NOTE: Good morning, Wattpad! Can you believe Christmas is in two days? REMEMBER LAST YEAR, WHEN WE WERE GETTING READY FOR FAMOUXMAS?? Who would've thought I'd be posting a rewrite of chapter 2 right now. Wow.
I hope you've been having a good week, and I hope you enjoy today's chapter. Again, it's going to sound a lot like the previous draft, but there is plenty new stuff too, so keep reading! I love youuu.
PREVIOUSLY ON THE CLASSIX: Emeray told us in the preface that she and Cartney are really loved by the public. Chapter obviously is as well, but the other members have been getting some bad press lately. They're hella frustrated about it. ALSO, we went into DEFED's point of view in chapter 1. Apparently there's a spy in the Famoux and yes, Finley is most definitely in DEFED. Remember Finley, Foster's old love? Lol. Love is real.
EMERAY
It is a perfectly cloudless day in March, yet snow hits the pavement between he and I like an insistent, brutal storm. This should be impossibleââsnow without clouds to bring it down from the skyââbut it wouldn't be the first contradiction we've faced today. The very nature of our impending interaction breaks almost every boundary we've grown accustomed to these past months. Two hundred and seventy four days and three pens on paper are pretty indefatigable subjects; not the easiest of opposers to vanquish. And so, if today it snows without any clouds to supply it, and if today we can move down this pavement with full faith in our intentions, no moment should be put to waste.
We walk, serendipitously, toward one another.
I keep my hands by my sides, my breathing quick and choppy. It feels like the first time in a thousand years that I've gotten to walk down a street without a hand by my side in need of holding. As much as I'd like to relish in it for as long as I can, I'd also like to close the distance. Chances like this don't come everyday.
He keeps his hands by his sides, his chest moving up and down slower and steadier than mine. Even so, I know for a fact that he's just as nervous as I am, if not greater; it's flooding up those eyes of his that I used to lengthily wonder whether or not I'd ever be able to read. What we're doing here is more than colossalââit's an existentially profound move for both of our images. We know exactly what the masses will say about it just as much as we have not a damn clue.
Steps are calculated but sloppy from fervor. My heart careens within my chest right along with my brain within my skull.
We are not alone along this snow-sprinkled pavement on this perfectly cloudless day in March. We are far from alone. We are in the midst of a vivid, glittering metropolis: there are passers in big pea-coats on the sidewalk, shoppers in stores, vendors with bright blue umbrellas collecting the steam of their portable fryers, bright yellow taxis honking in evening traffic. The sunset is almost too perfect against the buildingsââthe kind newscasters would film and make small talk about on their broadcasts when there's nothing too serious to be discussed.
So much attention and life and pulsations happening around us, and yet our efforts go unvanquished still.
His steps meet my steps. My steps meet his steps.
I meet him and he meets me.
"Onward," Chapter Stones whispers.
My voice is soft to suit. "Onward."
In spite of every person gathered around us, and in spite of their peaked attention getting rendered on this one slab of sidewalk we've laid hold of as our own, and in spite of their eyes like daggers and sabers and fully flexed biceps ready to punch what they see, Chapter takes the sides of my face in his hands.
His fingers are not calloused the same way Cartney's are from years of strumming, plucking, and pressing down on the frets of an acoustic guitar. Chapter's fingers are strong and warm; without too much friction making his fingertips too thick to feel I'm there. He strokes the side of my face anyway, perhaps to make sure nothing is a mirage. I do just the same with the back of his neck.
The breaths I'm taking in come right along his exhales. The air can't quite seem to find my lungs too wellââthat is, well enough to help me breathe easy. My mind is a widening gyre without a center-point to hold onto. How long has it been since I've gotten to be this close to Chapter? How long will this moment last?
Our eyes dart to every corner and crack and crevasse on each other's faces. The air between us is full of apprehension and hankering. It all comes as one swift nanosecond to watchers, but an eternity to me.
He moves toward me just as I move toward him.
Our lips touch.
We are a match, and we've struck, and we're afire, afire.
Chapter pulls me closer to him, the front of his suit pressing against the front of my coat. I can almost feel his heart, quick and pounding, beneath all the layers separating the two of us. I bet he can feel mine too. My hands go up to his hair, but even so, I'm not sure. Every nerve ending in my body has gone completely haywire.
A dozen people around us, but the sidewalk could very well be empty. Snow falling in late Colburn winter, one of the worst areas for such a season, and yet the weather doesn't account for even one of the goose-bumps prickling on my skin. Months of despair and despondency since the sun last came back out and we lost a friend, and I have never felt more animate and teeming and wholly extant until this moment.
