picture by: @JellyzaPrima

Thomas's pov

Now listen up, fuckers, 'cause this next part of the story gets really fucking embarrassing, and I'm only ever saying it once. Pull up a chair, get comfy, and don't you dare make fun of me.

It started the very next morning, before the sun had even peeked out from behind the surrounding trees. The cast lay unconscious around the cold fire, while visions of sugar-plums or some shit danced in their heads (or does that only happen on the night before Christmas? You get the point). Everything was calm, peaceful, and...warm.

There I was, minding my own business as I slept soundly, all cuddled up and comfortable. Now, do you know that aggravating feeling when your alarm clock goes off, and you're forced to wake up?

How about that aggravating feeling when you're forced to wake up because you're being thrown across the room like a limp potato?

Yeah, that's basically how I woke up on this fine morning.

One moment I was at peace and then--BAM! I was lying spread-eagle with my back on the ground. It was like getting hit by a train while blindfolded, because I wasn't expecting it and then boom: pain. (...Alright, I was never the best with my similes, cut me some slack.)

My eyes flew open and I groaned, immediately sitting up. "What the hell?" I moaned, my vision slightly disoriented from my abrupt wake-up call. I blinked once, twice, three times, and then Dylan came into focus, looking absolutely petrified.

He sat on the ground a few inches from myself, his hair ruffled messily (and slightly adorably) ((shut the fuck up I was tired when I thought that)) and his eyes wide in shock. His arms were extended towards me, and he looked extremely peeved off, if nothing else.

"What the fuck were you doing?" he whisper shouted, clearly trying not to wake the others. His face was ablaze, not with fury, but with what appeared to be embarrassment.

"What?" I asked, confused. What was he on about? Maybe I wasn't the only one who hit their head this morning.

Dylan stuttered, his face contorting. "You--you were--" his voice lowered to a harsh whisper, "You were laying on top of me!"

And I froze.

Then my face began to heat up too, because suddenly I remembered rolling over onto something incredibly soft the moment before I fell asleep last night, and I was recalling the comfortable feeling I had had throughout my sleep and now it made more sense why I was so warm waking up when we were sleeping outside in the middle of April.

Holy shit, Dylan and I cuddled last night.

I swear to God, it's like my life is some poorly written romance novel. How cliche was this? How embarrassing was this?

"Oh," was all I was able to manage while my groggy mind reeled. Dylan must have thrown me off when he woke up--oh Jesus, could this get any worse?

"Oh?" Dylan mocked. "Oh? That's it? Oh? Thomas, this is not okay!"

"Hey, don't blame me for this! You're the one who was...under me!" I defended.

"Um, guys?"

And I froze again.

I almost didn't want to turn around. I knew that when I did, Kaya would be sitting there, jumping to conclusions. I prayed she didn't hear what I just said, because lord, I couldn't handle anymore embarrassment--

She cut me off. "Look, it's cool if you guys wanna get under each other-- I mean, it wouldn't surprise me if you guys did a little hokey-pokey anyway-- but can you not do it when I'm only a few meters away?"

If anyone ever asked what my most embarrassing moment was, I'd surely pick this, because in that instant I was sure my face flamed brighter than even the color of Dylan's lips (which are pretty darn pink).

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After packing up all of our belongings, the cast and I headed back to set (Dylan and I clearly avoiding each other). We were scheduled to run some lines for the movie, under Wes's watch, to see if we had, 'team-bonded'. At first, I admit I thought it was a bit stupid to assume we would suddenly become much better actors, but let me tell ya, I soon realized that one night can make all the difference.

Without sounding too cocky, we were good together before. We had automatic chemistry as a group, and I hadn't exactly been worried about our careers together.

But after getting to know each other a bit, I'd say that our chemistry had increased tenfold.

It was evident within even the first scene alone that something had clicked within the group. The awkward acting that had accompanied our lines before had suddenly dissipated, replaced by an honest and welcoming atmosphere. It felt like we were actually our characters, in an actual scenario, as actual best friends.

I've never experienced anything quite like it.

We ran the script four times, Wes making small changes here and there. It took nearly eight hours, but by the end of the day, we were lost in a completely different world.

As we finished our final scenes, Wes had the biggest smile on his face that I had ever seen. With approval in his eyes, he said, "You are no longer a group of guys sitting around a plastic table reading lines off of a tentative script. You're gladers now. That's a wrap for the day. Go let loose a bit."

