~~~~~
"You gon' have to do more than just--" Thud thud.
"You gon' have to do less when you--" Thud thud.
"Lil mama, you know I...--" Thud thud thud.
The chain of the punching bag creaks under the pressure of my throws, drowning out half of the lyrics of the song blasting through my speakers. Part of me is happy with the fact that through filming and training, I've gotten stronger, but the other half of me is still stuck back home, a small girl who had no idea that she would ever have this strength or have the ability to play such a large role in such a large franchise.
But Teresa's supposed to be strong, and since I have had to play her for the past months, I am too.
I knowingly missed my flight back home. Well, then, I think to myself, you didn't really miss it - you skipped it. A mirthless laugh falls from my lips as I bounce on the balls of my feet, shifting position in front of the punching bag.
You're too stressed to make good jokes right now, y/n. Try after the premiere.
I lean forward, throwing my body into a strong punch to the side of the bag. The chain creaks again, loudly, but there is also the unmistakable sound of the door opening, then clicking shut as someone steps inside. I glance at the mirrored wall in front of me, and watch as Thomas enters silently, crossing his arms as he shuts the door.
I let myself throw a few more punches before pausing, wiping the sweat from my hairline. "Why aren't you on a plane right now?" I ask, not turning, rather watching him through the mirror.
"There was still one person left unaccounted for." He responds, leaning against the wall next to the door and eyeing me.
"Hm." I murmur, looking back to the punching bag. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Thomas stand up straight, walking over to me. He takes a few long strides, stepping behind the bag. He eyes me down, and I raise an eyebrow. "Don't think I won't hit it."
He simply cocks an eyebrow in response, and I take it as a cue to drive my fist firmly into the centre of the bag. His eyes widen as the air knocks out of him, and I hear a gasped 'fuck' as he pulls back, rubbing at his ribs. "I thought you were joking," he says, catching his breath.
"I can't seem to make a good joke right now," I murmur, mainly to myself as I look down, playing with the wrappings around my hands.
He looks over to me, slipping in between me and the punching bag. "Y/n," he murmurs softly. I keep my eyes lowered, until he slips a hand underneath my chin, tilting my face so that he could actually look at me. "I know you, alright? I know that you're stressed. What's going on?"
I glance up at him, before shaking my head. "Nothing, Thomas. I'm fine."
"Y/n."
I sigh, pulling back from him and rubbing one covered hand over my eyes. "Fine. People are expecting a basic, well-known actress to play Teresa. Some cookie-cutter chick, not me. I'm the last girl someone would expect to play her and I'm scared, Thomas, what if the reviews about me mess the movie's ratings up? This is gonna be a huge movie, people are already upset with my casting, and I really don't wanna flop this movie, Tom, damn it --"
He sighs, taking my arms and wrapping them around him as I continue. "--and it sounds like I'm complaining, but I really can't mess this role up, I can't do it, God," I murmur against his chest. Until I finish my rant, he doesn't stop holding me tightly, running his hand over my hair. We stand there for a few more moments, before I pull back, rubbing my face again. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to throw it all on you."
He shakes his head. "It's fine. Come here," he murmurs, pulling my hands so that I faced him again. He holds our joined hands in between us. "You're perfect for Teresa, alright? You're going to do fine at the premiere, at the press conferences, and at the interviews. People love you."
"Did you see Twitter when my casting was announced?"
He sighs. "Yeah, I did. I saw the confused comments. But I also saw fans adoring you."
"Barely any."
"That's a lie and you know it," he huffs. "They love you, because you were perfect for the role. You're strong, talented, beautiful, independent - everything Teresa is, and more, okay? Don't stress so much on this, people adore you."
I look up at him, my lips pressed firmly together. Where I was a ball of stress, he was welcoming and comforting, and I loved that about him. I let out the breath I was holding, resting my forehead lightly against our joined heads. "Okay."
We're silent for a moment, before he shifts. "You calmer now?"
I nod, pulling back again. "Yeah, fine." I pause for a moment, before leaning in, tucking my lips against his cheek. I pull away, looking at his stunned reaction before turning away, walking over to the speakers and shutting the music off, grabbing the towel as I stand.
I don't even get to stand all the way up before his hands are on my hips, spinning me around and pressing me against the wall. He tilts his head slightly, a small smile on his face. "You sure you're alright?" He asks, his nose nudging against my already-red cheeks.
Ease up, I think to myself. Don't stress right now.
"Hmm," I murmur, letting my head rest against the wall so that I could see him better. "You know what, Tom? Not feeling so great anymore, now that I think about it."
I see a flash of a grin before he presses his lips firmly against mine.
**
*day of premiere*
"No, not this color. Sorry, Anita," I say sheepishly to the makeup artist that was attending to me. "But isn't this a bit dark for my taste?" I glance at the tube of lipstick again, a dark red color. Anita said that it would go well with the white dress I wore, since there were accents of this color in it, but I wasn't so sure.
She shakes her head. "You're not backing out now, y/n," she says, hands on her hips. "All out, remember?"
"Yeah, but what if all out is too much?"
"It's called all out for a reason, love," a familiar voice calls out as he enters the dressing room. "And it looks fine, not overboard."
I turn in my chair, glancing at Thomas. "It's so red, though."
He takes the tube from my fingers, glancing at the bottom of it. "Its called 'Bold Red', so I mean..." He trails off, shrugging. "I think it looks great, but it's up to you, babe."
I notice that Anita had slipped out as Thomas had entered - something she'd said once about him seeming threatening echoes through my mind, almost making me laugh - and I get up, walking to stand in front of him. "Really?"
"Really what?" He asks, a hand drifting to rest on my hip.
"It looks okay?"
"Looks ho-- great." He nods.
I smile, tilting my head slightly, before leaning in, pressing my lips against his jaw. The hand that was resting on my waist tightens, as he fumbles to put the lipstick tube in his other hand away. I pull back, watching him lean over my shoulder, brushing his fingers over the mark with the tips of his fingers. "Mm, yeah," he murmurs, mainly to himself. "Looks great."
His eyes catch mine through the mirror, and he suppresses a frown. "What is it?" I ask.
He turns back over to face me, his hands cupping my face gently. His thumbs trace upwards, rubbing in between my eyebrows. "I can still see you freaking out," He says quietly. "It's written all over your face."
I close my eyes, leaning into his touch. "I'm fine."
When I open my eyes again, his eyebrows are quirked. "You sure?"
"Maybe not," I say with a flippant shrug. "Maybe I am in fact totally freaking out internally. Maybe I am--"
His lips are on mine before I can finish.
His hands remain on my face as mine rest against the sides of his neck, before sliding down onto the lapels of his blazer to pull him closer. He complies, moving his hands to my waist and pulling me flush against him. We stay like that for a few moments, before he pulls back. "I'm gonna ruin your dress if I stay like that."
"I wanna say that I don't care, but Anita's actually going to kill me." I pout.
"You're gonna do fine tonight, okay? You look great." He turns to the table behind us, pulling a tissue out of the tissue box and rubbing his lips with it. He pulls the tissue away, and the lipstick has smeared over the side of his cheek. "I'm gonna wash my face," he murmurs, glancing at me sheepishly before heading towards the door.
I grab his wrist before he reaches the doorknob, and tug him back, pressing a quick kiss to his parted lips. "Thank you," I murmur, and he smiles, kissing me again. I almost laugh as he pulls away, lipstick making him look like a retired clown.
"Always," he says with a small cheesy grin.
~~~~~