#so this is also why the older actors were in the spotlight more

[drewharrisonwriter]

Is that alright?

Pairings: Henry Cavill x Singer Reader

Summary: You are a musical guest in The Graham Norton Show on an episode that also features your ex-boyfriend, Henry Cavill. You play your latest single that you've written when you were 18 and in love with Henry.

A/N: Implied previous relationship. I don't think there are any more warnings, except the delusional situation that I've concocted. LOL This is based on the song Is That Alright? by Lady Gaga from The Star Is Born movie.

Check out my fic masterlist.

As the stage lights dimmed, the audience of The Graham Norton Show erupted in applause, eagerly anticipating the next musical guest. The cameras panned to the artist nervously waiting in the wings. You took a deep breath and stepped into the spotlight, gently sitting down on the chair and placing your hands on the ivory keys.

With grace and confidence, you began playing your latest single which took you nearly 10 years to release. A song you've written when you were so deeply in love with the love of your life, Henry Cavill.

As you began to sing, your voice resonated with a depth of emotion that captivated everyone in the room.

When the last note faded into silence, the applause was thunderous. 

You took a gracious bow and went over to the red couch where the guests for the night were all on their feet, applauding as well and congratulating you on your heartfelt performance. 

Henry, being a guest as well that night, caught your eye as he extended a hand to shake yours. You gave him a warm smile as you shook his hand. 

"Y/N, that was absolutely stunning." Graham began when the greetings and applause were over. "This single is truly heartbreakingly beautiful. Tell us about it!" He asked enthusiastically.

You glanced at Graham, taking a moment to collect your thoughts. This was the question you were both expecting and dreading.

"Thank you, Graham." You began nervously. 

It wasn't that it was your first ever TV guesting, but it is the first time you were sharing the screen with your now excessively famous ex, Henry Cavill. Talking about the song you wrote about your relationship with him nearly ten years ago is a bit embarrassing on your end. 

"Yes, 'Is That Alright?' is a very personal song for me. I actually wrote it when I was 18 years old, so like almost ten years ago when I was deeply in love with someone who meant the world to me."

The audience watched intently, unaware of the connection between you and the other guest on the show, Henry Cavill. But Henry, caught off guard by your revelation, nearly choked on his Martini but tried to play it cool as he waited for you to continue. 

"Ten years?!" Graham exclaimed a little exaggeratedly. "Why did it take you that long to release this gem?" 

You laughed a little, hoping you looked cool and calm enough. 

"The long answer or the short answer?" You joked and everyone laughed. 

Even Henry was laughing, you were always funny, and he was amazed you were able to preserve your humor and wit despite the nerve-wracking fame you've garnered over the years. 

"How long will the long answer take?" Graham quipped.

"However long it takes the crew to give me five shots of tequila." The studio erupted with laughter, Graham was laughing behind the cards in his hands. 

"No, I'm sorry." You began, "Okay. So for real, this song holds immense significance to me, it’s a sort of love letter, you see… and these are the words I wanted to let the person I wrote it for know but I never had the chance to.” 

You saw Henry bit his lower lip and look down on the drink in his hand. 

"Why weren’t you able to give this ‘love letter’ to them?” One of the guests asked as you were drinking.

“He broke up with me.” You said shyly and laughter ensued once again. 

“How old were you again when you wrote this?” One of the older guests on the couch asked, an actor, that you can’t remember the name of but looks an awful lot like Nearly Headless Nick from Harry Potter. 

"Just 18. I was so young when I wrote it..." 

"You were binge drinking at 18, you were not THAT young," Graham said in jest and everyone laughed once again. 

You chuckled along with the audience, appreciating Graham's lightheartedness amidst the delicate subject. From your peripherals, you saw that Henry was looking in your direction, he was laughing, too. 

The conversation flowed, everyone on the couch asked their question or complimented your latest single, except for Henry. Graham, noticing how awfully quiet he was, asked, “And Henry, how do you find Y/N’s latest single?” 

You felt a lump form in your throat, you did your best to swallow your drink and as Graham asked Henry.

Henry chuckled, looking down at his drink a bit before looking at you and saying: “It’s beautiful.”

“Awfully unfeeling.” Graham quipped with a fake whisper and eye roll and laughter ensued once again. 

You laughed at Graham’s remark, too and thanked Henry. 

When the show ended, you made your way backstage to hurriedly gather your things when you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You turned to find Henry standing at the door of your dressing room. “Hi…” He said softly. You said a quiet hello and asked him to come in. 

“I’m so sorry, but…” He began as you zipped your bag. “Do you have any plans for tonight?” 

You straightened up and faced Henry, blinking fast trying to absorb what he just asked. 

“Uh…just go back to the hotel and that’s it. Order room service, maybe.” You answered honestly, feeling your face turn warm in slight embarrassment for your lack of fun plans for the night. 

He chuckled lightly, “May I interest you with a Pint?” 

You might have stared at him a little too long before answering, because you saw him lightly cock his head to the side. “Uhm… sure.” You managed to say, finally. 

“Perfect. Meet you outside in 10 minutes?” He said with a huge smile, and you only nodded in reply. You watched him walk out the dressing room, the smile never leaving his face. 

You were a bit shocked.

It’s been nearly a decade since you’ve last seen or spoken to Henry. But the last few minutes… they didn’t feel like much time passed. You sat down and breathed, you can do this… 

It’s just Henry. 

It’s just Henry.

TBC...

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill #henry cavill fic #henry cavill x #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x singer reader #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x plus size reader #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x you

[eviesaurusrex]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ɴɪɢʜᴛ | ᴄ. ᴇᴠᴀɴꜱ

GIFs by the amazing @henricavyll

Dad!Chris Evans x Wife!Reader (DiCaprio!Reader)

summary: It’s the Lightyear world premiere in L.A.—and everyone is asking where Chris’ wife, YN, and their kids are.

word count: 3.5k

warnings: fluff, more fluff, mentions of complicated pregnancy, really short mention of traumatic child labor and death of both mother and child, double the fluff, not really proofread because I’m tired

author’s note: I don’t know where this came from. But I also don’t care because it’s my first Chris piece, and I’m excited. And for age’s sake: Leo is 15-20 years older than he actually is because I kinda forgot that he is only 47 after I already finished this one xD

“I’m standing here with actor Chris Evans on this beautiful sunny afternoon. How are you, Chris?” One of the many interviewer asked, and the man grinned shortly to the camera before focusing back on the woman in front of him, holding a microphone right under his nose. She was nervous; he could see that, so he didn’t say anything about it. He understood her on a different level. “Hi, Susan. We really had luck with the weather, didn’t we? And I’m great, thanks. I mean, how could I not be great?” He grinned again and pushed his sunglasses up. “I probably would feel the same when I voiced my longtime favorite character! How did your kids react? You have two, right?”

At the mention of his two sunbeams back home, the father couldn’t help but smile softly. It may have taken a long while to find the perfect woman and the love of his life and an even longer while to create these two joys in his life, but Chris thanked the universe every single day for the honor of having them in his life.

“I have two wonderful and beautiful children, yes, and number three is on their way. My eldest, Ophelia, was over the moon when I left my study a few months back after I had just wrapped up the call with my manager and Disney and were allowed to talk about it. She, of course, eavesdropped because she just loves to do it when it contains me and my study. And she had picked up on some parts of the conversation and had bounced up and down and asked me nonstop if it’s true and I’m playing Buzz. It’s her favorite Toy Story character, so I had a bit of pressure while doing the actual work.” He showed his thumb and pointer moving very closely together and chuckled. “Who am I kiddin’, I had a lot of pressure,” he laughed, and Susan laughed with him. “I only can imagine how it is with such a harsh critique living under the same roof. How did your second child react?” Chris grinned again, and it was visible for everyone to see in this world how much he adored his two children. “My son Aiden was much more chilled. Well, it’s not science because he only objects if someone dares to steal his share of ice cream—or cuddle time with his mom. He had only shrugged after Ophelia had screamed through the living room that I was voicing Buzz, but he was kinda excited after we watched it for the first time and heard my voice. Y’know, to see your own kids become happy and have those big round eyes just like you at your first Disney movie and the birth of your first movie heroes? It’s something entirely else. And to witness this moment while they watched Lightyear? Mindblowing, really.”

His chest was swelled with pride, and everyone around gushed over the epitome of proud fatherhood Chris was in this very moment. And he didn’t mind because he could boast all day long about his kids—and wife. Speaking of which…

“This is probably the sweetest story I’ve ever heard. Thank you for sharing this very intimate insight of your family life with us, Chris,” the interviewer thanked him with a genuine smile, but Chris only waved it off. They might keep their kids out of the spotlight to grant them the childhood he had been gifted by his parents, but they never stopped talking about them when people asked. “Is it okay if I ask about your wife and why she isn’t here today? She usually is at all your premieres and vice versa. I barely can remember a time without her at your side or you at hers, to be quite honest. You two really found one another.” Chris nodded in absolute agreement. “We really did. It was unexpected and kinda bumpy—quite literally.”

The husband remembered their first encounter at one of the Oscar Afterparties vividly where the stunning woman had bumped into him—and had driven the heel of her painful stilettos into his shoe. Ever since the actor saw these shoes with other eyes. He returned back to reality. “But we pushed through the obstacles, and I am the lucky bastard she had agreed to marry. Lucky me.” He chuckled under his breath and shook his head. YN would hit him as soon as she saw this interview, and maybe she sat in front of the tv at this very moment and watched him gushing over their family. “But back to your question, Susan. YN is currently at home, maybe watching this interview and throwing a pillow to the tv because she is heavily pregnant and can’t get up without help anymore.” Chris grinned straight into the camera. “I’m sorry, love!” He almost shouted after the exposure of her struggling state he almost loved the most about her being pregnant.

He just was a sucker for his wife when she called for him to help her with the easiest of tasks and boss him around as if there was no tomorrow. But he was a happily obliging husband because, after all, her state had been his fault. Something he would always be proud of.

“She wanted to come with me, but the doctor had put her on bed rest for the time being after we experienced a tiny scare of our little one two weeks back.” The same icy cold feeling ran his back up and down, just the same he had felt during the few hours of panic and anxiety in the depths of night when their unborn child tried to greet them earlier than agreed. And gladly, as stubborn his wife could be, she kept her word and watched out for herself and the little bub instead of ignoring every warning and trying to go head first through every wall possible. His father-in-law was a great help on days like this when Chris couldn’t be at home to watch out for his love and his tiny love. “I am sorry to hear that. But now, everything is back on track and in order?” The actor nodded, relieved. “So far, yes. But it still means I have to attend these without her calming presence, and let me tell’ya: it’s freaking scary.” And then, he laughed and shook his head. “I’ve never expected to be so lost without her. I almost forgot to lace my shoes because my head was all over the place,” he let out and still couldn’t believe how his life had changed within only a few years.

“Don’t worry, Chris, I feel the same. My life without my girlfriend? God, send some help,” Susan laughed with him, and Chris smiled thankfully. “So, I suppose you will head straight back home after the screening?” And the Evans was more than relieved to nod this question yes. “Totally. I love everyone involved in this movie, and I’m beyond grateful. However, my priorities are heading home, being greeted by Dodge and maybe the kids if they’re still awake, thanking Leo for keeping an eye on these two—more like three, Dodger included—troublemakers and his daughter, and then finally greeting my wife. We probably will watch a Disney movie, eventually waking the kids with the sounds, and everything will morph into a huge Disney sleepover on the couch. And yes, that’s the description of my personal favorite night.” He had always been a more at-home type of guy after passing a certain age, but now, it was all he could ever want.

“That sounds like a night in just like mine, minus the children. Thank you again for talking to me, Chris, and congratulations on the brilliant movie and your family. I’m definitely not the only one when I’m saying that you deserve every single bit of it,” Susan closed the interview, and Chris waved a last time to the people standing behind her before heading back to the red carpet to get the final shots for the press.

;

Chris was glad that they had settled back to L.A. for the making of Lightyear to avoid stressful last-minute flights from one side of the country to the other. He could be there if something happened at home, almost within a matter of thirty minutes tops, and Leo wasn’t busy as he usually was to help him with keeping an eye on everyone. And now, he was glad because it meant he could hold his wife in his arms after only a twenty-minute drive instead of an almost six-hour flight. He could even grab her favorite ice cream flavor on the way home.

Leaving the car and wishing Daniel, his driver for today, a good night, Chris slowly followed the pathway, flanked with blooming bushes and flowers exploding in every color there was, up to the four steps leading to the porch and door. Their L.A. house reminded him of home back in Boston, and he couldn’t wait for them to move back and relish in the family time they would have after baby number three was born.

Smiling at the sounds of an excited Dodger waiting for him, Chris took two steps at a time and opened the door to get in. His fur companion wiggled with his tail at the sight of his human, and the Evans crouched down to greet him with a loving scratch behind his ears. “How is my best boy?” He asked and chuckled as Dodger impatiently nudged his hand to follow him. He wanted to, but tiny, excited voices let him stop in his tracks.

“Daddy! Daddy!”

“Daddy’s home!”

Two tiny humans rounded the corner into the hallway at full speed, and the father could only let the bag with ice cream and snacks drop to the floor before he was attacked by the hugs of his five-year-old girl and an almost four-year-old boy. “What a greeting!” He laughed as he lifted both children in his arms and tickled squealing noises out of them. Ophelia grinned brightly—the grin almost too big for her pretty little face— while Aiden preferred to snuggle onto his father’s shoulder. It was late for him, and Chris was actually surprised at how long he had pushed through.

“Did you bring the biiiig Buzz? I saw him on TV! I want him! He is so cool and sooo big! And Sox??? They had a statue of him too! Did you see it, Daddy?? Can we go there tomorrow?? Please??”

Chris chuckled at the tsunami of questions he already had anticipated, but another voice slid into the conversation. “Lia, darling. Give your dad some time to arrive and at least to take off his shoes,” Leo quipped with a small grin on his face and stepped to his son-in-law to take the kids off him. “But, Poooops!” Ophelia pouted heavily, and even Aiden seemed not happy about the interruption of stories. “No but’s, darling. Come on; you said you wanted to bake a cake for your dad and the work is only halfway done. Plus, your mom said something about craving a banana smoothie. Who wants a banana smoothie?”

And suddenly, the world was back in order, and both kids screamed “Yes!” throughout the entire house.

Chris followed them after taking off his shoes and retrieving the paper bag again. He took one spoon from the kitchen on his way to the living room and already saw the head of his wife peeking up between thick couch pillows. The husband left the bag with snacks at the opening of the kitchen, only taking the ice cream bucket with him. He crouched behind the back of the couch and let his arm appear from behind in front of the woman he loved—ice cream presented like an offering to the gods.

“M’lady, I brought gifts,” Chris laughed softly at her gasp and grabby hands, kissing her cheek tenderly. “Fine sir, do you possess the ability of mind reading? We should consider burning you at the stake.” YN had turned her head and grinned up to him as he rounded the couch and plopped down next to her. She was dressed in one of his Red Sox shirts—usually, it would be way too big for her, but now with the ever-growing baby bump, it fitted perfectly—, yoga pants and fluffy socks under which she probably hid the pestering compression socks the doctor had prescribed for the next weeks. “Please, I beg you, don’t burn me! Who would tend to your needs, m’lady?” YN’s eyes wandered to Dodger, who had taken over his place at her side once more. Ever the protective fur baby, Chris thought with a smile. “I could train Dodge to go to the store. Remember this video with the dog and his little basket on the market? Where he bought fruits for his owner? It could be Dodger after a bit of persuasion.” The woman grinned brightly, the same grin Ophelia owned, and with one hand on his neck, she pulled his face closer to hers. Chris obliged and leaned down to press their lips together in a loving kiss, which still let butterflies erupt in his stomach.

“Hey,” Chris whispered, lips still touching, and YN sighed. “Hey,” she returned just as quiet as he and nudged his nose with hers. “Everything alright?” She could see the worry in his blue eyes, darkening them a bit, so she took his hand and put it on the right side of her still-growing bump, even though she was almost through with it. But each pregnancy held its own surprises, as she had experienced. “Of course,” she smiled at his joyful, boyish grin as he felt one of the many kicks of their third bundle of joy. Number three may be an accident because, after Aiden’s birth, they had agreed on waiting a couple more years to grant them the attention they both deserved, but everything would be okay. And she couldn’t imagine a life without bub three.

Chris bent his head down to the spot where he suspected his baby’s head and pressed a kiss on top of his… YN’s shirt. “Hey, love. Here is your daddy speaking. I hope you didn’t give your mom a hard time today, and I damn sure hope you will continue to be a good girl in a few hours when she tries to sleep—unlike the last three nights. ‘Thought we had a deal.” YN chuckled while her fingers carded through Chris’ fluffy hair but groaned at a particularly hard kick. “Love,” they both warned in unison before YN settled back into the cushions and continued to caress her husband’s hair and scalp. “A girl, huh?” She softly smiled at the man who had swept her off her feet so suddenly, she still wondered how she didn’t brake her neck in the wake of his adorable flirting endeavors she oh so happily had returned. Chris leaned his cheek against her bump, wanting to be as close as possible to his baby and wife, and her knuckles tenderly stroked over his bearded cheek. He had a boyish smile tucking at his lips. “S’just a feelin’,” he mumbled, Boston accent very prominent—just as always when he felt contentment and happiness, mostly when he was at home with his family. YN grinned down at him while slowly rubbing the spot where the tiny bub had kicked again. “You can admit that you want another girl. Nobody would be surprised, y’know? The whole internet sees you as a girl-dad,” YN winked, and Chris’ rumbling laugh almost shook her body as well. “Do they, yeah?” She nodded and tipped the tip of his nose with the pad of her finger. “Yes, they do, and we both know that you know this as well. Don’t try to fool lil’ ol’ me, Mr. Evans. I’m aware of your stalking tendencies when it comes to your fans and this family.”

Chris grinned sheepishly before sitting up and pressing another kiss to her lips. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Mrs. Evans,” he whispered before commotion erupted in the kitchen and tiny feet came rushing over. “Mommy! Mommy, look! I made banana shake!” Aiden proudly presented the filled glass, and both parents were sure there would be a dripping trail of shake from the kitchen to the couch. But her father already followed with a kitchen towel in hand. “We made the banana shake,” Ophelia stressed and gave her mom the reusable straw she had carried while Aiden gave her the glass. The mother almost teared up and blinked rapidly to hide the tears. “You two are too good to me,” she sniffled before taking the first sip and hummed in utter approval. “Perfection. Maybe you should think about opening a shake shop.” Ophelia giggled while Aiden squeezed himself between Dodger and his mother. With another human, Dodger wouldn’t have any of that, but with his family, he only made space and put his head in his tiny human’s lap to get the cuddles he loved.

Meanwhile, Ophelia climbed into the spot between her mom and dad and cuddled into Chris’ side, grabbing the ice cream out of her mother’s hands and starting to steal a few spoons full of sugary delight. He had thought about getting up to change into something more comfortable, but he decided that this was much better. He could outlive a few hours without his sweatpants. Leo returned after bringing the kitchen towel into the laundry room and bent down to press a kiss to the top of his youngest daughter’s head. “I would head over if you don’t need anything else, darling,” he said, and YN looked up to him with all the love she held for this man. “Of course. Thanks again for coming over and handling everything.” She really had lucked out in the family department, even before finding Chris and creating her own perfect family with the perfect man that was her husband. The DiCaprio smiled down at her and kissed her forehead. “That’s nothing to thank me for.” And with that, he kissed his grandkids goodbye before patting his son-in-law’s shoulder. “There is a cake in the oven, but the timer is set.” Chris nodded, and after peeling a grumpy Ophelia off his side, he stood up and brought Leo to the door.

There, the older man turned again. “Before I go… I wanted to thank you, Chris, for making her so happy. You know what happened to her mother, and though it was a long time ago, it had always cast a shadow over her.” Chris knew what Leo was referring to; YN had told him about the traumatic labor her mother went through, only that she died and the baby with her. It had taken its toll on Leo, too, and the whole family had needed years to recover from it. It still amazed Chris how she had handled every pregnancy and every birth, although she knew what could go wrong. “But with you, she finally is… I can’t even describe it. Not to mention that you took her fear. So… Thank you.” Both men hugged each other closely, patted their backs reaffirmingly. “It’s an honor to love her and have her in my life because you raised one of the best women on earth. You deserve every thank I could offer you,” Chris mumbled before they let go of one another. Leonardo waved it off, but in reality, it was the proudest achievement in his life. YN and her sister were his pride and joy, just as Ophelia, Aiden, and the little one were Chris’ pride and joy. “Have a good night, Chris, and give me a call if it’s happening, yeah?” Chris nodded without hesitation. “Yeah, of course.“

Returning into the living room in his favorite sweatpants and Red Sox shirt—one of the few he actually was allowed to wear and which wasn’t claimed by his darling wife—Chris sat back next to Ophelia and out his arm on the back of the couch to softly caress YN’s neck and shoulder. “The kids decided that we’re watching Wall-E,” she let him know while his eldest already held onto the remote and scrolled through Disney+. “Daddy?” He hummed in question at Aiden’s voice. “Lia and I want see biiiiig Sox,” he told the family, and YN softly shrugged at Chris’ questioning look in her direction. “If they’re still there, why not? You two have to take a lot of pictures for me, ‘kay?” Aiden nodded with a serious expression. “Otay!” YN carded through her son’s mop of blonde hair—Chris’ genes definitely outrun hers—and changed another look with her husband, both obviously thinking the same. “You know, after your brother or sister is born, maybe we could check out Disney World and if they already have a Buzz and Sox there.” Both parents knew what mentioning Disney World would do to their kids, but they didn’t mind the explosion of tiny voices. Instead, Chris settled back right next to his wife, hand again on her bump, while they watched their children playing in the living room—Dodger was Sox, Ophelia played Izzy, and Aiden was Buzz himself.”

YN laughed softly and leaned her head onto Chris’ shoulder. “We really have a Disney obsessed family.” Chris grinned in total contentment and kissed her head. “We have, and I don’t want it any other way.”

;

I don’t know where all these words came from, but I kinda couldn’t stop writing. Even though it’s kinda shitty, I hope y’all enjoyed it! As usual: Comments, reblogs, and likes are much appreciated <3

#chris evans x reader #chris evans x wife!reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #chris evans imagine #chris evans fluff #chris evans one shot #chris evans oneshot #chris evans blurb #dad!chris evans #dad chris evans #husband!chris evans #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans imagines

[maarriiii]

Simp (Part 2) | Wilbur Soot

A/N: Oh wow, thank you so much for all the love for the first chapter!!! It means a lot. Also, i have another fic called Happy (Sad) New Year if you’re interested in seeing. And another thing is that I might update this series weekly.

Summary: You might have a crush on Tommy’s cute tall friend with the glasses.

Pairing(s): CC!Wilbur Soot x gender neutral!reader, CC!Wilbur Soot x actor!reader.

Warning(s): None.

italics: streams

my masterlist :))

~~

After your Twitter interaction with TommyInnit, The same thing happened again, funnily enough, was with a friend of Tommy’s and fellow streamer. You recognized him from the first vlog you’ve watched of Tommy’s, the cute tall one with the glasses. Wilbur Soot was his name or at least that was what people called him. Again, your fans tagged you in various posts, moments caught from his stream. In one of those clips, he jokingly banged his fist on his desk.

“That was suppose to be me, chat! I like them first! It’s not fair. Tommy keeps rubbing it on my face.”

There was another one where he talked about when he first liked you.

“I found this soundtrack, right, chat. And it was from this movie. I searched it up, watched it and just immediately it became one of my favourite films. They played one of the characters in it and I found out they wrote a song from the soundtrack that coincidentally is my favourite.”

The thing that got you though was when he complimented your singing and writing in the song that you wrote. You remembered being scared shitless for that particular role for two reasons. One, you never sang in front of that many people before and it made you nervous. Two, although you loved writing songs—you have a journal filled with unfinished songs—you didn’t think you had the ability to write one that was vital to your character’s arc.

“They have a very good voice in my opinion, no, a great voice actually. And that specific song was quite relatable for me—I’m pouring my heart out here, chat, and here you are calling me a simp. Fine, go ahead, call me a simp. I don’t care. Maybe I am a simp. What about it, chat?”

You thought it was really sweet how he thinks of you and you couldn’t help the slight fluttering in your heart and the butterflies in your stomach when his fans tell him that he has a crush. Also his cute smile didn’t help at all with the sensation growing inside you. Honestly, you could just watch a video of him smiling over and over again.

For days, you keep thinking about him which was frustrating and exciting in some way. You felt like a teenager again, crushing on a boy that smiled at you in passing. You haven’t told anyone about it, knowing that everyone was going to tease you if they knew and would try to convince you to reach out to him. You wanted to, badly even, but life in the spotlight has its ups and downs. You don’t want the paparazzi to be crowding and violating this man’s private life just for the sole reason of trying to find out who you might be dating next.

You were scrolling down YouTube again, filling the time as you sat down in the hair and makeup trailer, when you came across a band. From experience, artists you found on YouTube most of the time was your cup of tea so you clicked on the video titled ‘Taunt’ by Lovejoy. The already enjoyable song got more enjoyable when you saw the familiar face that had been invading your mind. You eyes grew wide, your head no longer bopping, and finally that feeling in your heart returned.

“Don’t smile too much. I’m doing your powder.” One of the makeup artist spoke, moving a brush across your cheeks.

“Oh shit, sorry Sloane.” Yet, you smiled again as the video plays out.

Sloane smirked, looking at your phone screen. “Know one of ‘em? Is that why you’re smiling all of the sudden?”

“I know that tone.” You glared at the older woman beside you. “And yes, I do know one of them if you must know.”

“Which one?”

“The one with the glasses and the hat. The tall one.”

Sloane leaned closer. “He’s cute.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, I can see why you’re into him.”

“I did not say that I like him.”

“You didn’t have to.” Sloane pointed the brush she was holding at your face. “Your smile already did.”

~~

When you realized Wilbur Soot have a band, the obvious choice was to go on a rabbit hole of listening to their entire discography. It took a few listens but their songs grew on you and eventually made their way into your various playlists—some grew annoyed listening to you repeating their songs. Now that you found a perfect opportunity to try and talk to Wilbur, the only thing that’s left was the execution. You didn’t want to make it too obvious that you’re trying to reach this guy. You could only imagine the article they would write about and you didn’t need to be ask about “a mystery guy” when doing press junkets later on.

“What are you scared of? You’re just posting about this band that you like. You’ve done it a million times.” You said, trying to calm yourself.

With one last inhale and exhale, you began typing. Your heart beating vigorously with each letter that you pressed. It was incredibly ridiculous how nervous you were. You kind of wished someone was there to give you some emotional support but alas you were alone in your trailer.

“Okay, that’s good enough, I think. Not too long, not too short. All that’s left to do is post it.”

Your thumb hovered over the button, still contemplating whether or not this was the right choice. Maybe you should’ve chosen the lowkey route. Just slide into his DM’s like many of your friends did. What if he doesn’t see it? What if he doesn’t interact with it the way his friend Tommy did? What if he turns out to be an absolute dick? The possibilities were endless.

When the waiting and the doing absolutely nothing began eating you out, you decided it’s now or never.

“Fuck it.” You closed your eyes, pressed the button and the deed was done.

#simp #wilbur soot #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur x you #wilbur mcyt #mcyt x reader #cc!wilbur

[apompkwrites]

hello I just finished Kingscholar's design and I got thinking about their possible ages + more about Shoenheit because I think my lack of focus on them is insulting to them so it's gonna be two in one

also, I've started calling Shoenheit Little Angel Idk why I think it has something to do with another anon but I don't know I've forgotten and I've started calling Clover Little Luck because lucky clover because 4-leaf clover yeah.

first, here are the ages I think would make sense,

Lil Rose: 15 Lil Luck: 16 Lil Lion: 15 Lil Hyena: 15 Lil Splatoon 2 Octo expansion: 15 Lil Eel: 15 Lil Scarab: 15 Lil Viper: 15 Lil Angel: 15 Lil Hunt: 15 Lil Flame: 17 (no younger than 16 but no older than 18, since Ortho says that he was 5 years old eleven years ago making him 16 and Idia is canonically 18 years old) Lil Dragon:???? Lil Bat:???????????????? (only Draconia and Lilia know for sure but they aren't willing to tell it and if you ask Vanrouge themself that question they'll most likely just say "older than you are" or just "it's rude to ask that, you know")

most of these are just because I assume that most of the Blacksheep are freshmen and most all of the freshmen in the game are 15 and those that are older than that are in another grade

ok onto Shoenheit I am using this as a reference

Vil has mentioned that his father is an actor who was very doting and while they haven't mentioned his mother (if he has one).

I imagine that the pressure wasn't put onto Shoenheit by their family but by the expectations of the public, I mean their father is a famous actor, and their brother is a famous actor and model. I imagine that both their father and brother doted on them when they were younger and still do now that they're older, but being born into this family means expectations from birth.

