REMEMBER THE TIME

　　❛⠀ …⠀ ❜

　　𝓙𝐀𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐏 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌, trying to calm the nerves that threatened to overtake him. He rubbed his jaw, keeping his eyes planted firmly on the ground as though he was boring a hole into the centre of the earth. He could feel himself slipping away, slowly but surely. The routine he would usually do to remain present was now proving to be a struggle, because he had been trying to do it for at least ten minutes while he waited (impatiently) for his co-star’s arrival. Just him and him alone, wondering where the hell everything had gone wrong. It was unlike him to be so pessimistic.

　　He wasn’t mad, he was just… disappointed.

　　The fact was, this wasn’t the first time he’d done a chemistry test, nor was it the second, or the third. When Jaafar auditioned for his previous movie, he only had himself and his lines, and the array of emotions he could carry across. No need to play off another person when you only had yourself to rely on to really seal the deal. In saying that, it would be difficult if you actually depended on that person to get the momentum going on, but when that co-star who is supposed to be on-time for your chemistry read, is actually not here, then it really begins to fuck with your patience. Because Jaafar could be a very understanding guy, but he could not, for the life of him, understand this.

　　He held his jaw, ignoring the quivering of his lips. His dark, espresso eyes shot up from the ground to check outside the window, but when he didn’t see anyone coming down the hallway, he looked down again. Eyes squeezed shut, reciting the lines in his head as though it was a prayer. This could be fixed, right? Maybe they could reschedule, get another actress who could actually be early, maybe—

　　'Hi! Shit, I’m so sorry—!'

　　Jafaar flinched at the door slamming open, then proceeded to watch as a woman with soft-black hair came bounding through. She shrugged off her coat, simultaneously handing it to the person who just so happened to be nearest in vicinity. He tried his hardest not to let his expression twitch in annoyance, so he just breathed in through his nose and forced a tight smile.

　　'Traffic was crazy, you know how it is,' she explained, sweeping her long braids effortlessly over her shoulder. A small hand was extended to Jaafar in earnest. 'You must be Jaafar Jackson, it’s nice to finally meet you.'

　　He took a fraction of a second to evaluate her hand, then begrudgingly shook it, smile still frozen on his face. 'Likewise.'

　　'. . .Okay. Miss, glad you could join us.' The director spoke up, throwing an impatient look at the watch on his wrist. 'Now, I hope you two are ready to get started because we are falling behind on schedule.'

　　She looked up at him, pouting apologetically. Sorry, she mouthed. Without another word, Jaafar walked over to the front of the camera, quickly flicking through the script for a refresher on the scene they were about to perform while everyone else in the production team got ready. She followed close behind, peering over his arm.

　　'Do you have yours?' Jaafar asked, not bothering to turn around. He started to wonder if she even remembered her lines.

　　'No, I don’t need it, it’s all in here,' she tapped her temple, smirking. 　　 '. . .Right.'

　　He spun around to face her, taking in another deep breath through his nose, and out his mouth. This was his moment, he was going to do whatever it takes to perform the scene properly, even if it meant tolerating this woman in front of him. He closed his eyes, waiting for the cue to start.

　　'Action!'

　　When he opened them, he found her staring intently. Jaafar threw his hands up in front of his face, as though he was trying to shield himself from an invisible force.

　　'S-stay back!' he shouted, hunched in a defensive position. He was a husband trying to fend off his wife, who was in the midst of harbouring a demon inside her body. She had the first line read, though she remained unfazed, eyes still placed on Jaafar. A glimpse of confusion passed over his visage, but still, he did not dare break his character. He watched for a cue, then noticed her slowly squeezing her eyes shut, mouth parting of their own accord. Her lips curled back into a devilish smile, and a long, sickeningly sweet laugh bubbled out of her throat. She threw her head back, her whole body heaving up and down as though there was an entity trying to escape out of her very skin. Her head snapped back, wide, hazel-brown eyes locking onto Jaafar.

　　His jaw dropped, a genuine reaction that he hadn’t practised before. A momentarily lapse shifted his reality, and then he was thrust back into the audition room where he became keenly aware of her talents overtaking the space between them. He started to feel small in comparison, just like she had made him feel before even stepping into the room. Jaafar didn’t want to admit it, but he was getting out acted like he had never been in his life.

　　The production team couldn’t see what was going on inside his head. To them, they only witnessed the flurry of different emotions building up on his face much like a tether barely withholding him. As long as he could pretend that everything he was doing was on purpose, then it gave him enough leverage to keep going.

