Chapter 41: Drawing a line
It was already five in the morning, and somehow, we had just wrapped up our second round of Monopoly. There were at least twenty people crammed into my trailer—it barely fit us all. Between the snacks, the noise, and the piles of game pieces scattered everywhere, the whole place felt more like a chaotic dorm room than a professional actor's trailer.
I was just thankful I still had space on the sofa, even if it was mostly because Crystal had claimed my lap earlier in the night and hadn't moved since.
Playing Monopoly with Dylan as a partner had turned out to be a catastrophic decision. We tried to keep our communication subtle—whispering our thoughts so Crystal, who was technically on the opposing team, wouldn't overhear our plans—but it didn't matter.
Discreet or not, Dylan had absolutely no business sense.
None.
Monopoly is a blend of luck, strategy, and calculated risk. It's about knowing when to invest, when to hold back, and when to manipulate a trade in your favor.
Dylan, on the other hand, seemed to think it was about rolling the dice with optimism and outbidding everyone on the board just to "make a statement."
"This is an investment," he'd said while paying three times the actual value for Baltic Avenue. Baltic. I didn't even have the energy to argue.
Every time he rolled the dice, it felt like we were landing on someone else's fully upgraded property. Meanwhile, our own little stretch of real estate sat untouched, underdeveloped, and very unprofitable.
By the time we lost—again—he was mumbling something about how he'd "take revenge next time" and how the dice were "clearly cursed."
As people began trickling out of the trailer—laughing, exhausted, and already making plans for their next gathering—I slouched back further on the sofa, Crystal still resting on top of me, her arms lazily looped around my neck.
"Next time," I muttered, rubbing my eyes, "I'm not partnering with Dylan."
Crystal laughed, the kind of laugh that fills a room even when it's soft. "It's fine. You can partner up with me next time."
I tilted my head slightly and raised a brow. "Oh? Are you really going to betray Holland like that?"
She paused, clearly amused. "I don't think she'd mind. We'll figure it out. If not, I'll just meditate while you all destroy each other again."
We eventually moved to my bed.
She shifted a bit, settling down beside me now instead of on my lap, and we stretched out together.
At this point, even a patch of carpet would have felt comfortable. We both lay still, finally enjoying some quiet after the non-stop chaos of the evening.
As I let myself ease into the calm, she spoke up again, her voice barely above a whisper. "What are your plans… if you get accepted into the Harry Potter movie?"
My eyes stayed closed, but I responded without missing a beat. "Act in it, obviously."
She rolled her eyes but smiled against my shoulder. "I mean, what happens to us if I get that role in the States? And you're flying back and forth between continents?"
I paused.
It wasn't a new thought—she had told me before about the role she might get. Something small, maybe, but promising.
And I knew that if it worked out, she'd be spending a good amount of time in the U.S. That meant we'd have to navigate long-distance. We hadn't been dating for that long, but we had gotten close very quickly.
And I could hear it in her tone—she was worried.
"You're right," I said, taking her hand in mine. "I'm not great at staying in touch unless someone's right in front of me. I know that. But I'll try. I promise I will. And I'll fly out to see you whenever I can. If everything goes well, they might shoot my scenes early, and I'll be back before you even know it."
She didn't answer right away. But I felt her relax a little against me, her fingers tightening gently around mine.
"I guess we'll figure it out," she said softly.
"Yeah," I replied. "We will."
With that, we let the silence take over, her warmth against me, the room quiet again after all the laughter and shouting. And just like that, sleep slowly took over—no more questions, no more worries, just the steady breathing of two people doing their best to hold onto something good in the middle of a very complicated life.
…
The morning sun had barely risen when I stirred awake. The trailer was still dim, just a faint sliver of daylight sneaking in through the closed blinds. Crystal was still curled up next to me, tucked beneath the blanket, her head resting comfortably on my shoulder. Her breathing was steady, slow, and peaceful. It had only been a few hours since we finally drifted off after the board game madness the night before, but somehow, I didn't feel all that tired.
I let her rest for a bit longer, careful not to move too much, and eventually she woke up on her own—still groggy but smiling.
"Morning," she mumbled into my shirt.
"Morning," I replied, brushing a strand of her hair off her forehead.
Moments later, a knock came at the trailer door, followed by Dylan's very distinct voice.
"Hey! I brought coffee!" he called out.
I opened the door to find him holding three cups in a tray and somehow still wearing the exact same hoodie from last night. He looked tired, but there was that usual glint of energy in his eyes. I stepped aside to let him in.
"You're a saint," I muttered, grabbing one of the cups.
"I know," he said smugly. "Also, we've got one last scene to knock out. Director says we're rolling in an hour."
Right. The final scene.
After all the chaos and emotional high from game night, I almost forgot that technically, Teen Wolf Season One wasn't officially finished yet. One last scene to shoot. One last transformation. One final take.
Crystal and I freshened up, got changed, and the three of us made our way back to set. The crew was already moving around by the time we arrived, the usual quiet buzz of production in full swing. There was a kind of unspoken energy in the air—this wasn't just any scene. It was the end of the season.
It didn't take long to get into position. I slipped back into character one last time, letting Scott's instincts take over.
And just like that, with a quiet "Cut," it was over.
The final shot.
Just a quiet sense of satisfaction that settled over the set.
