Two and a half weeks left.
That was it. Just two and a half weeks, and then this would all be over.
Or at least, that's what I was telling myself. Just because I only had two and a half weeks left on set didn't mean that Mads and I would bounce right back to normal.
That she would bounce right back to normal. Which wasn't to say that she hadn't been "normal" these last couple weeks. She'd been as close to "normal" as possible—she still took care of everything diligently, especially things where Lila was concerned. She was present for our daughter in every sense of the word, doing what needed to be done, except when I made her take a break. She still cooked dinner most nights, and she still got a kick out of Lila eating her mushy peas and pureed carrots or apples or sweet potatoes or whatever. So far, Lila wasn't a fussy eater, and Mads also took great pleasure in saying that she probably got that from her.
But I'd still roll over in the middle of the night to find her side of the bed empty. I was noticing the dark circles beneath her eyes more and more. And when I walked into the house to find her dozing on the couch, Lila either in her arms, or looking up at me from her playpen, I didn't wake her. Just finished off whatever she was cooking and kept Lila with me until it was time to wake Mads for dinner.
Things weren't "normal" between us either. While we talked, we never really talked. And when she kissed me, she never really kissed me. And when she smiled, she never really smiled.
It felt like I didn't either.
I wish I could say it was nice to have the distraction of work. Nice to get away from the way I noticed how wrong everything felt when I was home. But it wasn't.
The closer we came to the end of this film, the more eager I was for it to already be over.
My phone buzzed as I sat down in my chair just on the perimeter of the set, already chugging a bottle of water.
Going well, Mads had texted back. Just about to put Lila down for a nap, then gonna try to sleep a bit myself.
I'd been checking in on her every day. Texting her here and there just to make sure everything was alright at home. Each time, she'd said yes. Sometimes she and Lila were out—either at the grocery store, or the doctor's office, or out for a walk—but most of the time they were at the house. No matter where they were, it was a comfort to hear from her. To know that they were okay.
Good. You need it, I typed back. Give Lila a kiss for me. xx
"Hey, uh, Harry?"
I looked up to find Vanessa walking towards me, what looked like her script rolled up in one hand.
"Hey," I said, setting my phone aside.
"Hey," she replied with a smile.
An awkward smile.
We were filming our kissing scene after lunch. The movie didn't have a big romantic arc or anything, but our characters certainly shared some chemistry throughout the story, all leading up to this kiss. But since this was more of an ensemble cast and an action-packed story, our characters' romance wasn't the focus—not nearly. So, I'd been telling myself I shouldn't be nervous.
But with Vanessa standing in front of me, looking all kinds of nervous herself, I couldn't help that I was.
"I, uh... Are you busy?" she asked, her eyes not quite meeting mine, instead going from my phone, to my hands, to my eyes, then back to my phone.
"Oh, uh—no. No, I was just, texting my wife."
"Oh." Vanessa nodded, somehow looking even more flustered. "I hope everything's okay."
"Yeah, everything's good," I said quickly, painfully aware of how not good things were. But the answer rolled off my tongue, just like it had when anyone had asked about Mads these last couple of months.
It was something I'd thought about—in a sad way—but I had to wonder if anyone actually wanted to hear the truth. Everyone asked how Mads was, how the baby was, how things were...
But would any of them actually care if I told them how hard things had been? How would they react if I told them that everything felt strained and wrong between us for months—since I started working on this stupid film. What would they say if I told them that Mads kept herself at a safe distance from me—that we hadn't had sex in well over a month? How would I feel to look at them and know that they were judging us?
It was easier—necessary—to lie. To say that everything was fine. To keep the picture of us perfect in their minds.
Whether it was easier for them or for me was up for debate.
"That's good," Vanessa said, awkward still. She rolled her script up a little bit more and kept her eyes downcast. "Listen, do you have some time right now?"
She finally looked into my eyes.
Only to look away just as fast.
"We, uh... we all do, don't we?" I asked with a smirk.
Chris had only just called for a lunch break, and it typically lasted about an hour.
"Yeah, I just—I was wondering if you might want to run the scene with me before we shoot it later. It's just, I'm a little nervous, and I've never done this kind of scene before, let alone one with you, in front of Chris, and I think it would just—it would help to feel a little more comfortable with the whole thing—with you—before we have to film in front of everyone."
