Pictures of You

4 - Trust

It's hard to believe this is her face flickering over the screen because only about a year ago, she never would have let anyone film her like this. Let alone add more than one camera and put it all up on the big screen. Although it's really been more than a year and this whole movie only seems to exist as proof of that.

Now if Bradley could stop glancing over to read the reactions on her profile, that would make watching this a lot easier. Her lips quirk up into a smile, and this is partly to see if he'll say anything, but he only tenses like he forgot to turn the stove off.

But instead of getting up and rushing over to the kitchen again, he clears his throat. "We can stop before we get to the end."

So this is what his worried face is about. Admittedly, she's never been very good with sad endings.

"No spoilers."

"I know you've seen the Judy Garland version of this movie multiple times and-"

Stefani lifts her finger to his lips, stopping him right there. "What do I have to do to get you to shush." He blanks for a second, for one thing forcing his mouth to stay shut and for the other, unsure if she'd really like for him to answer that because he could come up with a few ideas. "And I've seen the Streisand one, too."

Bradley shifts as she pulls her hand back to tap a silent rhythm out against her leg and he reaches for his phone again, deliberately shoving away the notification without looking too closely.

No pressure. That's the most important part. Never mind how much he'd like to lean over and press a kiss to her temple and remind her of how the day had ended after filming that scene in particular.

A very nostalgic part of his brain suddenly forces him to bring back the first time they'd sat exactly like this. They had spent that evening at her house, though, trying not to disturb his girlfriend with what she'd called their antics. Pushing that conflict even further out of view, he'd felt incapable of keeping that respectful distance and had sat down too close right next to her on the white couch in her living room while she'd searched for a song to play for him.

Staring at her like an idiot had come too naturally, completely enthralled by how much drive and personality could fit into a tiny person. Hunched over to see the screen of her phone better, he'd caught a glimpse of that message from her boyfriend - and then he'd learned much more about that than he ever wanted to know without asking.

One hand had ended up on her shoulder, the other helplessly holding onto the fabric of his jeans that were turning out to be too warm while she talked about opportunities that were missed (or rather, his opportunities) and how things weren't always fair to her either, so why now, would she have to mend those for others?

She'd huffed softly as he'd carefully drawn her closer, fingers restlessly etching over her bare collarbone and searching for that other noise that hadn't come. She hadn't pulled away or even paused her explanation of how things weren't going well but she was determined to make this one work.

So this feels like an uncomfortable sort of one-sided déjà vu. It's obvious she's not even allowing herself to consider the possibility - and he's never watched an innocent movie in an atmosphere this loaded. They don't get very far either. She startles when she spots her sister in a frame and that's the first time her gaze flicks from the screen to him, her eyes strangely red like she's been rubbing at them.

"Looks like I smeared my life all over your movie."

"That's part of what made it good. That you weren't passive and brought yourself and your experience. Couldn't have done it without you. I'd never directed a movie before; I was terrified."