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"Perhaps I'll join his band full time. Perhaps I'll sing alongside him. But that's for another day. Tonight I'm his."
As I read out the lines from the last page a familiar tugging is felt in my heart.
"Hey what the hell? Gimme that..!" Chris hurdles over the stool hitting his knee. "Ouh ough ugh..."
He seizes the short unruled blue notebook from my hand. This scene is familiar too. Two years ago in M.H. Academy... He snatched my diary in class...
As I remain abstracted in my position unreactive to his wincing or him successfully obtaining his notebook from my grasp, Charles Dean points to our way. "Get in your position Chris. What you doing..?"
Chris has joined us as the DOP (cinematographer) in our set. It's been only 7 months. He discovered his hidden skill after that competition and began his career as a photographer. Then he worked under many people and changed jobs a number of times. Finally when Damien asked him to work with them to shoot their music video that was when Mr. Charles's ingenious eyes got stuck on him.
"What are a you doing Saint freezing over there? I'mma have a retake," he asks me this time.
"I'm going to need the icy spray Director. Can't you see I hit my knee?!"
"That's your own fault Mr. Issac. And that's pain relief spray not icy spray. Someone..." He yells authoritatively. "Get him the spray."
"Is it bad?" A crew member asks him.
"No. I'll be fine. Give me some time," he says holding his right knee. "That's your fault Saint."
My name in his lips pulls me out of my musings. "Wh-what did you write...in there?"
The assistant boy brings him the spray. He quickly twists open the cap then sprays on the now swollen spot.
The cooling sensation alleviates his pain as he tosses his notebook at Mr. Charles. "Catch it Director!"
"Wait, No!" I protest trying to get it before him but fail graciously.
"What's in it?" He flips open the front page. "Desperate Hearts..?"
"Your next series' script Director. Praise me later when you're done reading."
"The hell you did Chris!?!" No Saint. You shouldn't lose your cool on the set. "Did you take my permission?"
"You write stories too?" Mr. Charles seems slightly elated. "Oh but why you seem piqued Saint? Your best friend has written a story."
"Script Director Script." Chris corrects him. "I've just discovered this hidden talent of mine."
"I wish it'd remained hidden." I grumble. "I'm not...mad Mr. Charles. I cannot be mad at my friend who just wrote a script about..." I grind my teeth looking away.
"Wait, is this about Saint? What's it about?"
"Just go through it once Director. I'm sure it'll be hit as a series." Chris smiles at me. A pure guiltless smile. "This is my first attempt at something I've never done before Saint. Are you going to rebuke me?"
"I'm starting to regret making you my bestfriend."
The crew members laugh at my remark glancing at Chris's way then goes back then their usual chitchat.
Mr. Charles claps twice to get their attention. "Do I look Hollow man to you?" He asks, his temper a little sour.
I came to know of the reason by eavesdropping at his earlier phone call at 5p.m. He had an argument with Kennedy Frost who thinks Charles is partly responsible for the eccentric reckless young man Damien turned out to be.
"Uhh... why?" The new young actress casted as Sherie stares at him fiddling with her fingers.
The others look at her then at Charles.
"But we thought Mr. Chris injured himself and... we also worked hard today. So maybe..." She on behalf of the rest of them says meekly.
"Maybe what?" Charles bend down to sit on the small metal sitting stool grabbing his stainless steel water bottle. "You know what...fine. Wrap up!" He orders drinking some water. "I also need some rest."
"Mr. Angel..." The actress selected for the role of the female lead's older sister (in real, Sophie) calls me. "Jet and we all are going to his garden party today. Come join us please. It's been a long day."
Chris's phone dings with incessant messages. Guess he kept his phone turned off for a long time.
"Saint—" he comes to me.
I don't want to talk to him but this is our job and we should be professional at all times.
"Yes?"
"Mr. Angel what do you say?" Aleera who was near me asks this time. She's the female lead of this series we're shooting. She wants my answer on Sophie's question. Uh-oh I have to say something.
"Saint come here." Chris pulls me to a side.
"So your leg is okay now? Should I..?"
"Can you set aside all your frustrations for me for a second?" He shows his phone to me. "See?"
"What?"
"Invitation."
"For?"
"Reunion of our batch," he says excitedly. "Donna sent this to me and now they've added me in their group."
"Did-did you give them my number?" I ask fearing my contact details would leak. Back then it didn't matter but now...as an actor...
"No. But I've assured them that I'll bring you there." He grins patting on my back like usual self.
"Despite knowing how busy I am?" I brush off his hand. "You don't change."
There's a far off dreaminess in his eyes as he gives me a rueful grin. "You're the one who changed—a lot Saint. Someone who has no time for anyone else. Can you remember the last time you visited your mother and had a hearty meal and talk?"
"Can you not nag me Chris? I'm tired after all those shooting. I want to lie down on my bed."
Saying that didn't feel good at all. I don't like this feeling either. This feeling of remorse and desertion...
