….
1st March, 2016.
The NBC Thursday night lineup had been a cultural institution for over a decade.
Families scheduled dinners around it, college students planned their nights knowing they would be home by eight. Water usage across major cities measurably dropped during commercial breaks as people rushed to use bathrooms before their shows returned.
Tonight was different.
Tonight, NBC was gambling that institution on six unknown actors and a coffee shop.
Warren Littlefield stood behind the technical director, hands gripped behind his back, watching the broadcast feed with the intensity of a general observing a battlefield.
"Are the audio levels good?" he asked.
"Perfect." the sound engineer confirmed.
"Picture?"
"Clean."
Beside him, the head of comedy development checked her tablet. "Social media monitoring is active. We are tracking sentiment in real-time."
Littlefield nodded but didn't look away from the screen.
This was it.
Thirteen episodes ordered, significant marketing spend, a Thursday night slot that could make or break careers.
If Friends worked, it would anchor NBC's comedy block for years.
If it failed, every executive in this room would be answering uncomfortable questions by Monday.
The opening credits began.
…..
New York City | Random Upper West Side Apartment.
Maya sat on her couch with a bowl of popcorn balanced on her lap, her roommate Elfie sprawled on the floor with her back against the coffee table.
The TV was on, volume already adjusted, the previous show's credits rolling toward the commercial break.
"What do you think?" Elfie said, scrolling through her phone without looking up. "Six people sitting in a coffee shop talking? Can that even be called a show? That's just... life. Boring life."
"The promos looked funny." Maya offered, though her own conviction wavered slightly. She had been burned before by promising trailers that led to unwatchable shows.
"The promos for every sitcom look funny." Elfie countered. "Then you watch the actual episode and it's laugh track hell with jokes that were stale in the nineties. Remember that one we watched last month? The one with the quirky neighbor?"
Maya winced. "Don't remind me."
"You bet. We gave it fifteen minutes and wanted those fifteen minutes back."
Maya didn't argue further. Elfie had a valid point - most new sitcoms died within three episodes for excellent reasons. Weak writing, forced chemistry, concepts that sounded better in pitch meetings than they played on screen. The graveyard of failed sitcoms was vast and well-populated.
Still, something about the [Friends] ads had caught her attention. The writing felt sharper than usual, less formulaic. The setup was simple, almost deceptively so, but there was something in the rhythm of the dialogue, the way the actors played off each other even in thirty-second spots, that felt different.
"Just give it ten minutes." Maya said. "If it sucks, we will switch to something else. I promise."
Elfie shrugged, still not looking up from her phone. "Fine…. Whatever…."
The previous show ended. Commercials rolled - car insurance, fast food, a trailer for an action movie called [The Matrix], which kinda made them lift their heads, only to drop again once it was followed by another boring commercial.
Then the screen faded to black.
A beat of silence.
The opening shot appeared - New York City skyline, morning light catching the buildings just right, the familiar fountain that every New Yorker recognized even if they had never actually stopped to look at it properly.
Then the coffee shop - Central Perk.
The interior was warm, inviting, and lived-in.
And then Rachel burst through the door in a wedding dress.
Maya sat up slightly.
Elfie's scrolling slowed.
The first lines of dialogue hit - Rachel frantic, confused, trying to explain why she'd just run out on her own wedding. Monica's reaction, a mix of concern and exasperation that felt genuinely sisterly. The rest of the group responded with varying degrees of helpfulness.
"Aww, they look so cute…" Elife said after about ninety seconds.
"Ture…" Sarah murmured, but she was smiling.
The episode moved quickly. No slow setup, no excessive exposition, no characters stopping mid-scene to explain their relationships to each other for the audience's benefit. Rachel arrived, frantic and lost. The group reacted - some welcoming, some skeptical, all distinct.
Monica's neurotic energy, the way she straightened things that didn't need straightening while talking.
Ross's awkward crush, visible in every glance even when he wasn't speaking.
Chandler's deflective sarcasm, using humor like a shield.
Joey's earnest stupidity, genuine without being caricature.
Phoebe's cheerful weirdness, grounded enough to feel like a real person rather than a quirk generator.
Each character was introduced economically, through action and dialogue rather than explanation.
And somehow - it worked.
"They are all very unique…." Jessica admitted during a brief pause in dialogue.
"The writing's good." Sarah said. "Listen to how they talk. It sounds like real people."
Elfie made a noncommittal sound but didn't look away from the screen.
The first commercial break hit.
Neither of them moved.
Maya expected Jessica to immediately grab her phone, start scrolling, and disconnect. That was the test - if a show couldn't hold you through the commercial break, it had already lost.
But Elfie just sat there, staring at a car commercial without really seeing it.
"We are watching episode two, aren't we?" Maya asked.
"I need to check my schedule…" Jessica said defensively. "Also, it's only been eight minutes."