It was one long string of word vomit, and it served to make me laugh.
"Sure," I said, watching her smile widen and cheeks redden.
"Really? You don't mind? Did you want to eat first? Cause I can wait."
"No, now is fine." I stood up and straightened my trousers. "Where did you want to go?"
"We could go to my dressing room. Or yours. I don't have a preference. Just somewhere quiet."
And private, was what she didn't say.
"Let's go to yours then," I said, holding out a hand so that she might lead the way.
Her shoulders rose up a little bit around her ears, but she smiled, said okay, and led me towards her dressing room.
We were both still in costume, which for me, today, meant combat-type boots, stiff black trousers, and a gray t-shirt with a heavy black jacket over it. I had taken the jacket off and left it hanging on the back of my chair though. Vanessa was still wearing hers, her outfit somewhat similar, though her trousers looked much more comfortable—more like leggings than trousers, actually.
"I'm sorry for this," she said, turning halfway over her shoulder, still not quite meeting my eye.
"No, you—"
"I just haven't done work like this yet, and while I trust you, I can't help but feel a little nervous."
"That's totally normal."
"Yeah. That's what everyone keeps saying."
"Cause it's true. Believe me, every actor goes through this."
I remembered my first kissing scene. It was my last kissing scene, too. The second film I'd done was a drama, and my character fell in love with a girl he hated initially, which meant working with a lot of fun, emotional stuff. But I was nervous as hell. Mads had been incredibly reassuring about it, so it wasn't like I felt weird in that way. I just felt weird about it in the sense that my co-star, an actress named Amy Jansen, wasn't someone I, Harry Styles, wanted to kiss.
Not that there was anything "wrong" with her, or that I wouldn't have wanted to kiss her under different circumstances, but because I had to act like I wanted to kiss her—so desperately, with a lot of passion--I didn't think I'd be able to make it believable.
Amy and I talked plenty, though, and we'd gotten really comfortable with each other from the start, so when the time came, I did what I had to do—I acted.
And somehow, it paid off.
Things were slightly different with Vanessa, but I knew her struggle. The problem was, we hadn't really grown as close as Amy and I had. But that was because we hadn't really needed to. Our characters' relationship never grew as deep as the relationship portrayed in my last film. By the end of this movie, our characters would only just be scratching the surface of their potential as a couple.
Vanessa and I didn't really talk much out of scene, which was partly my fault for being so distracted by what had been going on at home for the last few months. But in any case, the distance between us had been working for our characters—as if we'd both unconsciously decided not to get too close to each other out of scene, so that our characters would portray that same distance more believably.
Because the thing was, they never really got comfortable with each other either. They were too busy dealing with all the obstacles thrown their way, and their attraction to each other was nothing but a distraction, so they shoved aside their growing feelings and didn't talk to each other unless absolutely necessary. Their kiss towards the end of the film was one that came with the relief of success.
Which would be difficult to get across if we were both apprehensive over it.
"Okay," Vanessa said over a sigh as we walked into her dressing room.
It looked just like mine, only everything was opposite—a mirror image. The couch, the mirror, the placement of the bathroom... It was just as sparsely decorated, though there were personal touches scattered throughout. A soft, fuzzy throw blanket on the back of the couch, a small vase of flowers on the coffee table, makeup strewn across the counter in front of the mirror, and clothes tossed over every chair available.
"Sorry it's a little messy," she said, already picking up items of clothing and gathering them all in her arms.
"No, it's fine," I said, feeling awkward as I stood there, closing the door behind me.
Vanessa loosed a breath after tossing everything onto one chair. Hands on her hips, she turned to face me, but didn't meet my eye. A smile touched her lips. "You can sit."
Wondering why I was still standing by the door, I felt myself blush. "Right."
Neither of us said anything as I moved to the couch, as she turned around again and lifted her script from the makeup counter.
"I didn't bring mine," I said, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees as she flipped through her script. "Mind sharing?"
"That's the least I can do." She smiled as she moved to the other end of the couch, as she slid between the coffee table and the cushions to sit close to me. She placed the open script on the coffee table in front of us.
