ben baby hardy

It would have been okay if the job was better, if it felt worth it. You wanted so desperately to be vindicated in your choice to go but the work was kind of soul destroying. You were sure the actors were all lovely people, but the production was so big that you had barely spoken to them. You knew you’d been extraordinarily lucky with BoRhap, to have bonded the way you did, but you were still surprised with how little interest the cast took in you — you were effectively a glorified coffee girl. And because your job was mainly with the actors, you didn’t spend all that much time with the other crew members and didn’t bond with them either. Basically, you just felt horrifically lonely, which only reminded you how much you missed Ben.

A few weeks in you started to bond a little with some of the other girls in the crew. They were all junior, with you the most senior of the group, so it felt pretty safe. They were interested to hear about BoRhap, and what it had been like working with Rami and the boys. They seemed so starstruck just hearing you talk about him, you forgot that he was famous; to you he was just a wonderful friend.

“You know, I think he’s gonna win the Oscar,” said Tracy, a very sweet midwestern girl who always seemed like she was just excited to be alive.

“He definitely should, whether he will is another question,” Janie reasoned. She was a little older, and had the most experience but had never wanted to be anything more than a runner — she loved it, and her husband was some big-shot businessman so she didn’t need to worry about the peanuts she got paid.

“Do you reckon you’ll get to go?” asked Laura, an Irish girl and the youngest of the group.

You shook your head a little dejectedly, “No, probably not. I don’t see why they’d invite me.”

“That’s such a bummer! It sounds like you were really close with the guys,” Tracy said, genuinely put out for you.

“I still am. Well, mostly.” The thought of Ben left a bitter taste on your tongue. You hadn’t spoken to him since you got to the States.

Laura leaned in, “That sounds ominous. Go on.”

You sighed, “It’s not that dramatic really, I was dating one of them.”

“Not that dramatic?! That’s huge!” Laura shrieked.

Janie grinned, “Which one?”

“Ben,” you said slowly, tasting the word on your tongue again. It had been so long since you’d said his name out loud. “Ben Hardy, he played the drummer.”

“Oh my god he’s so gorgeous.” You could practically see the hearts in Tracy’s eyes and you chuckled.

“Wait, what do you mean, was?” Janie frowned.

“Be broke up, a few weeks ago actually, when I came to the States. I’m here for three years, we couldn’t commit to a long-distance relationship for that long.”

“Yikes, that sucks.”

Laura asked, “Was it not that serious then?”

“No, I think it was. We loved each other. But we’d done long distance before while I was doing a job, and it sucked. We hated being apart for so long and that was only a few months. I thought it was better just to get a clean break.”

“Ouch, I’m sorry gal.”

“Yeah, it’s rough but I think it’s for the best.” I think.

“You still love him, don’t you?” Janie queried gently.

You nodded, and then coughed, trying to dislodge the lump in your throat.

“Babe, you need to get over him!” Tracy laughed, quickly diffusing the solemn tension that clung to you.

“Ha, easier said than done,” you deadpanned.

“Nah, you just need to get under someone else.”

They set you up with one of Tracy’s friends in the city. The thought of going on a date with anyone other than Ben was a little nauseating, but before you really had a chance to say no it had all been arranged. Anyway, you thought you might as well — at least you could pass the evening with another human being. You never knew, it might be fun. What was there to lose?

You sat on your sofa waiting for your date to knock on the door, trying not to think back to the last time you’d been on a first date. Sure, it had been a little awkward with Ben at first, but it turned into a wonderful evening. But god, if it was awkward with Ben — a guy you knew well, fancied a ridiculous amount, and had already kissed — what kind of hell would it be with a man you didn’t know.

It won’t be that bad, just keep an open mind.

You reminded yourself of what Sav had said when you talked to her about it: there’s no pressure, it’s just a bit of fun.

The knock came at the door. He was a few minutes early. You took a deep breath, smoothed down your hair, and went to open it.

