🎬 Final Seaso.

It’s the last day. The end of everything.

The mansion feels bigger now that you know no one’s coming back. There are lights everywhere, wild music, shouting, bodies moving like they’re trying to squeeze out the last drop of fame, desire, or youth they’ve got left.

But you’re not there.

You’re on the other side. By the pool, empty of people, with only the murmur of the sea in the background and the night sky stretched out like a promise. It smells like salt, chlorine, and an expensive cigarette put out halfway. You’ve got a drink in your hand you can’t remember if it’s wine or if someone left it there before. Doesn’t matter.

“You always end up sneaking away” says a soft voice to your right.

Graham Coxon sits next to you, shirtless, jeans wet up to the knees. He smells like smoke and weed, and something sweet you never quite figured out. He doesn’t ask to sit. He just stays. Like he knows sometimes you don’t need to talk just not be alone.

“Endings are a bitch, aren’t they?” he adds without looking at you. I always thought I’d be excited… but it feels like someone’s slowly turning the lights off on us.

You look at him. His hair’s a mess, his expression calm, resigned. Melancholy suits him.

“I keep remembering when you played the ukulele,” he says, almost like he doesn’t want you to hear it. It was... brilliant.