"It's probably bad that neither of us have this memorized," I murmured, laughter bubbling up my throat—as if the butterflies in my stomach were trying to escape.
Vanessa pressed the binding of the script so that it would stay flat. "Yeah. It would be great if we could do that now, too."
"Agreed," I said, getting a whiff of her shampoo as she tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder and sat back.
"Okay," she said, like an announcement. Finally, she looked at me. Her brown eyes were gleaming. "Ready?"
I scooted forward, my eyes moving to the script. "Let's do it."
At first, it was still awkward. But it didn't take long to fall into character. It was easy enough to do when already feeling nervous. Jason was a kind of hyperactive guy—in learning, and in the way he lived his life. So, when it came to romance, all of that hyperactivity immediately turned into nervous energy.
And Caitlin—Vanessa's character—made him very, very nervous.
So, his emotions were not a far cry from how I was feeling about this scene. Without really discussing it, we ran it again and again without the kiss, until both of us got the lines down. And after the fourth time running through the words, Vanessa looked at me.
Really looked at me.
"Think you got it?"
"Yeah. You?"
"Think so," she said, glancing at the script again. Before closing it. "Wanna try without it this time?"
I sat back, my nerves, which had almost entirely disappeared with the ease of running lines, returned to join Jason's. "Might as well, right?"
Vanessa released a shaky breath. "Right." She sat back, swiveled to face me, and loosed another breath as she looked into my eyes. Even her smile quivered. "Let's do it."
Seeing how nervous she was, knowing how nervous I felt, I gripped her hand for a moment, and started with the first line: "What now?"
Our characters were alone for the first time. It was over. We had just successfully avoided arrest and escaped the country, landing in a small, off-the-beaten-track town in Peru. She and Cillian's character were headed somewhere else though. They could never linger long in one place thanks to their criminal records.
"I mean, where will you go from here? Where do I go from here? What'll happen if—"
"You'll be fine," she said, almost rolling her eyes at me.
"Fine?" I exclaimed, really going for an extra bit of exasperation—desperation. Jason was dirty, sweaty, and felt like he'd just gone into the fiery pits of Hell and made it back in one piece, but was spent to the point of breaking. He was used to office spaces and friendly banter over coffee—not international heists and high-stakes face-offs with the FBI. And he would never admit it, but... He didn't entirely hate the experience. "I'm in Peru! I've never even been out of the country before all this! How am I supposed to get back? What if the feds are looking for me, what if they're—"
"They're not."
"You don't know that."
"Trust me. They're not looking for some random tech guy who carries around a miniature chess set in case he gets bored." She was smirking playfully, referring back to an earlier scene when she'd made fun of him for whipping out his chess set on a train. And Jason was already madly in love with her, but too dense to see that she was attracted to him, too.
Which made sense. He was the kind of guy who would rather stay single than put himself out there. The kind of guy who doubted himself when it came to anything other than technology, Chess, reading, and his dog, Marnie back home, where he lived with his mother.
This girl... This beautiful, smart, courageous woman...
She'd never look twice at him.
And he didn't know what to do with the fact that she was looking at him—really looking at him—now.
So, he ignored it completely.
"Where will you go?" At this point, I was supposed to flick my eyes over to where Cillian disappeared—into a restaurant to use the telephone. "Will you—will you be okay with him?"
Vanessa's eyes softened, and I could see the way Caitlin's affection for Jason—emotion she didn't know how to deal with either—swam in her brown eyes. "I'll be fine."
She didn't get defensive. Not like she normally would've. Not with Jason.
I was supposed to glance at Cillian again, jealousy and fear and a strange sort of awe for his character, warring for dominance in my eyes. "He's..."
Jason couldn't find the words to describe him—Cillian's character. An asshole? A genius? A world-class dick?
She glanced over her shoulder, too, smiling and scooting just a bit closer as she returned her attention to me. "He's not so bad."
That only made Jason's jealousy flare, but he bit his lip. Searched for words. "Listen, I—"
Looking at her, noticing the way she was looking at him—it couldn't be. There was no way. Still, it was disarming to think it. To look into her eyes and imagine he could see that same attraction he was feeling.
