𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲

Fourteen | Hair

Y/N

I ENVY ACTORS on only a few occasions. The first is during awards season where they wear extravagant outfits by esteemed designers. The second is the fact that they get put up in swanky hotels whenever we film. And the third is right now, the fact that I've been awake since four in the morning working relentlessly whilst Tom has only just gotten out of bed and stumbled into a makeup chair.

It's currently 10:17 in the morning.
His call time was at ten.

Alexander Skarsgard's call time was also at ten in the morning yet he woke up earlier, helped himself to some cereal and was in the makeup chair by 9:58am. He laughed as Tom walked into the 'makeup room' as he left, which was the repurposed living room. Tom came in with a nearly overflowing bowl of cereal in one hand and a warm cup of tea in the other.

His hair was a mess, he was in a pair of soccer shorts and a t-shirt and he was already telling his makeup artist Rachel about a 'wacky ass' dream he had the night before.

"Seriously Rach, picture me in a really nice tux right? And I'm riding a dolphin down the English Channel because I was late to Harry's wedding. Like, there aren't even dolphins in the fucking channel so like, why wouldn't I just fly to France instead of riding some big wet fish thing?" He rambled, making me smile to myself as I sat on the couch behind them on my laptop.

"Dolphins aren't fish Tom," Rachel said quietly as she raked a comb through his tangled hair and tousled it in the mirror.

"Yeah I know that, but like, what does a dream like that even mean?" He said leaning forward to eat a spoonful of cereal which frustrated his hair stylist with all of his movement.

"I have no clue. Wait, Harry isn't engaged is he?" She asked holding his head straight in the mirror.

"God no, that kid is perpetually single," he said with his mouth full, leaning forward yet again to scoop some of the remaining pieces of cereal up with his spoon.

"Geez Tom, just hold the bowl to your bloody mouth instead of leaning forward every time!" Rachel laughed, watching him slurp from the bowl with a few drips of milk running down his chin.

"Is this attractive? I feel like I look really attractive right now," he joked, spinning around in his chair to face me as I looked at him through the mirror.

"I think if you had more milk on your face, you'd be more attractive. Actually, make a milk moustache and you'll have women dropping around you like flies," I chuckled, closing my laptop screen and reaching to the side table for my coffee.

For all intents and purposes, the makeup room that we had set up in the living room, still functioned as a living room for when the crew needed to take breaks. That's why I'm in here.

Rachel grabbed his chair and spun him back to face the mirror, commenting under her breath that he was 'such a child' and that she wishes she had a straight jacket for him to wear.

"Are you typing your mystery thing again?" Tom said looking back at me via the mirror.

"It's not all that much of a mystery, it's just for fun. And like practice," I shrugged.

"What are you always writing then?" He said cocking his head to the side before it was promptly being positioned back to the middle by Rachel.

"I just re-write existing films. Like, if I like the plot and the characters and everything but I think the script let the movie down, I'll watch it and try and write it in my own style. I'm not creative enough to write my own stuff yet," I said shaking my head.

"So which horrible film are you completely ripping to shreds, gutting completely and then stitching back up?" He said carefully picking up his tea and bringing it to his mouth to softly blow on it.

"Nothing special, it's just me practicing writing Tom. I just do it in my spare time. I've re-written about a dozen of films that I just keep in one big folder. A few weeks ago I finished re-doing The Dark Knight Rises after about six weeks of dissecting it," I smiled.

It's not anyone else's idea of fun but it's really helped me develop my writing style with different genres. I've tried devising my own plots but they always seem to have plot holes or continuity errors. So, I take an exisiting plot and modify it.

Next I think I'll try writing scripts for exisiting books. At least the plot is already finished for me and I just have to adapt it. It's not the type of writing I was to do as a career, but adaptations often make great films.

"Okay, but which one have you picked this time?" He said sipping gently.

"Uh... Cherry," I mumbled.

"Wow Y/N, way to go shit all over my career first thing in the morning," he whined.

"It's nothing to do with you, your acting was great. I just think the lacklustre script let the movie down... And maybe the directing also kind of felt like it was trying a bit too hard to replicate other filmmakers styles but I still liked it," I rambled, trying to cover myself.

"Fuck you too," Tom laughed, glaring at me though his fringe which was pushed into his eyes briefly as his hair stylist ran gel through it.

I shook my head laughing before standing up off the couch, stretching my back and sighing before heading back towards the pool area where we were shooting today. As I left the room however, none other than our co-star Anya Taylor-Joy walked in with her own hair stylist to start her getting ready process.

I knew she was filming her first scene today but I didn't expect her to be here so early. I watched for Tom's reaction meeting her properly face to face considering they had been talking online for a few days.

And he looked like a kid at Christmas; his eyes lit up when he saw her.