The back of his neck is warm and smooth against my hands. In a breath, the thought passes out of my lips like a rumor. I'm not even sure if I say it. I know very well I shouldn't, for the sake of the circumstance.
"Is this going to ruin our lives?"
He doesn't reply, which is a response as any. Do we care?
A call from beyond interrupts, as if some divine force has stomped right into the streets of Colburn.
"Cut!"
A bell sounds.
In an instant, the city becomes a replica once again, with all its grit and realism darting away with the spotlights.
Fake snow stops falling.
Microphones shut off.
Extras stop moving down the street and break their character with an exhale and a little laugh.
Our kiss concludes with an unceremonious pull away. Chapter and I step back from each other a little maladroit.
Another scene in our new film, Onward Train, finished.
"Absolutely perfect!"
This comes from a lady in a crisp black blazer and thin glassesââShailey Passey, our director. She nods approvingly, putting her thumb up for more confirmation.
"All right?" Chapter asks, just for the flare of it.
"Some of your best work, truly. And Emeray, I loved that little added murmur near the end, whatever it really was. It added a good personable feel to the whole scene, especially since the mics only got it muffled. People are going to be wondering what the hell you said for years, me included."
"Glad you enjoyed," he says, looking at me with a smirk.
"Oh, that's definitely a wrap on this set," she tells us. "We've gotten everything we need here."
As she says this, someone off beyond us is clapping slow and loud over the bustle of staffers and caterers. I'm already rolling my eyes before I turn to see him getting up from a big black director's chair. He advances toward us, grinning with a sort of forced fervor that can only come from disdain at seeing two people kissing. I can see it right in the creases of his smileââa longing to kiss the person he loves.
"That was such a great scene, kids!" Cartney Kirk says with mock acclaim. He puts a hand to his chest and nods to Shailey. "God, it almost felt like it wasn't acting. I can just smell the awards, can't you?"
"Now, now, don't jinx anything, Kirk." Shailey twists one of her blue stud earringsââa nervous habit of hers which Chapter and I have slowly picked up over the past week of filming. It's part of her long list of superstitions, all of which revolve around the film's success. She pummels any mention of the box office to a bad omen, and demands everybody knock on wood if we film a good scene. It might've seemed odd at first, but she's got enough awards under her belt to make anything ludicrous seem incredibly and whole-heartedly legitimate.
"My bad." Cartney puts his hands up like he's been caught. "I didn't mean to ruin the mojo, honest."
"You've got to watch your mouth a little more, then!" She nods to Chapter and I. "You guys are all finished here. Are you leaving tonight?"
"I think the jet's already here to pick us up," says Chapter. "Norax is pretty eager to have us back."
Just the thought of going back to the Metropolix fills me with dread. When we left, Kaytee and Race both were refusing to even look at me, and I can assume the tabloids that have been going around since I've been gone haven't made them want to acknowledge me any more. The sterility in that apartment right now reminds me of how I used to feel when I first got my roomââon edge, anxious, like there's something watching me all the time.
"Well, it was nice working with you both on this set. Amazing actors you two are. We film in Eldae next week."
As Shailey leads Cartney away, demanding he knock on one of the wooden set doors this instant, a few seconds alone are gained. Even though there are plenty more staffers still bustling about the set around us, there's nothing wrong with a little more talk between Chapter and I, and we'll take as much talk time as we can possibly get without Cartney waiting for a good enough reason to exercise his contractual powers.
I turn to Chapter, who's scratching the back of his neck, where my hands used to be. He speaks in a low whisper, just in case anybody on set is trying to listen into our conversation. Wouldn't be the first time someone listened in on a Famoux member.
"Haven't done that in a while, huh?"
"Months," I reply.
"Three. And one of those months on set." He looks around us, taking it. We've been on this set plenty times beforeââthe outdoors set, so no traffic is generated on an actual streetââbut today was the first time we'd ever had to film anything like this. He seems to be thinking about it too. "Weeks of all those meaningless dialogues with the other actors, and we just now got a kiss scene."
I blush, which feels ridiculous. "I guess they just wanted to get all the Notness scenes out of the way while we're here in Notness. And then, of course, the only Betnedoor scene where we're supposed to be outside on a set."
"Very true." He gestures to the set around us. "Can't exactly film something like this in an actual street if we want the people walking by to act natural."
We laugh, imagining it. It would be absolute chaos, even if the cameras were all out and we had signs set up proclaiming, THIS IS A SCENE IN A MOVIE! The only time they'd believe it to be fake is on screen, in theaters. Even then, there would probably be skeptics.