We celebrated as he walked out of the room. Then, as it was nearing six pm at this point, Kaya said, "Who's up for some celebratory dinner?"

For once, I actually liked one of her ideas.

______________________________________________________________________________

I should have known that anything suggested by Kaya always ended badly.

Twenty minutes later, we all skipped into a restaurant not far from the hotel, in high spirits from our successful day. As Kaya went to get us a table, we crowded together in the small waiting area, playing 'I Spy' to pass the time. Finally she returned, looking slightly annoyed. She waved for us to follow her to the table, and we did so obediently.

I realized the problem as soon as I stood next to the table.

There were about fifteen of us who came to the restaurant, and since the restaurant didn't have enough seats for everyone, it had pushed four tables together. That wasn't the issue, however.

The dilemma was that there was thirteen seats placed along the length of the four tables, and there were fifteen of us.

"Um, excuse me, M'am," I called to the woman who had seated us. "We need two more chairs."

She turned to face me over her shoulder, revealing her confused gaze. Kaya spoke over her before she got the chance to reply.

"Um, Thomas? Actually, the restaurant said it was hazardous to add another table to this mess. And there's really no room already... So..." she trailed off. I glanced around, watching as everyone else obliviously took their seats.

"So?" I asked, befuddled.

She sighed. "So two people have to sit separated from everyone else." She gestured to a table not too far away, nestled next to the window. It was clearly a couple seat, not that that really mattered. I arched an eyebrow, slightly annoyed that the restaurant regulations meant that we all couldn't sit together.

I glanced around, sighing when I saw that the only two people without a seat were Dylan and I.

Of course.

"Is that okay?" Kaya asked, biting her lip. She seemed to realize the current situation too, and it looked like she was actually hesitant to leave Dylan and I isolated at our own table.Though I understood her position, I felt rather obliged to prove her wrong.

"We'll be fine," I said, already pulling out my chair. I plopped down with a huff, slightly ticked off that no one seemed to trust Dylan and I alone.

Dylan lingered on his feet for a moment, before he too was settling into his own chair. His knees knocked into mine as we sat, and the limited space of the small table left our legs touching no matter which way we fidgeted. Our eyes met, an unwavering gaze filled with unwavering questions, and I shook my head, silently telling him it wasn't worth arguing.

Kaya sighed, but I ignored her, picking up my menu.

My eyes scanned the meals and appetizers, (all being disgustingly American choices)((I mean seriously, who would actually eat bacon-flavored ice-cream?)) but my brain didn't process any of it. I was acutely aware of my surroundings, of Kaya shooting me glances, of the small candle dancing between Dylan and I, of Dylan shifted awkwardly across from me.

I placed the menu down, only now realizing the awkward situation Kaya had put Dylan and I in again. He was playing with the linen tablecloth distractedly, repeatedly licking his lips.

"So..." he said. He glanced helplessly towards our friends sitting adjacent to us, probably wishing we weren't separated from them.

I snorted, but didn't reply.

"Um...how's life?" he questioned, obviously trying to hide from the awkward silence. I shook my head, picking up my menu again. Dylan paused.

"I'm great, thanks for asking," Dylan said sarcastically when he realized I didn't plan on responding. I could already hear the frustration growing in his voice, barely traceable beneath his happy attitude.

I stayed silent, pretending like I wasn't even listening. Dylan went on.

"This is great, I just love talking to myself. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside."

I glanced up, but quickly dropped my gaze again.

"Wanna hear a joke? What did one wave say to the other when it rolled by?" I almost laughed at his way of trying to start a conversation, but then he answered himself, "Nothing, he just waved!"

Dylan started laughing at his own joke, but at the sign of my unamused face, his giggles faded.

"Alright, what do you call a fish with no eyes?"

I didn't bother looking up from my menu as I muttered, "Blind?", my voice just dry enough to be comical.

"--A fsh!--hey, wait, you're not supposed to guess. That ruins the punch line."

I rolled my eyes this time, saying quietly, "I can't ruin something that was already ruined."

He ignored me."Okay,what did they give the guy who invented the door knocker?" Dylan tried again. "A no-bell prize!"

