Lights! Camera - ; Tyrus

Scene 10

Cyrus

I didn't mean it.

That should be put out there before I tell you what has been happening all week.

I didn't mean any of it.

Yet everything following looks like I did.

TJ Kippen did show up to work all of last week, unfortunately he is the lead, so that was almost everyday. I guess I did mean that.

He did the scenes perfectly well, he was great at them. Except the fact that his eyes were lying the entire time, his eyes were deceiving everyone watching. His usually, bright, energetic, gorgeous eyes were a cloud of murky green that overlooked his character.

I did that.

And I guess that made me feel even more at fault. Too be honest, I felt so sick to my core I could barely talk all day.

But when TJ Kippen messed up a line, or did the wrong direction, through no fault but mine for making him do the difficult scenes, I would promptly yell at him, or make incredibly rude remarks about it.

I didn't mean it. I swear.

For every time I did, something inside my heart twisted and my stomach threatened me with lurching. But nothing was worse, nothing, than the look on his face afterwards.

I want to cry, but I fear what I've said has completely rid me of emotions other than disgust.

On Friday, after four poisoning days of my own demise, Jonah comes up to me and pats me on the back. "Are you okay Cyguy? You look like you're gonna be sick."

"I already am sick, Jonah. Can't you tell?" I collapse on the table I propped myself on with thousands of pages of dialog, snippets of TJ.

"Shouldn't you go home then? I don't think you want anyone on set to catch what you have."

I tilt my head and look up and him, throughout the week of my misery I cared nothing for my appearance, therefore the dark stubble growing around my face shouldn't be a surprise. But the feeling still catches me off guard as it scratches against a page.

"It's not that kind of sick, Jo." I reply tiredly. Jonah scrunches his nose, thinking for a second, I'm tempted to explain it to him, but my brain feels like cotton and not getting irritated is hard enough.

"I think you should come to mine's than. It should make you feel better." He says.

I huff, but it comes out as more of a pathetic sigh, "Jonah, I don't really want to go anywhere right now. And I'm not in the mood for one of your parties."

He smiles, "this isn't a party Cyguy, I swear. In fact, I think it will be beneficial."

I love Jonah in the most platonic way possible. He basically helped me be who I am today, and the way he looked at me just then made me think that I should go with him. Which is the only reason that I respond with:

"Okay, sure. Let's go."

🎬

"Welcome to Cassa Wonah!" Jonah flings his door open with such strength and confidence I'm surprised it doesn't fall of it's hinges.

"I think you said that wron...." I stop mid-sentence when my eyes scan around the room.

It isn't a party.

It's an apartment full of my friends.

And they're all smiling at me.

"Cyrus!" Andi tackles me with a hug, almost spilling her glass of fizzy liquid, she's not that much shorter than me, but the height difference still catches me off guard. It's just been so long.