“Hi, you must be Y/N. Good to meet you, I’m Daniel.”

You were a little taken aback, but you smiled. He was better looking than the picture Tracy showed you had suggested. Tall, well dressed in a light blue button up and a jacket, with chocolately brown hair and eyes to match, adorned with flecks of hazel. His features were angular, a little sharp, but he had a kind look about him. You were suitably satisfied.

“Nice to meet you Daniel,” you smiled, hoping your face didn’t betray the internal struggle going on in your head over whether to shake his hand or go in for a hug. He solved that debate though by leaning in and placing a kiss on each cheek.

“That’s the European way, right? Two kisses? I wasn’t sure if it was three,” he joked, brimming with confidence.

“Three is French, we do two in England,” you playfully explained, pulling the door closed behind you. “You’ve clearly done your research.”

He grinned, “I wanted to make a good impression."

He took you out for dinner — classic, easy, not too much chance of something going disastrously wrong — to a Michelin starred restaurant. It was lovely, very upmarket, if a little soulless. You would have preferred somewhere a bit more artisan, somewhere with character and an interesting story behind it, but you weren’t complaining. The food was gorgeous and the company was good. Daniel was funny, he made you laugh often, and was a good conversationalist. Every time you feared you might be running out of things to say he asked you another interesting question to keep you on your toes.

It was fun, but it felt rather like meeting up with a friend. You were missing that elusive spark that people always talk about. But you weren’t going to dismiss him because of that, it wouldn’t always happen straight away. Just because it happened with Ben, didn’t mean it would be the same with the next guy.

Stop thinking about Ben.

“So, let me ask you, Y/N,” Daniel paused to take a sip of his wine, “How’s a beautiful woman like you still single?”

“What’s wrong with being single?” you simpered, mimicking his action and eying him over the rim of your glass.

“Nothing at all! I’m just surprised that no one’s snapped you up yet.”

“If someone’s interested in me doesn’t mean they just get to date me, I have to like them too,” you said as you cocked your eyebrow.

“Hm, yeah but you must get the cream of the crop after you. No one’s take your fancy yet?”

You pushed your mouth into a small smile and said, “I’ve only been in LA for a little over a month.”

“That’s plenty of time.”

For fuck’s sake, why is he pushing this so much? Maybe he could sense your reticence and that had piqued his interest. Maybe he wanted to be sure there was nothing wrong with you. Maybe he was just digging for your baggage.

Well he’s going to fucking get it then.

“I actually broke up with my boyfriend just before I came, so I’m keen not to rush into anything.”

You didn’t tell him how much you loved Ben, still, or that you hadn’t actually wanted to break up with him at all, or that you were still completely heartbroken about it. All Daniel needed to know was that you didn’t want a relationship with him. That this evening would lead to something else.

He nodded slowly and the look he gave you made clear that he understood you perfectly.

It was a perfectly enjoyable evening but by the end you were both very much aware that it wasn’t going anywhere. But still, he wouldn’t allow you to split the bill despite your insistence. He told it was ‘his treat’ and you understood fully that he was inviting you to reward him for his generosity. You ran your tongue over your lip. You didn’t owe him a thing, but you surveyed him none the less. He was a good-looking guy, you enjoyed his company, so when he offered to walk you home you allowed it. And when leaned in to kiss you at your front door, you let him. His lips were smaller than Ben’s, his mouth somehow more intrusive. It felt strange, wrong somehow. But you couldn’t allow yourself to think that Ben was the only man who could kiss you right, so you cast the thought from your mind and let your hands trail up to his neck. He took the opportunity to deepen the kiss and slipped his hands onto your hips. His touch was light, tentative, and you craved the intensity that you used to feel with Ben. One touch of his hand, gripping your hip with strong fingers, veins protruding deliciously, and you’d quiver beneath him. Daniel was... soft. Not in a bad way necessarily, you were sure some people loved that — you loved it when Ben was gentle with you. He’d caress your skin sometimes, leaving tender kisses all over your body; it made you shiver. You sighed at the memory, but felt Daniel smirk into your mouth, thinking it was him.

