I apologize again for the immense delay; I was really stuck on what the short film of Dez's would be about. I'm still not completely satisfied with it, but I hope it will suffice!
Fade in.
A young man, sitting in a chair – alone, in a dimly-lit room. The lone light bulb hanging from the center of the ceiling flickers.
He's rocking back and forth slightly in his chair, cleaning out the dirt under his fingernails – deep in thought.
There are flashes of imagery; bad report cards, rejection letters, and various angered and disappointed faces. The daunting sounds of words said with such resentment are heard. "Reject", "good-for-nothing", and "failure" are amongst the words that echo around him.
He grips his head, his rocking increasing as the voices continue rising in volume.
He gets up from the chair, and starts pacing around the room, hands grasping his hair. The images flashing get more vivid, and the sounds grow all the more unsettling. It turns into a full-on cacophony and the words from rejection letters scramble across the screen in all directions, varying in size.
Flashes of disappointed faces flicker on and off, with the man slowly crumpling into a heap on to the ground with each flicker.
The lone light bulb in the dimly-lit room continues flickering, even more noticeably now. The young man lets out some heavy sobs, as if mourning the dying bulb. His sobs continue as the light goes out – leaving him in total darkness.
The voices cease, as does the flickering imagery.
Soon after, his sobs are no longer heard, as well. Only his dark silhouette can be seen, sitting still.
All is quiet and uneventful for some time.
The squeak of an opening door disrupts the quiet. A sliver of a white light is let in from the outside. The shadow of a figure is seen in the light trail that had been created from the opened door.
The young man, sitting curled up in the corner of the room, looks up at his visitor. Footsteps are heard, escalating in volume. He shakes, fearful.
Dainty hands come into view, unscrewing the dead light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Another whimper is heard from the man in the corner.
However, soon enough, the dainty hands return into view. They proceed to screw in a new light bulb. Light floods the room instantly after, reaching every corner.
At first, our protagonist shields himself from the light with his arm – squinting, his eyes burning. The visitor, a short, curly-haired young lady, walks over and reaches her hand out to him. He looks up - hesitant at first. He slowly reaches out and takes her hand. She helps him up onto his feet, and then leads him out the door.
The shot then zooms in at the shining bulb, then fades to black.
The words "my hero, my inspiration –my friend" appear in white text, against a blank, black background.
Fade out.
"And that's a wrap!" exclaimed Dez as he finished editing the footage on his computer, somehow managing to complete his masterpiece within the span of twenty-four hours. He spins himself around in his office chair to face his curly-haired friend. "Thanks again for agreeing to act in it, Trish."
"Hey, you know how much the spotlight loves me," Trish gestures to herself and lets out a light chuckle. "It was fun. And I like that you sorta, kinda made me the hero in it."
"Well, you are my hero," Dez mutters, almost inaudibly.
"Sorry, what?" Trish questions, not quite hearing him well enough. Dez shakes his head.
"Nevermind," he looks down at his hands in thought for a few moments. He looks back up and asks, "Hey, how 'bout I treat you to some tiny tacos at Mini's to celebrate finishing the film?"
"Sounds like a plan," she nods, grabbing her purse.
"And…Thanks again for getting that equipment from FilmTools for me," Dez adds. As it turns out, the morning after Dez first told Trish that he did not wish to continue filming anymore, before the cake-off, she went ahead and used her employee discount to buy a whole bunch of film equipment. Shortly after, she was fired – of course, for something completely irrelevant. Dez proceeds to asks her, "But…Why'd you buy all that for me, anyway?"
"I knew you'd get the sense slapped back into you eventually, Freckles," Trish rolls her eyes. "You and filmmaking is like Austin and pancakes..." she quiets her tone down to a mutter, "…or Ally…" she pauses, then continues in a more audible tone of voice, "–inseparable. And you're welcome." Dez gives her a small smile, nodding lightly.
"Well, let's get going then, shall we?" he grabs his keys off the desk. He notices the perturbed look on Trish's face as he does so. The idea of him driving would certainly make anyone uncomfortable. "I'll be careful this time – I promise. Kinda have to be, got precious cargo I needa take with me." His smile widens as her ruffles her hair. Trish is quick to smack his hand away.
"Watch it, you doof!" Trish threatens, playfully. "And alright. Only 'cause you called me precious." She gives him a light punch on the arm, then heads on out – Dez following close behind.
The drive actually turned out to be less nerve-wrecking than usual.
"Trish! Dez! There you guys are!" Ally, with Austin in tow, moves her way towards them and takes a seat at their table. Austin takes his seat next to her. "How's everything?
"A-mazing!" Dez exclaims, gesturing wildly. "We finished my short film before the application deadline. I'm all set, just needa submit it." He does a little victory dance in his seat.
"What – really? That's awesome, Dez!" Austin cheers. "But...So…Does this mean you're going to stick with filmmaking then, after all?" His freckled-friend nods.
"I know it seemed like all these trials were a waste of time now that I've decided that filmmaking is, and has always been, my true calling…But…It really was all worth it. I think I needed to go through all of that to push past the slump I've been in. It really helped," he turns to their curly-haired friend sitting beside him. "Trish really helped." He gives her one of his small, most genuine smiles. "Thank you, Curly." Trish reflects his countenance, looking back up at him.