"Then tell me to screw off. Cause I can't watch you burn every single bridge!" The madness is apparent in his voice.
"What did I do this time?" I talk back. "I haven't even refused yet... for the reunion. I send money to mom every month and we videocall on weekends."
He presses on his forehead then squints at Charles's way.
"What?" He asks catching him.
"I'm leaving my precious notebook with you Director. And I'm taking him with me now. See ya tomorrow."
"Hey!" Chris ignores me pulling me out of the set.
"Hey! Atleast let me bring the mask!"
"Borrow mine. I have extra."
I wear the mask then he sends me into his car starting the engine.
"I'm not gonna go to your place." I assert aggressively.
Only ever Chris saw my anger. At the first stage it's but coldness... hard. But then it starts to melt down the thick blocks of ice with fire—then my head doesn't give a damn who's in front of it. That's why I never let it go to the second stage.
"Do you even know where I live?" He swerves the car in the left speedily and I smash the back of my head in the seat.
"Ugh! Drive slow moron!"
"Serves you right! Buckle up your seatbelt."
I do as he says then look up at his eyes in the mirror. He won't stop today.
"Yeah I heard," I answer continuing with his previous question. "Street 6, I.N.K apartment."
"No. I moved out a week ago." He catches my expression in the front mirror. "Atleast you still remember my name... That's a big deal."
"Cut the crap Chris. What do you want to say?"
"You won't be able to tolerate the things I have to say Saint. Anyway, I've bought a house 3k.m. ahead from that apartment—with the money I saved up until now... I'm taking you there."
"For what? If it's about that reunion—then I'm thinking about it, alright?"
"No." His brows furrow and lips get pressed up together. "It's more than that."
****
After a while we reach his place. It's a two storey house covering approximately 1500 square feet—light orange outer wall with rooftop and a big red entrance. There's a gated parking area beside it. It's locked up.
He gives me the keys saying, "Open it."
"Why me?"
"Cause if you don't then I have to come out, open the gate then get the car inside and then we enter the house!" His face now scrunched up in annoyance. "Will your sacred hands get dirty Saint Angel by doing that?"
I quietly unlock the gate wide open. After he drives it in that space I follow him into the house.
"Help yourself. You're no stranger." He walks into the living room ordering me to do the same.
Putting his jacket on the hanger he removes his socks. "Make me dinner Mr. Angel." His overconfident bossy tone makes me cringe and get goosebumps at the same time. As I stretch out my upper body he gawks at me.
"Didn't I tell you something?"
"Aren't you too bumptious today? It's annoying... You..!"
"Reminding you of someone right?" He gives me a cynical smile.
"Shut up Chris. I... You want me to cook us food right? Fine! I'll do it. But don't complain if I mess up your kitchen. I'm dead on my feet already." I come out of the room heading to the right.
"Kitchen's on the left duh," he says chuckling. "Where's your mind hm..?" He mutters throwing on a white T shirt with rainbow print.
My mind's drifting... and I hate it.
He saunters after me to the kitchen. "Just do the eggs. I'll do the rest." He states.
"You're not leaving this house until you give me your answer Saint," he says again in a coercing voice. "...which has to be assertive."
Where have I tangled up?
I beat the eggs brutally. He's making rice while typing something in his phone. Suddenly he shouts at me, "Hey! Are you crazy?"
"What?"
"That's icing sugar not salt! Seriously Saint are you cooking with your eyes closed? I'm on my phone and yet I was able to detect that stupid mistake of yours. Where is your head at?"
That's it. I can't do this anymore.
"Then do it yourself..!" I scream with all my frustrations boiling over. "I will survive without dinner tonight."
"How long are you going to lie to yourself hah?!" He yells angrily turning off the oven.
"Oh?" I press my arms close together. "Too much assumptions? I'm lying! When did I? About what?"
"That you don't care about him."
"What are you saying?" I ask gulping down my own saliva.
"Otherwise Damien wouldn't have come to me that day!" The thin bridge of rope between two mountains finally tears down at his name.
"What day? He came to you..? Why?"
"You're asking why 'he' came to me? Or why he came to 'me'? When you're the one who pushed him away. Admit it Saint that it was your fault. And you lie everytime you say and act like you don't give a shit about him!"
"I... I'm..." My throat hurts. So does my chest.
"You had a fight with him and when you thought you couldn't win you moved out of his place!" He hits the table surface.
"He looked like he was on the verge of breaking Saint..." He puts his hands on my shoulders feistily. "Do you really not care about him?"
"I was the one being challenged! Why didn't he come after me!?"
I do. I wanna scream I do, I do, so the world hears me loud and clear... but I can't. I'm such a pathetic lover.
"You weren't even in his recent music video. You're also a member of Heart of Clubs Saint..." He looks deadly serious pressing me down. "Hell the band's name is dedicated to you! You're his purpose. Can't you see? Isn't it your job to do your part as a member too? Are you going to abandon him too?"