Chapter Text
Wylan sat huddled on a beach chair, a steaming cup of coffee slowly warming his freezing hands. He let out a breath, and it materialized before him in the cold, mixing with the steam rising from his beverage. Everyone was still arriving to today’s set. Grips, camera operators, gaffers and technicians gathered in clumps and complained about morning shoots at a low volume, fatigue dragging their voices down. The crew’s laments, the various department’s directors’ orders, the waves lapping up against the shore in slow movements, the crunch of sand beneath boots; it all became a hum around Wylan, coaxing his eyelids into slowly dropping.
The beach they were using for today’s shoot was an hour and a half away from Manhattan, and Bill had wanted everyone to arrive ridiculously early so they could film the movie’s final shots during the sunrise, after an epic fight sequence that ends tragically on the beach between Jesper’s character, Lukas, and his ex-lover, who’d turned into a demonic vampire-like creature. Between staying up very late the previous evening to finish some schoolwork, and waking up at an absurd time to take a taxi to set this morning, Wylan had barely gotten an hour of sleep. He wanted nothing more than to curl up on the beach chair and sleep through the entire shoot.
He shook his head and took another sip of his coffee to banish this wish for sleep from his mind and body. These days, however, it felt like the fatigue was settled so deeply in his bone marrow, nothing could rid him of it.
Wylan looked out at the scene before him; the deep purple sky that lightened as dawn approached and the sun slowly rounded the corner, the foamy whitecaps scattered across the water, the waves rushing towards the shore and lying down to die on the wet sand. The sight was so beautiful, Wylan couldn’t resist pulling out his sketchbook and a pencil from the satchel that sat patiently next to his chair.
He’d gotten back into drawing only recently, although he sparsely had time to indulge in it. It was something he’d always loved doing, and it had helped him calm down when his worries felt too suffocating. He remembered those nights he’d hidden huddled in a corner of his room, sketching feverishly, trying to expel all the thoughts of failure and his father’s disapproving comments from his mind.
His eyes darted between the ocean and his paper, his pencil flying across the sheet as it recreated the waves, the sky, the sand, the—
“What’s that?” Jesper’s voice startled him, causing Wylan to whip his head around and snap his sketchbook shut.
“Nothing,” he replied too quickly. It was none of his business.
“Are you drawing me?” Jesper leaned forward, batting his eyelashes.
Wylan scowled and looked back at the water. “I have better things to do with my time.”
“I highly doubt that.”
Jesper walked around the chair and sat next to him, then extended his hand, waiting for Wylan to give him the sketchbook. Reluctantly, he placed it in his hand, already expecting the harsh sound of Jesper’s laughter when he’d see his mediocre drawings.
Instead, Jesper said, “You drew this?”
Wylan nodded. He risked looking at Jesper to assess his reaction as he flipped through the various drawings Wylan had done since he had bought the sketchbook the previous year. He could understand why so many girls swooned over him; defined jawline, perfectly shaped lips, stunning eyes.
Not that it meant anything to Wylan.
“Hm,” Jesper mumbled. “This is pretty good, Van Eck.” He deposited the sketchbook back onto Wylan’s lap. “I could probably do better, though.”
Without helping it, a laugh burst out of Wylan’s mouth. “Really?”
Jesper shot him a look, faking offense, but Wylan could see the corner of his lips twitch as he held back a smile. “You don’t believe me?”
“You don’t strike me as the type of person who would be patient enough to spend hours on one drawing,” Wylan replied carefully. “But maybe I’m wrong.”
“You’re assuming I would need hours to do one drawing. I work quickly and efficiently, you know.”
“But is it the same quality of work?”
“Of course. Have you seen the way I function on set? Quick and efficient.” He winked.
Admittedly, Jesper did have a good work method, but Wylan wasn’t going to tell him that.
Instead of replying, Wylan opened his sketchbook again and continued drawing, uncomfortably aware of Jesper observing him.
After a while, Bill joined them. He was wearing a heavy sweater that might have been overkill if they’d been shooting in the city, but was appropriate armor against the beach’s merciless winds. The director spoke to Jesper for a bit, starting with small talk about the weather before discussing the day’s schedule, confirming with his actor that everything was ready. He then turned to Wylan and asked him about how he was holding up with his studies. Wylan couldn’t help but be amazed at how Bill was arguably the busiest man on set, yet he still found the time to talk to his cast and crew and to truly know them, instead of treating them only as coworkers.
“You got a class this afternoon, Wylan?” The director asked politely.
“Yes,” Wylan started, then hesitated for a moment. “I have class, but I don’t know how I’m going to get back to campus. You see, I took a taxi to get here, and—“
Bill nodded, understanding. “You don’t have a ride back.”
“Yes. I mean, no, I don’t have a ride back,” he replied nervously. He didn’t want Bill to think he was being rude, but he truly did need a way to get back to school.
The older man shot him a reassuring smile, the kind of smile Wylan wished his father would have given him when he would skim his knee at the playground or have a bad day at school as a child. “That’s fine. I personally can’t give you a ride, but I’m sure Jesper would be willing to drive you back.” He clapped his hand against the actor’s back as he said it, and Jesper looked up, startled out of whatever reverie he’d been deeply lost in after losing interest in the conversation the moment it had shifted to Wylan.
“What?” Jesper’s eyes darted between Wylan and Bill. “Why me?” He lamented.
“Because you’re the person nearest to me right now. Just give him a ride this once, will you?”
Jesper gave a melodramatic sigh that was more worthy of an Oscar than any of the performances he had given these past two weeks. “Fine. But,” he warned, jamming a finger at Wylan’s chest, “you better be ready to leave the moment we’re done here.”
