Chapter Text
If you were to ask Noah, there were very few perks of Total Drama as a franchise, but he had to admit that his little encounter with fame had gotten him enough brand deals here and there to be able to afford living in a relatively nice apartment with Owen while the two of them finished their degrees. There were definitely worse ways to spend your university years than living with your best friend.
Their living arrangement was made even better upon learning that their downstairs takeout store started offering a 20% discount for students on Fridays. It was easy to fall into a routine that way: every Friday, Noah and Owen would pick up their dinner from there to celebrate making it through the week, and each time, without fail, there would be a free fortune cookie added, and Noah would always complain about it. This week was no different.
“People from your past wait for you,” Noah frowned. “Wow, what a bad fortune. Who would have guessed? It’s almost like this was obvious. What is this, our thirty fifth takeout session? We’ve yet to get a single well-written fortune.”
“Aw, come on, it’s not that bad,” Owen laughed. “They’re fun!”
“They’re bullshit. It’s the typical human trait of searching for meaning where it doesn’t exist. You don’t mean to actually tell me that you believe there’s any significance to what a piece of paper inside a cookie tells you.”
Owen furrowed his brow in response, tapping his fingers against the table gently. He was clearly searching for something to say before he shrugged, “I dunno, the evening before I left for the first Total Drama season, I got a fortune that told me that luck was coming my way, and then I won!”
“You didn’t get to keep the reward money and had to deal with a whole other season right after,” Noah reminded him. “I don’t think I’d call that luck. Frankly, I don’t think I’d call any experience with Total Drama lucky.”
That was an understatement. Total Drama left Noah with nothing but stress, wasted potential, and a complete inability to ever be able to see the world through a normal lens again. He was considered one of the lucky ones, too – the majority of his ex-castmates walked out with scars that ran deeper than any of them would have liked to admit. Owen was one of the few people whose experience with the show ended with the capability to still look at things in a positive light: the perfect antithesis to Noah’s pessimism. Maybe that was why they got along so well.
“We got to meet cool people!” Owen insisted, giving Noah a determined look. Why he was running to the defense of Total Drama, of everything, Noah was unsure.
“And a bunch of assholes, too,” Noah said with a sigh. “Half the people who touched that show were only there because they had something seriously wrong with them. Look at Justin!”
“Hey, Trent, Cody, and Harold like Justin, so he can’t be that bad.”
Noah shook his head, studying Owen’s hopeful gaze. “They tolerate Justin because of their record label. It would reflect badly on them if they didn’t get along with one of their band members. I don’t think they actually like him.”
“They do! I promise! They hang out all the time. You wouldn’t do that with people who you dislike!”
Noah was about to interject and remind Owen that he had the perfect example of someone who spent hours hanging around him despite clearly not liking him, but ultimately decided he didn’t feel like opening an Alejandro-shaped can of worms tonight. One of Noah’s big rules in life was to not give too much thought to the manipulative asshole who Noah had once stupidly considered a friend. Instead, he cleared his throat and said, “I guess I just struggle to see what there is in Justin worth enjoying.”
Owen paused for a second, sparing a thoughtful glance in Noah’s direction. Noah awaited his judgement, desperately hoping that the conversation didn’t slip further into thoughts about their ex-castmates. Those types of conversations were never particularly pleasant; the what-ifs of the unfinished stories that some of them had with one another hung over their heads still, the millions of different pathways that they could have had if not for the stupid show ruining their chances at a normal life.
“I think,” Owen finally declared between a mouthful of chicken, pointing his fork towards Noah, “You just need more positivity in your life.”
Noah’s mouth twitched into a smile. Having spent years of his life around some of the fakest people you’ll ever meet, it was awfully refreshing to have Owen around. “You’re probably right, Big Guy. And I don’t think we’ll get positivity from thinking about Total Drama,” he stretched his arms and made his way towards the couch, turning on the TV. The best way to forget about the abnormality of their time on Total Drama was by living as close to a mundane life as possible. “Let’s see what’s airing now.”
