the improv

                                    

                                          
june
production
                          
"I told you to bring them." He says, his buds tucked into his ear as you sit on the step of your trailer. "Did you download your playlists?" 
                          
"Yeah but that's no good without my headphones, is it?" You'd left them on the side in your room, thinking you could grab them on the way out but he'd knocked on your door about ten minutes too early and sent you into a panicked rush. 
                          
"Well no but I bet you won't forget them tomorrow." He says, lips curling into a smirk as he stands in front of you. 
                          
It's coming up to six now, the sun only just appearing whole from behind the horizon. The rays break through a line of clouds that are thick in colours, pastels bleeding into each other as it warms. The world around you was quiet, away from the streams of traffic that would soon appear. In the distance, you can just about hear others talking as they set up for the day. 
                          
"Here," Sebastian says, passing you one of his Bluetooth headphones. "I pick the music, though. You don't get a say." 
                          
"Thanks." You push it into your ear, it doesn't quite fit but it stays in place without falling. 
                          
You go to say something before he opens his mouth slightly, eyebrows high as he waits for your comment. His hair is so fluffy today as you film your scenes in chronological order before he has to shave the sides and trim the top in a week. 
                          
"Were you going to say something?" He asks. "Because I can take it back." Sebastian holds his hand out flat in front of you, fingers in line with your eyes. 
                          
"I was just going to say it's a bit slow.  A bit moody." 
                          
"Give it back." 
                          
"Okay, I'm sorry, it's good."
                          
"I'm just trying to get into character." He says, skipping to another song.
                          
"Oh, so you have a few different ways then?" You tease, looking up at him through the blur of your lashes as he stands.
                          
"Hmm. Depends." 
                          
He's looking down at you now, feet kicking at dust as he tucks his hands into his pockets. He tilts his heads as if he's trying to read your mind. 
                          
"Did you get your sides?" He asks suddenly, looking away from you now. 
                          
"No, I didn't get anything." You think you know that word, like a mini script. Pages that you'd be filming today, small and handy so you could carry them around and practice. "Should I have sides?" 
                          
"Yeah, do you not know what we're filming today?" There's a tone to his voice but you can't quite make it out when his face is serious and unmoving. 
                          
"Sebastian, should I have sides? I thought we were filming parts of the flashbacks?" 
                          
"Seb. Call me Seb, for fucks sake, Y/N. We are, but do you not have your sides?" 
                          
"Sebastian." You stand up now, panicking a little and your palms start to sweat. "They weren't on your list of things to remember." You rush into your caravan, emptying your bag onto the table even though you definitely don't think you were given any. 
                          
Sebastian has followed you inside and bursts into a laugh when you turn to him, empty backpack brushing the floor as you bring your hands to your sides.
                          
"I can see how this is going to go." You say. "Okay, gotcha. Game on, Stan." You throw the bag onto the table and it slams. 
                          
"No, I think it's all down to us today. An improv kind of deal."