Post by Shimizu Aki on Jan 28, 2015 8:50:03 GMT -5
It was, day after day, month after month, year after year, the same routine. Ordinary, mundane, uneventful. Whether it was in the midst of the freezing rains of November or the mild, yet painful hailing of January or the sweltering heat of August, film shootings occurred without fail. Granted the weather rarely proved to be an inconvenience—the blond could distinctly remember having to work under far more undesirable circumstances that the weather had little to do with. Hours under candlelight and torches in the midst of a blackout; or having to film inside a dank, spider-infested warehouse that had been abandoned for decades, whoa, there was nothing else he was gladder to consider a bad memory.
It seemed as if this episode would never be filmed and all of Japan would be lucky if they somehow managed to view it in the next decade. Aki expelled a sigh as soon as the director’s groan of dissatisfaction reached his ears for the millionth time that day. There had yet to be one scene that had run without interruptions; the complaints never halted and every new one drove a thorn deeper into Aki’s side. The lighting was off; the emotions weren’t quite there; the dialogue needed to be fine-tuned. And finally, mercifully, divine intervention appeared in the form the first drops of rain for the day as the overcast sky gave in with a bleak rumble. The young actor ducked expertly under the awning of a store just as the director reluctantly made a gesture and after a few colourful words, instructed the staff and actors to ‘take five’.
After waving a quick and temporary goodbye to one of his fellow actors—the one whose eyes he had been starting intently into for last few hours—before slipping out of sight as soon as possible. His manager was likely intent on watching him vigilantly meaning his moments of surveillance-free existence were precious little. Aki threw a furtive glance over his shoulder, almost bearing a resemblance to a criminal as he tread softly. Yamamoto was engaged in an amusing conversation (if his explosive laughter and booming knee-slapping were anything to judge from) and Aki seized the opportunity. He broke into a silent run, balancing himself on the tips of his shoes to minimise noise and dashed until the hustle and bustle of a filming died behind him. Only then did he grant himself the permission to walk in a manner that others might consider normal; with a rhythmic tap of his shoes against the cracked pavement and a quick splash as he stepped into the occasional puddle.
The smallest freedoms made his heart soar. Even his drenched locks barely bothered him.
His destination was a clandestine alley, tucked between two great skyscrapers and was almost entirely taken up by a particularly malodorous dumpster above which flies swarmed greedily. Not that Aki was perturbed by the sight, too trapped in the success of his escape to care about something like a lack of hygiene. As he leaned against the brick wall behind him (he could already hear Satsuki’s shriek of frustration at having to take his newly-ruined jeans and hooded sweater to be dry cleaned), he sighed in relief; excitement; a little bit of mockery at how he imagined his manager would be confused and enraged.
Perhaps he was too lost in his rare taste of freedom to realise his day was not ordinary, despite the filming and the bland lines and the incessant complaints of this new director. Only minutes away from him slumbered change—maybe danger—maybe something decidedly unordinary.
You learn something new every day.
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[ 605 // 12 // 12 ]
[ cr @ adelaide s'vilde for the title ]
