Came from a conversation with my friend Charlie, and evolved into something with multi-chapters :) I hope you enjoy! I own nothing; characters are the fantastical CP Coulter's.
Sunday nights were always rather depressing for Clark Sawyer. He always got that 'Monday morning' feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he hated it with a passion. Sunday nights meant staying in his trailer and getting ready for the week of work Sunday nights meant going to sleep early and waking up even earlier the next day. Sunday nights meant no midnight conversations with Julian. And call Clark sentimental, but he really missed their heart-to-hearts in his trailer. Clark frowned. Yeah, he hated Sunday nights. The blond absent-mindedly turned over the page of his magazine; the very magazine that happened to contain shirtless pictures of the younger actor - but that had absolutely nothing to do with why Clark had bought it. He was very interested in… easy-cook recipes… and knitting patterns. There was the sound of a door opening, and Clark glanced up briefly from the magazine to see Julian Larson entering the trailer. "Hey, J," he murmured, raising a hand before looking back down to his magazine. It was usual for the brunet to- Wait. Brunet. Clark looked up so quickly he could have sworn he heard his neck crack. Sure enough, he was right.
"Julian… Your hair's turned pink!"
The former brunet pulled off his sunglasses as he collapsed into the sofa next to Clark and gave the blond a withering look. "Oh, wow! I hadn't noticed," he drawled, sarcasm dripping from his words. "I hate it. This is terrible. This stupid, stupid role…" He gestured angrily with his hands, frowning. "I don't understand why I had to have this done today. I mean, the flight's tomorrow evening; why did I need to have this – " Angry hand gestures towards his hot pink hair. "- done today?" Clark bit back a laugh.
"I think," the older actor paused, considering his words. "…you look wonderful." His heart skipped a beat. Internally, he was yelling; "STOP. STOP, YOU'VE GONE TOO FAR. STOP BEFORE YOU TELL HIM EVERYTHING!" But his mouth kept going. "I think it goes beautifully with your skin tone, and I think the way it's a warmer pink, rather than neon, really works well with your eyes. You look like autumn. That's my favourite season," he rambled on, before realising how much he'd said and turning bright red while staring furiously at the magazine. The pink-haired boy in front of him froze, before slowly taking the magazine from Clark, and moving closer to him. His hand touched the blond's pale cheek, and tilted his head up so that caramel eyes met peppermint. They were so close now that when Julian let out a tiny whisper of air, and - true to his autumnal appearance - it ruffled Clark's fringe like a warm breeze in October. The silence surrounding the two actors was not an uncomfortable one; it was tense, yes, but it was not awkward. It was simply as though somebody had paused time. And they were stuck, staring into the other's eyes. As cliché as it was, Clark found he couldn't turn away. Julian had mesmerized him. It was exactly like a scene from a romantic movie. And sure enough, the ex-brunet's eyelashes fluttered gently closed, and they simultaneously moved towards each other, lips meeting gently. It lasted mere seconds, but that was all they needed. Julian pulled away. He stood, shocked, in the centre of the room. He shook his head, pink waves falling over his eyes gently. "I… need to sort my head out," Julian choked. Blue eyes grew dull as Clark realized why the rose haired boy had pulled away. He stood, turned on his heel and headed straight to his room. But before he could break down, he took one look at Julian and uttered a solitary word.
"Leave."
The pink haired boy needed no other instructions - he fled from the trailer instantly. And Clark had never felt worse.