Her deep brown eyes, ringed by lashes so long and dark, Jason went weak at the knees when she blinked. But she wasn't blinking. She was waiting—her blonde hair loose and long around her shoulders, the fair column of her throat a stark contrast to the black clothes she was wearing.
Jason gulped when she did.
"Yeah?" she asked.
But he didn't know what to say. If goodbye was appropriate. He didn't want it to be the end, but she certainly wasn't inviting him along on her next adventure. Not that he wanted her to.
Did he want her to?
"Nothing," he said, ready to back away. Intending to say goodbye and let it go. Something like disappointment flashed in her eyes, but Jason wouldn't see it for what it was. "Best of luck."
Jason was supposed to walk away then, but I was Harry again when I stayed sitting on the couch—too aware of what was supposed to happen, but wouldn't make any sense to act out in this small space.
This private room.
I was Harry again. Too aware of what was meant to happen—what we'd avoided getting to when running the scene through before—and was likely going to happen now.
"Seriously?" Vanessa said, amused as she stopped Jason in his tracks, and walked up to him as he turned around to face her again. But there were nerves in Vanessa's eyes, and she took an audible breath before whispering that last line, "You're an idiot."
There was no pause. No time to think before she'd gripped my shirt in her fists to yank my lips to hers. I was as surprised as Jason would've been, but for another reason entirely. For someone who had been so nervous before this, she certainly seemed sure of herself now.
It made sense that I was caught off guard, though—Jason would be. So, I took my time settling into the kiss, which made me aware of the strangeness, the... sense of wrongness I felt in kissing her.
Her lips weren't Madelyn's. She didn't smell like Madelyn. Not that any of that mattered. We were only acting after all.
But she kissed me with fervor, and I...
I kissed her back.
Returning her passion, returning her eagerness, returning it all and then some.
And not entirely as Jason.
It had been so long—so long since I'd been kissed like this. Since I'd kissed like this. Months. And I disappeared inside it—inside this kiss. Slipped away into the relief of it, forgetting my nerves, my struggles, and everything that was weighing on me for too long as some part of me that had gone cold warmed up again.
Grew hot.
Feverish.
Hands on her hips, sliding closer. Her hands on my face, tongues now touching. It was a dance. A twist of circumstances and limbs that I didn't see coming, and didn't know how to stop. Because I didn't want it to stop.
That realization was like flipping a switch in my head. One that made me remember everything that had been wrong these last few months.
One that made me remember my wife.
I pulled away a little more forcefully than I might've otherwise, stunned by what I'd just done. All that I'd just felt. Not because of Vanessa, but because of me.
Vanessa looked just as stunned as I removed my hands from her waist. Stunned, but... she smiled.
"Whoa."
That wasn't Caitlin's line. That was all Vanessa.
I didn't know what to say. How to play it off. She knew that wasn't just acting. She'd been able to feel it in every touch.
I stood up. "I'm sorry."
"What—"
"That was too much."
"No, I—"
"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
"Harry, you didn't—"
"I don't know where that came from." I was pacing now, yanking my hands through my hair.
"Harry, stop."
I stopped.
Looked at her.
She was standing, smiling, hands up like she was trying to calm a frightened animal. "It's okay. It wasn't real."
I was breathing heavily, staring at her—looking at her ravaged lips wondering how the hell she thought that wasn't real. She had to be placating me. But I wasn't about to tell her any differently, either.
Vanessa's hands fell to her sides when she realized I wasn't about to fly off the handle, and her smile turned into a smirk. "Well, that certainly broke the ice."
I almost laughed, but the sound that came out was more pathetic than amused. I sat down on the couch again, and hung my head in my hands.
She was trying to make me feel better. I knew that. But it didn't.
Because no matter what she said to justify it, I felt like I'd just cheated on my wife.
But I couldn't say that without revealing to Vanessa that the kiss had meant more to me than it should've. Even though, somehow, it hadn't actually meant anything at all.
She'd done just what she should've—she went for it. Grabbed me by the collar and planted one on me, just like Caitlin was meant to. Jason was supposed to react with some enthusiasm—just not as much as I'd given him moments ago. Whether or not she realized that, noticed that, I appreciated that she was doing her best to reassure me now. It made it feel like we really were a team in this, which we hadn't quite managed to be before.
