(500) days of him - timothée chalamet x oc

day (16)

I had at least 3 hours left of work to do and I was starting to get a headache. Per my roommate's suggestion, I had been camped out in a small coffee shop down the street from our apartment. It was a blustery day in New York, resulting in me shivering whenever the door scraped open and emitted a gust of cold air. I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to alleviate the building pressure behind my eyes. Just finish these next couple of pages and then you can call it a day.

It had been in the works for a while, but I was officially recruited to help with the screenplay of an upcoming Netflix film, titled The King. It was still in the early stages of development, but I was hired almost immediately after the completion of The Shape of Water. The producer, director, and several screenwriters had been working together to develop a running script, just something to stir the pot. Although I was still an associate screenwriter for this job, I was given more responsibility, my boss wanting me to focus in on the writing for a particular character named 'Hal.' To my knowledge, the director had been running private auditions, the cast still heavily under wraps, but an official meeting to run through a rough draft of the script was set for later in the week.

I knew the general premise of the film, but was lacking inspiration as I didn't know who was playing my specific character. I had put out feelers to see if they were any closer to nailing down actors, but was met with radio silence. I rubbed my eyes in frustration, stuck on a particular scene for the past half hour.

"God dammit, Hal," I muttered under my breath, angrily deleting my last typed line. How was I supposed to write the words of a character that I didn't have access to. I was itching to pick Hal's brains, reading up on as much history as I could regarding King Henry V's reign. The historical accounts were sparse, but at least it gave me some idea of what to write about. I shut my laptop with a sigh, figuring I needed a break. My brain felt like mush as I stood up and walked to the bar, ordering another coffee before sitting back down at my table.

All of my stuff was overflowing onto the tables next to me, making it look as if I was taking temporary residence in the shop. I usually only brought the essentials with me when I worked away from home, but I wasn't sure what I would need today, so I brought way too much. I murmured a 'thank you,' when the barista placed a mug of coffee on the table, reaching to tear open two packets of fake sugar. I felt my phone buzz as I poured the sweetener into my coffee, crumpling the wrappers and reaching for the device that was buried somewhere in my purse.

Joel Edgerton

Meeting got pushed up. 3pm.

I quickly typed back a response, glancing at the time as I did so.

"Fuck!" I yelped, realizing I only had 15 minutes to book it across the city. I shoveled loose papers and my laptop into my bag, hastily throwing on my woolen coat before I booked it out the door. There was no way I would get there in time if I took a cab, the street overflowing with traffic despite the time of day. Typical New York. I groaned when I realized the nearest subway station was on Canal and I was all the way over on Greenwich. I did what any person would do who was running late for a very important meeting: I ran.

I must've looked like a psycho as I rushed past people milling around on the sidewalks, nearly wiping out on a patch of ice as I skidded around a corner. After what seemed like hours, but was only minutes, I saw the station. I pushed my legs harder, trying to ignore the sweat trickling down my back and the strap of my bag digging into my shoulder. I slid into a semi-empty car just before the doors slid closed, breathing a sigh of relief. I was only going to be a few minutes late.

At 3:02 I jumped off of the subway, booking it up the stairs and towards the studio. I burst through the large glass doors, startling the woman behind the front desk. I gave her my information, trying to get my breathing under control. She told me the meeting was on the third floor and that the elevator was out of order.