"I heard it will be available on Netflix after airing."
"Oh… that's kinda convenient."
The show returned.
Ross was trying to build furniture, failing spectacularly. The physical comedy was good - genuine timing, real commitment to the bit - but what sold it was everyone else's reactions.
The way Monica tried to help but made it worse and how Chandler offered commentary instead of assistance.
…and finally how Joey just watched like it was entertainment.
Maya found herself laughing.
Elfie laughed too.
….
Eighteen minutes in, the group was back at Central Perk.
The scene was simple - just a conversation that happens when friends had nothing particular to discuss but enjoyed each other's company enough that it didn't matter.
Behind them, barely visible, a barista moved around the counter.
Blond hair, neutral expression and completely unremarkable.
He set down a coffee cup, said something inaudible to another customer, and walked off-screen.
Maya barely registered with him.
Elfie didn't seem to notice at all.
The scene continued, the camera staying focused on the main cast.
Ross was talking about his ex-wife. The hurt was visible even through the attempt at casual discussion. Rachel was trying to be supportive but clearly had no idea how to navigate this kind of emotional terrain. Monica compensated by being aggressively helpful. Chandler made jokes to cut the tension.
It was a small scene. But–
"They are soooo… Good." Maya said quietly. "Like, all of them, the casting is perfect."
"I don't recognize any of them." Elfie said. "Are they all completely unknown?"
"I think so, I looked it up yesterday. None of them have done anything major."
"That's insane. The chemistry is too good for a first episode with unknowns."
Maya nodded. Chemistry was the thing you couldn't fake, couldn't manufacture in casting sessions or table reads. Either it existed or it didn't. And somehow, impossibly, these six actors had it.
The balcony scene arrived around the twenty-two-minute mark.
Ross and Rachel stood on Monica's balcony, ostensibly getting air, actually having one of those conversations that was about everything except what it was really about.
The dialogue was simple. But underneath - tension. History. Something unspoken threading through every word.
The chemistry was undeniable.
"Oh no." Elfie said.
"What?"
"I am invested." Elfie pointed at the screen. "In them. I want them to get together. It's episode one and I already want them to get together. That's not fair."
Maya grinned. "Welcome to caring about a sitcom."
"I didn't consent to this."
"Too late."
The episode was winding down now, moving toward its conclusion.
The pacing had been tight throughout - no wasted dialogues, no scenes that overstayed their welcome.
The final scene arrived.
The group sat together at Central Perk, laughing about something inconsequential, the kind of nothing moment that somehow meant everything when you were with the right people.
The camera pulled back slowly, widening to show the entire coffee shop.
And there, behind the counter - clearly visible now - was the barista.
Blond, quiet and watching them with a faint, unreadable expression.
He wiped down the counter one more time, methodical and unhurried, then disappeared into the back.
Maya noticed him this time.
Something about the movement, the framing, felt deliberate. Like the camera wanted you to see him without drawing attention to the fact that you were seeing him.
"Who's the barista?" she asked.
Elfie squinted at the screen. "No idea, background character?"
"Maybe."
The scene faded.
Credits rolled.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Elfie sat up from the floor, turning to face Sarah with an expression of mild betrayal.
"Okay." she said slowly. "That was actually good."
Maya grinned. "Told you."
"I am not saying it's great…." Elfie clarified. "But definitely down for the second episode."
"Next week?"
"Next week." Elfie confirmed.
Maya pulled out her phone, curiosity getting the better of her. Twitter was already slowly getting the sniff of the show.
She scrolled through reactions:
….
@ComedyFan92: "okay i wasn't expecting much but Friends is actually REALLY good??"
@SkepticalViewer: "That was... surprisingly solid. I will watch episode 2"
@TVAddict: "The chemistry between these actors is insane for a pilot. How did they find six unknowns this good"
@4Ever: "I ship it already I don't care if it's episode one I SHIP IT"
@SitcomHater: "Fine. FINE. It was good. Happy now?"
….
The reactions were overwhelmingly positive, not universal - nothing ever was - but the ratio of enthusiasm to criticism was startlingly high for a new show.
"Guess we are not the only ones who liked it." Maya reported.
Elfie leaned over to look at the screen. "Huh. Maybe we are not idiots for liking it."
"Or maybe we're all idiots together."
"That's the spirit."
Maya kept scrolling, reading reactions, watching as the conversation grew and spread. Fan accounts were already being created. Ship names were being proposed. People were debating which character was the best, which actor stole the show, whether the Ross-Rachel thing would actually happen or just be endless teasing.
Then she saw it.
A thread, buried slightly but gaining traction:
….
@FilmTheoryGuy: "Okay this is gonna sound insane but did anyone else think the barista looked familiar?"
