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“Thank you. You’ll be hearing from us soon.”
Mermista Seymour didn’t smile, or nod, or even say goodbye before leaving. She was known all around Bright Moon for being the stoic, icy kind of actress, but this was the first time Adora met her in person, and she surely didn’t live up to the hype. Not only would she be a nightmare to work with - they’d all heard her yelling at the caterers outside the audition room, asking for seaweed sandwiches - but she’d also barely bothered learning the part. Sure, she had all the words down, and most of the stage directions, too, but there was no heart behind it. She’d taken Chloe and stripped her of all the layers Adora had worked into her until only her bitchiness remained; that wasn’t how Adora wanted the world to know one of her two lead characters.
Maybe there was just something wrong with the script she wrote. While her counterpart Amelia had been by no means easy to cast, she also hadn’t held up production for Adora’s big break for well over six months. Mermista was only the last of a long line of actresses who had failed to grasp Chloe’s complexities, and now Adora couldn’t help but think the problem was that she had failed to properly convey them. After all, the person Chloe was based on - she’d also always failed to let herself be understood.
Well. There was no pointing fingers now.
"Definitely the best we've had today," Glimmer said, like she had after every other audition. Adora tried to glare at her and found her bowed over her notes, writing down Mermista's name, probably along with her personal impressions.
"Yeah, Adora," Bow spoke around a mouthful of pizza. She didn't want her casting directors to appear unprofessional, but they'd been working over lunch break at her insistence. The least she could do was not have them starve. "Let's call her back in a few days for a chemistry read. I think she'd play off Scorpia nicely. Mermista, the sarcastic mean girl; Scorpia, the sweetheart you can't help but root for -"
"Plus, Sea Hawk really wants her in this movie," Glimmer pointed out. Sea Hawk was their scenographer and location scout who'd met Mermista on one of her previous movies; legend had it that he'd fallen in love with her at first sight and that she'd blown him off three times before finally agreeing to a date at the best seafood restaurant in town. The rest was history - meaning no one could agree as to the right course of events. Sea Hawk insisted he'd won her heart fair and square, and that they were pretty much dating. Mermista just looked very, very bored with him all the time. Adora didn't care either way.
"People putting Amelia and Chloe into boxes is exactly what got us here," Adora snapped, clearly looking at Bow. Not too angrily, though; staying mad at Bow was like kicking a puppy in the face. Glimmer, however, looked like she wanted to be fought all the time, and Adora was happy to provide. "And I'm not gonna disrupt my artistic integrity because Sea Hawk has a crush. Mermista wasn't right for Chloe. Send the next one in."
Bow and Glimmer let out a collective groan of disapproval. "Adora, we've been at it for months," Glimmer protested. "You do realize my mother's going to shut this project down if we don't find anyone soon, right?"
Adora swallowed. Angella was the head of Bright Moon Productions, who'd pulled out all the stops to give Adora - as well as her daughter Glimmer, who would follow her closely - a chance to prove herself. However, she'd also warned against using up too much of the company's precious time and resources, and that she wouldn't hesitate to stall the movie indefinitely - fine jargon for cancelling - if they kept walking blind.
Adora had a lot to lose, yes, but she would see her characters done right - or not at all. "Then let's hope the next ones in are good."
Bow sighed tiredly, looking over the list again. "Only one left for today. Catherine Connelly? You may come in."
"Wait." Adora lifted a hand to stop him and ripped the list out of his grasp, but the door was already opening. "What? Why didn't you tell me?"
Bow looked at her, confused. "What didn't I tell you-"
"Hey, Adora," a familiar voice crooned from the doorstep, getting closer with the sound of… flip-flops? "Fancy seeing you here."
Adora cursed under her breath. She refused to meet Bow's questioning gaze, instead closing her eyes tightly to prepare for the sight in front of her. "Catra."
When she opened them again, Catra stood in front of her, looking smug as the day she'd met her. She hadn't changed a lot in three years, but her hair was longer, more properly curled. She wore a simple crop top and high-waisted jeans, and Adora had been right in the assumption that she'd shown up at a formal audition wearing flip flops. She simultaneously looked like she didn't care at all, and like she was trying really hard to make it look so.
Glimmer looked between Catra and Adora, trying to figure out what was going on. Adora could tell she was going to open her mouth to ask questions, but Adora waved her concerns away. She just wanted to hurry things up and send Catra on her merry way. She wasn't planning to see her today - or ever, really - and especially not in those circumstances. It made red rise on her cheeks. "State your name and the role you're auditioning for, please."
