𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 amidst the chaos of New York, Amelie navigates public scrutiny as she falls for a captivating forbidden movie star...
𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚
𝓼𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓮𝔂𝓮𝓼, 𝓷𝓸 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓽 𝓱𝓮𝓻
ᯓ★𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞...
The paparazzi screamed as she walked in her black mini dress and twiggy like makeup to the gallery opening.
It was Harlow's exhibition at the Louvre. A private viewing to the elite of Metropolitan society. She waved and smiled at them, with the bulbs flashing.
She saw Lily and Timothée on the red carpet together and she stood alone.
He kissed her cheek in his satin suit and her beautiful dress a similar hue.
They really were marvellous together.
She hastened her pace to find Low and Xavier. They found her instantly bringing her into a group cuddle.
"Oh baby you're here!" Low called out as paps grew crazy seeing her be so adored.
"Of course I wouldn't miss it. Not for the world." They walked arm in arm, the trio turning heads.
A few hours later Harlow was swept away by art collectors and Xavier prowling the room for a man he had seen on the carpet.
Amelie stood alone in front of a photo of her.
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On one of their nights out. She exhaled heavily and caught a glimpse of T and Lily walking around together, his hand on the small of her back.
She couldn't help but be jealous, and yet she smiled.
He was happy and that much he would always deserve, even if it wasn't her who caused it.
Lily kissed him on the cheek and left, leaving both of them alone - a couple of metres apart staring at two images of her.
He caught her eye and walked over in slow strides. Her heart picking up at the sight of the man.
"How are you feeling about everything?" He asked softly.
She smiled and sipped her champagne. "I'm excited to see it."
"Last day of filming tomorrow," he smiled but it looked like a frown.
"Yup," she sighed, "it's been lovely hasn't it?" She asked.
He nodded. "It really has." She put a hand on his shoulder.
"I better get some rest before tomorrow." She excused herself.
He chased after her. "Amelie." He called out.
She turned on her heal hastily.
"I'm going to miss you." He smiled.
She nodded. "I know."
He was surprised she didn't say it back but she knew if she did she might say something else as well.
"Good night." He called after her.
She saluted him as she kept walking. It made her embarrassed that she had and she could hear him chuckle as she made her way to the metro.
In the morning she threw up. Her nerves getting the better of her. She wrapped up in a trench coat as rain chucked it down outside.
Listening to Elvis in the car and letting a few tears run down her cheeks. Timmy had waited for her to arrive but she said nothing running to her trailer. He stood in his rain coat, hands in pockets - stunned at the sight of her so upset.
When she returned from the trailer, her smile was painful to see. Forced and broken.
They stood both in costume but Amelie couldn't get into character. They stood in the rain, the lighting harsh and cold. A blue hue washing over them.
"You have to go?" She asked. Paul bought her to him in a strong embrace.
"I'm not the one who's leaving, Francis." He whispered his hand on the back of her head.
When she pulled her away you could see her cheeks glistening with tears and rain water.
Her mascara smudged under her eyes.
"Maybe we can see each other again? Maybe you'll come back some time, wouldn't that be nice?" Amelie smiled.
Paul shook his head. "I can't see you again, I'm sorry. You know she's waiting for me." He chewed his cheek.
"Why do you have to marry her?" She held his face. "Marry me." She whispered.
Paul shook his head and took her hands off his face. Her fingertips brushing her cheeks.
"I love you Francis. I do. But we're not right. You know that don't you?" He kissed her hand.
"Why?" She called out as he walked away.
"We're from different worlds. Different times. Different lives." He called back.
She rushed to him, the camera following her and she kissed him. It was not scripted. But it was perfect.
All the love and passion and heartbreak in the world filled into one kiss. The kiss of death. Death of hope.
"Je t'aime Paul." She held his head to her forehead, he kissed her back - lifting her up.
"You crazy girl, you're too young. Darling, you will have everything you want I am sure of it."
"But I won't have you." She whispered, running her hands through his hair.
"You'll always have me." He kissed her. Turning and walking away, off set.
The camera kept rolling and zoomed into Amelie sobbing. Her arms wrapped around her mackintosh, trying to console herself. Then she looked up.
Straight into the camera lense. Breaking the fourth wall. It was not what was supposed to happen, but it was an ode to French new wave cinema and it was soul crushing.
To see just a girl, alone, crying in the rain - lipstick blurred from the last kiss of love.
The clapperboard slapped shut and yet she walked off still crying.
She got her things from her trailer quickly and hailed a taxi.
Timothée rushed over to her. "Are you okay?" He asked concerned. Amelie nodded and smiled yet tears continued to blur her vision.
"Yes," she breathed, "just don't want this to be over." She got into the taxi and smiled at him through the window.
"I love you." She whispered as it drove away.
She didn't know Timothée had seen her lips curl into those tender words. And she didn't hear him say it back to her, alone on the pavement - staring at where she had once stood. Longing.
Some day. He kept saying to himself.
What a fool I am, Amelie thought, it was never. It was never a some day, it was always impossible, she said to herself.
She said it to herself all the way back to New York.
