Chapter Text
The set buzzed with the kind of organized chaos that only came with the first week of filming. Crew members hurried past carrying lighting equipment. Wardrobe racks rolled across polished concrete floors, and somewhere down the hall someone was trying—and failing—to coax a stubborn coffee machine back to life that was already holding onto a thread.
Ryan Gosling stood in a small group with the director and a few other crew members he vaguely remembers meeting at some point when he went to meet James Ortiz and some of the puppeteers he'd be on set with, wanting to know the man who would be the main puppeteer of Rocky.
He was focused on the director, currently holding a copy of the latest revisions to Project Hail Mary folded in one hand, listening as the director explained a slight change to one of the scenes.
“And to cut down on some of the screen time, we’ll have you cut out this part of the book where he does all this math for this part of the script where he just checks the stars since it gets to the point a bit faster without ruining the flow.”
Ryan nodded easily.
"Got it."
Professional.
Calm.
Collected.
Most people who have met him would refer to him in some form of those words. He always made sure to be as approachable and as professional as possible, Keep a calm head on his shoulders and a kind smile directed at others. Always made sure to make a positive work environment when people were around him.
He always tried spending the first week getting to know as many people as possible that he'd be working with, it always made things feel more personal and made others feel seen.
By lunchtime he'd already learned half the main crew's names. He thanked people who brought him wardrobe adjustments. Stayed after rehearsal to make sure the wire team had everything they needed.
And he did it with a calm collection that made it so if anyone had asked, they would've said Ryan never seemed stressed.
They would've been wrong
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It was quiet as the sun had started setting by this time meaning most people had already headed off to rest for the night, most of the crew got up way earlier than he did to pre-set up everything for the day. While others stayed back to finish whatever it was they were finishing, wire-work? Maybe some fixes to the back drops or something, he wasn't too sure, nor was he really worried about it at this moment.
The crunching of gravel could be heard under his shoes as he walked to his trailer, the wind tousled his hair and made his cardigan, that he may or may not have asked to keep from ryland graces wardrobe because of how comfortable and soft it was, swayed around his waist from where it hung.
He heard someone yell his name right as he got to his trailer door. He silently groaned to himself, so close to freedom before he looked over and smiled with a wave at whoever it was. One of the crew members waved bye as they shouted out a “Good job today” before scampering off. He watched them leave for a second, keeping the pleasant smile on his face before he opened the door and slipped in.
The moment he stepped into his trailer and shut the door, the smile slipped away.
It had been a strained one, and he hoped from the distance the guy was, they couldn't tell, or if they could they'd understand how tired he was after running around trying to fit in as much final costume fittings, rig set ups for his body build, double checking certain parts of the script, and other stuff that he really couldn't be bothered to think about, it was just too much for one day.
His shoulders sagged beneath the weight of another twelve-hour day. He pressed his palms into his eyes and he let out a breath. He could feel a headache that had been forming for the past hour throbbing behind where he pushed. For a long moment he simply stood there.
It felt like he had to take a second to pull off his actor persona, well… not that it wasn't him, he just kinda exaggerated what was already there. Forced out extra energy he didn't always have, made happy faces when sometimes he wanted to cry, as an actor he was always acting, even in his day to day life.
Finally, he slips off the cardigan and tosses it over onto the back of one of the chairs and runs a hand down his face as if to wipe the tired off, and failing miserably.
Then his gaze drifted toward the cabinet across from him. He already knew what was inside, he only had a few things he would always bring with him onto sets. A small coloring book tucked next to some crayons. A sippy cup, and his favorite, trusted pacifier. If he remembered correctly, the toy of choice this time was legos but he didnt really care about that right now.
Pushing off the door where he had unconsciously leaned against, when did he do that? He walked over to the cabinet, crouching down, hand hovering over the cabinet handle. He glances back at the door, he should probably lock it first, not that people barge in but- it never hurts.
He quickly walks back over to the door, turning the lock before he's back at his previous crochet position, blinds had already been left drawn from this morning. He finally opens the door and the first thing he grabs is his trusted pacifier. Although he hates to admit it, he constantly needed some form of oral stimuli.
Whether it be chewing gum, a teether, his pacifier, chewing his nail even though he knew how bad of a habit that was. He even will suck on hard candy, just something, it helps clear his mind. It makes him think about when he did “The Gray Man” it had taken a while but he had eventually wore down the director to let him chew gum on set, he was one of those sticklers, and it eventually got incorporated into the character.
If he does nothing else, he at least wants his paci. He slips it between his lips and gives a content suck, giving a satisfied hum. He looked around at his empty trailer and gave a soft whine, not being a fan of how lonely his regression could get even though he's the one who had chosen to not tell anyone.
It wasn't something he was ashamed of… well, ashamed wasn't the word he'd use, embarrassed maybe, shy, not really wanting anyone to know about this side of him, almost viewing it as taboo in a way.
If he was rocky, this would have been his version of eating. It was simply private.