"My name's Catherine Connelly," she replied affably, "but you may call me Catra. I'm 23. All relevant information about me can be found in my file. Obviously, I'm reading for the role of Chloe."
"Yeah, Bow," Adora murmured, shoving Catra's file back to him, "all relevant information could be found in her file."
She watched as Bow went over it again, stopping on the part Adora had highlighted: 2010-2014: Actress for Horde Productions. Starred in: multiple productions by S. Weaver (The Secret of the Sword, Princess Prom, Promise)...
Bow mouthed Sorry and Adora sighed, focusing her attention on Catra again. Bow and Glimmer had had to go over hundreds of files over months - too many to do more than rifle through them. "So, Catra, why do you think you'd be right for the role?"
Catra smirked, staring at Adora straight on. "I just see a lot of myself in her," she replied. "Almost as if she was written for me."
Adora refused to rise up to the challenge, unwilling to give her that satisfaction. "We'll see. You may begin."
Catra bowed her head, holding back her laughter again - and then she discarded her script.
“Once more,” Adora giggled, pushing the camera in a disgruntled Catra’s face, who just wanted to go back to sleep, “with feeling. C’mon.”
“Adora, it’s 6 in the morning.”
“Everything is so much more intense, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, like my desire to sleep,” Catra complained, but her head finally peeked out of the covers. Adora immediately scrambled over the bed to try to catch her in the best light possible - the first sunlight just barely filtering in through their windows and catching on Catra’s scrunched up nose. She never got tired of grumpy, sleepy Catra in the mornings.
“Good. Your defenses are down right now. Remember this feeling. Try to emulate it in the promise scene.”
Catra sighed, probably realizing her girlfriend wouldn’t give her a break until she went along with her idea of method acting. “Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?”
Adora always tried her damnedest, but she didn't believe any camera could do Catra justice. Miss Weaver’s words, reminding her to renounce the world she saw with naked eye and build a new one through her camera lenses, came back to her, unhelpfully - anyone who'd ever looked in the face of perfection stopped trying to emulate it and only focused on capturing it. This moment - Catra stirring lazily on their bed, eyes shut against the first sun, her voice still ragged from sleep - frozen in time, to be replayed over and over whenever she wanted. "I'll do you one more. I'll stay with you even after."
Catra's smile was fleeting, but sincere. Her hands slipped out from under the covers, reaching for Adora's - and finding them busy with the camera, of course. But anyone who looked at the footage would just see her reaching her hands out and assume her lover, on the other side of the screen, had caught them. "Do you promise?" Catra whispered.
"I promise," Adora readily replied, and put the camera aside, still filming at the foot of their bed, to spread out over Catra. Their noses fit together; Adora's warm socks found Catra's cold feet. "Catra."
"Wrong," Catra grinned, playfully poking Adora's forehead to push her back. Adora fell back against her almost right away, clinging to her like a teddy bear, or a multi-legged octopus. "It's Dana. You called me by the wrong name again."
Adora huffed against her skin. "What, did you think I was acting?"
"If you weren't, I applaud you. You fooled a sleep-deprived film student. You should totally look into it, though - acting. Maybe then Miss Weaver will give you some credit."
“I don’t want any credit,” Adora lied. “I mean, not right now. I’m still learning."
"This is, what? The third movie you write and direct for her? And she still won't even put your name on it."
"They’re all short films. There’s no harm in getting some experience in first. Plus, she said I’m the most brilliant student she’s ever trained. I’m definitely expecting a contract once my traineeship ends.”
Catra’s hands found their way in Adora’s hair, massaging patterns through the back of her head. Adora felt sleep drag her back down little by little, warmth spreading from her core to the tips of her fingers. It’s why she missed Catra asking: “What about me?”
“Mmh?”
Catra hesitated to elaborate. “Is she gonna put me under contract, too?”
Adora rested her chin on Catra’s chest. “She’s gonna have to, or I won’t accept. I’m not doing this without you on the other side of the camera.”
Catra sighed. “And only your camera, it seems.” But she still dropped a kiss on the top of Adora’s head.
Adora’s heart ached, thinking they were only avoiding a fight because of the early hour. They’d had this discussion many times, and it always ended up with Catra, well - resenting having to depend on Adora’s support to advance her career.
She didn’t think Catra knew that Adora relied on her, too - that if she’d decided to dedicate herself to directing, it was only because she’d found something (someone) beautiful enough to focus all her attention on. She would’ve been a photographer if she’d thought a still image could do Catra justice; but it wasn’t so much Catra’s natural beauty that did her in, so much as the way every one of her movements, every tilt in the way she spoke, added to who she was. Adora wanted to unravel her and strip her of her layers until only a burning, bleeding heart remained.
