Forever and ever 2. The adventure starts now.

Part 87.

Tom's pov~

"Alright, back to the starting position. Tom, you're almost there, but I need a bit more intensity from you. Right now, it seems like you're just worn out and annoyed, but your character is literally strapped to that chair. You want to be anywhere but in that seat—let that frustration show." My director demanded. I clenched my jaw, the rope starting to scratch at my ankles and wrist for as long as I've been tied to this damn chair. Six o'clock in the evening and I was still in the studio, repeating the same scene for the 23rd time.

I nodded, he took it in, and passed it on to the cameraman. On reset. With just a meter between us, the cameraman loomed, his massive camera aimed right at my face, intent on capturing every expression I gave. And so began take 24.

"You know, Zoran, I didn't originally want to capture you. But who knew that you would become such a big threat." Laughed my acting partner, pacing ahead of me in the dimly lit room filled with elaborate but fake technology. The name he used to address me, my character's name: Zoran Hudson. An incredibly astute and intelligent psychopath.

Now, it was my turn to play. No longer needing to immerse myself in the role, for like Zoran, all I wanted was to get out of here. Veins bulging at my neck, my face flushed crimson. I fixed my gaze on his figure with a steely stare, on the brink of taking the next step.

He continued reciting his lines in a provocative tone, his figure suddenly looming closer, forcing me to look up at him. Every angle perfectly set for the cameraman to capture me. Yet, the scratching of the rope on my wrists, coupled with all the non-existent noises around me which I somehow still perceived to be incredibly loud, reverberated so deafeningly in my mind, I couldn't pull myself together.

Maybe I got a little off script, but I didn't care. It would be my last scene for today and I was sure of it. I began to thrash in the chair, the wooden clatter echoing loudly throughout the room. Foam bubbled at the corners of my mouth, and time and again, I screamed, 'Let me go,' attempting to somehow inflict harm upon him, which, of course, was impossible.

Tears of rage welled up in my eyes and rolled down my cheeks, which were 100% real. I was done. After three days without sleep and unresolved arguments, I unleashed the pent-up rage, and the cameraman captured every second of it. Not a single word I spoke matched the script anymore.
"LET ME GO!" I yelled again. Squinting my eyes shut when I couldn't stop the tears. Even Dave, real name of my co-star, was deeply surprised, not knowing how to react yet trying to stay in his role.
After two minutes then, Rod yelled "Cut!" And the camera retreated from my face. Loud murmurs erupted on set, two assistants immediately freeing me from the chair. Another arrived with a bottle of water, and the next one approached with a towel to dab my face, a full-on service revolving around me.

"Thomas!" Rod yelled, as he rushed toward me, his hurried steps composing a cheerful entrance, as he flashed a satisfied smile. "Great performance you delivered there. So genuine and emotional. You nearly knocked me out of my chair." He beamed in amazement and put his hand on my shoulder. His accent was as strong as ever and I knew he wanted to have a longer conversation with me from the attitude he adopted. "I got goose bumps. Real goosebumps!" He said and showed me his hairy arm, which might have had a few goose bumps on it. But I didn't care. Good for him that he liked my performance, I just wanted to go home. "Now just one more sc-"
"Let me stop you right there. I haven't slept in three days, my eyes are about to give out, and with the amount of caffeine I've consumed, I'm certain my heart will race even in my sleep. So, please, give me some peace if you want me to deliver another performance like that tomorrow." I stated, and brushed past him. Today was absurd. The entire day felt like a battle for survival, every second an agony that seemed to stretch into eternity. And now, at 7 p.m., I could finally head home, only to come back in just 12 hours.
On top of that, every morning before showing up on set, I hit the gym. It wasn't easy, but still more enjoyable than being surrounded by idiots every second. Most of them weren't even the issue, but George and I clashed three times in the past few weeks, one of which I almost ended up throwing a punch if Harry hadn't been there.