The scene shifts.
Hannah unlocks the door to her apartment and steps inside.
The room is small, quiet—too quiet.
No voices.
No arguments.
No laughter.
Just silence.
She drops her bag on the chair and exhales slowly, leaning against the door for a second longer than necessary. This house has been hers alone ever since her parents' divorce. No shared dinners. No "How was your day?" No footsteps echoing from another room.
She walks toward the window and looks outside.
The city lights glow softly, familiar streets stretching below. Somewhere nearby—very close, actually—those college kids she met today are probably laughing, arguing, being loud in their own chaotic way.
She smiles faintly.
"Funny how strangers can feel warmer than family sometimes," she murmurs to herself.
Hannah makes herself a cup of tea, moving on autopilot. She sits on the couch, knees pulled close to her chest, staring at the wall.
She talks to herself—not because she's lonely, but because she has learned to be her own company.
"You're doing fine," she says quietly.
"You survived worse."
She thinks about her struggles—growing up too fast, learning independence before she was ready, holding herself together when everything else fell apart. Being strong wasn't a choice; it was a necessity.
Her phone lights up.
A message notification—from the new group chat.
She chuckles softly.
"Looks like chaos follows them everywhere."
For the first time that evening, the house doesn't feel as empty.
Scene Shift — Hostel Room
Meanwhile—
Back at the hostel, the door opens and the group walks in.
Shoes are kicked off without care. Bags are thrown onto beds. Someone collapses dramatically onto the couch.
Lucien stretches his arms.
"Finally. My soul has left my body."
Noah drops beside him.
"I'm never fighting in a café again. Zero stars. Would not recommend."
Victor sits quietly, scrolling on his phone, shaking his head with a small smile—as if silently judging everyone.
Alice leans back, hands behind his head.
"Admit it. Today was… memorable."
Elara doesn't reply immediately. She sits on the edge of her bed, arms crossed, looking unusually thoughtful.
The room settles into a comfortable silence—tired, calm, real.
Different pasts.
Different struggles.
Same room.
Outside, the city hums.
Inside, something new is slowly forming—not quite friendship, not quite family… but close enough to matter.
And somewhere, just a few streets away, Hannah sips her tea—unknowingly connected to the same story.
Hannah's phone buzzes.
She looks at the screen and smiles.
Victor:
Did you reach home safely, Hannah?
Hannah types back almost instantly.
Hannah:
Yes. I'm home. Thank you for asking.
She sets the phone down, still smiling—then it buzzes again.
Lucien:
Wait—where do you live exactly?
Hannah pauses for a second, then replies.
Hannah:
Near Westbridge Hostel.
The typing indicator pops up everywhere.
Alice:
…Westbridge Hostel?
Noah:
Hold on.
Elara:
Don't tell me—
Alice:
That's OUR hostel.
A long pause.
Then—
Hannah:
Oh.
So… that means we're neighbors?
Victor:
Apparently.
Lucien:
This is illegal. Why does everyone keep living near us?
Noah:
Great. Now we can accidentally meet her every day.
Lucien:
"Accidentally." Sure.
Hannah laughs quietly in her room, pulling the blanket closer.
Hannah:
Wow. Small world.
Meanwhile—
Split Scene — Everyone in Their Own Rooms
Noah's and elara room
Noah flops dramatically onto her bed, typing furiously.
Noah:
First café drama. Then fighting. Now neighbors? This story has zero realism.
Elara:
Life doesn't need realism.
Noah:
Says the girl who gets kicked out of class on day one.
Boys' room
Lucien spins on his chair.
Lucien:
So let me get this straight. We defended a stranger. She joined our group chat. And now she lives next door.
Victor:
Fate.
Lucien:
No. Poor life decisions.
Alice leans back on his bed, scrolling.
Alice:
At least she's normal.
Lucien:
You flirted with a stranger in a café three hours ago.
Alice:
And?
Victor:
He has a point.
Back to Group Chat
Noah:
Hannah, warning: these boys are loud, dramatic, and emotionally unstable.
Lucien:
Hey!
Victor:
Accurate, though.
Elara:
Ignore them. If they bother you, tell me.
Hannah:
Noted.
But I think I can handle them.
Lucien types.
Lucien:
She said "handle." I feel threatened.
Alice:
You should.
Lucien:
Traitor.
Hannah laughs again, shaking her head.
She types slowly.
Hannah:
Thanks for today, everyone. Really.
The chat goes quiet for a second.
Then—
Victor:
Anytime.
Noah:
We fight a lot, but yeah… anytime.
Lucien:
Group chaos is permanent now. No refunds.
Alice:
Sleep. Tomorrow is long.
Elara:
Goodnight, Hannah.
Hannah:
Goodnight.
Hannah puts her phone down and looks around her room again.