"They'll see," she vowed, playing with Catra's hands. A promise ring was on her right ring finger which Catra never took off - Adora's gift for their first anniversary. "I'll make them."
Catra flashed her her sweetest smile, which was also, incidentally, her Oh Adora you’re so stupid smile. Adora didn’t call her out on it, if only because it didn’t feel like the right time for it. Catra was always soft with her, but never vulnerable like this, especially ever since Adora had started working for Horde Productions full time. They filmed together, yes - but Adora was involved in every stage of production, while Catra spent most of that time still having to go to classes and study for finals. They both usually came home exhausted. Adora wasn’t going to disrupt the calmness of this moment, this - feeling of quiet inside just so she could gain the upper hand.
“Go back to sleep.” Adora murmured instead, rolling off of Catra. Catra groaned, already reaching for Adora, but Adora settled her back down and pecked her forehead. “I’ll make us some breakfast.”
Catra was already turning on her side to bury her face into the pillow, muttering something intelligible. Adora wished she could join her, spoon with her some more - make a home in the hollow of her neck. But post-production work already called.
She grabbed the camera and, throwing one last look at her fast asleep girlfriend, closed the door behind her.
Catra was calmly eating sandwiches and chips from the buffet table when Adora found her. She didn't even lift her eyes from her food to acknowledge her before starting to smirk. "I was good, wasn't I?"
"What are you doing here, Catra?"
"Mmh. Looking for a job." She inspected a weird-looking sandwich in the light. "Tough times for actors everywhere. What is in here, anyway?”
Adora narrowed her eyes. “I guess Sea Hawk actually went and got Mermista those seaweed sandwiches.”
“Ugh, gross. And his name is Sea Hawk?”
“I think his real name’s Chester, but nobody talks about it. Anyway.” She schooled her features back into a scowl. “I thought you never wanted to see me again.”
Catra was barely listening to her. Having discarded the kelp sandwich, she picked up a scone from the dessert plate and turned to Adora. “Open up."
Adora eyed the scone suspiciously, then Catra. Catra rolled her eyes, pushing it closer to her lips. “These were your favorites, weren’t they?”
Lemon scones. Adora had asked for them specifically. “You remember,” she said, and it might’ve been temporary insanity or just the long day, but she actually did open her mouth, tasting the lemony goodness on her tongue and, well, just the tips of Catra's fingers.
Catra never stopped looking at her the entire time, though Adora insisted on avoiding her gaze. It burned like shame wherever it touched.
"I never forget," Catra murmured, those same fingers lingering on Adora's jaw before retreating entirely. Even her eyes dropped back to the table, and Adora could finally breathe. "I remember a time when I was your favorite, too."
"Is that why you're here?" Adora wondered. "To reclaim that title?"
Catra just laughed - but not in the way she did when she thought things were actually funny. "Oh, Adora. I'm here to prove that I never lost it."
Adora hadn't been able to find a single reason not to call Catra back. Obviously, she hadn't been the one to take care of that - Glimmer had - but she'd still been surprised to find, from a quick look at her file, that Catra had changed numbers. Having deleted her number from her phone hadn't kept Adora from calling it way too many times after their break-up, though she'd never gotten an answer. Perhaps now she knew why.
Catra had been impeccable in every single aspect - her words, her poise, her attitude. She'd always thought of Catra as a great actress and watched with bated breath as she took on masks as quickly as she divested herself of them, as she dug deep inside herself and came out with fingers scraped and raw - but she'd always made it look so effortless. This, however? This had intent written all over it. This was Catra deliberately showing off how much better she'd gotten without Adora and playing up all of her strengths - and Adora, who’d modelled the character after her, had served her the chance on a silver platter.
Still, Adora had braced herself to see Catra one more time, on the expectation that it would be the last. There was no way she would pass the chemistry read. Catra was very good at faking feeling, but truly connecting with people had always been hard for her. Adora had been the sole recipient of her affection, if only because she'd known Catra before her trust issues started. The movies Adora had directed before had specifically worked around the problem by making Catra shine on her own, no romantic subplots needed.
This, however, was the first time Adora really tried her hand at romance, and like a bug spray or a spiked fence, she'd trusted that fact to act as a repellent to Catra’s attempts to infiltrate her movie. Instead, she was half an hour into watching Catra hit it off with Scorpia while Adora wrung her hands under the table.