After spending hours binging shitty quiz shows, Owen decided that it was time for him to sleep, urging Noah to do the same. “I know you’re technically on break, but don’t stay up too late, okay, buddy? You get cranky when you’re tired…”
Noah had given Owen a half-shrug, promising that he would do his best, but ended up working into the night on one of his unfinished coding projects. It wasn’t like he didn’t try to fall asleep – he had spent an hour or two mindlessly turning in his bed, hoping that by some miracle, sleep would come knocking at his door, but it never did. One of the longer lasting effects of Total Drama. Sleep stopped coming easily when you went to bed unsure of if you’d wake up safe or even alive. Even though Noah was no longer on that plane, a part of him felt like it was every time he closed his eyes.
After fighting a losing battle against his insomnia, Noah got out of his bed, stretched his back, and opened his laptop, deciding to focus his time instead on one of his unfinished coding projects. It was easy to lose himself in it, forgetting about the passage of time. Total Drama had convinced Noah time was hardly real, anyways. He wasn’t sure how long had passed when his phone suddenly rang. Blinking, he checked his clock, neck stiff.
6:01 AM. From behind his curtains, the sun was beginning to rise, its warm light poking through the top of Noah’s window. Whoever was calling now better have a real good reason: they would either need to be really drunk or really desperate.
Rubbing his eyes, Noah walked over to his bedside table, picking up his phone. He’d expected it to be Izzy, maybe? Eva? Gwen?
He had likely gotten his hopes up way too high, because upon seeing the actual caller, he let out a frustrated groan and declined the call as quickly as possible. Absolutely not.
His phone rang again after only a few seconds.
He declined it again.
The caller seemed to have expected it, because Noah’s phone rang again almost instantly. Biting the inside of his cheek, he briefly considered turning it off entirely, pointedly ignoring that this little fiasco had ever happened. But knowing who was calling, he suspected that even if he did that, she’d find another way to contact him. He hesitated, fingers hovering over his phone, before taking a deep breath and begrudgingly accepting the call.
Upon picking up, Noah was greeted with nothing but the background noise of, what was it? An office? Workers seemed to be buzzing around, though Noah couldn’t make out what they were doing. Regardless, they were definitely busy. At six in the morning on a Saturday? Really?
After an awkward few seconds of silence, it became obvious that he was expected to start the conversation. It wasn’t like he owed the caller much kindness, though, so he grumbled, “What on earth do you think you’re doing?”
“Ah! Noah!” Blaineley’s awfully sharp voice crowed over the phone’s static, piercing Noah’s ears. He hadn’t heard from her in months, not since he had called her and asked her to take down some dumb article about him. He couldn’t say that he missed talking to her much. “You finally decided to pick up. Good on you!”
“It is six in the morning,” Noah hissed. The only positive about Blaineley calling was that he didn’t need to pretend to be happy to hear from her.
“And I need your help for something.”
If there was one thing about the former Celebrity Manhunt host, it was that she was nothing if not determined. She would do whatever it took to get her way and would stop at nothing to achieve that. Noah suspected the only reason she had made it far in this industry was through a mix of that and heavy amounts of blackmail, but who was he to judge?
“And my answer is absolutely not. Thanks for your time.”
His finger floated over the end call button, ready to put an end to this madness when Blaineley called out, “Noah! This is really important. You will not want to miss it.”
It definitely took a certain amount of talent to be this infuriating. Noah made a mental note to block her number. Trying to put as much venom as possible into his voice, he replied, “My answer will not change, and you can stop–”
“My documentary proposal finally got greenlit! I’m filming a documentary!”
Noah blinked, slightly perplexed. He tried to run through every possible scenario as to why that would warrant a call to him at an ungodly hour. When no reason came to mind, he simply shook his head and said, “Um, and this concerns me because…?”
“Ask me what it’s about.”
“What are you even–”
“Just ask me what it’s about.”
“Fine,” Noah laughed in disbelief, “I’ll humor you: what’s the documentary about?”
There was a dramatic pause, during which Noah considered hanging up, before Blaineley announced, “Total Drama.”
All of Noah’s thoughts came to a halt. “I’m sorry?”, he sputtered, mouth agape. He briefly wondered if this was all some weird dream, because there was no other reasonable explanation for Blaineley Stacey Andrews O’Halloran attempting to render Total Drama relevant again.
Blaineley stifled a laugh, clearly pleased with herself. “It’s about Total Drama, Noah! It’s my biggest project to date! I’m filming a long documentary about the rise of the franchise, with a focus on the first generation.”
