Off Script | Pedro Pascal

The Space Between

When she finally pulled out her phone, she saw she had three text messages she hadn't answered. 

One from Theo: "Dinner tomorrow?"

One from James: "We're doing pasta night. You better bring wine."

And one from Pedro: "Left you something by the sewing station. Thought it might help."

That one, she stared at for a long time.

Back at the trailer, she found it: a small bottle of eucalyptus oil. 

Joanna stood there in the wardrobe trailer with the small bottle in her hand.

It was a dumb thing to feel shaken by. It wasn't a gift. It wasn't a declaration. It was just a gesture. A useful, forgettable kindness.

Except Pedro hadn't forgotten.

She had said it once. Weeks ago. Half a joke- "I get tension headaches so bad I should start drinking eucalyptus." He had laughed, told her she needed to breathe more. That was it. The moment had passed. 

But now the oil was in her palm. Unlabeled. Tucked beside her sewing machine, like it had been left on accident.

And it made something flicker in her chest-tender and unwelcome. 

She put it in her bag and didn't mention it.

Didn't text him back, either.

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Back at the apartment, the living room was scattered with empty pasta bowls, and the sound of James and Morgan arguing over who had control of the speaker.

"It's my night," Morgan said, standing in the middle of the room wearing glitter-streaked overalls and one sock. You promised I could DJ. You promised."

"And you promised you'd stop playing Bjork remixes during dinner," James replied from the couch. "You broke the social contract first."

Joanna dropped her bag by the door and collapsed onto the floor between them, cigarette already tucked between her lips.

"Children, please," she muttered. "Mommy's had a long day."

Nico emerged from the hallway, wearing silk pajama pants and a mesh crop top. "Oh, thank God. Finally, someone with taste."

Genevieve trailed behind him in sweatpants and a hoodie that read "PAIN IS TEMPORARY, FILM IS FOREVER."

"Do we need wine for this intervention?" she asked, already heading to the kitchen.

Joanna exhaled smoke toward the ceiling. "What intervention?"

"The one where we lovingly bully you into admitting you're emotionally constipated," Nico said, settling onto the couch and crossing his legs with flair.

"I'm not emotionally constipated."

Morgan raised a hand. "You haven't posted an unhinged Instagram caption in three days. That's basically a call for help."

Joanna groaned and rolled onto her side. "I hate all of you."

"You love us," James said, handing her a lukewarm bowl of noodles. "You just hate feelings."

Joanna picked at the food without appetite. Her head still throbbed in that way that wasn't just about stress. It was about everything else- the things she wasn't letting herself want.

"Okay," Nico said, dropping his voice dramatically, "be honest. Are you more into Golden Retriever British Theo, or brooding Silver Fox Pedro, who leaves you aromatherapy like it's a love language?"

Joanna blinked. "How did you know about that?"

"I know everything."

Genevieve reappeared with two bottles of cheap red wine. "He found the bottle in your bag while stealing your charger."

Nico gasped in faux offense. "You swore you wouldn't snitch on me! Bitch."

"I'm not mad," Joanna said. "Just... surprised."

James gave her a long look over the rim of his glass. "You keep saying things like that. But your face says you don't know  what the hell you're doing."

"I don't."

"Okay. Now we're getting somewhere."

Joanna rubbed her thumb over her jaw, suddenly tired. "I like Theo," she said softly. "I really do. He's good. He's consistent. He makes things easy."

"But Pedro makes things complicated,"  Morgan offered, flopping upside-down on the couch, "and hot."

"He barely talks to me."

Nico tilted his head. "Exactly."

Joanna stared at the ceiling. "I think he's punishing me for being into someone else."

Genevieve sat down beside her and leaned back on her elbows. "Or maybe he's trying not to be someone who gets jealous."

"Either way, it sucks."

It does," Nico agreed. "But it's also very hot. Like, enemies-to-lovers slow burn. 10/10."

Joanna closed her eyes. "I'm not in an enemies-to-lovers situation."

"Yet."

They let her be quiet for a while after that. The kind of silence only shared spaces can hold, punctuated by the clicking of wine glasses and the rise and fall of the playlist nobody could agree on. 

And Joanna, stretched out on the rug with her knees bent and her mind a mess, kept thinking about the tiny bottle of oil. How quiet the gesture had been. How gentle. How specific.

And the fact that it came from someone who had barely looked at her in three days made her feel like the space between them wasn't distance, exactly.

It was restraint. 

And that might've been worse.

A/N: hello my lovelies, how are y'all liking the story? I for one think it's going pretty well but if you guys have any suggestions please comment! see ya in the next update :)