It had a lot to do with the fact that Scorpia was a great Ado- a great Amelia: she was kind and nurturing, as well as naive and not the brightest tool in the shed. That wasn't to say she was only a good actress insofar as she resembled her character, but rather that she helped create a dynamic that was familiar to Catra. Or at least, that's the only explanation Adora could find to how comfortable Catra was, holding Scorpia's hand like a lifeline. It made Adora wish Chloe loved Amelia a little less and despised her more.
It would've been easy to frame Chloe as the villain of the story - the manipulative girlfriend who’d tried to take advantage of the protagonist’s success and then gotten mad when she’d wanted out of a toxic environment.
Instead, Adora had poured all of her love into Chloe, because when Catra had broken up with her, she’d had too much of it left. She’d taken Catra’s good and bad and all the hopes Adora had had for her, and made her complex, and fierce, and beautifully independent.
So it was the best version of Catra that stood in front of her now, being held by Scorpia, saying “So much in me was overshadowed by you. I couldn’t live like that anymore.”
And the best version of Adora replied "I didn't enjoy the light. Had you asked me to, I would've given it all to you."
Self-indulgence really was one of the greatest traps a writer could fall into.
“You’re working with Catra again?”
Adora looked up from her feet to glance at Miss Weaver, who was incredulously reading her new proposal from behind her sunglasses. Given that they were in a studio, this would’ve looked peculiar to anyone who didn’t know her; but for whatever reason, Miss Weaver’s eyes were extremely sensitive to the light. Years of directing, Adora couldn’t help but think - which had to be why she always relegated her work to someone else.
“Yes, ma’am. We work well together, I think.”
“I have no doubt in your abilities, Adora,” Miss Weaver assured her, “but Catra has already failed to impress me with her directing skills, and her acting skills have proven to be… subpar, so far.”
Adora didn't think Catra was a bad actress at all. Miss Weaver was just used to other standards and, for reasons she still couldn't grasp, really hated Catra, even though Adora's inspiration would have dwindled without her to focus it on. The only way Adora could think to repay her, when Miss Weaver had been this close to taking her off the internship, had been to give her a new purpose in her own movies.
"Well, she's never tried before now," Adora insisted. "Give her some time."
Miss Weaver sighed, glancing past Adora to check out what Catra was doing. She sat separate from everyone else, in that askew way of hers, and the script sat beside her, too, unopened, while Catra messed with her phone. She never lifted her head, except to growl at Kyle for accidentally shining a light on her too many times.
"I will never understand why you're so obsessed with that girl," Miss Weaver grunted, "but she's good for budget, if nothing else."
Adora was about to protest there, too, say that maybe she should have considered paying them after all, but Miss Weaver was already strutting off to kick Catra’s leg off her chair’s arm. Catra let out a startled yelp and looked ready to tear the culprit apart, until she finally realized who it was.
“I will have no more patience for your stumbling through your words,” Weaver threatened. “If you’re going to be here, learn the script or get out.”
“I know the script by heart,” Catra retorted. “I helped Adora write it.”
Miss Weaver huffed, and her voice dropped down enough for it to feel like a threat, but not low enough that Adora couldn’t hear it from a distance. “Sooner or later, Adora will find someone else to screw, and you’ll have to answer for yourself. You’d better start now.”
The entire studio seemed to freeze, with even Kyle’s lights growing colder. Without waiting for a response, Miss Weaver took her leave, the long purple skirt she was wearing trailing on the floor behind her. It seemed she wouldn’t be present for today’s rehearsal, either, and that Adora was in charge again.
In which case, she could afford to start a few minutes late. She rushed to Catra’s chair, dropping to her knees next to her. She reached for Catra to provide some comfort, but Catra batted her hands away, which confused Adora.
“Hey,” Adora whispered, her hands still held out between them, waiting for Catra to grasp them, “don’t listen to her.”
Catra turned her head away. “I don’t.”
“It’s not like her judgment matters, since she won’t even be here to oversee things.”
“Does my judgment matter?” Lonnie cut in. Adora hadn’t heard her walk in, and she looked extremely pissed off about that. “I think you shouldn’t try Weaver’s patience too much, Adora.”
Adora looked down in shame. Lonnie was about their age, and a film student too, but she hadn’t been as lucky as Adora or Catra and had ended up as Miss Weaver’s personal assistant. While she usually took her frustrations out on Catra, specifically, Adora had always felt guilty for not being able to help Lonnie, as well. “Did you need anything?”
