#madamecaos

[madamecaos]

Just co-stars

where Harry is in a movie and Y/N is his co-star and romantic interest.

Warning: a bit of angst, maybe fluff.

Just co-stars

“... Yes, it has been a lovely experience.” Harry, more than gratified with his answer, got comfortable into the lightweight chair, wireless mic hidden between the ruffles of his white prominent blouse. 

You never being the one fall behind, followed suit.

The movie ratings had gone splendidly, the audience loving the instant connection between the young pair that played a stranded couple on the verge of divorce in a rom-com, if one could call it that since it’s plot didn’t derive of comedy. Their genuine like for each other obliged with every checklist within the genre; like-able, clumsy-ish and yet, relatable, or at least you read in the latest Teen Vogue article.

“It couldn’t have gone better.” You added into the conversation and the interviewer fleetly shuffled through her cue cards until landing on her next question.

The same bit of the same scene had to be repeated several times and already the sun of the next dawn was peeking through the bleary sash window. Enervation suffocated the atmosphere that encompassed through the crews’ bones and your eyelids, irritation running through every sentence and every word, even if scripted.

It was a tight fit and only the main crew, sound, camera and lighting were allowed in, other than you and Harry of course. A little apartment simulating the look of an impoverished studio in New York city found the main couple stranded between what they said and what they truly meant… oddly relatable.

Usually emotions coming from real places in your life helped you convey of faux ones, even if unrelated. This time, it was the opposite. 

You kept messing up the words, failing to comply with the emotion of the scene and the director was set on getting the perfect shot, a sequence of a fight and then a superficial reconciliation between the characters. 

In the end, it was mostly your fault at this point, even if that little stubborn part of yours tried to blame Harry just a little bit.

In a cold night on November, one of the producers set a little barbecue for the cast to bond and to know each other better before filming. This was set to be your first big project, only student films and local theater as your experience. 

Everyone, even the biggest Hollywood names had been overly friendly to you, especially Harry, who you surprisingly met before knowing you had the role in the audition.

After several table readings, he slightly kept you apart from others, arms around your shoulders or your hips, cold thick rings digging into your flesh lightly until they became warm for being close to you for too long. 

An improvised little bonfire was set in the middle of the reunion and Harry, as his usual affection, had his left arm around your shoulders, fingers undeniably tugging a curl around his fingers.

You weren’t really paying attention to the conversation around you, several drinks into your system and the fire in front of you romanticizing the cold night with flickering lights.

“So what now? ‘Will travel alone?” Ryan, one of the director’s assistant who had indubitably invited himself, tried to keep up with the light chat around him.

“I’m almost 30. I have to enjoy my free years while I can” He lowly commented to Ryan, a gray beret hiding rumpled curls that reached the slight stubble.

You felt yourself pulling away not knowing if he noticed.

Sometimes, in most cases, anger over hurt felt better. 

Anger meant blindness, realization and the possibility of nulling an attachment that wasn’t really there and yet, this bitterness didn’t feel yours. 

“All right, we’ll try this again. We have to finish this before the sun is completely out or we’ll have to do this tomorrow.” The director tilted his head down and promptly looked at you through the upper rim of his glasses. “We good?”

A nod was your only response and handed the script to the makeup artist lightly powdering your face for the seventh time this night, well, now morning. 

Harry stood up from the hole-covered maroon loveseat and went back to the center of the dimly lit living room, steps slightly shuffling over the burgundy aged carpet.  After that night filled with drinks and some indirect confessions, he hadn’t felt the need to interact with you outside of his line of work, other than niceties of a coworker being polite.

He was looking at you and for someone who’s overly expressive, he looked emotionless.

He was looking at you like he knew.

You returned his stare and got into position. 

“And action!” The director sat back and the room went silent.

“I came to find you.” Harry, in comparison to other takes, looked exhausted.

“Then, you found me.” You went towards the cabinet to serve yourself a drink as directed. “Want one?”

“No, I…”

You expected his line, one of the-if not the- easiest of his dialogue.

“I…”

“Want one?” You tried again with flushed cheeks as everyone’s stare was on the two of you; his feelings and your reaction.

“I-I…”

“No thanks? Then, more for me... Cheers.” The clink of your glass filled with a little bit of Iced Tea simulating was the only sound in the room for a while, the stare of the director intensifying.

You kept to the script, adrenaline forbidding you for another mess up by your part. Now it seemed like you and Harry exchanged roles.

“I…” 

“What? I what?” Exasperated and annoyed you went off script and expected the imminent cut by the director, but when you turned to face Harry, at your peripheral you saw the director’s hand rise up, crew on standby and cameras still rolling.

“I… dance with me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, confusion genuine.

He beckoned you to walk towards him, hand extended in invitation. 

This certainly wasn’t part of the script or the movie.

He tried again and your curiosity didn’t let you flee like your instinct obliged you to. 

“Please?” 

You took his hand, slender, ringless and yet opaquing yours by size. He gently pulled you closer until nothing but your clothing fit between you. His other hand guided your free hand onto his shoulder before encircling you, set position firm at your lower back. He pulled you even closer if possible until your body molded to his.

You hadn’t been so close to him for so long. Even after a long day on set, he smelled fresh with a hint of peppermint.

Warmth enveloped you and it brought you to that night beside the bonfire.

Harry started to slightly rocking the two of you, a slow and intimate pace set between a sea of people staring intently at your act.

His eyes didn’t leave yours but you didn’t feel like facing him so you tilted your head down, forehead brushing the hollowness of his cheekbone. 

“Why are we dancing?” You whispered, imagining that if you were to speak louder, the intimate bubble would burst.

He took a moment to answer, like he usually did, as if savoring the words to say was his favorite pastime. 

“I’m sorry.” He leaned back, obliging you to meet his eyes. “That’s why we’re dancing, because I’m sorry.”

“I don’t… You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” Yet again, his stare was too intense for you to match, but he didn’t leave you with any options as he stopped the rocking and leaned back even more, separating you completely with hands still not letting you go.

“You know I do. What I said- back when… How’ve been treating you, is not what I feel.” 

You looked for an answer in his expression, not really understanding if his apology meant a chance to reunite what never was there in the first place.

You had a platonic friendship and nothing more. Did he want to go back to that, go back to nothing?

“It’s ok. Don’t worry about it.”

The two of you assumed back the position until you found your head leaning down on his chest, arms circling his waist and his encasing yours. 

His cheek now found a resting place at the top of your head and your eyes started to water.

Did he do this in front of everyone so you wouldn’t overreact?

...is this just part of the scene?

“Y/N…”

That certainly wasn’t the name of the character.

“Look at the sun.”

The two of you didn’t move for a bit as the sun of the next dawn peeked through the bleary sash window, painting the room in sunlight, seeing you two as close as the air would let.

“Did you know that the sun is a star?”

Of course your instinct was to roll your eyes and grin but you didn’t dare to move.

You didn’t feel like saying anything else... then everything felt warm. Everything felt right again.

“Ok, cut!”

“It couldn’t have gone better.” You added into the conversation and the interviewer fleetly shuffled through her cue cards until landing on her next question, not before Harry discreetly circled his pinky with yours.

“Yes, you could say...” He leaned in, promptly letting you know that another bad joke was coming. “... we were golden.”

A/N: Thinking about writing more about co-stars. Let me know if you would like to see more. Unrevised (as always).

Requests are open!

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