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Ah, the college house party.

A carefree cacophony of music and liquor.

Lionel, however, is not carefree.

Lionel can only think of what to do with his hands...

and whether or not the sweat on his forehead is visible

and if anyone else feels the desire...

Run!

Ever the introvert,

Lionel gravitated toward journalism,

which allowed him to speak volumes without having to say actual words.

And while Lionel believed

the pen was mightier than the sword,

neither pen nor sword got shit on the comment section.

"Reggie called them pigs and tried to flee the scene.

Why didn't he just comply?"

That's not the point.

"It's really messed up, what happened,

but he's still alive.

Why is no one talking about poor Thane?"

Reggie was victimized by institutional racism.

Thane was killed by gravity.

"Fuck Thane and fuck Reggie."

"Fuck Thane? Fuck you."

"I make $75 an hour working from home, and you can, too.

Interested? Click here."

"Sorry, I was hacked."

In fact, Lionel's life had become

an endless comment section.

If only the real world had a block button.

This is all so fucked.

Yeah, but you know me.

I never intended for any of that to happen.

Yet, you still said nothing.

So now I'm supposed to feel guilty for something you did?

Well, how about feeling guilty about something you did?

What is that supposed to mean?

I don't know.

Why don't you ask Reggie?

Hey, hell of an article.

Thanks a lot.

I never blamed you for making that call.

I would have done the same...

if crowds and that "whoo-hoo" sound people make

didn't flood my nervous system with unyielding panic.

Next time, try saying what you think in front of people.

Is it weird I long for the good old days of the blackface party?

Simpler times.

At least then, we all had something we could agree upon.

#BlackMindsGather. Clever.

Informative. I love it.

- I sense a "but" coming. - No.

- However... - Same as "but."

It would have been better to get a quote

- from Gabe about AP's impromptu trial. - Gabe didn't really feel like talking

after everyone used my story against him loudly.

So make him feel like talking. Do your job.

What does it matter?

I wrote a story about a cop using excessive force,

and somehow Reggie gets blamed.

Then I write a story about a cop overreacting to a benign phone call,

and everyone gets mad at the guy who made the call, which is insane.

Girl, it is too early in the week for an existential meltdown.

I'm a man!

Okay.

So what do you want to do, Mr. Man?

I was...

I was thinking about writing a feature on Troy.

- Ugh. - Hear me out.

If I can take Troy... a black student

who's one of the good ones... and show even he's a victim

to the same system as a kid like Reggie,

maybe people will see this is a real problem.

Troy's a legacy kid and student body president.

How is he a victim?

Let me write this piece, and I'll show you.

Brooke, do a feature on Troy.

- What? - Already on it.

How? How are you already on it?

I'm perpetually taking notes.

But... Brooke... is already on four other assignments.

You don't know my life.

I only need two hours of sleep at night,

30 minutes of which are night terrors...

TMI, Brooke.

This is malarkey!

When you're back from 1875,

I have an assignment for you: Griffin Day Parade.

That's a fluff piece.

Something you can be objective about.

If anyone should write a feature on Troy, it should be me.

He's my roommate. That gives me access.

And I'm sure you'd love to have even more access.

Project much, Silvio?

Troy is not even my type.

Research?

What am I doing?

Wasting your time,

when what you need to do is find someone to sniff your manties.

Judgment-filled non sequitur.

I'm TopForTight97. Dom.

Straight-acting muscle top for otter-y sub bottom.

No fatties, no fems.

No rice, no spice.

No curry.

We're supposed to bring food?

Well, hi.

RedStateBrownEye here.

Conservative everywhere, but in the bedroom.

I am a discrete power bottom, looking for a horse-hung top

to pound my greedy hole.

Water sports, BDSM, race play a plus.

Oh, and D&D free.

Who says romance is dead?

What's up, my nig... yeah, that's... that's too much.

- It's too far. - It's been a long day.

And...

you're the only one who can give me what I need.

Is that right?

Is it weird Mario still dresses as a plumber?

It's been three decades

since he did any kind of plumbing.

Bro, a hammer? Fuck your fucking life!

You wanted to play with items.

Pause.

Sorry. Force of habit.

What's the opposite of pause?

Hmm. Not silencing millions with your hetero-supremacy.

- Ah, that's right. - Three, two, one.

Go!

Hey, uh, you going to the Griffin Day thing?

Yes, to wave and smile

and be seen as a sign that racism is over.

How reassuring.

I was supposed to cover it, though, I was thinking,

what if I turned my parade story into a story about you?

You shit-fucking turd! Sure.

Have you been formally diagnosed with Tourette's?

No need.

You see, straight guys are encouraged

to never express the full range of human emotion,

causing it all to be bottled up inside,

only to be expressed during sports and...

you fuck bag!

Video games.

Hi!

So what's your take on the allocation of funds

in regards to student health services?