“Yeah, actually. Someone outside's asking about you. Should I schedule an appointment?"
"What?" Most of her friends were at Horde Productions with her, and those who weren't knew not to bother her while she was working. "Is it someone I know?"
"I'm not sure," she said, checking the planner she always had with her. "Does Angella Brightmoon ring any bells?"
Having to work with Catra around all the time, despite what she’d done to her, for the sake of the movie, had been hard enough. Now Adora wanted to find whoever suggested a big start-of-production party was in order, and that it had to be at her own house, and strangle them.
It wasn't just that the script still needed attention - everyone thought Catra and Scorpia had great chemistry together, and it's not that Adora disagreed, it's just - maybe their interactions would've felt more charged if they were kept to a minimum. The simple intimacy of the near touch and all.
It wasn’t just that now she had to watch Catra and Scorpia be cute together outside of filming too, with Scorpia being utterly entranced by her and Catra guiding her into a dance with her hands on Scorpia’s hips in Adora’s own living room.
It was that Catra was actively trying to talk to her, bothering her like a wasp at a picnic whenever she saw her relaxing. She'd hoped that, once Catra had gotten what she wanted - the starring role in her movie, some misguided proof of her superiority - Catra would drop the obnoxious act and limit herself to being passive aggressive and trying to make her jealous. Of course, she saw now that the kind of coldness that would require didn't belong to Catra; that the fire Adora had been trying to stoke in her, to catch, to replicate, was still burning, waiting to be framed.
"Honestly, I don't understand why you're upset."
Unfortunately, this meant Catra wouldn't leave her alone any time soon. Adora turned away from the image of the others dancing and laughing in her living room and faced Catra, who'd come to meet her on the sidelines.
“Why would I be upset?” Adora eloquently replied, which earned her an eye roll from Catra.
“Look, I know working with me must be a hassle for you, but if I hadn’t come, your project would be stuck in development hell forever.”
Adora stared at her, feeling a weird blush come onto her cheeks. It was stuffy in here, and she’d been drinking more than usual. “What do you know?” Apparently, tipsy Adora was pouty and as defensive as a five year old caught stealing colored pencils. She’d have to file that for later.
Catra shrugged in response. "People in the film business talk, and I happen to know a lot of them. Or did you think I wouldn’t get another job after you decided to move on to bigger and better things?”
Adora had thought a lot about Catra in those three years, in a lot of different ways - but never about her career. Even if Catra had cared enough to keep her followers up-to-date, Adora wouldn’t know, since Catra had her blocked on all social media.
Adora almost crushed the paper cup she was holding. Yes, paper cup - it was all she could do on short notice, since her house, while larger than most, didn’t come pre-equipped with wine glasses for an entire crew. Then she said, tilting her head back and downing the rest of its contents right afterwards: “Do you like putting words in my mouth?”
“I like putting your words in mine,” Catra replied nonchalantly, which had Adora choke on the drink that had just made its way down her throat. “It’s what I’ve always done. But still - they remain your words.”
Adora coughed more than a few times, batting at her chest to try to clear her lungs of liquid. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Catra sighed and tilted her head towards the hallway. “Look, can you come with me for a second? I’ll get more drinks.”
It occurred to her that this would be the first normal interaction she had with Catra in three years - a first actual chance to talk to her and fix things. But while she'd have sold a kidney once for the chance to have Catra listen to her, to explain, to apologize, the idea unsettled her now. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“It’s work related,” Catra insisted. Then after a beat: “Kind of.”
If she was right about what Catra wanted to talk about, then Adora had dug her own grave. She couldn’t exactly refuse to hear Catra’s concerns if she was masquerading them as work talk.
So Adora got up, a bit slow on her feet, and watched Catra pour two more glasses of wine like it was nothing, like she hadn’t already drunken half of Adora’s cabinet. Part of Adora distinctly realized that she’d never seen Catra like this - not when they lived together and went to college parties every weekend, not when Lonnie had made them discover the thrill of underage drinking - but that thought was long gone by the time they got to Adora’s room, like it had never been there at all.
Adora sat down on her bed, careful not to spill anything, then quickly regretted her decision when Catra dropped down right next to her, lying close enough to touch but deliberately out of immediate reach.
Catra spread out on the bed sheet and, satisfied, made a humming noise of approval. “This is quite the upgrade from the bed we had in college. Remember? We joined our beds together and spent all night crammed on those rock hard mattresses because we just wanted to hold each other.”
Adora remembered, but didn’t say. “What do you want, Catra?”