We didn't linger long afterward. Crystal excused herself to grab something from her trailer, and Dylan stretched dramatically, yawning like he hadn't just been awake all night.
"You ready?" he asked, turning to me.
"Yeah," I said. "Let's go check out the new place."
Crystal and Dylan left their cars at their places, and Crystal wanted to drive my car so I let her. I didn't particularly mind it…
Her music taste was... interesting, to say the least. About halfway through the drive, she put on something indie and borderline acoustic that made Dylan groan out loud.
"Seriously?" he muttered. "You're going to put me to sleep."
"You can walk if you want," she replied sweetly.
"Unbelievable," he whispered to me. I just chuckled.
Still, there was a calm energy that came from just being around each other. Dylan occasionally made dumb comments. Crystal hummed softly along to the music. I let my mind wander.
When we finally pulled up, I took a second to actually look at the house.
It wasn't massive, but it was definitely bigger than any place I'd stayed in before with friends.
Crystal stepped out first, stretching with a satisfied sigh. "Nice. Better than I expected."
Dylan whistled low. "Alright, alright. I see the vision."
We walked up to the door, and before I could even knock, Sam swung it open like he'd been waiting there for an hour.
"Took you guys long enough," he said, grinning. "Kevin and Cliff are already filming something in the kitchen. It's chaos. You're gonna love it."
We stepped inside, and the sound hit us immediately—pots clanging, exaggerated voices shouting lines, someone groaning about spilled eggs.
Welcome to the content house.
When I walked into my room at the content house, it already felt settled. I'd done all the setup weeks ago, back when the landlord let us move a few things in early. The desk was exactly how I left it—clean and ready.
My laptop was perched in its usual spot, dual monitors flanking either side for editing and casual gaming. On one wall hung my whiteboard, covered in a mix of scribbled notes, half-formed content ideas, and a few reminders that looked like they'd been written in the middle of the night.
A two-seater couch rested under the window, facing the desk. It wasn't expensive, but it was comfortable and easy to sink into. Across from it was my bed—neatly made, if only because I hadn't slept in it yet.
The wardrobe stood to the side, packed with clothes I'd organized more carefully than I probably needed to. All in all, it was the kind of space I could work in without distractions.
Crystal and Dylan were in the room with me for a little while. Dylan had flopped onto the couch, shoes off and arms stretched above his head, still recovering from the drive over. Crystal had perched near the whiteboard, reading some of my scribbled notes and quietly laughing to herself at a few of the stranger ones.
"This one just says 'hot sauce in cereal—never again,'" she said, shaking her head.
"Yeah, that was Kevin's idea for a challenge. Didn't make the cut."
They lingered for a while—talking, lounging, just enjoying the quiet after a long stretch of filming. But once I settled in at the desk and opened my laptop, I think they could both tell I was starting to drift into work mode. Dylan stood up first, stretching out his back.
"Alright, I'm starving," he said. "We're gonna grab something to eat."
Crystal nodded, already slipping her phone into her bag. "We'll head back to my place for a bit after. We'll be back for dinner with everyone, though."
She walked over, gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, and handed me my car keys. "Hope you don't mind—we're taking your Audi."
"I don't mind," I said, without looking away from the screen. "Try not to scratch it."
"Try not to be boring while we're gone," Dylan added as they slipped out.
Once the door closed, the room fell into a quiet state that made me think. I glanced at my subscriber count—it had gone up again. Last I checked, I was sitting at around 50,000.
Now I was at 52,000 and change. Nothing explosive, but steady.
And the comments on Lord of the Mysteries? That was another story entirely.
People were still pouring in with theories, questions, and increasingly aggressive pleas for Volume Two. I skimmed through a few of them, smiled to myself, then closed the tab.
I'd made it clear that there'd be a one-week break after Volume One's mass release, and I was sticking to that. Building some distance gave the story room to breathe. It made the return feel bigger.
Later that afternoon, I gathered with Sam, Clifford, and Kevin in the living room. The girls were still at uni for the day—Samantha and Elizabeth wouldn't be around till dinner—but I figured this was as good a time as any to talk about content planning.
"I wanted to bring something up," I said, pulling out a small notepad from my back pocket.
Kevin looked up from the corner of the room. "What's up?"
"I know everyone's excited to continue filming, but I've been thinking about the kind of content we're pushing out. For me, I want to keep things clean. Entertaining, sure, but not over-the-top. No prank wars, no weird challenges. I want to present myself a little differently—like, if a producer or casting director sees the channel, I don't want them to click off halfway through a whipped cream ambush."
Sam nodded slowly. "You want it to stay more... polished."
"Yeah," I said. "Still casual. Still fun. Just not messy. Something people can take seriously, especially as we grow."
"I get that," Clifford said. "Sam and I might still mess around with challenges and stuff, but we can keep it separate from what you're in."
Kevin just shrugged. "Fine by me. I'm already focused on my store stuff anyway. You're not gonna catch me hiding behind doors with water balloons."
That was exactly what I hoped for—a simple understanding. We were all doing our own thing, but it was nice to know they'd respect the direction I wanted to take.
And once Crystal and Dylan got back, we'd all be sitting down to film the next phase—something light, something together, and something we could all stand behind.
…
Authors note:
You can read some chapters ahead if you want to on my p#treon.com/Fat_Cultivator