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Chapter Text

FIONA

Four nights in a row.

That's how many times she'd appeared in her dreams and that was the number that made Fiona Coyne question her ability to lock the memory of that woman away into the depths of her mind. At night, when she'd wake up in sweats, with a fierce pounding in her heart and a state of confusion as to why she'd been having those dreams, she would stay up and design fashion.

It started the day Fiona had finalized a new apartment and her plans to move back to Toronto. She'd gotten her best friend Eli Goldsworthy and his wife Clare Edwards to scope out the place before she signed off on it and the night after approving, her first dream occurred. It was short, and vague but still bizarre like any good dream. Nonetheless, it baffled Fiona how she could be dreaming about someone she hadn't seen or talked to in over five years.

"Maybe it wasn't her, maybe I just made up a random woman in my head."

Fiona sat across from Eli and Clare in a booth at the local Italian restaurant, attending to a plate of cheesy pasta and garlic breadsticks. She had just arrived back in Toronto that afternoon, picked up from the airport by her married friends.

Eli took a small sip of his water before it clanked down against the glass table.

"But isn't it a thing where when we dream, we can't physically make up a random person in our head?" Eli discussed, looking across at Fiona with a slight scrunch of his brows.

Fiona shifted her eyes to Clare who wore a tiny smirk before pausing to think about her friend's words. She set her fork down, turning her head to observe the other people in the restaurant. She tuned out the classical music that played throughout and she focused on a lesbian couple with their messy baby whom they were trying to take a photo of. They giggled and showed each other the photos they took on their phones, their smiles couldn't be contained. Fiona found herself putting on grin and a sudden surge of sadness washed over her. Fiona thought by now she'd be settled and with a woman she'd spend the rest of her life with. Yes, she was still young at twenty-four, but after many failed relationships she longed for stability.

Fiona's trance was broken by the clearing of Eli's throat so she snapped her head back and regained consciousness to the real world.

"What?" Fiona asked, feeling the eyes of Eli and Clare staring her down. She put an elbow on the table to prop her head up with her hand on her cheek. When she looked down at the pasta, her stomach churned and her taste buds felt burned.

Eli chuckled. "You zoned out."'

The couple's baby started to cry which almost distracted Fiona again and the surge of new customers arriving at the restaurant made the place noisy and headache inducing.

"Sorry, what were we talking about?" Fiona twitched her eyelashes a few times in a row.

"The dreams you've been having lately," Clare reminded, dabbing her lips with a napkin.

Fiona's dreams flooded her mind again and suddenly she was very aware of the cracked leather seating of the booth she sat at. She squirmed against the leather, crossing her legs and uncrossing them, before finally settling.

"Can we talk about something else?" Fiona pleaded, rummaging the fork around her pasta making it all one mush.

Fiona sighed, staring down at her pasta before she took a deathly stab at her salad, briefly sending a jolt through the table.

Eli exchanged a glance with Clare.

"So, how's your business going?" Clare asked Fiona, sensing her friend's tension as she took a delicate bite of Bruschetta.

"Yeah, isn't it launching soon?" Eli added, his curiosity perked.

Fiona lifted her head, life reappeared in her blue eyes followed by a proud smile.

"So soon!" Fiona clapped her hands together, now widened her smile so her teeth peered through her lips. "Which is why I'm back in Toronto just in time for the launch."

Eli flashed his signature smirk-smile while his wife of two years grinned. The tension and awkwardness of the previous discussion vanished as the trio dove right into a new topic.

"Ooh, and you're showcasing it at the Degrassi Alumni Gala right?" Clare said after taking a tender sip of her water.

Fiona nodded with a smile. "Absolutely and I cannot wait."

Fiona picked up the fork and loaded pasta on it before she stuffed her mouth, washing it down with a large gulp of water.

Eli raised both brows as he locked a glance at Fiona. "You know who's going to be there, right?"

Mid another loaded bite, Fiona replied, "You and Clare obviously and I think Drew and Bianca too and—"

"And Imogen," Eli added.

Fiona's jaw froze all while she still had a mouth full of noodles.

"Shit, seriously?" Her words barley escaping her mouth due to the food.

Eli nodded. "She went to Degrassi too you know?"

"She did? I had no idea." Fiona rolled her eyes.

"More water?" A young waiter showed up, holding a pitcher.

Fiona whipped her head in the direction of the voice. "Huh? What?"

"Would you like some more water?" asked the waiter again.

Fiona swallowed down the food. "Yes sorry. Yes please."

The waiter reached over and began to fill up the glass as Fiona sat back and awkwardly waited for him to finish.

"What happened with you two anyway?" Clare asked once the waiter left. "I thought you two still talked when you left for Italy?"

Fiona's eyes focused on the waiter leaving and once he disappeared behind a corner, she leaned back against the booth, folding her arms across her chest.

"We did, for like the first few weeks, but then I guess we both got busy, and it stopped. No texts, letters emails. Just like that, we didn't talk anymore and we haven't talked since."

Clare softened her eyes and she spoke gently. "Not at all?"

Fiona shrugged. "She likes my posts and I see her view my stories online, but she won't message me."

"Have you tried messaging her?" Eli wondered.