If their father was doting then I don't think that he would've forced his children into the acting industry however when Vil got into it the public it was expected the youngest one to eventually get into it and they felt almost required to when they reached an old enough age and then they did get into the industry and then all eyes were on them constantly but it was too late to go back.

Vil and (Name) got cast together in movies when they were younger to play siblings often at the start and I imagine that (Name) had a lot of fun in the beginning but then it just stopped being enjoyable over time and the news started criticizing them for not being as good as their brother and for not being perfect enough which doesn't help with self-esteem much and they started pushing themself to be perfect.

Vil and (Name) still are close, maybe not as close as they were as children but that just happens naturally as they're growing up, I feel like Vil knows that his sibling is a perfectionist but doesn't realize just how bad it is and how low their self-esteem is. If he knew I feel like he would do as much as he could to make them feel better about themself and even try to get them out of the spotlight, but because he doesn't realize he accidentally ends up making it worse and adding additional pressure of being perfect onto them.

(Name) knows Vil cares for them and just expresses it differently but sometimes they feel like it's just an act that Vil is just keeping up for public appearances and they feel embarrassed to ask for that reassurance from Vil that he does care.

I feel like (Name) also feels pressure to hate Neige as much as Vil does, they think it's irrational and kind of childish though they would probably never say that out loud. They feel like Neige could actually be their friend however they have to think of their brother whenever they interact with him.

I feel like both Little Hunt and Rook noticed the low self-esteem and I feel like while Little Hunt leaves Rook to compliment them since that's his thing, they try to focus on helping them to accept that they don't need to be perfect and it's okay to make mistakes, it's okay that they got a B and to ignore what people are saying about them, although it doesn't seem to work much pre-overblot as they're too critical of themself at the moment to listen and frankly they don't say this often but the Little Hunter is seriously concerned that it might devolve into something more serious.

Imagine Shoenheit has a habit of pushing people they're close to away because of an incident where they were criticized for having a not-good-enough friend and that friend ended up being bashed by tabloids leading to that friend wanting nothing to do with Shoenheit making them afraid of getting to close to people. Though it seems like Kingscholar pushes that idea a lot because they genuinely could care less what people say about them at this point, they literally ran away and people are sympathizing with the fucking elders they are way past caring (so they say).

I love the contrast between the ever-perfectionist Shoenheit and the Kingscholar that just gave up on caring what people thought of them and Kingscholar teaching them to loosen up a bit.

mhmmhm! most of the black sheep are pretty much around first year ages so about 15 :)

now onto schoenheit!(name).

the pressure is definitely a result of public pressure, something that a lot of child actors and celebrities face in real life! schoenheit!(name)'s fic is in the works rn but i do have it where there is a lot of pressure on them from the public but also a bit from vil, just because he seems to show his care in a way that can be easily misconstrued.

i do think they would have a lot of issues making friends because of the fame and attention their life brings. it's that sort of fear of also being friends with someone only to learn they were being used to get that same fame and attention. they just want someone who will appreciate them for them, not the schoenheit name.

and as always i love seeing the kingscholar and schoenheit ship make its return :D

#a pompk answers #black sheep

[callmebrycelee]

AMERICAN HORROR STORY REACTION

This reaction is for season 11, first episode titled "Something's Coming" which originally aired on October 19, 2022. "Something's Coming" was written by Ryan Murphy and Brad Falchuk and directed by John J. Gray. Spoilers ahead!

Finally! The moment we've been waiting for all year is here! The latest season of American Horror Story debuted last week. This new season of AHS called "NYC" features a mix of old and new. We have AHS alums Billie Lourd, Denis O'Hare, Leslie Grossman, Patti LuPone, Sandra Bernhard, and Zachary Quinto joining some newcomers to the series - broadway actors Joe Mantello (Angels in America) and Isaac Powell (West Side Story) and television actors Russell Tovey (Being Human, Looking) and Charlie Carver (Desperate Housewives, The Leftovers, The Boys in the Band). We also have a new setting - New York City. 

Having watched the first two episodes, I have some thoughts as well as some theories about where this season is going. So, let's talk about it!

SOMETHING'S COMING ...

It's very rare I start a new season of American Horror Story not knowing the premise. I think not knowing what to expect is one of the main reasons as to why I thoroughly enjoyed both episodes. Speaking of episodes, let's begin with episode one, "Something's Coming". Without any fanfare, we're dropped right into early-80's New York City - 1981 to be exact. We see a pilot named Captain Ross (Lee Aaron Rosen) and a few flight attendants exit a cab and enter a hotel. While walking to his hotel room, Captain Ross is confronted by one of his coworkers, Tawny (Kelsey Lea Jones), and she comes on to him like gangbusters. Captain Ross flashes his wedding band and tells her thanks but no thanks and proceeds on to his hotel room where he proceeds to shower and dress in his finest leather gear. 

Captain Ross makes his way to a sketchy part of town and goes into a seemingly abandoned warehouse where men in various states of undress are hooking up in darkened passages. The last time we see the captain alive on screen is when we see him being watched by a muscular, masked man dressed in head to toe leather. The next thing we see is a headless body by the river. The NYPD, including a cop by the name of Patrick Read (Russell Tovey), are on the scene investigating. And if I didn't already know we were back in the 1980's, then it was made abundantly clear the moment one of the cops made a derogatory joke about the victim who is presumed gay. It's a harsh reminder that even though this scene is taking place over 40 years ago, homophobia is still an issue in 2022. 

To make matters even more bleak, we head over to Fire Island where a scientist and doctor by the name of Hannah Wells (Billie Lourd) is investigating a new virus that is threatening to wipe out the deer population on the island. Hannah suggests killing off the remaining deer before the virus has a chance to jump to humans. With this being 1981, I have a sneaking suspicion what this new virus could be.  

We learn that Patrick is gay and is living with his older partner, Gino Barelli (Joe Mantello). The two appear to be polar opposites. Patrick used to be married and is now living as a gay man, though he is closeted at work for obvious reasons. Gino is an openly gay and works as a journalist for a newspaper called 'The Native' which reports on issues concerning the gay community. They both have different approaches when it comes to the string of murders involving local gay men. While Patrick is content to quietly investigate, Gino wants to use the newspaper to shine a huge spotlight on the issue. There's obviously some tension between these two but they do seem to genuinely care about each other. 

We then meet Adam Carpenter (Charlie Carver), a young gay man currently in the middle of a breakup. His friend and roommate, Sully (Jared Reinfeldt) attempts to cheer him up by taking him to a cruising spot in the park. What I like most about Adam is his innocence which is a striking contrast to many of the characters we are introduced to in this episode. He's a romantic at heart and isn't really interested in anonymous hookups.

Adam is left alone after Sully goes off to hookup with a total stranger and that is when he sees the same muscular, masked man in the leather get-up we saw earlier in the episode. He runs away calling after Sully. Sully goes after him and is confronted by the mysterious, possibly murderous leather daddy. We hear him scream and that is the last we ever see of Sully.

Adam reports Sully's disappearance to Patrick at the police department. Adam thinks that Patrick doesn't want to help him but Patrick assures him that he does care about the situation and he does want to help but he can't and it's not because Sully is gay, it's because he hasn't been missing for more than 48 hours. He tells Adam to come back if Sully hasn't turned up in a couple of days and Adam leaves the station. 

Patrick then goes to talk to the captain, Mac Marzara (Kal Penn) about Sully and all of the recent murders but gets nowhere. I do find it interesting that we have a POC character in a position of power who could honestly give a shit that a bunch of homosexuals are being murdered. I imagine it couldn't have been easy for him to get to the position he is currently in, yet he seems intent on shitting on an entire community instead of trying to do right by them. P.S. - I love Kal Penn as an actor and as a person but the character he is playing in American Horror Story: NYC is a garbage human and I hope we get to see his comeuppance by the end of the season.

We then head over to Neptune Baths Health Club where the resident chanteuse Kathy Pizzaz (Patti LuPone) is performing "Fever" by Peggy Lee. Adam arrives and takes a seat at the bar. He notices a black and white photo of the same leather man ran into at the park and asks the bartender if he knows who the guy is. The bartender says he doesn't know who the man is but he knows who took the photograph. He points out Theo Graves (Isaac Powell) who appears to be pretty popular amongst the clientele.  

At the other end of the bar, Gino overhears the conversation with Adam and the bartender. He beckons him over and introduces himself. Gino tells Adam that the police won't help him but he will. He gives Adam his contact information. Adam goes to Theo's studio the following day and learns the identity of the masked man he saw in the park as well as in the photograph he saw in the bathhouse. Adam tells Theo that he thinks the same guy is hurting people and gives him his number to call if he finds out any more information on him. Theo rushes Adam out of the studio just in time for Sam (Zachary Quinto) to arrive. 

Sam is Theo's manager and boyfriend and it only took one line (no pun intended) for me to know this guy is bad news. Sam is every besuited businessman snorting coke off the coffee table we've ever encountered in an 80's movie and he and Theo have a really effed up romance. Sam accuses Theo of using him for his money and is trying to pressure him into going the porn route while Theo is content with the type of photography he is currently doing. Theo also senses that something dark is coming, which is where we first hear the title of the episode, but Sam seems unconcerned. Meanwhile, Patrick asks Gino about the significance of a blue handkerchief (a blue handkerchief was stuffed in the mouth of the severed head found earlier in the episode) and Gino tells him about the hanky code, a way for gay men to communicate their sexual interests. Patrick then tells Gino he is not authorized to investigate the recent murders and that he has to be careful about leaking information. He asks Gino to go to The Brownstone Bar on his behalf to gather information.

Patrick meets with his soon-to-be ex-wife named Barbara (Leslie Grossman) and presents her with divorce papers. The two of them have a pretty decent relationship considering the circumstances behind their relationship coming to an end. I also get the sense that Barbara is being as suportive as she can regarding Patrick being gay. She asks him why he married her and his answer seems genuine. Patrick, like so many gay men of his ilk, wanted to have the wife and family but ultimately he couldn't make it work. He tells her that he still loves her. It's a bittersweet scene but ultimately both of them seem better off apart than together. 

Gino heads over to the bar and chats with a regular named Henry (Denis O'Hare). Henry refuses to go on the record for Gino but he does give him a valuable piece of information: all of the serial killer's victims drink Mai Tais. When Gino goes to leave, he realizes he's been drugged. As he stumbles out of the bar, he is ushered into a car by a strange man. 

Sam is also at the Brownstone Bar and he's talking with an up and coming actor named Freddy (John Bubniak), arranging for him to be photographed by Theo as a means of garnering him exposure. Freddy arrives at Theo's studio and what starts as a homoerotic photoshoot turns into something a bit more scandalous when Sam flips over a wooden stool and asks him to sit on it. Freddy does follow through and Sam is pleased with the photos. When Freddy leaves, Theo asks Sam about Big Daddy. Sam gets upset and tells Theo that Big Daddy is dead. It should be noted that Big Daddy was standing outside of Theo's studio and that Sam seemingly acknowledges his presence. 

Adam meets up with Theo at the bathhouse and tells him about Big Daddy. Adam is perplexed because the person he saw in the photo is the same person he saw at the park the night Sully disappeared. Theo lives to go hook up and Adam is propositioned by Freddy. Adam declines his offer for sex and Freddy heads off to the steam room where he runs into Big Daddy. We end the episode the way we started with a very bleak scene and a sign of things to come. We find ourselves back on Fire Island with Dr. Hannah Wells as she watches a group of infected deer get slaughtered by the police. It's a harsh reminder of the storm that's about to come in the form of the AIDS epidemic. 

I'm gonna pause my reaction here and do my reaction to episode two in another post. This first episode feels very different from previous first episodes of American Horror Story. The characters, whether you loved them or hated them, felt really grounded. I really like Gino and a lot of that is due to Joe Mantello's acting. I also like Adam who reminds me a lot of myself in my earlier years. It's fun to see Leslie Grossman play someone so understated this season and I wonder how Barbara will be used in future episodes. The only character I dislike and it has nothing to do with the actor is Sam. Sam is a sleeze ball and I wonder what dark secrets he's hiding. The only character I'm truly on the fence about is Patrick. Patrick is giving me John Lowe (Wes Bentley) in "Hotel" vibes. I get the feeling he's a troubled individual but is he a bad guy? Cops, historically, on this show have turned out to be bad guys.

As for the episode itself - it felt surprisingly restrained in a way I'm not really used to with American Horror Story. As an avid fan of the show, I can also be one of its biggest critics. I've been a fan of Ryan Murphy since Popular and I have no problem admitting that while he swings big when it comes to film and television, he has just as many misses as hits. The same can be said about this show. Many would argue the show has lost the magic of the original seasons, but I think this episode is a promise of that magic returning. We're off to a great start. I just hope the writers can stick the landing at the end. 

I will post my reaction to episode two tomorrow. Until next time ...

#blw reactions #tv reaction #american horror story reaction #ahs nyc #big daddy #american horror story #american horror story nyc #patrick read #gino barelli #hannah wells #billie lourd #joe mantello #russell tovey #adam carpenter #charlie carver #barbara read #leslie grossman #theo graves #issac powell #zachary quinto

[one-vivid-judgment]

What're your favorite dramas? What would you recommend to watch?

Ooooh, big question! 

I haven't watched that many dramas compared to other people, but I'd say I know my way around the block. Most of them have been Thai BLs + 2 straight dramas (one of which was a K-Drama, actually) + a GL I'm currently watching aka 23.5

For more lighthearted, wholesome vibes, My School President is the one I'll ALWAYS recommend. It's my favorite, and I think it's perfect to introduce yourself to the world of Thai BL! The music is absolutely great, it's mostly a comedy but there are some touching moments too, and although there IS romance and that's a very important point, I'd say it's more about the main friend group's journey. Their friendship is still the most realistic one I've ever seen in a drama. 

For something more on the spicy™ side of things, Love in the Air is solid. Just... some of the themes are VERY delicate (I'm specifically talking about one of the characters having VERY SEVERE trauma from being in an incredibly abusive relationship + being raped by his boyfriend's friends). 

For something more dramatic, The Eclipse and Moonlight Chicken are very good! They touch on very serious topics, like homophobia, suicide, loss and the mental health struggles that come with it, the treatment of disabled people (in Moonlight Chicken, one of the boys from the secondary couple is deaf, and even though the actor says almost nothing the whole series, he's absolutely PHENOMENAL at making you feel things), growing up in a poor family. The Eclipse in particular made me cry HARD. They DO have happy endings though! I was also watching A Tale of Thousand Stars, which was pretty on theme for this category, but put it on hold and I haven't finished it yet. 

For something more fantasy-like, I've watched Vice Versa and Hotel del Luna. I didn't really like the latter though; even though it started out great and IU is GREAT at her role, it started to drag hard past the midway point and you could tell some scenes were made longer and filmed from EVERY angle just to fill in an hour and a half of episode runtime. I watched the last three episodes on double the speed just to get it over with. 

Vice Versa is pretty good though! I thought the body switching thing would get confusing, but it was surprisingly easy to follow! And, again, there is a big focus on friendship that I always appreciate along with the romance. 

I didn't know where to include this, but I gotta say: Mama Gogo is MAD underrated. 

It's about a former 2000s pop star who left the spotlight after she got pregnant, and now in her 40s, she's kicked her husband out of the house, her daughter hates her, she's to her neck in debt and her job doesn't even remotely pay the bills, not to mention she's constantly being harrassed by debt collectors. Meanwhile, her former bandmate is rich, successful and has her own makeup brand. Things happen and she ends up becoming the manager of male strip club. I know how it may sound (though yes, there IS a lot of fanservice and the actors appear almost naked onscreen A LOT) BUT I SWEAR THAT'S NOT WHY I LIKE IT 😭😭 There are a lot of legitimately funny moments, and when you think everything's gonna be like that BAM, they hit you with the drama: one of the guys is a single dad and when his ex-wife finds out he works as a stripper she tries to get custody of the daughter, another one gets in a VERY weird relationship with an older woman, another has a legit criminal record. I thought the characters were gonna be flat as hell, but BOY, WAS I WRONG. Also, the music is great too. 

So, yeah, I'd say that about covers it! Oh, and if you like GLs, please do watch 23.5! It just started yesterday but it's already the loser lesbian representation I've always craved 😭

#.txt #anon ask #thai drama

[badedramay]

is there an explanation for why mehwish and humayun have never really gotten a Good story opposite each other. like did they make the transition into lollywood too quickly so now we’re doomed to never see anything really narratively substantive from them. am rewatching dil lagi and it has some flaws as do most dramas that are more than a few years old but it makes me sad bc it feels like their only work opposite each other that actually had something interesting to say. i wish they’d do another drama again i can’t stomach another krq movie 😭

Narratively substantial ab kuch banta hi kahan hai? 🤡

I guess for both Humayun and Mehwish dramas as a medium can no longer "contain" the stature they have built for themselves? Humayun exclusively works with KRQ for the primary reasons that the Humayun-KRQ-Nadeem team are guaranteed hit maker so Humayun can continue having a crazy success streak and also KRQ has mastered how to write the vulnerable macho man who's the biggest victim without compromising on his mardaangi; a kind of character that Humayun knows how to embody very well now in his age. Humayun doesn't need to experiment when he's with KRQ - the writing carries more than half the weight of the project and all he has to do is earnestly act it out; something he knows very well do to.

Mehwish, unfortunately, doesn't seem to have the same kind of dedicated team behind her to provide her the same home level comfort and relaxation of being in a hit project on TV. there's just so many teams and camps on TV now that I guess for older actors it's hard to make new connections with old players. you know how fragile the ego of these starry people are? kya hi pata kab kisi ko kaise annoy kiya ho ke phir kabhi baat hi nahin ki.

Individually, Mehwish and Humayun both used to do good TV back when they there was flourishing content on TV. then TV became too small for them and they ruled the big screen for a while. now switching back to the smaller screen in smaller roles might not be comfortable for them considering how BOTH of them have been part of reputable international projects. ab acha lagega ke Mehwish 7th Sky pe 100 episode dramas kare?? and the kinds of projects Humayun does for TV aren't the ones where Mehwish can fit in. she's too powerful of an actor and a personality to play the women KRQ now writes for TV. it's different in a 3 hour long movie, har haftay kon zaleel hona pasand karega? she's not like Ayeza who'd simply refuse to give an interview talking about her character.

it's sad though. Mehwish is a brilliant performer and she still has SO much to offer. but wohi same rona hai - there's no opportunity to showcase all that because TV in Pakistan in a very weird, divided space. a decade ago thoughtful dramas were the mainstream ones and now there's a clear divide between the "popular" dramas and "good" dramas. audience's reactions have evolved and I get why it could be scary for some actors who have experienced much popularity in the past to dip their toes into this now unknown territory. some of the best of our actors had their brightest days before their due time. and now the spotlight shines on others.

#humayun saeed #mehwish hayat #type: opinion

[elxctrics]

my friends say i should act my age. what's my age again? that's about the time that she broke up with me, no one should take themselves so seriously with many years a head to fall in line. why would you wish that on me? i never wanna act my age. what's my age again?"

(—) ★ spotted!! JESSE CARR on the cover of this week’s most recent tabloid! many say that the 30 year old looks like MACHINE GUN KELLY but i don’t really see it. while FORMER CHILDSTAR/SINGER is known for being ENERGETIC my inside sources say that they have a tendency to be CHAOTIC i swear, every time i think of them, i hear WHAT'S MY AGE AGAIN? by BLINK 182 {he/him / cismale}

  ˗ˏˋ ＊ ‣ 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬    :  

connections || musings || instagram || headcanons

𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓼

name: jesse joe carr

age: thirty

nicknames: jess, jj

date of birth: june 1st, 1993

astrological sign: gemini

place of birth: beverly hills, california

occupation: former childstar/singer/actor

voice claim: harry styles

label: the wild child

positive traits: energetic, charismatic, magnetic, witty

negative traits: chaotic, immature, messy, irresponsible

characters/celebrities he’s like: harry styles, macaulay culkin, cook from skins, chris keller from one tree hill, peter pan, jenko in 21 jump street,

𝓫𝓲𝓸𝓰𝓻𝓪𝓹𝓱𝔂

there was no way to avoid the spotlight with the parents he had.

born as a son to rita carr, famous film actress, and reggie carr, hollywood film producer, jesse was born to be a star, and his parents made sure of it.

at just five years old, jesse starred in his first movie, and with his mother's acting skills clearly passed on to him, his parents knew they struck gold.

for years, he was type casted as the smart and witty young boy in a slew of movies - from home alone to my girl and a bunch of made for tv movies, disney channel shows and everything in between.

but when puberty hit, jesse wasn't the cute kid with the big blue eyes anymore.

his awkward phase hit him hard and not even mom and dad's influence could get him to land a starring role like he had gotten in his childhood.

so, homeschool was pushed aside and he began attending regular school...well, as regular as prep school in beverly hills could get.

at first, he experienced extreme bullying, people making fun of him for being the kid from home alone and a child star, so jesse knew that the best way to beat the popular kids, was to join them.

jesse began acting out - throwing wild project x style parties in his family's mansion while they were off filming projects and spending more time playing pranks and causing trouble than he ever did in class.

one day, his pranks went too far - pulling a fire alarm resulted all of the sprinklers to go off in the school, causing thousands and thousands of dollars worth of damage and the school looked at him as a liability and he was expelled when he was just 17 years old, a few months short of his high school graduation.

completely directionless, his parents scrambled to find something for him to get into when long time family friend simon cowell was over for dinner one night and said he was working on putting together a boy band and needed a name in the group that would jump start it's success.

with jesse's already messy reputation, he knew the public would be beyond curious and thus, made him the front man of the group.

he had never tried singing a day in his life - but anything in the performing world came easy to him and over night, jesse turned into an absolute heartthrob - touring the world as the front man to the band, living his absolute best life and wildest dreams that had fallen so easily into his lap.

it didn't take long for him to become notorious for his relationships with hollywood's most a-list celebrities - including older women and super models, and jesse never had any shame in his game or tried to hide it.

he also didn't care what the label told him to do. when they told him they wanted the band to keep a more clean cut, put together image, jesse disappeared for weeks and came back covered in tattoos...and the fans loved it. when they told him not to curse or make dirty jokes during shows...he did and the fans went crazy. it seemed that anything he touched turned to gold and after a while, the management stopped interfering and let him do his thing.

however, his bandmates soon got sick and tired of this and after a year of internal fights over jesse stealing the spotlight and making things all about him, the band broke up, which jesse truly didn't care about. because his management team already had a debut album ready to go already written for him to kick off his solo career.

six months after the band dismembered, he released his debut album 'jesse carr' and has released two albums - 'fine line' and 'jesse's house' since then.

to combat the negative reputation his band tried to create around him, his new image is one of 'treating people with kindness' and inclusivity, which his fans eat right up.

he has an excellent marketing team behind him that keeps the world thinking that he's become this wonderful guy when the truth is, he's anything but.

he's greedy, he's selfish, he's manipulative. and he truly doesn't care about anyone or anything - years of growing up in the spotlight and seeing how quickly people would turn on you when you weren't what they needed anymore did that to him.

riding the high of his grammy winning third album and touring the world in his flamboyant and avant guard glittery outfits, he was also recently cast in his very first film project since he was a kid, 'don't worry darling.'

#jesse #hillzintro

[rookie-critic]

Rookie-Critic's Film Review Weekend Wrap-Up - Week of 5/1-5/7/2023

Somewhere in Queens (2023, dir. Ray Romano) This was way better than it had any right to be. I'm not sure what I was expecting from a Ray Romano-directed picture, but for some reason it wasn't this. Just an unendingly sweet little slice-of-life film that analyzes the dynamics of a very messy, but loving family. Romano, who also stars in the film as the lead, plays Leonard, a man who's always late, generally says the wrong thing most of the time, and is just kind of awkward, but he loves his son Sticks (yes, that's a nickname), and he supports him with everything he's got, to a degree of fault, really. Romano isn't afraid to push his characters' faults into the spotlight, and he never tries to excuse them, but he also never loses sight of the fact their hearts are always in the right place. Laurie Metcalf also stuns as Leonard's wife Angela, a cancer survivor and a mother who's jealous of her son's secret girlfriend. The movie is basically a 1 hour and 46 minute, R-rated episode of Everybody Loves Raymond, but honestly I'm not complaining. The format difference allows Romano to explore his characters with a little more depth than a 22-24 minute TV episode would have allowed, and it breaths life into everyone on screen. I was super impressed with Somewhere in Queens, and I actually find myself looking forward to whatever Ray Romano decides to direct next, which is not a sentence I ever thought I'd hear myself say.

Score: 9/10

Currently only in theaters.

Police Story 3: Supercop (1992, dir. Stanley Tong) I have always been a fan of Jackie Chan, having grown up in his heyday in the States, but my fondness for the actor has never extended past his popular American films like the Rush Hour or Shanghai Noon/Knights series of films. I've always known about to slew of Hong Kong action comedies he starred in prior to breaking out over here, but I've just never made the time to watch them. So, I was more than happy to oblige when my older brother wanted to come over to my place and do a double-feature night with this and Drunken Master II (or Legend of the Drunken Master, depending on who you ask). This also doubles as one of Michelle Yeoh's earliest starring roles in a film, so I was doubly interested in watching this. Needless to say it is amazing. The story is decent enough, a police detective (Chan's Ka Kui Chan) is tasked with traveling to mainland China and pairing up with an Interpol agent (Yeoh's Chien Hua Yang) to take down a drug kingpin. Sounds pretty basic, and the nature of the story allows for a lot of Jackie Chan-style hijinks to ensue, but the real meat of what makes Supercop so incredible are the stunts. The things that Jackie Chan does in this movie make Tom Cruise look like a toddler playing in a sandbox. One stunt in particular was so unreal we thought there was no way he was doing it without a harness (turns out he absolutely was doing it without a harness). I won't spoil any of it for you (even though I'm the one who's late to the party here) because, if you haven't seen this, you must. It is one of the most incredible stunt spectacles I've ever seen put to film, and hands down the most impressed I've ever been with a Jackie Chan film, and that was already a pretty high bar.

Score: 9/10

Currently streaming on The Criterion Channel.

Drunken Master II (1994, dir. Lau Kar-leung) I've always heard that this is one of the, if not the, best Jackie Chan movies there is, and it's easy to see why that's the consensus. The hand-to-hand fighting choreography is, without question, the best I've ever seen. The final fight sequence (or series of fight sequences) alone, which takes up the last 20 minutes of the film's runtime, is an absolute wonder to behold. There were things I was seeing in this film that I didn't think was possible to do with the human body that put my jaw firmly on the ground. However, the film as a whole definitely has its weak moments and parts that drag, and a surprising amount of melodrama that I was probably being played for laughs, but it just wasn't landing with me. Which isn't to say that the film isn't funny, most of the physical comedy bits land, which isn't uncommon for a Jackie Chan vehicle, there were just a handful of moments that felt like they were trying too hard. Overall it's just a more uneven viewing experience than Supercop was, but its strengths more than make up for any of the film's detriments.

Score: 7/10

Currently available to rent/purchase on digital (iTunes, Amazon, Vudu, etc.) and on Blu-ray & DVD through Warner Bros.

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 (2023, dir. James Gunn) I won't belabor the point on this one too much as my full review was posted literally yesterday, but I was left deeply emotionally affected by this by the time the credits ran. I thought that almost everything about it just worked, barring an under-use of the Adam Warlock character, and the decision to make Rocket the focal point of this film's story was a stroke of genius on the part of writer/director James Gunn. Maybe I'm the lone wolf on how much I loved this because of my bias towards these characters, but I think Gunn knocked it straight out of the park and into the next galaxy with this. It's a wonderful film about finding the strength in your flaws and imperfections and the power of moving forward.

Score: 9/10

Only in theaters. You can read my full review of Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 here.

Carmen (2023, dir. Benjamin Millepied) By all accounts, this is not my kind of movie in the slightest. I've heard of the opera, but other than that I couldn't tell you one thing about the story before a few hours ago (I got home from the theater about 4 hours prior to writing this). The story is pretty basic and it definitely takes a "style over substance" approach to its visual storytelling, both things I tend to not be a fan of, but against all odds I have to say I did enjoy my time with Carmen. For one, I love both Melissa Barrera and Paul Mescal and they both kill it in their respective roles, even if I thought their romance moved way too fast to be truly believable. The dance numbers, while sometimes hard to follow the symbolism of, were wonderful. I was impressed with both Barrera's dance ability and voice, and Mescal, for what little dancing he does in the film, is better than you would think he would be. Where I think the film fails is in its message. It does seem like it touches on a lot of things that could have been really interesting (the central romance is between a white "all-American" veteran who clearly, regardless of his own beliefs, comes from a background of racism towards Hispanic people, and an undocumented immigrant), but it never really goes beneath the surface of any of its themes. There are also a handful of loose ploit threads that just kind of irked me. In a movie filled to the brim with extended interpretive dance numbers, they could have devoted at least a few seconds to throwaway line explaining some things and providing a little more context to Carmen's situation. It just seemed like there was a large section of the story that we just didn't get to see and, frankly, it felt like the filmmakers forgot about it, as well. Taking all of that into account, though, I still was drawn into the world of Carmen. I can't fully explain why I think that is, but something about it just grabbed me. I'm not sure I could tell you the greater purpose of everything Carmen throws at you in its 2 hour stay onscreen, but I can tell you that I was mesmerized by most of it, and that's gotta count for something.

