Chapter Text
Sapnap has got so much on his plate as it is. Too much on his plate as it is.
He doesn't even know how he got chosen because surely there are other young, talented, and willing authors/screenwriters out there. Sapnap knows he's talented (or maybe it's just his ego and pride talking), but talented enough to be selected to co-write a movie script? Those things take time, effort, planning, social skills, and you have to make sure the actors are good with the lines, which from experience, some are not good with anything.
Speaking of actors, Sapnap doesn't even know who the actors are. His Creative Writing teacher barely gave any context and just squealed in excitement, like she was the one who got the job and gets to meet all these "hotshot" actors tomorrow.
He was only informed yesterday.
Seriously, who do these rich and famous assholes think they are? He grumpily thinks, spread out in a starfish pose on his bed. He's a little pissed, but more annoyed and inconvenienced than anything. He wanted to turn it down— Seriously, he has to study his ass off for his stupid history exam that he can't afford to fail— But who in the right mind can say no to money?
Plus, his teacher had pretty much already said yes for him. Nothing he can do about it— His awkwardness and anxiety hinder him and aren't planning to leave him alone anytime soon. The stressed and overworked college student can only sleep it off as he prays for the first time that a Saturday won't come.
Saturday does come though, and he isn't really surprised that his prayers didn't reach God. Or maybe they did and God just thinks that this is payment for all my sins. Sapnap muses, hopping around on one foot as he ties his low-top sneakers with his leg uncomfortably raised. Wearing just a black hoodie is fine, right? He self-consciously looks down at his slightly oversized hoodie, imagining all those actors wearing fancy stuff while he's just wearing a thrift store hoodie.
But then again, clothes are just clothes. He tightens the white headband that he never takes off (except when he's taking a shower) and picks at his black leggings. It doesn't matter— At least that's what he tells himself. Sapnap grabs all his drafts and ideas for the movie, all written on paper with a pink glitter pen, and swings open his dorm door which is a slightly darker cream colour than his walls.
He hesitates, because he really doesn't want to go, and maybe his heart is beating a little too fast, and maybe he might have a panic attack when he gets there—
This is what Killua would want me to do, He takes a deep breath, This is what main characters would do. And out he steps, walking down the halls with all his paper drafts and ideas in hand— All of them are horror, mystery, and action— finally getting out to the sunny outdoors of the world, free from his gloomy and dark dorm.
(A little strange how he hyped himself up by saying that his favourite anime character would want him to do this, but whatever.)
Today's going to be a day.
When Sapnap arrives on the film set, it's around 1PM. The set looks similar to all the other sets he's been on, but there's this thing about this particular set that he just can't place— It feels... Well, different, in a weird way. He can't place it and that bothers him, so he thinks extra hard. It looks the same but the whole atmosphere feels different. Tense, maybe? Ah, no, not tense. Everyone seems weirdly at ease right now, it's just—
"Hey! Sapan, right?" A voice says his name wrong a little too loudly, startling Sapnap (not Sapan) a bit, but he doesn't flinch, just grips his papers tighter. "You're co-writing this whole thing with the GeorgeNotFound, huh? He's a famous guy— Lucky you, lucky you!" The loud stranger hits him on the back a little too hard before letting out a laugh like those fake Santas do at the mall and walking away.
Lucky me? Lucky him. Sapnap's "mind voice" scoffs because even if he doesn't know the guy, Sapnap already knows he's better than him. He's automatically better than anyone named "George".
Does that sound haughty? Maybe, but I'm just being honest. He assures himself when his name is literally "Sapnap". That's when a tall woman with a camera around her neck walks right up to him gradually, giving Sapnap a mini heart attack.
"Hello darling, be a doll and follow me, 'kay? I'm going to introduce you to your new partner, GeorgeNotFound! I'm sure you know who he is already, so try to contain your excitement." She purrs with a slight accent that kinda sounds like she's faking it. Sapnap decides not to say he doesn't know the Oh So Mighty GeorgeNotFound because it seems everyone knows him— He doesn't want to be accused of being a liar— Might as well just roll with it.
The woman who calls herself "Ms. Madeline of The West" for who knows why leads Sapnap to a big room with a big table and two seats on opposite sides, the one farthest away from the door being occupied by what only can be GeorgeNotFound, who's staring at his open laptop and typing away. This is definitely not what he expected— I mean, he's always going solo so he can't really assume anything about partnership— but still, this seems a little.. Intimidating. You know, with the velvet walls, bookshelves, and the huge table.
Like they're going to kill me. Sapnap jokes with himself but quickly finds that it wasn't funny because Oh god, what if they're going to kill me?
Ms. Madeline of The West sits Sapnap down, ruffling his raven black hair, before leaving. Just like that. Sapnap swears he begged her with his blue eyes for her to stay so it's either she's a sadist, or Sapnap needs to work on showing his emotions. It's probably the latter, but the former doesn't sound too off.
The silence is tense and little 'ol Georgie over here isn't going to break it.
Too bad for him that Sapnap's secretly the most over-competitive moron in the world.
So they sit in the unwavering silence, other than a few click-clacks from George's laptop and the quiet ruffles from Sapnap's papers.