"Hell no! Why would I do that?"

"Then how can you expect her to message you if you haven't either?" Clare pointed out.

Fiona uncrossed her arms, leaning forward. "Why are we even talking about this, I don't care and besides, she broke up with me anyway."

"I don't know," Eli smirked. "Sounds like to me you do care."

"Shut the hell up, I don't care," Fiona fought back, falling against the booth again. "I'll just try my best to avoid her at the gala."

"She will be showcasing her work there too. It'll be pretty hard to avoid her," Clare told Fiona with genuine care in her voice.

"Crap," was all Fiona could spit out and soon the lunch had finished and she found herself hugging Eli and Clare goodbye.

On the cab ride to her new apartment, Fiona powered her phone for what she wanted to be a quick scroll on Instagram. But with the curse that was social media and technology, her thumbs found their way to Imogen's account and before she was consciously aware, she'd scrolled far down to three years ago. With a slip of her finger, she clicked "heart" on a picture of Imogen...from THREE years ago...on the beach, in a bikini.

Fiona's heart dropped down to her stomach and a tsunami of panic drowned her.

"Shit! Crap! Dammit!" Fiona scrambled to exit the app, but what had been done was far too late.

"Everything okay back there Miss?" The driver asked, taking a peek at her in the rearview mirror.

Fiona chewed at her thumbnail after she'd quickly shut off the phone, shoving into her purse. She ignored the driver completely and looked out the window with a fierce sense of frustration and anger mixed into one uncomfortable smoothie. Throughout the whole drive, she sat in those uncomfortable feelings and now she was anxious about the gala for the first time, and not with excitement like before.

"Thanks, I got it," Fiona said to the driver, hauling her suitcases out of the trunk of the cab parked in front of the apartment building She thanked him again and gave him a generous tip.

"Dammit Fiona, you just had to stalk her Instagram didn't you?" she spoke out loud to herself as she hauled her luggage through the apartment and up the elevator.

"Crap, and now she's going to see that I liked a photo from three years ago and think I'm some creepy stalker."

Fiona pressed the number two on the keypad and as she waited to be lifted to her floor, she shut her eyes and attempted to slow her breathing. Breathe Fiona, it's just a stupid Instagram post. You'll just avoid her at the gala and you'll never have to see her again.

Ding.

The elevator popped open to her floor and she rolled her luggage down the hall and strutted down with confidence, her long black trench-like coat swaying along with her and a designer purse slung around one arm. The floors of the hallway were cracked, dirty and the all the doors looked a hundred years old. The light above her head flickered and nearly went out. Certainly not as lavish as Fiona's old loft during high school, but it would do, with it being a last minute decision moving back to Toronto and all.

Fiona shook her head, shaking away the memories of her old loft. She fished out her new apartment key from her coat pocket, letting out a long, angst filled breath as she put the key in the lock.

"Are you serious? What the hell!" Fiona cried out, jiggling the key that was now stuck.

As she aggressively shook the key in hopes of forcing it out, the door across from her's opened. A tender but also timid voice appeared out of nowhere sending a shock from Fiona's head all the way down to her black heeled boots.

"Fiona Coyne?"

Chapter Text

IMOGEN

"Orders up!" Spinner Mason, owner of the new restaurant/bar in town called out behind the counter, dressed in an apron.

The ding of the bell and his deep voice jolted Imogen Moreno out of the intense focus she had on the laptop screen in front of her with Photoshop open. She was a regular customer at Spinner's restaurant and as a fellow Degrassi Alumni, it was like a right of passage to eat there. Once a week, Imogen would run into at least one Degrassi Graduate, whether a close friend or acquaintance. The place was quaint and cozy, but a bit bigger than The Dot cafe. There were a few booths, round tables for two, and a bar area with stools and a tap system paired with various types of alcohol.

Imogen didn't order a full meal every week, most days she came in the morning hours when it was less busy and less noisy where she could get work done. She'd come quite acquainted with Spinner that before she arrived, a cup of fresh coffee waited for her. The weekends were the busiest for the restaurant and the bar thrived. Every Friday evening there were live bands and open mic nights and on Saturdays, the tables and chairs would clear for a DJ, lights, and a full club setting. Imogen had her share of "wild nights" spent at Spinner's Space.

Friday's peak brunch hour, a crowd pulled in for Spinner's famous mimosas paired with a savory breakfast sandwich. Imogen had been focused on editing pictures from a recent photoshoot of the Goldsworthy's and their baby girl when the sounds of the grill, the restaurant goers chatter, and the voice of Spinner became a nuisance to her work. Lately, it seemed like Imogen could never focus on any of her creative endeavors. When she'd sit down to work on an art piece-canvas, or sketchbook ready, she'd get a mental block and inspiration wiped from her brain and if she did get a sliver of an idea, she'd spill the paint water or spill her coffee all over the pages and it send Imogen in a spiral of frustration and she'd give up.

When Eli graced her with the opportunity to take a one-year-old photoshoot of his and Clare's child, she thought what a perfect chance to get her passion for art back to the surface. Also, the good lump sum of money Eli offered to pay Imogen helped ignite motivation for the new project. The shoot went smoothly— the Goldsworthy's had a beautiful backyard and their daughter photographed very well. Imogen then brought her laptop to the restaurant to get to work on the editing.

