You Of All People | A Nigerian Gay MM Love Story

CHAPTER EIGHT

The hospital scene was where it got deep.

Folarin's character was supposed to have suffered a bad fall trying to do his physical therapy on his own after he and his brother, Chuka's character, had had a fight that led to the latter moving out. The makeup artist had just done Folarin's bruises and was heading out the door when Chuka came in to prepare for the scene. The sight of Folarin stopped him in his tracks for a few seconds. The girl was really an artist because Folarin looked terrible. His head was bandaged, his face 'badly bruised', and his eyes had the sunken look of someone who had been sleeping far longer than any healthy person should. Chuka walked to the chair by the bed, eyes fixed on Folarin, an odd look on his face.

Folarin laughed. "She try abi?" His eyes had followed Chuka from the door and watched him as he sat.

"Yeah." Chuka said, in a low voice. "Yeah, she finish work."

Folarin frowned. "Guy, wetin happen? What's wrong?"

Chuka lowered his head and let out a deep sigh. "Nothing."

Folarin sat up. "Chuka."

Silence. Chuka still had his head bowed.

"Bro. What the fuck? What's wrong with you?", Folarin pressed.

Silence.

"Chuka!"

Chuka lifted his head but looked sideways. Then just like his character was supposed to in the scene they were about to shoot, he looked at Folarin's hand and took it. When Chuka finally lifted his eyes to look at him, Folarin saw them filled with emotion, tears already building, threatening to fall down his face. "Guy wetin..."

"Fo'.", Chuka interrupted, then paused. "Never end up here." Chuka tried to blink back the tears in his eyes as he spoke, but it did nothing to erase the raw emotion in them. And despite Chuka's best efforts, Folarin still heard the heart-breaking crack in his voice as he added an earnest, "Please."

Now, one thing that every living soul affiliated with Nollywood knew for an absolute fact was that, as good an actor as he was, Chukwukadibia Amadi could not cry on demand to save his own life. Literally. You could point a loaded gun at his head and threaten to squeeze the trigger if he didn't manufacture his own tears for emotional scenes and still, his eyes would remain drier than dust. 

He always needed help. If it wasn't eye drops, it was the vaporub-on-the-cheek trick. So, Folarin's realization that this was no joke came swiftly. As he watched his best friend have a mini meltdown, he mentally kicked himself for not anticipating what a scene like this might do to Chuka, who had lost several loved ones in hospitals.

Folarin was about to speak when, the Director came back in the room with the rest of the skeleton crew they were using for that scene. The hospital had placed a strict restriction on the number of set members they would be allowing in the hospital for filming. "Are we ready?", the Director asked and answered his own question when he looked at both men. "Makeup is done. And Chuka, you've used your eye drop. Good. Good. So, we can start." He looked at the lighting technician. "Light?"

"Ready, Sir."

"Camera?"

The cinematographer gave him the 'okay' sign.

"Alright." He turned to Chuka and Folarin. "Action."

The next morning, Folarin surprised himself by actually waking up when his 6a.m alarm rang the first time. God, he grumbled, what kind of sick individuals get up at this hour on a weekend?