Work Text:
* This is a paid commission and may not be reposted, edited, or reused in any manner.
People should come with warning labels. Or at least she should. Hers would read: if it can go wrong, it will go wrong—disastrously wrong. I understand this, and yet, every time, I still allow myself to be consumed by her, knowing full well that it could only result in a hopeless conclusion.
Yesterday was no exception. What should have been an ordinary field trip to a film set turned into a night I will never forget and one I wish I could say I regretted.
At the end of the trip, we stepped aside for a moment to talk. She was being her usual self, blatantly open and persistent about the relationship she considers to be developing between us. She’s so bold and brash, and yet, so passionate in her pursuits. She is unlike the rest of them. There is something more that I seem doomed to resist. I instinctively pulled her away from the group, hoping to confront her privately. We wandered further away, and the studio doors closed behind us, leaving us trapped. No one else. No distractions. No wandering eyes of passing observers. No pressure to fill a particular role. It was just us. Just her and I.
I attempted to refuse her advances, to deny her pursuits and interests, to keep her away. I wanted to ignore her completely, but her tenacity overwhelmed me. I let my guard down. We talked. I dare say it was narrowly satisfying. For a moment, I even allowed myself to believe that maybe it wasn’t a bad idea, that the night could be something. I felt comfortable with her. I became complacent; I forgot our roles and let her in.
Of course, she would dress inappropriately for a situation such as this. She noted that she wasn’t planning on being stuck in a giant warehouse overnight. As infuriating as it was, her logic was not flawed. I let her borrow my jacket.
It should have ended there. However, it wasn’t enough. As the night pressed on, the colder the studio became. Despite finding appropriate bedding thanks to a honeymoon suite set, it still wasn’t enough. There is a reason why mittens are warmer than gloves, shared heat between fingers or, in this case, persons is warmer than separate coverings. I should have known better. I think I did, but I ignored it. She looked so cold; her body trembled despite her blanket. I let her lie down beside me and I held her in my arms. It was the biggest mistake I could make. She was only supposed to stay for a few minutes, get the chill off, and then go back to the bed while I remained on the floor. Once I held her, I didn’t want to let her go. I talked, and surprisingly she listened. I let myself enjoy her company. I opened up to her despite knowing how dangerous that was.
I don’t know what I said to her as sleep overtook me or perhaps in the morning as I awoke. However, I could tell that something had changed when I met her gaze in the morning. I fear what I may have confessed in my weary state and the implications I may have unwittingly allowed to rise given my behavior.
Thankfully, we snuck out the side exit without being discovered when the studio opened for the day. She returned my jacket and slipped away without another word.
I still smell her on it. I endeavored to drop it off at the cleaners on the way home, wanting to rid myself of any further temptations. I know what transpired last night can never happen again. Yet, I could not do it. Instead, it sits beside me, still wrapped in the memory of her.
A looming reminder, a specter of the consequences that await us if we allow ourselves to forget who we are and give in to who we wished we could be. In another life, perhaps. In this one—I can’t even allow the thought. I must resist what came between us. It was a moment of weakness, one I cannot repeat for the sake of my career and the future she is destined to have.