This time I didn't even bother giving a reaction, so as to prove I was thoroughly unamused. He kept going. "What did the bedsheet say when it fell off the bed?" Silence. "Oh, sheet!--"

"Blimey, shut the fuck up," I cut off, but my stony face had crumbled, and my eyes held just enough mirth that Dylan smiled in victory.

He opened his mouth, most likely to call me out on my amusement, but was cut off by a deep voice coming up between us. His accent was thick, but still easily understandable to my British ears. "Hey guys, my name is Jamal, and I'll be your server for tonight. Can I start y'all off with drinks?"

My eyes flitted upwards, widening when they met Jamal's figure. He was cute, that was for sure, with a dimpled smile and black hair that swept neatly to the side. He wasn't looking back at me, however, for his sea green eyes were trained explicitly on Dylan.

"Uh-yes. I mean, um--" Dylan stuttered awkwardly. When I looked at him, a light pink dust was climbing his neck. "I'll have a--a beer, please."

The waiter shot an overly friendly smile at Dylan, writing his order down on his notepad. I raised an eyebrow.

"And you, sir?" he asked, turning to me.

"Water," I said gruffly. Jamal nodded. He smiled again, and then disappeared to the other table to take the rest of my friend's orders.

"No alcohol?" Dylan asked me, obviously still fighting down a blush. Is this how he acts whenever someone flirts with him? What a loser.

I rolled my eyes at his curious nature. "No."

"Why?" he asked. "We're supposed to let loose a little, remember?"

I tensed. He was suddenly treading a very thin line, so I chose my words carefully. "I don't drink," I explained, trying to keep my voice level and calm.

"Why?" he asked again.

"Because..." I stopped and gulped. "I just don't, okay?"

Dylan tilted his head, curiosity lingering like stars in his eyes. He probably would have questioned me further if Jamal had not chosen that exact moment to come back with our drinks.

"A water for you sir," he said, placing a glass down in front of me. As he placed a beer in front of Dylan, he muttered, "And a beer for the prettiest guy in Louisiana."

I froze. There was a tug in my gut, and suddenly I decided I wanted a new waiter.

Dylan looked up with wide eyes, and I unconsciously flinched. He smiled softly and then said to Jamal, "Well, then I guess this beer is for you."

Oh, gag me.

"No gorgeous, make no mistake; there's only one pretty boy in this restaurant, and it's definitely not me," Jamal winked.

As Dylan blushed, I bit my lip to restrain from barfing. I gripped the edge of the tablecloth, wrapping it tightly within my clenched fists.

"Can you guys take your trashy flirting elsewhere?" I said through clenched teeth. "Like, I don't know, a garbage bin?"

"Thomas," Dylan warned. His eyes silently pleaded with me not to mess this up for him. I shrugged.

"Dylan," I said in the same condescending tone. He held my gaze for a second before Jamal drew his eyes again.

"Ah, Dylan. A beautiful name for a beautiful guy."

Alright, that was a bit much. This guy needed to chill. Or leave. Or descend into hell and never come back. But whatever.

"Thank you," Dylan said, biting his lip. Their eyes met and they stared at each other, like some cliche scene in a Hollywood movie.

My leg jolted out and accidentally connected with Dylan's shin under the table. He jumped, breaking his eye contact with Jamal and glaring at me.

(It was for his own good, I swear.)

"We'll both have burgers. Medium well. Waffle fries. Thanks, and buh-bye, Jamal," I suddenly spoke before Dylan could interrupt. Jamal looked taken aback, but he scribbled down our orders, winking at Dylan again, and then floated towards the rest of the cast for their meals too.

"What's got your panties in a twist?" Dylan grumbled.

I took a sip of my water, then answered, "I came here to eat, not watch you flirt."

Dylan rolled his eyes. "He's hot," he defended, keeping his voice low so that no one else would hear him.

"So is the sun, but do I flirt with it? No, I have some decency," I murmured. My mood had certainly plummeted again. Thanks, Jamal.

Dylan just rolled his eyes. I could tell by the glint in his eye that he was fond of Jamal in a way-too-friendly manner, and again, I felt my stomach clench and my skin crawl.

Neither of us said a word for the next twenty-five minutes as we waited, both brooding angrily. The more time I spent locked in my head, the more my resentment began to blossom, and by the time Jamal had come back, I had become udderly sour.