@CasualWatcher: "The blond guy? no why"
@FilmTheoryGuy: "I swear I've seen him before. can't place it though"
@SkepticalFan: "It's probably just an actor. background casting"
@FilmTheoryGuy: "Yeah probably. Still bugging me though"
….
Maya almost mentioned it to Elfie, then decided against it.
It was probably nothing.
Just someone's face triggering vague recognition, the way strangers sometimes did.
She set her phone down.
"So." Elfie said. "What should we eat now?"
"Already hungry?" .
"Yah, I didn't notice it while watching the show."
"Well, I can't blame you."
….
LIE Studios | Screening Room.
Regal sat in the back row, watching the broadcast feed on the large screen.
Marta and David sat a few rows ahead, holding hands without realizing it. Their posture was rigid, bodies tense with the kind of anxiety that came from watching something you'd created be judged in real-time by millions of people.
Samantha stood near the door, monitoring live reactions across multiple platforms.
Simon sat beside Regal, silent, waiting.
The room was dark except for the glow from the screen.
No one spoke.
They had already seen the episode. Multiple times. In editing, in test screenings, in the final color-corrected version that NBC approved for broadcast.
But this was different.
This was real.
Regal watched the opening scene play out 0 Rachel in the wedding dress, the group's reactions, the setup establishing itself with economy and precision.
The episode continued.
At the eighteen-minute mark, his scene arrived.
Central Perk, the group on the couch and behind them, barely visible, Gunther making coffee.
Regal watched himself on screen with the detached interest of someone evaluating a technical problem.
The performance was exactly what they'd needed - unremarkable, functional, background. A person doing their job while more interesting things happened around them.
No one in this room reacted to his appearance.
They had all known he was playing the role.
But out there, in living rooms across the country, most people wouldn't notice.
That was intentional.
Regal had deliberately avoided any publicity about his casting, except for the careful leak he planned with the MeTuber DJ.
And when asked directly, the studio had given vague non-answers, without any valid confirmation.
Because the moment it became 'Regal Seraphsail's acting debut,' the focus shifted.
It stopped being about [Friends] and became about him.
And this show didn't need that weight.
It needed to stand on its own… at least for now, as he doubted it won't stay hidden for too long before he had to conform.
….
The episode moved toward its conclusion.
The final scene at Central Perk, the camera pulling back to show the full space. Gunther was visible behind the counter, watching the group with that quiet, unreadable expression Lena had directed him toward.
Then the fadeout.
Credits rolled.
For a long moment, no one in the screening room moved.
Then Marta started tearing, while she stared at the screen. David put his arm around her, his own eyes suspiciously bright.
"I still can't believe we made it through." Marta whispered.
Regal stood, walking down to their row.
"Preliminary numbers are strong." Samantha reported. "Very strong actually, ratings are tracking above projections."
"Next week's the real test." David said. "Anyone can watch a pilot out of curiosity. The question is whether they will come back."
"They will come back." Regal said with conviction. "They have to. It's too good not to."
Samantha's tablet chimed, she glanced down, eyebrows rising slightly.
"NBC just sent preliminary ratings." she said. "Eighteen million viewers."
Silence.
"Eighteen million?" Marta repeated.
"Eighteen point two, to be exact, subject to adjustment, but that's the early estimate."
David laughed, a slightly hysterical sound. "That's... that's huge for a pilot."
Marta wiped her eyes, composing herself.
Eighteen million people had just watched something they had built from nothing. Watching six unknown actors become a family as a coffee shop becomes a world.
And tomorrow, those people will talk about it.
At work, at school, online.
They would debate which character was funniest, whether Ross and Rachel should get together, what the dynamic meant.
They would invest.
And if enough of them came back next week, and the week after that, then maybe - just maybe - they had built something that would last.
Samantha was still scrolling through social media reactions, occasionally reading particularly notable ones aloud.
Then she paused.
"There's a thread gaining traction." she said carefully. "About Gunther."
Simon, who'd been silent throughout, finally spoke. "I was thinking how long it would take before you conform it yourself."
Regal considered. "Three episodes, maybe four."
"And then?"
"Then it won't matter, by that point, the show will have its own momentum. It won't need me."
That was the plan.
Give Friends time to establish itself on its own merits before the reveal shifts the narrative.
Let the characters breathe before the meta-conversation took over.
Marta stood, stretching. "I need a drink, possibly several drinks."
"I will join you." David said immediately.
They headed for the door, still holding hands, still processing.
Samantha followed, giving Regal a brief nod.
Simon remained.
"Your acting was great." he said quietly.
"I barely get to watch much of me." Regal replied.
Simon said. "You know, I am glad we decided to produce this show."
"Woah, you have never said that even for multi million projects…"
"Right, even I was surprised at how satisfied I am feeling right now."
"That's what good producing is."
Simon didn't comment. He just nodded.
….
.
[To be continued…]
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