STARRY EYES | mileven

one

being casted as her arguably favorite fictional book character and being minutes away from her first real table read should've made her feel like the giddiest person to grace earth.

instead it made her clutch on the toilet seat of the large building — with equally as large windows stretched all over it — where the table read is held and gag everything in her already empty stomach out.

definitely a nice way to start the journey of her first big movie role.

why she ended up in this position? let's call it overwhelming anxiety.

she was always anxious before her table reads, scared that they will suddenly realize that she isn't fitting for the role and fire her right on spot — or worse, mock her for the entirety of filming.

granted, it never happened.

that's why she could tame those anxious thoughts until now pretty well but this? this is different — it's bigger than anything she's ever done before.

this has the potential of being the role of her life, everyone is waiting for this.

and, well, the more she thinks of that, the more anxious she finds herself to be.

god, she really needs to shut those thoughts instantly out because she felt her stomach growing tighter again, a gag left her mouth and clenched her lungs.

"are you alright?" the soft knock on the door barely made her ears perk up, a masculine voice came from the other side but she had a hard time paying attention to it.

a flush out of embarrassment crept on her face knowing that someone else was standing right there and witnessing this.

she wiped her lips with some toilet paper, still crouching over the toilet. "i will be."

there was a momentary pause coming from the person, she was internally pleading that he left already because the situation was already bad as it is. she didn't need to add the mortification of knowing someone else is being a witness to this.

though his reluctant yet genuine voice was confirming to her that he, in fact, didn't leave yet.

"do you need help?"

she aimlessly shook her head even though he couldn't see her. "no, thank you."

"are you sure?" he pressed. "i'm not sure if i'm particularly good with people who are, you know, throwing up or something but i can try to help."

she frowned at the choice of words - does he even have a clue of what he's saying or is he simply meshing some thoughts together in order to seem helpful? "no."

"do you need anything? water?" if she wasn't feeling like shit, she truly would've applauded him for his persistency in trying to help her. "have you eaten anything to trigger your stomach today? because sometimes when i eat broccoli, i get the worst stomachaches and, y'know, find myself in your position. maybe you ate something that does the same to you..?"

his words almost made her laugh because of how lost he seems while trying to be empathetic. "no."

there was some silent rustling coming from his side, "have you eaten anything at all?"

well...

"no."

her vocabulary seems to have drastically shrunk since all that's coming out of her mouth is a 'no.'

"why not? this might be the cause for... this."

she almost groaned. "because the moment something comes in contact with my stomach, i'll definitely throw up."