【 REAL LIFE ! 】

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THE TABLE READ WAS RIGHT AFTER LUNCH. It gave enough time for everyone to wake up and be ready to go, as well as give those flying in the time to settle in their hotels or guest houses before getting straight to work, and Mette appreciated it, because it gave her enough time to force herself out of her bed and try not to panic.

She was excited to start the table read, what with being able to see all her cast mates, as well as being able to toss ideas back and forth with Tisha and her team of writers—she was very open like that, allowing them to actually explore their characters, it was why Diana was shown being tired so much, because Mette knew what it was like.

But, of course, because of what had recently happened, she knew that she would get more than her fair share of worried looks and questions, and she loved how much they cared, it was wonderful, but she was not emotionally ready for this much interaction.

She took a deep breath as she looked at her outfit in the mirror, taking in her skirt and sweater, wearing her hair down, as it would be cut short soon—she had worn a beanie filming the day before, but she would have to cut it for the role—and she began to think about all the comments she received, thinking about all the people who screamed at her for allowing her pictures to be edited for photoshoots.

It was hard to be comfortable with herself as it was, but it was even harder when people were screaming at her to. It wasn't that easy, and many of them knew that, but they seemed to expect something different from her.

Shaking her head, she made her way towards her pantry, only to pause. This was something she had to learn over time, what with her habit of eating when bored or stressed, and she reminded herself that she had just eaten breakfast some hours ago while watching a movie in bed, she wasn't hungry.

But she could eat.

She stopped herself before she opened the pantry, turning around and making her way back to her bed, pausing before she laid down again. There was still two hours before she had to start making her way over to the table read, but she had a feeling that if she laid down, she wouldn't be getting back up again, and she needed to be on her best behavior if she wanted to convince people that she was okay.

Because she was. She was absolutely more than fine, they just cared a lot about her, which was appreciated, but not strictly necessary.

Still, she opted for settling on top of her covers, sitting up, which wasn't one of her favorite positions, but guaranteed that she wouldn't curl up into a ball and fall asleep for the next seven hours; it had happened before, and she really didn't want it happening again.

She sighed as she opened up one of her favorite movies—it was new, fairly satirical and an easy watch, nothing too heavy yet nothing offensive—and was able to make it through the first twenty minutes before there was a knock on her door.

She was surprised she had even heard it, as the sound was turned up rather high and she had a habit of not paying attention to anything else when she was focused, yet her attention was immediately diverted, and her heart raced as she stared at her door, confused as to who could be on the other side.

She checked her phone, seeing no new notifications, the only ones from that morning being the good morning pep talks from the expected cast mates who were much more aware of what she was going through than the others.

She had to admit, it was nice to wake up to a blank screen. Of course, it hurt sometimes, and reminded her of how lonely she was, but at least she didn't become exhausted so early in the morning, looking at replies and comments and posts, trying to catch up in all that she missed while sleeping.

Focusing back to the present, she set her laptop aside, carefully making her way towards her door, adjusting her clothes, trying to figure out the best course of action depending on the person behind, hoping that it wasn't a murderer waiting on the other side.

The amount of times she expected there to be a murderer on the other side of her door, or inside her apartment waiting for her, was astounding, yet somewhat expected.

Taking a steadying breath, she opened her door, reminding herself to add a chain lock alongside her deadbolt, so she could choose to open it partway if she wanted.

Out of all the people she was expecting, she wasn't expecting him.

She gasped as she caught sight of Tom standing in front of her with his suitcase by his side and a baseball cap thrown over his head, his smile as blinding and boyish as ever, and she felt herself shriek as she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him close.

Tom groaned happily as he squeezed her, holding her as close as possible as they struggled to remain upright, Tom lifting her up into the air, Mette squealing as her legs kicked before he set her down, not pulling away. Tom sighed happily as he tucked his face into the crook of her neck, Mette's nose crushed against his shoulder, but she found she could hardly care, her cheeks hurting from smiling so much.

"Can we go inside, I think my neighbor is watching us," she mumbled, and he jumped, pulling away from her to grab his suitcase, trying to slap her hands away as she fought him for it, the two arguing over who got to bring it inside.

"We'll bring it in together," she reasoned, and Tom laughed, the two holding onto the suitcase, wheeling it inside.

Tom laughed during the entire trek, and it was less than thirty seconds, but it was a less than thirty seconds she wished she could relive forever, the feeling of his thousand watt smile directed towards her, his nose scrunched up and his tongue poking out of his teeth as he bent his head towards her, the two crouched low to bring in the suitcase, and it was all so unreal she could hardly believe it was happening.

She watched as Tom moved to close the door, glancing towards her, a hand hovering over the lock. She nodded, inclining her head towards him, and he shut the deadbolt, the sound filling the small apartment, the two shifting.

He turned back towards her, and they stood there for a moment, Mette in the middle of the room and Tom right by the door, like he just remembered himself, looking around at the apartment, humming to himself before looking back at her, smiling with his eyes more than his mouth.

With his eyes, everything screamed. Every ounce of joy and excitement radiated from his eyes, but his mouth was different. His lips tilted into a soft smile, one that made her feel warm and safe, that hugged her gently, even from afar, and she could feel herself swaying towards the feeling, drunk from just a taste of it.

She'd missed him so much.

"Hi, Oddy," he whispered, still smiling, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning back on his heels.

"Hi, Tommy," she whispered back, pressing a hand against her aching cheek, glancing away as she grinned like a fool.

