Off script

after hours

I kinda hate this but lmk what y'all think 

By the time filming wrapped and everyone went home, the day's chaos had blurred into one long stretch of dialogue, lights, and costume changes. But a few moments stayed clear — the bench, the hallway, the break room.

Sadie curled up on her couch, hoodie pulled over her head, a cooling mug of tea balanced on the armrest. The apartment was quiet, the kind of stillness that came only after twelve hours of chatter and direction and laughter echoing off concrete walls. She let herself sink into it for a moment — until her phone buzzed.

Caleb

you survived the day?

She smiled, tugging the sleeves of her hoodie over her hands as she typed back.

Sadie

barely. gaten ate all the snacks again.

Caleb

tragic. you deserve hazard pay.

Sadie

what about you?

Caleb

fine. just recovering from my stunt accident.

Sadie

stunt accident???

Caleb

yeah.
you know.
hallway. dropped water bottle.
hand collision.
very dangerous.

The laugh that slipped out surprised her. It wasn't sharp or loud, just soft — the kind that carried more warmth than she expected this late at night.

Sadie

oh right. forgot to file the incident report.

Caleb

please do. I expect full compensation.

The conversation drifted on, weaving between inside jokes, little complaints about sore feet and bad lighting, and flashes of honesty about how strange the long days could feel. Somewhere in the flow, it stopped being about the set and started feeling like something else entirely — like sharing the quiet of the evening with someone who understood it in the same way.

It wasn't until her eyes blurred over the screen that she noticed the time: 12:17 a.m. She yawned, leaning her head against the couch. Another buzz lit the phone.

Caleb

wait.
is it raining where you are?

Sadie looked toward the window. The glass blurred with steady drops, streetlight halos glowing through them. She pulled the blanket closer.

Sadie

yeah. steady.

Caleb

same here. kinda strange, thinking we're both hearing the same rain.

She read it twice before answering.

Sadie

yeah. I like that.

A pause. Then his final message came through.

Caleb

goodnight, Sadie.

Her chest felt lighter as she typed back:

Sadie

night, Caleb.

She set the phone down, but sleep didn't come right away. Instead, she lay listening to the rain, letting it fill the quiet corners of her apartment. Somehow, it felt less like a sound outside her window and more like something shared — the same rhythm falling in two different places at once.

The next morning, the rain had thinned to a damp mist that clung to the studio lot. Sadie pulled her hood up against the drizzle, clutching a coffee as she crossed the gravel path toward the soundstage. The air smelled faintly metallic, like wet concrete and wires.

Inside, crew members moved briskly, adjusting lights, dragging cables, and checking props. The cast trickled in, one by one, each at their own pace — some humming, some still half-asleep, others already buzzing with energy. Sadie kept her steps steady, blending into the flow.

Near the entrance, Caleb leaned against the doorway, his script folded in his hand. He glanced up when she walked in, expression soft, almost expectant. For a moment, neither of them said anything. The quiet recognition was enough.

"Still raining," he said lightly, voice low enough not to carry.

Sadie returned the look with a faint smile, brushing back her damp hood. "Guess it followed us in."

It wasn't much — just a simple exchange — but it threaded last night into today, like the rain itself had carried something over from one place to the other.

She walked past him into the set, the hum of the room growing louder. But in the back of her mind, the quiet stayed, like a secret they both understood.