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The Aftermath studio buzzed with activity, the frenetic energy of the show winding down as crew members dismantled cameras, coiled cables, and packed up the harsh lights.
Blaineley dashed across the stage, her heels clicking sharply against the floor as she tried to shake off the interns trailing behind her. She muttered complaints about her dubious win in the Aftermath’s challenge—a victory that came with the clearly unwanted reward of being sent to the main show.
But with the circus over, a strange quiet settled in, as if the chaos had never happened.
The competitors who had been subjected to yet another round of humiliation were now being tended to by a local medic—nothing too serious, just bumps and bruises from the show’s endless parade of sadistic stunts and sabotage.
Through it all, Gwen and Trent remained on the well-worn "loser couch," a quiet bubble in the middle of the now-muted chaos. The absence of the cameras’ gaze felt strangely comforting, as though the air had finally cleared.
It was the first time since Total Drama Action that they’d exchanged so much as a word. Not even a passing hello during the downtime between seasons.
They couldn’t have been on more different paths: For Trent, the dream of a successful music career still burned brightly. For Gwen, after the messiness of his participation on the show, the thought of blending back into the world was a quiet victory.
“I’m just glad it’s over,” Gwen said with a relieved sigh, sinking back into the couch. “Guess it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”
“Not the worst,” Trent agreed, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “They definitely tried something different this time.”
“Like what? Torturing us less?” Gwen quipped, letting out a light laugh as she shook her head. “Pretty sure that’s still the daily special on this show.”
“Nah, I mean like the last Aftermath,” Trent said, leaning back with a dry chuckle. “We were literally tied down, waiting for ‘Brainzilla’—”
Gwen turned to him, her expression puzzled. “Oh, right, Izzy—to deactivate a fake bomb... which, of course, went off anyway.” He paused, glancing at her. “At least, that’s what I was told. I can’t really remember much of it. All I know is I woke up the next day with my ears ringing and a couple of busted ribs.”
“Man,” Gwen replied, her eyes widening. “I thought the Aftermath shows were supposed to be calmer. Like, noisy and chaotic, sure, but not life-threatening.”
“Well, that time we were doing a fundraiser,” Trent said with a shrug. “Raising a million bucks to get you guys out of Jamaica.”
Gwen scoffed, leaning back again. “Now I know where Chris got the money for all the new hair equipment on the plane.”
His face twisting with mock realization. “Oh…” Trent leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Honestly? I wouldn’t mind being Tyler’s nurse over what I’ve been dealing with lately.” He gave a short laugh, though it barely reached his eyes.
“What do you mean?” Gwen tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her gaze. “Is your music career getting too dramatic?”
Trent snorted. “That’s putting it lightly. Justin’s practically checked out at this point. He’s always late—if he even bothers to show up—and when he does, it’s all about photo shoots for his fan account. And don’t even think about giving him instructions. One time, I told him to keep it simple during a rehearsal, and he threw a tambourine at me .”
The image made Gwen chuckle despite herself.
“No, seriously!” Trent said, half offended. “It might sound harmless, but tambourines have sharp metal edges. That thing could’ve left a mark!”
“Sounds like classic diva behavior,” Gwen replied dryly, smirking. “He always did seem more into the mirror than anything else.”
“Exactly.” Trent shook his head, frustration bleeding into his tone. “Then there’s Harold. The guy’s crazy talented, no question, but he’s got one foot out the door. Keeps talking about how we should ‘reinvent the genre’ with rap and electronic beats. I mean, I respect the passion, but how are we supposed to get anywhere when he’s trying to change the direction of the band every five minutes?”
“What about Cody?” Gwen asked, leaning back thoughtfully. “He’s got to be the most coherent one after you, right?”
Trent let out a dry laugh. “You’d think so. Cody’s… Cody,” he said, his tone caught between amusement and exasperation. “He’s surprisingly into the technical side of things—dude can nerd out over chord progressions for hours—but he’s way too distracted by groupies. Half the time, I’m dragging him away from flirting just to get him to pick up his keyboard.”
“Sounds like you’re the group’s babysitter,” Gwen quipped, though her voice carried a thread of genuine sympathy. “Or maybe its soon-to-be ex-babysitter.”
