35 ᴍᴍ ꜰɪʟᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ᴄᴏꜰꜰᴇᴇ I 🎀 𝒢𝓇𝒶𝒸𝒾𝑒 𝒜𝒷𝓇𝒶𝓂𝓈 [𝑔𝓍𝑔] 🎀

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴏ

Charlie-Wren sighed inwardly, feeling the weight of what she was about to do. She hadn't intended to call Gracie back. She hadn't intended to invite anyone into this space, into her head. But something about the way Gracie spoke—about creating something real, about being in the same place—had struck a chord in her. She wasn't sure if it was hope or fear that had made her yell after her, but now there was no turning back.

Gracie stood there, waiting, her eyes locked on Charlie-Wren as if she could sense something had shifted.

"Would you like a drink?" Charlie-Wren asked again, her voice softer this time.

Gracie hesitated for only a second before stepping out onto the rooftop again. She moved with an almost cautious grace, like she was walking into something fragile and wasn't sure if it would hold. As she reached the ledge, she sat down beside Charlie-Wren, her movements slow and deliberate.

Charlie-Wren grabbed two beers from the box and handed one to Gracie, who took it without a word, their fingers brushing for just a second. It was a small thing, but Charlie-Wren noticed it—a moment of connection, brief but exciting.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The sound of their beer bottles being opened, the hiss of carbonation escaping, was the only noise. Charlie-Wren took a long swig, feeling the cold liquid slide down her throat. The city stretched out in front of them, an endless expanse of lights and shadows, but up here, it felt like the world had shrunk down to just the two of them.

Gracie's eyes darted around, taking in the view, the quiet, the rooftop that Charlie-Wren had claimed as her own. But every so often, her gaze would flick back to Charlie-Wren, like she was still waiting for something. Charlie-Wren could feel it—the unspoken question hanging in the air between them.

"This is your spot, huh?" Gracie finally said, her voice low, barely above a whisper. There was no teasing in her tone now, just quiet observation.

Charlie-Wren nodded, taking another sip of her beer. "Yeah. It's where I go when I don't want to deal with people." She glanced at Gracie out of the corner of her eye. "Guess I'm making an exception tonight."

Gracie smiled softly, her lips barely curving. "I'm flattered."

Charlie-Wren huffed out a quiet laugh, then fell silent again. For some reason, it felt easy to be quiet around Gracie. Maybe because she wasn't filling the silence with empty words, like so many others did. She just sat there, waiting, letting Charlie-Wren take her time.

Charlie-Wren tapped the bottle against her knee, feeling the condensation drip onto her denim jeans. "You mentioned about me still figuring out my voice," she said, her voice hesitant, unsure if she was really ready to have this conversation. But once the words started, they didn't stop. "I've been at this for a while, you know? Acting, music... all of it. And it's like, every time I get close to something that feels real, it slips away."

There was a vulnerability in her voice, one she wasn't used to. Talking to strangers is always foreign territory, but tonight she wasn't silent like she would be. For once, she wasn't faking the emotions in her words. There was meaning to them. "So, I decided that no matter what I do, in the end, it means nothing if no one takes me seriously...Like, I'm not meant to play this game. And everything I've built for myself, or tried things that people would be too scared to even take the leap—to try and prove to everyone whoever doubted me, that I am not to be looked down upon. Now... I think that all my wishes are simply a pipe dream. Like it wasn't made for people like me."