Chapter Text
“And that’s a wrap!”
And just like that, the world was in slow motion. The studio audience had risen to their feet, applauding and whistling while the director took a mock bow. His fictional mom still had her arm around him, pulling him closer and pressing a kiss to his cheek before leaning her head against his. There were tears from her and from his two fictional brothers who had flooded on to the set along with the rest of his made for television family. His extended family. All the Skinners were in the same place for one last time, celebrating the eldest son going off to college and the end of a decade. Thomas didn’t know when he started crying, but he also didn’t know when he started suffocating, all the emotions and noise in the room overwhelming him until he had to pull away from his costar and dash off the set.
He slammed the door of his dressing room closed and pressed his back to it, taking his first real breath since the director had said action on the final take. It had been an emotional scene, an emotional day, an emotional year. The whole cast and crew of Under One Roof knew that the tenth season would be their last after nine years of growing up or growing old together. Thomas had been part of the former. He had started the show when he was nine, playing the eldest son of a single mom who had invited her sister and college roommate to live with her after the death of her husband. The show warmed the hearts of America and people became accustomed to calling him TJ and asking him to say his signature catchphrase. Everyone loved TJ, the responsible and smart boy next door who was good-natured even when he made mistakes. After ten years, it was finally time to leave TJ behind.
Thomas took another deep breath and shed the letterman jacket that suddenly felt uncomfortable and restricting. He let go of the prop he had run off set with: the acceptance letter from the university of TJ’s dreams. As all the costume pieces and props fell away, Thomas felt his heart rate slow. His eyes flickered up to the mirror and he didn’t see TJ Skinner anymore. He just saw Thomas and he wasn’t exactly sure what that meant.
A knock on the door interrupted what could have been a crisis and Thomas quickly threw open the door, greeting the short red head grinning up at him. “Come on, you’re gonna miss the last bow.” Chuck didn’t even give Thomas time to respond before he was scurrying back toward the set. Leave it to cousin Ollie to bring a smile to Thomas’s face. With a small sigh, Thomas picked up his jacket again and slung it over his shoulders, sparing the mirror one last look before he walked out the door for his last bow.
Thomas collapsed on to the couch with a loud groan, his whole body sore from a full night of standing and accepting congratulations. But sorer than any bone in his body was his face, strained from all the smiles and schmoozing he had to do. Thomas had never been a fan of large gatherings, the socializing often proving to be too tiresome for him to take after too much time. The only times he had found any peace was when he was with costars who knew the exhaustion he felt. Still, he would have traded all his happy conversations with them for a whole night on his couch with time to reflect on what had happened.
Under One Roof was over. TJ Skinner was dead. Technically not dead, Thomas corrected himself quickly. Somewhere in a happy suburban town, TJ was getting ready for college with the girl of his dreams and planning a life for himself. He just wouldn’t have writers to put words in his mouth anymore and he wouldn’t have Thomas to recite them. But TJ still ended his streak as America’s golden boy with a happy ending and a bright future and Thomas found himself envying the lucky bastard. He didn’t see anyone coming over to give him a nice layout for the how rest of his life was going to turn out.
The universe seemed to choose that very moment to have a large stack of paper fall on to his lap, eliciting another groan from Thomas. There was another loud thump and Thomas looked over at his roommate, best friend, and personal assistant, all wrapped up in one, who was grinning like he knew a huge secret that was just dying to torture Thomas with. Minho kept glancing down at the pile of paper and then back up at Thomas, impatiently waiting for him to ask the inevitable. Too tried to do anything else, Thomas decided to bite. “Okay, what is this?”
“Your future,” Minho said, holding out the last syllable of future and making strange hand gestures that Thomas couldn’t help but laugh at. Minho broke into a fit of laughter moments later, shaking his head. “I don’t really know. The rat man just gave it to me to give to you.”
The nickname rat man never ceased to make Thomas smile, even though Minho had made it up over five years ago. That was way back when Minho was only a troublemaking extra on Under One Roof and ruined any chance of have Janson as an agent when he ran over the man’s foot with his scooter. Twice. When Thomas and Minho told the story now, Thomas always said that was the moment he realized Minho was destined to be his personal assistant when in actuality, the decision was only made two years ago. Minho decided he was sick of being a background actor and wanted to go to college. Instead of cutting ties with Thomas and the show completely, Thomas jokingly asked if Minho would be his personal assistant and Minho agreed on the condition he could live in the apartment they shared free of charge. Most of his personal assistant jobs only consisted of picking up the occasional coffee, making sure Thomas got his scripts, and being a pain in Janson’s ass.
“S’ you gonna at least see what it is?” Minho asked between giant handfuls of chips. Thomas made a move to grab a handful from the bowl only to have Minho smack his hand away.
“Come on, I’m starving.”
“Sorry, they said not to feed the animals.”
