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"No,
you can't!" he screamed. "I can't say something like
that! How could I?"
"It's
sweet. It's romantic." The man gave him an encouraging wink.
"And the ladies will love it."
"But
I can't say such things!" he protested, and – for the
first time since he was just a lad – wished he could curl
up and sob. "Not with the past you gave me."
A
nonchalant shrug dismissed his argument. "I am the director.
You are my character. I can do whatever I want with
you."
"But I
can't–"
"Cut it
out! The final scene stays as it is!"
........"Watch
the skies. Every star that falls brings my heart back to you."
"Maybe
it's canon, but it is so uncharacteristic of you. I loathe
it."
His eyes widened. He
trembled somewhere between flight and approach. "You
wouldn't...?" he asked hesitatingly, fighting to keep the
tremor out of his voice.
Still,
it was noticed. "I'll never use such garbage for you."
Slender fingers, long accustomed to a keyboard, brushed a golden
strand of hair out of his face. "Promise."
He
sighed, releasing a tension that was built over fifteen years
ago. "Where were you when they invented Wolf Den?"
"In
school," she replied.
END |