Awakening

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Awakening is the first episode of the series and it introduces characters Cecilia Bolton, Nathaniel Rowland, Andrés Arriaga, Emmanuel Spears, Zachary Rowland and Valentina Gutierrez. It is written by Sis.

**Plot**

**Awakening** is the pilot of the series, and it serves as the characters introduction, as they all try to turn a new page in their lives, for different reasons. As they all cross paths, helping each other look at things in ways they could not get to on their own. One character makes a life-changing decision, one of them realizes that maybe they aren't where they were supposed to be, and one person has something to hide.

# Awakening

His eyes are heavy and dry, and his vision is a bit foggy, from the exhaustion and lack of much needed sleep, but he can still see the time on his watch. 3:25 a.m. It is the fourth night in a row in which he goes back home at such a late hour, and at this point, he has lost the ability to tell daytime and nighttime apart. His back is aching and his tailored suit feels restricting and warmer than he remembered, but he’s so tired that he could just fall anywhere soft and sleep in it. He closes his eyes for a bit, as the elevator softly starts up. Dreams of peaceful vacations fill his mind and, for a moment, he actually feels like he has fallen asleep while standing. With his eyes still closed, he lets the corners of his mouth tilt up, as a warm feeling spreads in his chest, when he remembers this marks his first few moments of freedom. He tells himself that he enjoys his hectic work schedule and always being ready for action as much as any other successful, career-driven big company headman, but the office life can be very demanding, of both time and energy, stressful, limiting, hard and, in really hellish weeks, actually dramatic. No trace of doubt is left when he looks back on his decision to take a year off from work, to learn what life actually feels like for normal humans, and to enjoy his son before he can be far too grown up to remember he has a father. Yes, he does not need the stress, the craziness or the drama, so he made sure to leave those back at his office and planned to walk into a drama-free place known as “home”.

The chime of the elevator breaks him out of his fantasy and he opens his eyes, feeling the anticipation and need to step into his apartment and get ready for, at least, fifteen hours of uninterrupted sleep. He puts his first foot forward and begins to exit the lift, the tension jumping off his shoulder, and as soon as he is completely out, he is met by a woman blocking his door. The most intriguing part is that she is on the floor, and seems to be passed out. The man becomes instantly alarmed and rushes over to her, assuming she might have collapsed there for some horrible reason; normal and dignified people don’t simply lie down at the foot of a stranger’s door. What he sees is a young woman looking fairly dirty and disheveled, with a nearly empty bottle of whisky in one of her hands. Nearly empty because the liquor is leaking, forming a big puddle all over the floor. For a minute of or two he stands there, uncertain of what to do, but after carefully examining her, he puts his hand over her shoulder and gives her a shake. Nothing happens, so he tries again, but this time he calls out.

— Miss, are you alright? Miss?

The woman makes a weird, low noise, similar to that of an animal, and starts to move with a lot of difficulty. He steps back and gives her some space to recompose herself. She struggles to get up, using her free hand to support herself, but her arm gives and she flips over, with her back landing on the puddle of whisky, which surely wouldn’t help with her messy appearance. On the floor, looking up at him, she blinks a lot, making faces at the bright lights and still groaning.

— Miss, are you okay? — He asks again.

— What? — She responds, in a rough voice. She squints, but focus on his face, trying to make sense of her surrounding and of the person standing above her.

— I asked if you– Never mind. Do you think you might want to get off the floor now? — He says, in an interesting Scottish accent.

She eyes him, lifts the bottle she is holding, takes a sip of what is left inside and then throws it aside. Now that she is facing him, the man realizes she isn’t as old as he had assumed. Still, you couldn’t be completely sure until a thorough bath, a change of clothes and a good night of sleep. Regardless, he wants to get her out of there so he can go to bed at last. The hope of tranquility after a draining work day growing faint. The mysterious girl uses her elbows to straighten herself and then props herself up. Still dizzy, she uses a nearby chair as a tool to keep herself on her feet. He really doesn’t want to risk her getting gunk all over his expensive suit, or even worse, vomit, but he helps secure her. Her eyes look like two big blue windows on a cold and rainy day, her hair is brown and one side of it is going in every direction, while the other is wet and looks rather disgusting, her skin is light and her face super red, and there seems to be a small cut on her upper lip. He decides she is in no condition to go anywhere else on her own, so if he wants to get on with his life, he might as well help her disappear first.