Uh, pro, you know? For it.

Brooke, I... see you're already here.

Yeah, I've been here since the parade started.

You know, like, an hour ago.

Got in right after my 5K.

Must be a slow day for you.

Positively glacial.

Stay clear of Brooke.

But I thought she was tag-teaming with you.

What? No!

She may seem nice, but she's...

she's out to get you.

Wait. Why?

Wait. Did I sleep with her?

Doubtful.

I think there's a Small Wonder situation

happening under all those rompers.

Misogyny.

How refreshing.

- You know you only moved two feet away. - We're busy.

What's up, paper boy? Nice speech, Mr. President.

Mm, yeah.

Not a single racist got a pardon

and you promoted fire safety. Way to go.

I'm surprised to see you two here.

You know, floats and marching bands and...

actually, celebration of any kind just doesn't seem like your thing.

It's not.

Couldn't give two fucks about a Griffin.

"I can't breath"?

What?

Aw, shit.

You should have caught that.

Sorry. Your face looks all serious and cute.

Pithy speech, Troy.

Could use you on the Pastiche staff.

Yeah, it's the least you could do,

considering how much Troy has done for you.

Sam, please, I don't think I can survive such a hostile learning environment.

I think I need a safe space.

Where will you ever find anyone who can relate to your experiences?

God, our repartee is magic.

We'd really make a dynamic duo, hmm?

Sure, walk away.

I have a feeling we'll be seeing her byline

in Pastiche soon enough.

Do you get off on being an asshole?

That and student/teacher porn.

- What was that about? - Nothing.

It was nothing. Want to get out of here?

Sure.

Ooh, where are we going?

Lionel's doing a feature on me for The Independent.

Maybe I can provide some insight.

- Uh, actually I... - Lionel wants to do this alone.

Will you excuse us, sweets?

Sure. Take all the time you need.

I was being polite.

I don't actually need your permission.

I don't know why you're being weird.

I'm not being weird.

After last night, we had a moment.

You're my brother. I...

What do you...

Look.

We both got caught up.

I'm still caught up.

Who was that?

- You ready? - Yes. Let's go.

Let's definitely go.

You all right, man?

I'm just hungry.

You okay?

Yeah, I... you know I'm not 21.

Yeah, neither am I.

But this is when people not being able to tell us apart

comes in handy.

- Mr. T. - Hey, hey.

Welcome back.

Who's your pint-sized friend?

Wait. Oh, my God. I know you.

I-I don't think so.

Yes, I do. Don't make me prove it.

Kind of new to this.

Avid reader.

I love "Smash Bros."

That's a video game, not a euphemism.

Adorbs!

I'm just gonna put you in my pocket.

Little pocket pal.

Lionel here is my roommate.

His very embarrassed roommate.

Girl, please. I used to be you.

- Huh? - Yeah.

We were roommates freshman year, but AJ dropped out.

I'm not the Ivy type, but I do enjoy the Ivy tuition my folks keep sending.

I plan on telling them after I pay off my mustang.

- Nice car. - No. My horse.

He's a mustang.

Winchester feels so far from here.

Winchester's not so bad.

For you. You're student body president.

- Your father's the dean. - Oh, what's the point?

You know, with the blackface party

and the Reggie thing, I feel useless.

We all do.

Everyone at AP thinks I'm just a mouthpiece for the administration.

Or a fucking mascot,

and not the fun kind that gets to fire off T-shirts in front of people.

That's why I come here.

Here, I'm just a guy having a drink with his homeboy, Willie Evans.

That's the guy on your ID.

Oh.

You know my dad hasn't wished me happy birthday in three years?

Whoa. When was it?

A week ago.

Silver lining...

At least you have a dad you can blame for screwing you up.

My dad died before I turned six.

Not like he was around much before then anyway.

And so he just left your family?

He wouldn't leave his other family.

Wow.

So you didn't have a man around to show you what's what?

Yep.

Which is why I chose to be gay.

Kidding. That's not how it works.

No, I know that. Teletubbies turned you.

That and the lack of prayer in schools.

My mom left when I was a kid.

- I'm sorry she left. - If my dad's

as tough a husband as he is a father,

I don't blame her.

I know my dad's trying to protect me

from all the bullshit he's faced as a black man,

but, fuck, perfection is suffocating.

I mean, sometimes I just want to pack up all my stuff

in the middle of the night,

throw away my phone and just leave.

Never speak to him again.

Neika.

Ah.

Actually, it's Professor Hobbs.

Nice to meet you.

Officially, no one who's here legally has met me.

Unofficially, it's nice to meet you, too.

I... I tried to get into your class, but it was full.

Hmm.

Professor Hobbs is very popular.

It's because she's so good at everything she does.

Okay, Troy, how much have you had? You need to eat something.

Professor Hobbs, not in front of Lionel.

We're not coming here again.

It took me 15 minutes to park.