Stop thinking about Ben, you admonished.

You pulled away and looked at the man before you. His mouth was pulled into a small smile, leaning into you hopefully. He definitely wanted this. With a distinct tendency towards oh fuck it, you asked, “Would you like to come in?”

He grinned and followed you inside.

You didn’t even offer him a drink; you both knew what was happening. His mouth was on you again, kissing your neck, hands roaming. Green eyes, deep and rich with desire, flashed through your mind. You batted them away but were still surprised to see brown irises staring back at you when you opened your eyes. You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly arid.

“Shall we take this upstairs?” he hinted, his voice suddenly dropping an octave in an exaggeratedly sultry tone. He was clearly trying to be sexy but you had to bite your lip to stop yourself laughing, hoping you could pass it off as coy.

You nodded and lead him upstairs. He ripped his shirt off and began to make his way towards you. His hands quickly found your hips, then your bum, and he was behind you, reaching round to unbutton your jeans. His breath was hot on your neck, fanning you uncomfortably. You usually loved when you could feel Ben’s breath on your skin, making you tingle with anticipation; it meant his mouth was close.

Ben.

You almost moaned his name. Your whole body went tense and Daniel felt it instantly. His hands froze, fingers tucked slightly beneath your shirt, grazing your stomach. You fought the urge to slap them away.

I don’t want this.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I don’t want this.”

“Oh,” he faltered, clumsily retracting himself from you. “I’m sorry, I thought you did.”

The guilt tugged at you instantly, but you just didn’t want to sleep with him. You wanted Ben, and some other guy, no matter how attractive or charming, wasn’t going to change that. You ached for him in your soul, the kind of ache that a quick shag wouldn’t soothe.

“So did I, but I changed my mind. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lead you on.”

He was kind about it, he didn’t try to push you, despite the disappointment that was evident on his face. You offered him a drink, which he refused, and said he should get home. Your life became quiet again when he left. It was late, you needed to be up for work in a matter of hours, but your mind was reeling and your heart was racing. You made a cuppa and thought of Ben; the curve of his jaw, the crease of his mouth when he laughed, the glint in his eye when he was up to mischief. You thought of the way he made you smile just with a touch, and the way he always managed to calm you when you were stressed, talking you down or stroking your hair. The more you thought of him, the more you spiralled, crying softly into a pillow. You coughed and spluttered and agonised. You were desperate to call him, to hear his voice.

You cracked, clutching at your phone. Your fingers shook as much as your breathing as you called him, still the first number in your favourites.

“Y/N?”

Relief flooded you, instantly abating the tension in your muscles, soothing you. You released a shaky breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding.

“Hey Ben,” you whispered, barely able to keep your voice steady.

Ben instantly recognised that you’d been crying and dropped his voice to a gentle, warming tone. “What’s happened, love? Are you okay?”

You sniffed, “I’m fine, I just... I just miss you.”

You could practically hear him running a hand through his hair and you internally groaned, thinking about when you used to lose your fingers in those golden locks.

He sighed, distant through the phone line but in another way too, “I miss you too.”

“I wish you were here, holding me.” You didn’t bother trying to disguise the weakness in your voice or the bubble in your throat.

“I know, baby. It’s okay,” he purred as your crying intensified. “I’m here.”

“No you’re not.”

He fell silent. You knew it wasn’t fair of you to do this to him, you were the one who left.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “I shouldn’t have called you.”

“It’s okay, don’t—don’t hang up.”

He sounded so desperate it cracked your heart open and spilled the contents into your lap. You felt like you were going to be sick.

“H-how are you? How’s the job going?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that it was increasingly feeling like a huge mistake. “It’s okay. Taking a bit to settle in, it’s very different from what I’ve done before.”

“Are you happy?”