“Nah, we’re still sticking together for now,” Trent admitted with a half-shrug. “Everyone thinks that we bring more to the table as a group than we ever could as solo artists. And, to be fair, there have been times when we’ve clicked really well. Like, when Harold came back from the show, we all teamed up to help him profess his eternal love to Leshawna.”
He chuckled at the memory. “We were actually in sync for once. Justin stayed on tempo, Harold nailed his rap section, and whatever tall creature replaced Cody that day wasn’t half bad either.”
“Oof, rough day for Cody,” Gwen said, smirking. “But hey, at least you’ve got a backup plan for him.”
“Maybe, if he gets abducted by aliens , sure.”
“Honestly? Not the most far-fetched scenario. Given that we passed through Area 51,” Gwen shifted to a faux grim tone. “They may have replaced Cody with one of them . I'll sleep with an eye open from now on.”
Trent chuckled, shaking her head. “Fair point. Though if Cody did get abducted, Chris wouldn’t allow it… right?” Trent said, softening as he thought for a moment.
Gwen scoffed, raising an eyebrow, “Chris would’ve found a way to make it part of the show, no doubt.” She shifted to look at him, shaking her head. “You’ve definitely been away from the game too long.”
“Eh,” Trent shrugged. “It’s not like I’m dying to get back. Sure, I’d love a million dollars, but at what cost?”
“Yeah, plenty of people think that money’s already cursed… ever since season one,” Gwen said with a nod. “You’re better off just enjoying the chaos from the couch.”
“...Unless Geoff tries another telethon,” Trent replied, shaking his head. “No, I just need to stay here and keep writing music. I’ve got a contract for three more months after the show ends.”
“You don’t sound thrilled about that,” Gwen noted, her tone softening.
Trent exhaled heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s been… tense. I wanted this, you know? A real music career. And now, with the show wrapping up, I’m stuck wondering—do I leave the group and try something on my own? Or do I stay and squeeze whatever is left out of the attention we’re getting? It’s not an easy call.”
“I get that,” Gwen said, her expression softening as she studied him. “But hey, everyone’s gotta start somewhere, right? You just have to make the jump.”
"Can’t argue with that," Trent said with a weary chuckle. “For what it’s worth, we’ve had some amazing times. Traveling, partying—it’s been like nothing else. Honestly, we wouldn’t have hit those highs if it weren’t for Morgan.”
“Morgan?” Gwen tilted her head, her interest piqued. “Who’s that?”
“Oh,” Trent said, feigning surprise. “Our manager. She introduced herself pretty quickly after the show ended.”
Gwen leaned in slightly, silently encouraging Trent to elaborate on his manager’s accomplishments.
“She just… knew how to handle us and what direction to take with our music. We sold out local stadiums in our first week under her management. That’s just talent, if you ask me,”
“So, she’s the one pulling the strings?” Gwen asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Pretty much. She even organized our outfits, and insisted I wear that white turtleneck for our debut shoot. It was comfy… but wearing that in the middle of summer?” He tugged at his collar for effect. “Yeah, no thanks.”
“I mean, you looked good,” Gwen teased, smirking. “For boy band standards, anyway.”
Trent chuckled, shaking his head as her awkward attempt at a backhanded compliment earned an amused grin. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it—I looked like a walking scoop of vanilla ice cream.”
Gwen laughed at the comparison. “It worked, didn’t it? Morgan got the effect she wanted.”
“Yeah,” Trent admitted, his voice growing quieter. “She’s got it all figured out.” His tone softened, lacking the humor from before. “She says if I let her handle things, she can make me huge—like, international. She really believes I can be the next big thing.”
Gwen raised an eyebrow, sensing where this might be headed. “And what does that involve?”
“Well,” Trent began, rubbing the back of his neck, “she says that after the show ends, I need to rebuild my image. You know, become ‘Trent’ again.” He raised his hands to emphasize the name with air quotes.
Gwen’s expression shifted into confusion, her brows knitting together.
Noticing her puzzled expression, Trent quickly jumped in to explain. “You know, the quiet, mysterious guy with just enough charm to keep people intrigued.”
Gwen frowned. “So… no saying what you actually think unless it’s approved? That sounds, I don’t know, dystopian if you ask me.”