Thomas folded his hands over the script and waited for Minho to get a smug look of triumph on his face before he made his move, snatching up a large handful of chips before Minho could even make a strangled cry of protest. With a triumphant look of his own, Thomas popped a chip in his mouth and finally took a real look at the script on his lap.
In big block letters on the title page read the words THE CODE BREAKER. It would have sounded like the beginning of a low budget backer movie if Thomas had not already heard the title a few times before and seen it in print at least a dozen more. It was on the book that Chuck and his fictional brothers always read and talked about in between takes. It was the YA trilogy that hoped to rival the Hunger Games. In other words, it was a franchise.
“Does rat man really think I have what it takes to star in a YA series?” Thomas asked, staring down at the script in disbelief.
“It’s happened before,” Minho said with a shrug. “And who said anything about starring, ya’ narcissist. You could be going for the role of red shirt number five.”
Thomas scoffed as he pretended to be offended, but he couldn’t lie that a pang of relief hit him at the idea of being a one shot character that met his doom early on. Being the head of a YA movie meant at least a year of commitment along with a lengthy press tour and that’s not even considering what would happen if the first movie was a hit. Thomas could become the next Harry Potter or Katniss Everdeen, but wasn’t he already TJ Skinner? What other names would (or should) he attach to his face?
His own thoughts were giving him a headache and it must have showed because Minho took the script off his lap and tossed it on the table. “Enough boring work stuff. Wanna play Destiny? I’ll even let you have another chip.”
“Gee, you’re so generous,” Thomas deadpanned, but got up to grab the controllers and boot up the game system.
“What are personal assistants for?”
Thomas woke up the next morning with an unforgiving headache and a crick in his neck. He scanned the living room and found no sight of Minho. The only thing that caught Thomas’s eye was the bulky script still on the coffee table. Thomas groaned at the sight and flopped back down on the couch, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment and praying for sleep to come again. When the light shining from the window refused to go ignored, Thomas opened his eyes again and reached for his phone, wondering what fresh hell the new day would bring.
To his pleasant surprise, the only messages Thomas had were all from Minho. The long line of texts said something about a morning run and something else about expecting breakfast when he got back. Thomas rolled his eyes and fired back:
[9:05am] pretty sure that’s the job of a personal assistant
Thomas did not even have time to stretch and stand up before his phone vibrated.
[9:06am] something something take a vacation minho u deserve it blah blah
[9:06am] that was u btw
Rolling his eyes, Thomas stood up and walked into the kitchen, leaving his phone on the counter and letting Minho wait for a few minutes. He walked over to the fridge, an appliance he couldn’t remember the last time he used, and opened it. He had hoped to be greeted by tons of options and instead found at least three containers of expired food and not much else. It did not come as much of a surprise; neither he nor Minho enjoyed grocery shopping and even if they did, it would have been hard to find time. But this was life after their television show days and Thomas had to assume that meant more grocery shopping in their future. But it could still wait another day. Grabbing his phone off the counter, Thomas ignored the other texts Minho had bombarded him with and asked:
[9:11am] muffin or scone ya shank
The coffee shop was bustling with young people in wide framed glasses and knitted hats carrying laptops under one arm and large coffees in the other hand. A few chatted in the line as they waited for a refill and others took up oversized couches in the dark corners of the shop, but most seemed to exist as solitary creatures, heads ducked and eyes staring at a computer screen while their fingers pressed eagerly against the keyboard, filling the café with the sound of quick tapping. It was as if Thomas had entered a different world that existed far outside the fake suburban street the Skinners lived on where all the neighborhood kids aspired to be dentists of accountants that would eventually turn into their parents. Here, in this coffee shop, was where the writers of Under One Roof once honed their craft. Though, Thomas had to wonder if any of the young faces in the shop imagined their lives ten years from now being spent in a large writing room working on scripts for a popular show too many people referred to as overrated.
Suddenly, Thomas began feeling self-conscious and out of place, an interloper who didn’t have the creative capacity to drink the coffee the café served. Another cog in the machine that shouldn’t be allowed past the door. Thomas did his best to swallow down those insecurities as he moved further into the shop, approaching the counter with his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his eyes scanning the menu rather than looking at the barista.
“Can I get you anything?” the barista asked in a happy tone that managed to put Thomas a bit more at ease.
Barely processing any of the words on the menu, Thomas asked for the only order he knew by heart. “A medium hot coffee, black. And two blueberry muffins.” Realizing his eyes were still transfixed on the wooden board hanging above the counter, Thomas let his eyes flicker down to the young barista and gave her a small smile of gratitude. He wished he could say he missed the way her eyes widened and her mouth parted ever so slightly and he wished he could say he had no idea why, but it would be a lies on both counts.