Then came your turn to bite your tongue. You ventured, “I’m fine.”

It stung, lying to him, especially when he could see right through you.

You chit chatted for a bit, telling him about the girls you had begun to make friends with, and he in turn relayed some of his training to you for his new film - you warmed at the thought of him learning parkour, picturing the frown between his eyes as he tried a move again and again until he got it right. You seemed to settle, nuzzling into the cushions and wrapping yourself in a blanket to feel some semblance of his embrace. It barely held a candle to him but with his gentle voice in your ear like the ocean waves on a dusky shore, you could make yourself believe he was with you.

“Uh, I think I should go,” he said far too soon.

“Right, sure.”

“Just... look after yourself, Y/N, okay?”

You hummed a yes.

“Promise me?” he said, his tone taking on a greater gravity.

“I promise, Benny.”

At work the next day you could tell the girls were disappointed that you didn’t have a juicy story to tell them about the previous night’s antics, and all relationship talk went conspicuously quiet after that. You plodded along in your work, without the motivation to go above and beyond for those around you. You felt yourself getting complacent, and resented all the effort you put in that went unnoticed. You hated that the director still didn’t know your name, you hated that the cast hadn’t bothered to say more than two words to you. You hated the eternal sunshine that mocked your misery, and the dumb supermarkets with thousands of kinds of health foods and none of your favourite comfort foods. You hated how lonely you felt, and hated thinking about everything you’d given up to be where you were.

“Well, you could come home darling?”

“I signed a contract, Savvy. Anyway, I can’t just come crawling back.”

“Jesus Christ Y/N, I know you’re stubborn but this is next level. I am not going to let you make yourself miserable for three years just because you’re too damn proud to admit you made a mistake.”

You felt small, meek, “I have a job to do, I can’t let everyone down.”

“By the sounds of it they can manage perfectly well without you.”

“Um, ow?”

“Well, they clearly aren’t valuing you the way they should, so as far as I’m concerned, they let you down.” She sighed, clearly worried she had been too hard on you. “You don’t owe them anything love. This is your life.”

“I just... I’m scared.”

Sav’s voice went soft, soft like the soothing tones of a mother. “Of what, babe?”

“I’m scared that Ben will be mad, or resent me for leaving. I’m scared that it’s too late and I’ve already lost the life I had.”

“It’s not too late. I bet he’s miserable without you.”

“God,” you scoffed, “You make it sound like we’re 15.”

She mumbled, “Well if you didn’t act so damn childish about it—”

“Anyway, I went for a reason, you know that. I promised myself I would put my career first!”

“And you did! You tried, you didn’t like it. There’s no shame in that. Now you know and you can come home without regrets. I will not allow you to throw three years of your life away — and the love of your life, for that matter.”

You ventured, voice weak, “What if he’s not?”

“What?”

“What if he’s not the love of my life. What if I go back to him and it falls apart, and I abandoned this job for nothing?”

“How are you even worried about that? Y/N, it’s obvious how much you adore him.”

“Well I thought I adored Matteo and look how that turned out.”

“This is different, Y/N, and you know it.”

“I was infatuated with Matteo-”

“Exactly!” she interrupted, “You were infatuated, it was a glorified crush.”

Ouch. That bit to the bone. “My job won’t up and leave me one day.”

“Nor will Ben! For fuck’s sake, have some faith in him. You love each other.”

You knew she was right — of course you did — but there was a gnawing in your gut that made you falter. Some residue of fear laced you like poison; your head told you to stick to your principles even while your heart bled for Ben. Usually you trusted your gut, which is why you were hesitant: something in the pit of your stomach told you that it wouldn’t be as easy as running right back into his arms.

“I promised myself I’d never choose a man over the job.” It was a weak excuse but you made it all the same, the last hurdle you needed Sav to help you overcome before you booked yourself a one-way flight back to London.

“Darling, it’s not about choosing between a man and the job, it’s this man. It’s Ben. You can’t throw that away.”

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