Score: 7/10

Currently only in theaters.

#Weekend Wrap-Up #Somewhere in Queens #Police Story 3: Supercop #Police Story #Police Story 3 #Supercop #Drunken Master II #Legend of the Drunken Master #Drunken Master #Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 #Guardians of the Galaxy #Marvel #MCU #Carmen #Carmen 2023 #Ray Romano #Stanley Tong #Lau Kar-leung #James Gunn #Benjamin Millepied #Laurie Metcalf #Jackie Chan #Michelle Yeoh #Chris Pratt #Melissa Barrera #Paul Mescal #film review #movie review #2023 films #1992 films

[spideyobsessed]

The Best Against The World | T.H.

tom holland x actress!reader

Synopsis: In this sequel, what does fate hold for you and Tom after your breakup?

IMPORTANT: It gets a tad sexual at the end, my bad. Nothing actually happens but here’s a slight smut warning anyway.

This is the second part to my fic “Tired”

“Actress Y/n L/n has reportedly broken up with Actor Tom Holland”

“Why did Spidey and Silk call it quits? Read more to find out!”

“Heads up, ladies! Tom Holland is officially back on the market.”

“Check out these heartbreaking photos of our favorite couple saying their final goodbyes”

The headlines were endless.

It made you sick how these reporters acted like they were truly devastated over your breakup. They’re like vultures. And to make matters even worse, the paparazzi snapped some photos of Tom leaving your house with all of his things. TMZ knew about your breakup before you even got the chance to fully process it.

It’s been five months, and you miss it terribly. Not the fame, but the life you had with Tom. There’s been so many times where you accomplished a task and excitedly turned to tell him all about it, but he wasn’t there.

There’s been times where you nearly impulse bought a new toy for Tessa before realizing you don’t come home to her anymore.

At night, you mindlessly reach for the empty space in your once shared bed. The cold sheets always make you shudder as you retract your arm back to your side.

You aren’t afraid to admit that life without Tom is a lot more difficult than you expected it to be, but breaking up is not something that you regret.

Your mental health is the best it’s been in years. You finally have time to relax and visit family and friends and pick up new hobbies. Granted, you still get stopped by fans every now and then, but you never really minded them in the first place.

You’re confident in every decision you’ve made up to this point; it’s truly what you needed. You’re out of the spotlight and done with fame... almost.

. . .

Tom adjusts his collar in the mirror and fixes a few strands of hair before smiling in satisfaction, pleased with his appearance.

He walks out into his living room where his younger brother sits on the couch. Both men are dressed and ready to go.

“Mate, I really need to tell you something.” His brother Harry says urgently once Tom takes a seat next to him.

Tom rolls his eyes and scoffs defensively, “Look if it’s about the glasses, I don’t want to hear it. I don’t care if they aren’t prescribed. They look cool!”

“What? No! Forget the glasses. I just saw someone on Twitter say that-“ Harry begins, but is cut off by the ringing on Tom’s phone.

Harry’s shoulders slump as he impatiently taps his foot on the ground. “Hey, Alan.” The older boy answers.

Harry watches as his brother’s face contorts into confusion and maybe a bit of frustration. Tom pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut while still listening to his manager speak through the phone.

“Yeah, man. I can do that.” He says in a surprisingly calm voice, despite his body language presenting the opposite. “Thanks. I’ll see you then.”

He hangs up the phone before slamming it down on the coffee table in front of them. “What’s wrong?” Harry asks.

Tom takes a deep breath, trying his best not to lose his cool. “These damn award shows are always so stressful. There was a schedule change and it’s going to be impossible to make it on time now. I was also just notified that I’m supposed to accept an award for someone; just more anxiety added on.”

‘This must have been what she was talking about’ Tom thinks to himself.

He’s never realized how much the fame and everything that comes with it can truly take a toll on you. It’s never even been an afterthought for him, because he always had you to fall back on. Any time he was stressed or anxious or anything but okay, you were always there to make him feel better. Tom feels a strain on his heart when he realizes he didn’t do the same for you, and this is the consequence.

He takes another deep breath as he becomes overwhelmed with emotions and tears threaten to spill from his eyes. Harry looks at Tom, and he’s immediately torn. He doesn’t want to upset his brother more, but he also doesn’t want to keep this newfound information away from him. He’s going to find out eventually.

Harry reads the tweet to himself again: “@y/nsdaya: I just know Y/n is going to win best actress tonight!!”

Tom raises his head when he hears a ding from his phone. “They’re outside. We have to hurry.” He says with a sniffle.

Harry notices as Tom wipes a few tears from his already reddening eyes. He reaches over and gives him a few sympathetic pats on the back, “It’s going to be alright, man.”

“Let’s hope so.” he mumbles before they both leave the house.

When they both get settled in the limo, Tom remembers. “Oh sorry mate! What is it that you wanted to tell me earlier?”

“Oh..” Harry trails off. He looks down, the tweet still showing on his tiny screen. His eyes travel back to Tom, and he can tell that he’s trying his best to hold it together. With a sigh, Harry locks his phone.

“Margot Robbie is going to be there. I might try getting her number.”

This brings out a genuine laugh from Tom, quickly lightening the mood. “Alright, good luck with that.”

. . .

After the whole routine — walking the red carpet, taking pictures with fans, being friendly with interviewers — Tom was finally able to take his seat in the main area for the award show.

He can’t help but think about you as he sits at his table alone. Usually you two would goof around for the entirety of the night. Often times fans or photographers would catch moments where Tom was admiring you without your knowledge and vice versa.

Admittedly, Tom misses being called “the cutest couple”. No matter how cringeworthy you both thought it was in the moment. He misses getting to hold your hand or getting to pull you in close to him by your waist. And god it feels like a lifetime since he’s heard your voice; heard his name roll beautifully off of your tongue.

If you were with him right now, you’d most likely be making some absurd comment about how you wished they had a buffet. You probably would’ve already taken off your heels and started walking around the venue barefoot. You’d most definitely tease him about how much hair gel he’s wearing, insisting his natural curls would have looked so much better.

Tom smiles sadly at the thought of what could’ve been. He wonders what would have happened if he had just stayed home with you for the first day of the tour like you asked. That could’ve been a game changer. He mentally curses himself at least once a day for not saying yes. Why couldn’t he just say yes?

“You gotta be careful daydreaming, dude. You’ve been staring at Emily Blunt for like three minutes; you’re creeping her out.”

Zendaya’s voice snaps Tom out of his thoughts. He looks up at her, stunned like a dear in the headlights. “W-What?” He stuttered.

With a chuckle, Zendaya reiterates by pointing at Emily, who is looking right back at them. This is when Tom fully registers what Z had said and he begins to blush madly. He awkwardly gives her a wave, which she returns graciously.

“Bloody hell, the night hasn’t even started and I’ve already embarrassed myself.” Tom laughs as he rises to his feet to greet Zendaya with a hug.

“Ah, it’ll be fine. She probably won’t even remember it by the end of the night.” She comforts him. “Come here, I want you to meet some of my friends.”

Before Tom knows it, he’s being dragged by his wrist through the packed crowd of celebrities. Once they finally reach their destination, he’s greeted by a table full of well dressed women.

“These are my girls from Euphoria!” Z introduces excitedly. “We have Hunter, Barbie, Sydney, Alexa, Maude, and Storm.”

“Hi, Tom.” They all giggle collectively.

He clears his throat, “Hello, ladies. Congrats to you lot on the nomination. It’s well deserved.”

A wave of thank you’s erupt from the table. “Congratulations to you too! I loved you in Cherry.” The girl he remembers as Barbie speaks up.

Before he gets a chance to thank her, he feels a hand on his bicep, “And I love you in this suit. Is it Armani?” The girl sitting closest to him gushes. Alexa, he recalls.

Tom feels his body tense. It’s been a while since he’s been on the dating scene, so he can’t tell if she’s flirting or if she’s just a touchy feely type of person. He tries not to read into it too much.

“I don’t know actually. My stylist just handed it to me and I put it on.” He chuckles.

Z slightly tugs at his collar, “You know what? I think this is actually boyfriend material.”

Her comment makes the cast explode into high pitched cheers, causing Tom to turn bright red. “No no no.” He laughs politely, but they can’t hear him over themselves.

He watches as Alexa stands up, closing the already little space that was between them. Unsure of what to do, Tom shoots a quick look at Zendaya, who is wiggling her eyebrows at him suggestively.

‘Yeah, she’s not going to help’ He thinks.

Putting her hands on his chest, Alexa isn’t afraid to get up close and personal. “Luckily for you, boyfriend material is just what I’m looking for.” She winks.

Tom can’t lie, he admires her confidence. He would never be able to go up to someone and blatantly flirt with them, not even you. Cautiously, he puts his hands on her hips and slowly pushes her back, trying to return the space between them.

He continues to chuckle nervously while trying to piece his words together kindly. “Alexa, is it? You’re very beautiful and I appreciate the gesture, but I’m nowhere near ready to start anything with anyone right now. I’m sorry.”

“You’re still not over Y/n?” Zendaya chimes in.

He laughs as if it wasn’t already obvious, “Of course I’m not. It’s only been a little more than five months, you don’t get over someone like Y/n in that amount of time.”

Tom freezes when he realizes all of their eyes were on him and their consistent giggling seized. His big mouth has said too much again. He worriedly looks back at Alexa, who he still has a light grip on. “I really am sorry. I don’t know why I said that out loud.” Tom apologizes again.

Alexa simply shakes her head, “No, it’s okay! I was only joking.. unless you were down. But honestly, it was just innocent flirting.”

Tom subconsciously releases a quick breath of relief before finally dropping his hands to his side. He would’ve felt horrible if he had hurt her feelings, especially since they just met.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened between you two?” The blonde girl asks.

‘Okay, I know her name is Hunter.’ He thinks to himself.

“I loved you both together, I was shocked to hear the news.” She finishes.

He scratches the back of his head, desperately wanting to talk about you but not wanting to reveal too much of his personal life. “Uh it kinda makes me sound like a jerk.” He chuckles.

“We figured.” All the girls say in sync.

Tom is visibly taken aback by their confidence in the fact that he was in the wrong. “Okay wow. How would you guys know?” He scoffs.

“Because you’re the guy. It’s usually always the guy’s fault.” Zendaya answers.

Tom stays silent, not being able to argue with that statement because he knows it’s true.

Alexa pulls out a chair and pats the cushioned seat, “Come on. It’s time for a therapy sesh.”

It doesn’t take much for Tom to give in. He sits down and starts to tell your love story, from the glorious beginning to the devastating end.

. . .

“She was genuinely tired, I could see it in those gorgeous eyes of hers. So I let her go, and it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” He finishes.

The table is silent before Hunter speaks up, “Wow. Call me an angsty bitch, but I love you two even more now.”

Tom laughs lightly as he looks down at his hands, trying to maintain his emotions.

“You’re gonna try again, right?” Maude asks him.

He looks at her, contemplating her question. As much as he hates it, he opens his mouth to say, “No, I think we’re done. Like completely done with one another.”

All the girls groan and complain in protest.

“But why?”

“You have to!”

“Oh, come on!”

“Boo! Boring ending.”

Zendaya lays her arm on Tom’s shoulder, “Come on, Tom. It’s clear you both love each other still. It was just bad timing.”

“Exactly!” Tom exclaims, “Bad timing doesn’t happen to people that are meant to be. Y/n and I just weren’t meant to be.”

More shouts of protest and disagreement emerge.

“It won’t hurt to try!” Sydney says to him.

“It will actually hurt very much.” Tom counters, “What if she’s completely over me by now?”

Storm taps the table to grabs his attention, “Here’s how I see it. ‘Meant to be’ doesn’t mean there won’t be these huge bumps in the road. No couple is perfect, but the BEST couples are able to take time and space away from each other before finding their way back. You and Y/n are the best. If you try again, I guarantee you’ll be stronger than ever. Together.”

The cast agrees with her by clapping and saying things like:

“Well said.”

“Amen, sister.”

“Facts, facts.”

Their antics causes a laugh to escape Tom’s lips. He’s quiet while the girls continue to discuss his relationship amongst one another. He thinks about Storm’s words and they remind him of something you said the day you broke up.

‘Maybe we’ll find our way back to each other one day. We have to, because it will always and forever be me and you against the world.’

Tom leans forward, propping his elbows on the table. The girls go quiet and watch as he carefully considers what he’s going to say next.

He takes a deep breath before looking each of them in the eye, “Y/n and I... are the best.”

Everyone agrees in unison.

Tom smiles fondly at the thought of you being wrapped tightly in his arms once again. Sharing a bed again, eating dinner together, having late movies nights; he can see it all happening again. It’ll be like nothing ever changed.

“Then I’ll talk to her.” He finally decides.

The girls cheer excitedly as all of them get up and engulf him in a group hug. They might be more happy about this than Tom is.

“And who knows! Maybe you’ll be able to talk to her tonight. She’ll be in a good mood if she wins big.” One of the girls say, but he can’t make out who it was.

“Wait what? What do you mean if she wins tonight?” He urgently looks around for answers.

Z chuckles right in his face, “You didn’t know?” is all she says.

“No!” Tom exclaims anxiously, “Didn’t know what?” He continues to ask questions.

“Ladies and gentlemen, if you’ll please get to your assigned seats. We are going live in exactly one minute.” A voice instructs over a loudspeaker.

Tom groans as he reluctantly says his farewells to his new friends and makes his way back to his table. He sees that it’s finally filled with his brother and cast members, and quickly takes a seat.

He leans over to Harry, “Mate, is Y/n here? Or is she who I’m accepting that award on behalf?”

“Yeah. I knew you’d find out eventually.” Harry winces at the troubled look in Tom’s eyes.

“You knew?! Why didn’t you tell me??”

“Because you were stressed enough! I just wanted to make it to the venue without that vein in your neck exploding.” Harry defends himself.

Tom sighs. He can’t be mad at him, his heart was in the right place.

“RDJ isn’t here though.” Harry says, “Maybe he could be the one you’re accepting the award for.”

Tom groans, “I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.”

. . .

One long excruciating hour passes while Tom constantly fiddles with his fingers and bounces his leg up and down. He tried his best to make small talk with his cast, but it was no use.

Is he going to see you tonight? If you’re here, why didn’t you try finding him? What if you don’t want to see him?

‘God, she’s probably way better off without me.’

“You’re going to drill a hole into the ground, Tom.” Harry laughs, referring to his brother’s leg shaking underneath the table.

His nerves are starting to get the best of him, and the only person that calms him down most likely doesn’t even want to see him.

“I think I just need to use the washroom really quick.” He mumbles.

Tom stands on his feet until he hears, “And the nominees for Best Actress are: Emily Blunt for A Quiet Place, Margot Robbie for Birds of Prey, Florence Pugh for Midsommar, and Y/n L/n for Flights Taken...”

His ears perk up at the sound of your name, and he slowly sits back down. You were nominated for Best Actress. For what seemed like the millionth time tonight, Tom’s eyes swell with tears. But they aren’t tears of sadness or regret or even guilt this time. He’s simply just proud of you.

“And the winner is... Y/n L/n for Flights Taken!!”

The audience claps and cheers loudly as one of the songs from the soundtrack to your movie plays on the speakers. Tom makes sure to clap extra loud, glancing around the room for you.

“Due to personal reasons, Y/n could not make it today. She has chosen Mr. Tom Holland to accept the award on her behalf.”

‘She chose me?’ Did he hear that right?

Swiftly composing himself, Tom puts on a smile and makes his way to the stage. Once he’s up there, he collects the award from Timothée Chalamet, who was the one that announced your name. Tom has never met the guy, but he knows he worked with you in Flights Taken. He can remember being slightly jealous at how close you two were.

Putting those thoughts aside, he does the typical bro handshake then half hug thing with Timothée. “Hey man, tell her congratulations for me. She really earned this!” He says to Tom.

“Of course! Thank you!” Tom says to him. “Either this is one cruel motherfucker or he doesn’t know we broke up.” He mumbles once he turns away.

Tom walks up to the podium with the tiny microphone hooked on to it. He suddenly becomes hyper aware of the fact that he didn’t prepare a speech. “Uh...” He immediately trails off, not knowing where to start. Luckily he’s saved by the most angelic voice to ever grace his ears.

“Hey everybody! So sorry I couldn’t make it tonight.”

Tom turns to the big screen behind him, and there you are. You’re glowing. His heart flutters and his senses drown out his surroundings. 100% of his focus is on you.

“I just want to thank everyone that helped me get to this point. I didn’t think starting off in this industry at only 19 years old would get me here so quickly, but because of my amazing support system.. here I am.” You singsong that last bit and do a little dance.

“There’s my girl.” Tom smiles says to himself. He missed seeing you happy. He’s absolutely overjoyed to see that a genuine smile is back on your lips. Tom swears he can feel the air filling his lungs because of you.

You go through a quick list of people you wanted to thank. You also congratulate your fellow nominees, insisting they deserve the award more than you do. But everyone knows that isn’t true.

“And lastly I want to thank Tom. You have been a major part of my life and you always will be. I chose you to accept the award for me because there’s no way I could’ve gotten it without you. And also because I trust you more than Timmy to actually send it to me.” You joke. “You have pushed me to be better in so many ways, and I hope one day I can repay you for that. No matter what’s in our past or what’s to be presented in our future, it’s me and you against world. Always has been, forever will be.”

Your voice cracks as you finish up your sentence. Briskly, you wipe a rogue tear that slid down your cheek before you look into the camera and smile brightly. You sniffle, “Oh and by the way. You need to make room in your hands there, Thomas, because you are the winner of Best Actor for the film Cherry! Congratulations!” You clap and cheer in your video before it disappears off the screen.

Tom looks over to the side and Timothée is there presenting him with his very own award for the night. As he accepts it, Tom smiles tearfully. Between winning in his own category, seeing your face, and hearing you say it’s still you and him against the world, Tom is walking on cloud nine. He hovers over the microphone to make his speech.

“Wow, what a surprise...”

. . .

Knock, knock, knock

You hear three raps at your front door. “Just a second!” You yell, hoping whoever it is can hear you from the back porch.

You were in the middle of watering your plants — another hobby you picked up over your hiatus.

After making sure to carefully set down the watering can, you rapidly make your way to the front door.

You carelessly swing it wide open, expecting it to be the delivery man. Retail therapy is another intense hobby you may or may not have picked up along the way.

“Oh.. hi.” You say with a shocked tone. It’s a delivery, but it’s definitely not the face you expected to see.

“Hi.” Tom smiles, an award for Best Actress in his hands. “Did you even look through the peephole? I could’ve been a serial killer!” He playfully scolds you.

You jokingly scoff at his remark before reaching into your pocket. “Don’t worry, I got my backup.” You say as you wave your sparkly can of pepper spray in his face.

“Fair enough.” He laughs, and it instantly warms your heart. You didn’t realize how terribly you needed to see him. Butterflies swarm your stomach as you take him all in.

“Come in.” You smile and step aside to allow him in your house.

This action reminds both of you of the last time Tom was here. You’re liking this parallel a lot more than the one that took place on that gloomy day.

He walks in and places your award on the table next to the couch. Tom takes a minute to take a look around. “Wow, you’ve really livened up the place.”

“Well I had a lot of free time on my hands.” You chuckle, taking a look at the rearrangements yourself.

You look at Tom, who’s already stopped looking at the interior design and is admiring you instead. Your eyes lock, and in this moment you swear you can feel the world slow down. A sense of peace overcomes your body, and your empty home finally feels complete. All it took was one look.

Realizing you were indulged in an unspoken staring contest, you break the eye contact and shake your head. “Uh, you can take a seat. M-Maybe I can make you some tea. If you want, of course.”

“No, Y/n, that’s fine.”

“You’re right, I’m horrible at making tea. But you can make it yourself, I know you like it a certain way. It’s not like you don’t know where the kitchen is.” You begin to laugh and ramble nervously.

Tom senses your anxiety, and makes a bold move for a couple of people who are just friends. He takes both of your hands in his and closes the space in between you two. You’re now so close that his minty breath wafts your nose, making your legs weak. It’s been too long.

“I miss you.” Tom whispers after a beat of silence.

You almost say it back. But you have to stop and think for a moment. You broke up for a reason. This could snowball into something that could reverse all the progress you have made for yourself. And you couldn’t bear the thought of falsely leading Tom to think that something could rekindle.

“Tom...”

“Please don’t say it. Please. Just hear me out.”

You give him the benefit of the doubt, mostly because you haven’t heard his voice in months. And although you don’t want to tell him right now, you’ve missed him too.

He leads you to the couch and you both take a seat. “Y/n, I... You don’t know how hard it has been without you. I’m sorry that I didn’t appreciate you enough when I had you, that’s by far the dumbest mistake I’ve ever made in my life. You deserved a lot better and I can see that now.”

There comes a moment when he’s dead silent for a few seconds, just staring into your eyes trying to find the right words to say. Instinctively, you run a hand through his hair and softly caress his cheek — something you’ve always done when he was so stressed to the point of silence.

His body visibly loosens up as he begins again with a shaky voice, “I’m not saying any of this to try and make you feel bad or sorry for me in any way. I know you’ve been doing a lot better and I would never want to interfere with your progress. But if you think it’s something you can handle, I want to try.”

“Try what, baby?” ...instinct. You both decide to ignore the pet name as Tom continues.

“I want to try finding our way back to each other. We can move as fast or as slow as you need. We don’t have to tell anyone. We don’t even have to call it official. I just... I need you in my life. I don’t want to go other month without talking to you or seeing your face or holding you in my arms. But this isn’t about what I want, this is about you. I just needed to come by and tell you in person that I’m willing to do this, if you are.”

You sit there speechless. Your heart and brain are telling you two different things — what you want and what you need. “Please don’t feel pressured to answer me right now. Take your time, honestly. I know you need your space, so I’m going to go.”

He hesitantly pushes himself off of the couch, prepared to walk away without knowing what’s going on inside your head. Hell, you don’t even know what’s going on inside your head.

But you do know one thing. He’s wrong. You don’t need space, it’s what you wanted. What you really do need... is him.

Without thinking, you grab a hold of his hand to stop him from leaving. He looks at you as you slowly rise to your feet, never once breaking eye contact with him.

“It can’t be me and you against the world if there’s no me and you.. right?” You squeak, fighting the lump in your throat.

Tom smiles a tight smile and as if someone queued you both to do so, your lips crash together. Your hands fly to his curls while his arms wrap firmly around your lower back. The familiar taste of his lips was enough to melt away any worry you might’ve had.

The kiss only grows more passionate. Slowly, Tom lays you back down on the couch and he hovers over you. Without wasting time, you tug at the bottom of his shirt and he gets the idea. No interruptions this time. Tom breaks the kiss momentarily as you help him remove his shirt. You shamelessly gawk at his body, forgetting how muscular he was. He takes this time to remove your shirt as well, dramatically discarding it across the living room.

Tom hungrily grabs you by the arms and skillfully pulls you on top of his lap. In a flash, your lips are reconnected. The more you tug on his hair, the more he has to restrain himself from grasping your hips too hard. Still, he manages to move you back and forth over his lap, resulting in a low moan from the both of you.

“Wow, someone really did miss me.” You joke breathlessly.

Tom laughs dryly, “You clearly missed me more, darling.”

You both pause before laughing loudly at each other’s desperation, oddly feeling like things were already back to normal.

“We’re gonna take this slow, right?”

Tom gets serious when you ask this. “Of course, as slow as you want.”

You run your thumb over his rose tinted cheeks. “Is asking to move this to the bedroom too fast?” You smile cheekily.

Tom smirks and his cheeks turn even more red. “Nope, I think that’s perfect timing actually.”

With ease, he lifts the both of you up from the couch and runs up the stairs with you in his strong arms. You squeal as you bounce around with every step.

“Oh Tom, watch out for the-“

You both go crashing to the ground when a loud thud.

A groan comes from Tom, “Why would you put the coffee table in the middle of the hallway?”

“I was trying to put it in the room!”

The two of you start to laugh uncontrollably as you both lay shirtless on the ground. It was in this moment that you knew, finding your way back wouldn’t be hard at all. You were great alone, but you’re the best when you’re together. Always. Forever.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Here’s the highly requested part 2 for Tired!! I hope it met everyone’s expectations, i really tried my best!! Thank you for all the love and support you guys give my fics <3

Like usual, positive feedback is always welcomed and encouraged.

Sorry for any typos. I usually write at night so i’m like half asleep most of the time lmao. I have so many more fic ideas for Tom AND Peter and I’m so excited to share it with y’all :))

#tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland x actress!reader #tom holland angst #tom holland x reader #tom holland #peter parker x reader #peter parker #tom holland fic #peter parker x avengers!reader

[gaylorgaze]

COWBOY LIKE ME IS ABOUT JOE ALWYN...but not in the way you think it is.

If you're not a gaylor you might as well stop reading from here.

Obviously, this is just a conspiracy so don't come @ me.

I'm going to breakdown exactly why I think this is one of the only songs (other than London Boy, of course. "YOU KNOW I love a London boy" cuz WE KNOW she does but that ain't the truth) Tay wrote about Joe, and she probably wrote this because he's been her longest cover who does exactly what he's required to, and always manages to stay out of controversy. I think he's the most strategic PR stunt her team has ever pulled off.

And you asked me to dance But I said, "Dancing is a dangerous game" Oh, I thought This is gonna be one of those things

So, "this is gonna be one of those things" as in when they met, her team probably set Joe up as her newest PR stunt and so when the time came for them to put it into play, she warns him about it and thinks to herself "another one of these" because she's done them so many times before with Harry etc

I've got some tricks up my sleeve Takes one to know one You're a cowboy like me Never wanted love Just a fancy car

Joe obviously doesn't care for love or any of that with her, he's just wanting to make the most of all the publicity he'll be getting for being her boyfriend. Just like how Taylor helped Harry and also got publicity for herself so she could cover up her's and Dianna's relationship.

Perched in the dark Telling all the rich folks anything they wanna hear Like it could be love I could be the way forward Only if they pay for it

Joe is obviously not a famous actor, so he's "perched in the dark" i.e., not in the spotlight and maybe she's implying he's the kind of person who's willing to bend to her will and do whatever's required to pull off the PR stunt if he gets his publicity. And let's be honest, he's gotten pretty popular because of Taylor despite it not being a "public" stunt, but we all know that the crumbs of Taylor-Joe we get are clearly fabricated like the hike they went on ahead of the Delicate mv release, with Joe wearing dark jeans and Nikes, bruh.

You're a bandit like me Eyes full of stars Hustling for the good life Never thought I'd meet you here

These lines speak for themselves. Joe's obviously hustling for the good life, he's just entered the industry and is trying to make his way to the top with hope in his eyes for the future he wants, just like how Taylor was in the beginning of her career.

And the skeletons in both our closets Plotted hard to mess this up And the old men that I've swindled Really did believe I was the one

I'm unsure about this verse. Maybe Joe's gay too? And people who used to know these two individually and also know about their preferences probably threatened to out them? I'd love to hear what you people think about this. Maybe we can figure it out together. &&& her famous PR stunts before this were Hiddleston and Calcium Hydroxide, both older than her. Maybe they thought she would bring them more fame too because Taylor was very much in the scene when she "dated" them.

And the ladies lunching have their stories about When you passed through town But that was all before I locked it down

Gossip queens, gossiping about how Joe might just be a PR stunt before Taylor made anything official and we all just saw crumbs of them together like the balcony pictures. But then she made it public before more people could call it a PR stunt and of course everyone's going to take her word for it. (not us gaylors, hah!)

Now you hang from my lips Like the Gardens of Babylon

BESTIES, LET ME JUST SHOW YOU WHAT THE GARDENS OF BABYLON LOOK LIKE

Plants.. growing out of a building.. covering it here and there.. almost.. like a.. beard? Like, COME ON!! What else can this line mean? YOU HANG FROM MY LIPS LIKE THE GARDENS OF BABYLON, you hang from my lips like a fucking beard!!!

With your boots beneath my bed Forever is the sweetest con

It's a common saying that when cowboys got intimate with whoever, they left their boots beneath the beds. Your shoes, boots etc beneath my bed implies they've been intimate, BUT the scenario here is different. She's just playing this whole thing out, none of it is real with Joe so she's saying it's the sweetest way to con people, make everyone believe they are real and that they are forever.

And I'm never gonna love again

She's been burned enough by her exes, even though none of her queer relationships were public, people still sniffed them out, and it got her in trouble. Like with Karlie, because they were so close in public, it wreaked havoc. So, she's probably saying she'll never go public with any of her lovers even under the disguise of friendship.

Please add your two cents!