Her eyes darting to the script lying on the nightstand on Adora's side of the bed, Catra pulled herself into a sitting position and reached over Adora to grab it. Adora was too taken aback by her sudden nearness, by the waft of her perfume, to protest.
When Catra settled back against the covers, she flipped the script open and rifled through it distractedly, betraying nervousness on her part, too. So much of what she did carelessly was just a front, and Adora had been willing to spend her life trying to get to the heart of her, before being cut off. Some inexplicable sadness started at her core while she waited for Catra to speak.
When she did, Catra wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I don’t understand my character’s motivations, is all.”
Adora’s eyes, instead, would fixate on the slightest movement of her fingers, every change in her features. She wasn’t used to looking at her directly for too long, without her camera acting as a mediator. She thought even before, that must’ve been the case. "What about them isn't clear to you?"
“It’s just - the way you wrote it, it seemed obvious to me that Chloe actually cared for Amelia. Sure, it was always hard on her self-esteem, but she could’ve gotten out of that relationship sooner, and she didn’t. Then all of a sudden, she acts out of her own self-interest? Something’s not right.”
Adora almost hoped someone would open the door and come running in - this was not how she wanted to have this discussion. Unfortunately, all of her friends seemed to still be partying in the living room, if the booming sound of music coming from there was any indication.
“That was my first thought as well,” she mumbled under her breath. Maybe two could play at that game, or maybe the few drinks she had were making her too bold. “But you know what they say - sometimes characters just take on a life of their own. And I think - I think Amelia’s love just wasn’t enough for Chloe, at the time. She was so overcome by this need to be someone and find her own success that she left everything she cared about, everything that made her her, behind, and none of it made her happy in the end.”
Catra had been uncharacteristically serious through the whole discussion up to that point, which is why Adora had to do a double take when she started cackling maniacally.
“You’ve got this so wrong,” she managed to say while catching her breath. “You’re so wrong, Adora, it’s actually sad.”
Adora just scoffed. “Well, what would you know?”
“No, no, Adora. What would you know?” Her sharp tone suddenly cut in through the laughter. “Why does this story entirely rest on my character? My flaws, my bad decisions - where does your character fit in all of this?”
“They’re both my characters.” She was playing dumb not because she wanted to avoid confrontation - although, again, this had played out a lot differently in her head - but because if Catra had something to say, then she’d damn well have to spell it out for her, for once.
Catra, a notorious fan of ambiguity for the sole sake of getting angry at being misunderstood, wasn’t happy about it, having been deprived of her prime excuse to lash out. “Only one of them is based on you. It’s no coincidence she’s the protagonist, despite doing absolutely nothing remarkable throughout the movie.”
“Nothing? She moves forward. She learns to live again. Is that not remarkable enough for you?”
Catra rolled her eyes and threw herself back on her elbows. “Indeed, but it’s not a coming-of-age story you wrote. It’s a love story.”
“It’s a bit of both,” Adora protested.
“And in the context of that love story, your protagonist absolutely refused to pull her weight. I just find it unrealistic that all the blame fell on Chloe when Amelia did nothing to mend that relationship - not after it was broken, and not before.”
Something in Adora froze at hearing those words, though she didn’t let it show. Catra had been her best friend since - well, since either of them could remember, and her girlfriend since they’d both realized, not too long after starting college, that they enjoyed living together a little too much. This meant she knew how to cut deep - knew better than anyone how much Adora had always had on her plate, how much she blamed herself for never doing enough, and was fully willing to take advantage of it for her perverse mind games.
But no matter how she twisted things, Adora wasn’t the only one who needed to own up to her choices.
“You left me,” Adora seethed, trying to convey a sense of calm she didn’t feel. “I may have left Horde Productions, but I never meant to leave you. You cut me off without giving me a chance to explain. Did you expect me to cry until you decided I’d had enough?”
“I expected you to fight a little harder,” Catra admitted, “like you fight for everyone and everything else. Instead, you got a better job and left me in the dust -”
“I did fight for you.” Adora couldn’t believe her ears. “I gave you the chance to prove yourself over and over again."
There was that laugh again. “I would’ve loved to pick up your scraps, Adora, but Miss Weaver didn’t even judge me worthy of that. She threw me out the moment you left." She took another swig of her drink to punctuate her words. "Of course, then Horde Productions was shut down not a month after. Several allegations of workplace abuse, they say - all thanks to your guardian angel."