They just stood there, looking at each other before looking away, and Mette was genuinely embarrassed, her cheeks flushed as she thought of how silly it was of her to just throw herself at him, grateful that he had taken so easily to it, hugging her back, because that was Tom.

He, on the other hand, was trying to fight back a grin, figuring that this was a little game they were playing, the kind he used to play as kids when he'd try to hold the hand of the girl he liked when he and the rest of his cast mates were in the 'Billy Room' back when he did Billy Elliot, everyone giggling and pretending like they weren't interested when they were, too afraid to make the first move, but too bold to just sit and wait.

He was always more bold than afraid, however, and after half a minute of continuing to play, he yielded, taking the few steps over towards her, hugging her close. Not as hard or desperate, simply holding her because it had been so long since he had.

Mette always liked this about Tom. She had been confused at first, afraid that their characters' feelings were seeping into their own relationship, but she quickly learned that for all Tom called himself Spider-Man, he differentiated the scene from reality easily, never calling her by the wrong name and always fully himself.

He just liked hugging her. She had asked Harrison about it, but his responses were always vague, though she often found the two of them cuddling on the couch in his trailer when they forgot to close the blinds, so she figured that it was common for him to be so affectionate.

Nevertheless, she loved it. Not necessarily because it was him, though maybe it was. She simply loved the feeling of being around someone who made her happy. Of course, him being here didn't necessarily mean that she wouldn't sleep for seven hours straight right then and there if given the chance, but it filled her with a warmth that appeared when he did.

"How was your flight?" she asked, because there was nothing else to say, and he hummed, moving to toe off his shoes and climb onto her bed, closing her laptop and setting it aside.

"Was fun, I watched a bunch of films, but I had to take some medication to sleep, I was too excited to," he said, patting the side of the bed she usually slept on, inviting her on as if she wasn't the one who lived in the apartment.

"You're always too excited," she pointed out, practically falling onto the bed, tugging down her skirt as he it rode up, and she moved to sidle up next to him, watching as he searched around for her TV remote.

"But I was going to see you, it was more exciting than usual," he reasoned, and she paused, staring at him with wide eyes and he smiled, shrugging, "I'm really upset you're not filming Infinity War with us."

"We're doing our own thing once the two movies come out," she explained, because it was always fun to listen to their director's ideas that were so far fetched yet somehow all pulled together, "Take scenes unused and add onto them so the fans get more of the story. That is why this entire series exists."

Tom smiled, tilting his head at her. "Aren't you excited? You're the face of the start of it all."

She couldn't help but nod. "It's amazing. Very different, though. In Norway, there was more privacy, we did not have paparazzi and, of course, we had fans, but they were...different. Not better or worse, just different."

She couldn't tell him. She wouldn't tell him. He had too much on his plate to handle, what with all the tabloids and the rumors and the weight on his shoulders, he didn't need to worry about what his fans said about her, to her.

No one needed to know.

Tom put on a rerun of Law & Order, a show the two had been introduced to by Kris, and the two fell into a comfortable silence, Tom resting his head on her shoulder, beginning to doze off, and she panicked, nudging him awake for fear of both of them sleeping through the table reading.

"Set an alarm, please," he mumbled, handing her his phone, shifting onto his side, hugging her, tucking his chin onto her shoulder, "Night-night."

She snorted, giggling as she opened his phone, untucking one of his arms from him to take a picture of them, Tom whining, hiding his face even more, shaking his head, "Don't put that on my story..."

"I won't," she laughed, flipping to his alarm, pausing before she set it, "Do you want to get something to eat before the read?"

He made a pleased sound right by her ear, so she figured that was a yes, setting an alarm for an hour, giving them an hour to get food before heading over.

She set the phone aside, glancing towards his suitcase, only then realizing exactly what it meant that he had it with him: he hadn't gone to his hotel.

Her mind raced as she thought of why, knowing that he and Harrison always shared a room, as they liked to push the beds together to make an ultra bed, and Harrison had to be there as he was an important fixture in the show, which meant that Tom had just separated with him to come straight to her place.

At least, that's what she deduced.

"Tom," she said, nudging him, "Tommy, why did you bring your suitcase? Are you not staying with Harrison?"

"No, I am," he said, brows furrowing, probably upset she woke him up, shifting so he was even closer to her, and she began to wonder how normal this truly was for them, "But I thought I could spend the night, we can eat your ice cream and watch Brooklyn Nine-Nine."

She paused, thinking back to this time last year, the staying up far too late eating junk food and watching movies, running lines, doing anything, just having fun together, their emotions always more intense as the night wore on, Mette laughing at anything and everything, having to smother Tom with a pillow to make sure their neighbors didn't complain.

"Is that okay?" he asked, pulling away slightly, taking her silence as discomfort, lifting his head to check.

"Yeah," she said, turning away from the suitcase, giving him a smile to let him know that she was okay.

Shifting so she could face him, Tom moved back to his original position, his eyes shutting almost instantly as he pulled her close, and she could feel herself growing tired, her eyes growing heavy as she began to fall asleep.. But she wasn't so scared this time around; she had an alarm and she had Tom, they'd make it.

Even if it wasn't easy, they'd make it in the end.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

( 08.26.18 )

This went in a direction I wasn't expecting, but I loved this chapter, I mean...I felt like maybe it wasn't, like, in tune enough with Mette's emotions, but I had fun writing it, especially their dynamic, because Tom is such a hype man for her, you'll see later of how they used to be when they were filming Lonely Hearts, it's fun.

I was supposed to show them going out to the read through, then spending the night together, but I think this was just a better vibe, they're reunited, and there's call towards what happens next, I really liked this chapter, I'm very proud of it.