“Coming right up,” the barista said after spending a bit too long staring at Thomas. She hastily wrote something onto a cup before shoving it into the hands of her tired looking coworker, eyes never leaving Thomas. “Hey, are you that guy from…”
“Nah, I just look like him.” A pang of guilt coursed through Thomas as he lied straight to the girl’s face, but he did not have the energy to answer questions, sign autographs, or pose for pictures. Seeing the way her face fell, Thomas hastily added, “I get that all the time though. Like we’re long lost twins or something…” He trailed off at the end, eyes moving to study the floor rather than face the disappointment he had directly caused. Thomas was sure the barista knew he was lying. Long lost twin? What utter bullshit. In a moment of regret, Thomas looked back up and opened his mouth to apologize and offer her anything she wanted, but out of the corner of his eye, Thomas saw his coffee being poised for pick up. Out of crippling awkwardness, Thomas made a beeline toward the opposite side of the counter without another word and picked up his coffee, now anxious to leave the café and breathe fresh air again.
With coffee and the bag of muffins in hand, Thomas made a move for the door, ducking past a group of young women chatting about television shows. Suddenly, the title Under One Roof was dropped and Thomas felt his chest constrict. He picked up speed and kept his head down, paying no mind to where he was walking and only caring about not letting anyone else see his face. It was only when that same face slammed into the shoulder of another person that Thomas finally looked up, his cheeks instantly turning a bright shade of red.
Papers had scattered all over the ground and Thomas could hear the lull in every conservation as people craned their necks to see what moron caused the mishap. It seemed only fitting that his effort to go unseen ended in disaster, but Thomas did not have time to reflect on any irony. He was too busy mumbling apologies and frantically moving to help pick up the papers that had been scattered across the ground. As he gathered a few pieces in his arms, he saw bits of dialogue and italicized stage directions. Of course he ran down a writer and made a mess of their life’s work. Who else could he have offended in a coffee shop in the West Village?
“You’re lucky these are page numbered,” a voice muttered from slightly above him. “Bloody shank.” The insult was added as an afterthought, but it didn’t offend Thomas. If anything, it just made him notice that the person he ran into had a strong British accent.
After the last of the papers had been gathered, Thomas stood up and held out the small stack, prepared with another apology for the inconvenience. When his victim finally straightened up, Thomas was met with a pair of brown eyes and a frustrated scowl under a head of messy blonde hair. He was only a bit taller than Thomas and not as muscular, but the way his eyebrow’s knitted together in annoyance and his shoulders tensed made Thomas sure this man could kill him had the pages not been numbered. The very idea only made it more difficult for Thomas to stammer out an apology.
“Look, I’m really sorry about that. I…I honestly wasn’t watching where I was going,” Thomas admitted, still holding on to the remaining pages.
“And I here thought you did it on purpose as a cute way for us to meet.” The sarcasm caught Thomas by surprised, but he knew he deserved it. The blonde didn’t hesitate to take the rest of his play from Thomas’s grip, but he did stall for a minute to study Thomas’s face. Thomas wanted to squirm under the scrutiny, but tried to remain still and not embarrass himself any further. “Have you ever been in a commercial? Maybe for cat litter or rash cream?”
Thomas couldn’t hold back a small laugh, the question taking him by surprise and giving him a little relief. “Nah, but I did once audition toilet paper one. They went with animated bears instead.” Thomas swore he saw the corners of the blonde’s mouth turn upward, but it could have been a trick of the light. The frown persisted and all the blonde did in response to his joke was shrug his shoulders. In one last effort to make the situation less awkward, Thomas extended his coffee free hand toward him. “By the way, I’m Thomas…”
“Thomas Green,” the blonde finished for him and Thomas must have been staring at him dumbfounded because his frown finally transformed into a smirk. “I may speak with a bloody accent, but my roommate still forces me to watch American television.”
The word “force” did not sit well with Thomas and he was preparing his comeback when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned his head quickly and saw one of the women he had passed moments before slamming into the blonde writer. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes filled with excitement and Thomas spotted the pen and napkin clutched in one hand before she even had to ask, “You’re Thomas Green right? From Under One Roof?” Swallowing quickly, Thomas nodded without word. “See, I told them it was really you. We all absolutely love your show. Love it.” She emphasized the word love a little too heartily and Thomas swore he heard a low chuckle from behind him or it could have just been another trick of his imagination.
Not that it actually mattered. The woman had motioned for her friends to come over, cell phones in hand. Everyone wanted a picture with TJ Skinner and Thomas turned on his one hundred watt smile that strained at the edges, knowing what his agent and manager would each say to him if someone reported a bad experience with him and spread it all over the Internet. In the midst of photos and name signings, Thomas remembered he had never said a formal goodbye to the blonde. He looked towards the counter, but did not see the fair hair or the lean figure. Fixing on another smile, Thomas waited until the photo was taken before glancing behind and looking through the glass. He swore he caught a glimpse of messy blonde hair waking across the street, but he already judged all his senses to be faulty. Thomas turned his head back around and swallowed down the disappointment. One of the first somewhat normal conversations he had in days and he hadn’t even learned the man’s name.