— Do you need any help getting home? Assuming you have one… or that you know where it is. — He puts out his hand, hoping she will grab it, but she slaps it away angrily.

— I don’t need any help, thanks! — She replies — I live in here, I just gotta get to my place.

— Great! And where is that, exactly? Do you have any idea in which floor you are? My name is Nathaniel Rowland. I stay here. You were blocking my way when I found you. — He says, as tries his best to keep her in a straight conversation. The quicker she shows signs of consciousness, the better it is.

— So, that’s you… I’m… Agatha. — She looks at the number on the door and then back at his face. — I’m below you. I can– I can find it myself.

— Okay. Why don’t I just help you get to the lift, then?
— Fine. But just because I’m really tired. What’s your name again? — She asks. The girl gives him her hand and he holds her by the arm and helps her walk to the elevator.

— Um, I’m Nathaniel. Nathaniel Rowland.

— What’s the other guy’s deal? Is he dumb or something? — She looks up, as if talking to someone besides Nathaniel. — It’s really rude to ignore people, you know?

Nathaniel is unable to make sense of what she’s saying. “She is probably seeing me doubled, considering how inebriated she is,” he thought. That only increases his concern that if he releases the girl, she will wreak havoc on her path, so staying with her and taking her home seems like a much more sensible idea. He then gets into the elevator with her and pushes the button. Agatha gives him a crooked look, then proceeds to question why he is following her down. “I just want to make sure you get home safe, that’s all,” he responds. She moans in protest, but before the doors can close, she’s already leaning in and resting her head on his shoulder. He looks down at her and chuckles. How messy do you need to be to show up in such a state? Once the door opens, he gives her a little nudge, waking her up.

— We’re here. — He announces.

The woman wakes up and realizes where she is sleeping, or on whom she is sleeping. Even through generous layers of alcohol and God-knows-what other substance she’s taken, she can still feel a sting of embarrassment, especially, when she notices a small drool stain on his jacket. That is when she understands that the effects of her wild night are starting to wear off, and the hefty dose of moral hangover will be kicking in full force in no time, so she gathers up all of her energy and starts leaving before he insists on making sure she’s entered her home and is in her bed.

— Oh… Oh! Thanks. I’mma– I’mma get in now. You don’t have to take me there.

The guy is a bit surprised at her sudden burst of consciousness and urge to leave. — You’re good to go, then?

— Yes. — She answers, shaking her head to reassure him. — Thanks again. And sorry about, you know, drooling on you.

She points at him and he seems confused at first, then does a double-take and sees the spot she left. — You drooled on me…

— Yeah, I wish I could just walk outta here without you noticing, but you were going to, ‘nyway, so it’s better I announce it, so I can maintain some dignity. That’s all. Good night.

— The sun will be coming out in just a few hours actually. — He says.

— Exactly. G’night, mister. — She says, while she steps out.

He finds her comment amusing, so he laughs, as the elevator doors close. — Good night, Agatha.

Nathaniel notes that there is always room for a little extra-office drama in his life, but this time, he could at least carry it with a laugh, every time he remembers Agatha, the girl who drooled on his two thousand dollars suit. As she closes the door behind her, Agatha recollects the events that just occurred and wonders if the guy was pretending not to know her or if he really had no clue she was lying to his face.

If there is one thing that Valentina Gutierrez knows for sure is that she loves being an actor. The rush she gets every time she has to do a scene in front of people, the way she always feels stimulated when she has to enter the mind of a new character, understand them and become them, even when she watches herself on the screen and starts going through all she could have done differently, all of those things fascinate her and make her love being an actor. She has a promising career, despite the young age. At just seventeen years of age, she is already a teenage television star, with a decently big following, but she believes that what separates a celebrity from an artist is that celebrities seek fame, regardless of how they achieve it, while artists know they constantly need to improve, and more, they crave for evolution. That necessity to always be better and know more about her craft is what initially leads Valentina to one of the most prestigious arts schools in the country. And it isn’t until she meets Zachary Rowland, a young aspiring actor, that she starts to worry she is losing sight of her goals.