On her third cup of coffee, she was still working on the first photo—stuck on how to get the perfect balance of editing so the colors popped out, but not doing too much so it didn't look saturated. And now with all the background noises crowding her brain, her concentration and frankly her motivation to continue left Imogen frustrated. She collected her things, thanked Spinner by emptying her wallets with the last of her dollar bills, and headed out, back to the comfort of her apartment.

Going inside, Imogen was met with dirty dishes splayed out on the kitchen counters, a left-out milk carton with a moldy avocado sitting to rot nearby. Undressing her jean jacket, she sighed at the state of the place, clanking her keys on the countertop. Her eyes caught a crumpled hockey jersey having its home on the armrest of the two-seater couch. Imogen grumbled underneath, a curse word or two may have slipped out as she picked up the dirty clothing item to put in the basket in the bedroom.

Expecting to come home and relax, now Imogen had the urge to clean the whole place. Instead of complaining, she brought out the Bluetooth speaker and put on a nostalgic playlist that took her back to high school. She started with the kitchen, washing dishes, and tossing expired food. She danced around the round dining table fit for two, singing out the words of Carly Rae Jepson.

"Hey, I just met you..."

She took the milk carton, gave it a sniff and the sour stench scrunched her nose and gagged her throat. That's trashed.

"And this is crazy..."

She wiped down the counter and table.

"But here's my number..."

She went to the bedroom, gathering a pile of dirty laundry into a hamper.

"So call me maybe."

She picked up her keys with a free hand, the laundry hamper tucked under her arm.

"You took your time with the call..."

Carly Rae Jepson's voice continued to play then faded as Imogen went to the door, fumbling the keys and balancing a load of laundry. She finally managed to open the door but with a big struggle. And when Imogen lifted her head, her eyes fell on a head of long, brunette hair wearing a long black coat, and matching black boots and though she only could see her from behind, Imogen could recognize that woman from miles away.

"Fiona Coyne?" Imogen just barely had enough breath to spit out her name.

The woman, the fashionable New Yorker, her ex-girlfriend, and the one she used to call her soulmate turned around by the mention of her name. Imogen's brown spectacled eyes zoned in on Fiona's deep blue eyes, and they both stood on their ends of the hallways, voiceless and wordless.

The Fiona Coyne is standing in front of me in my apartment hallway.

Imogen swallowed a deep lump in her throat and now the strength of her forearm trying to hold up the laundry basket began to weaken. She hadn't seen or talked to Fiona in years, so the shock of her appearing before made Imogen lose her voice. But if she didn't say more, it'd be a lot more awkward. Thankfully, Fiona broke the silence first.

"Imogen," Fiona greeted with a timid smile and a nod.

A small part of Imogen was disappointed she hadn't used her nickname.

"Wow what is The Fiona Coyne doing in a dingy old place like this?" Imogen asked, gesturing her head at the broken ceiling lamp and the cracked flooring with the laundry basket still in tow, but now being held with both hands.

Fiona, with her perfect windswept waves, and dimpled grin carried herself so gracefully. With a hand placed casually in the pocket of her coat, her words slipped effortlessly off her tongue like she'd been prepared for such questions from her ex all day.

"I actually just moved back here," Fiona announced garnering a surprised eyebrow raised from Imogen. "And as for this place? It was my choice."

Fiona looked around the hallway, her head tilted to the ceiling, then back down, but her eyes refrained from meeting Imogen's again.

"I've decided to live a more minimalist lifestyle. My whole life has been filled with lavish homes, materialistic possessions, and going from one place to the next. I am ready to settle down."

Fiona Coyne settle down?

"So, I guess that means we're neighbors then huh?" Imogen found the corners of her mouth twitching up in amusement as she readjusted her hold on the basket.

Fiona licked her bottom lip, an unconscious habit she had before speaking that used to endear Imogen when they were in high school.

"I guess we are. What are the odds eh?" Fiona displayed a smile, but one that Imogen could feel was forced, or at least not one without some fake feelings behind it.

What are the chances she'd begun listening to nostalgic songs and then her high school ex shows up years later? Certainly a weird coincidence.

"Looks like I'll be seeing a lot more of you then?" Imogen asked, but more rhetorically. Of course, she'd be seeing Fiona plenty if they were literally across the hall from each other.

"Who knows, I could be spending most of my days in the office. You may barely see me at all."

Hmm, so Miss Coyne has her own office now?

"Bummer," Imogen joked. "I was so looking forward to seeing my ex every single morning."

For a brief moment, the exes stared at each other before Fiona came to the rescue again.

Ugh, she was always so good and initiating.

"I'll see you later Imogen."

Fiona with all her coolness and confidence, swiftly opened her apartment and disappeared, much like that fateful graduation day.

Bye, Fiona...nice to see you again.

Imogen so desperately wished she'd had the courage to say those words to Fiona.

…

In the apartment complex's laundry room, there are two sets of washers and dryers, but it still cost money to do a load. When Imogen fished around her pockets and wallet for spare change, she remembered that she'd emptied her wallet at the restaurant for Spinner's tip.

