FAME's 99

027.

MYLANN
SCRIPT
REHEARSAL

3 weeks later.

I walk into the rehearsal room, script in hand, spotting the cast sprawled out on couches, chatting up the director and some crew. The vibe is super chill, everyone just easing into it. Drew's the first to see me, shooting me a friendly smile. We've been working on our characters' chemistry, so there's already this laid-back comfort between us. Timothée and Selena wave, and I give them quick hugs before settling in. The energy is so cool and relaxed. We're laughing, trading lines, and the vibes is just right—no stress, no nothing.

The director claps his hands, pulling everyone's attention.

—   Alright, fam! Let's dive in. We're kicking off with some heavy scenes, so get in that zone.

Everyone nods, settling to our spot, flipping to the right page, and the room shifts as we focus. It's quiet, but you can feel everyone gearing up. The first scene is an intense moment between my character and Drew's, where they're having this raw, vulnerable conversation.

The director steps in, setting the tone and leading us first.

—    Alright, Mylann, Drew, he says, pacing a little
as he explains the setup. This scene is heavy. Your characters are at that breaking point—vulnerable, raw, totally unfiltered. I want every line to feel like it's costing you something. Got it ?

I nod, feeling a little adrenaline kick in. Drew meets my gaze, his expression serious now.

—    Alright, let's run it ! Director says, stepping back.

I take a breath, getting into character. Drew shifts in his seat, setting down his script and locking eyes with me.

—    Ready ? He asks quietly, like it's just us here.

I give him a small nod, and it's like this silent understanding passes between us. The energy shifts, thickening, like we're the only ones in the room. The director catches our eye, gives a quick nod, and just like that, I'm fully locked in, my whole body slipping into that space where my character's emotions start bubbling up. I take a breath, softening my tone, letting that vulnerability bleed through every word.

My voice is barely above a whisper when I say :

—    I'm sorry... I'm not really feeling like myself lately. It comes out shaky, and I can feel this tightness in my chest, like I'm actually holding back something real.

Drew doesn't even blink, his eyes locked on mine, intense and steady, pulling me right into the moment with him. He lets the silence stretch, making it feel even heavier, and when he finally speaks, there's this pleading to his voice, but with a hint of anger too.

—    Then tell me what's going on. Stop ignoring me.

There's a rough edge to his voice, like he's desperate but holding back frustration. The words hit hard, and for a second, it feels real, like he's actually mad, and I feel this urge to apologize, to say something, anything to make it better.

I swallow, letting my own silence linger before I finally look back at him, feeling that same intensity mirrored in his eyes. It's like the room's disappeared, just me and him.

By the end of the scene, it's dead quiet. It's like everyone else held their breath with us, and the room is still, just soaking in that moment. Drew and I exchange a quick smile, a silent acknowledgment of the intensity we just shared. We both take
a breath, easing out of character.