The auditorium is filled with people, mostly beginning actors. They warm up and prepare to starts exercises and group interactions, directed by one of Valentina’s favorite teachers, for whom she holds a deep respect, and is appreciated back. So what she is about to do feels extra wrong and dangerous. The stage is a place for the great, the ground where queens and kings stand, and every Thursday at 3:30 p.m, the place where kids go to discover all about what makes an actor. Behind the curtains, though, is where the action truly happens. Especially when you have a boy running his hands down your body.

— You look so hot today. — He says, in between kisses on her neck.

— Thank you. Are you sure no one is gonna catch us here? If any of the kids sees me, you can be sure they will take pictures and post them online. — Valentina says. Her concern goes beyond just being caught. As his kisses intensify, the boy starts gripping at her body with more lust, and his movements become tighter and more predatory.

— I told you, Val. No one comes back here during classes. — The boy insists. He thinks his girlfriend smells particularly nice today, so he makes sure to really bring his head closer to her hair. It is dark, full, long and smells like roses. — Are you wearing the perfume I like?

— Ye– Yes. Zach? — Valentina says. He responds when she speaks his name, but doesn’t stop. Her discomfort grows, as more people enter the room, but it is the fact that his hands now reach her breasts that is bothering the most. — Zachary, stop! — She complains, breaking apart from him. He frowns and exhales in frustration.

— What is it? — He protests. — I told you no one’s gonna come here. I paid Anton fifty bucks to make sure of that.

— That is not it. I don’t like your wandering hands. — She says. Instinctively, she wraps her hands around her body, creating a protective barrier around herself.

— What? — Her boyfriend cries. — Why do you do that? You get me all hot and bothered, just to cut me off. You’ve been doing that a lot recently. Is that your way of saying you don’t want us to hang out anymore?

— No. That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just… My body’s been sensitive lately; I don’t feel comfortable when you come on so aggressively.

She has her back turned to him, as she isn’t able to face him. She knows that she isn’t feeling comfortable and that he has to understand it when she says she doesn’t want it, but part of her feels guilty, because he’s been patient every time she told him she wasn’t ready to have sex, and even more understanding about it when she told him that they couldn’t be seen together, because of her boyfriend. Being a famous TV star, she dated her onscreen costar, and they were one of the public’s favorite couples, because they looked so adorable together.

— Aggressively? I was being gentle. I just thought you missed me as much as I missed you.

— Of course I missed you. — She looks at him and sees the disappointment in his eyes; even a little bit of hurt. So, despite her feelings, she does the best she can do to thank him for his affection and care: she lies. — I’m sorry, baby. I did miss you. My head is just not in it right now. You are right. I can’t shake off the idea that someone’s going to surprise us if we go any further. Please don’t be mad.

She lays a kiss on his lips and he accepts it. — Okay, fine. Maybe next time we can find a better place to meet. This place is dirty, anyway.

— Thank you for understanding me. You are the best. I promise I will make it up to you. — She says.

— You better. Now, let’s get out of here. I just regret giving Anton those fifty bucks for nothing. — He says.

— Don’t be cheap. — She replies, with a laugh.

As he walks ahead of her, explaining why he wasn’t being “cheap”, Valentina holds a sinking feeling inside her chest. Her mind is a mess and she feels like she has no one to talk to about it. Not her fake, publicity stunt boyfriend, nor her actual boyfriend. Because what she thinks she wants to tell him is something that, she is certain, will make sure he never wants to see her face again. As they walk together, Valentina laughs as much as she can and tries to convince him that she is the happiest she’s ever been, because, maybe, if she fights the tears that are threatening to come out at any moment and replace them with laughter, she will eventually convince herself.

The days start later for Andrés Arriaga, because the night is when he lives his life. His routine consists of waking up around noon, putting together whatever he can for lunch, working on his computer until 3 p.m. and then going by his friend’s place to wake her up from her alcohol-induced quasi-coma, before he takes off for work. They rely on each other for these small, but potentially life-saving favors; more often than not, she relies on him, because he is the sober one in their friendship. More than you would think, besides the completely reckless routine of her life, like clockwork, Andrés’ best friend can be counted on to keep a solid schedule of drinking all night and sleeping all day, until she falls asleep in the hallway outside a stranger’s apartment.

