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♠ ♥ ♦ ♠
Taylor eyed Joe as he walked down the stairs in his evening suit. Her gaze met his and she immediately turned back to her laptop and pretended to be occupied. Since their breakup last week, their conversations were as stale and thin as the air between them. Between wrapping a shoot and getting ready for the Oscars, there hadn't been any time for Joe to find a place and move out yet. Now they slept in separate rooms, on separate beds, making it quite hard for them not to see each other every morning.
Taylor watched Joe again as he checked his appearance in the mirror one last time and grabbed his bag.
"H-Have a good night!" She called out hesitantly.
Joe momentarily froze, shocked at the fact that she spoke to him. "Uh, you too!" He replied. Was there any reasonable response to your ex wishing you a good night at the Oscars?
As soon as he left, Taylor immediately turned off her laptop and went to the kitchen. Pulling out the ingredients, she started to prepare a simple curry rice for dinner. She had been craving it for days, but was hesitant to make it in front of Joe— she would feel obligated to share his favourite dish with him that way.
When the red carpet started, Taylor took her bowl of curry and watched it live on the TV, waiting for Joe to pop up on the screen. When she saw him, she ignored the urge to send a photo of it to him. God, he looked good. She refused to let herself get a full look at him earlier, but now she couldn't stop smiling. That's her man.
"Hi Mere," she gently said to the cat. "That's Joe."
When the time for Best Actor came, Taylor held her breath as she watched Joe's mannerisms on the screen.
"Here are the nominees for Best Actor in a Leading Role. Will Smith for King Richard, Joe Alwyn for The Last Letter from your Lover, Benedict Cumberbatch for The Power of the Dog, Andrew Garfield for Tick, Tick... Boom!, and Denzel Washington for The Tragedy of Macbeth.
"And the Oscar goes to... Will Smith for King Richard!"
Taylor gasped melodramatically before her hands automatically started clapping. That was what years of attending award shows got you. It was like an unconscious standard for her.
She watched as Joe's eyes immediately looked gloomy, but he too started clapping nevertheless. Being an actor, emotions could be easily shrouded, especially on national television. And Taylor was the only one who could see through his façade.
:::
She continued to watch the show while her hands fumbled her phone. Was it weird to send a text to him asking if he was alright? She felt that stale, thin air rush over her, almost like an invisible smoke drowning her. What happened to us?
As she was washing up the kitchen equipment from her dinner and packing up leftovers, she heard the front door unlock— Joe was home.
He walked into the kitchen where Taylor was and grabbed a glass of water. Taylor bit her tongue and resisted the urge to ask him about his night.