When he was younger, he didn't have words for it. He only knew that soft things made the world feel quieter. And if he happened to suck his thumb until he was 12, well no one had to know but him. As an adult, he'd eventually learned there was a name for it. Age regression. It was simply how his mind coped when life became too loud.
He'd let himself settle into the quiet comfort of his trailer, pulling on an oversized sweatshirt, making himself something warm to drink, and wrapping himself up in a blanket.
He decided to put on an old animated movie as his pacifier bobbed softly in his mouth and then simply curled up under his favorite pastel blanket until his breathing slowed and the world stopped feeling so overwhelming for a little bit.
It had only been 30 minutes when his phone buzzed across the table.
Wardrobe: Need you back in ten.
He let out a whine as he gripped his blankie and shaved his face into his pillow, angrily suckling as he weighed the pros and cons of just ignoring the text and pretending he fell asleep.
Knowing someone would probably be sent to find him anyways he gives an aggravated sigh and gets up, changing back into his scratchy jeans, and waiting till the last possible moment to put his pacifier away.
"I'll take a break tonight." The words came out slightly slurred from still fighting off the edges of his headspace.
Turning on his heels he steps outside his trailer, being re-welcomed by the wind wiping through his hair once more and the cold nip of the evening chill. More than likely they just needed to check something with one the outfits for the scenes with Stratt, it should be quick and he could come back.
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It had not been quick at all.
They had ended up keeping him for two more hours, already stretching his already tired brain to exhaustion. He didn't have the energy to do much of anything else when he got back to his trailer other than kick his jeans off, and slip his pacifier between his lips, and pass out.
The following morning, the first thing Ryan saw when he opened his eyes was the clock next to his bed reading 5:56 am. The pacifier that was still kept snug in his mouth bob with content. Usually he gets on set around 7:30 ish, so he could slowly pull himself out of his headspace this morning.
With a content sigh he snuggles into the warm sheets…. Before being rudely interrupted by the feeling of his phone buzzing. Not wanting to look but knowing it was probably important he reaches over and turns on the screen, squinting at the brightness for a second.
Call time moved up. They're ready for you at 6:30.
Ryan stared at the screen. You're kidding. He had twenty minutes. He sighed.
"Of course." he mumbled past his pacifier.
He climbed out of bed, struggling to shimmy himself into some more adult clothes, knowing it was luckily just a rehearsal today. With an aggravated huff at being forced to big so soon, he shoves his pacifier under his pillow and manages to shimmy his shoes on and get out the door in time.
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That night he got back to his trailer at a much later time too exhausted to do much else then shimmy his jeans off and crash on his bed, this time not even grabbing his pacifier under his pillow before he was away in his dreams.
The next day ended similarly.
The day after he managed to get back at a reasonable time, but someone had ended up knocking on his door, wanting to go over and fix some things making a dent in his time to be small.
He tried to get a moment the next day but something else had come up which aggravated Ryan to no end.
Stuff. Just. Kept. Coming. Up!
The next several days blurred together, all focused on getting Project Hail Mary started and production off the ground.
He thought when he had to film the parts with Eva Stratt and Grace, and the lab with Carl, and actual other human co-workers, he'd actually get a break. But it felt as if there was even less time than before, he had to go over more lines and make sure they had the facial and body expressions just right, going over the same scenes, over, and over, and over.
And his co-workers were great, don't get him wrong, but for some reason it felt like he got even less time to himself than he normally would on a movie set, he didn't know how, but it did.
Script revisions, Wire rehearsals, Interviews, Camera tests, Meetings ,Late dinners, Early call times. He kept promising himself he’d get some time to regress, be able to properly have a day off and just let his brain turn to goop.
Tomorrow after rehearsal, Tomorrow after interviews, Tomorrow after the stunt meeting, Tomorrow after they finished blocking the zero-gravity scenes, Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow.
He doesn't think he's ever been this busy on a set before, he didn't know there'd be this much to project hail mary.
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He hasn't regressed properly in about 3 months and he could tell it was taking a toll on his mental health. He truly did try to act like he always did, but …. Sometimes he's been a bit more jumpy, or he'd get snappy at the end of the day, he's started going silent sometimes on set, and they'd have to give him a minute to regain his composure.
But it's luckily far and few between, only having happened a few times, easily being brushed off as not getting enough sleep, or not eating yet, or even just an off day. But the signs were becoming harder to ignore. His favorite oversized hoodie felt safer than any of his regular clothes. The coffee he'd usually reached for every morning suddenly tasted too bitter. He'd bitten his nails so much the crew has started letting him chew gum on set just to avoid causing himself any harm.
He was a bit embarrassed that his oral fixation had become that bad, but he'd never let anyone know that's what his issue was with the nail biting. He caught himself lingering over a display of plush animals at the store before quietly walking away.
Little things.
Manageable things. Nothing serious. He'd handled far worse before. Or at least, that's what he kept telling himself.
As he climbed into bed that night, utterly exhausted, he glanced at the drawer he had slipped his pacifier into a couple weeks ago
"...Tomorrow."
For the first time in years, Ryan ignored what his mind had been trying to tell him. It was only one more night after all, what harm could it do.