He is on his way out to work; it’s a busy day today. It isn’t always that he has to leave his house to work, and it isn’t often that he does not find a way to take at least a few hours off. That is the beauty of Andrés job, the flexible hours; too flexible. His job is kept under complete secrecy. He doesn’t mention it much and isn’t able to tell what exactly he does, where he works or who he works for.  The most he’ll get around to disclosing is that he “works with computers” and that “they pay him a lot to do it.”

The sun is shining outside, which means his friend is in the deepest of slumbers. He gives the door three knocks, but no one answers to them, so he attempts entrance and finds that the door is open. Speaking with her about leaving the door open is no use, mainly because she’s hardly ever sober enough to remember it, but he thinks that it can’t be that harmful, since he’s the only one who knows of her habit, and it saves him the trouble of having to look for her spare keys. As he enters the apartment, the first thing he notices is that the girl is nowhere to be found in the living room, her choice of place to collapse in. The place is as dirty and messy as usual and there are bottles of liquor lying around, nothing out of the ordinary, but where is she?

— Cecilia! — He calls out. — Are you here?

Again, nobody answers. Not even the familiar clink of glasses and bottles being moved, or the characteristic moaning he heard when she was waking up. He notices that the curtains are open and sun light is coming in, making visible the stains on the floor. His home is kept spotless, and looking at Cecilia’s place still makes him want to be sick, but doesn’t throws him on a cleaning frenzy, like it used to in the beginning. Instead, he just quietly starts to pick up the most apparent trash and move dirty clothing into the bin. The kitchen isn’t the prettiest of sights either, with leftovers sitting on the counter and a leaky carton of milk on the kitchen table. “Okay, maybe I can just wipe this out,” he thinks. He stays so concentrated in his cleaning that he doesn’t notice the click of a lock coming from the bedroom area, or the yawn the owner of the place gives. He is only broken out of his trance when she lets out a high pitched screech upon seeing him.

— Oh my God, Andrés! What. Are. You doing? — She says, holding a hand to her chest.

Andrés is also scared out of his body. He turns around to look at her, just to find his friend wrapped in a white towel.

— You’re here– Whoa! You’re in a towel! — He says, turning back around. His already rosy cheeks turn to a burning shade of red, spreading down to his neck.

— Yeah. I was in the shower. Wait, are you blushing? — She laughs out loud at the realization that her shy friend is turning pink. — Come on, mister. You’ve seen me in much worse situations. Some of them include gruesome projectile vomiting.

— I have never seen you naked. — Is all he says in response.

— Okay. Just keep your back turned then. I’m gonna put on some clothes. — She says, as she walks back to her bedroom. — I’m leaving the door open, so you can shout from there and I’ll hear it.

He nods his head, even though she is leaving and he’s got his back turned to her. — So! It is a surprise to see you up so… early?

— Yeah! — She shouts from her room. — I kinda woke up early today! I had the craziest experience last night! I don’t remember much, but I know that by the time I got home, I was sweating the alcohol away and had some sense of what I was doing.
She is now back from her room, wearing a pair of jeans and a white blouse. “I fell asleep at this guy’s door, and he found me there. You can turn around now.”

— You fell asleep? — He looks at her, confused. His face is still very heated, and his eyes as wide as a window.

— I don’t know. I mean, I very vaguely remember passing out there, or even how I woke up. All I remember is him bringing me home. I even drooled on him. Can you believe that?

— No. Who was him? — Andrés asks. — You said he brought you home? Does he live nearby?

— I don’t remember what his name was, or what he looked like. But I think he lives in the building. Hey, are you going out for work? — She asks, hoping to get some insight into her friend’s life. He gives her a very direct answer.

— Yeah.

— Awesome. Busy day today? What are you up to at work these days?

— Nice try. — He says. — You know I can’t talk about my job. But what I can talk about is the Kingston party Saturday night. I’m spinning. You’re coming, right?

— Oh, the Kingston party! I had forgotten. Crap, I don’t think I’ll be able to. — She says. The look of disappoint appears on his face. — I’m kidding. Of course I’ll be there to support you. You’re getting my friend a pass, though, right?

— The one you met in rehab?

