girl, interrupted

it's something she sees in herself, lacking that easy self-assuredness that seems to come so naturally to everyone else... unless, they're all faking it, too. her eyes fix on him, as if still deciding what to make of the man who introduced himself as marcus. "would you describe yourself patient?"

at her smooth avoidance, he glances up at her, as if he was one of her puppies that'd been forgotten to be fed. "whaaaaaaaaaat? not fair, that's not how this works!" loren likes to think he's an open book -- ask and you shall receive -- until he's forced to acknowledge his mistakes.

"no one with a snake and a guinea pig in the same flat has a boring secret. c'mon, what's the fun in keeping things to yourself?" turning back to the dogs, he talks to them about whether or not they want their mummy to spill the beans. "see? they also want to know." then, he begins to chant, "tell us, tell us, tell us."

she can’t help it—bright, unhibited laughter flows out of her, filling the room with a contagious, melodic sound. “oh, it’s not?” she asks, brows furrowing, laughing even harder once he starts listing off her different animals.

“see, these two already know all my secrets,” she muses, scratching behind moose’s ear. “they just happen to be very good at keeping them—being nonverbal and all. you?" she turns to the camera crew, "or them? i’m not so certain.”

maybe  if  it  hadn't  been  deemed  as  beneath  his  family's  name,  his  mother  rolling  her  eyes  at  his  whimsical  ideas  of  being  a  hollywood  star,  taesung  would  have  fit  the  bill  of  a  child  actor  gone  off  the  rails.  he  certainly  looked  the  part  right  now,  disheveled  clothing  and  drinks  at  his  side  all  while  having  a  camera-ready  face.  even  half-awake  and  eyes  shut  as  if  he's  ready  for  a  round  two,  the  voice  next  to  him  is  unmistakable,  protests made in jest  causing him  to shake  his  head.

"what  are  you  doing  up?  and  where  were  you  two  hours  ago  when  i  was  taking  shots?"  his  tone  is  only  teasingly  accusatory,  opening  his  eyes  behind  the  shades  sitting  somewhat  upright  for  the  sake  of  serra.  taesung  lifts  the  sunglasses  up,  sweeping  away  the  hair  that  had  been  settled  nicely  against  his  forehead  before  squinting  slightly  at  the  unwelcoming  brightness,  an  unhappy  reaction  saved  by  the  red  bull  now  sitting  beside  his  forgotten  drink.  maybe  if  it  hadn't  been  for  a  pick-me-up,  he  would  have  used  some  old  key  to  skewer  a  hole  into  the  side.  instead,  he  opts  to  chug  a  good  half  of  the  bottle,  sighing  in  relief  and  sitting  up  properly.  "you're  too  good  to  me.  i  should  tell  you  that  more  often."

with adrian gone more often since the season’s start, serra doesn’t mind nights like this—in fact, she loves them. it feels serendipitous, like one big family coming together, something serra's never really known but always dreamed of. she pauses, as if caught in that dream. “anyway, everyone starts getting hungry, and thank goodness my chef, michael, was still around, so he whips up a little spread for us.”

she takes another long sip, glancing over at him with a playful glow. “i tried to invite you,” she mimics his teasingly accusatory tone. “but, they’re gone now, and well, i figured the night wouldn’t feel complete without a nightcap with you." she admits with a genuine smile, "so, you don't have to tell me anything, just continue doing what you do, and being equally as good to me." the oak of the cabernet tingles her tongue, "tell me about your night."

for now, he's parked on serra's chaise lounge, patiently waiting while she's changing in the other room (later, when she's going over and editing the footage, she might catch him mouthing love you to the camera around the twenty-second mark). he doesn't try to peek this time, only opening his eyes when she tells him to, the look on his face a mixture of surprise and amusement as he takes in the entirety of her outfit.

"well, i think you nailed it, babe..." adrian chuckles, reaching out to hook his fingers in the belt loop of her jeans and tugging her closer, eyes shamelessly trained on her ass. "i mean, i like the jeans... not sure about the hat though." he catches her gaze with a grin, fingers now entwining with hers, "i'd probably give this outfit a solid... six out of ten."

when his fingers hook through her belt loop to pull her closer, she lets him hold her there, her slender fingers slipping into his with a gentle squeeze and a playful squint, reveling in the way his eyes trace over the curves of her body. “alright, let’s see if we can do better than a six out of ten,” she says, a grin filling her features as she alternates her gaze between him and the camera.

disappearing into the bedroom once again, serra eventually calls to adrian to close his eyes. the brunette reemerges in a fitted, button-down knit dress molded to her figure. there's an attempt at a twirl, but it’s more of a stumble as her foot catches the edge of the rug. steadying herself, she lets out a velvety laugh. “if you think you saw that, no you didn't,” she hums, smoothing her hair—a nervous tick more than a necessity.

