*So...hi. Yeah, I haven't been around because I've just had crud to do I guess? I don't know, maybe it was Glee flailing. See, my OTP for that show got back together and now I think they're done for again because of stupid Finchel -_- Anyways, this story does have cursing in it, though I don't condone it. NOT AT ALL. So, um, please enjoy!*
Frantic, heavy footsteps accompanied by labored breathing filled the corridors of the asylum. A bare lightbulb flickered on noisily, bringing the hallway of creaky metal floors and graffiti-stained walls to life. A loud crash echoed throughout the hall followed by a sharp inhale and more running. The runner, a girl clad in dark combat boots and even darker clothing had just turned the corner when the light suddenly shut off. Nothing could be seen then, and the only thing heard was the sound of her panting, gasping for air. Moments later, the light turned back on again. The girl's dark gray eyes shot from side to side, her grip on the hunk of wood in her hand tightening. Suddenly, she stiffened. She slowly lifted the wood to her shoulders so that she was holding it like a club. Her panting stopped as she slowly whirled around, the new sound being an eerie creak from the ground below her. When she was halfway around in her circular journey, she stopped, her eyes darting around the room again. She took two or three cautious steps towards the corner opposite of the one she came from. Her back laid flush against the crumbling old wall for a full minute or so. She didn't seem to notice the bony gray hand reaching for her shoulder or the old, heinous face inching itself towards her. When the yellow fingernail brushed a sliver of her pale skin she gasped, bringing the club around until it slammed against the creature's head, effectively hurling it across the hall. Blood spurted all over her dark clothing and teal hair, even planting itself on her equally dark-colored lips. She took a step forward, her body hovering over the creature's cloaked remains, her face stoic.
"And, cut!" A man's husky voice intruded the scene. Sighing, the girl released her grip on the club, letting it hit the ground with a hollow clunk. She carelessly stepped over the corpse, making her way off the movie set. She grabbed a bottle of water someone had held out to her and pulled the small towel off her chair. Making her way to her dressing room as she wiped the apparently fake blood off her face. Standing at the door to her room, she chugged down half the water bottle and wiped the black lipstick off her face before entering the room. A smile found it's way to her face when she found who was waiting for her inside. Seated on her navy-colored couch with a notebook and pen in hand was her boyfriend, better known in Hollywood as Talon Pryse. He was famous for starring as the kickass male hero in a few horror movies a couple years back and was currently working on writing a script for one of his own macabre creations to be brought to the big screen. He and his girlfriend met at a premiere for one of her movies a few months back and had actually hit it off. It was a rarity for both considering they hated and were hated in the starlet circuit. When they had come together as a couple six months ago, they had suddenly shot up to the big leagues; A-Listers.
"Hey. You're early." He noted, puzzled. His girlfriend sighed, dropping the reddened towel onto the couch and bringing a hand to her forehead.
"Yeah, well, David decided to not have me do five-hundred takes this time."
"Aw, chill out, Gwen. Dave's an awesome director, he's just kind of a perfectionist." The silver-haired man shrugged, his blue eyes shining. Gwen gave him a half-smile, reaching down to ruffle his hair before retreating to her vanity. Shooting was done for the day, but she had outings and errands to run. The paparazzi was sure to follow. "So, you have that interview later?" Talon queried, flipping a page of his notebook.
"Yeah." She answered quietly, her concentration on her eyeshadow. "Are you going to be there?" Gwen asked when she had finished her eyeshadow, trading it for a fresh eyeliner pencil. He answered as she painted her waterline.
"Backstage probably. Who is this with again?"
"Celebrity Manhunt." She responded bitterly. The majority of the time, Gwen loved interviews. They were engaging and hilarious and the audience supported her. But she had been interviewed by the Celebrity Manhunt jokers before; sure, it was many years ago and both parts of the infamous duo that harassed her were retired old potato sacks, but still, the name made her squirm. She finished lining her eyes and glossed over lips quickly.
"Maybe I should come out there with you, on camera. You may kill someone if I don't." Talon joked, his eyes glued to his notebook.
"It's true!" She agreed laughingly. After a quick change of clothes and numerous hair fixes, the couple was off the Celebrity Manhunt Studio.
It was another quiet night in the Palmetto Luxury Hotel's penthouse suite. It's lone occupant sighed, flopping himself onto his couch and reaching instinctively for his cell phone.