Adora knew, of course. Angella Brightmoon might’ve been just a movie producer, but she was a producer with a vendetta. In his youth, her husband Micah had been one of the first victims of Horde Productions, and he and his wife had put their careers at risk trying to gather enough evidence that would put the Horde out of business forever. Their own production studio ended up employing many of the people they’d saved from the Horde - including Adora herself, as a special thanks for testifying against Miss Weaver.
Nothing Angella had told her was really new to her. She had registered Miss Weaver’s general mistreatment of both actors and crew, and how the interns worked long hours for no pay, and how sometimes those interns were even younger than herself. But somehow, putting it into perspective like that - it had changed everything for her.
“It had to be done, Catra. We would’ve been better off without them.”
“You would have,” Catra confirmed. “I would’ve been dragged along for the ride again.”
“I thought I was helping you.”
“You never helped me. You just liked a challenge. You thought you were portraying the real me, and that you were making everyone else see it, too, when you couldn’t have been farther off.”
"I would never be so presumptuous,” Adora said - but it was a lie. She had been that presumptuous. Part of her had felt pride at the idea of being the only one to know who Catra was, and had wanted people to acknowledge it.
Catra's smile was sad. Adora couldn't tell if she was being pitiful towards Adora or towards herself. "Weren't we best friends, Adora, before we were girlfriends? Didn't you know me better than that?"
Truthfully, Adora didn't remember getting to know Catra. She felt like she'd been born knowing everything there was to know about her, like her love had never needed reason to exist.
"You never talked to me about any of this. If you had told me it was hurting you this much, that I was hurting you this much -" She was scrambling to defend herself, because she’d been naive, yes - but Catra had never communicated her discomfort to Adora, and instead of opening that discussion, she’d fled and plunged Adora into the darkest time of her life. She'd meant to lift Catra up, portray her as she saw her, and Catra had felt like Adora was forcing her into a role and closed herself off even more. “Why did you never tell me?"
Catra actually seemed to hesitate before replying. “I don’t know. I was stupid. I guess - part of me wanted to know who I was without you. And if I’d talked to you about it, I would’ve caved."
Adora sat silent for a second. Catra had inched closer while speaking, perhaps unconsciously, and Adora could've reached out and touch her, hug her, bring her comfort in any way - but she didn't. Catra didn't either. Adora's nerves stood on end, though, as if reaching through the space between them. They hadn't been this close in years, and yet Catra, to her, was still no more tangible than a mass of pixels on camera.
“I never wanted you to feel like a project, Catra. I’m sorry it didn't come across that way,” Adora murmured, never taking her eyes off Catra. This was good - she felt like they were reaching something. An understanding. "Was that what you wanted? Validation?"
Catra's eyes flicked to her again. “I don’t want your validation.” Adora watched as Catra raised herself on her knees, her face now hovering over Adora's. "I want your attention.”
Adora waited to see what she would do, if she would say anything else. If she'd raise her hand and touch Adora's face, maybe. If she'd brush her hair back, comment on how long it had gotten, how it was finally out of that ponytail. How her promise ring was missing.
But the door burst open, and the two girls rushed to opposite sides of the bed as Scorpia walked in.
Scorpia seemed to assess the situation before realizing she'd intruded on something. "Whoops! Sorry, were you - were you busy?"
"Nope," Catra replied before Scorpia even finished her sentence. "Not busy at all."
"Okay," Scorpia said, still looking at Adora suspiciously. She couldn't imagine how bad it would look like, if what she thought was going on was actually going on. If people at the Horde had complained, things had changed enough now that her career could actually be at risk. "Well, they're playing your favorite song, Catra. Did you want to dance?"
Of course they were playing her favorite song. Adora hadn't thrown away Catra's favorite cds when they'd broken up.
"Sure," Catra replied with a shrug - and left the room without giving Adora another look.
Next time, Adora told herself - next time they would party at Mermista's house. Not all of her music would have spoken of Catra - and she had a pool, at least.
It’s not that Adora wasn’t paying attention before. It’s just that Catra had never demanded it as much and as often as she was right now - never challenged Adora to abandon her point of view before, because Adora’s vision had always been right, had been golden, and see things for what they were. Adora had wanted to unravel the mystery of Catra for all the time she’d known her, and now here Catra was, finally baring herself to her and telling her: Look.
Adora looked. It was all she could do, these days, to look at Catra and make it be enough. She watched as she and Scorpia touched, both on-set and off, and thought about Catra’s fingers on her chin. She watched them have lunch together, or take a coffee break, and remembered how scones had tasted like when Catra had pushed them in her mouth.