"Yeah, sure thing, Freckles," she says, her smile unwavering. They continue this exchange of happiness for a few more moments – until the sound of Austin clearing his throat interrupts their trance. Trish and Dez awkwardly turn back to face Austin and Ally, Dez rubbing the back of his neck.
"You guys alright?" Austin raises a brow. Ally's smile widens, looking between them two.
"You know, I'm really glad you two are getting along so well now. I mean, sure, it took - what? Almost four years now? And sure, there's still the exchange of tasteful insults, but-" Ally starts, only to be cut off by Austin putting a finger to her lips.
"Ally, maybe we should go finish that song now?" Austin nudges her lightly with his elbow. He figured Trish and Dez wished to hang out alone.
"What? But we already fin-" Ally begins, but stops herself once she catches on. "-Oh! Oh, right…Yeah…Still gotta add those finishing touches!" She nods quickly, turning to Trish and Dez. "Well, gotta go –bye guys! And Dez, we'd love to see your short film later. We're so proud of you!" Ally gets up, links arms with Austin, and the two of them scurry away – both giggling for some reason.
Trish and Dez watch in silence, with confused looks upon their faces, as their two friends rush away. Dez decides to break the silence after a beat.
"Well, those two are just a rollercoaster aren't they?" Dez shakes his head. "They really need to figure out their…Weird thing they have going." Trish nods in agreement.
"I'd probably recommend meddling, but that usually doesn't end well," she shrugs. She starts shuffling through her purse, looking for her lip balm. "Where'd the heck did that lip balm go?" Dez is suddenly reminded of something from her doing so.
"Oh! Trish, I just remembered…" he pulls out his wallet. "Let's see…Fifty for calling you over for a make-over at 4 AM…" He sets two twenties and a ten dollar bill on the table. "And here's another twenty for agreeing to be my assistant in the magic act…" He sets down another twenty. "I know I owe you at least fifty for that, but this is all I have right now, sorry. I'll get you the rest later." He gives her an apologetic smile.
Trish's eyes light up and she puts on a Cheshire-like grin – eyeing the money on the table greedily, wiggling her fingers just above the table, ready to gather all of the green and stuff it into her purse. She stops herself just as she is about to grab hold of a twenty. A surge of guilt floods through her, stopping her hand in its tracks. She frowns, dropping her hands into her lap, her eyes following them. Dez's brows scrunch together with worry.
"What? Not enough? Look, Trish, I can go rush over to the bank and check if my account has any-"
Trish raises a hand to silence him. "Keep the money, Dez." I know I'm going to regret this later, she contemplates. Dez, confused, leans closer towards her, attempting to look her in the eyes as she continues looking down.
"Is everything okay, Trish? You never refuse money," he whispers to her, putting a hand onto her shoulder. She shifts her eyes over to him, turning her head just slightly.
"Yeah…It's just that…I had fun, y'know? Hanging out and stuff," she shrugs. "And well, I didn't help you out for the money, believe it or not. I helped cause we're friends. We are friends, right?" She looked kind of unsure. She did not ask for the money, so why would he suddenly decide to pay up, as if he was so ready to make their friendship a transaction?
Granted, it was that way before. However, their friendship had certainly grown past that. As much as she wanted the money, she just could not bring herself to take it.
Dez stares at her, unsure of how to respond. Of course, they're friends. Why would she even ask such a question? Instead of giving her a straight answer, he leans down and pulls her into an embrace, resting his head upon her shoulder. Trish is reluctant at first, but manages to bring herself to return the hug. He presses his cheek against hers and mutters, "So…I can keep the cash, then?" She pulls herself away, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.
"Yes, Dez, you can keep the money," she responds in a snide manner as she grabs her purse off the table.
Dez lets out a sigh of relief, "Good, 'cause I'mma need to fill up my mom's car, it's all out of gas." He gathers up the bills on the table, then sticks them back into his wallet.
"Well, I need to head over to Shredder's. Hazel called earlier, saying she's got some work for me," Trish says, getting up from her seat.
"Alright…Well, I guess I'll see you later then, Curls," the redhead abruptly hops out of his seat, rests his hands on Trish's shoulders, leans down, and gives her a quick, but firm, peck on the lips. As if it was completely ordinary. As if it was the natural thing to do.
Trish stands still, arms at her side and her eyes wide, staring back at the tall boy. Her body frozen, but her face heating up. Did he really just-?
"Mmm, and I don't think you need that lip balm, but here," he fishes his own ChapStick out from his pocket. "You can have this." Trish, still silent and in shock, takes the lip balm from him.
"Uh…Thanks," she finally chokes out, still stiff in her spot. He ruffles her hair, once again, pivots on his heel and starts walking away, whistling a cheery tune.
"Bye, Trish!" he calls out, then continues to whistle as he treks onward through the mall.
Trish watches as he walks away, letting out a sharp exhale, but allowing herself to smile a little.
"Later, Dez."
I hope that was fluffy enough for everyone. And I hope it was worth the wait, maybe?
One more chapter left! Hold on to your seatbelts, lovelies! Ride's almost over. ;D
I'd like to thank WinterFairy7337, SakuraSpark, trezkabobisay, Fizzy Starburst, and also the Guest commenter for reviewing my last chapter! You guys are wonderful and I really appreciate your feedback. c:
-AJ