small kitchen like it always did when nobody needed to say anything more.