"Dammit!"

Imogen left the laundry room in a huff, power walking down the hall back to her place. She slammed the basket on the couch, giving up and she instead grabbed her phone to call her best friend.

"Dude, you'll never guess who I just ran into," Imogen flopped on the couch, legs all curled up.

"Fiona?" Eli said.

"What the heck? Are you psychic now? How did you know?"

"Clare and I just had lunch with her." Eli chuckled. "We picked her up from the airport."

"And you didn't think to tell me?!" Imogen now flung off the couch, making rounds around the small dining table.

"Okay woah, chill," Eli said. "I didn't think you'd care to know. You don't ever talk. You may as well be strangers."

"Not for long," Imogen said. "She's moved in across the hall."

"Damn. An ex living that close?" Eli amused. "If that were me, I'd have to move out."

Imogen pinched the bridge of her nose under her glasses. "You know that's not a possibility for me right now."

"I'm sorry Imo. I don't know what to say."

Imogen sighed, stopping her footing in the middle of the kitchen. "You don't have to say anything. I can handle myself."

"And it's not like it matters right? You've moved on, you're happy."

"Yeah, the happiest I've been..."

Imogene's eyes wandered around her place with an old fridge model, a dirty oven, a used couch, and peeling paint on the walls. Not the ideal apartment she expected to have at twenty-three years old. Sometimes she'd wondered about the life she would have had if she went off to Europe with Fiona.

"You seem happy," Eli said, breaking Imogen's thoughts. "And that makes me happy friend."

"Thank you, Eli." Imogen genuinely smiled.

"Say hi to my favorite girl for me."

"Will do. She's napping at the moment, but maybe you can FaceTime her later."

"Sounds good. Talk to you later Eli."

Imogen ended the call but not without a sense of emptiness and envy for those around her who had their life together. They had marriages, kids, and amazing jobs while Imogen couldn't even edit a simple photoshoot without obstacles discouraging her. And now with Fiona across the hall, a surge of nostalgia and buried emotions of her past mistakes came flooding in.

With the Degrassi Alumni Gala coming up in two days, and now one Fiona Coyne across the hall, life was about to get a hell of a lot more interesting.

Chapter Text

FIONA

In the bed of the truck, they lay on a soft wool blanket with plump pillows to support their heads which leaned against one another. Their legs sprawled out, socked-covered feet brushing up together as their eyes fixed on the midnight sky—twinkling stars captivated their attention for it was star gazing that her girlfriend enjoyed.

When she wiggled away a bit for a clear view of the girl beside herself, her eyes wandered away from the sky till they landed on the beauty that was of tan complexion, wispy loose hair strands, and lips softer than the blanket beneath their bodies.

“Imogen.” She said her girlfriend’s name delicately.

And just like that, she peaked her attention away from the beautiful night sky.

“Yeah, Fiones?” Her brown eyes fixated on the blue ones and those lips curled into a comforting smile.

“Do you think will be forever?” The question slipped out before she could process even an answer for herself.

“I’m not sure Fiones. What’s got you thinking about that?”

“Dunno. With graduation in two weeks, it’s got me thinking about us.”

Now she put her eyes back on the stars. She tried counting them to calm her increasing heartbeat and locked up her throat.

“Fiones, listen.”

A soft hand grabbed her’s and the ten fingers intertwined in a familiar and safe hold. She could feel herself breathing normally again.

“We shouldn’t dwell on the future yet. I am content, right now with you.”

Back we’re their heads touching.

Squeeze.

Their palms meshed, fingers stayed locked tight and she brought their hands up to rest against her stomach.

“Okay, Immy. I won’t think about it.”

She fit her head between her girlfriend’s shoulder and neck.

“But will you answer one thing?”

“Anything.”

“Will you just be my forever right here at this moment?”

“Sure Fiones. I’ll be your forever, right now...”

Fiona flopped around in the bed, shifting from side to side, and eventually ripped away the blanket. With her brain wide awake now, she didn’t want to try and force herself to fall back asleep so she sat upright.

There were those dreams again. But this time, it was clear who she visualized. As matter a of fact, she’d recalled an actual memory—a memory that had been buried in the depths of her mind, until that night. It had to be because she’d run into Imogen and the shock of it all caused their history and the moments to resurface into the better part of her mind.

“Ugh, I don’t need this right now,” Fiona gripped, stringing fingers through her scalp.

She climbed out of bed, flicked on the lights, and moved to the kitchen/living room. She sat with herself, a big sketchbook open to her latest clothing designs. Eyeing the pencil work and the intricate details, Fiona flipped through the pages admiring her work and anticipated her display at the Gala. Many Degrassi Graduates were donating artwork, products, and their time for an auction which would help fund the current student's school trip. Fiona was proud to showcase her passion and hard work to the graduates, current students, and staff.

The downside, and frankly what Fiona wasn’t looking forward to about this event is having to be at the same place as Imogen for long hours. She wanted to avoid Imogen when she decided to move back to Toronto, but of course, now she was living across the hall, so avoiding her ex was damn near impossible.

Fiona’s first night in her new apartment, became one with a large pot of coffee, and reality television reruns in the background while she scrolled through FaceRange. She absentmindedly clicked past family photos, baby photos, and food before her eyes refocused on a picture of Imogen posed with baby Goldsworthy.

