Dedicated to @mirandaarenee for posting sad imagines.
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"Again, with feeling." This is the seventh take, and I can't say I'm enjoying it. "Just keep doing what you're doing, Mitch," Ruth directs. "Val, this isn't just a kiss. This is the final scene, the last impression people hold with them as they leave the theater. Kiss him like you mean it, like he's just returned from the war or something."
"You're good at this," I whisper to my costar. It's a complete lie, but she could use some encouragement right now. "This time, we're going to stare into each other's eyes, and we're going to wait for the perfect moment, no matter how long it takes." She nods and we begin again.
It takes four incredibly long minutes of intense staring and pretending I'm entranced by her boring, unambiguously blue eyes, but I survive. Val isn't as stiff this take, and Ruth is happy. We can move on. Even though it's the last scene in the movie, it's the one of the first we've filmed. We have a long way to go.
I arrive home late, and Alex is eager to find out about the dreaded kissing scene. "How did it go?"
"Awful. I get that she's uncomfortable fake-kissing someone who's not remotely into her and who's a lot older, but seven takes? Whatever. I'm glad it's over. Can I have a real kiss?" Alex obliges. "Thanks, honey. I'm glad that scene is out of the way. The rest was great, really productive. How was your day?"
"Typical. Breakfast, work, lunch, work, gym, dinner, TV."
"Speaking of the gym, I didn't get my workout in this morning. I'm grabbing my bag, and then I'm off." I exercise regularly now. It's expected, even though my character honestly has no reason to be even remotely built. He's not in the army, he's not an athlete, and he's not even the kind of guy who would bother with the gym, but he's the main character, so he has to be hot.
"It's almost ten. Take a day off." It's funny that now it's Alex telling me to take it easy. A lot has changed since the band broke up... a lot has changed since I left Scott. My hair is dyed black because they didn't think it was quite dark enough. It's grown out to a uniform length, a few inches, and it's kinda wavy. My tattoos are long gone, may they rest in peace, and my piercings are a thing of the past. I tried getting a belly ring so I wouldn't feel like a complete sellout, but it got infected and I gave up on it.
Hollywood makes me feel so old. I'm twenty nine, and already they're saying things like, "You're aging so smoothly." It's even worse for Val. She's barely even twenty one, and the makeup artists keep saying, "I'm applying anti-aging cream," and "careful not to smile too much off set; it gives you wrinkles." I, for one, will be proud of my wrinkles, and I'll be proud of my gray hair, and I'm especially proud of my smile lines. It's hard, though, I have to admit. Maybe I need to spend some time in Florida around actual old people to reset my standards.
Meanwhile, I have to stay in shape. "If I skip today, I'll end up skipping every day. My hours are gonna be like this, and worse, until we finish the film."
"I'll join you then."
"Easy, Hercules. Tomorrow, okay? If you work out twice a day, how am I ever supposed to catch up?" Yeah, no, that's not happening anytime ever. I'm not that built.
"You're such a hard worker. It's attractive." That's what he liked about Scott too.
"And you're hot. It's attractive."
"Thanks," he smirks. "Glad you value my personality."
"Anytime, gorgeous."
I grab my gym bag and a protein bar before heading out the door. "I miss you," he calls after me.
"Grab a book. You can read to me at the gym." Relationships aren't so hard if you're creative.
---
"Dorothy lived in the midst of the great Kansas prairies," Alex reads. I can't believe I thought relationships weren't hard. I really should have seen this coming.
Technically he's holding the book open, but it's at a funny angle because he insisted on spotting for me. He's doing a good job, with his hands ready to catch the bar and everything, which means there's no way he can actually read the words, which means he's actually reciting the whole thing. He barely glances at the pages as I lift through chapter one. Did Scott put up with this? Yeah, totally. He adored Alex. So do I, though. I have to admit this is a lot better than exercising alone.
I tune out the words and listen to the music on the speakers, deconstructing it in my mind. Adele is always fun to listen to. I feel kind of superior because it isn't complex or especially innovative, but the fact remains that it's powerful, plus she's fifty times more popular than I ever was, and, unlike me, she still gets to sing. I should have written something like this song, something people could listen to and really feel in their bones, not lofty intricate stuff that people can appreciate but never cry to. I wish I could still do that. I wish I could still write and sing, but I simply don't have the time anymore, and it sucks.
To add insult to injury, Scott's voice starts pouring out of the speakers. He's belting freely at the top of his lungs like I only ever do in the shower anymore. This song is from his first post-Pentatonix solo album, and it's absolutely the kind of music you feel in your bones. It makes Adele's breakup album sound happy.
"We can leave," I tell Alex.
"I'm over it. Let him be angry. I'm happy with you. He'll come around someday."
"We kind of wrecked him."
"I don't regret leaving him, Mitch."
"And I'm glad you did. I just still feel like a terrible person."
"He's sad, but that's his problem, not ours."
I miss when it was my problem. I miss when I made Scott happy. I miss when he brought all his troubles to me and I helped him. He thinks we cheated. He thinks I had the audacity to so much as look at his boyfriend while they were still dating. He was messed up and hurting from Pentatonix ending, but how dare he accuse me of that? It's not just that he accused me, it's that he actually believes it.
"I hope you're happy," he shouts at Alex in the song. "You'd better be, with what you did to me."
"Let's go home." The next verse is about me, and I don't want to hear it. That doesn't stop it echoing through my head, though. I know every note, every harmony, and every melody of every song on the album. I know every breath.
I never should have left.