Noah tried to wrap his mind around what on earth the implications were. “A documentary? Since when? Why? You’re–”
“It’s a huge deal, Noah,” Blaineley cut him off. “I have really impressive sponsors lined up. Like, really impressive. And I’m inviting the whole cast for a few weeks of filming, interviews, and other events. I wanted to have your confirmation that you’d be there, because let me make it clear: we expect you to be.”
Noah could only laugh in astonishment, shaking his head. By force of habit, he checked his room for cameras, half expecting this to be some weird, elaborate prank. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Not any more than I was when you last saw me,” Blaineley replied. Noah could practically hear her grinning over the phone.
He tried to grasp what Blaineley was saying. A documentary on Total Drama? What was she thinking? The cast hadn’t spent any time together since filming wrapped up, and for good reason. Sure, some of them were still friends, but as a collective, there was a silent agreement to no longer acknowledge their shared history of the show. The experience had only brought around trauma, sadness, and an acute awareness of how they were all perceived. It was common knowledge that their lives would, on the whole, be much better if the show had never made its way into them.
And now, Blaineley wanted them to do what? To sit around one another, talk about the “experience”, as if there wasn’t a lifetime of unaddressed wounds that dangled over them all? There were still people who refused to acknowledge that Total Drama had ever been a part of their lives, people who were irreparably broken as a result, and Blaineley expected this to go smoothly?
“You’re failing to consider that absolutely nobody is actually going to accept the invite,” Noah finally managed, voice croaking as his fingers curled around his phone. “You do realize that, right? We’ve all… we’ve all distanced ourselves from the realm of reality TV, or at the very least from Total Drama. There’s no point.”
Blaineley let out a low, inquisitive hum. “That’s really interesting, because I seem to recall that you went on a whole lot of reality TV shows after your time on Total Drama ended!”
Noah bit his tongue. She wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t about to admit to Blaineley, of all people, that he wasn’t fully over his little reality TV rodeo. As far as she was concerned, Noah was apathetic towards all that had happened on the show, and he’d rather that perception stayed. “I’m done with that, though. Finished. Forever. I’m not filming this. Find something else to waste your time on.”
“Oh, boo-hoo! Your little ‘better than this’ act is so pathetic, Noah. Drop it.”
Noah took a long breath, eager to move away from the topic of himself on TV. “Even if I wanted to help you with this – which, let me make it clear, I really, really do not – there are other people who would never accept to go. It’s doomed to fail. Spend your energy on something else. I’m serious.”
“There are other people who would never accept to go,” Blaineley mocked, with an annoyingly accurate imitation of Noah’s voice. Noah only pursed his lips in response, knowing he had nothing particularly nice to say. He briefly weighed the pros and cons of hanging up and blocking Blaineley forever. “What people, Noah? Who do you think is ‘definitely declining’ this?”
Noah swallowed. The main person that he could think of was Alejandro, but not a chance that Noah was about to get into the millions of reasons that he knew the show had done a number on the guy. That would involve acknowledging to someone that deep down, he still believed he had once somewhat known him, which was not a thought that Noah ever wanted to confront. Searching for an alternative, he cleared his throat and half-heartedly said, “Uh, Courtney, for one? I think she’s had enough Total Drama related trauma to last her a lifetime.”
Blaineley laughed smugly before Noah fully even finished speaking, almost as if she had expected this exact statement. “The Courtney I spoke to twenty minutes ago seemed to disagree. Isn’t that odd?”
“What?”
“Do you understand, Noah,” Blaineley cooed, “That Courtney, above anyone, is desperate to have her image recovered after everything? When I gave her the opportunity, she barely hesitated. She’ll be there.” She said those last few words as less of a fact and more of a threat.
“That’s…”
Blaineley’s statement held an alarming amount of truth. Noah knew, of course, how much work went on behind the scenes to make sure that everyone’s worst moments were twisted for the sake of “entertainment”. He knew that Courntey got the worst of it, too, and so it made sense, he supposed, that she was quick to agree to a chance at rekindling her image. But that didn’t make it any less unsettling to hear.
“What? People are going to do this, Noah, whether you like it or not.”
“You’re still not getting everyone,” he said, voice wavering. He was less sure of it now.
“Oh, I will, but humor me, who else do you think is, as you put it, ‘definitely not going’?”
“Um,” Noah could feel his throat go dry. Leaving as much emotion out of his voice as possible, he mumbled, “Alejandro, I guess. Can’t really see him being thrilled at the idea of talking to everyone about how he… lost.”
