Random Imagines (GxG)

Between Takes | Isabela Merced

The first time you noticed she wasnt acting anymore, the cameras were still rolling. The scene not quite captured yet.

The current scene being filmed is brutal. The heavy rain produced by machines hammered against the pavement. Fake blood dried dark against her skin.

The director calls for more desperation, more grief, more unravelling. Just for more everything.

And Isabela delivers. Of course she does. She always delivers, pushes herself to her limit and then some.

She falls to her knees in the middle of the street set, hands shaking, voice breaking in a way that makes even the boom operators swallow thickly, their mouths going dry at the performance.

"Cut!" A steady voice bellows and the crew erupts in applause at the performance.

But Isabela doesn't get up. You're already moving towards her before you quite realise it.

As an assistant director, you're supposed to manage the schedule, the energy, make sure things run smoothly, the mechanics of it all.

You were not supposed to notice the difference between performance tears and real ones. But you do. You could read her too well.

You step into the area gently, the cameras still focused on her. "Alright guys, let's reset for five," you call, voice calm but firm, "Give her space."

The crew disperses quickly with one look from you. The rain machine cuts out, the artificial storm dying with it.

Isabela is still kneeling on the wet ground, staring off into the distance.

You slowly crouch beside her, careful not to touch her without warning, not wanting to scare her.

"Hey." you say quietly. Not "Isabela" not "Ms. Merced." Just a simple hey.

Her breathing is uneven, mascara streaking down her reddened cheeks. For a second, she appears so young, so vulnerable. It makes your heart ache a little.

"I'm good," she whispers automatically, not taking even a second to think whether that is true at all.

You hand her a towel anyway, she was soaked with the rain. "Take your time," You whisper.

Her fingers brush yours as she takes the offered towel. You noted how cold her hands are.

This was not the first time you've been the one to ground her. But it was however the first time you felt it under your skin like this, the awareness that you shouldn't be the only one who notices these things. The way she struggles quietly.

---

You have worked with Isabela for three months now.

Long enough to know she thanks every PA by name. Long enough to know she memorises entire scenes in one night, not just her own lines, but everyone's. Long enough to know she pushes herself harder than anyone on set.

Long enough to know when she finally starts breaking from all that pressure.

Later that evening, you're still thinking about it. Worrying. As you're finalising call sheets, a soft knock rumbles against your office door.

You don't look up as you tell them to come in. You had a feeling it was going to be her as she opens the door.

She steps inside without the armour. No glam, no audience, no set. Just oversized sweatpants and damp hair from the rain machine.

"You cleared the set fast," she says lightly. Her tone was appreciative. "Thank you."

"It was scheduled anyway," You lie, giving her a half smile before looking back down to your work.