Soft rays of sunlight poured through the blinds of Peter and Derek's dorm room as dust particles floated around in the orange hues. A warm glow was cast over Peter's figure on the floor, hunched over papers with lyrics scribbled on their crumbled sheets. In his hands was an acoustic guitar, worn and a little rough around the edges, much like its owner. Two small dents in the body of the instrument matched the dimples that appeared on Peter's face as he smiled. His fingers lightly brushed over the strings, creating a soft medley of sound.

On the opposite side of the room, his roommate, Derek, lay on his back atop his bed, the sheets haphazardly spilling from the mattress to the floor. In his hands was a volleyball, which he threw upwards every now and then, the soft thump as it hit the ceiling and returned to his open palms accompanying Peter's guitar like percussion.

Somewhere else on the floor there was the rough beeping of the communal microwave, and soon the smell of burnt popcorn began wafting in through the vents. Shouts of surprise and disgust followed as the smell continued to emanate through the corridors. Evenings in Rothman Hall were never quiet.

"If the fire alarm goes off, I swear to God—" Derek muttered, throwing his ball back into the air.

Peter released a final strum on the strings of his guitar, before leaning his arms over the body of the instrument. The edges of the guitar dug lightly into his chest. "I bet it was Gabriel."

The volleyball landed neatly in Derek's hands. He held it against his chest, his dark brown eyes still locked on the ceiling. His dreadlocks scattered around his head, falling on his pillows like small snakes in a meadow. They emphasized the sharp edge of his cheekbones, and the glow of sunlight cast a golden hue on his dark skin. He threw the ball up in the air again, the muscles in his biceps rippling against the brightness of his bedsheets. "My money's on Jacob."

Peter made a noise of disapproval as he rose to place his guitar back on its stand. It was easy for anyone to guess which side of the room belonged to Peter and which belonged to Derek. The right side was always pristine and organized; papers and books were always stacked methodically on the mahogany desk beside the bed, and the area was devoid of clutter. The left was always in disarray— notes scattered on the floor, unwashed mugs and empty plastic bottles littering the second desk, and a rather hideous-looking stain on the carpet. With a frown, Peter kicked a dirty shirt over the stain as he passed by in an attempt to hide it.

Peter jumped onto the top of his bed, facing his roommate. His hands curled around the fabric of his bright blue comforter, balling the material into his fists. Peter's hair was now brushed back and smoother than in the morning thanks to Sam, and his green eyes were sparkling like freshly-polished jade. There was something important he needed to tell his friend, although he wasn't sure how the other boy would react. Pursing his dry lips, Peter hesitantly called out, "Derek?"

"Pete?" Derek threw the ball back up in the air.

"I'm going to propose to Sarah."

Making a noise akin to choking, Derek bolted upright in his bed to stare incredulously at his roommate. The volleyball landed with a loud thump on the top of his head. Derek rubbed the top of his head as he cocked an eyebrow. "Excuse me, you're going to what?"

Peter merely grinned back, heat rising to his cheeks. In the Republic of America, marrying at a young age had become a societal norm— there was always a particularly high chance that you could catch the leftover strains of the Plague, though with new vaccines available to prevent it, it can be avoided as easily as the flu. If one were to contract it, the virus's symptoms were still severe, and those with weakened immune systems rarely survived even after receiving treatment.

And of course, people were always aware of the deadliest risk of all: the possibility of turning into a Corrupted.

"Why do you sound so surprised? We've been dating for nearly three years," Peter said without malice, raising his hands for Derek to throw him the volleyball.

Derek scooped up the ball, rolling it over in his hands as he tried to dissect what his friend had just told him. "But you're only twenty-two." He passed the ball to Peter.

The other boy caught it nimbly and argued, "My parents got married at nineteen and eighteen. You said yours got married when they were both twenty-one."

"I guess," Derek mused.

"Come on, man," Peter passed the volleyball back to Derek, who caught it deftly although his eyes were trained on the carpeted floor. "I thought you all liked Sarah?"

"I do— we all do," Derek said. "It's nothing against her, man, I promise. It's just the idea of you getting married... it's weird to me."

"Listen, I know that you and the others aren't super close with her. She's not part of the original seven and I get that," Peter said, referring to their friend group. "But she's not an outsider anymore; you're all friends with her now. I mean, we're all friends with Jason too."

Derek frowned at the mention of his boyfriend's name. "I know but—"

"Then I don't know why you seem so against it."

"I'm not against it! I'm happy for you, Pete, I really am." Derek said sincerely, placing the volleyball beside him on the bed. He shook his head in wonderment. "Marriage," he let out a low whistle. "It's just weird how we're all growing up so fast. Once we graduate and get sorted into different Sectors, it's kind of insane how we may never see each other again. I'll get to see you engaged, but I might never see you walk down that aisle, bro."

