So. I'm back with the Lowian thing. Do people still like Lowian? I don't care. I wrote this anyway with the song of this title playing repetitively in the background. I'm not gonna lie; I choked up thinking about this. Debating continuing.

More forever-alone Lowery pity. Bring a tissue.

The two duffel bags dropped from Lowery Cruthers' shoulders with a satisfying thud, one that signified the weight felt on the twenty-something man's shoulders.

The light in the old apartment was not on, yet the night cast a silver-blue hue into the one-room abode. The ceiling fan, dormant for three years, now began spinning in a slow, depressing bout. Air bit at his skin; trousers from Isla Nublar not meshing well with Seattle weather.

Without a word, Lowery sauntered through the empty rooms with an air of sadness. His grey jacket hood swayed with each step, bobbing as he walked towards the bed in the furthermost corner of the room.

Still on the end table by the bed lay the invitation letter for his application as the Head Technology Manager at Masrani's Jurassic World. He remembered with a laugh how hurriedly he read the letter and stuffed items in his bags for the job at Nublar.

How foolish he'd been then.

He sat on the bed, the cool sheets welcoming him icily as the bed reluctantly bent below. Taking off his glasses, Lowery rubbed his eyes thoughtfully, quick memories of the park quipping incessantly through his mind.

Meeting Claire Dearing.

Setting up his workplace.

Laughing with Vivian after work.

His eyes began to burn as he stared at his hands. They seemed more callous now—almost feeling war-torn. Of course, he knew how foolish this was, comparing his work to that of the countless ACU soldiers and workers who lost their lives during the Incident. But still, he thought, rubbing his temples, it might as well have been.

Lowery Cruthers was not a brash man. He thought things through carefully. He waited on opportunities. Reluctant to do most danger-implying actions, the Incident threw him a curveball he didn't think he could handle.

Looking back on it, he wasn't sure he really did handle it at all.

The weight of the accident, added on with the weight of the flight to San Diego from Costa Rica and then the flight to Seattle, seemed only to build as he sat. He pored over the questions he'd been bombarded with from countless media reporters, each a musket of their own to fire. Most bullets he tanked, but some he couldn't let away.

"Mr. Cruthers, how much do you think America hates Claire Dearing right now?"

Sure, Lowery hadn't had the best relationship with his boss. The woman straight up hated him, he knew it. But that didn't mean the press could blame her for the incident. It was her fault about as much as it was his. America didn't hate her, and if they did, they should've talked with Simon Masrani about it first.

He would have had something to say about it.

"Do you think InGen is done?"

Simple answer: yes. The logo plastered on the wall across from him seemed to sneer at him now, laughing at him for falling into such an idiot's paradise. He'd leapt into his dino-dream offer. He didn't think he'd be running screaming out. InGen may have had money, yes, but with Hammond gone, the company had no head. It was a decapitated chicken, running around the barnyard. The Incident was just the farmer's bullet.

His pockets suddenly came to life, buzzing for air. Lowery reached in and grasped his phone, the buzzing noise dissipating in his hand.

Message after message repeated from the feed, each one from a different member of the Jurassic World team that was still alive. A few messages from Dearing floated by, then by the jock Grady, a few from Sean... all messages of apology, mourning, data, emotional assistance.

One caught his eye.

(1) New Message from: Vivian Krill

A smile threatened to escape his mouth, ignoring the inappropriate timing. The tradition of sending each other messages right before 9:30 was still ongoing despite the different setting.

He remembered how this was set up. He told her he never read any emails after 9:30. Vivian, the kindhearted little trickster, still managed to juke him out every night by sending random messages at 9:29 or 9:28. It frustrated him, but he loved every but of their friendship.

He checked his watch. 9:29, with approximately thirteen seconds of leeway. Just like always.

Without hesitation, he tapped on the inbox message, half hoping it was the witty humor she always inputted into the messages.

Within the first three seconds, he knew it wasn't.

Lowery,

I hope you're still doing okay. My life is all shaken up right now. My family's all here, and it took all I had to get away for a little bit to send you the message. They're just worried, is all... and I appreciate it. I just remembered how you've got no one to worry about you, and I wanted to be that one.

Lowery's parents both died in the military when he was in college. A military son, he did all he could to honor his parents.

Lowery couldn't help but think if how overly-attached Vivians parents were. The Minnesotan Krills must have been up in knots trying to figure out if their daughter was safe.

He continued.

But other than that, there are a few things I wanted to say. I know you're not going to like hearing this, L, but once I came home my boyfriend proposed to me. We're getting married next June. You're invited if you want to come. I hope you will, despite how awkward the last time I saw you was.

He stopped reading, swallowed his self-pity and preadolescent drama, then continued.

Also, Dearing wants us all to show up in San Diego (us being the control center crew) for a talk about what next. It'll be hard coming down from St. Paul, but I'll make time for it. Maybe we can get coffee? I'm sorry, I know I sound dumb. I still want that sense of normalcy, you know?

He nodded absent-mindedly.

But there are a few confessions I'd like to make first, in case we don't ever see each other again. I know it'll be especially hard for you to get to San Diego, given your travel conditions, so... yeah. First off, the one who kept stealing your sandwiches on Saturdays? That was me, not Owen. Now you don't have a reason to hate him. I felt kinda bad about that after all. Two, the reason I never went around the mosasaur was because I was downright terrified of it. So yeah, your teasing "Krill" shouts were justified.

He put his hand to his mouth. That was a lot of information to take in.

His sandwich? That was her?

And lastly- the reason I didn't tell you I had a boyfriend.

Lowery' eyes stopped. He didn't want to read any more. No, he didn't want to, he didn't -

It was because I loved you.

Numb. Lowery was numb. He'd just spent the last twelve hours trying to eliminate his childish crush on Vivian, and now she released that she, at some point, felt the same?

What could have been?

At some point, I found my boyfriend, and it all makes sense now why you were horrified. But yeah. I loved you once. Sorry to let it all out now, as you're over me now (I hope and I'm thankful for.)

Lowery set down the phone. He didn't even care to read the "See you in SD?" message. Quietly, he turned off his phone and pulled the covers of his bed over his head. Tears began flowing now, burning his eyes and wetting his bedsheets. He hoped his choked sobs weren't audible on the outside of the apartment like they were in college.

He'd loved her for three years. Three long years of everyone but her apparently knowing, teasing him about it, and him still not being able to confess to her.

She loved him all that time. Well, most of it anyway.

He'd blown it. Their friendship would never be the same.

Somehow, his eyes escaped the bedsheets and looked out onto a plane ticket to San Diego somehow unnoticed and placed on his end table.

Letting the tears flow as he cried himself asleep, Lowery Cruthers debated leaving Seattle to mend the relationship of the only friend he'd ever known—and the only girl he'd ever loved.