There was more to it, too. The Alejandro that Noah knew spent hours confiding to Noah about his dislike for the show and reality TV. How fake it encouraged everyone to be, how little gain there was from it. At the same time, he knew how important winning was to him, and how much it must have stung when he not only lost, but also ended up in a hospital for months after the finale. Noah struggled to see a world in which he would willingly return to talk about all of that.
But then again, that was the same Alejandro who had proceeded to return for All Stars, the same Alejandro who still continued living on in the world of celebrities and reality TV. At the end of the day, Noah didn’t know Alejandro: Alejandro himself had made sure of that.
Blaineley let out a dry laugh before taking a sip of some drink. Coffee, Noah assumed. It was the only way she could possibly have any energy at this hour. When she was done, she smacked her lips and said, “That’s really funny, actually, because I just got off the phone with his father, who seemed to be very optimistic about the chances that Alejandro would be starring in this documentary. Told me to expect an email within the next few hours.”
Noah clenched his fists, and then quickly proceeded to unclench them, because woah, an emotional reaction to Alejandro, of everyone, was way out of his nature. “His father? Blaineley, you can’t–”
“Oh, I absolutely can, and I did!”
Noah tried not to think about how much he knew that this would have hurt his ex-castmate. You don’t know the guy, he reminded himself. Everything about him was an act. Desperate for an out, Noah drew a sharp breath, mumbling, “If Alejandro is there, I’m not going anyways.”
Blaineley’s scoff definitely did not go unnoticed over the static of the phone. “Oh, get over yourself. It’s been three years, and you’re still salty that you got outplayed?”
“It’s not outplayed, it’s–” Noah stopped himself before he could say anything stupid. Dissecting the issues he had with Alejandro was not an activity for six in the morning with Blaineley, of all people. “I just don’t see the point in all of this. We’ve moved on.”
“Ha! Moved on! That’s funny. Have you seen the stuff your ex-castmates like online?”
“Um, I’m not a stalker. So no.”
“Most of them are still liking Total Drama related stuff to this day. I’m pretty sure Gwen literally did, like, not even half an hour ago.”
Noah pulled his bedcovers over his head, thinking that maybe if he tried hard enough, he could convince himself this was all some weird dream. “I could not care less. I have zero interest in keeping tabs on them all, because unlike you, I’m not a stalker. They can do whatever the hell they want.”
“You’re missing the point. I’m just saying, you all pretend to be so high and mighty and to have ‘moved on’, whatever that means, but in reality, you’re no better than one another, and none of you have gotten over your little Total Drama stint. I’m providing you with the opportunity to actually get closure, come onto somewhere where you can give both yourselves and the world the answers we all desire. And you get paid for it, Noah. Come on.”
Noah knew that the obvious decision was not to give into Blaineley’s clear manipulation, to snap at her to leave him alone, and to walk as far away as possible from the definite car crash that a reunion with the Total Drama cast would be, because it would be nothing short of awful. Twenty four people, each one their own flavour of messed up, all bound together by the overarching string of the show that had ruined them. Every time they interacted as a collective, it ended in tears, betrayal, and hurt. It was only the norm with them. Agreeing to see everyone again would open up old wounds, and knowing the cast, they would never let them heal, but rather make them fester more and more.
But Blaineley had a talent for making things only beneficial to her seem like they worked for everyone. She would gain a huge revenue from this, that much was obvious. What would everyone else get? Closure? Noah was never one to care about closure. Things happened, that was the way that life worked. You would meet people and fall apart eventually, and Noah was fine with that. He had to be, because there was no other way.
And yet, Noah would be lying if he said that the idea of closing off some stories with some people wasn’t the tiniest bit appealing to the tiniest part of him that cared about his long-forgotten relationships on the show. He wouldn’t name them, but there were a few people with whom he wouldn’t mind getting a proper ending.
Maybe that was why, before Noah could stop himself, he sighed and said, “Fine. I’ll do it.”
Blaineley laughed with glee, clearly not expecting Noah to give in this early. “You’re the best!” she squealed, and Noah could hear her call someone over, mumbling something he could only assume was a verbal confirmation of his attendance. After a minute, Blaineley must have remembered she was still on the phone, because she cleared her throat and chirped, “Legal will be in contact with you shortly to confirm contracts and all that, and I’m sending your agent a message as we speak!”
