Overkill // Joseph Quinn

8- jab

There's only about a week before I leave to Atlanta for the table reading. My mind has been a whirlwind of thoughts since the moment they casted me into the show. I feel like I should be nothing but happy, but I'm not surprised that I still have doubts about going into this.

My parents have never really supported the decisions I made in life. Whether it was the little short films I'd create or music I'd want to perform to them. They would show little to no interest in my hobbies solely for the purpose of them thinking they were only hobbies. When they found out I was moving out to L.A before even considering college, they were irate. Not irate in a way they were yelling at me and telling me how disappointed they were, irate in the way they'd ignore me and leave shitty remarks about how unsuccessful I would be. When they ended up finding out they were wrong, they were still never adamant about telling me they were proud of even apologizing.

I don't even know if I want to tell them I got casted into a successful Netflix series.

I should feel excited to tell them, feeling the anticipation of their congratulating, but I just don't know if they'll give me the reaction I want. My expectations for going onto this show are high, with how much Jo talks amazingly about the cast and the experience, but they're also hung low knowing how easily I shut down when I'm around new people. Especially people who have grown up with each other and are familiar with each other.

What if they decide they don't like me and take me off in the middle of the season? What if they hate me so much that they kill me off right off the bat?

I wish I never got this role. It's done me more bad than it has good and I'm not sure if I can even keep up with everyone. I don't even have a manager or agent or any sort of professional acting experience, how the hell did I even get casted?

My phone rings. I flinch at the noise that didn't pertain to my thoughts, for a second I was completely consumed and thought it was my new reality. I sighed, picking up the phone that I had barely used in the past two weeks.

"Hello." I spoke, plopping myself back onto the couch I've been stationed at.

"What are you up to, today?" Jo's voice was now apparent to me after not even looking at the caller ID.

"Laying with Dix." I responded shortly, paying no mind to the fact he was about to scold me for doing nothing once again.

"I need help with something, come over?" He shuffled around over the call seeming somewhat frantic.

"Sure, is everything alright?" I sat up from my laying position on the couch and scratched the back of my head. I've known Jo for almost 3 years now and not once have I ever seen or heard of him being in distress.

"Yeah, I just can't find these notes I wrote down. I just had them yesterday!" The sound of papers scattering across the floor had now sent him over the edge.

I almost wanted to laugh at this, I don't really know how to deal or react to him being in this state.

"I'll be over in a bit, don't lose your shit too much." I let out a small laugh but he didn't find any of it funny. He huffed out a frustrated breath and hung up after replying quickly.

Jo's house was only about 10 minutes from my apartment. I always wondered what it was like never staying in one place for a long period of time. Jo would be home in L.A for certain amounts of time then off to a different state or city with the show and touring for his music. I had never been on a tour before, which is partly my fault for never expressing the fact I wanted to solely base my career off my own creations.

It's been a while since I've been at Jo's place, we were either at my apartment or out in the city somewhere. Everything still remains the same though. He's always been one for a modern outside and intricate inside, just like himself. The outside of his home is classic and clean, while the inside always remains filled with different colors and art pieces or music records all over the walls. I've always loved it, I couldn't deny that.