Trent chuckled softly, not taking into account Gwen's tone. His voice carries a mix of excitement and nervousness. “Yeah, maybe, but if I just follow her lead and stick to the plan, I could actually make it. Like, playing stadiums, topping charts… all the things I’ve dreamed about since I was a kid.” For a moment, his eyes lit up, the weight of his doubts momentarily replaced with naive enthusiasm.
“But at what cost?” Gwen asked, her tone thoughtful but concerned.
Trent blinked, as if the question hadn’t fully registered. “Well, isn’t that just part of the process? You’ve got to play the game to win, right? Once I’ve made it to the top, I’ll have the freedom to do things my way. I just have to get there first.”
Gwen hummed softly, the tension in her brow deepening. “I hope it works out like that, Trent. But fame’s tricky, it can eat you alive if you are not careful. Just look at Chris. The man’s pushing fifty and still clinging to the thrill of fame like his life depends on it.”
Trent smiled, though unease crept into his eyes at the idea of becoming like the sadistic host. “Yeah, well… guess I’ll find out soon enough.”
“Well,” Gwen said, her voice soft but firm, “it’s your dream, after all. Who am I to judge? Just promise me—if things ever get too much or you start feeling trapped, you’ll reach out. Okay?”
Trent’s smile softened into something more genuine, an expression of gratitude lighting up his face. “Thanks, Gwen. That… that really means a lot.” He hesitated, his gaze drifting to a distant point. “Although… there’s also the fans.”
Movement caught Gwen’s attention, and she followed Trent’s gaze to see what had drawn his focus. Katie and Sadie stood a short distance away, their hands waving enthusiastically as they motioned for Trent to come over. He glanced their way, lifting a hand in acknowledgment before signaling for them to wait.
Gwen smirked, her gaze flickering between the girls and Trent. “I see,” she said, barely holding back a chuckle. “That's another perk of fame, huh?”
“Yeah,” Trent muttered, his tone carrying a mix of gratitude and unease. He shifted slightly, “They’re the ones who push our music, promote it. It’s… nice, I guess.”
“Wow, take it easy, Cowboy. Don’t let all that gratitude go to your head,” she teased, a playful glint in her eyes. She gave a slight nod, adding, “And those carriages full of love letters from last season? You seemed pretty thrilled to get them.”
Trent couldn’t help but grin awkwardly. “Don’t get me wrong, I do appreciate them. Fans can take something small and make it huge. One minute you’re irrelevant, the next you’re trending because of them.” He paused, his smile fading slightly. “It’s just... sometimes, it’s all too much.”
Gwen leaned back, crossing her arms as her smirk widened. “Fans waving at you, screaming your name, sneaking into your hotel room like you’re a rock god. You’ve got it so rough," she said, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm.
Trent shivered, the memory clearly unpleasant. “Don’t remind me. There was this one girl—that somehow, she’s up in the game—who scaled a ten-meter wall just to grab some ‘souvenirs’ from Cody.”
“Sierra?” Gwen asked, startled. “If she didn’t get them then, she definitely got them now. Being stuck on a plane with her idol? That’s like her dream come true.”
“Yeah,” Trent said, visibly shivering again. “You have no idea how hard it is to deal with relentless screams and too many handmade friendship bracelets.”
“Not the bracelets!” Gwen said, rolling her eyes. “How will you survive?”
“Do you even know what I mean by handmade?” Trent replied, as he shuddered again.
Gwen paused, squinting in mock contemplation as her laughter faded. “… were they, like… recycled materials?”
Trent shook his head, his expression tinged with pity as he looked at her, choosing to spare her the foul details. “One of them once showed up at the studio with cupcakes and a three-page letter about our ‘cosmic connection,’” Trent said, shaking his head. “I had to hide in the break room until she left.”
“You’ve got your own personal fan club-slash-cult. Congrats, I guess,” Gwen teased, resting her chin on her hand. A sudden memory surfaced, and Gwen couldn’t help but smirk. “I still remember, It all started with those nine songs, didn’t it?”
Trent groaned, immediately burying his face in his hands. “Oh no, please just bury me now.”
Nine songs—dedicated poems to his past relationship, written for her. They captured the way she made him feel alive, and gave him something to look forward to. Each song was a blend of rose-tinted lyrics painting an idealized version of Gwen and corny melodies sweet enough to give anyone a sugar rush.