“Ari loves her Aunty Imogen.”

The caption read, posted by Clare.

Fiona’s eyes trained on Imogen with round glass, long brunette hair half up, half down, and that signature toothy smile. Imogen held baby Ari close so their cheeks squished together and her face glowed with happiness. Gosh, even Fiona couldn’t deny that Imogen had grown to be even more beautiful than in high school, if that was even possible because Fiona had known Imogen to be the most beautiful girl in the world.

“I have to try to sleep,” Fiona said, closing the laptop and treating back to the room.

“I just hope I don’t dream about her again.”

…

The next morning, on her way to the new office, Fiona dressed in her long black coat again (it was her favorite) noticed a crumpled clothing item sitting by Imogen’s door. Upon a closer look, she’d seen it was a pretty laced bra.

“This is just my luck, isn’t it?”

Fiona bent down to pick it up in front of the door, then before knocking, she gathered a deep breath. A few moments later, the door swung open, but not to a woman with brown hair and glasses, but to a man, shirtless with tired eyes.

“Oh, um, I thought you’d be Imogen,” Fiona said, with a look of panic and fear. She was certain this was the apartment Imogen had come out of the day before.

The man rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “Sorry, I’m not a morning person,” he said with a raspy voice. “Do I know you?”

Fiona tucked hair behind her ear, while she held onto her exes undergarment far longer than she wanted.

“You don’t,” she answered. “I just found this on the floor and wanted to return it to Imogen.”

“You a friend of her’s?” He yawned.

“Yeah—I mean no…not really…I just—“

Fiona awkwardly held out the bra for him.

“Here, she must have dropped this on the way to the laundry room.”

“Shit, sorry she’s always doing that.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and scrunched his nose out of what Fiona assumed was annoyance.

“She can be in her own world sometimes,” he said, rubbing his eyes.

A memory of Imogen daydreaming popped into Fiona’s head. She looked content and peaceful, and she was sitting on the balcony of Fiona’s loft.

“Yeah, she tends to do that a lot.”

Fiona hadn’t noticed she’d be standing in front of this stranger for a while until he cleared his throat.

“So anyway, thanks for the, you know…” the man said.

Fiona zapped out of her trance, shaking her head a bit. “Right, sorry. You’re welcome. Tell Imogen I said morning.”

The man didn’t reply, he just closed the door, vanishing and leaving Fiona confused.

I think I just met Imogen’s boyfriend.

Chapter Text

IMOGEN

The morning of the Alumni Gala came like a forgotten alarm set in the early hours of the morning.

Imogen knew the date; she'd had it on the calendar for weeks. But with Fiona's shocking return to Toronto, her mind wasn't occupied with her Gala showcase, but instead a headstrong ex. The hours that could have been used to create finishing projects were spent internet stalking that ex and finding out she's starting her own business.

Imogen couldn't help but feel jealous, more than proud of Fiona. Even though she always knew her ex-girlfriend would accomplish big things after Degrassi, with her overcoming addiction and graduating as valedictorian. Imogen thought she'd have her own business or at least a decent job by now. Instead, she photographed her friends and family for some cash and sold a few paintings to an art gallery, but that wasn't enough to support herself. Her boyfriend was the one paying most of the bills as a bartender and the lead singer of his band. Still, Imogen wanted to feel empowered and work a dream job. Meanwhile, she was stuck, hours before the Gala, with unedited photos that needed to be printed on canvases that wouldn't be ready till a minimum of one day.

With disparity and panic streaming through her veins, Imogen scrambled around her apartment looking for something to present at the Gala. She'd promised to have an art piece to auction off as well, but she'd sold most of her best work to a few art galleries around Toronto. Imogen scrounged for something to bring to the event. She flipped through sketchbooks and clicked through a hard drive for photographs but nothing satisfied her to showcase at the gala.

"Shit, I'm fucked!" Imogen screamed out, sitting at the small desk in the bedroom with her laptop.

She slammed it shut, ripping her glasses off and rubbing her eyes intensely. Blood boiled inside and her ear steamed and grew hot. Her breathing hitched and she huffed out her nose aggressively.

"Babe? Are you okay in there?"

The sound of her boyfriend's voice calmed Imogen's intense agitated feeling and she perked up, putting her glasses back on.

"I am screwed Lucas, I am so screwed," Imogen admitted as he stood behind her and slung an arm around her neck.

Lucas kissed the top of Imogen's head, smiling into it. "Calm down babe."

He let out a chuckle.

"I can't calm down!" Imogen squirmed out of his hold and paced around the tiny bedroom. "I have to be ready for the gala in two hours and I have nothing to show for."

Lucas shifted, relaxing his posture. "Why don't you bring that portrait you did of me?" He suggested.

Imogen's eyes lit up and she grinned. "Oh my gosh, Lucas you are genius! I forgot about that piece."

Imogen lunged into her boyfriend's chest, thrusting arms around his neck and planting a deep kiss on his rough, plump lips.

"Mhmm," he mumbled against her lips, his hands wandering around Imogen's waist. "You should procrastinate more often."