— Yes. His name is Emmanuel, and he’s a great kid. He just needs to work on his confidence, that’s all. And I’m gonna help him out, like he helped me back there. — She says.

— Well, it doesn’t seem like he helped that much, since you’re still here, drinking yourself out every night. — Andrés throws at her, with a smirk.

— Hey! He was the one who convinced me to stop fighting it and to just shut up and accept the punishment. And I did just that. So when I was out, I drank to celebrate my willpower.

— Don’t worry. I’ll get you the passes. But you’re gonna have to tell me how you got yourself out of line again after rehab. — He says, finishing his cleaning in the kitchen.

The shop is crowded when he gets there, but Emmanuel Spears manages to find a quiet place to sit. His head is buzzing. For a few minutes, he just sits there, watching as people come and go, feeling like he’s just watching life unravel before his eyes, except that he’s behind a thick glass wall, and everybody else is inside, living a normal life. The feelings of isolation aren’t new for Emmanuel, but they seem to spark up every time he has an altercation with his father, like the one he left behind before he got to where he is. The noise of the people is supposed to drown out his own thoughts, but it fails to. Instead, it just gives him a background to lose himself in. He looks at the couple sitting a few tables away from him, how they interact. The guy has his hand resting on his lover’s face, while her own hand finds his and holds it, as if it was the most precious treasure. He doesn’t consider himself an expert in human emotions, God knows he barely knows what to do with his, but he is sure he can see a sparkle, a gleam in the guy’s eyes. Sitting there, he craves for that. He wants to be that guy, and then be his girlfriend, and then the guy again. Back and forth, he wishes he could love and be loved.
A soft tenor voice breaks him out of his mind. A young boy stands before him. The boy is about medium height, has short blonde hair, bright blue eyes and wears a uniform. His nametag says “Zachary”. He is good looking, like he came straight out of the TV.

— I’m sorry, is this your wallet? — The boy says, holding out a wallet. — I think you dropped it.

It takes Emmanuel some seconds to understand, but he sees it is, in fact, his. So he takes it from the boy’s hand.

— Thanks. I didn’t see it falling out. — He says.
— That’s alright. — The boy says, walking back to his chores.

Emmanuel’s first thought is about how pretty the boy was. He didn’t seem like he was far away from his own age. But it’s the thought that follows that hurts inside. He remembers his father, and their argument about Emmanuel’s sexuality. The  threat to leave him to his own devices, the slap to the face… He can still feel the sting when he thinks about it. Finally, he looks in the distance and sees the boy smiling at a beautiful girl; she too looks like a TV star, and she might actually be one, because there are people coming up to her with paper and pens, and she gives them a big smile as they approach. The guy can barely contain himself with joy and speaks with her excitedly. Emmanuel thinks that if he was a girl, it wouldn’t be so strange if he flirted with the barista himself, but he wasn’t one, so what was left was to admire him in silence.

The thought of things he could neither change nor improve was too upsetting. To his luck, his phone started ringing. His friend Cecilia was calling. They met in a rehabilitation facility, and those months were not easy for either one of them, but they helped get each other through it. So when she called, he knew she would have the answer to his prayers, and would be able to push away the pain, for at least a few hours.

— Hey, girl. — He greets.

— EMMA. — Cecilia shouts. This gets Emmanuel giggling.

She was the second person he came out to, after his father. Since his first experience had been one of acute rejection, the only reason he did was because he thought she was making a move on him, and as soon as he did, he regretted it, because he expected this crazy, beat down girl to hurl offenses at him. Instead, she let out a thunderous laughter and said “You and I are gonna be great friends.” Months later, he was calling her Cecil and she was calling him Emma.

— What can I do for you, miss? — He says. A smile starts to grow on his face.

— Andrés got you a pass. You’re coming with me. — She says. She sounds beyond herself with excitement.

— I don’t know, Cecil. My dad and I had another fight, I’m not sure I’m in a club mood.

— Don’t be whiny. — The girl commands. — You’re coming. All the more reason to come. Besides, he’s a DJ at an LGBT-friendly party Saturday night, so you might even find yourself something to smile about. Wear something fabulous!

Back on the other side of the line, Andrés shakes his head at his friend’s crazy personality, but finds himself amused by it. She gives him a wink.

