hardzello time!

first take

ben's pov

Oh, wow. 

     I took one long, sweeping glance around at the behind-the-scenes area of the set. All the people busily moving around it to their respective duties, it gave me a sort of back-minded anxiety that I wasn't where I was supposed to be or that I had a job to be doing.

     We were at Bovingdon Airfield outside London, a few shaded tarps dotting the general area. Nearby was a massive stage, set with all of the props and instruments in place for the upcoming filming. As Rami would tell you (or rather, all-knowingly inform you at first chance) nowadays in any interview, we had filmed the Live Aid scenes on the first day- thanks, directors. No pressure, only one of the largest and most extravagant concert performances of all time right off the tee. Hell, my biggest role before this was on a bloody soap opera. And now, my itty-bitty step up, a worldwide brand-name film about one of the most iconic performers in the history of rock. Like I said, no pressure whatsoever.
     There were a lot more people on set than I would have expected, and it seemed like all of them had their eyes on me. I knew this wasn't true, but I would have certainly been more comfortable if there was another nervous actor to make smalltalk with. Just standing around like this was starting to make me feel like I was in the way or being a nuisance. I at least wanted to look busy.

     And that's when he crashed into me.

     I was suddenly jolted sideways from the impact of another body and stumbled off my feet to the ground with a rough thud, barely catching myself with my elbows. Wincing from the dull ache that now found itself arising in my side, I squinted crossly on the grass up through blinding sunrays to see who had just attempted to piledrive me. 

joe's pov

     Did I really just do that?

     I immediately felt hot embarrassment rise up in my face. Well done, Joe, first day and you've already broken someone's arm, I thought. Reaching out an open palm to help this poor guy up, I apologized in a rushed and panting voice, "Oh God, I'm so sorry man, I didn't see where I was going and-"

     I trailed off once I actually got a good look at the person I had just run into. He was wearing a white longsleeve button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, biceps clearly accentuated through the fabric as he held himself upright on the grass. His hair was wavy and blond, with messily cut bangs that fell just right around his squarish, sharply-cheekboned face. He had pale eyes that were just barely visible through long eyelashes and a hard squint. He was clearly already in costume for the shoot, but damn, that did not make him any less visually stunning.

Holy shit.

Who gave you the right to be that.. that.. 

"Uhh.. you good, mate?" 

     I snapped back into reality. "Oh, um- yeah, yeah, I'm good.. Sorry, heh-" I chuckled nervously, lamely trying to fill the tense silence. "-I was in a bit of a rush.." 
     "I could see that," he said, taking my hand I had offered and heaving himself up onto his feet. "Hey," he started, after blinking a few times and studying my features in a way that made me really wish I'd spent more time washing up this morning, "you're.. Mazzello, right? To play Deacon?" 
     I nodded, and suddenly felt a pang of guilt. I hadn't even seen this man's face before, let alone known his name and part in the film. "Call me Joe. And, um.. sorry, you are?"
     "Hardy, call me Ben. I'm playing Roger." He added.
     It was just now that I really started to notice that deep, gravelly Northern voice. God, that accent. The type one could only dream to have crawling up their back and around their neck like a serpent. I shook myself.
     "You play drums?"
     "Heh, now I do. Being honest, when I first applied for the part, I couldn't even hold a drumstick right. I'm no Taylor, but at least I can play enough to look semi-ok on film now." He grinned at the ground for a second.
     "Same here," I said, easing out of my embarrassment steadily, "I've been taking bass lessons for the past few months."
     There was a painful quiet as both of us tried to think of what other nonsensical smalltalk to make up. I scratched the back of my neck, and desperately foraged my mind for any relevant subject to talk about. And then, thank all things holy, Ben broke the silence.
     "You nervous, Joe?"
     I let out the strangled, nervous laugh of a person who's been holding their breath for 10 minutes and was just surprise-tickled. "Am I? Only about to film one of the biggest concerts in history." While also alongside one of the most beautiful men I've ever met.
     "That's exactly what I thought!" He made an exasperated hand gesture. "But hey, at least you won't be in front of the man himself," Ben said drolly, tilting his head towards a scruffy-white bearded man with sunshades who was sitting in a folding chair near the stage. He was reading what looked like the script.
     "I suppose. Hey, you'll do great," I said, clapping him on the shoulder and wondering if it was too much. Ben didn't seem to care.
    "Cheers. And, hey, you too. If you've still got it from Jurassic Park, that is," he joked. I laughed, mildly embarrassed that he knew one of my most iconic roles off the top of his head and I could barely even recall any of his filmography. 
     "I've got to get to my dressing room," I said, awkwardly straightening my hurriedly-thrown on crewneck shirt. "I guess I'll see you on set?" 
     He nodded, and turned around to leave. I started walking the other direction and paused.

"Hey.. Ben?"

     The blond stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder at me. "Yeah?"

"Good luck."

    And it might've just been the afternoon sunbeams, but I could've sworn I saw him smile.