Still. It was quiet enough then that I was able to analyze my reaction again and wonder how the hell it had happened. Why the hell it had happened. What I was going to do about it—about this well of guilt that had opened up inside me, deepening so quickly, I could no longer see the bottom.
Because Mads didn't deserve this. No matter how frustrated I was, the distance between us was due to something beyond her control. Something that I'd practically inflicted on her, bringing her so far from home to have Lila, leaving her alone in that house day after day to take care of her, knowing she wouldn't be able to see her family...
Abruptly, I felt sick.
The couch dipped beside me, but Vanessa didn't touch me. "Harry?"
I looked into her eyes. Her brows were lowered over them, and I couldn't tell whether she was waiting for a response, or if she hadn't yet asked a question.
"I should go," I said, standing quickly. And I didn't really care that I might've sounded crazy, or that I'd just kissed her like I was in love with her and she'd done me the favor of acting like I hadn't, or that I'd have to kiss her again in less than an hour.
For the moment, I had to get out of there.
"Okay," she said from behind me. "I—I guess I'll see you out there."
I didn't answer. Just closed the door behind me and headed for my dressing room.
We hadn't had sex in so long. That was why. I thought I was alright with that, but maybe I wasn't.
Which still didn't excuse what I'd just done.
But more than that, we hadn't been connecting almost at all these days. Every so often, for a few minutes at a time, maybe... if we were lucky. But not like we used to. Not like before I started this stupid job.
I closed myself in my dressing room, feeling queasy still, and leaned against the door, breathing deeply.
It wasn't the end of the world. Vanessa had been nice enough to act like it was nothing. And it was. It wasn't like I was in love with her, or like I was attracted to her, or anything like that. It wasn't like it had meant anything. To her or to me. It was work. Practice. She'd asked me to run the scene with her, and I had. Period. There was nothing else to examine.
Except my reaction—the way it had been almost like some sort of instinctive need taking over. Need that had fallen to the wayside for a long time. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying not to remember. But my lips still felt the press of hers—so different from Madelyn's, but just as nice. My palms still felt the strength in her waist, soft and feminine. My cheeks still felt the touch of her hands, growing gentler by the moment...
I shook my head. Squeezed my eyes shut.
It had been like a reflex, kissing her back like that. Like stretching muscles I hadn't used in a while, but were aching to be flexed again.
It wasn't cheating. I had to kiss her. I was being paid to kiss her.
But not like that. Not in the privacy of her dressing room, cameras and crew completely absent. That wasn't what Mads had signed up for. That wasn't what she thought was going to happen.
Heat burned behind my eyes. What was I thinking? That was the problem. I wasn't thinking. If I had been, I never would've agreed to that. I never would've kissed her like that.
And I didn't know what to do with this guilt. I still had to get through the rest of the day. Still had to kiss Vanessa again, both of us knowing what had happened in her dressing room. Still had to look her in the eye and relive that kiss—the way I'd... liked it.
"Harry?" Knocks sounded on my door.
I sucked in a breath and stood up straight, eyes shifting across the floor.
"Yeah?"
It was Cindy, who worked catering. We usually had a chat while I ate lunch. "I didn't see you out there. Just wondering if you're okay."
I rubbed my eyes, did my best to school my expression, and opened the door going for my usual pleasant nonchalance. "I was just about to head over to you."
Cindy smiled her usual wide smile, her glasses low on her nose, her mousy brown hair in it's usual clip. "Oh good! I saved you some chicken."
She hooked her arm through mine and guided me over to catering, but her delicious food tasted bland today, and I was barely listening as she chattered about her sons, who she filled me in on each day.
I got through the rest of the day in a similar state—showing up, smiling, engaging as much as was possible, but not really there. Even filming the kiss, I couldn't really remember. Each time Chris called for another take, I grew a little more fearful, a little more agitated, afraid that everyone would be able to somehow see what had transpired between me and Vanessa not half an hour earlier. But each time we kissed, it was a little less like it was that first time. Each of the several times we kissed, it only became more like work, for which was I grateful.
But I had no idea what to do about that first kiss in her dressing room by the time I got home. No idea whether it was something I should tell Mads, or if it was something I should keep to myself. Vanessa had seemed to sense that I didn't want to talk to her once the scene was over. She didn't even say goodbye to me, though she usually made it a point to. Not that I was complaining.