Now, with the relationship long behind him, all Trent feels is a sting of embarrassment, despite his fans’ insistence that they’re a flawless collection.
Gwen chuckled, clearly amused by his reaction. “Hey, Relax. I haven’t even listened to them properly,” she admitted, her smirk widening. “Figured it’d just throw more fuel on the fire.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Trent said, exhaling sharply and finally meeting her gaze. “Probably better to keep it that way. Not exactly my best moment…” He trailed off, catching himself, his expression faltering. “N-not because I didn’t mean it or anything. I wrote them sincerely, I swear, it’s just…”
“I get it… I’m sorry,” Gwen interjected suddenly, her voice softer, her teasing smile fading.
“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Trent replied quickly, waving her off. “I’m the one who acted like a total weirdo.”
“You… didn’t,” Gwen countered gently. “You just expressed yourself differently. That’s not a bad thing.”
His lips pulled into a faint, disbelieving grin. “Come on, Gwen, that’s a stretch.” Trent paused, running a hand through his hair, then let out an exaggerated whistle. “It was just… bad timing, you know? I’d a lot in my head, and…” then he trailed off into an uncomfortable silence, suddenly deeply in thought.
“Well,” Gwen said, quickly shifting the topic as she noticed his momentary disassociation, “It did help you build a pretty loyal following.”
“Oh, yeah,” Trent came back from his thoughts, as he let out a dry laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s where it all started. Guess the songs weren’t completely pointless.”
A flicker of pain flashed in her eyes before she quickly composed herself. “Well, not entirely pointless. Every now and then, a wave of fans would flood my comment section just to remind me how awful I was.” Gwen said jokingly, though the underlying pain was impossible to miss.
“I remember,” Trent said, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “There was never any middle ground in those fights. None. That’s why I made a rule: no more dating anyone from the game.” He shook his head, his gaze momentarily distant. “Morgan was all for it, too,” He added, leaning back against the couch. “She keeps insisting I stay single, maybe date casually, but nothing serious.”
“I see,” Gwen replied simply, her tone neutral, though her curious gaze lingered on him.
Trent noticed the awkward silence he settled between them and cleared his throat, shifting slightly. “I’m sorry about that, really. For everything—any inconvenience, any trouble I caused. You’re… you’re a really great person, and I’ve never had the guts to tell you that.” he said sincerely.
Gwen didn’t reply—she simply kept smiling, unsure of what to say or how to respond. Deep down, a part of her wondered if, after this season, Trent’s fans might have been right all along.
“But if it’s any consolation” Trent continued. “I haven’t exactly been living the high life. Most of my time’s been spent in the studio, and my dating life?” He chuckled dryly. “Basically limited to texting. And, well… you can guess how well that usually turns out.” He nudged her lightly, a faint grin tugging at his lips, attempting to ease the mood.
“Hm.” Gwen muttered thoughtfully, though the faint smile on her lips didn’t quite reach her eyes. After a moment, she turned to him, her voice quieter but sharp. “You… never messaged me.”
Trent froze, the question catching him off guard. He let out a nervous laugh, his hand moving to the back of his neck. “Well, it would’ve been… awkward, right? I mean, I wouldn’t have known what to say.”
His attempt to deflect didn’t land. Gwen’s expression shifted, her gaze dropping as a shadow of hurt flashed across her face. “You just had to send it,” she said softly, her voice carrying a note of disappointment. “I was right there.”
Trent opened his mouth to respond but faded, the words catching somewhere in between his thoughts. ‘ So, there was a chance… there was a chance.’ The realization hit him hard, pulling him into a spiral of regret. ‘If only… I hadn’t been such a coward. If only I hadn’t let myself drown in self-pity.’
He had tried—in his own flawed way. Tried to get her attention, to reach her, even if his efforts may have pushed her further away. The burden of it made him want to smack his forehead against the nearest wall, but instead, he let out a quiet sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes shifted away from hers.
“I know,” Trent finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know.”
Gwen studied him, her expression softening as it mirrored the pity she had felt when their relationship ended. She sighed. “Maybe I should have sent you a message. I don’t know… I was the one who ended it. I would’ve felt… strange.”