Still quiet.
But not lonely anymore.
In different rooms, under the same sky, five people lie awake—arguing, teasing, smiling.
None of them realize it yet—
But this group chat just became the beginning of something much bigger.
Everyone eventually falls asleep.
Morning arrives quietly—but peace never lasts long in this group.
Alice and Noah are the first ones awake.
They stand in the main room, half-awake, half-annoyed, still wrapped in blankets and bad moods.
Noah squints at Alice. "Why do you always look like you woke up late for a photoshoot?"
Alice smirks. "And why do you look like a cartoon character who lost a fight with gravity?"
Noah gasps dramatically. "That was personal."
Alice chuckles, then suddenly turns serious. "Noah… can I ask you something?"
She raises an eyebrow. "Depends. Is it dumb or very dumb?"
"How did you and Elara become friends?" Alice asks.
Noah softens immediately. "Oh. That."
She leans against the wall, smiling at the memory. "It was hard. Very hard."
Alice listens quietly.
"I literally chased her like a crazy person," Noah continues. "She ignored me, avoided me, pretended I didn't exist."
Alice snorts. "That sounds like her."
"She even told me once," Noah says softly, 'Please leave me alone. I'm not good for you.'"
Alice's expression changes—something unreadable flickers in his eyes.
"But I didn't give up," Noah adds proudly. "I annoyed her. I followed her. I talked nonstop." She grins. "And now—besties forever ♾️."
Alice nods slowly. "Huh… respect."
Just then, footsteps echo.
One by one, everyone wakes up and gathers in the main hall.
Lucien stretches and suddenly freezes.
His eyes widen.
The bathroom door.
Empty.
"WAIT—"
Lucien SPRINTS toward it like his life depends on it.
But—
Too late.
Alice slips inside before him and locks the door.
Lucien stares at the closed door in horror. "No. No. NO."
From inside, Alice's calm voice echoes: "Good morning to me."
Lucien yells, "SHIT, MAN!"
Victor rubs his temples. "Here we go again."
Noah crosses her arms. "Why is the bathroom always a battlefield?"
Elara appears, still sleepy, taking in the scene. "…What happened?"
Lucien points dramatically at the door. "HE STOLE MY TURN."
Elara sighs. "Form a line."
And just like that—
They all end up standing outside the bathroom again. In a straight line. Like prisoners waiting for their fate.
From inside the bathroom, faint humming can be heard.
Lucien clenches his fists. "I swear, one day—"
Victor cuts him off. "Save it. He's not coming out soon."
Noah smirks. "Welcome to another episode of Surviving Alice."
Elara leans against the wall, arms crossed, shaking her head. "This is why we can't have peace."
And inside the bathroom—
Alice smiles at his reflection, completely unbothered, fully aware that chaos is brewing outside.
From inside the bathroom—
Alice's voice floats out softly at first.
Low. Sweet. Dangerous.
🎵
A slow, dreamy tune about forever,
about staying close,
about choosing one person again and again…
🎵
Elara freezes. "…No. Please no."
Noah gasps. "He's singing like he's in love."
Lucien slams his palm on the wall. "WHY IS HE SINGING A ROMANCE SONG TO SOAP?"
Inside, Alice continues—
stretching the notes, adding emotion like he's confessing his soul.
🎵
Something about always staying,
about this being his place,
about never letting go…
🎵
Victor tilts his head. "…Why is it actually good?"
Noah starts laughing. "He sounds like he's slow-dancing with the mirror."
Lucien yells, "BRO, WE JUST WANT TO BRUSH OUR TEETH!"
Alice doesn't stop.
🎵
His voice gets softer—
promise-like, gentle,
like he's singing to someone he'd choose every day.
🎵
Elara covers her ears. "This is emotional blackmail."
Then Alice adds unnecessary drama— a pause. A breath. A feeling.
🎵
The kind of line that sounds like
'stay with me forever'
even if no one asked.
🎵
Noah claps. "I feel like I just attended a wedding."
Victor mutters, "I hate that I'm impressed."
Lucien looks traumatised. "I will never emotionally recover from this."
Finally— the singing ends.
A beat.
The bathroom door opens.
Alice steps out, hair perfect, skin glowing, confidence illegal.
"So," he says casually,
"How was my concert?"
Lucien screams. "YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED JOY."
Noah laughs. "That was unhinged."
Victor shakes his head, smiling. "You're unbelievable."
Elara glares. "You owe us therapy."
Alice shrugs. "What? It's a good song."
Then, completely serious, he adds:
"By the way—
I really love Taylor Swift."
Lucien points at him. "I KNEW IT."
Noah nods. "Explains the drama."
Victor laughs. "Explains the confidence."
Elara sighs. "…Explains everything."