"Two burgers," Jamal grinned, gracefully sliding each platter in front of Dylan and I. He hovered for a second,as if debating something, then decidedly chose to say, "Call me if y'all need anything."

"Will do," Dylan said, fluttering his eyes. I snickered, but didn't say anything.

After that, our meal was surprisingly pleasant. Dylan managed to stay off my nerves for the most part, and I think he'd say the same for me. I'm not going to lie, it was probably because we were both lost in euphoric food heaven, but we managed to hold a half-decent conversation (without terrible jokes thank goodness). Every once in a while someone from the other table would check in on us (How's your dinner date going, guys?), but for the most part we lasted forty-five minutes without biting each other's heads off.

And then Jamal came back with our bill.

I tensed as soon as his stupid black-haired head approached our table. I watched as he handed Dylan the bill, his fingers lingering for a second too long in Dylan's palm. Dylan kept his cool, surprisingly, but I'd bet the farm that he was freaking out inside.

For some reason, that made me extremely uncomfortable.

Dylan opened the little booklet with the bill inside, and a small slip of paper slipped out. It landed on the table between us, and I strained to read in messy handwriting:

Call me ;)

(250)-421-0979

And just like that, my mouth disconnected from my thoughts.

"You're giving him your number?!" I sputtered suddenly. No, no, no repeated in my head like a mantra, and Jamal looked slightly terrified.

"Why the hell would you ask him out?" I spat again towards our waiter. Dylan winced across from me at my harsh words, but my attention remained on Jamal, who was gaping like a fish.

Jamal stuttered, "Well-he-I--"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dylan cut the poor guy off, his voice cold. My glare turned towards him.

"Seems to me like something went wrong in this guy's brain if he thinks you, of all people, are attractive." I don't even know where that response came from. We were fine two minutes ago, what was suddenly causing me to be so cruel? Dylan's face contorted with my words, and his shoulders tensed. I don't know where any of this was coming from, but I had no control.

"Well I don't see you getting hit on," Dylan defended angrily. "What does that say about you?"

My glare narrowed. Beneath the table, my fists clenched.

"Clever," I sneered. "You're just so clever. That's about all you've got going for you, you know."

"Oh, really?" he said, cold, passive, light.

My jaw tightened. "Face it. You're the newbie. You don't know what you're doing, and nobody wants to help you." It wasn't me talking anymore. My mouth was moving despite my objections, and words spewed out of mouth like venom. I didn't mean to say this, I didn't, but I was compelled to by god-knows-what. I was attacking him right where he was most vulnerable, and I could tell just by the pained pulse in his forehead, but I couldn't stop.

I continued. "Nobody wants you here. You aren't cut out for this life, Dylan."

Jamal gasped. Dylan didn't move. The restaurant continued buzzing with chatter, but our little bubble of a group was waiting in silence. The ball was in Dylan's court now.

"I know," Dylan finally spoke up. He sounded resigned, broken. Just like that, my angry face slackened, confused, but not at all surprised.

"I know I'm not," he repeated, his voice cracking painfully, "and I really don't need you to remind me." He stood abruptly, a pained grimace on his face, and then he disappeared, away from our table, away from the restaurant, away from me.

I stared at the empty space in front of me, the same spot Dylan had sat moments before. I was dimly aware of Jamal awkwardly scurrying away, but I was more focused on the terrible feeling blooming in my chest, stinging like fire stabbing my ice cold heart.

I suddenly felt as rejected and awful as the small slip of paper laying directly in front of me. One small slip of paper, one big mistake.

Without even thinking twice, I tore the paper in two, releasing all of my pain, frustration, and guilt in the one harsh movement.

//

A/N

SUCK MY ASS LOOK AT ME UPDATING MID WEEK YES TAKE THAT FUCKERS

Anywho, hi everyone, how are you, you're beautiful, I love you.

I dare you to count how many times I said a variation of fück this update bc I'm sure it's a lot.

ALSO, that alcohol bit was v important so please rEMEMBER it please ALSO like half the comments last chapter were about the damn oreos fück you guys ALsO I'm lowkey proud of this chapter fIGHT mE

Not much else to say, but just another F U C K Y E A H GO ME

ps. sorry its angsty it was supposed to be fluffy but it took a turn and I rolled with it

k bye

love you angels :))

//sam\\