Catra had been to Adora like a whole sky, and Adora had studied one of her blank spots so closely that she’d missed the rest of the stars. To finally put enough distance between them to see it all was as exhilarating as it was torturous. On one hand, Catra was not only letting herself be seen, but making herself understood; on the other, Adora had to deal with Catra having love scenes with someone else.
It was a crucial scene - the climax of the whole movie. Chloe and Amelia finally reconnected, Chloe admitting to all of her faults and promising to stay away, Amelia saying she was gonna love her anyway. Maybe Catra had a point in believing that the entire story spoke to Adora’s desires only, because after all this was what Adora had been reduced to the moment Catra gave her reason to believe hope was not all lost - this, her longing.
She kept watching even as Scorpia grabbed Catra’s wrist while she was leaving, pulled her back, and touched her lips to hers. It happened quickly, as quickly as Adora had planned for it to be back when she was writing the script, and yet to Adora it lasted something of an eternity. Scorpia’s arms sliding around Catra, holding her, bringing her close; their chests colliding, their lips pressing together, Catra’s hands coming up to cup Scorpia’s face.
She wondered, had Catra ever been tender with anyone after her? Had she also been presumptuous to assume that she’d been it for Catra, that she could hurt her as much as Catra had hurt her just by staying away from her?
She was tired of wondering. Tired of watching. She was pretty sure the kiss shouldn’t have gone on for that long. She was about to fake cough when Catra pulled away on her own, and completely threw whatever Adora had written for that scene - nothing, if she remembered correctly; just a tense look between them, a tentative smile, and then the lights would go out on them bit by bit - out the window.
“I’m sorry,” she said, looking at Scorpia. “I messed everything up.”
Scorpia looked confused, and slightly panicked at the idea of having to go off-script. Adora wasn’t going to yell cut, though, so tough luck there. “You didn’t,” she stammered at last.
“I thought I wanted to hurt you,” Catra insisted, “when all I really wanted was for you to see me. No one else - just you.”
And suddenly, Adora couldn’t let Scorpia speak for her anymore. “I’ve tried to see you. You always hid from me.”
Scorpia, baffled, looked at Adora. “Say the words, Scorpia,” Adora urged, feeling her cheeks burning. “This is good. We’re still rolling.”
Scorpia did as instructed.
“I’m not hiding now.”
Adora had to push a little more. Just a little more. “Do you promise?”
Catra didn’t even wait for Scorpia to repeat the line. “I promise.”
All the breath went out of Adora, suddenly, finally. “Cut. Take five.”
“Uh, okay,” Scorpia mumbled, trying to make sense of the whole situation. She glanced at Catra first, but Catra wasn’t paying her any mind, was just rushing out of set. “Not gonna lie, that was pretty weird.”
Adora was about to call for Catra before she got away, but there was no need. The scream died in her throat before it even started because Catra was waiting for her around the corner, head low.
“I was thinking of you,” she confessed, breathlessly, “when I was kissing her.”
“I know.” Adora nodded along. “I know.”
Catra clearly didn’t expect that response. She felt exposed, maybe, like all her vulnerability wasn’t paying off. Like people always knew first, and better, what she would say, and how she should say it. Adora would work on it. She’d learn to listen, if Catra was willing to talk to her more, but now, now all Adora needed to do was get her own words out.
“I’m tired of watching you through a screen.”
“You don’t have to,” Catra reminded her. Then, apparently mindless of everything that was going on and all the people who could see them if only they decided to get a coffee break, Catra leant in, grabbing Adora’s waist to pull her into her, and kissed her there, right in the middle of the hallway. It didn’t last long enough for Adora to pull away, but long enough for her head to spin. The spot where her skin connected with Adora’s was, for one moment, burning hot.
“I'm real," Catra whispered against her lips, before going back in, “and real people touch.”
The hand on Adora’s waist gripped tight for a second, as if to punctuate that, and then trailed down over the hip, down to trace the inside of Adora’s thigh. And that - that would have done her in, had there not been people around to stop her. The fact that she’d heard none of them said more about Adora’s focus being somewhere else than her and Catra’s ability to go unnoticed.
She pushed Catra back, just slightly, almost apologetically. “Not here. Not until the movie’s done.” There was no way she would put Catra through the same things she’d dealt with in the Horde. Catra had earned this role. No one would think she’d been given a shortcut to success again.
“But,” Adora breathed out when she saw Catra’s face fall, “you could always help me rewrite the script. At my place. With - with no one watching.”
A tense look, a tentative smile. The lights going out bit by bit.
And they were still there - just out of frame.