These types of skeptics are the exact reason why Norax was hesitant about letting us film Onward Train. The thing is, Chapter and I are the only members in the public's good graces as of now, which is the main reason she even signed off on the deal. The heed she took with it was understandableâif anyone on the set were to find out about us and respond the same way they did Race and Kaytee, well, the Famoux could likely plummet straight into nothingness. And what would happen to all of us if the spotlights were to go out? Where would we go? We haven't the slightest idea what the last Famoux generation is up to right now. For all we know they're holed up in weird body-preservation coffins or something creepy of the sort. I certainly don't want to find out for myself.
That being said, there's a lot of pressure riding on the way Chapter Stones and I interact off-camera. We're as careful as possible. This last scene is the first time we've gotten to be somewhat close in a very long time.
Chapter looks down at my fingers as they glide along the marble caps on his cufflinks. They're maroon.
"It's so unrealistic," I say.
"What is?"
"That you'd be wearing only a suit jacket in the middle of Colburn winter. Most overcoats coats aren't even enough."
When I glance up at Chapter, he's watching me with the softest smile. We're still so close, I can feel my insides melting into nothing in all of a second. I quickly let go of his cuff link, taking a small step back just so no one who might be watching gets any ideas. As I move away, a hint of sadness flickers in his expression, and I'm positive my own disappointment matches his twofold.
"Nobody's paying that much attention to detail, love," he whispers to me. "They just like it when I wear suits."
"They like it when I date Cartney, too, but that doesn't make any of it realistic."
"Sticks." He puts a finger to his lips, but he can't hide his smirk. I wouldn't want him toââsmiles come so rarely nowadays, with all of the animosity floating around the Metropolix. "Keep your voice down."
"Hey, hey, what are you two laughing about over here?"
Cartney's back, stepping right between Chapter and I, making a show of it. He throws an arm quite dramatically around my shoulders, leaning his head into my neck with a satisfied sigh. His grip only tightens as Chapter's face hardens into a scowl, and I reckon that reaction is exactly what he was aiming for.
"Oh come on, Cartney," I say, shrugging out of his grip on me. "You really don't have to do that."
"And why not?"
"You're being unnecessary."
"Hardly!"
It's a word the two of us have been using often nowadays, unnecessary. In any social situation, it is important for Cartney and I to make clear to one another how we should be acting based on the volume and status of those around us. Thus, before either of us does a whole lot of one thing, from holding hands to kissing to loudly proclaiming devotion, we turn to each other and discreetly whisper, "Unnecessary?" If the other shakes their head, it's permission to move forward.
As Norax and the people at Buchan have made clear in many meetings, it is imperative we balance our affections. We can't be too smitten around other celebrities, or they might see right through the act. We can't be too collected around the fans, or rumors might come up about a rough patch. With everyone so happy with us being together, any negativity surrounding our relationship is the last thing anybody needs.
"You really are being unnecessary, though," Chapter tells Cartney. "Everyone on the set hates you guys for being so lovey all the time. I could hear them talking about it at breakfast this morning."
"Are you sure it's not just you talking to yourself?"
He glares, but I see the grin beneath it. "Make no mistake, Kirk. I deeply value the days in my life where I don't see you at all."
He laughs. "And yet, on those days Emeray is always with me."
"Come on, you know thatââ"
They continue their banter on the walk from the set to the trailers. All the while, I stand in between them, feeling like I should take off my heels and walk barefoot so that they don't have to keep craning their necks past me to speak to one another.
It is an incredibly odd dynamic, the two of them. Chapter trusts Cartney to keep the secret of the Fissarex and Callan, and Cartney has commended Chapter before in our own private conversations, but none of it constitutes to an actual, genuine friendship. Perhaps it would've, if Cartney didn't have to date me, or if Chapter didn't have to watch us holding hands everyday on our very publicly broadcasted walks. I can tell by the way their insults carry humor instead of aggression that they too acknowledge this.
Dating contracts seem to put a rut in everything, really.
When we reach the trailers, I clear my throat. "Um, we have about a couple minutes until the jet leaves, right?"
Chapter turns away from Cartney, putting a hand in front of his face.
Cartney's eyes roll. "Oh, real mature!"
But Chapter ignores him, softly telling me to be ready to go in around twenty minutes. While his hand temporarily steals Cartney's attention, he takes the opportunity to mouth, "I love you." The way my breath catches near giddily makes him smile. I mouth it back before I turn away, hoping to myself that nobody on set saw it.
xxx
Tell me your thoughts.
Also, keep reading on. This was an almost 3000 word chapter but you get a double update. Love you.
Sticks and Stones make break your bones, but haters make you famoux. Stay classy, stay classix.