Trent didn’t respond. His gaze remained fixed on some distant point, lost in thought.
Gwen shook her head, a flicker of frustration crossing her expression.
It was clear that some things about him hadn’t changed. That same passiveness, that hesitation, had been a barrier between them before—and it was still there.
She had heard about his songs, seen the flood of messages from his fans. Supporters of their former relationship had invaded her inbox, cheering for a reconciliation. But deep down, she knew it would’ve led to the same cycle.
‘How can I give a chance to someone who doesn’t even reach out?’ she thought, shaking her head slightly. ‘Someone who still can’t let their feelings be known?’
Trent’s voice broke through her thoughts, low and self-defeating. “I know I should have,” he said, pulling himself back from his spiral. “But… you were already into Duncan by then. I mean, what was the point?”
Gwen blinked, caught off guard by his bluntness. Memories of her old video blogs flashed through her mind, the moments when Duncan’s name had come up more often than she’d realized. “I… I was just answering questions,” she said, her voice faltering as she searched for the right words. “It wasn’t like… like anything was happening before the show.”
Trent hesitated, his eyes meeting hers briefly. “Maybe. But you were already into him, Gwen. I could tell… well, everybody could tell.”
Her cheeks flushed at his reasoning. “That has nothin—!” She stopped herself, crossing her hands. “Okay… it’s not like it matters anymore.”
“Sorry,” Trent murmured, his voice low.
Her breath hitched, the weight of his words settling heavily between them. She wanted to argue, to deny it, to save her own pride. But instead, she let out a quiet sigh.
“Hey,” Trent said softly, his gaze flickering toward her. “Don’t be ashamed of loving someone… even if it’s someone like Duncan.” He muttered the last part under his breath, almost as if it had slipped out unintentionally.
Trent had always known. The guy Gwen said not to worry about had become her boyfriend. It wasn’t surprising, but it still stung.
The open secret of their chemistry had been splashed across Total Drama blogs for months, making it impossible to escape. Unsurprisingly, the rumors spilled over to her green blog as well. It was hard to ignore when her own chat was buzzing with speculation.
And while he was glad they broke up before Duncan started “hunting” her, it didn’t make it easier to swallow. Trent knew, deep down, that Duncan would’ve gone after Gwen regardless of whether she had a boyfriend or not. That was just the kind of guy Duncan was—bold, reckless, and unbothered by morals.
He’s far from Trent’s favorite person, and he never will be. But what truly matters is who Trent has standing by his side.
“He… gets me,” Gwen finally said, her voice soft but steady. She paused, as if searching for the right words to explain something she herself was still trying to figure out. “He may not be the best person to be around, but he gets me, you know?”
Trent nodded, though his heart sank a little more. It wasn’t just about Duncan anymore, he truly wanted the best for Gwen. “I just want you to be happy,” he said, his voice gentle but genuine. “If it’s with him, then… so be it. But if he ever tries something stupid, let me know.”
Gwen chuckled, her usual dry humor cutting through the heaviness. “Yeah, Leshawna’s one step ahead of you on that. But thanks. I’ll take you into account. I promise.”
For a moment, there was silence between them, not awkward but reflective. They weren’t the same people they had been when they first met. They had both changed, grown apart, but there was still a mutual respect, a shared history that couldn’t be erased. Trent had loved her once, and maybe a part of him always would, but he understood now that things had moved on.
The camera crew had already packed up the heavy equipment, and in just a few minutes, everyone still on set would be ushered out—no exceptions.
They stood up from the red couch, the once-busy studio is now fading into stillness. It was the perfect backdrop for a calm goodbye.
Trent started first, extending a hand in polite formality—a gesture after what felt like a long-overdue conversation neither had wanted to start but both had needed to finish. Now, they could finally meet each other’s eyes and offer sincere wishes for what lay ahead.
Gwen glanced at his outstretched hand, a small chuckle escaping her lips. “Come here, idiot,” she said, closing the distance between them and pulling him into a warm hug.
It was bittersweet, but necessary—a hug that spoke of understanding and closure.
“I expect you to save me a couple of tickets when you’re super famous,” Gwen added, her tone light but genuine.
Trent chuckled, feeling the warmth of her embrace and the sincerity in her words. “Of course—front row,” he promised with a grin.