Noah’s grip on his phone tightened, still not quite believing what he’d gotten himself into. “You’re insane. You know that, right?”
“Why do you think I’m successful?” she quipped in response, not bothering to hide the smile in her voice.
It was probably the truth. You needed a certain level of insanity to make it big in the television industry. The world of celebrities was never a pleasant one, so far detached from the real world that it wasn’t really a part of it. To survive, you needed to either forget that you were a real person or forget that there was another world out there. Blaineley likely did both.
“Oh, by the way: a few things. First of all, I’ll have called everyone by midday today. Don’t speak to anyone about this until then, ‘kay?”
Noah pinched his nosebridge, hoping that he’d be put out of this misery and out of this conversation as quickly as possible. Eager to get her off his back, he just shrugged and grumbled, “I was planning on sleeping until then. Sure.”
Blaineley hummed in approval, her attention clearly not fully with Noah. He could hear her quickly type something, and he wondered when an appropriate time to hang up on her would be. Just when he was about to, she perked up. “Oh! By the way: when will Owen be awake? You’d know this, right? You live with him? I wouldn’t want to disturb him.”
“You had no problem with disturbing–” Noah started, before clicking his tongue. Not worth it. He scratched the back of his neck, sighing. “Um, probably in two hours. I think he has something in the morning.”
Blaineley tapped a few keys before letting out a satisfied sigh. “Great! Thanks, Noah. All details will be with you shortly. Toodles!”
She quickly hung up then, no doubt ready to harass some other unfortunate soul.
What an asshole.
Slowly, Noah put his phone down and stared at his ceiling. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear the buzz of the early morning Toronto traffic: people who, unlike Noah, had lives outside of reality television.
There really was no escape, huh.
A wave of realization suddenly hit Noah: he had just willingly signed up for weeks of interacting with some of the very people he swore to not speak to anymore.
That included Alejandro Burromuerto.
Alejandro Burromuerto was someone who had hurt Noah.
Noah had hurt him, too.
Maybe? Probably? If he had, it was only because Alejandro’s ego was too fragile to take being called out for being a liar, deceiver, and manipulator – which he was. Noah regretted nothing of what he said. He doubted that Alejandro regretted much, either.
Noah had no way of knowing what Alejandro thought, really. The two of them hadn’t spoken since London.
That could have been different if Noah had wanted it to be. It wasn’t like he had no way of contacting Alejandro. Social media existed, and Noah was pretty sure that he’d be able to get his number just by asking around.
But it wasn’t like Alejandro had made any efforts to contact Noah, either. Almost three years had passed and there hadn’t been a single acknowledgement that the two of them had ever known one another, much less that they’d pretended to be friends.
Because that’s all it was, wasn't it? Two people pretending to like one another to prevent each other from going insane. Their sanity was hanging on by a thin thread, and briefly, they held each other up, talking and talking for hours on end because they needed to talk to someone, and it wasn’t like anyone else on that plane was going to offer them a better alternative. They became “friends” because they had no other options. It didn’t particularly matter that their friendship felt real, because it was reality TV, which meant that it wasn’t.
Sure, Noah was still angry at Alejandro, but he didn’t even know what he was angry at him for. Was it that he had voted him off? Or was that inevitable, given the fact that they had met on reality TV, and were always going to be obstacles in each other’s way? Was Noah annoyed that Alejandro had pretended to be friends with him? Because God, he was good at it.
Noah remembered how the two of them would spend all night talking about their pasts, their families, their hopes for the future. They had gotten to know one another, or so Noah had thought.
Noah knew about Alejandro’s family and how hard it was to live up to the Burromuerto name. He knew all about José and how his relationship with Alejandro had slowly started crumbling, piece by piece, until Alejandro was left alone in its debris. Noah knew exactly how in spite of it all, Alejandro picked himself up and forced himself to become the person who he was now.
Alejandro knew Noah, too. He knew how cold Noah would get and would always silently give him an extra sweater during the night or sneak him warm food from first class without saying a word. He knew how to make Noah laugh and would always sneak him a look whenever someone made a stupid remark, which was often when you’re stuck on a plane full of idiots.
Alejandro knew Noah, and Noah thought he knew Alejandro.
How strange was it that after all of that, they’d walked out as strangers in the end.
