heard your name in every love song {Ben Hardy}

6. if you were church i'd get on my knees

Getting up at the crack of dawn almost every day for training always leaves you feeling like a ball of aching muscles and sweat. You warm up and cool down properly, of course, but it's more strenuous than you've ever consistently exercised before. After your general strength training, you spend a few hours with the fight coordinator, Walter Garcia, learning how to get thrown around without too many bruises. You, Ben, and Kodi, as well as your respective stunt doubles had affectionately nicknamed these lessons Fight Club, and as fun as it is, all three leave with bruises despite your best efforts.

And yet you still manage to make it to scene rehearsals after, and put your all into it.

Alexandra becomes a friend and a confidant, and probably the only reason you're not actively burning out, apart from Ben. It seems like you're never alone when you eat, with one or the other, unless you're with both, or the Horsemen and Apocalypse decide to hit the town together. It's chaotic, but it's a chance to unwind and relax. You're becoming a unit, as formidable off-screen as on.

Whenever you reach out, there always seem to be someone reaching back for you, a hand to stabilise you, to make sure you don't fall, a hand on your shoulder to remind you you're doing a good job, a hand on your waist – Ben's hand on your waist, in a club, playing romance with no cameras around. It's just to build chemistry, you tell yourself, as his touch sets your soul on fire.

There's something in his eyes when he watches you in rehearsals, something you can't quite identify.

You pretend to snap a guy's neck, and when you look up, for a split second you catch him looking at you like it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. You want so desperately to not get your hopes up, to convince yourself that he's doing it for the film, but there's something there, you know it.

Well there was something there.

Then you had to let it slip.

"Y/N," Ben's dressed like he's just been somewhere, though you're not sure where, looking all kinds of good in skinny jeans and a leather jacket. He greets you with a smile as you're walking from Alexandra's room to your own, wearing pyjamas; you, Alexandra, Sophia, and Lana had been having a self care night, which included wine and facemasks, but it had wound down almost an hour ago, and you and Alexandra had just been running lines together before you called it a night.

"What's up?" You give pause by his door, leaning on the doorframe as he lets himself in and sits on the bed, pulling his shoes off. He seems at least tipsy, judging by how he's fumbling with the laces, which matched your buzzed state rather nicely.

"Nothing," he shrugged, but didn't seem inclined to ask you to leave.

"Nice night?" Leaning against his open doorframe, you wear a slight smile. Ben's honest and tipsy smile was easily one of your favourite sights in the world, and the way it was lighting up the room at present made your heart grow warm.

"Fantastic night; McAvoy is a absolute tank," he told you easily, and with such sincerity it was almost funny, "that little Scottish bastard could drink me under the table if he had half a mind to, and I don't say that lightly."

"I bet you don't," you find yourself amused by his antics, and Ben stops with one shoe off to regard you curiously.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything," you respond, hoping you mean it. He licked his lips; you stepped forward and closed the door softly behind you.

"How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Training. Fighting. Acting." He said, and reached down to pull off his second shoe easily. He doesn't break eye contact. "I feel like I'm constantly in over my head, and I've been doing this for years now."