So if it didn't mean anything to her, and it didn't mean anything to me, did Mads have to know? Because it really didn't mean anything, even though my body had acted like it did.
Why? Why did it do that? Why did I do that? The frustration with myself, the guilt over it had me feeling sick again when I closed the door to the house as quietly as I could. Because I didn't know how to face her. Didn't know how to look Mads in the eye and not tell her how much the distance between us was killing me--ruining us. I didn't know how to put that on her, right on top of everything else.
Lila was crying, but I just needed a few more moments. Just a few more seconds to collect my thoughts. To figure out what to do...
But Lila was wailing—the kind of cry that told me she'd been at it for a while—and...
And I didn't hear any sign of Mads comforting her.
I held my breath, not moving as I waited for her soft voice, her gentle coo. It never came. So, I carried the guilt with me through the hallway, feeling it make way for something else. Something that was rapidly making itself known as fear, sharp and bitter at the back of my throat.
She was nowhere to be found when I entered the kitchen.
Heart hammering, my eyes scanned the entire room, only to find food bubbling away on the stove and Lila screaming in her swing, but no sign of Mads.
Alarm flooding my chest like acid, I headed to the stove, startled by the forceful way the pots were boiling, when something crunched under my foot.
Glass.
And Mads...
I fell to my knees. "Madelyn."
She lifted her head, sniffling. "It's fine. I'm fine."
Glass was shattered across the floor, and she was sitting in the midst of it, back against the island cabinets, knees bent and tucked against her chest, her arms wrapped around them, her face so red, eyes so swollen, she had to have been crying, curled up like that, for a long while.
"Mads," I breathed, seized by panic, searching for the blood—the blood I was sure was there somewhere.
"I'm fine," she repeated, hiccuping, so clearly not fine I thought I was going to lose my mind.
"Mads," I whispered, crouching closer to her, still searching for blood, reaching for her...
"It's fine," she said through whimpers, through gasping breaths, her eyes filling with tears just as quickly as they overflowed.
I grabbed her shoulders, scanning her body still, only a small bit of relief working it's way into my chest when I found no sign of injury.
She gripped my forearms, hiccuping. "It's fine."
I stared into her eyes—her red, watery eyes—until they crinkled up as more tears fell, as more sobs wracked her. She leaned forward until her head hit my chest, and I wrapped my arms around her, held her for a few moments, then slid a hand beneath her knees and lifted her up away from the glass, sat her down on the island counter.
Mads wrapped her arms around me and dug her face into my neck, still crying—shaking in my arms. I spotted Lila over her shoulder, face beet red from her own tears, and knew I had to get over there as soon as possible. Then, my mind once again registered the pots clattering on the stove behind us.
But I didn't let go. Just a few more moments. A few more seconds of holding her while she finally, finally broke...
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her breath hot on my neck. "I'm sorry."
I closed my eyes, squeezed her harder, let out a breath.
No, I thought.
I am.
___
Author's Note:
So, I'm not like... completely happy with this?? Not just because of what happened between H & V (because obviously that doesn't make me happy... or does it? dun dun DUUUUUN), but bc I've been imagining that scene for so long and somehow, no matter what I did, I just couldn't figure out how to make it as good as what I imagined! SUPER ANNOYING. More annoying is that I know at some point, I'll be rereading this and know exactly what I should've done, which sort of makes me want to not post this until that happens, BUT I'M DOING THIS FOR YOU BC I LOVE YOU ALL.
Hope you don't hate it. Except if you hate it for the obvious reasons :) Because I think I got the point across, no? HOW ARE WE FEELING? And THAT ENDING??? I'm telling ya man, if they don't get their shit together, I'm gonna have a serious talk with them bc I think they need to put us all out of our misery. (Even though I'm secretly LIVING for the tension).
Please let me know your thoughts babes! I don't really like to talk about it, but I've been having a *bit* of a rough go for a while and could use some smiles. And you guys always make me smile :) Lots and lots of love to you all! I can't wait to hear what you think, and as always, I'm SO grateful to you for everything. Have the BEST two weeks ever!! xx