And worse: strangers by choice. Because it wasn’t like Alejandro had ghosted everyone. Noah knew that he still spoke to a handful of their ex-castmates: the apathy was mainly reserved towards Noah.
That was probably what had hurt the most: not once, but twice, had Noah overestimated his friendship with Alejandro: once during the show, and once again after it had all ended. Alejandro had shown him exactly who he was, and Noah still expected things to go differently.
The worst part of it all was that the remnants of their so-called “friendship” still existed in Noah’s life. One was within reach from him.
Sighing, he turned towards his bedside table, the one part of his room where he stuffed anything he couldn’t be bothered to organize. He rummaged through endless pieces of papers, old exams, train tickets, paperclips until his fingertips felt the glossy finish of a polaroid.
Hands shaking, Noah took the polaroid out of his drawer, not quite daring to take a proper look at it. Eventually, he did, and found himself looking at an old photo of himself and Alejandro.
He drew in a long breath.
Noah had taught himself to stop caring quite easily. When your personality broadcasted for the entire world to see is a withdrawn one, it becomes easy to adapt to that mold. As far as everyone knew, Noah was indifferent to just about anything. It was an easy idea to conform to. So, he’d avoided the fact that he and Alejandro had ever interacted, for both of their sakes.
It was easy to avoid something when it wasn’t staring you right in the face.
Unfortunately for Noah, Alejandro (a crumpled, faded, old photo of Alejandro, but still Alejandro) was smiling back at him, making it hard to dance around any thoughts about the guy.
Noah still remembered the day the photo was taken.
They had just finished the Yukon challenge and the entire cast was freezing, with the filming crew not bothering to offer any of them any help. It’s out of our hands, sorry guys, they had said, looking around guiltily. Team Amazon, at the very least, got to heat up in first class. Noah had to go back to the barely functioning economy class without any heating.
Apparently, he was still noticeably shivering later on in the night, even hours after Team Victory’s elimination ceremony, because Alejandro had smirked at him while everyone else was asleep.
“Still cold, are you?” he laughed, his voice a low rasp.
“Only a… only a bit,” Noah replied through shivers, not very convincingly.
Alejandro raised an eyebrow, hiding a smile, and walked away.
Noah had just shrugged, not thinking anything of it – that was until Alejandro came back with a blanket and soup in hand, hiding something else in his pocket.
“Fresh from first class,” Alejandro whispered, discreetly handing both to Noah, who just stared at him, eyebrows raised. “It was very easy to get them. You’re welcome.”
“I am not your charity case,” Noah hissed in response, ignoring the glowing feeling in his chest.
“That doesn’t sound like a thank you to me?” Alejandro said, eyes narrowing in on Noah, a half smile escaping his lips as he placed the blanket over his shoulders.
“Yeah, whatever. Thanks,” Noah mumbled, looking elsewhere.
“Besides, you aren’t my charity case, you are my friend. God forbid I do nice things for you.”
Noah would soon learn, of course, that none of these words, nor actions, meant anything to Alejandro, just another lie in a pile of lies for his own benefit. It was so easy to fall into Alejandro’s trap, and Noah was acutely aware of it, but a small part of him thought that maybe he was the exception, the one person who Alejandro was genuine with. What an idiot. Alejandro made no exceptions.
He didn’t know that at the time though. Or, more correctly – if he had known, he chose to ignore it, instead opting to embrace the warmth that came with Alejandro’s friendship. Because no matter how much he tried to deny it later down the line, it was warm then.
The two of them sat in silence then until Noah noticed the bulk in Alejandro’s pocket.
“What on earth did you take from first class that you’re hiding, Alejandro?” Noah teased. He had expected Alejandro to brush it off and come up with an excuse, but to his surprise, he pulled out a polaroid camera, excitement written all over his face.
“It’s a camera! I found it on the floor in first class. I think it might belong to Chris,” Alejandro smiled coyly. “I figured that a stolen camera is only a small fraction of what he makes us go through on a daily basis.”
He handed the camera to Noah then, who took one look at it before bursting into laughter. Alejandro shot him a quizzical look, to which Noah responded, in between giggles, “Dude, that’s Sierra’s polaroid she always carries around with her to document everything. I can’t believe you didn’t notice!”
The look on Alejandro’s face was priceless. He looked mortified, which is never a look that he allowed himself to have. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Finally, fighting back a smile, he mumbled, “I didn’t– oh God, she’s going to kill me!”