The two fell into a mutual silence. The idea of graduation and being separated from one another were taboo subjects among the friend group. It was something that always felt so far out of reach, and the group hoped that if they never spoke of it, the reality of it would never come. Peter felt his heart sink at the thought of his closest friends being separated from him.

"By the way," Derek's voice drew him away from his thoughts, "have you told Sam yet?"

"Sam?" Peter echoed, confused. "Not yet, I was gonna have the others meet us later tonight so I can deliver the good news. Why?"

"Nothing, nothing." Derek turned his gaze away, although his words did nothing to quell Peter's curiosity.

"What, do you think she'd be against it?" Peter asked incredulously. "Our Sam?"

"No, of course not. You know she's your number one supporter. She's happy as long as you're happy." Derek shook his head. His fingers traced the patterns on his comforter. Unrequited love, he thought to himself. It was really a cruel thing.

Derek knew the other girl would sacrifice her own happiness for the golden-haired boy standing in front of him. He knew how selfless she was when it came to her best friend. But Peter only ever saw the side of Sam that she allowed to show him. And the side that she one day wanted him to see, the side filled with her love and her longing for him, would always be hidden away in the depths of her heart.

Derek and Sam had had their fair share of heart-to-hearts. One drunken evening sophomore year led to honest conversations amongst the stars, talks of one-sided loves and coming outs and tears and sniffles against the backdrop of cicadas' chirping. Only Derek and Maia seemed to know the truth about Sam's feelings.

"Earth to Derek," Peter waved a hand in front of his roommate's face. Derek jumped in surprise; he hadn't even realized Peter had moved off his bed to stand in front of him. "Why did you bring up Sam?"

Derek shrugged, pushing away Peter's hand. He replied breezily, "You two had been best friends before the squad even existed. I'm just honored that you decided to tell me first."

"Pfft," Peter snorted, hopping up onto the bed beside Derek. The mattress creaked under his weight. "Don't think too highly of yourself, man. There's a reason I didn't want to tell her first. She'll find out tonight."

Derek quipped a curious eyebrow. "Well, that's ominous."

"Sam is just as important to me as Sarah is, and I want her to know that. So I have a question to ask her too."

"Don't tell me," Derek gasped in mock surprise, throwing a hand dramatically over his heart. "You're proposing to her too?"

Derek was rewarded with a hard smack to the back of his head. Peter was about to hit him again but the other boy laughed, dodging Peter's attacks and sliding off the bed. "Oh, shut up," Peter muttered. "Just go get changed. I'm gonna text the others."

"But I'm already in my jammies—" Derek whined, but his roommate already had his cellphone in hand. With a few taps on the screen, the familiar light blue of their messaging app lit up Peter's face. He clicked on a bubble with their group chat name —"Bed, Bath and Beyoncé"— and immediately started typing a text message to their group.

meet at hem's in 30 minutes. this is super super super important! if you're not all there, i'm kicking your asses. xoxo your sexy friend, peter

---

As Sam was leaving the laboratory, she felt a buzz in her right pocket. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she skimmed over the text from Peter, frowning at her phone. "Drama queen," she muttered, shoving the phone back into her pockets.

The light from the sun was warm and felt nice on her cheeks; Sam had always loved sunsets in her Sector. The vibrant orange and reds would glaze over the buildings in the city, casting a warm halo behind the skyline. A cool breeze had picked up, billowing her hair around her face.

By the time she had made her way across campus and swiped into Franklin Hall, Sam had a sinking suspicion that her roommate was still fast asleep. There was no light slinking in through the door sill and as Sam pressed her ears against the oak wood, she could hear Maia's soft snores inside— a sharp inhale followed by a sputtering of exhales.

Gripping the room key on her lanyard, Sam gently unlocked the door and pushed it open as quietly as she could. With every step further into the room, Maia's snores became increasingly louder. Sam dropped her knapsack lightly onto her desk and grabbed a pillow from her bed. As Maia prepared to inhale, Sam raised the pillow in her hands and brought it down on her roommate's face.

Shrieking, Maia's eyes fluttered open as she raised her arms to swat at her attacker. Sam quickly reached out to steady her before she could fall off the side of her bed. "Sam, what the hell? I'm going to kill you—" Maia had scrambled into a sitting position, her arms hugging the pillow that Sam smacked her with in her arms, her curls in disarray, and her eyes widened in a frenzy.

"You've been asleep for three hours, girl," Sam laughed, reaching out to grab her pillow back from her friend. Maia turned away too quickly and Sam's fingers only grazed the tips of the pillowcase.

