Forever and ever 2. The adventure starts now.

Part 139.

Tom's pov~

It felt like darkness engulfing every corner of my soul.
Y/N was crazy if she thought I would open the door for her now. The knocking on the wood seemed endless, even though I had told her at the hospital earlier that I didn't want to see her. And I meant it. My insides were twisted, and I felt the boiling anger surging out of me whenever she was near. I couldn't keep still, couldn't touch her or even look at her.

"Tom, damn it, open the door dio mio," Rod's voice echoed down the hallway. His accent instantly giving him away, his tone not sounding pleased. Perhaps it had something to do with me not being on set on Wednesday. Or Thursday. Or today. But as long as it wasn't Y/N, I didn't care who walked in. I opened the door to my apartment, giving him a lopsided smile.
"What's up Roddy Rod?!" The gap was wide enough for him to step in, although his initial reaction was to scrunch up his face, his gaze falling on the object in my hand.

"Don't tell me you drank all that today?" He nodded towards the nearly empty wine bottle in my hand.

"Oh no," I shook my head. "All within the last hour." I declared as he shook his head.

Rod headed towards the kitchen island after that, brushing past me and looking around. The ceilings seemed too high for him, the darkness of the city overwhelming him.

"Are you here alone?" He sniffed.

"Yeah."

"Respect." Respect for what? He glanced at the scattered beer bottles, over to the overturned antidepressants that I had given up on since Tuesday.

"Well, you're not making it easy for me to stand up for you, Thomas," he scratched his head, taking a sharp breath. Something was off, so I sank into the armchair to listen to him.

"What do you mean?" I questioned, taking a sip out of the almost empty bottle.

"You've been canceled."At this point, I was drunk. Maybe even so much that my words didn't make much sense, but I could still hear pretty well. Yet, I seemed to be sure I misheard.

"What?!" I questioned immediately. Because if I understood correctly, then... it meant I lost my job. In any other job, I wouldn't have cared, but as an actor, it meant everything to me. If you get fired as an actor, it means A: you won't be booked again, and B: the whole world knows you're impossible to work with. Especially if they have to cancel you mid-filming. My bad reputation would spread around the internet like a fucking virus. That couldn't happen.

"Stop drinking so much, and maybe you'd understand," Rod threw his hands up in agony, massaging the spot between his eyes.

"Rod! Please— you can't do this," I flew up, despair evident in my words. "I have the lead role—"

"No discussion, Holland. It's already been decided," he must have been damn well lying. He couldn't possibly mean it. But damn, if it was just a bad joke, then Rod was almost as good an actor as I was.
"But why?!" What had I done wrong? Because I didn't show up for two days? I was the easiest to work with on set. I showed up an hour earlier than the other actors—even if I had to—I didn't treat anyone poorly—unless they deserved it—and I was the last reason for retakes! Fuck Rod- what does that mean?!

"Thomas, you punched your co-star—"
"But he started—" I spoke up.
"It doesn't matter! You got physical. You've been drinking all day, and don't think we haven't noticed it on set." He pointed his finger in my face, threatening me to interrupt as if I didn't know any better.

"I told you from the beginning, get yourself together, boy, or we'll replace you."

"BUT I DID!" I did, didn't I? I got myself together. I gave that damn role everything. My last strength.

I pounded my chest, my voice rising, which Rod didn't appreciate. "I DID, ROD!"

"Calm down, big guy."

"NO! You can't do this!" I slammed my palm down on the kitchen island behind him, caging him in. "It's not fair." And I stood by my words.

"It's your own fault." He placed his hand on my chest, trying to push me away from him and regain control, but these news just took my breath away.

"FUCK NO, IT'S NOT. You're all fucking assholes, do you know that?"

Rod stumbled back, but I didn't stop. "I only fought back because that son of a dick hacked into my phone."

"What's no excuse for getting physical."

"HE LOOKED AT NUDES OF MY WIFE." I yelled. I spoke the truth. I opened up to my own manager. It still wasn't enough for him.

"I don't need to know that." But he should. I was just expressing myself, trying to explain to him what was going on. But why was I even doing that? The realization hit me all of a sudden. I came back on my feet, my heartbeat calming down.

Couldn't he see me? I was blind in one eye, had multiple lacerations across my face, a busted lip, and a broken rib.

"What about him?" I asked. Wasn't George going to get punished? What about his friends?
"George?" He questioned. I nodded. Of course.
"He will also be further excluded from the project." Further excluded?! So they have not yet utterly made a decision?!

"And what now? How do you proceed without me?" We were too deep in—they were too deep in—to start the film again.

Rod shrugged, his feet seemingly glued to the ground.

"We'll have to figure that out." He stated. When was it even decided that I couldn't be involved anymore? Did everyone sit down together? And who even was everyone? The director? Assistant director? Did the camera department have a say too? Wouldn't my acting coach even lose his job? What about my agent?

"Rod, please. You can't do this," I pleaded with my manager one last time. He had all the say in the matter. He had to be able to get me out of this mess.

But all he did was shake his head.

"I tried, kid. You've lost your chances," he patted my shoulder out of pity as I tried to gather my thoughts. It was impossible.

"I didn't mean for this to happen," I whispered, my gaze fixed on the ground a few feet away. I didn't mean to offend the team, let alone get physical. I didn't mean to show up drunk on set, and I didn't mean to fail my marriage either. There was so much I didn't mean to happen, and now I had officially hit rock bottom.

"The production will cover your accommodation for another two weeks, and your return flight will be refunded," he offered, but I couldn't care less. I had the money to buy whatever I wanted. I just didn't want to lose this role. This couldn't have happened.

Rod took his jacket from the kitchen island and was about to leave when I stopped him, tears threatening to fall.

"Rod?" I asked, he turned around, interested in my words which amounted to nothing more than a simple apology. "I'm sorry." I knew how much Rod believed in me, even more so how much he had advocated for me over the past few months. Just for me to disappoint him. My hands trembled by my sides, wanting to ball them into fists to stay strong.

Rod nodded. "I know."