#gaylor

[parkers-gal]

It’s me who requested for the styles!reader😌 I’ve got a concept about styles!reader hehe, it’s cliche but where they meet each other for the first time?? Or tom having a crush on reader but but harry is hesitant about it? :)) thank you in advance 💕

sorry it took so long bby :( hope u like this tho ! 

wc | 1.2k <3

｡☆✼★━━ requests are closed ━━★✼☆｡

Harry Styles: your brother, the boy who invited his entire family to the Academy Awards. There’s a good blend of artists and actors here tonight, and you're incredibly proud of him and his newest and debut film: Dunkirk.

You’d walked the red carpet after Harry, waving to the paparazzi and saying hello to the interviewers you recognized. You locked eyes with a certain actor from across the carpet, but you were pulled away from him before you could stare any longer. It was probably all in your head, anyways.

As you gather inside, the stage lights are dim, alerting you that the show hasn’t started yet and conversations can continue within the auditorium. You’re seated in between Gemma and Harry, and on Harry’s other side is Tom Hardy, conversing with him.

You can’t help but watch the entrance of the building as actors keep pouring in, some holding hands with their lovers, others linking arms with costars. When a familiar brunette strides through with a couple other people trailing behind him, you feel yourself heating up and you force yourself to turn away. Your dress is a deep shade of green, sleeves draped over your arms in a loose lace fitting. The dress poofs out and hangs nicely on your figure; Harry insisted on getting something tailored, and now here you are, showing off the creation.

Twisting in your seat, you glance around to look for that certain-somebody, and you’re taken aback when you see him in the row behind you, already staring at you. Your mouth drops open in shock, something he smirks at, and as you do a once over on his outfit, he blushes. Quickly, you turn back around and sit harshly in the seat.

“You good, squirt?” Harry asks, hand on the arm of his chair while he takes in the signs of your stance. You nod quickly, dismissively, hoping to shake him off your tail, but he looks around before shrugging a smirk off. When he peers over the seat, he makes eye contact with a fellow British actor who’s blushing while harshly gripping the arms of his chair, no doubt sweating through his tuxedo.

“Whatever,” he speaks through a teasing tone. Though he’s being playful, it’s only because he thinks nothing will come from the newly arisen sexual tension.

However, he’s proven wrong when the after party begins.

You’re sitting at a rounded table with Harry and a few of his friends who are also in Hollywood’s spotlight. Of course, your family is also here, but you can’t help but feel like there’s a lingering pair of eyes following you from across the room.

Excusing yourself to the bar, you stand from your seat and place your napkin on the table, abandoning the comfort of your loved ones and making your way to the bar, making eye contact with the brown-haired boy, a seemingly universally accepted message. Not a second later, he stands from his own table, eyes following you until his feet pick up and he heads in your direction.

Unbeknownst to both of you, Harry watches the entire encounter with a clenched jaw. He watches as you lean against the bar, as the actor fellow strides over to you. He wants to laugh because you both look entirely awkward and nervous, but alas, he turns away and convinces himself you’ll be back in a matter of minutes. Nothing will come from it.

“H-Hey,” Tom greets, elbow leaning on the counter. You adjust your hair and look down bashfully.

The bartender asks for your orders and you both pitch. You take a seat on the stool while you wait, Tom’s eyes drifting downwards and absorbing your outfit.

“Hi.”

“You look beautiful, by the way.”

“Thank you,” you speak quietly, shying away from the compliment.

“I’m… I’m Tom,” he offers a hand and a gentle smile. You look up at his eyes and then down to his hand before shaking it.

“Y/N.”

“Styles?”

“Yeah,” you sigh out with a chuckle.

Tom nods, glancing over to your table and making eye contact with your older brother. “Harry is… intimidating.”

You hum, “Why’s that?”

“He’s your older brother who happens to be staring daggers into my soul.”

You laugh at that, turning your head in the direction of the older bloke. With an embarrassed eye roll, you gesture for him to look away but he doesn’t move.

“He’s always like this?”

“What, protective?” You offer, taking a sip of your fresh Aqua Velva. Tom sips his own beer with a nod. “Yeah — mostly around potential, uhm, boyfriends. It takes a lot for him to warm up to new people in that, uh… sense.”

Tom nods, and you watch the blush creep up on his face and tint his cheeks a bright pink-red.

“What about you?���

“What about me?”

You roll your eyes and Tom chuckles while taking a seat on the stool beside you. “You got any brothers? I noticed you brought a few boys with you.”

“Yeah, I’ve got three younger bros,” he takes another gulp of the beverage before placing the glass down.

You nod, acknowledging his words. “Must be nice.”

“What?”

“Being the oldest.”

“Eh,” he shrugs, fiddling with the trousers of his suit. “I’ve always been the oldest, y’know? I guess I’m just used to… being that supportive older brother who cheers them on.”

“That’s really sweet,” you compliment, placing a hesitant hand on his knee.

Tom glances up at you at the single affection, blush increasing while he smiles shyly. You smile back, assuring him of your statement, and he can’t help but get bashful under your gaze.

“You’re really cool,” he speaks softly so only the two of you can hear him. “Do you… wanna hang out or- or something?”

Your grin widens and you nod at the ground, too shy for eye contact. Before the conversation can progress any more, your brother is striding up, his famous voice surprising the both of you.

“Who’s this?”

Your hand retracts immediately and Tom stands from the stool almost too quickly, nearly knocking over his own drink. Tom offers a hand, but when he has to look up to make eye contact with your older brother, he almost cowers backwards. You can sense Tom’s nervousness, so with newfound courage, you stand beside both of them.

“Harry, this is Tom. Tom, this is my brother.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Tom re-offers his hand.

Harry hums, accepting it nonetheless. “‘S nice to meet you, too.” They lazily shake hands, and you roll your eyes at your brother’s antics.

“I’m sure Gemma needs her drink now.”

“How did you-”

“Tom and I are gonna go dance for a little,” You grab his hand quickly, the two of you abandoning your finished drinks and quickly striding away from the six foot Brit.

Tom exhales deeply when you’re just over ten feet away, free of the confines. “He’s so intimidating.”

You smile, looking down at your linked hands. “Only because he knows you’re a potential boyfriend.”

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x styles!reader #tom holland x famous!reader #styles!reader #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #tom holland oneshot #tom holland fluff #tom holland fluffy #boyfriend!tom holland #tom fic #tom x reader #tom holland fic rec

[itsbeaconhillsbaby]

I love your writings, they’re so good and realistic and not weird and cringe like some others on here, by far the best I’ve seen in a while !! Was just wondering if you’re taking requests and if so if you could do one when your an actress and have always had a crush on him but you meet him at an after party at a premier or something and have flirty banter and maybe more ? Thankyou x

hello my lovely x

this is so unbelievably sweet I've been screaming since this popped into my inbox. I wanted to start this off by saying a massive thank you - this is my first ever requested piece and I am so excited to be able to create something for you! this is a milestone fic: the 10th fic that I've written for tom, and is also one of my longest!! I also want to apologise for how long it has taken me; I started on this a while ago now and you have been so patient and kind! please enjoy and let me know what you think! (also the timing that this is now coming out on his birthday is all the spook!!) 

after party antics || tom holland x reader

word count: 2729 warnings: alcohol use summary: premiere after party meet cute

Circular tables filled the floor as glittering chandeliers hung low from the ceilings above. Pretty foliage and large blooming fresh flowers in pastel pinks, greens and blues, draped through the room, entangling themselves around chairs and across wooden beams. Lace, satin and chiffon brushed along the floors as what felt like the entire film industry conversed with one another; hands clutching at suit jacketed arms, glasses clinking in cheers. 

Music, chatter, camera flashes and laughing filled the room - sounds reverberating all around. You glide through the crowds, smiling and nodding your thanks as people congratulated you from either side.

Taking a detour from your path, you spotted the signs for the bathroom and let out a shaky exhale when it appeared empty. Resting your hands on the wash basin and closing your eyes, you took a couple of deep breaths before your face erupted into a toothy grin, a small squeal of excitement bubbling from your lips.

You were at an after-party.

For your very first film.

Surrounded by some of Hollywood’s finest.

WHAT!

If your best friend woke you up stating that this was all some insane dream, you wouldn’t be surprised. It would make more sense, actually – this just couldn’t be your life.

You could feel yourself spiralling and spritzed a little bit of water onto your face to calm yourself down, making sure not to ruin the amazing make-up look that your team had spent so long perfecting earlier that day.

The premiere had only just finished.

You had walked across the red carpet on wobbly legs – cameras flashing, thousands of fans screaming from behind barriers, photographers and press overpowering each other in order to get the best angles and shots; screaming for you to ‘look over here’, ‘turn to the side.’

The premiere had only just finished up as you sat amongst a drool-worthy cast; some of the biggest names in Hollywood. Joining such a large cast was daunting, especially considering who some of those people were – and more so since it was with Marvel, one of - if not the - biggest film franchises out there.

You took another look in the mirror, tucking your hair behind your ears and smoothing down the front. Giving a twirl in your signature Teuta Matoshi gown, the tulle dress embroidered with tiny little yellow daffodils and white daisies, you took a moment to admire your favourite designer as you adjusted the slightly puffed sleeves before leaving the restroom.

You held the door open behind you to allow for a gaggle of tall women to enter in beautiful flowing gowns, turning abruptly to shift yourself out of the way - smiling at them as they all smiled back.

Up on the tips of your toes, wobbling slightly in your heels, you try to peer over the heads of the masses of people. You were eagerly looking for your team, consisting of your incredible manager and your best friend, who you dragged everywhere with you. But you could barely see past the sea of heads in front of you.

You decided to head for the heavy, wide double-set doors that stood open, leading out into the freshly manicured gardens; alive with luscious trees, plants and flowerbeds. A separate dirt path led into a lowly lit rose garden that was nestled in amongst the grasses.

It was a little quieter outside, but not by much.

There was a large marquee to your immediate left. A bar was situated at one end as bottles were flipped in the air - waiters passing out trays lined with champagne flutes. Pristinely clothed tables were crowded with guests; bodies tumbled past you as they headed into the marquee - parties splitting into different locations now that the main event had concluded, leading into a very alive and wild after party. 

Your cheeks ached as the smile on your face refused to drop. Too amazed by your surroundings to let it relax. You stand out on the patio area, looking out across the gardens towards the glow of the city in the distance, lights twinkling in exchange for stars. Despite the dry warmth of the evening you could feel the lightest of winds raising the tiny hairs on your arms. 

“Room for another?”

You jumped slightly at the interruption, the voice light and questioning. You turn, your dress dancing around you.

“Sorry, I hope I’m not interrupting. I’m Tom, I’ve been meaning to introduce myself all night. Congratulations on the film!”

As you exchange pleasantries, your cheeks gathering up some heat beneath the radiant glow of your make-up, he presses forwards leaning in for a hug as you do the same. You can feel his hands against the bare skin at your back leaving behind tiny little goose-bumps in their place, your skin tingling from his touch. You couldn’t help but breathe in his cologne, the pleasant woodsy scent engulfing you.

“Ah, so you’re the spider guy? I think I’m getting the hang of these superhero names now.”

Your lips twitch, forming a playful smile.

He tilts his head ever so slightly to the side, eyeing you up as tiny crinkles appeared around the outside of his eyes. They were looking at you inquisitively with a sweet kind of intensity.

You could feel your heart kick up a notch under his gaze. You scolded yourself internally for your lack of composure. Of course, you knew who Spider-Man was, you’d been such a fan of the Marvel films for years and you’d have to have been blind not to notice the cute, brown haired, quick witted, web-slinger who the world quickly fell in love with. They weren’t the only ones; did he look even better in person? How was that even fair? You shook your head slightly at your thoughts in an attempt to dispel them from your conscious.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I’m a fan of yours – your work is brilliant.”

You continued on with your bumbling word vomit – a light pink blush evident across your cheekbones and nose.

Tom’s face lights up more as you stumble over your sentences, his eyes glistening in the darkening sky.

“Oh really? Big fan, hm?” He wiggles his eyebrows teasingly, before calling upon one of the many smartly dressed men and women swooping seamlessly through the crowds with their glossy black trays.

You take a moment to drink him in. His crisp navy suit sat comfortably unbuttoned, the satin shirt hugging the figure beneath. He looked older than you’d seen him portray onscreen; his jaw strong and chiselled. His shoulders and body filled out his suit comfortably, hair beautifully fluffed; although it did seem slightly rumpled, as though he had been running his hands through it.

“Oh yeah,” You paused for a beat before continuing, “Then again, I think you’re about the 30th actor I’ve said that to tonight.”

He nods, laughing, his eyes lighting up at your relaxed, playful energy.

“Oh. Okay, nice. No, I see how it is. New girl keeping us all on our toes with the flattery.”

He holds one of the crystal champagne flutes out to you before picking up his own. Shimmering, golden liquid danced as you accepted the glass, fingertips brushing over open palms.

The cool bubbles gently slid down your throat. You could feel eyes on you as you focussed on the glass in your hand.

“Have you met everyone yet?” Tom gestured towards to the lit-up marquee, “A lot of us were talking about how great you were in your film, they’ll want to meet you.”

“Now who’s full of the flattery,” You tease, nudging his arm slightly as he shakes his head at you, “But honestly, I haven’t, I’m kind of finding it all a little bit intimidating. I’ve also lost my team which is not helpful.”

You took another sweep of the area. Now low-key wishing that you wouldn’t find them for a little while, not if it meant that you could continue to talk with Tom with no interruptions.

“Well hey, I can introduce you? I was so terrified when I did my first Marvel premiere, but everyone is so great. Trust me. It’s like a strange, crazy dysfunctional family. I think you fit in perfectly.”

“Are you calling me strange, crazy and dysfunctional? You have an interesting way of making friends, Holland.” You both laugh, “Only if you’re sure though? I don’t want you to be stuck introducing me all night.”

“Don’t be silly. We’ll make it fun. C’mon.”

Tom led you through the entrance of the marquee, turning on the charm as people fist bumped or pulled him in for a quick hug or handshake. Every time they did he peered through his eyelashes at you, inviting you to introduce yourself.

As you made jokes and conversed with your new peers, Tom couldn’t stop himself from watching you. Your name had been all the buzz recently and he’d been eager to meet you. Not only because you were undoubtedly going to be working with each other on future projects, but because you were also getting thrown into the Marvel spotlight like he had been. Little did he realise just how enamoured he had become with you in such a short space of time. There was something about you, he thought, as your cheeks glowed, a wide grin resting upon your face, eyes dancing wildly as you spoke with your new peers - something that he felt drawn to. You noticed him staring and gave him a little wink, shaking him out of it as he joined back into the conversation.

****

The two shot glasses sloppily thump against the bar top.

“Ha!”

“What! No, I was totally first!” Tom protested loudly, throwing his hands into the air.

“I definitely beat you!”

You smiled politely at the bartender as he collected the row of glasses lined up in front of you before turning wildly to face Tom.

“You just can’t face the fact that I won.”

He gestures to his brother who had pulled up a stool to join you both, “Harry c’mon, I won right?!”

“You can’t ask him that, it’s cheating. He’s your brother, of course he’s going to pick your side.”

“Tom, I hate to say this mate but I think she has you beat…” Harry said regretfully, camera slung around his neck as he nursed his own drink, mouth falling into an upturned grin as he supervised the pair of you.

You looked past Tom, straight at Harry, grinning proudly, “I take it back, Harry’s opinion is very important.”

Tom gives Harry a gentle shove as they mess around. You feel an arm slink around your shoulders, giving a playfully gentle squeeze. Your heart thumps along to the beat of the bass, music pulsing through your very bones as the three of you continued to laugh and joke around. Tom’s hair had gotten far more rumpled as the night had gone on, a long way off the perfectly styled look that he’d started off with.

You decided you preferred it messy.

Tom was sitting close by you on his stool, your knees both knocking together. His foot was tapping the footrest to the beat of the music. He’d discarded his suit jacket, and it now hung from the back of the chair, leaving him in his fitted shirt. You couldn’t help but notice his defined muscles as he ran a hand through his hair before resting it on the back of your seat.

“You look really pretty tonight. I saw you walking the carpet earlier, you completely owned it up there.”

“Tom Holland, are you flirting with me?”

You spun in your seat a little bit, making direct eye contact as your hand rested gently on his knee.

As soon as the pair of you had challenged each other to a drinking competition (involving a lot of shots) the night flew by, and you found yourself becoming more and more comfortable with Tom. He was quickly going from that cute actor who you had a little crush on, to someone you were actually spending time with? The intimidation you were feeling from earlier had dissipated, leaving you feeling slightly fuzzy and very happy.

He shrugs, that cheeky grin appearing again. A twinkle shining within those gorgeous brown eyes.

“I don’t know. Am I?”

He slides off of his seat, holding a hand out to you, palm up.

“C’mon.”

“Where are we going?” You questioned, as Harry returned with the drinks.

“Dance floor.”

You can feel your face light up as you hopped down from the high stool, gripping onto Tom’s hand as he helped navigate you back down to solid ground. He whispered to his brother who comfortably started up a conversation with the people around him, before giving him a pat on the shoulder as you dragged him over to the dance floor.

The floor was already packed with bodies. A live DJ station was against one wall facing out into the crowd; flashing, swirling lights brightened up the outdoor space. You pointed out a space in amongst the crowd and Tom led you both towards it, far better at making a path through the wayward limbs than you would have been.

The space was small, and the pair of you were in extremely close proximity. This was the most at ease you’d felt all night, allowing yourself to just feel the music and dance with one of the sweetest, most charming and insanely attractive men you’d possibly ever met. The space quickly filled up, growing tighter until you and Tom were practically chest to chest. He was a quick mover; his hips, legs and arms moving in all the right directions.

Your bodies were pressed together tightly, rapid heartbeats beating as one.

He leans in, pressing up against your side, brushing some stray hairs out of your face, “I also meant what I said earlier. You’re really beautiful tonight.”

“Just tonight?” You whisper into his ear, leaving him to flounder slightly on the dance floor. A little colour flushed to his cheeks as he lifted an arm, spinning you under it.

Before he has a chance to answer, you continue.

“You don’t scrub up too badly yourself, Holland.”

As the two of you lock eyes; the heat from the dance floor, the pounding of the music and the dancing, twinkling lights all fade to the background. His eyes dart to your lips, and you can't help but follow his lead, when you can suddenly hear your name being called out in the crowd.

"Oh my god, I got her. We've been looking for you for ages!" You were suddenly no longer face to face with the cute boy but instead looking into the slightly stressed face of your manager, "It's nearly 4am, the car is here and we gotta go!" She took a moment to look between you and Tom, who suddenly now looked a little bit embarrassed and sheepish - nervously rubbing at the back of his neck.

"Oh. Sorry, I've interrupted something here, haven't I?" She awkwardly made her way back through the crowd after whispering a sorry in your direction.

You smile at Tom, and make your way out from the dance floor. He was close behind you, nodding to a group of people back up at the bar.

He pulls you in for a goodbye hug, embracing you similarly to how you'd hugged earlier in the evening. Except this time was full of promise and a strange tension that hadn't been present before. You could feel the goosebumps prickle your skin where he touched it - his hands gentle as he held them tight around your waist, breathing you in before pulling away.

"Thank you for tonight, Tom. I owe you, seriously."

As you hurriedly caught up to your team, dress fluttering behind you as you immediately begin laughing and chatting animatedly to them, you could feel eyes on you. You looked back as you continued to vacate the marquee and head for the cars out front. Tom was stood, staring after you, a bright smile on his lips.

Something told you this wasn't the last you'd hear from him, and your stomach flip-flopped immediately at the very thought of seeing him again after tonight. For now however, the image of the brown haired, glossy eyed young man smiling after you in awe would have to be enough.

#glamour-l #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland fluff #tom holland meet cute #asks #lisa writes #you should've seen my reaction to getting my first request THE EXCITMENT #I haven't posted fic in ages now tho and im all shy and nervous again omg #I really hope you like it

[wincore]

act iii, incomplete | ten

pairing: ten x reader

summary: it’s the same vivid dream every time — you, a feline constellation that keeps smiling at you and a boy who won’t ever forgive you. autumn, spring and everything in between come to save part of that but the truth is this: no amount of time spent at your small town theatre with your once best friend is going to speak the words for you.

alternatively, 

best friends aren’t meant to be lovers and ten, despite the millions of roles he’s played, keeps trying for the one role he won’t ever get.

genre: childhood best friends to lovers, slight theatre au, reincarnation themes, fluff, angst

warnings: alcohol consumption, mentions of injuries, mentions of death

words: 23.9k

a/n: hello i’m so glad i actually completed this !!!!! i’ve never written something like this before !!! also longest fic let’s gooo ahaha special thank you to miss cat for reading this and making it at least infinity times better i am in indebted to u <3. playlist here.

part of the almost collab by @hyucksie !! (thank you for hosting this, it was lovely to be a part!!)

ACT I: HOMESICK

act i scene i. 

For the first time in years, you hold your breath at the local theatre, the walls more and more debilitated each year. It’s the only place, perhaps, that is so vibrant in its dull shades. The key is memories. Memories keep you alive in a way death and life and sickness cannot interfere. 

A single drum beat resounds through the theatre. A second one follows before a tune from a flute sets the mood. A voice speaks out, that of a woman, and it strikes you as somewhat sad. In that moment, you believe Ten would have pointed out to you that she is meant to do that, she is meant to play the part of someone sad. The curtains stare at you as undulating as a calm sea of red and you hold your breath. 

This is a modern play and you’ve only kept up with them for the sake of watching Ten play a part in them. As for other plays, high school Shakespeare was the most formidable text you’ve ever read and you’d rather not fight for your life again.

“Has the world ever seen a woman’s love unrivalled?”

A projector displays a flower, peonies, on the curtains.

“She once fell sick, dreaming of a lover; and once sick, she grew worse. Love is not love at its fullest if one is not willing to die for it.”

You don’t think that’s quite right. The curtains are drawn right then, their velvet sheen accentuated under the bright theatre lights and two characters appear on stage. 

Your first thought is that he’s grown far too much. The second is that he hasn’t changed much. Ten stands in the character of a play you haven’t finished reading yet, in clothes that accentuate his dancer’s figure and with the look of someone that isn’t him. You had tried to read  the play earlier but you might have gotten a little too excited to complete it. 

You bounce your legs in anticipation, the music and his voice fading out—it’s not like you can focus much with the high school kids giggling and making out in the seats right behind yours. You could always make a scene but it’s not like you to steal the spotlight away from your dearest friend. Besides, you need to reiterate through the list of things you have to help him catch up on since he’s been gone. Ten wouldn’t want to miss out on some spicy gossip. You chuckle to yourself, pressing your palms to your cheeks to cool yourself. 

Ten likes overwhelming responses. You like to be overwhelming. You’re the perfect pair. 

The play ends in a way you can’t tell if it was a tragedy or a comedy. You could have if you paid more attention but this isn’t literature class. You can do whatever you want now and you’re a little preoccupied with your own thoughts. Ten. Your best friend is back from Broadway after a year of barely talking. You can’t wait to hear the stories.

You get up as soon as the lights are on but when no one else does, you sit back down. The curtains part now and the cast comes on for their final bow. You shift around to see if Ten is looking at you, the older people beside you grunting in annoyance and muttering something about the youth. He’s not but Sicheng is and when you send a wink his way, he shakes his head.

You pout at the lack of attention but it’s time to make your way backstage now. The crowd is exiting and you need to get there before Ten leaves. 

Once outside, you make a beeline to the back of the theatre building and mess up Sicheng’s hair as he leaves for home. 

“He’s inside,” he informs curtly and makes as much distance possible between the two of you.

“Oh, don’t be shy, Sicheng,” you coo to annoy him. “You performed so well. Not as good as Ten though.”

Sicheng rolls his eyes. “Were you even paying attention?”

You cross your arms and push him onto his track. He shrugs and you watch his figure disappear behind the corner before taking a deep breath. With anticipation, comes a little unrestrained droplet of anxiety. You shouldn’t be worried, you tell yourself. This is Ten, after all.

The crows sing a song to themselves under the purple evening sun and you feel annoyed at the sound. It’s a song for ghosts. You hate the sound of it. 

You rub your temples, trying to hush away the headache. You can’t wait to see Ten.

You swing the door open in an attempt to sneak up on him. However, you take a few moments to see him barefaced, the stage makeup washed off and a red undertone running through his nose and cheeks. That dark mop of hair sticks out every which way, and no attempt has been made to rectify it. It was once your job, actually. He rubs at his sleepy eyes, a yawn escaping his lips as he stuff his belongings into a worn-out satchel bag. You gave it to him when you skipped prom night. You smile. 

“Ten!” you yell at the top of your lungs. You’ve missed him so much—an old greeting should warm him up. This town started feeling more like home once you heard the news Ten’s back.

He looks at you so cold that you stop dead in your tracks. You freeze up, the words suddenly collapsing into themselves like wilting flowers. You don’t recognize Ten all of a sudden. He wears a deep frown and empty eyes, something you cannot understand no matter what angle you look from. Everything’s changed now, hasn’t it? You truly understand what that means when you meet his eyes.

“Ten,” you repeat at a more respectable volume. “Hey. I… I missed—”

“Hey,” he responds a little too quickly. Eyes less sharp than usual, he averts his gaze. “I- I need to get home early.”

Ten grabs his bag and leaves the room, his shoulder brushing against yours. You stand there for a few extra moments, breaths shallow and quiet. When you regain the sound of your heartbeat, you leave the practice room, throat dry and a frustrated sigh on your lips. Consequences, every time it’s the consequences biting back.

The crows’ song goes unheard.

act i scene ii.

“So… you want me to get Ten to talk to you?” 

Sicheng looks at you in disbelief, the ice cream in his hand starting to melt. You’ve never met anyone who enjoys ice cream in mid-autumn as much as he does. Sore throats are foreign to him.

You nod, crossing your arms. “I don’t know why he’s avoiding me.”

Sicheng scoffs, choking on the ice cream and taking a few moments to regain his composure. 

“Thanks,” he says when you rub his back in pity. “But… you really don’t know why he’s avoiding you?”

You shake your head. It’s a lie. But the only thing you can think of is the summer he left, when he confessed his feelings and you rejected him after a few seconds of contemplation. You had good reason. You just can’t tell him that. You’re still young and there’s so much to look forward to.

"You obviously have feelings for him!"

"Yeah, anger! Why would he just ignore me like that? We've been friends for, uh…"

"Stop counting, you suck at math."

You punch his shoulder and his ice cream almost falls off. He looks at you with a glare so strong, you have to take a step back.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “I thought we were like any other pair of best friends.”

Sicheng snorts. “Yeah, best friends in love with each other. Didn't you suggest getting married once?”

“As a joke,” you interject, feeling heat on your cheeks. “Actually, do you know how useful a marriage of convenience is? It's got convenience in the name. Think of all the tax benefits.”

Sicheng rolls his eyes. “The way you looked at each other wasn’t a joke—you know what? I’m not going to be the supporting act to your whole romance charade. You figure this out.”

You pout. “So you’re saying you won’t help?”

He shrugs. “Maybe. You won’t know if I did.”

You furrow your eyebrows, groaning in exasperation. This was supposed to be a happy reunion and yet, you’re here moping to a theatre kid, hoping he helps you. You expected Ten to not take it well but right now, you wish you weren’t so blunt. You could have said it nicer.

You’re joking, right? Haha, nice one. Best friends don't fall in love.

Oh, this is all your fault. You knew him better than anyone else. You should’ve known the consequences too—you could scream right now. In your defense, you thought college made him lose a few brain cells. You still have to make it right. 

“Fine. Whatever you might do, better do it soon.”

Sicheng shrugs, turning back to his ice cream and browsing lazily through one of the magazines. He’s supposed to be watching the store—he gets paid for it but he couldn’t care less about this place. Sicheng is something of a theatrical actor too, traveling around and performing with his theatre group. He never cared for Broadway as much as Ten did.

However, you’re all here now. This autumn is going to be spent with your best friends no matter the cost. You smile as you think of the time you and Ten surprised Sicheng with a whole bag of ice cream and he cried although most of it ended up melting. Sicheng raises an eyebrow at your expression but doesn't question.

“There’s a reunion party by the woods,” he announces. “Next week. Saturday. You have to make up before that. You know they’re going to be brutal.”

You shudder. Your classmates certainly won’t let go of the idea of your relationship with Ten. Teasing aside, they’re going to be making either one of you uncomfortable. All your excitement drains itself. Your shoulders slump and you think that perhaps, asking for forgiveness would be a better out. You recover quickly though. This has to work out, Ten has to be your best friend again—what choice do you have? You missed him and you’re going to let him know.

//

The first attempt begins right in the evening. Sicheng texts Ten after his shift, asking him to get some snacks. Lucky for you, you work at the local snack store, also called the convenience store. There’s nowhere better to get snacks. There’s also nowhere else to get snacks.