“Bring it back to her before she notices,” Noah shrugged. “Or hide it in someone else’s bag. Direct her anger at them.”
Alejandro considered this for a few seconds, but eventually shook his head. “That’s… a great idea, but there’s nobody here who I could genuinely blame it on. Tyler, DJ, and Owen are too sincere. Izzy wouldn’t care enough to, and even if she did, Sierra has nothing on her. Lindsay would never be able to pull it off. And I don’t particularly feel like getting you sent home, not yet at least.” He’d said that last bit so effortlessly, so naturally, as if he truly believed it. Noah, like the fool he was, believed him too.
“Wow, thanks for the consideration.” Noah replied sarcastically, the only way he knew. “Just go bring it back now. Better to avoid Sierra’s wrath.”
Alejandro gave Noah a sly look, an unmistakable glint of mischief in his emerald eyes. “We should at the very least make some use of it, no?”
Noah raised an eyebrow at him. “What?”
“You know exactly what I mean. Smile!”
Alejandro had thrown an arm around Noah then, pointing the camera at the two of them. Noah’s gut reaction was to roll his eyes. The photo came out, and it looked about as expected: ridiculous. When it had finished proofing, Alejandro glanced over and started laughing.
“You could have at least tried to make it seem like you wanted to be here, no?” he shook his head, smiling. He looked at the photo for longer, and his grin only widened. It was a look of affection that he reserved for whenever the cameras weren’t rolling, but one that Noah had seen quite a lot of. Handing Noah the photo, he said, “Here, keep it. You’ll have a constant reminder of your great time with your great friend Alejandro.”
“I’ll remember him as the most humble person ever, that’s for sure,” Noah responded flatly, but begrudgingly accepted the photo, shoving it into his back pocket.
He didn’t throw it out.
He probably should have thrown it out when he started realising Alejandro was manipulating him.
And again when he and Alejandro had their little argument in London.
And yet again when Alejandro had gotten him voted off.
He didn’t, though. Not one of these times.
Instead, when he had gotten thrown off the plane and into the stupid lake full of electric eels, the first thing he did was check his back pocket to make sure the photo was still there.
Glancing down at the photo now, Noah expected to be filled with anger, seeing Alejandro act genuine, which was probably the only word which couldn’t be used to describe him, acting as if anything they ever did meant anything to him. But instead of angry, he felt weirdly wistful.
The photo was really stupid – the two of them stuck in economy class together, Alejandro huddled up close to Noah, a big smile on his face. His eyes were warm, devoid of any calculation. He almost seemed relaxed, able to forget about the game briefly. At that moment, even if it was only for a split second, the two of them were simply Alejandro and Noah rather than the manipulator and the manipulated.
That all fell apart quickly, and now, Noah would have to see him again. It would be a lie to say that he hadn’t imagined a reunion between the two of them (only ever as a passing thought), but he’d always thought it would be on one of their own terms (preferably Alejandro’s), not something that was forced to happen by the hand of Blaineley, of all people.
Maybe it was for the best, though. They’d be able to speak to one another once, finally verbally acknowledge that they were never friends, and close off that chapter of their lives once and for all.
That would be satisfactory, and it would have to do. Because the very last thing that Noah wanted was to slip into yet another variation of the fake notion of their friendship. He wouldn’t be fooled twice, under any circumstances. Once had been embarrassing enough.
It was on that note that Noah fell asleep, gripping tightly onto his pillow. He dreamt about a life without Total Drama, and how different things could have been.
Noah woke up the next morning with a sinking feeling in his stomach before he could quite remember why. It took about three seconds for last night’s events to hit him like a pile of bricks. I’m actually going to see everyone again. What the fuck.
Rubbing his eyes, Noah sat up, not quite yet willing to open himself up to the world just yet. He was about to pick up his phone before remembering that there were probably hundreds of messages from his old castmates waiting for him there. Not only that, but probably Blaineley’s full contract, too. Nope. Not dealing with that now.
Instead, he slowly got out of bed, only to find the stupid photo of himself and Alejandro on his bedside table. He cringed, reminding himself that the people he starts acting nostalgic for when he’s sleep deprived are always embarrassing and mean nothing. He’s pretty sure he’s thought about Heather when low on sleep, and Noah definitely did not need her in his life.
She’s about to be. They all are. Isn’t that great?
