Happy Place || A Jerrie Fanfiction

VII - SHE MUST BE

I was told to be one of the top ten laziest actors/actresses in Times magazine, and Jesy would oftentimes go anonymous in social media and attempt to rebuke, making sure that I at least get some good feedback. Then I'd tell her to stop acting like an overprotective mother, and she'd tell me that if she doesn't act like one then who will, then I'd tell her my actual mother will, then I'd cry all of a sudden because my actual mother is long gone, then she'd comfort me, and then go back to being mother's replacement and resume her anonymous comments about me.

The sole reason why I am telling you this is so you won't be surprised when I tell you that the whole morning today, I was just in bed watching reruns of Friends in my laptop instead of going through my lines in the script for Loving You.

At twelve in the afternoon, I decided to work out before eating lunch. And so I changed into my workout outfit - just some leggings and a sports bra - before going to the twelfth floor where the hotel gym is situated in.

"Good afternoon, Miss Thirlwall," one of the coaches greeted me with a smile. And I tried my best to smile back, in spite of the fact that I have finally been recognized and the fact that he insisted on a taking a picture, too, much to my dismay.

When he left, I promptly went to the far right corner of the room, where the treadmills are, then hopped on one after placing my things on the floor beside it.

In the span of five minutes, four people already recognized me, once again much to my chagrin. And one of them even had the audacity to give me their number - as if they're trying to stay in touch with me. And I successfully resisted the earth-shattering urge to reject them straight in the face.

I jogged on the treadmill for thirty minutes, until another fan interrupted for another mere picture with me. And I took that as a cue to finally rest.

"Can I ask you something?" the gothic teenager that took a picture with me a second ago questioned, burying her phone back in one of the pockets of her jeans before looking back up at me with admiration that before I would have found adorable.

I wanted to tell her: No, you may not. But instead, for the sake of my career, I say - with a hopefully-not-fake smile, "Yes, of course, darling."

And as I said that, I prayed that it isn't a stupid question; I prayed that whatever it is, it isn't a question about my love life, or my privacy or anything related to Steve Harrington.

"What's your favorite food?"

Thank you, Jesus.

"Lasagne, sweetie," I answered, looking around and taking note that there are others in the room who stopped whatever they were doing probably to get closer to me.

"Oh, okay," the girl - name's Jane, I think - said. "If ever there's a meet-and-greet, I'll make sure to get you one."

My smile cannot hold out any longer, so I resort to a tight-lipped one. "Thank you, sweetie. But I really have to go."

Then I hurried off, jostling my way out of this suffocating ocean which are the people, not really caring if they find me impolite, until finally, I have reached the comforts of the elevator all alone and without anyone to bother me anymore.

"Christ," I whispered breathlessly, resting my side on the wooden panel of the elevator, heaving deep breaths here and there. "Just when I thought everything's okay now."

XXX

"Well, what did you expect?" I hear munching on the other line and could only imagine Jesy devouring a Musketeers bar. She was still chewing even when she speaks, "To live peacefully now that you're in a place that isn't called L.A.? To eat peacefully - to jog peacefully? You're Jade Thirlwall - the dream woman of every man and woman. You, my dear, Satanic friend, you cannot live peacefully. You signed up for this, you live with this."