Rich was quite distant the next morning. He didn't feel the need to talk to anyone, so he just took laps down the many long hallways in his favorite black dress.

The night- or, well, morning- before was quite a blur to him. He remembered Chloe being shooed out as soon as possible as he finally regained the ability to breathe. He remembered staining the bathroom floors with all the blood he hacked up, and clogging a toilet with the flowers he held back. That was about it, though.

Brooke had tried to talk to him many times and generally failed- he gave a simple nod before walking off. Jake, too, had tried to talk to Rich, or at least apologize, but Rich strutted off without a simple word or gesture, or even a look, leaving Jake stranded in the middle of the hallway.

So Jake did something he hadn't done in a long time. He baked.

He decided to make cookies. He was going to make shortbread- the easiest and his favorite. He was going to top every cookie with a fondant flower; he needed some way to make it complicated. It wouldn't be a Jake cookie if it wasn't, right?

He began gathering his ingredients, sprinting around his personal kitchen. He needed food coloring. All sorts of types of it. He need purple and pink and yellow, too. It's what he needed to make a mallow- one of his mother's favorite types of flowers.

He began working, tripling his recipe and loading it into a giant mixer, reaching over and turning the oven on. He went back over to the mixer and started loading in the ingredients. He almost had the recipe memorized by now.

Soon enough, he was putting trays of perfectly shaped balls into his many ovens- setting a timer immediately. He started working on the icing. It had to be perfect; and amazing yellow center, pink that descended into lilac then bright purple without any mistakes. He couldn't have any mistakes or he'd be forever disappointed in himself, and so would the villagers, he assumed.

He didn't know why he still called them "villagers". The kingdom was more like a city, but with a castle. It was normal, just like England and America (or so he's been told). Whenever he said "villager", he would think of old dirt homes, like something you'd see back in medieval times.

He was humming to himself as he stirred the icing, when the door suddenly opened. He groaned in his head, expecting it to be Chloe, but was rather surprised when Evan came in. "Oh, hello, Evan!"

"I hope I'm not bothering you, sir." Evan jumped on the counter, swinging his feet.

"Why would you be? I always appreciate your company, homeslice." Jake winked.

"You look busy. Plus, uh, the Americans have been..." Evan didn't finish, not wanting to come off as rude.

"I know what you mean, and I'm not busy! I just need to relieve some stress." Jake shrugged, taking his giant bowl and putting it in the fridge.

"I think we all need to do that." Evan shook his head, swinging his feet slightly. "They've all been so stressful lately- it's overwhelming, really. Anxiety."

"Everything's been a blur. It's like Brooke and Rich hate me now, but I didn't even do anything! Like, they've been ganging up on me for a while now!" Jake tossed his head back and groaned. "Rich was in the hospital and they won't even tell me why!" Jake slowly turned to look at Evan in realization. "Do you know why..?"

Evan didn't respond for a few moments. He knew exactly why, but he could never tell Jake. "No. But trust me, Rich doesn't hate you. Certainly not." He avoided Jake's gaze, knowing he already said too much.

Jake cocked his brow and let his mouth hang open slightly, but he didn't say anything. Evan coughed, speaking up again. "They all care, really."

"Some of them too much," Jake rolled his eyes, a sly grin forming on his lips. "If you know what I mean."

Evan nodded, bringing his hands together and fiddling with his thumbs. "She is pretty obsessed with you.. C-chloe, I mean."

"Yeah. It gets creepy sometimes." Jake looked over at the ovens and the cookies inside, but they weren't ready. "She's always trying to grab my arm and shit like that."

"One word," Evan smirked, hopping off the counter and taking a step towards Jake. "Stalker."

Jake nodded, raising his eyebrows. "That'd be the right one. Anyway, can you help me?"

"Yeah. What are you making?" Evan walked over to the oven, eyeing the baking cookies.

"Cookies, but like, with mallows on them. Made of icing." Jake grinned at his idea, clasping his hands together and rubbing them. Evan's eyes widened, and he took in a small breath.

"Oh. Great. For who..?" He tilted his head, praying he didn't say Rich.

"My friends and the villagers." Jake hesitated before speaking the word villager.

"That's great.." Evan chuckled nervously, feeling a little anxiety coming on. "Just f-fabulous."

Jake nodded excitedly. "I know! I'm so smart. My mom loves mallows, y'know? So does Marina. The one who runs the flower shop." He walked over to Evan, staring at the cookies and slipping an arm over his shoulder.

"Of course. Nothing wrong with a mallow, I guess." Evan sighed. "I-I think they're ready."

Jake laughed heartily, running to grab some oven mitts. "Let's make some cookies!"

•••••

Rich was still amazed at what the castle had, and how modern it was. When he thought of a castle, he thought of old stone walls covered in ivy and dusty old rooms covered in jewelry. It was more like, a nice stone on the outside and a giant mall on the inside, you could say. Many restaurants littered the palace, like a food court. It was rather strange, to be honest. He was currently in a Starbucks, sitting on one of the high stools at a high table.

He was drinking black coffee, plain, and it was disgusting, but he decided it fit his mood and what he wanted at the moment. He was bitter and sour. Not that coffee was sour, but.. whatever. He didn't feel like thinking about it. He swung his feet, his heels clicking against the metal chair. He was admiring his dress and the black cutouts that lined his sides. It was his favorite and probably always would be, because it was his first. It was the breakthrough. And when he went back to America, he was going to wear his dresses with pride. If someone made fun of him, he'd punch them. That was how Rich Goranski worked.

He was just silently enjoying himself, hearing the calming music playing in the background. He didn't even notice someone come and sit in the seat opposite of him, setting down a plate of fresh cookies.

"Hey.. uh.. Rich?" The person spoke, tapping his shoulder. Rich looked up slowly, mentally preparing for a bathroom run when he saw Jake.

"Oh. Hello." He took a sip of his coffee. Jake smiled, glad that Rich was finally talking to him.

"Can we talk?" Jake said cautiously.

"Of course. Not sure what there is to talk about, but whatever floats your boat." Rich sighed.

"So, uh, about yesterday.." Jake looked down, scratching at the table with his fingernail. "What happened..? Nobody's around and you're free to just speak to me."

Rich shook his head. "I'm really not comfortable telling you, okay?" He eyed his wrist, which was just barely stained with blood from last night. "There's no need to worry about me."

Jake puffed out his cheeks, a little disappointed. "Of course. Well, I made some cookies, if you want some." He pushed his plate forward.

Rich didn't even notice the cookies were there. His eyes widened, and he exhaled shakily. "Sorry, I, um, I'm not hungry." He covered his mouth, just in case.

"Oh.. maybe later then." Jake said sadly. "Do you wanna.. go bowling or something..?"

Rich smiled, nodding. "Sure. I'd love that."

Sorry this is kinda a filler and the next one might be too until we get to the r- I mEAN WHAT