"I don't see a problem with that." Maia huffed indignantly.

"Whatever," Sam waved a hand at her. Reaching into her pockets, she unlocked her phone and threw it over to her friend. Maia fumbled but barely caught it, nearly toppling forward. "We've been summoned."

Maia read through Peter's text and groaned, falling back onto her bed and flailing around childishly. "I swear to God, this better be important. Pete knows better than to wake me up from a nap."

Sam let out an airy chuckle and gave Maia a reassuring pat on the knee. "Go get changed, Maia. I'll go see if Joelle got the text."

Maia, whose face was blocked by the crook of her elbow, simply raised her middle finger in response.

Joelle, another member of their seven-piece friend group, lived in a single dorm right next to Maia and Sam. It was convenient how close they were to each other, and the three often hung out in each other's rooms to study or to avoid studying.

Rapping her knuckles on the surface of Joelle's door, Sam pressed her cheek against the wood and called out, "Joelle? Did you see Pete's text?"

There was no reply and Sam frowned. With a glance at her wristwatch, the hands on the clock reading half past six, Sam knew that Joelle had to have been home as her last class of the day ended at three.

She knocked again, louder than before. "Joelle? Are you asleep?"

When no response came, Sam had half a mind to leave when she heard a muffled cry from inside before it was stifled almost immediately.

Instantly, her gut clenched in fear. Her mind raced, memories of the past swarming and clouding her vision. She could hear the sound of Corrupted, groaning with their rancid breath hot on her face. She could hear the cries of her younger brother behind a locked door, muffled and faint. She could feel the pain of flesh being ripped on her body.

"Joelle?" Sam began to see black spots in her peripherals as her hands scrambled to the doorknob, hands shaking. "Joelle, are you in there? Are you okay?" Panic was starting to throw Sam over a precipice, her voice rising an octave in fear.

She knocked harder, her knuckles beginning to bruise. Desperately, she leaned her ear against the grain of the wood, but to no avail. There was only silence.

Stepping back, Sam propelled herself against Joelle's door, her shoulder slamming painfully into the wood. She shoved her entire weight into the door—once, twice, three times. Her fear for Joelle's safety forced adrenaline into her veins and allowed her momentary release from feeling any pain.

Finally, Sam heard the splintering of wood. Soon, the door was being shoved aside, the lock hanging loosely from its place in the frame. Sam fell to the floor with a gasp and hurriedly got up to check on her friend's safety. "Joelle, are you okay—"

There was a loud, feminine scream and Sam's eyes widened, only to be instantly covered by her own arms. Her face turned a startling shade of red. "Oh my God, oh my God," Sam stammered. "I am so, so, so sorry."

Joelle and Harrison, her boyfriend and another member of their friend group, were both on top of Joelle's bed and the two quickly gathered the blankets strewn around them in a daze. Joelle felt her dignity flush down the drain as she covered her naked body with as much of the blanket as possible, her own face as red as a tomato. Beside her, Harrison seemed frozen in place, his mouth dropped into a shocked 'o.' Shirtless and his bright blonde hair sticking upwards messily, he seemed to finally grasp the situation and grabbed a pillow from beside him, trying to cover up Joelle as best as he could.

"S-Sam, what did you do to my door?" Joelle choked out, her hazel eyes drifting to the doorframe. It was still mostly intact, but now dangled precariously on its hinges, swinging softly in the air conditioned room.

"I think," Sam said softly, unable to uncover her eyes. "I broke it."

"Whoa, what happened?" Maia's voice chirped from the broken door. Her head poked from around the corner, letting out a whistle as she took in the scene before her. Her lips twitched upwards into an amused grin. "Holy shit."

Joelle let out another scream and threw the pillow covering her breasts into Maia's face, where the poor girl was hit again for the second time that night.

As the girls began bickering away in the background, Harrison grabbed his phone from the end table beside Joelle's bed, squinting at the sudden brightness in the dimness of the room. "Oh, hey. Pete wants us to meet at Hem's!" he said jovially, unable to read the tension in the room.

Harrison was rewarded with a glare from all three girls.

And a pillow right onto his Crown Jewels.

----

Author's Note: Yay, you all finally get to meet the members of the Star Squad! You've been introduced to 6 of them, but you'll meet the last member of our faithful friend group in the next update. 

I hold friend groups near and dear to my heart. These seven were loosely based off my friend group of seven, although personalities and appearances are completely different than my friends in real life. Which friend do you resemble the most? ;)

This chapter is dedicated to sarahsarasarita! Please check out her novel, Kingsblade! It's an exhilarating read and the way Sarah writes makes it feel like you're reading a published novel. 

As always, comment, vote, and promote! xoxo

-Isabelle