You stand behind the counter, fiddling with the drawstrings of your hoodie while your eyes trail to the hands of the clock on the wall. Sicheng texted him half an hour ago. Ten might not be the most punctual but you know he listens to Sicheng, even if it’s reluctantly.

Your impatience gets the better of you and you leave the counter to peer out the glass door. Unfortunately, someone pushes open the door right then and you clutch your nose, eyes watering at the painful impact. 

Ten looks petrified for a moment before turning around and leaving. You furrow your eyebrows, tears brimming from the pain in your nose and mixing into the exasperation from getting so bluntly ignored. Come on, Ten. You curse on your way back to the lonely counter. There goes the only thing you were looking forward to this evening. Sicheng walks in a while later, a sour look on his face.

“He actually gave me a mouthful,” he mutters angrily. “Can you believe that? Me. Who’s listened to all his lovesick ramblings about y—theatre.” 

You slump onto the counter further, the bright orange background of the store more headache-inducing than optimistic. 

“God, this is so much more difficult than I expected.”

“What happened between the two of you anyway? I thought you promised to call him every day.”

“I tried, okay? He wouldn’t pick up.”

Sicheng raises an eyebrow. “Woah. Haven’t heard about that one.”

He places the single pack of Lays onto the counter. You get up to pull the chocolate ice cream from the cooler.

“Don’t bother. It’s so depressing getting shut out like this.”

Sicheng mutters something under his breath you don’t quite catch. It’s his complaining voice though, so you don’t question him. 

“He’s going to be at the Bridge tomorrow,” Sicheng notifies. “Something about getting fresh early morning air. Now, there’s no way you can run into him and call it coincidence. So don’t do that.”

You cross your arms. “So what do you suggest I do?”

“I mean, if you’re accompanying Mr. Yang to the dahlia fields for flower shop business… that’s a different story.”

Your eyes brighten and you sit up. “You’re a genius!”

“I’ve been telling you guys since—”

You hug him and he chokes, almost dropping the Lays pack. The door opens and you hurriedly wave at Yangyang, who’s here for the next shift before running out the door in a hurricane of bad decisions and good intentions.

“I hate being the middleman,” Sicheng mutters to Yangyang who offers him a pitiful look. The evening returns to its pink skies and you race your feelings to your destination.

//

“Mr. Yang,” you whine. “You don’t need a single dahlia? I’m offering to help.”

The older man scratches his spotless white beard and looks at you in confusion. “I gathered a whole cartload just three days ago. There’s no way I need more. You know this place—no one buys flowers anymore.”

“I’ll buy them! A whole cartload.”

“And where will you get the money, child?”

“Uh.”

Mr. Yang shakes his head at your immaturity. “If you’re so eager, get me some chrysanthemums from Mrs. Leong’s sh—”

“No. It has to be from the other side of the Bridge,” you interject. 

Mr. Yang is further perplexed but you’re glad he doesn’t ask further. Having to explain your love and friendship troubles to a senior citizen has never been an ideal situation. You make a face at the thought.

“Alright,” he says and takes a few moments to ponder. “You want an errand to run, right? Could you get me some sunflower seeds from Goodwin Park?”

“That far?”

He sighs. “Do you want to go or not?”

You nod reluctantly, checking your phone to see the time. It’s early as fuck and the only person you’d wake up this early for doesn’t even know you’re doing all this.

“It’s to feed the birds, isn’t it?” You raise an eyebrow. 

Mr Yang nods.

“You know, you don’t have to do all that to get Mrs. Leong to notice you.” You offer him a cheeky grin.

“I’m assuming it’s also a person you’re doing all of this for,” he hums in reply.  

You drop your grin and take the errand money, heat rising in your cheeks. Exiting quickly, you check the time again. Ten better not have left early.

Shortcuts are better when there’s someone with you, you decide. You have gained around five long scratches at five different places on your body trying to best the hill beside Maple Street in order to get to the Bridge faster. If Ten were here, he'd laugh at you for being so graceless. 

The Bridge is empty when you arrive and you sigh deeply. You’re not sure if you’re early or he’s late or you’re astronomically late. The grass is still a golden green in colour, for autumn never truly comes in when you’re expecting it. The little stream below the Bridge is almost dried up but the wooden structure stays. You remember Sicheng broke his leg once, trying to catch Ten’s family cat pawing at fish in the stream when it used to be fuller.

You greet Mr. Santello at his garden and buy the sunflower seeds. Your errand is complete but the rising agitation in your chest makes you kick a rock on the way back to the Bridge. This side of the town is bleak except for the garden and the only fun you’ve had here is when a beehive dropped on Yukhei’s head (he poked at it himself with no provocation from your side whatsoever). The scenery is much prettier with someone to appreciate it. You, on the other hand, cannot wait to leave this town. You walk back with certain memories playing in your head, the smell of nostalgia rising with the sun. You’ve always hated early mornings; but you did have fun in them when you had to wake up for school trips. You hold your breath, stopping right before the beginning of the Bridge.

Ten leans against the wooden rails of the Bridge, Starmill Bridge, with eyes gently closed and white earphones plugged in. You smile to yourself. When the sunlight draws across his cheeks, he seems brighter than golden skies and softer than late afternoon clouds. You see the boy from your childhood, messy unbrushed hair and his favourite grey sweater. He’s so full of colour. You wouldn’t mind staring at him for as long as you can.

You take a step and your hoodie catches onto a stray nail, making you stumble onto the wooden floor of the Bridge. You look at your scattered boxes of sunflower seeds with horror but not before finding Ten plucking out his earphone to look at you. He’s so pretty even in a daze.

“Hi?” you offer. “I was on an errand, promise. Not stalking you and trying to get you to talk to me or anything. Hah.”

Ten shakes his head at you and quietly stares for a few more moments.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” he answers finally. “Stop trying.”

You look at him with a flickering guilt though you’re not sure why. He sighs and walks toward you, frowning. He takes out the cloth of your hoodie stuck in the nail with tentative care. Gathering the boxes of sunflower seeds scattered on the floor, he glances at you once before getting up.

You grab his hand before he can walk away again. 

“Ten,” you say, your voice coming off more pitiful than you would like. 

He turns back at you with lips pursed and a sorrowful look in his eyes. 

“Sorry,” he whispers. “I need to work some things out.”

Ten leaves you hanging for a third time in your life and you pull yourself together enough to stand up. You can’t imagine—you don’t want to imagine how much longer this’ll go on. Ten used to be an amenable boy; it shouldn’t be taking this long.

Somewhere the wind comes tumbling in, whispering the words that everything has changed and everything is still changing.

//

The third and last attempt is outside his house. Ten’s mother is bound to notice you at some point, right? Considering you’re camping out like a homeless man from the nearby gas station, that is. You hope she’s out for grocery shopping and you can just pretend you were on your way home and ‘accidentally’ bumped into her. Being the kind soul she is, she’s going to invite you to dinner since it’s late already. And where else can you spend your time while she cooks but in Ten’s room? It’s perfect and there’s no way he can avoid this.

“(name)!” Ten’s sister yells in glee. 

“Tern!” You smile at her.

“Mom’s sending me for grocery shopping. Do you wanna come help?”

You want to go inside the house but patience is quite possibly a virtue. You haven’t tried it out yet. 

“Sure.” You grin. “I’ve got time to kill.”

So, you are aware that Ten’s sister tends to shoot off at the mouth with the right person but you somehow cannot get her to talk about Ten. Apart from his life in New York, that is, which you had hoped to hear from him. 

“So… how come you’re not in our house already? No offense, it’s just you and Ten… you know.” She looks at you with an inquisitive quirk of her eyebrow. 

Ten must be a really good actor. Not like you ever doubted him but for his sister to be so blissfully unaware, he must have put on quite the show. Either that, or he really has forgotten you. You try not to feed fire to that thought.

“Uh, you know, been busy with the snack shack. We’re redecorating. Mr. Kim is going to boil me alive if I slack off.”

She giggles at your expression. “I heard it from Yangyang. He said the redecorations are ugly though.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Ten let you talk to Yangyang? A boy?”

She crosses her arms with a disbelieving laugh. “He can’t tell me how to live. Besides, he doesn’t care.”

You laugh. “Right. You have no idea how overprotective he can actually be. Older brother instincts or whatever.”

She suppresses a laugh. “And you must be facing the boyfriend instincts.”

You stammer out a response but it doesn’t make any sense. It’s alright to get laughed at, you suppose, if Tern is in fits beside you.

The rest of the conversation is about things less important. It would be rude to not engage though so you talk with enthusiasm all the way back. Part of you sees Ten in his sister. How terrible of you to see someone else in a person right beside you.

“(name)!” 

Ten’s mother looks pleasantly surprised. 

“Good evening, ma’am!” You curtsy in an exaggerated manner, and she laughs, patting your arm. 

“How come it took you so long to visit? You hardly ever came over these few years, and I’m a little upset about that by the way, but I thought for sure, you’d be in the house the day Ten came back.”

You scratch the back of your head sheepishly. “You know. Work and stuff. Mr Kim is redecorating the store.”

She exhales in annoyance. “Is that man exploiting you children again?”

“I’m—uh… I’m an adult—”

“Hush,” she instructs, voice strict and you zip your mouth immediately. Never question a mother’s statement.

“Ten’s in his room, by the way. Should I call him?” she asks, after a minute of complaining about Mr. Kim, which you would have loved to join but there are other matters at hand. She has all the gossip in town and yet, she’s somehow blissfully unaware of the silence between her son and his best friend. Are you not as important? It makes you pout but you quickly neutralize your expression.

“Ten!” she shouts when you don’t respond, a little lost in your own thoughts.

“Uh—oh no, you don’t have to do that!” you say quickly. “I’ll just go to his room.”

You hurry up the stairs, just in time for Ten to open his bedroom door and jump back in fright.

“Oh my fucking god,” he mutters, like the soul has been kicked straight out of his body. In any other situation, you would’ve loved to give him a scare.

You walk into the bedroom and lock the door behind you. 

“Ten. We need to talk.”

“I don’t wanna talk,” he says, furrowing his eyebrows. You notice the change in his features—his hair has grown out, his face is more chiseled and he has an angry quirk to his brows. “I told you I need some space. You never know how to listen, fuck.”

His voice is a low whisper, in the short space between you. You don’t move from your spot, with your back against the wall and feet nervous. You shift from foot to foot and look him in the eye before looking away. You’ve never felt this way around him. You’ve never actually pissed him off this bad. You don’t know what to do.

“Just leave. God. I can’t believe you think you can just walk in!”

You frown at his words. “Ten. I just wanted to talk to you again. We’re friends—”

“How does it matter if we are? Everything’s changed. This whole place has changed. I’ve changed.” 

“But… that doesn’t mean we have to pretend we’re strangers—”

“Leave. Please.”

His voice is so low and odd that you don’t recognize it anymore. You sigh. You can’t convince him when he’s so defensive. You open the door to his bedroom to find Ten’s mom and sister in the hallway trying very hard to pretend they weren’t eavesdropping. You offer them a sad smile and thank his mother for the dinner before taking your leave. You feel too ridiculous to cry.

How do people put in all that effort in romantic comedies? You don't even know where to start. Maybe you should follow the King's advice from Alice in Wonderland. 

Begin at the beginning and go on until you come to the end; then stop.

No. No, you can't be thinking of ending scenes right now. There's a much bigger problem at hand. Saturday. You better brace yourself for the unpredictability of former prom queens and class presidents, and the predictability of this small town that never changes. 

act i scene iii.

High school reunion parties here aren’t exactly mawkish affairs. There’s alcohol, people who are meant to be adults but haven’t quite grown into it yet, the looming woods, and more alcohol. There's no room for sentimentalism when your former classmates, seniors and juniors—those who could be here, at least—are back together and it feels like nothing has changed at all. However, college-age boys always pose problems. 

“Look, if Johnny can do it, so can I,” Yukhei tells you. 

Johnny smacks his shoulder encouragingly, and a few of your friends giggle at the two lanky men, looking like they’ve discovered something priceless beside the campfire light.

“This beer tastes like crap,” you mutter before returning to a regular volume. “But go ahead and try chugging two bottles in under a minute if you want.”

Your backhanded statement backfires almost immediately because he does exactly as you said. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you try not to peek at Ten, sitting beside Johnny and looking rather sleepy. It’s the bedhead, you think to yourself. It’s cute.

“Alright, who’s next?” Yukhei asks, voice booming enthusiastically. 

Yeri sighs beside you, tired from the late night and not so much from the alcohol. Speaking of which, the alcohol table is somehow still stocked and Sicheng stands beside it, looking sour from being forced into guard duty. 

“Tell him to pipe down,” Yeri mutters, pressing her forehead against your shoulder and you look at her apologetically. 

“(name) hasn’t answered anything yet!” Sooyoung pipes up and you shoot her a look she ignores. “Neither has Ten, by the way.”

A bunch of “ooh”s pass through the crowd of roughly twenty people, and you would bury your face in your hands were it not for that stubborn pride of yours. 

Truth or dare is quite possibly the worst game in the history of mankind. Ten looks somewhat flustered under the attention but he just sighs. 

“Get it over with.” He looks at Yukhei expectantly.

“Kiss (name)!”

Your heart drops and you glare at Yukhei. You should have expected it. There is no one more unimaginative than drunk boys. His cheeks are flushed when he grins at you, encouraging you with a thumbs up gesture. 

“He doesn’t have to do that.” You cross your arms. “Consent is important even in fun and games.”

The sentence is so didactic of you but you hope the seriousness in your voice makes him back off.

“But you guys are, like, in love with each other,” Yangyang blurts before covering mouth as if he said something scandalous.

A bunch of chuckles follow, though Johnny shows some concern towards Ten. You remember why you hate high school reunions now. Apart from the fact that almost everyone gets to tell their stories of big cities and big dreams they get to live in, everyone turns into a child again when at a reunion. Perhaps it’s the burst of memories or the vivid glow of old connections returning but you can’t stand childishness. Even if you’re the one to act like a child sometimes.

“I’m gonna go drink,” you say. “That’s the punishment, right? I’m not playing anymore.”

Yukhei groans. “Come on, (name). You wouldn’t be such a bore.”

“I would,” you snap and get up from your seat, Yeri muttering in annoyance before leaning onto Sooyoung’s shoulder.

Ten is glowing in the cheeks, you find when you look at him. He meets your eyes once and looks away, playing with his fingers. 

You pour yourself some beer into a cup and lift it up to show to Yukhei before striding off to a place farther than the warmth of people and the campfire. The giant log is a nice enough seat by the edge of the woods. It is cold and mossy though, and you hug yourself, sticking your hands into the pockets of your cardigan.

The sound of footsteps over dried leaves catch your attention and you look up. Ten takes a seat beside you in silence. You move the cup of beer so that it doesn’t spill from any sudden movement. It’s quiet for even longer, your pulse the only rhythm to follow.

"Ten." You smile, looking away from him and into the ceaseless stretch of woods. He hums in response, as though a habit yet to get rid of. It makes you bite down your lip to prevent the smile from turning into something sadder.

You miss him. You miss the years you spent with him. You're drawn into him, into something old, familiar and safe. 

No one can save you when you’re homesick. 

However, you do not give up easily. What is broken can be mended with enough love and care.

Ten sighs, taking the cup from you right before it touches your lips. "Don't drink that. You hate the taste and it makes you go crazy."

You pout, but can't really find something snarky enough to say. Not when he looks like that—with dry, still-red lips and tired, apologetic eyes.

“Your forehead is so oily,” you mutter.

Ten looks at you, furrowing his eyebrows. He proceeds to hesitantly wipe at his forehead with the sleeve of his sweatshirt before shaking himself out of it. Instead he just glares at you.

“It’s not oilier than your nose,” he shoots, annoyed. 

“At least my nose isn’t titan-sized.”

“My nose is perfect. Do you- do you know how many people fall in love with my perfect nose every day?”

You laugh, covering your face. His features soften and he returns his gaze to the comfort of the endless forest. It does have an end, at the fences by the railway tracks but in believing that something can be infinite, you find comfort. 

"New York treated you well. Too well. But then again, you were always a narcissist."

You smile smugly at him and he gives you an unamused look.

"I'm… I'm glad we're talking," you offer after a few moments of unacknowledged silence.

He tenses ever so slightly, running a hand through his already messy hair and looks at you. He looks away again as if in an internal debate.

“You rejected me, (name),” he says, exasperated. “How do I recover from that? Don’t answer. It was so embarrassing.”

You close your mouth. If only you could tell him the truth. You had to reject him or your sentimental boy would never leave for acting opportunities. He doesn’t have to know that. You’re fine with loving him quietly. You’re fine with loving him quietly.

But the truth is, it’s too scary to think about. You’ve been refusing to look at your feelings for a long time now. It’s only a cliche; it doesn't happen in real life. You’re too good of friends to be in love. Isn’t that right? It certainly couldn't have been you to fall in love with Ten. There were a million other people to do that in your stead. You feel shy all of a sudden.

“That was pretty embarrassing,” you mumble, pressing down your smile and he rolls his eyes.

After a few moments in silence, a sigh escapes his lips. “I’ve had enough time for closure though. I can’t believe I actually said that. Oh, the over-sentimentalism. Yikes.”

He makes a disgusted face.

You giggle. “I can’t believe it either. You do look cute blushing, by the way. You find any lover in the big, scary city? Any rebound?” 

Ten rolls his eyes. “Too busy. And are you going to tease me forever about this thing?”

You laugh. “That’s the Ten I know. You’re always working. Sometimes you should have fun.” 

“I have plenty of fun. You’re the one that used to cry at birthday parties.”

“I was six years old and it was one time, holy shit.”

The two of you break into laughter. The cold makes you draw nearer to him.

“Hey, wanna go to the mall this weekend?” you suggest.

“Wait, it’s still there? Wasn’t it supposed to get knocked down?”

“Yeah but the townsfolk didn’t want that so they delayed it. There’s, like, barely any employees though. It’s like a ghost mansion at night.”

Ten makes a face. “The afternoons there were so bright, like, there was so much sunlight, remember? I remember you always drinking my banana milk at the food plaza.”

You laugh. “I miss skipping class to go there. Now there aren’t any classes to skip.”

“Oh my god, remember when Mr. Wilson actually caught us?”

You laugh louder. “We had to pretend we weren’t his students. Which was futile acting because he knows every student.” 

Ten sighs. 

“I missed you. God, I’m so fucking sorry—I was in over my head. I thought I ruined everything.”

“Hey.” You scoot closer, wrapping your arms around him. “I missed you too. Besides, it’s not you if you’re not being a bit of a drama queen.”

Ten elbows you in the side at the comment and you yelp, moving away and glaring at him in response. 

“Just because I’m in theatre doesn’t mean I’m a drama queen.” He mocks the tone of your voice and you giggle.

“So any special Broadway stories you have in mind? I wanna hear something funny.” You rest your head on his shoulder comfortably.

"Well, one time this actress' dress caught on fire—"

"That's not funny, that's horrifying."

Ten purses his lips. “Okay. Uh… I got told to fuck off by an eighty year old man in drag after I threw raw steak at his window?”

You snort, eyes widening and Ten throws up his hands in exasperation. "How is that remotely funny?"

"I'm pretty sure that's as funny as it gets with you."

"I can't believe you're pretending I didn't carry our sense of humour on my back for all of middle school and high school."

“I missed you," you say quietly, and he flusters, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

"Really? You're not just saying that?"

You sigh, inching closer. "Yes. I did miss you, you know? I called."

"And I didn't pick up. I know. I'm sorry."

"I think you've apologized to me more times now than you have in our first twenty years of friendship."

Ten rolls his eyes. "And I mean it. It's not the 'sorry I ate your cookies' apology."

"I fucking knew you were the one eating stuff from my bag back in high school."

Ten presses his lips, making a zipping motion and you push him in exasperation. The two of you laugh, loud and clear, before Johnny's voice comes in, telling the two of you to "stop fooling around near the woods" and that it's "unhygienic".

Seasons change but people don't. You walk home with Ten for the first time in a year and suddenly, you’re in love with the idea that things can just lie in complete peace once they fall back into what was always meant to be. Perhaps it’s the writer’s utopia, but you think it’s much more meaningful this way. Ten's hoodie smells just like home.

prologue.

It was a sunlit morning when you first met Ten, but it was only a sunlit morning. There were no birds chirping or faceless adults on that sidewalk or even your friends because you don’t recall them. You recall a child with two very important teeth missing and your sudden urge to run to his side. You’d pulled his cheek with a huge grin on your face because, and you still stand by this, they were too cute and plump and red to resist.

You were three and a half years old when you met Ten and you parted when you were twenty. One year later, you're back to linking arms, joking about each other and talking about life as though it's a passing stream. 

You were six years old when you cried at Ten's birthday party because no one was talking to him. It gave you an evening's worth of attention and a huge smile on Ten's face. You still think kids are mean as hell but they care for things like they have never cared before. 

You were eleven years old when you started to lose a little bit of touch with yourself. You talked less, you looked at people more. Ten's face was still the most comforting out of all. He said he liked to listen no matter how annoying you sound. Somehow, by the time sixth grade was over, when you were almost twelve—you talked at least twice as much. 

You were fourteen years old when you dated a boy out of curiosity and left on an awkward note when he moved away. You weren't sad for some reason. The idea of life passing meaninglessly by was engraved into you, like the waves that carve the beach. Ten was distant the whole time, with a scowl and more sarcastic remarks than usual, only warming up when you showed up at his door with a homemade cake. It tasted horrible and had the texture of a mossy pebble but you laughed over it anyway. Suddenly, life wasn't meandering but a river full of vigor in spring, beside a garden of fresh crested irises. 

You were sixteen when you were pushed to audition in a play by your best friend. The play was about life and death and love, and it didn’t make sense to you the way it did to him. You had good fun backstage with the costumes and the makeup, and it was all that mattered to you. However, some part of you didn't like it, hated it even when he kissed the female lead of the play with eyes full of adoration. You looked on as Villager B and you hated every part of it.

When you were eighteen turning nineteen, you decided to save up for college. It would take time—years perhaps but you would get there. You would get an apartment with Ten in New York City or any city full of bustling, busy life and you would tend to your rooftop garden. Small town dreams, however, die and they die and they’re buried in unloved, unplanted soil. 

You finally understood what your tenth grade English teacher meant when she said everything is theatre. 

The night he left, you had a nightmare. It was a play and you were the protagonist. You couldn’t make it in time for the night of the performance, anxious and afraid as you arrived. You’d been replaced. You hated to see him on stage with someone else. You hated it. You hated it. You hated it so much. 

Of course, you knew it would be a showstopper the moment that fight broke out between you and your replacement. You were cruel in that dream—almost as if you were someone else. But you felt comfortable in that skin, like you were meant to play that part after all. As if you were the villain all along and not the sweetheart of the show. You felt comfortable and it scared you so much that you woke in cold sweat and cried for an hour straight.

It hurt how lonely you felt. It hurt without Ten and you hate that you let him go. Something took shape inside the cavity of your chest, the shape of a weed sprouting in the pulsing garden of life—you won’t make the same mistake again. You’re going to hold on with all your might, till your hands ache and till your heart has had enough. 

ACT II: YOUTH 

 act ii scene i.

“Have you ever actually shoplifted in your life?”

“Oh, shut up.”

Ten tries to suppress his smile and fails, moving so that his back covers you from view instead. A conversation about New York subways led to a conversation about anarchy which led to… this. You’ve been trying to swipe the butterfly pin from the display for the past half an hour. You weren’t actually going to steal it—you just need to prove you can.

The mall is always eerily empty. It shouldn’t be this big of a hassle. Ah yes, apart from the fact that the souvenir shop has stationed the most number of employees for some goddamn reason. You’re not even sure why it’s there; a souvenir shop for your town might as well be a forgotten relic.

“What? No,” he says quickly. “I’m not doing that. Causing trouble is your thing.”

You snort. “Right. Because everything we got into trouble for was done completely by me.”

“That’s actually true.”

You elbow him, giving him your most offended look.

“You can’t be serious about never causing trouble. You broke Mrs. Leung’s famous ruler, remember? And you always stole your mom’s Halloween cupcakes. Those were for all of the theatre crew, by the way.”

“That doesn’t sound right, darling.”

When you look up at him with eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, you find him smiling in somewhat tranquil thought. It has been rather long. 

“Yeah, I helped you way too much,” you respond, distastefully. 

The two of you straighten at the cashier’s call. Responding that everything’s fine, Ten turns to you with a pointed look.

“If you’re going to do it, better do it before she gets suspicious.”

The hint in his eyes reminds you that he is indeed the devil you know, and you quickly pocket the little butterfly hairpin. This is not ethical in any way and even so, you feel the childish exhilaration. This is to prove a point to your dear friend.

“See?” you whisper to him, exiting the shop. “I could totally pull this off.”

“Not if I start screaming ‘thief!’”

“Did you ever get to play a villain at Broadway? It’s closest to your personality,” you jab.

He sends you a sardonic smile before sticking his tongue out. You should always beware a childish man and his childish smile. You never know if he’ll take you seriously. Ten is the absolute worst and you love him all the more for it.

“Are you actually not gonna pay for it?” he asks, tilting his head. 

“And let all those proceeds go to our corrupt overlord mayor? Nuh-uh.”

Ten laughs. “We should go vandalize his campaign posters again.”

The mayor has had, you don’t know how many, little scandals accusing him of embezzlement and every time, he’s escaped easy as pie. All the things you can do with money and you decide to hoard more money; you will never understand people like him. Besides, you won’t have to worry about that any time soon.

“See? You’re the troublemaker. I can’t even vandalize good enough.”

“It’s not my fault you have zero artistic talent.”

You place your hands on your hips. “I’m sorry? I’m pretty sure I taught you how to paint.”

Ten rolls his eyes, a sneaky smile on his lips. “Yeah. You taught the whole class how to paint when you smacked Mr. Cheng with that paintbrush.”

You can’t help the laugh that comes to you, despite trying your best to hold a serious expression.

“You’re a disaster,” he adds, staring incredulously at your fit of laughter. 

You look at him and start laughing again.

“Oh my god, what’s so funny? I wasn’t even trying to be funny.”

“Okay, emo boy,” you say, finally straightening and messing his hair.

“I was going to get a haircut.”

“Don’t. You look pretty.”

Ten hums, raising an eyebrow. “But I wanna look hot.”

“That’s going to take a lot of effort.”

Ten grabs you in a chokehold, messing your hair with his hands in the most obnoxious way possible. Finally able to loosen his grip on you, you look at him with your most fearsome glare. He has to stop treating you so gracelessly.

It’s not unusual for him to behave this way; in fact, you welcome it when he’s warm and much lovelier than the usual. But something feels amiss, something dangerous like the passage of time. 

“Ten?”

“Yes?”

“I thought you’d be talking much more about New York instead of our boring old town.”

He hums, eyes scanning the vicinity of the mall’s first floor. There’s an ice cream shop opposite to the souvenir shop, unvisited due its lack of variety in flavours, and a spacious marble floor with most of the shops closed for renovation. The other two floors are closed off completely but you’re sure that with enough effort, you could sneak in. The glass ceiling at the centre allows for sunlight to wash in as gentle waves, settling on your heads like golden crowns. There are little potted plants lining the walls to make the mall space look less dilapidated but it gives off the same effect as that of something abandoned, left alone and waiting. 

“You want me to brag about it?” He addresses you with a slightly cocky grin.

You roll your eyes. “Never mind.”

The mayor wanted to turn this place into some sort of religious campus but you detest the idea of that man getting his way. He’s the very same man to reprimand little girls for their outfits and to say “dancing is not manly” so you do owe his nauseating sexism for your distaste for him. That, and he has absolutely no sense of aesthetics. You would die before you let him remove the gardens or the livelier buildings blessed with the only colours you can bear to look at. 

“Hey, (name)?”

“Yeah?”

“I think Angry Cashier is making her way towards you.”

You snap your head to the souvenir shop and the cashier is indeed eyeing you suspiciously. You reach to pat your pocket but you’re stopped by Ten.

“You are, by far, the stupidest thief I’ve ever known.”

You puff your cheeks in annoyance, crossing your arms instead. Just when you think the cashier is going to call you out, the two of you sprint over to the mall exit with a plausible enough speed.

“We didn’t have to run, you know?” Ten complains as soon as you’re out and a street or two away. 

“What’s the fun in committing a crime if we don’t get to run?”

“I don’t know, it could be a brain exercise—oh wait. You don’t have one.”

You stick your tongue out at him, walking faster to get away from him.

“Hey!”

He jogs up to you, eyebrows furrowed and ready to spit some sass at you, no doubt.

“I thought you’d be more athletic. Dancing and all.”

“Yeah, no.”