"Nothing new." He sighed, his deep voice booming throughout the room. As if on cue the screen lit up to notify him of an incoming text. Eagerly he pressed the green button to read.
"Wassup, Duncan? Bridge and I are catching some epic waves in Hawaii right now, it's sick! How's the day off, dude? I know you hate those. -Geoff"
Duncan smirked as he finished reading the message. He had known Geoff for years now and never got tired of his surfer lingo. The blonde party animal was on his honeymoon with his wife and professional surfer, Bridgette, whom of which he had also known for years. Duncan's smirk grew wider and he was about to type a wiseass reply when the large TV across the room suddenly got louder. He furrowed his brow and grabbed the remote, intending to turn the volume down so it wouldn't be a nuisance, but somehow he found himself frozen, unable to move or tear his eyes from the screen.
Walking onto the stage of whatever stupid talk show it was was Gwen. Gwen Grey. His Gwen Gray. "Not mine anymore." He reminded himself for what must've been the millionth time but he paid no attention to that, instead getting comfortable on the couch and gluing his eyes to the screen. Gwen had sat down in a tacky orange armchair by now and was rambling on about her movies or upcoming projects or some stupid crud like that but Duncan wasn't listening, not really. Instead he was taking in her appearance, his eyes raking up and down her body several times. She was beautiful, "as always." He muttered inaudibly.
She hadn't looked too different from the last time he saw her (Three years, seven months and nineteen days but who's counting?). Her bob, once streaked with dark teal had been given a disheveled, rocker-type look and purple highlights. Her alabaster skin stretched over her collarbone almost enticingly, smooth and creamy under the fluorescent lights. Duncan heard her giggle and his heart raced as he focused on her words.
"I don't think the director would be okay with me saying much more." She smiled. Even through the television screen, he could see her deep gray eyes smiling as well. The sight was breathtaking in itself.
"So," The female host smirked. "How's everything going in the relationship department?" Whatever audience was there hushed with their giggles and claps. Clearly they were as interested as Duncan had suddenly became. Gwen lifted a bare hand and flopped it onto the propped up knee of whatever-whomever- was sitting next to her.
"Boyfriend." She said with a soft smile. Duncan stared the loser down as if he could actually see him through the screen. He was genuinely disappointed in Gwen. He could totally screw up this guy's face if he wanted to. There were practically any piercings and his "dumb scene cut" as Duncan had already grown accustomed to calling it was silver! "What the hell kind of epic dye job is silver?" He thought to himself, his own hand threading through his green mohawk.
"I prefer Talon." The guy spoke up, smirking. The audience erupted with laughter and praise.
"Talon Pryse." The host greeted him in a nod. "I loved you in Revenge Of The Massacre." Talon nodded and gave her a half smile as she flipped her blonde hair dramatically, turning her attention back to Gwen. "So, Dear, keep in touch with any of your other old celebrity flames?" Her brow lifted suggestively.
"I talk to Trent sometimes." She tried as innocently as she could, shrugging her shoulders in a gesture Duncan could only classify as adorable. (Don't tell anyone that, though.)
"Juicy, but not what I meant." The blonde dismissed her flippantly. "I was thinking more..." She paused like a certain mohawked viewers' heart. "Duncan Wolfsbane." Said mohawked viewer gripped the nearest armrest tightly and tried to swallow down the gigantic lump lodged in his throat.
On the screen, Gwen swallowed as well.
"Um, awkward." She laughed nervously, her eyes glued to the floor. Talon leaned in towards her, looking interested in her answer. She gulped. "I saw him in that movie last week, but other that we haven't really...kept in touch since we-"
"Okay, you bore me now!" The host announced. "Shoo!"
"What?" Gwen questioned. Before a response was given, her and Talon were escorted off the stage.
"See you after the commercial break!" Shutting the TV off, Duncan whipped out his cell phone, dialing the number he had never built up the courage to call until now, though he had desperately wanted to. With each ring he grew more anxious, and after the third ring he started praying-literally praying-that she hadn't changed her number.
"Hello?" The gravelly voice on the other line greeted confusedly. Duncan let out the breath he'd been holding in a hiss.
"Gwen." He said, surprised at how good her name felt rolling off his tongue. "I need to talk to you."
*Don't worry, I know where I'm going with this story...I think. Anyhoo, reviews would be so lovely you don't even know the half of it. Also, you all need Tumblrs. Your lives will be so complete! :D*