He displayed a sexy smirk across his face when their lips briefly parted.

"Shut up," Imogen teased before stealing another kiss from Lucas. "We better get showered and ready."

Imogen pulled away, sauntering to the dresser with a fresh bra and underwear.

"Can I join you?" Lucas asked with a gleam in his eye, following his girlfriend's every step.

"Okay, but this is a look not touch kind of shower okay?" Imogen gathered her clothes.

"Fine," Lucas said, with a mock eye roll and smirking as he made his way to the bathroom.

"Oh, yeah, by the way," Lucas said, as Imogen turned on the water and undressed. "The nursing home called about your dad yesterday morning. He was asking for you."

Imogen went to unbutton her jeans but froze at the zipper. Her brows were scrunched, and her mouth a straight line.

"Yesterday morning? And you didn't tell me till today?"

It was evident by the way her usual chipper voice turned sour and riddled with frustration that she was upset.

"Sorry babe. It slipped my mind." Lucas stripped off his t-shirt, seemingly unbothered by the issue.

Imogen's appearance stayed stuck with brows furrowed, and lips tightly pressed together.

"The fact that you're treating this as if this is no big deal is pissing me off. You know how bad my dad's been lately and how important the time I spend with him is to me!"

Imogen aggressively swiped Lucas's shirt that had been tossed to the floor then flung it at her boyfriend.

"Hey, what's wrong with you?" Lucas scrunched his eyebrows far down to his eyes.

"I am showering alone," Imogen stated.

"You're that pissed at me? Because I forgot to tell you something?"

Lucas apprehensively pulled his shirt back on, trying to speak over the running water from the tub.

"I have to get ready for the gala." Imogen ignored his comments.

"You know I wasn't purposefully trying to hurt you," Lucas said as he opened the door to leave.

Imogen turned her back on him. "I don't give a shit," she spat before he finally left.

FIONA

Eli and Clare were due to pick up Fiona any minute for the Degrassi Alumni Gala fundraiser, yet the New Yorker was stuck in front of a mirror, perfecting her eye makeup and getting the right lipstick color to match her outfit. She couldn't decide whether to keep her hair wavy or have it straight. Her usual style was curled and cascaded off her shoulders, but she'd lately grown to have it smooth and plain. She'd spent the morning trying on outfit after outfit, mixing and matching pieces, but none satisfied the fashionista.

This was a gala, a fancy dinner gala, where everyone dressed in blacks and whites and drank champagne in glass flutes and mingled with fellow students old and new. Although Fiona wouldn't be partaking in the champagne for obvious reasons, she still wanted to participate in holding fancy glasses and walking around like she owned the place. This arrival at the gala would also be the first time Fiona had seen the majority of her graduating class and everyone expected high things from Miss Coyne, so she needed—she wanted, to make a grand entrance.

Fiona settled on a silky black dress that cut mid-thigh, with thin straps and a matching blazer coat. She slipped into her white, strappy heels, rolling a suitcase that contained her display for the auction out of the apartments to where Eli and Clare had parked to pick her up.

"Who's ready for some Degrassi fun?" beamed an overly enthusiastic Eli as he clapped his hands together.

Fiona let out a little laugh as she buckled in. "Someone's had one too many energy drinks," she observed.

"Wouldn't be good to mix with his meds," Clare explained. She turned to look at Eli from the passenger seat, curling the corners of her mouth upwards.

"He's just really excited about this gala. He heard they're serving lobster and hasn't shut up about it since."

Clare let out a giggle.

Fiona settled into the back seat of Goldsworthy's car, suitcase tucked beside her.

"Or you just really want to show off that short film you've been working on eh?" Fiona smirked.

"That too." Eli grinned, facing the steering wheel and he started the engine.

"Let's get our Degrassi on!" he said as they pulled onto the road.

…

They pulled into the familiar parking lot, already full and jammed packed with cars and the group could just barely hear the chatter of the staff, current students, and alumni. The nerves that were nonexistent for Fiona before, crept up on her like a sudden chill and her heart pulsed against her dress. With sweaty palms, Fiona lugged out the suitcase, following Eli and Clare up the steps to the infamous Degrassi Community School. It still looked pretty similar to when she'd attended, but there was a brand new updated school logo, fit for the modern, evolving times.

The halls were nostalgic and bittersweet as she could remember and visually picture moments that had happened in specific areas. Oddly, all the memories Fiona could remember had to do with Imogen. The lockers where they would kiss between classes. The bench where Imogen gave Fiona that robot puppy for protection when she'd experienced the intruder and, the hallway where the girls stood, for their last kiss and their final goodbye.

Fiona swallowed a lump in her throat as she walked by the hallway, the memories are vivid and all too painful. She thought, after moving to Rome and following her dreams, she and Imogen would still keep in contact. Their breakup wasn't hostile, but still hurt Fiona and I guess she hoped they could still be friends. Fiona tried shaking away the memories and focused on her showcase and the importance of this event: to raise money for future students of Degrassi Community School.

The main event was held in the gymnasium where there were many round tables and chairs set up with tablecloths colored in Degrassi blue. Drinks had been already poured and tended to and groups of alumni, faculty, and parents made spots in various places in the gym where they reunited and mingled, with the conversations about past work, current jobs, proposals, babies, and family.