You fix the hair in front of his eyes as he leans over on his knees, a look in his eyes as though caught off guard. They’re a lovely shade of honey, his eyes. They look at you with emotions you can't quite fathom and with the innocence of a love borne between friends who have been forced to endure the mediocrity of this town together. It’s a good reason, you believe, to be friends. Friends are meant to help each other, to save each other and to be there at the lowest. You can check all the boxes. It might have been a while but you’re friends and friends that grow up together stay together. The idea is naive but you cannot possibly look into a future without Ten. There must be a reason behind everything that is given to you. Even right now, as the silence starts to nip at you, you believe you were meant to make full circle. Fate is a funny thing and you wouldn’t believe in it ever, even for a surprise twenty dollar bill vending machine miracle, but it’s comforting enough to let settle on the two of you. 

The lead actors go hand in hand.

“Are you going to keep staring at me? I know I’m tragically beautiful—”

“No, you’re beautifully tragic. Your face, that is.”

“I stopped listening after beautiful, so I believe you agreed with me there.”

You roll your eyes. 

“You and your unyielding confidence can go fuck itself. I’ve seen you cry over a cat movie.”

Ten sputters out a response. “But- but Garfield saved that dog despite every fiber of his being telling him not to. He could’ve lived a happy, peaceful life but he saved him. How is that not incredibly touching?”

“You’re weird. Garfield’s cute though.”

“Like me.”

You wrinkle your nose. “What are we, twelve?”

“I was having my rebellious punk phase then, so no. I would never have said that when I was twelve.”

You laugh. “God, you looked so funny back then.”

“I thought we agreed to not bring up stuff from our teenage years.”

You press your lips together in an attempt to stop the laugh but a tiny giggle comes out anyway. The sun is going to set in an hour. You better make use of your time.

“Ready to go vandalize some posters?” you ask, grinning.

“You know what? I have a better idea. We should go pick some flowers.”

You blink at him. “That’s not remotely punk or rebellious.”

“Shh. You like picking flowers. Remember how we used to joke you should be hired at weddings instead of the flower girls?”

You make a face. “Why on earth would I fling flowers in the air at weddings? That’s not even a respectable job.”

“It suits you.”

“We should be kinder to our arboreal friends.” You cross your arms. “I’d rather tend to a garden than pick flowers for stupid occasions.”

“Tree-hugger.”

You pull up your middle finger and he laughs, fixing his hair right back into the messy waves.

“Why do you hate weddings?” he asks all of a sudden.

“Oh, you know. Icky stuff.”

“No one’s having sex at the wedding.”

“That’s not what I meant by icky stuff. It’s that gross feeling in the air. What’s it called?”

“Love?”

“Please, there’s hardly any love at weddings. It’s all pretend.”

Ten rolls his eyes, chuckling. “You think all the brides and bridegrooms in the world are pretending at their own weddings?”

“If you say it like that…” You grumble. “I don’t believe you need to celebrate love, that’s all. It’s always there, you know?”

You look up to see Ten pressing his fist to his mouth to keep himself from laughing and scoff in disbelief.

“What’s so funny? Seriously, stop laughing—oh for fuck’s sake.”

Soon enough, Ten is crouching by the sidewalk in a fit of laughter which causes a hot flush rising over your neck. You weren’t trying to be cheesy. Now, your best friend is hellbent on making you feel embarrassed. 

“It wasn’t that cringe. Come on. Get up, asshole.”

“You were- you were just so—” He takes a moment to catch his breath, a few short laughs erupting from him nonetheless. “You looked so serious when you said that.”

Your face is hot enough for you to look away now. “Whatever,” you mumble.

“It was cute. You looked really cute,” he continues, somewhat sobered up. “And brave. You always say things with so much confidence that it’s brave. I’m glad you are the way you are.”

You look at him, slightly dazed before your cheeks puff up to prevent yourself from laughing.

“I regret saying that. You are the big, hideous regret of my life.”

“I thought I was cute?” Your snickers turn into laughter again.

“Fuck off.”

“Thanks, Ten. You’re really good to me.”

Ten shakes his head before walking away, leaving you to call after him in phrases of ‘wait up!’ and ‘when did you get so fast?’ as you try to catch up. You sometimes wonder if he likes being chased. You reach the busiest crossing in this town, with about four cars waiting at the stop sign. You’re not sure why anyone follows the traffic rules if there isn’t even any traffic.

Looking up, you gasp at the moon peeking over a still young sky. You're suddenly reminded of those afternoon naps you had in Ten’s room, the both of you fascinated by the idea of waking up and seeing the sky a whole different colour. The idea that time changes everything was still fresh in your minds then, the impact gentle if not loving. It’s quite late you found that time can steal just as much as it gives.

“Remember when we dyed your hair red?”

“I will, and I shit you not, physically assault you for saying anything about that.”

You laugh at the memory of his awkward hairdo. “No, the other time. When we were seventeen.”

“Oh yeah, I received like eight love letters for that.”

“No, you didn’t.”

He did look pretty, and just in time for Valentine’s day’s theme of red roses and nauseating pink hearts.

“I have proof.” Ten leans his elbow against the street lamp, missing it completely and stumbling backwards till he regains his balance. He gives you an impish smile, running a hand through his hair and breathing out. 

You roll your eyes, ignoring his words. “I think we never took pictures of that.”

“So… what are you suggesting?”

“One good picture,” you answer, pulling out your phone and taking a picture of him off guard. Looking at it, you pout. It’s so unfair that he gets to look nice even in a hazy evening picture. 

Ten rolls his eyes, snatching your phone. “Let me show you how to take good pictures. Not whatever crap you have going on.”

You cross your arms, huffing but agree nonetheless when he forces you to pose by the street light. He blabbers on something about composition and colours that goes straight over your head but you can’t deny that the picture came out ridiculously well. You might have to change all your socials with a new profile picture.

“See? You can thank me with a kiss,” he says, a cheeky smile across his face.

You press your lips to his cheek in a swift motion, a smack sound resounding from it. It was uncalled for, you think, because Ten freezes for a few seconds in an uncharacteristic manner. He shakes his head, a scream dying in his throat before turning to you with the most scandalized look.

“Oh my god, what did you do that for?” he says, rubbing at his cheek in a teasing manner.

You wrap your arms around him, furthering his protests although he ends up smiling wide. “You asked for it, honey.”

“Nicknames are my thing. Stop trying to copy me, it’s embarrassing.”

"Okay, now let's take a picture together," you suggest pulling him closer.

He clicks his tongue and takes the phone from you, and when his hand rests upon the small of your back, you try to freeze up. His face is near yours, not unlike the usual but you feel your heartbeat hike up. It's a strange feeling.

"Now, can we go home?" Ten asks, handing you your phone. "I can't believe your background is rilakkuma."

"I'll change it," you respond, voice strangely quiet. You're only half smiling but Ten's smile is full and bright, eyes honey-pure. "To us."

Ten hums in satisfaction and offers his hand like a gentleman from another century, something you tend to exaggerate and you take it with a laugh. The two of you walk with entangled arms and playful skips over the pavement, getting the same old looks from passersby as you did as children and teenagers. The traffic lights glow a gentle hue below the mature blue evening sky, fading easily. You realize as gently as waves lapping at the shore that you missed Ten so bad it still hurts in the hole he left. 

act ii scene ii.

Any weekend in a boring little town of flowers starts with the news of parties. It used to be Johnny sending invites but now it’s mostly just Yukhei calling people for impromptu college parties. Now, you are aware that college parties are horrendous in every shape and form; you are also aware that the two hour car ride to the city college isn’t safe. But it’s easy to ignore hackneyed advice to stay away from parties and alcohol and weed when you’re young and have a ridiculously large group of friends.

The drive isn’t the worst part. At least the drive to the party isn’t; the drive back is usually too hazed to be memorable. Sicheng’s driving this time and with a lot of grumbling but he gets enough pitiful pats to the back and cheek to stop it. Ten has his feet up on the dashboard, having called shotgun before you by one fucking second. You’re stuck with Sooyoung and Johnny in the backseat, sandwiched uncomfortably at that, but you lean forward enough to nag Ten the whole time.

“(name),” Sooyoung calls in a sing-song voice. “Your overly affectionate looks for Ten are showing and it’s not even eleven yet.”

You furrow your eyebrows, stammering out a response and regretting it immediately. “You’re- You’ve been teasing me about this forever.”

“No, she’s right,” Johnny joins in. “Come on, there isn’t even alcohol involved. Yet.”

You roll your eyes, shrinking into yourself as the two of them laugh on either side of you. Sicheng says something along the lines of ‘nauseating’ and ‘idiotic’ but he gets an elbow jab from Ten.

“I’m driving,” he hisses.

“Into every sidewalk we come across?” Ten shoots back.

Another bout of laughter rings through, and this time you can smile too. It’s not that you’re particularly bothered by the teasing; it’s just uncharted territories you have no desire to chart. You always thought you’d meet Prince Charming on a balcony in a summer evening, and this is optional, but it should happen with ‘Love Story’ by Taylor Swift playing in the background. It’s quite inane to assume it would be your best friend, whom you have spent countless summer evenings listening to old Taylor Swift songs with.

Before you were aware of college house parties, you thought things like these would be more of a less-people-more-booze sort of situation. Turns out, the alcohol to people ratio is nearly the same. Stumbling out of the entrance to the frat house, Yukhei greets the lot of you with a dazed smile before promptly throwing up into the bushes. Rolling your eyes, you pat his back while Sooyoung gets some water from her purse.

“How many drinks was it this time, Yukhei?” Ten teases. “Half? Three-quarters? No wait, that’s a stretch.”

“Very funny,” Yukhei mutters, somehow still upbeat despite his continuous retching. “I bet you’d be drunk after a shot of whatever the hell I had too.”

Adjusting his jacket, Ten narrows his eyes at Yukhei with an incredulous look. “Okay, you’re on. Let’s go.”

Sicheng raises his hands alarmed, but Ten has disappeared into the swarms of people before any sound can leave him.

“He was supposed to drive on the way back,” Sicheng complains. He opens his mouth in sudden realization and then turns to you. You look from him to Johnny and Sooyoung who share a look and walk briskly into the party with a thumbs-up gesture.

“Oh. Oh no,” you say.

“No, yes,” Sicheng responds.

You shake your head and laugh before sprinting inside, Sicheng’s yells of protest fading out.

Yukhei wasn’t kidding when he said his frat hosts the craziest parties. There’s far too many people here, at least far too many for Ten to have fun. You like the energy of the crowd though, all in their own zones and dancing to old party pop songs. The smell of alcohol hits you so strong at first that you have to take a breather in the little garden space they have. It’s more of an overgrown shrubbery instead of a garden but any green will do. Walking back in, you feel much more comfortable when you take a shot of vodka from a girl passed out on the couch. Laughing, you look around for familiar faces. Parties, however, are not the place to look for faces at all. You think you just spotted a fur neck warmer tied around a dude’s waist while he performs some Neanderthal variant of belly dancing.

You bump into a guy of fairly tall stature, a polite apology tumbling from his lips.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you chuckle in amusement. “You’re not a party kind of guy, are you?”

He stares at you with a placid expression, intrigued. “And how would you know?”

“First, you’re not drunk. Two, you look grossed out by those dudes on the bar table. Three, you’re making conversation with me instead of dancing.”

“So you’re saying I can’t make conversation and dance at the same time.”

“I’m sorry, Mister, but you look like you’d rather not dance at all.”

He laughs. “That’s your way of saying I have a stick up my ass, isn’t it?”

You shrug, giving him your friendliest smile. “I prefer talking to drinking too. What’s your name? I need to know the name of the only sober guy in here.”

“Doyoung,” he answers. “Something tells me you’re not going to give me the same pleasure of knowing your name.”

You smile, pressing your index finger to your lips. “Names at parties are better left unknown.”

Something about him is inherently attractive, and you find yourself drawing nearer. Perhaps you could have a more fun night this way. “It’s much more fun to guess. Now, I’m guessing your party-loving best friend dragged you in here so you could get laid.”

He sighs, smiling at you. “I’m actually part of the frat.”

You gasp, hand covering your mouth. “No way.”

“Someone sober has to oversee whatever the hell’s going on here.” He shrugs. “Now, and this isn’t a guess, but you’re not from our college.”

“Nope. I’m from that little flower town nearby.” 

“Ah, I heard there’s a lovely dahlia field there.”

You nod. “And me. Just as lovely.”

You bite your tongue. That was certainly not sexy enough flirting. Ten has been rubbing off on you with his lame comebacks. Doyoung, however, laughs really loud at that. He must have a worse sense of humour than you thought.

You turn sharply at the sound of your name. Ten seems to be waving at you from a table of beer pong, looking rather distressed. You wave back with a bothered look on your face, aggressively signaling for him to handle his shit alone. He pouts and signals more desperately for you to come. Sighing, you turn to Doyoung.

“Sorry,” you say. “My friend seems to be in a pinch. Either that or he’s attention starved again in a record time of eight minutes.”

Doyoung laughs. “I liked talking to you.”

“I liked talking to you too, plot twist.”

“Is that what you’re calling me now?” Doyoung smiles at you. "Ah, I tend to forget but someone always comes along and shows me how friendships are made."

With one last smile, you leave him and walk halfway through to Ten before realizing you forgot to ask for Doyoung’s number. It’s too late to turn back now for the crowd blocks your version and you begrudgingly make your way to Ten. So much for your fun night.

“What was so important that you had to pull me away from the only attractive dude in this party?” you say, crossing your arms.

“Who, Doyoung?” he asks. “I’m at least six times hotter. And anyway, help me win this.”

You roll your eyes. If Ten knows Doyoung, you can somehow finagle your way into getting his number.

“I suck at this game,” Ten mutters. “How the hell is it supposed to hit its mark when the cup is so far away?”

“You have shitty aim,” you say, taking the ping pong ball and throwing it right into the cup. Smirking at the dude who’s already wasted on the other side, you turn back to Ten.

“That’s how you play.”

“Maybe you just have magic hands. Kiss my balls for good luck—wait, fuck, I didn’t mean that.”

You throw your head back and laugh at the disgusted look on his face. Sometimes Ten forgets to think before he opens his mouth and it might be surprising, but he does think before most things he says. He’s always been careful in the subtlest ways.

“I hate this game,” Ten says after missing the cup again. 

“Let me teach you,” you say, moving behind him and taking his hand holding the ball. He stiffens before letting you guide the angle of projection as you throw. It lands right in despite the wobbly beginning and you grin at him.

“I’m so done with this party,” he whispers, hands on his hips and stretching much like a cat after a nap.

You giggle. “I didn’t drink enough to forget everything that’s ever hurt me though.”

“You’re hurt?” he asks, before clearing his throat. “If you wanna stay, I’ll stay too.”

“I’m not a child, you know?” you say, smiling incredulously. “I don’t need you babysitting me.”

“I don’t need you talking to any more Doyoungs. You know his body count?”

“That guy?” you ask, jaw dropping.

“It’s not that much actually,” Ten continues, smiling deviously. “More than what you expect from a guy in law though. You can shut your jaw.”

You huff. “How do you know though? Did you sleep with him?”

Ten wrinkles his nose. “I would rather eat your baking than sleep with him.”

“Hey.”

Right then, the two of you are approached by a now-sober Yukhei. He must have vomited enough alcohol out of his system by now. Johnny stays beside him with mild worry across his features. Sicheng on the other hand looks like his social battery has drained out already.

“It’s time for a drinking game!” Yukhei tells the two of you. “With the… uh… not so drunk people.”

“So just the five of us? Where’s Sooyoung?”

“Doting over Yeri,” Johnny answers.

“Ah.”

“Let’s play something if you guys actually want me to stay and not die of boredom,” Sicheng mumbles in annoyance.

"Truth or drink?" Yukhei suggests. 

"Hell no," you mutter. "I've had enough of that."

"What, no dare this time," he insists with a wide smile and arms outstretched.

You hum. "What are you curious about anyway? I know you wanna know something."

Yukhei scratches the back of his head before glancing at Ten. "Well… have you two ever… I don't know, experimented with each other? Like you're best friends, right, so no hard feelings."

Ten furrows his brows, a gaze that's somewhere between a glare and a confused look.

"Experiment…?" He asks, almost afraid to.

"In bed," says Yukhei bluntly.

Ten turns a few shades darker in the face, noticeable even under the multi-colored party lights. You, on the other hand, pray your stunned expression isn't mistaken for the embarrassment you feel. You're not sure why the feeling arises.

"(Name) wishes," Ten jokes, playing it off.

You roll your eyes. "You wish, asshole."

Yukhei pulls a face and raises a hand to interrupt. "Please don't start another lover's quarrel."

Sicheng snickers at the side, although you thought he wasn't listening. How on earth does this joke not get old to them?

"Anyway, my question is answered," Yukhei says. "Best friends who are in love with each other cannot sleep together but friends who are not… they can right?"

Sicheng hums in response, a teasing smile already on his lips. Ten groans and places his hand to the back of Sicheng's neck, almost threatening.

"What would you know about sex, Sicheng?" He bickers. "You're like virgin supreme."

You narrow your eyes. "And what would you know?"

Ten opens his mouth then closes it promptly. Sicheng and Yukhei on the other hand break into laughter, mentioning something about digging graves before taking their leave from the two of you. You really don't think either of them should be drinking—considering Yukhei's a lightweight and Sicheng is supposed to drive.

Ten smacks the back of your head and you yelp, smacking his shoulder as hard as you can.

"I was trying to help us there," he complains. "You're so unfun."

You mimic his statement and he tries to pinch you in the cheeks, which you expertly avoid.

"So tell me," you say. "Have you or have you not had sex?"

Ten sighs. "Okay, yeah fine. Guilty. Whatever."

"What happened to no flings in New York?"

"Didn't feel like telling you."

"Oh, I'm so hurt."

The two of you look at each other and burst into laughter, easy to forget the scores of people around you in the moment. 

“So you definitely had a few flings in New York,” you say, crossing your arms with a smug smile.

“Like three, yeah,” he answers, shaking his head. “What does it matter?”

Some part of you is satisfied with the way he doesn’t look too interested. It’s the ridiculous part of you. The clementine light over his features make them seem even gentler than usual and you smile, pressing the back of your hand to his cheek.

“Wha—”

“Mhm. Your cheeks are so warm.”

“Oh, so now I’m your personal heater.”

Ten places his hand over yours and your heartbeat hikes, and so easily too when he looks at you with his honey eyes.

“You know what, you’re right. This party’s getting boring.” You look around, as though pretending will help you any better. But then again if Shakespeare was onto something and all the world's a stage, then you never stop pretending, right?

Ten looks at you for a suggestion and the moment pauses, contemplation on both of your faces. 

“Let’s just get Sicheng to drive us back,” you say finally. It’s not like you can stray too far for fear of Sicheng leaving behind the two of you (he’s done that before).

Sicheng jumps at the idea of going back and all of you have to participate in dragging drunk Sooyoung into the car and away from a slightly worn out Yeri. Thanking you and fixing her disheveled hair, she walks back into her own corner to what seems to be aggressively coding on her laptop and flipping the finger to any dude who approaches her. When work calls, you simply cannot hang up.

You and Ten are forced to sit together in the backseat now for Johnny sits shotgun, massaging his forehead from whatever hellsent concoction he made for himself and his friends. The drive is mostly quiet and you lay your head on Ten’s shoulder while Sooyoung snores beside you. It’s quiet like the laps of water between ripples. It feels so secure to stay like this, like the world cannot interrupt. You’ve missed your best friend. You’ve missed him so much.

You and Ten part ways with the others at the crossing and you don’t skip over the path as you used to, with the jovial youth you contained then. No, your steps are slower and perhaps more mature but still in pace with Ten’s just as ever. A cat waits by the entrance to your door, the same calico that has won over your mother’s heart and now waits patiently for treats. In a way, you kept feeding it because you thought of Ten whenever you did.

It seems these days, the only way to get kisses from Ten is to be a cat. He pets the cat with tender strokes and presses his face to its forehead with no fear of cat-borne diseases. 

“Hey, Ten. What about me?” You pucker your lips at him and he presses his palm to your lips instead, snickering.

In these short moments, moments that barely last, do you feel the three years he’s been gone. It’s funny how people change and never realize they do. It’s funny how you’re in awe of every person he becomes.

“I missed your rooftop the most in New York,” Ten says. 

You chuckle. “You hid there when your mom was mad at you.”

“Do you know how many slippers your rooftop has saved me from? I think your rooftop is more of a best friend to me than you are.”

You place your hand over your heart in mock hurt and he shakes his head, grinning.

“Well, let’s prove I’m more worthy of the best friend title then,” you say, grabbing his hand, the skin so soft to you, and dragging him into your house in quiet tiptoes. You remember coming up here back when you pretended to be pirates, when you acted out Shakespeare and when you wanted to forget the world, the terrible, cruel world you found yourself hating often. This is your hiding spot, a safe place. Ten makes it more so. 

Lying down against the rooftop, you trace the sky from star to star. The good thing about small, dimly lit towns is the clear view of the stars. So far from troubles, it must be easy to play the audience. 

“That looks a little like Felis,” Ten says, taking your hand and tracing a particular arrangement of the stars.

“Is that a… cat?”

“Yeah. It’s not a constellation anymore,” he tells you. “But I like to think it is.”

“I wish things never end too,” you mumble. “Like Brooklyn Nine-Nine. Or that new Taylor Swift song. I wish some things went on forever.”

Ten laughs airily. “I wish too.”

You turn to look at him. The curve of his nose is pretty as ever, eyelashes hanging close to the skin of his cheeks as he breathes with eyes closed. There’s a significant number of words you haven’t exchanged yet. There’s so many words you’re holding back.

“You seem tired,” you note.

He hums in response.

“Was New York that hard?”

He opens his eyes to look at you. “A little… tiring, yes.”

“Well, I’m glad you can rest now.” You smile and he returns it. 

“I’ve been running for so long and telling myself I’m still dancing,” he says, a sigh escaping afterwards. “I don’t even know where I am anymore.”

“You’re with me,” you respond. “Right here. On my rooftop.”

“Watching the stars again,” he completes, laughing aloud. “God, I wish we were kids again. All I cared about were the flavour of my cereal and how many constellations I could memorize.”

“The stars don’t give a shit about you, Ten,” you tease, repeating the line you used to tell him.

“The stars might not give a shit about us,” he agrees, “But that’s why I’d like to watch them a little longer.” 

“Me too,” you say softly.

You take a deep breath and let it out. These are the moments between the bloom of a flower and when it is picked. These moments are serene and warm and gentle, however ephemeral they may be. These are the moments between the flapping of a butterfly's wings—times when you and Ten fell asleep in detention in fifth grade for something that was very much your fault, or when he pets your head with the biggest grin after pissing you off on purpose or the proximity of the baby blue sky after your latest shopping mall mischief. But the flower will be picked someday. To live is to live in fear, and no matter how you try to buzz out the idea of it, it will come and it will prove itself.

“Sometimes I wish I were an angrier person,” you say quietly.

“What for?”

“They just seem so much more driven.”

“You’re driven enough. I think you do everything right already.”

“Working at plant nurseries, maybe. I’m not even a good enough cashier.”

“Flowers suit you.”

“You know, I could spend my life picking flowers and arranging them if I could,” you say, sitting up. “Everything moves so fast that the garden’s gone by the time I get to smell the flowers. You get me?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “I wish time could stop. Sometimes it does. When I’m on stage.”

“What’s that like?”

“It’s very beautiful,” he whispers, eyes fixed on you.

It's quiet, the sounds of the night filling the space between you and him.

"You know, in dance," he starts, "the most powerful thing you can be is still. It's also the most difficult."

You hum in response. "I find it easy to be still with you though. It's like I don't have to perform anymore, you know?"

Ten laughs. "I know. I wish I could say that about my ambitions."

You place your palms against his cheeks, holding his face gently. You're not sure if it's because you're a little tipsy or Ten's lips that are driving you crazy, but you smile wide.

"You are like a flower," you begin rather wisely. "And spring hasn't arrived yet."

Ten blinks before snorting and then laughing like you just said the stupidest thing ever. 

The downside to getting along like a house on fire is that the house is still on fire and you don’t know what to do about it. Your heart is burning and you want to tell him the words you’re holding back. But if they escape your mouth, the wind might carry it away and leave you with a heavy response. You can’t say anything yet. Not until you’ve mustered enough courage to leave this town behind with him. Not until you have enough financial confidence to fall in love.

“Hey, Ten.”

“Hm? Don’t ask me something stupid and ruin the night.”

You giggle. “Will you stay with me wherever I am?”

“A little overdue but yes, until death do us part.” 

The two of you laugh, shoulders shaking and eyes brimming with an unsaid emotion. This is how you fall in love. You fall in love like flowers blossoming and withering, like you have only each other to withstand the test of time. 

“Should we dance?” Ten offers. “This time, maybe you’ll finally learn to not step on my feet.”

“That just makes me want to step on your feet more.”

It's so easy to fall in love that you fall asleep to the feeling—like the nights after you watched cartoons well past bedtime and thought that Ten was the prettiest boy you'd ever seen, after reading illicit internet horror stories in seventh grade that only made you huddle closer, after creating a pillow fort in the name of memories the night of your graduation when you couldn't say out loud that Ten really is the prettiest boy you know. The feeling slips in like you slip on your night clothes and you forget they were ever off at all. Comfort is a fleeting thing but in that moment, it felt forever.

act ii scene iii.

Halloween is undoubtedly the greatest time to spend with friends. There’s spooky stories shared, an abundance of favourite candies and if you happen to be friends with theatre kids, there’s most certainly a fun play going on. The crisp autumn air is vaguely nostalgic, brimming with memories in this town. 

Evening creeps in and once you’re done with the day’s chores, you get dressed with such speed that your mother has to convince you to slow down. It’s like you’re a kid again, and you'd like to enjoy this morsel of your childhood before you're forced to grow up.

Greeting Ten’s mother as you rush into the house, you run up the stairs and into Ten’s room, opening the door with a loud bang. Somehow, Ten’s scream is louder than that. He’s wearing a towel around his waist (only a towel), hands covering his chest with a horrified look on his face.

"Stop screaming," you say, hands on your hips. "We've seen each other naked, what's the big deal? Actually, do that pitch again, you sound like Meryl Streep from Mamma Mia."

Ten chokes, covering his mouth with his knuckles while he coughs.

"We were like four and a half! How does that count?"

You giggle, turning around. "Change. Quick."

"I mean, you can see if you like, darling," he calls, liltingly. "I know you can't resist me. Ugh. Can't stand all this pining from a friend."

You make a gagging sound and he laughs. It seems like he’s gotten over the initial shock of you barging in. The sound of the wardrobe opening and Ten shuffling through clothes follows. You are glad, however, that he can't see the look on your face. You must be looking ridiculous. You wonder if he can see how tense your shoulders and torso are. This is not the way you wanted to start the evening. Can he tell apart the distinct nervousness in your voice? It's suddenly difficult to play it cool. And isn't playing it cool something you do in front of a crush?

You catch a glimpse of his naked back and it makes you shake your head violently to get rid of the thought. How ridiculous. You can’t be lovers yet.

“Alright, you can turn around. What the fuck are you even supposed to be?”

"Say hello to the wicked witch of the West!" You exclaim, grinning ear to ear when you jump around.

"Oh, you don't have to dress up for that."

Your smile turns into a pout and you pull hard at his still-soft cheeks. He lets out a pained whine, grabbing your wrists and gently tugging them off. His skin turns red easily, however, and you're left with an image of rosy-cheeked Ten just like when you first met.

“You’re a demon spawn,” he hisses, rubbing his sore cheek. 

“No, that’s definitely your thing. Can’t borrow that,” you say, crossing your arms and smiling smugly. “Why aren’t you dressed as one? Actually, why aren’t you dressed as anything?”

Ten shrugs. “I have to wear some ridiculous ghost outfit for the play so I decided I’d rather play the part of a sexy pirate ghost.”

You snort, looking at the half-buttoned white shirt tucked neatly into black trousers. “You? A ghost? A poltergeist is the word you’re looking for.”

Ten rolls his eyes. “If I were a ghost, I’d definitely haunt you for the rest of your life.”

“Okay, ghost boy, let’s get going.” You loop your arms through his and pull him out, leaving in just as much a whirlwind as you walked in. You do walk back in though—to stuff a few of the cookies Ten’s mom baked in your mouth and walk right out with a muffled ‘thank you’ and your hand still around Ten’s wrist.

Arriving at the theatre, Ten catches his breath though he tries to not look worn out before squinting and making a show of searching for something.

“What are you looking for?” You ask, furrowing your eyebrows.

“The train you thought we were going to miss.”

You stick your tongue out and finally let go of his hand. He pulls it to himself, rubbing at his wrist with an exaggerated look of pain. 

“Oh, it’s still intact. Thought I’d have to bid farewell to my dreams of being a professional calligrapher.”

“Eat ink, Ten.”

“Ooh, it’s the rare PG-13 (name). Nice.”

A loud bang emanates from the back entrance, Sicheng looking like a rather mortified Count Dracula (which is strange because Dracula is immortal, right?) with fake blood splattered across his jaw and two little fangs poking out. Ten no wastes no time in complimenting them, making Sicheng rather flustered.

“It was bad enough having to listen to your flirting through the door,” Sicheng mutters. “Get in. Quick. Sooyoung pulled out and we need someone to fill in.”