On that cheerful note, Noah stuffed the polaroid at the bottom of his drawer, hopefully never to be seen again.
Noah opened his curtains, letting the warm sun hit his skin. It must have been past midday already. Outside, people were walking, bustling, moving on with their lives. An old couple was sitting, eating lunch at the next door deli. Passing by them then was a busy looking man, probably rushing to a meeting. He was on the phone with someone, voice stressed as he bumped into a woman who was smoking a cigarette. The two of them proceeded to argue for a couple of minutes.
It was all so mundane, so real, and something that Noah could only ever dream of attaining. He could only hope to find himself immersed in the real world again some day, far away from the trenches of Total Drama. Given what he’s just signed up for, it’s unlikely to be soon.
Sighing, he realized that as much as he could avoid some of his castmates’ text messages, he couldn't avoid Owen forever, and began making his way towards the kitchen.
Owen was standing at the kitchen counter, anxiously mixing cake batter while mumbling to himself. A stress baker, he was. Noah knew as much. When he noticed Noah, his eyes widened, and he opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it again. Eventually, he put down his mixer, threw his hands up, and laughed. “Can you believe it?”
“Believe what?” Noah asked incredulously. He figured that a few seconds of joking around wouldn’t hurt.
Owen’s face turned white, almost as if he had seen a ghost. “Has… has Blaineley not called you?”
Noah considered dragging it on for longer, but decided that Owen was one of the few people who didn’t deserve having the topic danced around. “I’m just messing with you,” he grinned, leaning down for some coffee in the pantry. “She called me alright. At six in the morning, too. What an asshole.”
Owen nodded carefully, then slid Noah a mug. “I made you coffee already! Only a few minutes ago. It’s still warm.”
Noah shot him a grateful look and took a sip, ignoring the anxious glances Owen was sending his way. He should definitely say something, but he wasn’t one to start hard conversations. It didn’t take long for Owen to speak up, clearly no longer able to handle the silence. “What do you… think?”
Noah smacked his lips, shaking his head. “That this is going to end absolutely awfully for everyone involved, and that I can’t believe we’re about to spend weeks around everyone again.”
Owen twiddled his thumbs, looking guiltily at Noah. “Is it bad that I’m kinda excited?”
“Nah, I’d expect you to be,” Noah shrugged. “I, on the other hand, am absolutely dreading facing some of these people again.”
“Like Justin? ‘Cause you did not seem to be a fan of his when we spoke last night.”
Noah considered how to answer this as honestly as possible. “… Amongst others, yes.”
Owen gave him a knowing look. Noah dreaded what he was about to say. Those fears were confirmed when Owen murmured, “And like Alejandro?”
Noah looked away, shrugging as he could feel his face flush. Alejandro was usually a forbidden topic under Noah and Owen's roof, mostly for Noah’s sanity. His silence was probably enough of a response for Owen, who added, “I’m sure it’ll turn out fine! Who knows, maybe you two can be friends again.”
Noah let out a bitter laugh. “That,” he objected, “Is never happening, because I really don’t want it to. I never liked the guy. It’ll just be weird to face him again.”
Owen opened his mouth to speak, but whatever he had to say was rendered useless when he snapped his fingers, suddenly recalling something else. “Do you remember,” he asked slowly, grinning, “What your fortune said last night?”
So many things had happened since then. Noah shook his head, trying to remember to the best of his abilities, and began, “Um, something like ‘people from your past wait for you–’” he stopped dead in his tracks, laughing in disbelief. “Okay, no, that doesn’t mean anything–”
Owen was just grinning, excitedly staring at Noah. “I’m just saying! You called it bullshit, but… I think it accurately predicted this!”
Noah chewed on the inside of his lip. He didn’t particularly want to give any more power to the concept of fate. As far as he was concerned, his had been sealed when he stepped onto the boardwalk all of those years ago, ready to film the first season of Total Drama. No amount of fortunes would undo that. “It’s a coincidence, that’s it. A funny one, but a coincidence nonetheless. There’s no deeper meaning to it, so let’s not try to create any.”
Owen just shrugged, his smile not leaving his lips. “Hey, maybe this was all written in the stars, and things will turn out for the better between us all. Oh, it’s my dream to have a happy cast reunion.”
Despite himself, Noah snorted. Unable to resist his pessimism, he added, “Or maybe we’ll all stumble into something much, much worse.”