Fiona, Clare, and Eli made their entrance into the gym dressed to the nines—Eli in a classy vest and white button-up underneath, Clare in a modest white dress with black polka dots, and Fiona in her slightly more revealing, but still appropriate black dress. They instantly caught the eye of Fiona's best friend Holly J Sinclair.

"Hey, you guys made it!" a beaming Holly J said, her beautiful red hair swept to one side over a shoulder wearing her fancy black dress and heels. She embraced Fiona in a warm hug and acknowledged the married couple with a friendly smile and hellos and "How's the baby?"

After Holly J graduated from Yale, she pursued a successful career in marketing, working for a prominent advertising agency. She eventually started her boutique marketing firm that focused on helping small businesses establish their brands. In her personal life, Holly J maintained her close friendships with Anya McPherson and Chantay Black and even reconnected with Declan, with whom she had an on-and-off relationship before finally getting married in a beautiful ceremony.

Holly J was the one Fiona kept in contact the most, besides Eli, and Holly J graciously helped Fiona with her clothing brand endeavor thanks to her study in business at Yale. Holly J knew about Fiona's move back to Toronto.

With the advice from Holly J and Fiona's hard work and eye for design, soon she'd be launching her very own brand of clothes.

"We're so excited to see your work!" Holly J said, gently grabbing Fiona's bare shoulders, a grin worth miles wide.

Fiona squealed and shared in her excitement with the redhead, her tiny jumps clanking her heels on the wood floor. (Meanwhile, Eli and Clare already ventured off in conversation with Drew Torres, Bianca DeSousa, Jenna Middleton, Connor DeLauries, and KC Guthrie)

Fiona spun around in joy with Holly J, their hands clasped together, arms swaying side to side. There was light mood music playing in the background, so they followed the beat.

"Where are you all setting up your display?" Holly J asked.

"The main foyer I believe."

"Can't wait!" Holly J chirped.

"I'm gonna get a drink," Fiona said. "Do you want anything?" Fiona asked Holly J.

"I'm alright thanks," she replied. "I think I'm going to go catch up with Mr. Simpson."

Fiona nodded, then went to the drink area to get herself a nonalcoholic bubbly drink. As she poured, the anticipation of seeing Imogen again made her hands shake.

Dammit, why was her heart pounding so much?

"Come on Fiona," she said to herself. "No distractions…no distractions…no distract—"

Suddenly it was like the room was silenced and vacant of people. A feeling, an aura, made Fiona's head turn and there Imogen appeared, swiftly, confident, and glowing with radiance.

Imogen's hair was up in a messy bun with loose strands dangling on the sides. She stood a few feet from the gymnasium doors. Her 5" 3" stature is covered in a gorgeous white dress with a long black coat. Her makeup was light, but elegant with dark lipstick, highlights on her cheeks, and mascara on the lashes. She held a small clutch between her delicate fingers and her new style of round glasses framed her face nicely.

Fiona swallowed the desert that was her throat and her heart raced as she took in Imogen's stunning appearance. Imogen's presence seemed to light up the room, and Fiona couldn't help but admire her from afar. She tugged the bottom of her dress nervously, and adjusted her blazer, suddenly feeling self-conscious in comparison. Imogen's gaze swept across the room, her eyes landing on Fiona for a second, before turning her head away in the opposite direction.

Embarrassed by getting caught staring at her ex-girlfriend, Fiona quickly turned her attention to Drew, Bianca, Eli, and Clare nearby the bleachers, hoping to divert her thoughts. She joined in on their conversation— Drew was telling the story of how he and Bianca ended up working at the same company while Fiona pretended to be engrossed, her mind was still on Imogen.

She snuck another peek at her ex, who was now conversing with women about her height, with blond-ish hair and dark red lipstick. They exchanged a tender hug and warm smiles, then the blond-ish one planted a kiss on Imogen's cheek.

So she doesn't have a boyfriend? Or maybe they're polyamorous? No, that did not seem like Imogen at all.

Either way, boyfriend or new girlfriend, jealousy hit Fiona like a nasty car collision.

Chapter Text

Imogen

Sexy, but classy. That was the style of dress Imogen chose to wear for the gala. It wasn’t too short, and still appropriate for the event, but had a neckline that had enough plunge to make her boyfriend demand for her to cover up. And since they had a big blow up before the gala and he wasn’t attending due to his work, she proudly put the white dress on paired with black heels. Something in her made Imogen want to show up with as much confidence as possible. Maybe it was because she lacked a “real” job and wanted to seem professional or maybe it was the idea that she’d be in a room full of old classmates and she needed to “dress to impress.”

Either way, Imogen wanted to make a grand entrance, even if it was just a dinner in the gymnasium and presentations in the halls and classrooms. It was much like a high school reunion, where you catchup. brag and boast about your family, job and discuss who ended up the hottest. Imogen was hoping to get her mind off of her dad and the fight with Lucas. The last few months, as her father’s condition had hit a downward spiral, her afternoons were spent at the nursing home where her father was taken care of by wonderful caretakers. But it became emotionally draining for Imogen to see her father and have to reintroduce herself each visit. With every passing day, it seemed like he was loosing a piece himself, and soon the inevitable would happen.

