Who Is Who? (Cate Blanchett x Female OC)

"Pressure"

Everything I write is pure fiction and has never happened in reality. I merely enjoy playing with people and characters by putting them in different scenarios. Besides, it's a way I cope with obsessions.

All errors are mine

Chapter Six

A day, maybe two, slid by. Neither Dabby nor Cordelia talked, but it was normal by then. Any sound in the apartment was a disruption.

They lived in silence, but Dabby wished Cordelia would talk. She wished she'd tell her anything - something. The girl was so confused by the things Cordelia was doing, by how she was acting. She could never read her right. If she did - and she rarely did - it was blind. It was something she guessed because Tom or Cate accidentally slipped something. Tom or Cate...but not Cordelia.

Dabby hated the silence. Meanwhile, Cordelia couldn't catch a moment without some voice in her head.

Cordelia looked like she was in space each day. Like she was an astronaut on earth, dreaming about the stars and the moon, and the beautiful planets that covered their universe. The beautiful void that asked to be sucked into. It was compelling, to be an astronaut. Too bad she wasn't.

The brunette turned to escapism then. Often she dissociated. Often she wrote how things could be different. How she would make them different, how she would change the past in ways that would alter the future. How if time travel was real, she would've never gone to that birthday party. She wrote what she'd say to her twenty-year-old self. What she'd do if she could do anything.

Cordelia often wrote. Wrote and erased, wrote, and erased, wrote, and erased. Because she could never come up with a reality that was perfect for her. A reality, where she could be herself again without fears and pain and voices in her head. A reality, where the end wasn't from a drama movie. Where everything was calm, where everything was perfect.

But Cordelia couldn't come up with anything 'perfect'. Perfection didn't exist and so one couldn't make anything ideal. It made her so mad. It made her so, so mad. All because she knew that her own motion picture was never going to be the perfect Hollywood movie. It made her mad because a happy reality didn't exist. That's why the end was always called the end, right?

Even with her newfound hobbies - or rather ways of escapism - Cordelia kept herself tight and never failed to arrive on set. She might've looked bad; with the dark bags under her eyes and her seemingly infinite thermos of coffee. But she was never late.

Cordelia looked bad and that didn't pass anyone's eyes.

Everyone tried to ignore it. Everyone knew that Cordelia would never appreciate their concerns as she never did. She could be too ignorant and selfless at the same time for her own good. Everyone knew to keep their mouths shut until five, six days slid by with Cordelia's tumbling emotions out of hand and dark circles around her eyes. They never went away.

Everyone tried to ignore it until their worries became too harsh on their own souls. They had to say something.

The first to break the ice was, surprisingly to everyone who kept their eyes on Cordelia, Jasper - that hyperactive boy who was just sailing into the acting industry. There was no surprise he didn't know the ways they lived by.