just playing the part | scara smau

40 after party; epilogue

You exchange smiles and polite nods as you make your way past the staff and fellow actors backstage, clutching your award in your hands against your chest. There was residue sweat stuck on your face from the fluorescent lights of the arena and your mouth was dry from all the speeches you did. But you had your mind on one thing, better yet one person. Your fiancé whom you hadn't seen in a week due to opposing schedules was finally under the same roof as you and the night was nearing its end before he was swept away on yet another flight.

After what feels like a stressful eternity you finally spot a tuft of indigo hair in the distance making its way to sneak into a dressing room to get away from socializing. Typical.

You maneuver your way through, catching the door with your heel and slipping into the dressing room. You look around, it was barren. You narrow your eyes, had you gone insane from not seeing your lover for so long you were hallucinating him?

Just as you were about to turn around to leave disappointedly you felt a pair of arms snake their way around your waist and a firm chest press against your back.

"Hey," Scara greets, his chin on your shoulder as he plants a kiss on your neck, "Congrats."

You turn around, quickly wrapping your arms around him and going straight for his lips.

"You too," you grin, eyeing the trophy identical to yours with his name imprinted on it sitting by the mirror, "I had a running bet you'd cry on stage, you lost me a hundred."

"I can cry for you in bed later," he murmurs, his hands caressing your hips as his lips trail your jaw, "I don't have to leave until tomorrow afternoon."

"Good," you say, sliding your hands underneath his dress shirt impatiently.

"My mom was in the crowd today," he says against your lips, taking the trophy from your hand to set it on the table so he can gently press you against the dressing room door.

"Took her long enough," you smile before you feel the door behind you push against you in an attempt to open.

You and Scara quickly separate from one another and try to fix yourselves as your manager, Jean, walks in. She eyes Scaramouche's undone collar and your disheveled hair with a heavy sigh.

"No comment from me," Jean says, shutting the door behind her, "I've received the news."

"About...the project?" you ask, sharing a look with Scara.

"Yes," she smiles, waving her phone.

You and Scara had been trying to book a role in your ideal marriage location so you guys could finally tie the knot whilst working. But everytime something comes up to prevent it. Whether it be a last minute location change, you both having to film in different spots, or your friends not being able to fly in. It was torture.

"You guys finally got it," Jean announces, "The project starts next year. I'll leave you both to...celebrate in your own ways," she knowingly says, shaking her head as she slips out of the dressing room.

"It's finally happening," you grin the moment she's gone, squeezing his elbow and yanking him closer.

"Fucking finally," Scara sighs, letting himself begrudgingly be wrapped in a hug.

"You're stuck with me."

"Fuck you."

"Those better not be your vows!" you chastise.

"What do you want me to say?" he hums, pressing himself against your back to lower his lips to your ear, "You are the bane of my existence and the object of all my desires."

"Now you're just quoting one of your movie lines."

"I meant it though."

You bite your lip to fight the smile threatening to show itself on your face, a childlike bundle of glee in your stomach at his words.

"You want me so bad."

"Shut up."

"You mispronounced I love you."

"It goes unsaid, you already know I do."

.

.

.

୨⎯ THE END ⎯୧