Imogen arrived at the Degrassi Gala, trying not to think about her father for just that night and enjoying the evening at her old school with old friends. She brought her painting presentation, setting it up in an empty class room and she could already hear the bustling and mingling of the people in the gym. She needed to get in there and join the fun.

Imogen strutted down the hall in her heels to the familiar gym doors. She opened them to see an already crowded room, filled with students and faculty new and old. Right away an ex girlfriend caught her eye, but not that ex girlfriend. It was Jack Jones, her rebound, messy and complicated ex whom she ended up staying somewhat friends with.

“Oh my god! Imogen!” Jack squealed running up to the brunette. “You’re here!”

Imogen was suddenly collided into a big hug from Jack, arms open and flung around her back.

“Here I am.” Imogen strained her mouth and cheeks up into a tight, forced grin as she wrapped arms around Jack, squeezing their bodies.

Jack pulled away, her red lipped smile wide and toothy, before placing a kiss on Imogen’s cheek.

“So excited for this Gala!” she clapped her hands together and did a tiny hop. “Ooh, we should get a drink!”

“Okay sure…”

Imogen’s eyes drifted to the drink table near the back wall, but when she locked eyes with those certain blue ones, her entire world, the whole room—it became like a black whole, sucking everyone except the two women. she quickly turned her head back to Jack.

“Actually, you go ahead. I see Becky over there and I want to catch up with her,” Imogen said, gesturing towards the blonde haired women dressed in a modest black dress chatting with Jenna Middleton.

“Can’t wait to see your work later!” Jack beamed, dashing off to get a drink.

Imogen did a courtesy nod towards her friend, but instead of going over to talk to Becky, she ran to the bathroom.

Standing in front of the mirrors, Imogen held onto the edges of the sink as her heart beat raced and she tried catching her breath. Seeing so many old faces flooded so many memories she wished to forget and especially Fiona. Seeing her, made her think of a time before her father’s mind went to another world. It was with Fiona when she came to accept her father’s condition in twelve grade and it was Fiona who got her through it all. Having her dad in the worst he’s ever been, but seeing her ex, all happy and successful—it made her feel envious.

Like why couldn’t her life turn out so wonderful? Why did she have to be the one who got the shitty life? Sure, she had a great boyfriend, and a place to live, even if it was falling apart, but Imogen didn’t feel fulfilled or satisfied. She didn’t have a big money making career. She wasn’t producing films like Eli, or publishing novels like Clare. All she did was take photos and paint while she waited for Lucas to get home from work. And yes, while she could go and get a 9-5, the thought of slaving away for a corporation who didn’t give two shits about their employees may as well be worse than her current situation.

Imogen sighed as she glared at her reflection, the knuckles on her hands turning white from gripping the sink. She shut her eyes, picturing her father and what advice he would give. His deep, but comforting voice filled her ears. She could hear him tell her that everything would all work out and her confidence and unique personality could get her anywhere.

Imogen’s eyes pooled with tears at the thought that even if she did get somewhere and do accomplish things, her father wouldn’t be around to be proud of her, or at least his mind wouldn’t even be able to recognize any of it. She wanted to get married and have her father walk her down the aisle, have him meet her kids and be able to recall and remember their names. But that image, that expectation, it wasn’t happening.

Imogen was mid splashing water on her face when she heard someone announcing in the gym.

“Who’s ready to get this gala and auction started?” The young voice boomed through a microphone, followed by clapping .

“Shit?! How long was I in here for?”

Imogen frantically pulled a piece of paper towel from the dispenser, wiping her dripping face before she ran out of the bathroom. Peeking through the gym doors, she saw that dinner was just getting served so she carefully opened the door as to not have heads turned her head way. But as she opened the door, her heel got caught on the way in and her body came tumbling forward. Miraculously, only one person noticed and of course that one person had to be none other than Miss Coyne herself.

“Woah, are you alright?” Fiona said in low voice as to not garner anymore attention.

Thank God cause that was embarrassing.

Imogen stood up from her knees, brushing down her dress and adjusting the high heel that had slipped off her foot. The nerves in her stomach and the stress in her veins miraculously vanished.

“Do you wanna skip this?” Imogen asked Fiona out of blue.

Fiona opened her mouth, but only made a throat sound at first. Her face was washed with a mix of shock and confusion.

“Imogen, I—you haven’t talked to me in years and…what about our presentations?”

Imogen could see a panic in those blue eyes and, but she was oddly calm and sure of her question.

“I didn’t mean the whole thing, just the dinner,” she clarified, scanning the gym to see if anyone was looking.

Everyone was deep into their lobster and salad and the auctioning had started. Imogen wasn’t hungry anyway, and she needed to escape for a bit.

“Where are we going?” Fiona asked when Imogen started to pull on her wrist, leading her out of Degrassi.

“To see my dad.”

Imogen walked swiftly and with long strides to her car as a puzzled Fiona followed behind.

“I want to see if he remembers you,” Imogen said, opening the passenger door for her ex.

She stood in the parking lot with the one hand on the door, eyes locked on Fiona.

“You in or not?”