　　'Get away. . . don’t come near me. . .'

　　She carried herself forward, her strides short, sharp, and stilted in a way that reminded him of a zombie following its prey. 'My sweet, sweet boy,' she moaned, 'Why are you running away from me? Don’t you love me?'

　　Every time she moved closer to Jaafar, he moved back, forcing his body away like a fire he kept at bay to avoid getting burned. Teeth gritted in his mouth, he shook his head. The layer of vitriol that he’d been suppressing now oozed through every ounce of movement he made. He could control it, and that fact made him push harder.

　　'You’re not her,' he spat out, his eyes flashing with intense hate. 'I know you’re not, my real wife wouldn’t hurt me.'

　　She laughed again loudly, her soft voice taking on a higher pitch that he didn’t think was possible for her small frame. Jaafar clamped his hands over his ears, acting as though the sound was enough to cause him pain. He started yelling, taking all initiative to block her out.

　　'Shut up, shut up, shut up!! Give her back to me!!'

　　She immediately quietened, pouting in a similar way that she had done before the scene had started. 'Hey, why do you care what I do with her?' She asked, inches away from his trembling lips. Jaafar was suddenly aware of how close she was to him, enough so that he could feel her warm breath fanning over his face. Her piercing gaze held his, breaking once to glance at his lips, then back up again. He took a beat to come to his senses but his mind had gone blank. The tiniest bit of a smile played around her lips, was he imagining it? When she moved onto her next line, he realised he had missed his own.

　　Fuck. Jaafar buried his heels angrily into the ground as hard as he could, his ankles shaking from the force he applied through his feet. Was she doing this on purpose? He wanted to slap himself for forgetting a single, goddamn line. His mouth started to curl downwards, to which she grinned like she could read his thoughts and he had to steady himself again.

　　A childlike giggle escaped her. 'You don’t love her, you’ve never loved her.'

　　She punctuated each word with a toss of her head, shaking it from side to side. The movement caused her perfume to waft towards Jaafar, coiling around him almost maddeningly.

　　'And now she’s being tortured in Hell.'

　　The last words fell out of her lips in a whisper, then she exploded in a fit of maniacal laughter. She wrapped her arms around her torso as though she couldn’t keep herself still, and Jaafar could feel sweat settling in his palms. He was frozen in awe of the woman in front of him and he wondered what the production team were thinking now, watching them both. Her portrayal was practically lifted from the script, down to the very core of how she moved and spoke. She didn’t even need the practical affects or the makeup to nail it down. It was alive in her.

　　In comparison, he was a shuddering mess, pathetically trying to keep up with her. Jaafar’s brows furrowed over, a look of pure defeat migrating over his dark features.

　　'No. . . No. . .'

　　He pushed himself back from her as though her words were the final stake in his eventual coffin. He had one more line to go before his nightmare was over. Soft, sobs broke through, hitching up in his throat. Jaafar didn’t want it to end just yet, so he started to mull over his choices. He could go off script which was something he hadn’t done before and it felt so foreign even thinking about it now, but he only had one chance. He blinked back hot, angry tears from his eyes and summoned every last bit of effort he had stored in his body. All of his frustrations from before, and the pressure of everything else weighing upon him, before injecting it into a final, desperate act.

　　He crossed the distance between them and grabbed her shoulders in a tight grip, making her flinch violently in response. He could feel her breathing heavily, her body rising and falling in his hands. Jaafar gave her a rough shake. He was acting purely by choice now, discarding the line he was supposed to say, and rather, letting his body do what came naturally to him.

　　'I will find you again,' he promised. 'Even if it kills me, I’ll bring you back.'

　　She blinked at Jaafar, an unreadable expression flickering over her face for a split second. He stared deeply into her eyes, then slowly lowered one of his eyelids in a half-wink. A gesture that proved he was going to win, no matter what it took.

　　'. . . And cut!'

　　An immense wave of relief washed over Jaafar and he sighed, pulling himself away from his co-star.

　　'How was that?' he asked the director.

　　'Not bad, you took me by surprise at the end there,' the director said, clapping a hand firmly on his back. 'Nice work, kid.'

　　Jaafar nodded, but he needed to know more, understand if his approach was appropriate for his character or not. He began to shoot into another question, unaware that she was standing back and watching him with fascination.

　　'. . . Huh, that’s interesting,' she said quietly to herself, feeling her heart race. A silent wish was made in her head, unbeknown to everyone in the room: I hope I get to meet him again.