— What would I wear? I have nothing ready. — Emmanuel says.

— Just… do something you’ve never done before. This is the time to impress yourself. And me. If you don’t wanna do it for me, do it for your father.

Emmanuel raises an eyebrow at the suggestion. — My father? The one who said he would rather leave me to die on the streets than to watch me take the family name down to the mud? You want me to dress up for a boy, while thinking of him?

— Precisely, my friend. — She says, feeling witty. — Just because he told you that you can’t be who you truly are, you are gonna dress to kill and lose yourself in the arms of the most gorgeous guy you find. Show him he doesn’t own you. Shock him with your courage. I gotta go, see you tonight!

Cecilia hangs up before he can resist. She knows he had it in mind. Before he gets up, Emmanuel Spears contemplates what she said, and thinks what he could do that came close to that. How he could show his true self. Minutes later, an odd, yet eye-catching individual enters the shop. She is tall and gorgeous. Her hair is larger than life, and in screaming colors too. Her face is meticulously painted and her dress is absolutely gorgeous. A deeper look and Emmanuel realizes he is looking at a drag queen. So fearless, so bold, in broad day light. If he can be anything like her, then, just for that night, that’s exactly what he’ll be.

As he exits the establishment, Emmanuel gives Zachary one last, hard look. From where he is, he can see the boy’s happiness vanish, as another comes in, sits besides the famous girl and plants a kiss on her lips. There, Emmanuel thinks that, perhaps, he isn’t the only one feeling alone today.

Cecilia hangs up on Emmanuel. Andrés gives her a weird look.

— Thanks for lending me your phone. I have no idea where I left mine! He’s coming. So get to it. — She says.

— Okay. I gotta go. I’ll see you tonight. — He pauses, to chuckle. — Why are you so hyper at this hour of the day?
— I’m just excited. I started my day early and I feel like I have some energy. Plus,  I can sleep all I want tomorrow, when I go blackout drunk. By the way, is Lily coming too?

— Yeah, she’ll come. — He says, in a monotonous tone.

— Aye, Andrés. What a dead answer. Did you guys get into something else?

— Nah. We’re fine. She’s excited to come on Saturday. She wants to see you too.

— Good! I miss her. You guys look adorable together. — She says.

— We sure do. Okay, I’m out. Love ya!

— Love you! — She responds.

He makes his way to the door, while Cecilia goes through the fridge, searching for something to eat. Before he can get to the exit, the doorbell rings.

— I got it! — Andrés announces. He marches towards the door, and when he opens it, he sees a tall man in a blue suit standing there. He has red hair, a well kept beard and Andrés knows who he is. Nathaniel Rowland.

— Hello! I’m sorry to bother. I hope I didn’t get the wrong place. I’m looking for Agatha?

Andrés eyes him up and down, and is left in pure confusion.

— Agatha? — He asks. From inside the house, Cecilia calls out his name and moves in his direction, unaware of what is about to happen.

— So, who is… it? — She says, as she looks into the eyes of the man who helped her the night before.

— He’s looking for Agatha. — Andrés announces it. — Do you kno–.

— That’s me. — She says, before he can blow things. The guy stands there, awkwardly.

— Agatha. Hi. You dropped your phone last night. I would’ve brought it sooner, but I figured you’d still be asleep by now. I’m surprised to see you’re up already. — Nathaniel says.

— *You and me both, partner.* — Andrés says, under his breath, earning a hard nudge from Cecilia.

— Thank you! Mister…? — She says.
— Nathaniel.

Andrés debates internally whether he should go at last, or stick around and see how this wraps up. He decides he’ll stay.

Cecilia grabs her phone and thanks Nathaniel once more. He gives them a cordial smile and begins walking, when he suddenly stops. One look over his shoulder before he goes. Just as she begins to slowly shut her door.

— By the way, Cecilia. Your agent called, he says he wants to save your career. — Nathaniel says, smiling proudly to himself, then walks away.

As the door clicks behind her, Cecilia rests her back against the door and slides down, wishing she could sink into the ground as she did it.
In the elevator, Nathaniel gets a very important call.

— Yes? I just met her. — He speaks into the phone. — No, no. Things will go according to plan. We’ll start tomorrow. I’ll think of a break after I’m done with this one.