“so, anyway, this is cult gaia,” serra runs a hand down the textured fabric. “i don’t normally wear brown, but even though i respectfully disagree, you guys keep telling me that pastels aren't fall colors.” she turns to adrian, her heart beating faster than she lets on. “what do you think?"

her eyes flutter away to keep a tear at bay, the sentiment stirring something deep inside of her. “a pleasure,” she says with a kind smile, slipping her hand into his for a gentle shake. “so, us, this gallery— is this a thread of destiny?" she asks, a subtle attempt to lighten the mood with a joke, mostly for her own sake.

sunglasses  are  perched  atop  taesung's  nose  as  he's  unknowingly  made  a  home  on  one  of  the  lounge's  couches.  they  were  too  comfortable,  not  like  the  typical  overly-priced  seating  areas  made  purely  for  aesthetics.  it's  dark  enough  for  him  to  know  it  isn't  morning,  so  he's  sure  he  hasn't  slept  through  the  night  despite  his  drink  on  the  table  beside  him  being  watered  down.  the  sound  of  shuffling  feet  and  quiet  conversation  among  the  room  is  enough  to  make  him  return  to  his  previous  posture,  sprawled  out  with  a  leg  hanging  off  the  cushion  rather  than  getting  up  and  seeking  out  his  own  bed  to  take  a  nap  on.  by  the  looks  of  it,  the  night  was  still  young  anyway.  taesung  can  hear  someone  approaching,  eyes  remaining  shut  and  hidden  behind  dark  shades.  "five  more  minutes,  thanks,"  he  says,  voice  still  raspy  from  his  apparent  power  nap.  "oh  shit,  wait.  could  you  get  me  a  red  bull?  think  i  need  to  shotgun  one."

once she enters the lounge, her pace slows. all sense of urgency melts into an amused smile when she spots taesung in the far corner, sprawled out on the couch, sunglasses and all. knowing him probably a little too well, she floats over to the bar to order a red bull for him and a cabernet sauvignon for herself before making her way over.

with a soft, melodic laugh, she nudges his legs aside, making just enough room to squeeze herself beside him. "five more minutes? but, tae, i'm here now." serra playfully protests, settling comfortably, as if the cramped space was intentional. taking a sip of her wine, she places the red bull down on the table in front of him, her gaze warm and her smile almost proud. "your wish is my command."

serra's gaze continues to linger on the piece, searching for words that match the resonance it evokes. "what about it do you find intriguing?" she muses, as if hoping that he might give voice to what she, herself, can't quite articulate.

after a pause, her focus returns to him, now aware of the additional cameras trained on their encounter just behind him. "i'm serra, by the way."

"feels  like  an  old  friend,"  she  returns  in  blazing  honesty.  years  of  media  training  tend  to  go  to  waste  on  people  like  lulu,  who  have  a  difficult  time  honing  their  emotions  so  that  they're  more  palatable  for  others.  it's  mostly  why  she's  been  regarded  as  a  moody  or  emo  artist  instead  of  plain  alternative.  there's  a  faint  grin  that  hinges  on  the  corner  of  her  mouth,  enjoying  the  feeling  of  being  seen.  it's  a  once  in  a  blue  moon  event  for  her.  "i  like  it,  yeah.  i  might  get  a  headache  if  i  look  at  it  for  too  long,  but  good  art  always  solicits  a  visceral  reaction  from  you.  well,  i  think  does."  there's  a  sheepishness  in  her  words  as  she  feels  her  cheeks  flush  pink.  "that  kind  of  sounds  prentious,  though."

her mind traces the twists of the wire in an infinite line. "it's... restless." she murmurs, "maybe that's what makes it feel like an old friend— caught between wanting to be seen, but also wanting to hide." her expression turns soft and contemplative, as the words settle within her like a self-revelation. "yeah... do you know somebody like that?"

"my dad used to say it's not about what you think but what you feel." cue: eye roll. yes, it was important she distinguished herself from her father, separating them as two separate entities. "but i think..." a knowing glance. she didn't want to sound too pretentious, but she didn't want to sound too simple. "someone should've stuck to balloon twisting." then, her eyes land on serra, even more aware of the camera lens pointing at them. "you? any particular thoughts?"

she looks back up to the twisted figures, momentarily drawn in once again. "i suppose it's trying to say something... meaningful," the nonchalance of her words feel foreign on her tongue. but it's not the only thing that feels foreign, there's an odd, quiet tension hidden beneath the niceties—a tension that seems to surface whenever she's near mook. "but, there's just some things," she starts softly, a touch of double meaning in her words, "i don't think i'm meant to understand."

"i take it, you don't spend much time here usually?" serra’s voice is kind but probing, curious as to whether the producers had orchestrated this meeting rather than it being some serendipitous encounter.

"oh look! there's another one!" he stares right into the lens of a camera, despite having been warned not to. "apparently they can't use the scenes if we look at them. quick, tell me your deepest darkest secret."

“my deepest, darkest secret?” she repeats with a wistful lilt, letting the words linger as she sifts through her catalog of secrets—little cursed treasures kept carefully buried away. “i’m afraid it would only disappoint,” she says with a laugh lighter than air, “secrets always sound better before they’re spoken.”

with a tiny flourish of her fingers, she looks at him, bright and curious. “but, puh-lease, don’t let that stop you from telling me yours.” she teases, her gaze drifting briefly to the camera, like a fleeting, unspoken dare.