saudade | s.j.

thirty-eight

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Scarlett's POV

London's morning light filters through the tall windows of my hotel room, painting everything in a soft, muted glow. I sip on my tea, savoring the few moments of quiet. The UK leg of our press circuit feels both familiar and strange-like a second home, but laced with a new tension. This trip isn't just about work. It's about Y/N.

She and I have been navigating this fragile truce since Tokyo. We've started talking-really talking-but it's delicate, like stepping on cracked ice and hoping it doesn't shatter beneath us. Last night's dinner with the cast was lively, full of laughter and teasing, but I couldn't fully enjoy it. Not when Y/N's constantly been on my mind.

I glance at my phone. There's a message from Lizzie asking about lunch plans, but I don't answer. My mind is preoccupied with the fact that we have a rare day off today. No interviews, no photoshoots. Just a chance to breathe. Or fix things.

There's a knock at the door. My heart leaps, and for a moment, I think it's Y/N. But when I open it, it's Sebastian. "You look like you're about to fight someone," he says, leaning against the doorframe with a grin.

"Good morning to you, too," I reply dryly, stepping aside to let him in.

He plops down on the couch, looking far too relaxed. "Mackie and I are thinking of hitting a pub later. You in?"

"Not sure," I say, sitting across from him. My fingers trace the rim of my tea mug. "I might have plans."

"Plans?" His brows shoot up, and he smirks knowingly. "Plans with Y/N?" I roll my eyes but don't deny it. He's perceptive, too perceptive sometimes. "Look, if you're trying to fix things with her, just... don't overthink it," Sebastian says, his tone softening. "She cares about you, Scarlett. Anyone can see that. You just have to show her you care back."

I nod, his words hitting deeper than I'd like to admit. "Thanks, Seb."

He grins and stands, patting me on the shoulder. "Anytime. But seriously, if you don't join us later, I'm stealing Y/N for the pub crawl."

"Get out," I laugh, shoving him toward the door.

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A couple minutes later, I find myself standing outside Y/N's room, hesitant. My knuckles hover over the door, but I don't knock immediately. Instead, I take a deep breath, quieting the thoughts that have no business being this loud. Finally, I knock.

The door opens, and there she is. Her hair wrapped, like she's just woken up from a nap, and she's wearing a shirt that's far too big for her. A Natasha shirt. The sight does something to me-something I can't quite name.

"Hey," she says, her voice soft. There's no animosity, no guardedness. Just... calm.

"Hey," I reply, my hands stuffed into my jacket pockets. "Got a minute?"

She hesitates but then steps aside, letting me in. The room smells like her-fresh and comforting. I glance around, noticing the open suitcase on the floor, a book flipped upside down on the nightstand. It's so her.

"What's up?" she asks, sitting on the edge of the bed. Her tone is casual, but her eyes are searching, cautious.

"I thought... maybe we could do something today. Just us," I say, my voice quieter than I intend. "We've got the next few days off, and I thought it might be nice to, I don't know, get out of here. Away from the hotel."

Her brows lift slightly, and she tilts her head. "What kind of something?"

"There's this park nearby," I say, fumbling a little. "Richmond Park. I thought we could walk, maybe grab some lunch at a café. Talk."