𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐘 | callum turner

015, why now?

My hand lifts and cups over the hand of his that sits on my cheek. It's out of script but it just feels right, for our characters, for me, for us.

My lips are parted and my eyes fall down to his lips which I watch as he wets with his tongue — I can tell when I flicker up to his eyes again, he's asking me if I'm ok. Because we can talk without words, without contortions of our facial expressions. We can talk because he knows me better than I think I know myself

His lips brush over mine, a movement that takes seconds but feels like a lifetime.

I can't help but lean in. His hands that hold me push me closer to him as I slide my arms around his neck. Pulling him into the position as I sit on the countertop.

It feels destined, I know it sounds bleuh!

but it feels like every moment that has ever happened to me has been leading to this moment. Regardless of whether there are twenty people watching us kiss, all muttering about lighting and angles. It all fades away as I kiss him, he makes me feel like I'm the only person in the room, in the world, in this whole fucking universe Callum making me feel like I'm the only one worth looking at.

I pull him as close as humanly possible, hands moving to grip that same linen shirt from earlier today. He does the same, I feel our lower stomachs collide as I squeeze my eyes shut.

" and cut." is not what brings me back into the real world, it's the disconnect between me and Callum.

His eyes closed when he pulls apart and turns away from me, I watch as the back of his hand moves to his lips. it's an immediate watering of my eyes and sudden drop of my heart at his actions as I shake my head and push myself off of the counter.

Looking for the nearest exit from the set. Meeting the eyes of everyone who must see a deer in the headlights.

" I just need-" I call out to nobody in particular as I exit the set, my feet rapid as the tears slip down my cheeks and I choke on the air that suddenly feels too thick to slip seamlessly through my lungs.

I'm in the garden, well what is normally a garden but is instead filled with equipment and catering which is slowly getting packed up as the night sets on Sicily.

I can hear him, his calls after me. The thumping of his hurried footsteps which only make the tears more intense as I squeeze my eyes shut.

And soon his arms are around me, holding me as I let soft cries out on his chest. He whispers my name and tries to soothe me.

I try to pull away, but he takes ahold me. Cradling my cheeks between his palms as I look at him and this picture of concern that paints his face.

" hey hey," He shushes " you're ok."

" is it drew?" he asks and I scoff, it's loud and obnoxious as I shake my head. My hurt flickering into anger.

My head hurts, not nearly as much as my heart though. Pushing away as I create a sufficient amount of distance between the two of us

" no it's not fucking Drew, none of this is about Drew!"

He looks confused as he tries to step closer and I take one back.

" I know Callum!" I tell him, raised voice.

He furrows his brows " what do you mean? What do you know exactly?" he asks.

I exhale, " I know why you stopped talking to me, I know why you shut me out!" It feels like a weight lifted from me but replaced by a heavier one which comes in the form of worry he looks at me with.