Wylan swatted the finger away, annoyance tugging at him. “I won’t be late.”
***
Wylan, as usual, was punctual, yet when he arrived to the beach’s parking lot, Jesper was waiting for him, complaining that Wylan had taken too long.
Jesper leaned his lanky body against his shiny sports car, twirling the keys around his finger. The car was exactly what Wylan had expected it to be: obnoxious, bright red, and definitely expensive.
Jesper nodded his head toward the passenger seat. “Alright, get in.”
Wylan climbed into the car, then tapped his fingers nervously against his thigh as he waited for Jesper to start driving. When Jesper turned the key into the ignition, the sound of the engine roaring to life startled Wylan; it sounded like Jesper had trapped a hundred angry lions under the hood of his car.
Wylan couldn’t help but notice that the car perfectly fit its owner.
The moment Jesper started driving, Wylan wondered if maybe walking back to the city would have been a safer and wiser option; Jesper drove in such a reckless manner, Wylan wondered if he’d even taken driving lessons. As he speeded forward, completely ignoring the speed limit, he reached across Wylan to fetch a pack of gum from his glove box, fiddled with the car radio until it landed on a station playing a song he liked, and drummed his fingers along the steering wheel as he bobbed his head along with the music.
He asked Wylan if he knew the song, but all he could do was nod, because he was scared that he’d throw up if he opened his mouth to answer. Jesper must have noticed the way Wylan’s knuckles grew white from his grip on the centre console, or the greenish tint to his face, or the panicked look in his eyes, because he took one look at him and asked, “Am I driving too fast?”
“A little,” Wylan managed to squeak out.
Jesper slightly relaxed his foot from the gas pedal, and Wylan felt himself relax as well.
When he was sure he could speak without vomiting all over Jesper’s dashboard, Wylan said, “I’m surprised you don’t have a personal driver that drives you around.”
Jesper snorted. “I prefer driving my own car, thank you. I’m surprised you don’t have a personal driver. Your daddy didn’t have space in his budget to get you one?” He taunted.
Wylan didn’t think that warranted a response. He’d met plenty of people like Jesper, people who thought they knew everything about Wylan just because they knew a minimum of information about who his father was.
“So,” Jesper started, obviously unable to stand silence for more than a few seconds. “How’s Christensen?”
“It’s…” Wylan tried to think of an adjective that could describe his studies, but came up empty. “Fine,” he said lamely.
“Just fine?”
“It’s a lot of work. A lot of stress.”
“But you enjoy it?”
“Sure.” Wylan shrugged. “I just think I’d enjoy it more if the workload wasn’t as heavy. And with the added pressure of the internship…”
“Hmm. I understand it must be difficult for you to have to work for something for once in your life,” Jesper said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Wylan’s jaw dropped. “I know you think you have me all figured out, but you should stop assuming you know everything about me when you don’t. Just because my father is—“
“One of the richest men in the industry?” Jesper offered lazily.
“You’re so arrogant!” Wylan exclaimed, exasperated.
Jesper burst out laughing. “God, you’re so easy to provoke. You need to relax, Van Eck. Look at how red you are.” He spared Wylan another glance and giggled again, looking way too proud of himself.
“Are you unable to be pleasant for more than a few seconds at a time?” Wylan snapped.
Jesper shook his head, and reached to turn up the music. The sound of the pop song filled the car again. Wylan folded his arms and looked outside, pretending to take a sudden interest in the way the raindrops raced down the car window. He would have been content to spend the rest of the trip like this, but Jesper broke their tense silence only a few minutes later.
“Do you get along with your father?”
“Do you have a problem with silence?” Wylan replied without missing a beat.
“Yes,” Jesper said, then looked at Wylan. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Wylan sighed, wondering how much time was left until they got to his building. “I… it’s complicated. And will you please keep your eyes on the road?”
Jesper’s gaze drifted back to the front. “Is that why you’re so offended when I mention him?”
“No, I’m offended because you’re annoying.” He looked down and picked at his nails. “And there are other things that are interesting about me besides being his son.”
“I’m sure.” He then added, “I have a complicated relationship with my father too, you know.”
This caught Wylan’s interest. “Really?”
“Yep. I haven’t talked to him in almost two years.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Two years? What happened?”
“He was my manager when I was on Family Friendly, and well… actual familial relationships don’t mix well with professional relationships. Especially not in this industry.”
His tone was easy and he was smiling slightly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Wylan suspected this wasn’t a subject he was comfortable talking about. “I think I know something about that,” he replied finally.
“Hey, maybe we have more in common than we thought,” Jesper said lightly.
A smile tugged at his own lips. “Maybe we do.”
***
“I’m here,” Wylan said when the car approached his dorm building an hour later. The facade was made of plain brown bricks, its exterior as depressing and dull as its interior. Jesper rolled his car to a stop.
Wylan’s hand hovered above the interior door handle. “Um… thank you for the ride.”
“It was my pleasure.” He winked. Wylan cleared his throat, gave him a small smile and stepped out of the car. He was about to swing the door closed when the actor said something else. He poked his head back inside. “You know, if you ever need another ride…” Jesper’s sentence trailed off, his offer hanging in the air. His fingers danced up and down the steering wheel, but his grey eyes were on Wylan.
“Thank you,” he replied, somewhat surprised by his offer. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
He bid Jesper farewell again and finally shut the door. He stood on the sidewalk for a few more moments and watched the car speed away from him, the red vehicle turning into a red blot in the distance, then disappearing.