The press found countless ways to attack Billy in his new role, but he simply didn't care; maybe he'd win a Razzie next year, yet one thing was undeniable—he looked absolutely charming, with that beautiful smile. His performance wasn't particularly bad, just ordinary in certain aspects, and when it came to showing passion, he was perhaps a step above any average actor. He had spent a long time preparing for it, stepping into a leading role where what mattered was action, a fast-paced plot, explosions, and the way he carried that particular anger so valued by certain directors. The result landed at around 70% approval from critics—not terrible, but far from a hit, and that was how it seemed.
The street was completely closed off, a black carpet stretching across it, with barricades lining each side. It was his popularity that managed to fill the street, at least partially. Journalists pointed and fired off questions.
In the same way, there was the old-school glamour, the way things were done before social media—a New York–style frenzy, what they called being trapped by fame. Billy arrived in a long limousine alongside Scarlett. She wore a colored suit with comfortable flats that gave her a fresh, effortless style. Billy wore a black suit with red accents, sunglasses, and leather shoes. His hair, styled in loose curls, fell over his forehead, and his smile made the screams rise like a melody filled with affection.
-—Something modest has turned into the complete opposite.— whispered Scarlett, now feeling slightly out of place; Billy's energy and outfit elevated him like a rock star, while she felt almost like a server beside him. His stylist was exceptional.
-Well, a lot of people depend on me.— Billy laughed, responding to the cameras as if the stares didn't matter, then took a deep breath, slipped an arm around Scarlett's waist, and brought the interview to an end.
-—I think they overdid it a bit.— Billy commented. —I mean, we made a good commercial film, but it's not a masterpiece—
-—Maybe in the future people will see it that way. And I'm genuinely grateful because our work fit the moment. The film has philosophical undertones aligned with the broad, categorical media in the United States—that is, with the general audience, that segment of viewers who just want to watch a movie and escape their lives for 120 minutes.— Scarlett replied gently, offering a warm smile, trying not to sound defensive.
—Well then, let it be our curse not to satisfy everyone.— Billy answered, moving along the line, as everything continued in fragments, small moments left to the quiet understanding that perhaps it wasn't worth making such a fuss.
The film premiered before the public, and the truth was, it wasn't a striking revelation—just something moderate. Billy occasionally glanced at people's reactions, but he was fascinated seeing himself on the big screen. It fed his ego so much he almost decided to run off and make a film entirely on his own. Taking a breath, he focused on the differences between what had been shot and what the final cut showed. He especially liked his role as the villain; the way he gestured was particularly aggressive, his sharp gaze entirely epic.
He is perfect, Billy thought, while Scarlett watched with precision. She always preferred subtlety, paying attention to the details, understanding how everything unfolded and how something could be reshaped. Her perception was fluid, almost serpentine.
Billy focused only on his role; she understood it could have been much better, since the film had so much emotion to convey. The science fiction elements were deep, but it failed to fully capture the idea of identity. Still, she liked the last fifteen minutes—Michael succeeded when he made Billy question himself and allowed the music to take over.
Two sensitive souls—one completely corrupted by society, the other entirely naïve, with a spark of innocence. But the pacing didn't leave much room for that, and the result lingered in a lukewarm space: I've seen better takes on action characters. The more intimate scene stood out—Billy's abs looked striking, her fingers brushing over them, and she found it undeniably exciting.
-—I think you did a good job. Especially with the dual identity.— Scarlett whispered. —It's not easy to switch from good to bad in the same scene, and even less to do it consistently and convincingly. I think we need to keep working on your expressions—there are moments where you look… like a complete rookie.
-—Wow…—
The credits rolled. The applause was bittersweet—there, but not quite earned. It felt like the kind of film you'd catch on TV every couple of months, on a Sunday, whether you'd already seen it or not.
—You need to take on more roles.— she suggested, her soft eyes fixed on him. She truly embodied beauty—her pear-shaped face, her delicate features giving warmth to her advice, almost like a mother's quiet support.
-For this kind of film, I think what matters most is that the fans like it.— Billy said, noticing disappointed faces expecting something on the level of The Matrix; chasing masterpieces was a matter of faith.
-—That doesn't matter to actors.— Scarlett replied.
-—True.— Billy murmured. —The difference between doing something good and something bad… drama needs subtlety.
With little more to say, they stepped out from the crowd as others continued giving interviews. Billy shrugged, trying not to create tension. The idea of being the best had just begun to take hold of him, now that it was clear he wanted to be capable in everything he pursued—and acting wouldn't be the exception. What remained was to land great roles, and great roles were exactly what someone like him needed.
-I think London will be different.— Billy said.
-You'll be there?— she asked.
-—Of course. Right now, all they need is my face to boost things a little.— Billy replied calmly.
-For that day, I'll wear a dress that will leave you speechless.— Scarlett said, already having everything planned. Her smile shone like starlight, and Billy simply squeezed her waist. The party would go on, producers would be there—all of them, at least from the film world—and he would just do what he always did: make his move.
...
Only a small note appeared in the magazines, the kind people actually read—it spoke of a truly unforgettable kiss. The kisses Billy and Scarlett shared, both on-screen and off, were worthy of MTV—captured in a moment where desire was allowed to surface, and Scarlett's bright eyes darkened like the night of lovers deeply in love.