Your eyes light up and Sicheng is about to deny your wishes when Ten intervenes.

“(name). You get to play a slightly deranged witch with a most definitely existing bloodlust. You in?”

“You bet I am! I was born ready. Except in sixth grade when I had that meh phase and I wasn’t born ready. Then I was born ready again!”

Sicheng makes a face. “Yeah sure, just get in.”

“Aren’t you glad I’m dressed for the occasion?”

“Not really, no.”

Ten whistles when he walks in. “How much fake blood did you guys get?”

“Enough to re-enact Red Wedding from Game of Thrones,” Johnny answers from a corner, in a costume which you can’t tell if it’s a werewolf or just a fursuit. You can never seem to guess when it comes to Johnny.

Ten laughs before turning to you, the sound tuning out. “I have never watched Game of Thrones.”

You pat his shoulder, laughing. In the next moment, Sicheng pushes a script towards you, expecting you to actually read.

“Sicheng, you know I’m going to improvise.”

Sicheng groans. “Shakespeare was right. Hell is empty and all the demons are here.”

Throwing a pointed glare at you when he says the word ‘demons’, he crosses his arms. It’s easy to convince him though—he’s quite amenable when he’s stressed out about details and both you and Ten know he just needs some reassurance and good, gentle shove.

You and Ten sit on either side of him on a really, really worn out couch that you’re not sure can hold the weight of the three of you.

Sicheng holds up his hands in both of your faces before you can open your mouth.

“I feel like the child of a really immature couple who is forced to grow up at a tender age because his parents are so immature.”

“Uh,” Ten starts. “That’s very specific.”

“The character I’m playing has daddy issues,” Sicheng responds casually, and a little out of it. “Actually he’s got mommy issues too. Why am I playing an eight year old?”

“Because children are crap at acting,” Ten answers and you reach your arm to smack the back of his head.

“What? Ow, that hurt.”

“Sicheng, it’s our stupid Halloween play. We do it to have fun,” you say, placing your hand 

“You going all motherly is freaking me out,” Sicheng says, wide eyes staring at you.

“You’re right,” you say, dramatically sighing. “Motherhood changed me. I can’t do evil black magic anymore. Aha! That’s a good dialogue, isn’t it?”

“Harrowing, actually, but I guess that’s what you’re going for.”

You and Ten share a fond smile, laughing to yourselves till Joohyun calls you and gives you basic stage direction. She’s almost never home except for Halloween and it makes the holiday even more exceptional.

“Ready, Wicked Witch of the West?” Ten nudges you before he has to go on stage. 

“Wait, is that actually my character?”

“No. No, it isn’t. For the love of cats—the animal, not the musical—please just keep speaking and make it worse on stage. I need a recording to laugh at.”

You roll your eyes and push him on. He looks so at peace there, the conversation from that night coursing in remembrance. It’s like everything is still, the lack of motion driving him to move. 

You never understand it yourself, however, when you’re on stage. You blabber like an idiot, as Ten says, and the audience laughs and that is it. You don’t experience what he does and it sometimes drives you a little crazy. Of course, you adding a pregnancy narrative to your witch does throw the rest of the cast for a loop but they handle it well. You just have to make sure you run as fast as you can from Joohyun after the play is done.

“Good job there,” Ten snickers after you duck behind a curtain as Joohyun passes by with furrowed brows and a frown. 

“I know right? I’m literally Oscar-worthy,” you whisper-yell and Ten shakes his head.

“Come on.” This time his hand grips your wrist. “I know the best way to sneak out of this theatre.”

Taking a flight of stairs that you were previously unaware of, you plunge into the darkness of what seems to be an attic. Ten turns on the flashlight of his phone and you yelp, the lighting not helping his already spooky makeup. He laughs before navigating through a bunch of boxes. 

“I heard they used to use this room as an execution chamber,” Ten whispers.

“They did not. Get the fuck out of here.”

“Okay fine. I did cry here though after reading an internet article about ill-fated lovers in ancient Asia.”

“Ugh. Truly horrifying.”

“Yeah, yeah. Emotions terrify you.”

“They do not.”

Ten stops walking.

“Oh yeah? Got any proof?”

You stop yourself before you can do something embarrassing. The first thought that came to you was to kiss the smug look off his face and it does terrify you. The bastard is right. 

“I… cried at your birthday party.”

“You were six. Everyone cries when they’re six.”

“Alright, fine. I cried after you left.”

The silence makes you look up and for once, you don’t really want Ten to be so speechless. You punch his shoulder lightly.

“I missed you a lot,” you say quietly. “Is that so surprising?”

He opens his mouth but no sound comes out. 

“Hello? Anyone inside?” You knock at his forehead before holding his face between your face. “You’re shivering. It’s pretty cold here.”

“I’m not cold,” he says quickly, the red rising in his face.

“Of course, you’re cold. Your cheeks are aflame, that’s how cold it is.”

Ten shuts off the flashlight and you scream at the abrupt darkness.

“It’s not from the cold,” he mumbles.

Now left with only Ten’s warm hand around your wrist, you let him guide through wherever the hell it is you are before emerging onto the second floor of 1075 Building. 

“What the hell?” You gasp. “Why wasn’t I aware there was a secret passage here? Is this what archaeologists feel like? ”

Ten smiles, in some sort of victory. “You don’t know a lot of things.”

You walk into the empty room, or rather wiggle in through the window—this building used to be some sort of housing apartment before being torn down halfway for renovation. Some ghost stories spooked the workers too much to continue. However, having been here long enough, you know that the only thing haunting this place is the abundance of cats. In fact, you can see a few eyeing the two of you from the other windowsills. The room is fairly well-lit and maintained so you guess the renovation will start again soon.

“You got us pizza?” you exclaim at the pizza boxes and cans of cola resting over a little picnic blanket.

“Yes, I did. Wait, crap, I forgot the candy.”

“Nah, that’s okay.” You show him the Reese’s peanut butter cups and Snickers you had pocketed from some unsuspecting children. They get way too many anyway. This is completely morally justified—you’re doing this to save them from cavities and poor health.

“I can’t believe you’d ever want to escape a theatre,” you say before humming at how good the pizza tastes. Pizza is always better when you’re having it someplace you’re not supposed to be in.

“Sometimes, it’s suffocating.” He finally bites into his pizza, an unreadable look over him. You don’t like it. Shifting closer so that your knees touch, you lean in a little.

“Oh, really? After all that talk about how beautiful it is.”

“It is. It just wears me out sometimes. Like you.”

Ten flushes red immediately. “I didn’t mean it—I, I… uh.”

“Aw, you think I’m beautiful.”

“Gah, I knew you’d say that.”

There’s a pause. 

“I got kicked out, actually,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“I had some disagreements with the writers and… and here I am.”

You look at him in stunned silence. “They did fucking what? I’m going to kill them.”

“No, (name). I was at fault. I overstepped. I guess city air made me a little greedy.”

“You were always greedy though.”

“If that’s your example of sympathy, you are horrible at it. Never try again.”

“Well.” You smile reassuringly. “You’re quite beautiful on stage. Too. Like me, as you said.”

“I’m a performer,” he says, a hint of satisfaction in his voice when he leans in. “You can’t beat me at that.” 

“Then put on a show for me, darling.” You raise an eyebrow, a cocky smile over your lips.

Ten’s cheeks colour. It’s silent for a few moments and you take notice of the lack of distance between your noses, your lips. He seems to lose touch with reality when he gently cups your cheeks and presses his lips to yours. A soft gasp escapes you, not quite ready for the contact.

Ten pulls apart immediately, a look of horror in his eyes.

“I- I’m sorry… I got caught in the—I’m sorry.”

He gets up abruptly and you still sit there in shock. When your senses are back, the room is empty and you hug yourself, feeling colder. God, you’re an idiot. For the first time in your life, you’ve come to your senses and you decide to let the only person you’ve loved walk out the door.

Your texts to him that night aren’t even left on read but you know he’s read the notifications. He always does when he’s avoiding someone. You feel the weight slithering in, pinning you down and making it hard to sleep that night. You have so many things you want to say to him and this time, you’re ready. Even if fate doesn’t let you, you will speak the lines you should have chosen much earlier.

act ii scene iv.

You don’t have anyone to show it to but the news broke you.

The idea of him keeping it all to himself, bearing burdens that are better shared makes your heart collapse its walls into itself. You’re supposed to be there. You were supposed to be there from every pitfall to the top of the world. You were supposed to be at every stage, at every afterparty and for every bout of performance high. You didn’t mean to leave the seat empty.

You were supposed to be there at every rejection and every failure, making fun of all the troubles. 

You get a text from Ten two mornings later to meet up at the new cafe everyone’s been talking about. It takes you the rest of the morning to practise what you’ll say, what you won’t and how you’ll say it. You’ve never done this much for actual plays. But you’re not acting—you just need the words to come out right.

The wall of the cafe is covered in ivy, but you cannot waste time admiring it. Your nerves have the best of you. You stop at the entrance, backtracking to say your entire speech in your head once again. The most important friendship of your life depends on this stupid monologue you came up with a night before in front of the mirror.

“(name).” 

You jump, finding Ten behind you. His nose is a little red from the cold but he looks fine apart from that. You can’t believe you’re early. This might be the first time in your life and you breathe out, slightly more confident.

“Can you… uh, not block the door?”

“Right. Sorry.”

The two of you walk in, a nervous tremble over your fingers but you clasp your hands together tight. He still remembers your favourite drink and you take a moment to try and understand why it’s surprising at all. You wish he never left.

“Ten,” you begin. “If you want to talk about that kiss—”

“Stop. I’m sorry. That was so out of line.” He lets out a distressed sigh, leaning back in the chair. 

“It’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be,” you say quickly. That was not in the speech.

He sits up. “I… Am I taking things too seriously? You’ve been my longest friend, (name). You should tell me.”

You frown. “I didn’t mean it in a harsh way. You just think it’s bad because you kissed your best friend and—”

“No. What do you think?”

You gulp.

“See, (name)? I lied because it fucking hurts right now. I don’t want to play this part.”

“No, Ten. I wanted to tell you. I wanted to tell you so many things but there’s the city, your job—oh. I- I don’t mean to bring it up if the wound is still fresh. Ten—”

“You don’t understand,” he cuts. “You’ve always been happy here. You’re happy wherever.  I’m not… like… that.”

There’s a pause. You pull your jacket closer, the temperature dropping despite the smell of warm baked goods and hit coffee.

“I thought you knew me,” you whisper coldly. 

Ten looks away. “I don’t. I don’t know. I don’t know anything about you. I don’t know anything about anything.” 

You breathe sharply. “Ten, I know the city was tough but it’s all you ever wanted.”

“I don’t know what I want,” he whispers. “I don’t know where I belong and- and it just keeps getting harder.”

Your eyes soften. “At least, you were there at Broadway. You took the first step and maybe… maybe you can make a priority list, you know? Work things out.”

“(name), stop. You keep trying to cheer me up in the wrong way.” He dips his face into his palms, rubbing at it and sighing.

You purse your lips. This conversation is going nowhere and you’re holding onto the last shred of your empathy. You just want him back with you.

“You got to go out there, Ten. You went to college, you went to New York. You got to go out there and live your dreams, for whatever it was worth, while I’m stuck in this nothing town. Forever.”

“That’s… that’s not true,” he says, voice breaking. “You were saving up for college. We would live in the same city, in the same apartment with the cats and the hot pink curtains and a coffee maker—oh god, I’ve ruined it.”

It’s painful. You don’t know what to say. If this were a movie, the beautiful, romantic kind, you’d be confessing your long-kept feelings. But you don’t know. You don’t know anything about anything. It’s been a year and he’s changed in a way you don’t know and you can’t throw it onto him like this. This isn’t a movie, and you don’t have a script. Your practised words are forgotten as soon as they reach the tip of your tongue. 

People change, and you’re holding onto someone he’s already buried. He’s not in love with you; teenage love is shaky, wobbly at the foundation. He misses the years, not you. You’ve known him your whole life and yet a year’s difference makes you see things differently. You were lonely without him. You were lonely when you had to keep yourself from calling him, when you finally decided to stop sending daily texts, when you couldn’t find the same comfort in any of your other friends. You hurt him and now, you have to face it.

You pick wilting flowers at an overgrown garden. 

No, even if it isn’t you, you want him. You want him and him only, the years be damned. The past pales in comparison to what is now.

“I’m in love with you,” you blurt. “I was just shocked last night because I didn’t think you were in love with me.”

“You’re not in love with me,” he counters. “You’ve been in love with so many people but none of them were me.”

“You. It’s you—oh my god, it was always you.”

Ten glances at his untouched cup, yet undecided on what to do with his fingers when they stop tapping against the bright red plastic table abruptly.

“So what? So what if it was me? I don’t know what it’s like to play that part.”

You breathe out. There’s a silence between the two of you, one which you remember hanging stars upon. Now it's quiet in a way that has nothing to do with astronomy, or art, or music or anything, really. It’s empty. Like every other silence.

“I loved you,” you whisper in an attempt that is more delirious than for closure. “Do you really not know what that’s like?”

Ten shakes his head. “I… I don’t.”

The memories of him smiling under the sun, only memories keep your tears from brimming up. There was meant to be closure. There was meant to be an explanation. You were supposed to be closing that door you opened into each other. Ten looks at your shaking hands and for a moment, you think he might even reach out and warm them up with his sunlit ones. You press them to your face and breathe into them.

“You brought me all the way here to lie to me?”

Ten furrows his eyebrows.

“I’m not lying—I can’t care about you. You know that, right? I’ll ruin your life. Like I’ve ruined mine.”

You laugh, partly in exasperation and partly as an attempt to alleviate the pain in your chest. 

“You’re my boy. I know you better than anything else I know.”

“Don’t- Don’t do that. Don’t make me want something more.”

"Why would you kiss me?" You bite down your lip to stop yourself from crying.

Ten seems at a loss for words, looking at you with parted lips and guilty eyes. 

"I love you. I'm sorry."

With your eyes downcast, you take a shaky breath. It's now or never. Never, never, never. The word chimes like wedding bells and you think for a moment, to lie. If you pretend, if you act, you'll live it out. He cannot stay and you cannot leave. What a ridiculous pair you are.

You squeeze your eyes shut, get up and lean over the table to place a kiss against Ten's mouth. You pull away with reluctance, looking at the quiet surprise in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. "I got… I got caught in the moment."

Ten stares at you soundlessly, mouth moving and yet no words come out. Instead, he runs his fingers through your hair before placing his hand on your cheek and leans in again. There's a red flush over his cheeks and it makes you feel at ease.

"I didn't want to hold you back," you say after parting. "Or at least, that's what I told myself. But this year without you has been so painful."

Ten doesn't say anything.

"I… I didn't know what I felt and- and I was so scared… I didn't mean to hurt you. I hate that I did."

“I was afraid,” he says, breathing out like he was holding it in. “I was so afraid you wouldn’t care if I came back.” 

Time treats everything poorly. This time, you’ll try your best to win against it. Ten breaks into a wide, relieved smile and you laugh, rubbing at the tears that collected. God, you were so afraid you wouldn't ever be able to talk to each other anymore. Every room you’ve been in without Ten has been so empty that you had stopped opening doors at all. The coffee is hot and tastes better than ever.

//

You dream of something as ridiculous as the love you feel for Ten. 

There's a cat in the sky, made of stars and with a booming, deep voice—and you, you are little and insignificant on a forgotten rooftop. It is serene, in quiet contemplation, and you are looking at it like a neglected child at its mother. You ask something without words and it responds without words. 

All of sudden, the image disappears and you find yourself in a garden, picking flowers. The clothes you wear are not yours, the face you wear is not yours. But Ten, you'd recognise him anywhere, any time, in another lifetime.

You could see the clear distinction between the two of you however. You wore robes of royalty, the auspicious gold embroidery glistening, and he, that of a performing artist in quiet sage green. The blue irises that grew around you paid no heed to your colours and you had the thought that you should be like them. Vivid, smiling and never alone.

Ten greets you with a smile first and then stretches out his arms. You run to him, with enough force to knock the two of you onto the soft, grassy ground. No one will find the two of you here, in this flower bed. You remember thinking that royalty puts on just as much a show as theatre actors.

You didn't have to remember all of it to know that the story was a tragedy, carefully crafted by divine writers and painters. It was cruel, as is every writer's hand. You see him last under a beautiful sunset before an execution, the words ‘please’ on his lips and no hint of resentment in his smile. It was unlike him. It was so unlike him. 

You hug yourself. He shouldn’t have forgiven you so easily. It takes you a few moments to come back to your senses; this is not you. That person in your dreams wasn’t you—why did you have to feel all that pain? That person in your dream watched their lover die—no, let their lover die as though discarding a messed up sketch. Cruel. It was so cruel. 

The burning idea sprouts in your mind that it was the original script. That perhaps you were cruel and he was not and it’s been that way since forever. That if you don’t do something about it, you’ll be the villain once more. It's as scary to be young as it is lively—and not for once, did you ever think that villains were children too.

ACT III: HAPPINESS 

 act iii scene i.

If the world were to end tomorrow, Ten would spend tonight dancing with you. He says it so easily that you forget to tease him about it.

“Not like that,” he instructs, eyebrows furrowed. “Do this.”

“I am doing this.” You huff, crossing your arms.

“No, you’re not—holy shit, your arms are made of lead.”

You punch him in the shoulder and he stumbles, losing his balance. He sits down on his bed, leaning back on his arms and laughs. You join him and sit down on the fuzzy rug. He gets off immediately to sit beside you.

“I mean, you’re not that bad,” he says with a shrug.

You mimic his statement, rolling your eyes and he attacks your side with an unannounced bout of tickling. The last time you did this, you were a foot shorter and no high school dating rumours were flying around. The last time you did this, you didn’t end up kissing, limbs entangled with each other. December feels like June.

Ten pulls away from you, hovering over to kiss you once again before kissing turns into giggling which turns into laughter.

“I like this," you say quietly.

"Kissing me?" He asks with a sly grin.

"It's actually a little disappointing. Thought you'd be a ten at kissing."

"Atrocious. Disgusting. Vile. Never say that to me again."

You stick your tongue out at him and he does the same, the afternoon torpor settling in heavy as you cuddle into each other. It’s nostalgic almost but at the same time, so very new. You want to talk to him for hours and hours but when the hours end, it never feels enough. An ending is what you despise. Your thoughts meander.

“I had a nightmare,” you confess suddenly.

There’s a very brief pause. Before Ten even says anything, his arms reach out, pulling you into him. It’s warm and you smile.

“Was it your own face you saw?”

“Fuck you. You ruined the moment.”

“We were having a moment?”

You elbow him in the gut and he lets out a grunt of pain, the two of you moving away from each other just to glare. Ten caves first, sliding closer to you and placing his palm against your cheek.

“Can we resume our moment?” he asks, eyes crinkling when he smiles.

You press your forehead to his, your breathing in perfect coordination. This feels easy. This feels right. You pull away and look at him, the silence encasing your moment with him.

“I saw you in it. I… I lost you in it.” You bite your lower lip, avoiding his gaze.

“Hey. It was just a bad dream. I’m right here.” Ten draws closer, his breath mingling with yours and the warmth seeps into you just enough to forget the cold night. 

“You know what would cheer me up from a nightmare?” You nudge him.

“If you say visiting the graveyard—god, fuck, you’re gonna say visiting the graveyard. My suggestion is that you see a therapist.”

“I would if I had the money,” you retort.

Ten shrugs before furrowing his eyebrows. “Are we actually going to the graveyard? You know there are like graves there.”

“That’s… why it’s called a graveyard.”

“Don’t get smart with me, you failed seventh grade English.”

“You failed sixth grade math, Ten. Sixth grade. They teach you like fractions and shit then.”

“Do I look like I need to add three-fourths and one-eighths ever in my life?”

You shake your head before getting up with a burst of energy, and pick up your jacket from his bed. 

“Let’s go! Let’s go!” You start to chant at Ten until he reluctantly gets up. The sun is quite far from setting down yet and everyone knows the perfect time to visit a grave is twilight. Maybe the stone will give your life enough perspective to ease your anxious thoughts.

//

The town cemetery is located by the bed of dahlias which have withered in the seasonal cycle of life and death. There’s a light breeze and your jacket is just enough to withstand it. The sky is orange and pink and the graveyard doesn’t seem as looming as it does in the dead of night (which you know because you’ve visited at two in the morning on a stupid bet with Johnny and somehow Ten was the one scared shitless). You’ve heard stories of the soldiers who were buried here, the women who led the first revolution and everyone else who never got to grace history books. You’ve never enjoyed history much but you can’t gainsay that it puts everything into perspective.

Nothing else matters at the wedding altar and at the grave. 

Ten makes a face at the iron gates of the cemetery. “Okay. We’ve had our adventure. Can we please go get our evening snacks?”

“I love it when you’re antsy, Ten.”

He gives you a sardonic smile. “And I like it better when we’re in my bedroom.”

You gasp dramatically, placing your hand in front of your mouth lightly. “That’s quite scandalous of you, good sir.”

He smiles, eyes crinkling. “I consider myself something of a modern man, you see?”

You skip over the steps to the gates and do a curtsy before gesturing to the entrance. He complies with a sigh of reluctance and lets you take his hand as you pull him in. 

A loud voice startles the two of you and Ten smacks his mouth before he can scream and embarrass himself.

“What business do you have here, trespassers?” The voice echoes through the graveyard.

You look around at the trees and squint at what seems to be some children wearing masks and giggling to themselves. You roll your eyes. Johnny told you some of the town kids were mucking about near the graveyard to spook passersby. 

“You really should get back home for dinner, kids,” you say, crossing your arms.

“Silence, trespasser! You will answer our questions to pass.”

Ten bites back a laugh. “Alright, kids. Shoot.”

“Are the two of you criminals married?”

Ten wrinkles his nose. “Do we look that old?”

“Okay! Next question. Did the two of you ever… do it?”

“What?” you ask, tilting your head. 

Ten groans. “You can say sex, you know? Don’t be pussies.”

You elbow him in the side and he yelps. 

“Those are kids,” you whisper.

“I think they’re old enough if they’re asking,” he whispers back.

“No,” you answer the same time he answers “Yes”.

“What?” You look at him in surprise. 

He shrugs, somewhat guilty. “New York,” he responds in a meek voice. “You know?”

You snicker before it turns to laughter. “Why do you look like that? It’s not a crime to have sex—how the fuck did you even get some though?”

“It’s called having sex appeal. Ever heard of it?”

You roll your eyes, opening your mouth to say something when one of the kids clears his throat.

“Okay! You may pass.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “You really just the wanted to ask us about sex, didn’t you?”

“Let’s go, boys!” The kid declares before stopping abruptly. “And girl.”

A group of kids emerges from behind the trees and flock to a hole in the stone wall, laughing amongst themselves as they run out.

“Wow. Kids these days, huh?” Ten says.

“When we were their age, we convinced Yukhei to poke a beehive.”

“Okay, we were asshole kids but no one ever really told us bees were deadly.”

You walk further into the graveyard, beelining towards the same graves you visit often. They’re unnamed but they died sometime in the nineteenth century. Time passes in a way that is hard to comprehend—all these people and stories are never remembered and time is the only witness. Perspective is a luxury to those who have the time to look.

“Why do you like coming here?” Ten asks quietly, eyeing the gravestones with an unreadable look in his eyes.

“For perspective,” you answer truthfully.

He hums, a somewhat understanding note in his voice.

“They only lived for twenty-four years,” you note.

“The world ends too soon sometimes.”

“Kind of sucks.”

“Really sucks.”

The wind is cold when it passes the two of you by. Ten shivers and zips his jacket before checking up on you, fixing your jacket to cover you better.

“When I leave this place, I hope I have a nice farewell,” you whisper.

Ten raises his eyebrow. “Don’t you want it to be an awful, everyone’s-crying sort of affair?”

“No,” you respond, giving him a confused look.

“I want at least one person to be crying,” he replies, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“That’s kind of—wait a minute.” You glare at him. “You don’t have to use that against me. I wasn’t crying crying.”

“I’m not! I mean it. Like, I want to mean something to someone.”

You draw near enough to link your arms, sighing at the warmth emanating.

“And you’re lying. I know you sobbed right into the pillow like a dramatic ass Disney princess.”

“You’re the one with a flair for drama.” You chuckle.

Ten makes a reluctant sound of agreement, crossing his arms. As he looks at the graves, there’s an expression on his face you can’t quite fathom. It could be mourning—but the graves are nameless, or it could be pity—but he believes that pity is not a positive emotion to feel. You want to ask but something keeps you from it. Something tells you that the answer won’t be pleasant for either of you.

“I hope I cry too,” he whispers. “When I leave and the curtain falls and the world ends.”

You look at him, pondering.

“When I leave,” he begins again, “I want it to hurt. When everything changes, I want it to hurt bad. Then I know it meant something.”

You slip your hand into his and squeeze. “If it means anything, you know I’ll cry if you leave.”

Ten laughs. “Yeah. So when you cried, was it the ugly snot cry or the silently sobbing kind of cry?”

“Fuck off.”

He opens his mouth to retort but gets a full kiss on the mouth instead, good enough to make him forget it. It’s a nice thing to get used to. If time permits, you could do everything together forever.

You return at twilight, grabbing some snacks and arguing whose Netflix account to use and the sun sets before you come to an agreement but it’s not winter anymore inside his room. In fact, it doesn’t feel like winter at all till you look outside and see the naked trees and darker skies, and you remember when you decided last year that you don’t like winter. 

Before you can have a change of heart, you turn to him with sparkling eyes.

He smiles before you even say anything, reading your face as easily as the back of his hand. “You have good news? Or, like, a gift?” Chuckling in breaks, he runs his fingers through your hair.

“I just wanted to talk about our future.”

“Hm?” He seems a little surprised.

“I’m sure we’ll work something out for the both of us. I have faith in you. And in us.”

Ten’s smile falters but he doesn’t let it fall. “I’m glad you do.”

His ringtone startles the two of you just as you lean in, Ten muttering curses at the device. Pausing for a bit when he takes out his phone, he signals you that he needs a minute and leaves you alone in his room. 

Nothing much has changed. There's his cluttered ash wood desk with sketchbooks of varying sizes and colours, shelves with small plushies and, you notice carefully, the butterfly pin you stole. Beside it is the panda soft toy you had found at the side of the road walking back from school and felt so bad, you had "adopted" it. You let out a chuckle.

“Ten?” you call, holding the little panda soft toy.

Ten paces outside his room, speaking in a hush. His features are tense, shoulders stiff and eyes focused when he talks to the caller. Noticing you, his eyes soften for a bit and he makes his way towards you.

“I’ll- I’ll talk to you later,” he speaks sharply into the phone.

“Who’s that?” you ask, walking up to him.

“Sicheng,” he replies briskly.

“Oh.” You remember the doll in your hand and pick it up to show him. “Remember how we got this?”

He smiles but something is amiss in his eyes. “Of course I remember.”

Whatever it is, it must not be important. After all, he’s your best friend and best friends tell each other everything. Morning will come and everything will be alright.

//

The night is cold and the moon is missing. The clothes you wear are not your own once again. This dream begins when the sun has just set and you can taste bitter defeat, but of what battle you don’t know yet. 

All you know is that there is a war and you are caught in the crossfire. It hurts; you can’t feel your limbs anymore and another injury won’t matter anymore. Maybe this is the only life you won in.

No one dies in a way that matters. No one dies for anything at all. It just happens and that is a truth lying within the reach of the universe. Yet then again, when you find your last breath escaping you as you hold hands with the love of your life, you think there must be some meaning to it. You’re only twenty-four and you will be buried in a nameless grave for a war that was the fault of neither of you. 

It dawns on you the moment you wake up, brushing away the tears on your cheeks. The universe is forgetting you, and the universe is being forgotten, until there is nothing left to be remembered.

All you can think then is that you will miss Ten in the next life, and in the next and the next. 

act iii scene ii.

Ten has to tell you. He knows. He knows how the story ends. 

But he’s afraid. He didn’t know how long he’d been walking facing forward till he’d turned around just to find you gone. New York was fun and he made new friends but it’s difficult to be anywhere without you. You’ve been attached at the hip for so long, it’s become strange to be apart.

Ten thinks about the call. The director was very particular about his role and chances come by as rare as diamonds. Ten breathes out heavy in annoyance, covering his eyes with his forearm. He loves sunny winter mornings and this is the worst one he’s ever experienced. He can hear his mom cooking downstairs, the sound soothing and he groans, running his fingers through his hair. 

He should tell you. He knows he should tell you. But fear never walks in on stage with full gusto, it creeps in, slithers in till he feels a shadow behind him on stage and suddenly, he can’t see the lights anymore. Ten is afraid. He is afraid of losing his sense of self to the millions of people he’s played, and to your vibrant world of flowers and colours. You are always front stage centre. You are at the bottom of everything and he can’t let himself fall deep enough. He’s not enough.