I told you we should Uber, baby.

Why? You're the only one drinking.

- Why do you think that is? - It's true.

She does love her tequila.

I'm assuming.

Are we gonna spend the entire night with your students?

I think you need to calm down. It's good to see you, Mr. Fairbanks.

Let's go, baby.

Hmm.

I'm not exactly fluent,

but was that straight for, "I'd hit that"?

Or, "I already hit that"?

What?

But she's faculty.

And she has a fianc�e.

And she's... gay.

No, she's not when she's with me.

- What about Coco? - What about Coco?

Look, am I here with Coco, or am I here with you?

Whoo! I dare any of you motherfuckers

to be on the wall during this jam.

You heard the man.

? Been fooled by first impressions... ?

? They're not always true ?

? You thought that I was made out of ice ?

? But I caught on fire with you ?

? And I sparkled for a moment ?

? Then I flickered out ?

? I couldn't feel the flame anymore ?

? But, darling, I'm feeling it now ?

? It took such a long time To convince me ?

? You could fill that empty space ?

? Ooh, but Saturday night is shining ?

? On my Sunday morning face ?

? Ooh-ee, baby Saturday night is shining ?

? On my Sunday morning face ?

? Yeah, yeah, yeah ?

? Saturday night keeps on shining ?

? On my Sunday morning face Ooh-ee, baby... ?

Ah, man, where's the bathroom?

- End of the hall on the left. - Oh.

You go first.

Or you could just come in with me.

What?

Yeah, I was supposed to meet someone else here,

but he didn't show, so...

So... you want me to...

Unless you don't want to.

You seem nervous.

It's just...

I've never done anything like this.

By the urinal. Classy.

I didn't say stop.

I don't want you doing anything you're uncomfortable with.

It's okay.

Thanks, man.

You are one of the only people I feel I can trust.

I-I feel the same way.

You mind using this?

Um...

How does the cup factor in?

My dad makes me do these, uh...

Drug tests?

Really?

Remember your freshman year?

Well, mine's a bit of a blur.

Aww.

Patronizing sigh.

Um...

Happy birthday.

Thanks, man.

You're a lifesaver.

Lady, I can mix you something way better at the bar.

You don't have to recycle.

Uh, this isn't...

Oh, I know, I know.

Troy used to ask me too, but...

my piss hasn't been clean since I was 13.

I'm not sure about this.

Last call always comes too fucking early.

Besides, you said it's a 25-year-old scotch.

It'd be a crime not to drink it.

Actually, I think breaking and entering would be the crime.

Okay, here it is. There's some Adderall.

And... I don't know what that is.

I know what that is. Don't touch that.

Hey, what are you doing here?

Working on my article.

Convincing.

I'll be back. Excuse me.

Oh...

Your assignment was to cover the parade,

not go on a bender with Troy.

I'll get you your article on the parade. It was pretty uneventful.

Kurt Fletcher and Pastiche handed out their latest issue.

I wouldn't exactly call that uneventful.

People have been snapping and tweeting about it.

And you weren't there to cover any of it because you're on, what? A date?

I wouldn't call it that.

Luckily, Brooke, who you tried to cock-block...

yeah, I know about that...

got the whole thing and already filed a story.

God bless that girl and her sad life.

Uh, hey.

- Brooke? - Why didn't you say anything?

- Were you spying on us? - Yes.

We should go.

Touch my scotch again, and I will remove you.

- From, like, the premises? - From, like, the Earth.

We'll talk about all this tomorrow.

PS...

He's straight.

He'll always be straight.

You know that, right?

Give me the magazine, Kurt!

Give me this magazine, you...

Oh, you think that's a picture of you?

You? Who puts the...

- Who does that? - Give me that shit!

Your freedom of speech is on the line?

Hey. How you feeling?

Empty inside.

You, uh, want to watch something?

Uh, sure.

I just gotta finish up some work, and I'll join you in a bit.

Everyone at AP thinks I'm just a mouthpiece

for the administration.

Or a fucking mascot.

My dad makes me do these, uh...

Drug tests?

She's so good at everything she does.

In a dingy off-campus bar

sits an unlikely patron...

our first black president, our great hope, stuck between the rock

of a world that demands 110% from people of color

and the hard place of an overbearing father

determined to save his son from inequality

by demanding he be perfect.

But a system that requires perfection

in exchange for equality is untenable and unjust.

So unjust...

Sometimes I just want to pack up all my stuff in the middle of the night,

throw away my phone and just leave.

Some of us voted for Troy

as an easy remedy for the problem of racism at Winchester.

His big idea is to set up a town hall for the campus

to air its grievances.

Not everyone agrees with this approach.

The BSU is planning a protest as I write this.

So what happens when the town hall ends

and racism persists?

What will happen to our great hope

when we all realize he's just a man?

No, a boy,

his growth stunted in the shadow of his father.