Ten turns to face the collection of DVDs on his shelf, untouched since he'd left. What did he start performing for again? Was it the time you and him pretended to be pirates in his room, his bed your gallant ship, or the time he watched his first movie on a sweltering hot summer day, or the time he sang to you the first time (it was a birthday song remix, made by Ten himself). Surely, it was for something beautiful and not for something like greed. At that time, he thought that maybe if he stole enough lives and stuffed it into the gaping hole, it would sate his envy of the people around him. The bright vibrant colours, he made his own and yet still, he feels like a thief with his nimble feet and a stash of paint bottles in his arms. He's not satisfied at all.

It was a sunlit morning and Ten thought to himself, wouldn’t it be nice if he could paint with all the colours of the rainbow? You, who are so full of vibrance, couldn’t understand this epiphany of his.

"You keep getting on my nerves," he mutters in this empty room of his. "Everything you do gets on my nerves."

Ten decides that he’ll tell you this evening. After all, best friends tell each other everything. The theatre means the world to him but the whole world is out there, ready to be his stage. Eventually, this loneliness will turn into a performance and he’ll be grasping at identities trying to find familiarity. He will take his masks off over and over again, and he knows he’ll still be wearing one. He wants to greet you with his real face.

The world spins at the rate of a thousand miles an hour. It never stops, and that must mean everyone on it can’t stop either. 

//

The crows are singing a song, or talking amongst themselves. You can never know. The song is dyed red as the evening, and with a splash of purple. It’s the season to miss flowers and warm hands and the sweet taste of ice cream. You don't know why but the "let's go to the gardens" text from Ten gave you the most awful feeling, much like the morning after your nightmares.

“I have to go back to New York.”

You look up at Ten from the park bench beside the dahlia fields. The flowers are asleep, not in bloom until next autumn. 

“What?”

“I got a call… from someone I know.”

Your first reaction is to smile wide and jump up. “That’s great! You’re not jobless anymore.” You laugh.

But then the corner of your lips twitch and your smile drops. The word ‘goodbye’ hangs at the tip of your tongue and you look at him, slightly perplexed. Ten, who looks at you with so much kindness, will never understand this envy of yours.

“When… when do you come back?”

“I don’t- I don’t know. It depends on how well I do.”

You laugh despite the heavy feeling settling in your chest. “That- Let’s hope your acting is shitty then, hm?”

Ten frowns. “This isn't a joke. For once in your life, can you look at me with sincerity?”

You grit your teeth at his words. 

“I’m trying to lighten the mood, god dammit,” you murmur bitterly.

“And I’m saying you don’t have to.”

There’s something looming over the top of your heads, something eerie like a clock that never stops ticking or a clock that never ticks.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask, surrender in your voice already. 

If you kiss him where you hurt him, will everything be alright? Can you grow the flowers he likes over his scars? Flowers… flowers—which were his favourite again? Irises or daisies? It must have been the prior; you’ve glanced over a hundred times at the endless fields of sleeping blue irises in his sketchbook. And yet, you doubt. Were those flowers chrysanthemums? You’re grasping onto memories and your knuckles are starting to hurt.

Ten looks at you with a gaze that is of the past. He looks at you like he’s mourning, like he’s keeping something grave from you. So you lean in, your lips brushing against his before you can kiss him fully. You want to feel him and for him to feel you, the idea of a relationship foreign and close to you as ever. Even so, you feel like a ghost as you run your fingertips over his skin and through his hair. He knows how to kiss you, how to hold you—and he’s known you for years.

Ten pulls apart for a few moments, breaths weaving into each other. It’s only five centimeters between your lips but it’s still five centimetres. You don’t know if you were meant to be apart or if you were not. The show must go on.

You brush the hair from his face, a lingering smile on your face from the kiss and the way his features align so perfectly. It’s easier to avoid his gaze that way. 

“I’m tired,” he whispers. “I’m so tired. I feel like my skin is losing its grip on my bones. Everything’s falling apart.”

You hum, choking up at the sound of his voice. Soft and yet, so heavy.

He takes a sharp, shaky breath. “I don’t want to go.” 

Forever is the sweetest lie you’ve told each other. 

“You’re going to go,” you pronounce the words into realization. “You’re going to go away again. And I’m going to be right here.”

Your broken heart is making it much more difficult than it should be.

“Don’t go,” you whisper hoarsely. Maybe if this time you didn’t lie. Maybe you’ll be his number one, his lead finally. 

His breathing gets erratic, and he takes a step back to cover his face with his flushed hands. It’s painful to watch him this way and you want to take your words back. But you knew. You knew what the words would result in, what the words would grow into. You feel cruel.

“I… I can’t give up,” he says finally, “I can’t- I can’t. I’m sorry, oh god. Why can’t you come with me? Why do I have to go back alone?”

You swallow, your eyes downcast. 

“I’m not going to wait,” you say finally. “We should… we should stop now. It’s been long enough for us to go our own ways.”

Ten doesn’t move, at a loss for words.

“You… I'm sorry,” he says, choking on his own words. 

Your lips tremble and you wipe at your eyes. He cups your face, thumbs swiping away the tears before you can muster enough strength to push him away. You’re a complete mess, in a way you haven’t been before. Even now, he’s the only one you can face.

“We’re not,” you say, regaining some control over your tongue, “We’re not supposed to be like this. Do you think we would even be friends if we didn’t grow up here together?”

“What- What does that matter?” He furrows his eyebrows, drawing nearer.

“I’m saying that everything could just be a coincidence and maybe… maybe things should just end sometimes.”

You just want to kiss him, in the way a romantic story ends in a sweet kiss and it’s a happy ending.

“You don’t mean that,” he whispers. “But if you want distance, I’m giving you thousands of miles of it.”

You clench your jaw. “Don’t blame me for pushing you away.”

Ten throws up his arms in exasperation. “I’m not blaming—why are you so defensive all of a sudden?”

“You made me that way,” you answer, pitch low. Your throat hurts. 

Ten looks at you with disappointment in his eyes, baby pink lips in a frown you hate. "I'm sorry. I have to leave."

You nod and let the words 'see you tomorrow' slip the same time 'goodbye' slips his. He turns his back and walks forwards as he always has, and you look in from the same place as you always have. 

Eventually, you get the energy to go home. You greet your colourful room with the same look you always have before something catches your eye. The colour of your room mostly comes from the polaroids stuck to your wall—you and Ten at your high school graduation dancing to Nicki Minaj, Yukhei and you looking done holding the caricatures Ten painted of you, Sicheng and Ten and you after your first theatre performance together. There are so many smiles that you end laughing, a little crazy with the sound. Perhaps spring isn't as far as you think it is. Perhaps you will be okay.

Everything has an end. You know that. It hurts so fucking bad.

Ten was right. Because it hurts this bad, you know it meant something now. It meant the whole world to you. Winter tumbles upon you at full force even as you hold autumn dearly in your arms.

//

This time, you close your eyes to find yourself in a field of dahlias. The dream is meandering with colours and sounds so quiet that you feel like you’re stuck in time. Then a loud vibration resounds throughout the field; it is not a field at all. 

You are sitting atop a bed of stars, in the belly of something much larger than you are. There is a place in the universe for everyone but you cannot find yourself in it. 

So you sit at the places you’ve always known, at gardens and children’s parks, waiting till your hair turns grey and your skin starts to wrinkle. Time flows around you, faster with each second but you sit so still that you're not breathing anymore. You're so jealous of those who move, dance and play. Does it have to be this painful? You don't want to be all these people in your dreams. You want to paint your own mask.

The world is so busy and you are completely still. You think of sunshine in New York and how he must be loving it and for a moment, your plastered lips quirk upward. 

When you wake up, Ten is on a flight to New York with a text that reads: "I'll come back. I promise." The sunset after a farewell—even you understand the beauty of it and so, you watch him chase his dreams into the sunset.

act iii scene iii.

You know an ending scene when you see one. It’s the only scene you didn’t end up sleeping through. But this doesn’t feel like one, no matter how deep the despair runs through you. This third act love was never supposed to work out and yet, something is amiss.

Ten doesn’t come back even when the billboards proudly show his face and he’s the star of the show. In your opinion, he always has been. But people get comfortable in the present, sink their feet into it, and when they do, they forget the past. 

The world spins at a thousand miles per hour but nothing seems to move for you. Everything stops and life goes on.

epilogue.

Your youth starts to run out.

Sorrow grows into anger, then into resentment. You’re not sure what you hate so desperately but you hate it nonetheless. You’re pissed and you don’t know what to do with yourself except wake up shaking and wanting to shout and cry at the world. You were supposed to have Ten by your side even then. Even when you’re against the world, he was supposed to be there. Now you’re all alone in a world that’s crashing and burning, in a world of your own making and in a world that is no longer in the palm of your hand.

You wish you were an angrier person, you wish you could curse and scream and fight as easily as they do in movies. At least he didn't make a villain out of you when he left first. 

You don’t really have nightmares anymore though. When you have nothing to lose, you start to fear less. You tend to a little garden of your own making after Mr. Yang passes away. There’s a quiet funeral and a will written with your name on it. You did spend most of your time there after Ten left. It’s your flower shop now and you can tend to whichever flowers you want to keep alive.

Sometime in your late twenties, you get a call from an old friend. You meet Doyoung at a coffee shop near the college he went to, and he tells you he got your number from Yukhei that night you met. He says he’s glad your number hasn’t changed in all these years—he found it going through his contacts. You find it cute the way he becomes flustered when trying to explain himself. He’s a lawyer now, finished all those tough years to complete his dreams.

It makes you smile. You think that dreams shouldn’t be kept in a bottle but your shelves are full.

You go on dates at the cutest new cafes and the most ambient restaurants, sometimes to amusement parks so you can laugh at his fear of scary rides. It feels like having a friend once again and you cheer up for the better. 

But Doyoung doesn’t understand history the way you do. He doesn’t understand a lot of things—but it’s not something you expect anyway. He’s rich and he doesn’t know what small towns are like. You think you can be in love again. He proposes to you on a yacht and you nod, paralyzed from your fear of the ocean. Your parents are so happy for you that for a brief time, you feel happy too in the shadow of their joy.

You don’t visit your hometown anymore after the wedding. You don’t visit theatres at all.

Sometimes you remember the night at the rooftop after the party with Ten and smile. But it was one night, one thing you did in a lifetime of nights and things you did. It dawns on you just then that loneliness makes you fragile, fragile enough to push people away instead.

Every time you close your eyes, you’re still dancing with him on the rooftop below the stars that are yet to fade from your memory. You now pick wilting flowers at a wilted garden.

“A play?” you ask, confounded. Doyoung has never been one for theatre.

"Your mom said you liked theatre," Doyoung answers, eyes inquisitive.

"Did she now?"

He smiles. "If you've grown out of it—"

"No. No, I've always wanted to watch a show on Broadway."

"That's settled then."

You start to understand the meaning of this place to Ten. You haven't called him in years and you didn't keep in touch after the first year. Life was as busy for him as it was still for you and you understand some of it now. After all, who would ever want to leave this place?

Being a part of the audience runs a chill up your back, with certain memories drawing to the surface of your thoughts as you sink into the seat. It's a popular musical but you can't say you've ever heard of it. Time runs differently in your little bubble. 

It hurts just about as much as you expect it to. Watching Ten on stage hurts so bad you almost look away. The nostalgia scratches at your throat, filling your head with memories you shouldn't be entertaining anymore. You should've kept in touch. You should've done something. You were friends before everything else.

All you want from him now is forgiveness. You’re fine with loving him quietly. You’re fine with loving him quietly. You’re fine with—

You start to cry before you can do anything about it. Doyoung doesn’t notice beside you, dozed off already to the soft orchestral music.

You must seem delirious, mourning as though you’ve buried a loved one. With a shaky breath, you force yourself to look. It is the tombstone of your childhood love that stands on stage. You were rash. You were so, so young and rash. Your lips tremble again and you cry, chest rising and falling as you remember something so forgotten that it seems a dream, something so warm that’s now six feet under in the cold ground. You mourn.

But he seems happy—and that's all you ever really cared about. That's all you should have cared about.

The play ends on a wonderful musical note and you find yourself in better composure. Shaking Doyoung awake by the shoulder, you look at him expectantly. He seems partly embarrassed to have dozed off and partly apologetic.

"You want to meet Ten?" Doyoung asks quietly.

You blink in surprise.

"You grew up in the same town, right?"

"Yeah… Yeah, we did."

Doyoung smiles. "We went to college at the same place."

"Oh, I know. Most everyone from my town goes to college there actually."

Doyoung hums. 

"He invited me, actually," he says after a while.

"Oh."

It hurts only a little that he didn't invite you first. Did all those years mean nothing beyond a little romance? If you were years younger, you could be chiding him for it. If he were years younger, he would greet you with a Cheshire cat smile.

Backstage smells of sweat. A little perfume and powder but mostly sweat. You know that already. It's just that even the backstage here is grand. 

Ten looks as pretty as ever, even with half the makeup off his face. He looks as pretty as billboard posters, where he was meant to be, and in smiling Instagram posts and articles about how perfect his smile is. He's pretty but in a different sort of way.

Ten doesn't seem surprised. In fact, he greets the two of you with a poster smile. 

"Doyoung," he says first. "(Name). I hope, no wait. You guys better have liked that."

Doyoung laughs. "You'll bully me into liking it even if I didn't."

Ten rolls his eyes. "Law makes you so boring. Or maybe you were always boring."

Doyoung sighs, shaking his head. "Not everyone wants to be the life of the party. There's quite a bunch of wild stories about you on the internet."

Ten snorts. "I don't know why but you saying 'the internet' makes you sound thirty years older."

"There's no arguing with you, is there?"

"Learnt from the best."

You clear your throat. "If the two of you are done with your homoerotic banter…"

Doyoung chokes the same time Ten makes a gagging sound. What the two of them have in common is that they easily become flustered around you.

"I'm going to go wash my face." Doyoung excuses himself, exiting the backstage. 

In any other time or place, it would be fine being just the two of you.

"Ten," you acknowledge. "You look good."

"I always do."

You roll your eyes. "You don't have to mask everything with humour."

"Like you did?"

You fall silent.

“Does it hurt?” you ask.

“It does,” he whispers before raising his voice something more audible. “When I look at your—our old pictures, it does.”

"You've kept them?"

"Of course."

You look at your feet. The reality settles. You’re not going back to the way things were. You’re married to another man. Ten’s not in love with you anymore. If you had taken the step forward back then, if you had kissed him before he took that step back—would things have turned out differently? 

The stars will now gaze at lonely rooftops and empty flower gardens—an audience you never wished to entertain. But now, you're glad to have been part of his play, part of the play you made together.

“Are you happy these days?” he asks. There is no malice, no resentment in his voice.

“Almost,” you answer. “There’s just one thing missing.”

To ask for forgiveness does not mean erasure. You can't move on by letting it go and pretending it was never in the palm of your hand.

“I’m sorry it wasn’t me,” you say quietly, rubbing your forearm.

Ten smiles. “We were a little confused, I think. We wanted to be loved, appreciated and found the easiest way.”

You smile back. “Yeah. It was always easiest with you.”

Ten pauses, looking around with a familiar feline look in his eyes before whispering, “So, Doyoung? Really?”

You straighten, crossing your arms. “He’s really nice. And he’s always asking me how I am, what I ate, and he buys me all the soft toys I want. And he’s a better kisser, by the way.”

Ten places a hand over his heart in mock indignation. “Now, we both know that’s not true.”

You roll your eyes before a short giggle turns into chuckling into laughter, and the two of you find yourself with smiling eyes, the look of childhood on your faces and memories unkempt. 

It is better to grieve than to never have loved anyone enough to. 

It doesn’t hurt anymore but maybe it stopped hurting a long time ago. But it meant something to you, meant so much to you and that's all that makes sense now.

notes.

the words to the play at the beginning of act i scene i is taken from tang xianzu’s preface to his own play, the peony pavilion, however they are not exact quotations. the graveyard scene and the “when everything is gone, i want it to hurt” dialogue are inspired by indie game night in the woods by infinite fall studio and i love that game pls check it out if you have the time and money!!

#wayv x reader #wayv scenarios #nct x reader #nct scenarios #cznnet #neowritingsnet #nct ten x reader #wayv ten x reader #nct ten scenarios #wayv ten scenarios #nct fanfic #wayv fanfic #nct imagines #wayv imagines #nct ten imagines #wayv ten imagines #wayv fluff #wayv angst #nct fluff #nct angst #moonwrites #ok 20k+ never again gn <3 #it's so painful to write small towns bc even if im from one (almost) my brain is permanently in a busy bustling city

[uppastthejelliclemoon]

Uppast's Cats Tour Comments: Act 1

note: i'm referring to the cats by their show names, however I may use the actor's name for a specific comment!

Overture

They did this SO well! I definitely missed seeing the cast in the aisles, but they projected the green eyes onto the stage, and it was the perfect amount of creepy/weird/hypnotizing.

I absolutely love the lights slowly being raised while shining all the spotlights, it sets the vibe PERFECTLY

also saying this now: the orchestra was incredible!

Prologue: Jellicle Songs for Jellicle Cats

right off the bat, we’ve a super sweet Demestrap moment, with Munkustrap checking on Demeter after the car! It was adorable!

Devon's voice is SO good for Munkustrap, also the man is TALL OH MY GOD

Tugger didn't get his "can you say of your bite that it's worse than your bark" line, which I was a little disappointed about. However, Zach as Bill Bailey is absolutely 10/10.

Brianna… the babiest Sillabub… so precious... so small...

There were some Victor and Gus moments, with them either standing near each other or sharing looks/touches, so if anyone ships them, y'all got your rarepair moment!

THE BOOT WAS SO LOUD LMAO

They use the set so well!

The Naming of Cats

creepy, wonderful, everything I want from this number

A handful of the cats got right to the edge of the stage where the lighting was, so they were all glowing, and it was the BEST vibe.

Taylor was staring into my soul during the last verse so now I can say I've been vibe-checked by Coricopat.

Invitation to the Jellicle Ball

Hyla is the PERFECT Victoria!!!!! She's so incredibly graceful, she had the sweetest expression on her face, and ugh it was flawless.

Paul is also just an amazing Mistoffelees.

Munkustrap had literally the sweetest moment with Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer and I almost started crying. Right before Jennyanydots' song, when everyone's getting into place, Mungo and Rumple immediately went to Munkustrap and were cuddling his legs, and he gave them pets, and just oh my god T_T

Gumbie Cat

OKAY SO I ABSOLUTELY ADORE THE KITTEN SQUAD SO MUCH MY HEART

When everyone's setting up for Jennyanydots' song, after the nuzzles, the lights start to switch, and the kitten squad was trying to catch the lights on the ground while Munkustrap was looking at them with the fondest expression and i swear i cried a little bit over how cute they were.

SKIMBLE LOVES HIS WIFE SO MUCH AND WAS HELPING HER GET THE KITTENS INTO THEIR MICE COSTUMES

Plato, Alonzo, and Mungojerrie were great cockroaches, 10/10

The Gumbie Trio was so good! Their voices sounded amazing together, and they were all just having so much fun!

SO MUCH MAMA JELLY AND SON TUMBLE I FEEL SO HAPPY

I'm going to go more in-depth in my Kitten Squad post!

Rum Tum Tugger

The way Zach said "Who will it be?" was absolutely amazing, i loved it, 10/10 character introduction.

Jennyanydots stomped off when he interrupted her accolades, she was very upset.

Zach and Devon nailed Tugger and Munkustrap's sibling dynamic PERFECTLY, Devon was the best Tired Older Brother Munkus.

Yeah, this number pretty much confirmed Zach as my favorite Tugger.

Mistoffelees and Cassandra did some lounging together in the background on the car.

Chelsea's Bomba is absolutely *chef's kiss*, I adore her

Obviously Tugger and Mistoffelees did their little dance, and it was wonderful. I'm not sure if other shows had Mistoffelees do this, but he went between Tugger's legs at the end of his little solo and Tugger was just vibing.

MY FAVORITE MOMENT THOUGH had to be near the end of the song, Munkustrap was 100% getting into it, and Tugger went over to him and was teasing him, poking him, and it was the cutest brother interaction.

They did have the camera! Zach did some very Tugger poses, and it was great.

Grizabella the Glamour Cat

haha Tugger went to hide behind the metal bars on the furthest side of the stage away from Grizabella, I'm in ✨pain✨

Sillabub goes to touch Grizabella, Grandpa Skimble pulls her back and starts scolding her, I want to hug the baby.

No, but I did really love that moment. It's off to the side, but you can see him giving her a talking to, and she's trying to say something back, but he's very firm.

Mungojerrie egged George on to scratch Grizabella, George sweetie don't be mean.

Taylor has such a perfect voice for Grizabella, and I loved her look!

OKAY SO LAUREN AND CHELSEA'S VOICES

Lauren's voice is so smooth and suave, and Chelsea's voice has a little growl that almost made me pass out, like ma'am i'm in love? But their voices mixed together, as well as how slightly different they are was such a great choice, and I kind of hope that other future productions take note and have two actresses with vastly different vocals for Demeter and Bombalurina.

Bustopher Jones

Mistoffelees and Victoria go to great Bustopher together and it was the cutest thing, they were so excited to see him!

Munkustrap immediately grabbing Mungo and Rumple by the necks and steering the gremlins away from the Very Important Cat.

Tugger was keeping watch so Munkustrap could be silly with everyone else during Bustopher's number, and that's not something I'm forgetting. Usually, obviously, Munkustrap's sort of in the background, standing, watching, and not really interacting. But Tugger switched places, and was up on the scaffolding watching, and it was CUTE!

My Tuggandra crumbs, thank you Zach and Lexy, I'm indebted to you both.

Tugger literally was just lounging on the car during the end of Bustopher's song, just waving his arms around, and I love him.

Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer

Elana (Teazer for this show) had the PERFECT Rumple giggle!

They're so silly, I love them

They made the best facial expressions, especially when Mungo "stole" Rumple's pearls.

Very dramatic gremlin twins, jumping all over the place, not caring about anything!

They were so confident at the end of their song when they went to walk off, and immediately went into "oh shit" mode when Munkus, Plato, and Alonzo came out.

Run through the legs of Munkus! See Munkus, this is why you need to not stand with your legs apart when you're attempting to control kittens.

Old Deuteronomy

Saying it again, Devon and Zach are SUCH a good Munkustrap and Tugger.

The babies were so excited to see Old Deut! They could barely contain themselves, and then got cuddles! (Also Tanto was with the kittens and i love that for her, let her be a kitten!! I definitely got "big brother Cori/little sister Tanto" vibes)

Everyone's getting Deut nuzzles!!

Tugger did a VERY dramatic shimmy at his dad, and Deut laughed, and I cried.

Tugger and Munkustrap standing on either side of their dad!!!! He's so proud of them!!

Jellicle Ball

Sillabub was hiding on top of the oven before the Ball, sweet baby T_T

George got to sing with Old Deut!! Happy boy!!

TUMBLE FLIPS TUMBLE FLIPS TUMBLE FLIPS

Jennyanydots and Skimbleshanks being the Supervisors!!

There was a really sweet Jellylorum and Alonzo moment (def going to talk more about it in the Alonzo post), but my "Jellylorum is Alonzo, Tumble, and Pounce's Mom" hc is feeling SO VALIDATED TONIGHT

I've said this so many times, but I adore that Plato and Victoria get their own little solo before their Big Solo. It's so sweet, and Hyla and Adam have wonderful chemistry!

Tugger chases Bomba offstage before The Moment, and I love that for them

CUDDLE PILE!!!

Munkustrap and Demeter cuddled together in the corner away from the pile and I want to sob because they were just so sweet, her head was on his shoulder, and he was holding her, and literally everyone in this show has such good chemistry with each other.

Tugger looks up with the psychic twins during Grizabella's reveal, once again making me think that Tugger and Munkustrap have magic like their brother.

OH AND TUGGER DID THE STUPIDEST LITTLE DANCE WHERE HE WAS SHAKING HIS BUTT AND HAVING FUN AND MUNGOJERRIE LAUGHED AT HIM AND THEY HAD A MOMENT AND IT WAS GREAT

Memory

ouch ouch ouch

Jennyanydots blocks the stairs up to Deut's tire so Grizabella can't go to Deut, my heart

steering the babies away from Grizabella even though Silla wants to give her a hug.

Taylor you hurt me in the best way possible

I always get emotional over Grizabella's dance before her song, it's such a telling moment, but unfortunately I don't think everyone understands that it's supposed to be a serious moment and not funny.

Deut sits on his tire the entire song and it's HEARTBREAKING

At the very end, Grizabella does the reaching back, and Deut reaches forward, and if you're sitting in the right spot it looks like they're touching and i'm NOT OKAY

#cats the musical #cats us tour 6 #uppast's cats tour comments

[entertainment]

Entertainment Spotlight: Osric Chau

If you’re a fan of Supernatural or the Arrowverse, you probably recognize actor, producer, writer, director, and martial artist Osric Chau. He landed his first leading role in Kung Fu Killer in 2008, after spending years training in martial arts with aspirations to work in stunts. The following year Osric played Nima, the Tibetan monk, in the blockbuster film 2012, and he recently produced and starred in the film Empty By Design. On the television front, he played genius high school student pulled into the role of prophet, Kevin Tran, in Supernatural, and is currently starring as Ryan Choi in the Arrowverse’s epic crossover event, Crisis on Infinite Earths. Over the years, Osric has more than found a passion for acting and filmmaking. He still enjoys stunts, and has enormous appreciation of the skill and sacrifices involved but he'll settle with doing as many of his own stunts as a production will allow. Osric took time out of his busy schedule to answer some of our questions. Check it out:

With Supernatural ending this year, what is your favorite memory from the show (either on or off camera)?

First day, first episode. The beginning of it all. Met everyone. Got to do some running around as Kevin. And Jared became a father that night. Such a crazy time.

If you could have a conversation with Kevin Tran, what would you want to ask him and/or talk about?

I'd probably talk him into doing some physical training so he could be a hunter too.

You just produced and starred in Empty By Design. What did you learn from the experience? 

I learned that I'd been holding back my whole life. That I'd been limiting myself in what I thought I could or could not do and that there really isn't anything that I can't do with passion, hard work and a couple of good friends.

How would you describe the plot of Empty By Design to a five year old?

So Barbie lives in her house, right? (Child says yes) And GI Joe's always fighting some bad dudes so he's kinda homeless, but he lives in his truck, right? (Child says yes as well) Well let's say Barbie leaves her house and her family and goes to school for years. And one of the bad guys kidnaps GI Joe and keeps him away from his truck for years. And one day Barbie comes back to her house, but things have moved around and it's just a little bit weird, GI Joe escapes the bad dudes, and now he's back in his truck but his brother changed it to a stick shift while he was away and he doesn't know how to drive it anymore, and they bump into each other and talk about how weird it feels to be back home again even though they belong there. That's what Empty by Design is about. Can you tell I'm bad with kids?

What inspired you to make Empty By Design?

I needed to do something for myself. And I found some friends that did too. I asked my roommate Drea if she could do anything, what would she want to do? She said go back home to the Philippines. I told her to write a script about that. This was all happening while we were moving into our new apartment and after daily Ikea trips for a week, the words Empty by Design popped out of her mouth.

Do you have any fun facts about the making of Empty By Design that fans would be surprised to find out?

We flew to the Philippines with one way flights without a budget and we somehow managed to raise the money within the first two weeks there.

Can you walk us through an average day on the set of Crisis on Infinite Earths?

"What're we doing right now?" "Why are they in that costume?" "Wait what happened before this?" "My beard is so itchy..." "Okay this feels like Comic Con! Am I too excited right now?"

You wake up tomorrow morning as Ryan Choi in the middle of Crisis on Infinite Earths. What do you do?

I recognize I am not as smart as him but thankfully better trained and stupid enough to run in with full confidence. I limber up and try not to get in the way.

How does the making of a crossover event differ from the making of a regular episode?

Well for starters the crossover event was filming 5 episodes at the same time, so that in itself is a feat. Now on top of that, you're trying to use the same actors on all of those episodes so to coordinate which character which set and which show at all times and then you have other actors from other shows that you need to coordinate with as well. It was a logistical miracle that they pulled off. Hats off to everyone that made it happen.

What’s next for you?

I'm writing a script right now that I'm gonna co-direct with a friend. It's about my parents and I started writing it after the realization that they're actually real people and getting older. Weird thing to consider but that really scared me and I had to force myself to take the time to appreciate them while I still can. Doing a movie for them is my way of saying I love you, and thank you for putting up with me my entire life. And I'm also in talk with a good friend of mine to starting a vegetarian restaurant in Vancouver. I won't go into the ambition that i have for both of these but they're high haha, and they both bring me back to Vancouver more often which goes back to me wanting to spend more time with my family.

Thanks for taking the time, Osric! Give Osric’s Tumblr a follow right here. 

#entertainment spotlight #osric chau #empty by design #supernatural #crisis on infinite earths #kevin tran #ryan choi