After a minute, Sapnap puts his papers down on the table and stands up. The other still doesn't take his eyes off his laptop and continues typing. What a dick. He picks up a hardcover book from the bookshelf and sits down quietly.
Then he drops the book on the wooden table.
This got a reaction out of the jerk— A flinch. It's not much of a flinch, but it's enough to say that Sapnap had won. The guy slams his laptop shut and Sapnap can finally look at his face.
Brown hair with clout goggles resting on them, kinda, because they're also on his forehead in a way. His eyes are this dark brown and he can just see the annoyance in them. Maybe that makes Sapnap smugger. What doesn't make Sapnap smugger is that Fuck, he is attractive. And maybe that makes Sapnap a little pissed.
"You're petty." The brunette points out, a blank expression on his face.
Sapnap so wants to punch this guy so it'll ruin his unfair face— He really does, seriously, but then again, people idolize this guy while Sapnap's friend count is around 0. He knows better than to make enemies with a rich and attractive male. So instead, he says with his most blank and emotionless face:
"No, I'm Sapnap. It's a pleasure to meet you, GeorgeNotFound."
Sapnap bows his head a little in mock submission (like he'd actually submit to a guy named George). Okay, maybe you're being too petty right now. His rational side tells him, and okay, maybe he is. Maybe he's getting too excited to finally stop being the "quiet kid on campus" and just be a smartass to some rich jerk. Maybe the guy really was busy doing something. Maybe he wasn't ignoring him on purpose—
"Alright Sapnap, we're doing my idea, okay? I'll say you helped and everything, so just sit there and be quiet." George spits his name out like venom. Sapnap knew it— His intuition is always right— This guy's a fucking dick. Sapnap digs his nails into his leg, he knew today was going to be one of those days.
"What?" And maybe he should've said something other than "What" because it kinda sounds stupid (he's not stupid), but that's all that can leave his mouth right now. Everything else is holding back all the swear words he wants to scream— He always feels like this during school, so he can hold back pretty well, but God, maybe it's just how attractive the guy is.
The actor-screenwriter didn't even look at him as he responded, just opening his laptop again. "We're. Doing. My. Idea. The genre is gonna be romance—"
"Romance?" Sapnap interjects on impulse because romantic anything is just the absolute worst. They're always so cliché and bad.
"Yes, romance. All the movies I do are romantic ones. You don't get a say because you won't even be acting in it, so keep quiet with your mediocre at best writing skills." It rolls off George's tongue so naturally that Sapnap can't help but think that he does this to all of the screenwriters/authors/whoever he has to work with. Forces them to let him write whatever shitty romance he wants to write. Sapnap can imagine their faces.
Normally, he'd keep quiet and nod along, because really, Sapnap only came for the money. Letting some rich jerk do all the work benefits him because then he can focus on other things, like studying for that stupid history exam. He doesn't even want to do this.
But what he does want to do is to bring this High And Mighty fucker down because no one— and he means no one tells him he has "mediocre writing skills". Not after he wrote until his wrist almost fell off— Not after he poured his heart and soul into all of those little drafts on the table right now. He can hear them, he can hear all the drafts screaming at Sapnap to drag the British actor into them, and watch as he suffers.
"You wanna know why you push to have romance in everything you star in, GeorgeNotFound? It's because that's all you're good at. Oh yes, you and— and your attractive face and oh-so-charming ways. You can make any female lead fall in love, can't you? Because you were born like that." He stands up and yells, not too loud that it'll strain his voice because Mr. Naturally Talented doesn't deserve his maximum— Not when he doesn't put any effort into anything, like basic human kindness.
"Maybe you should switch it up sometime. Come back to me when you're more than just a pretty face."
And then Sapnap stomped off. He slammed the door and ran like a wildfire spreading through a forest.
Sapnap was in such a rush to get out of there that he didn't even notice that he went back home empty-handed until he collapsed on his bed.
Ah, Fuck. His eyes grow tired and he fights to keep them open. He hears a soft "mew" which can only be Lily, his cat that's been with him since he was 7— He smuggled her into his dorm from Day 1, and luckily for him, Lily is a quiet sort of cat. She's always listened to him and he's sure he doesn't deserve her.
Lily lets out a soft meow again, probably saying something like Go to sleep. Sapnap has always been one to fall asleep easily— He can sleep through any noise and on anything, even tables (don't ask why he slept on a table before). It's kind of like being able to sleep on command, which is pretty cool, but he doesn't want to. He can't sleep— If he sleeps, then tomorrow will come sooner, and he'll have to go back there to get his drafts because he can't just leave them in the hands of that British jerk, but he doesn't think he can handle that.
The sliver of guilt in his heart is making him sleepy.
Sapnap, in typical Sapnap fashion, passed out, and now today is Sunday.
He didn't even change out of his black hoodie and now it's all wrinkly since he tends to move a lot in his sleep. His headband is crooked, so he straightens it. He's less panicked than he thought he'd be to the extent that it kinda creeps him out— He's never this calm? On the outside, he looks aloof and distant, but on the inside, he's just a screaming mess.
Maybe this is God's way of telling me it's going to be okay, Sapnap muses, pulling on these black satin socks. But nothing's ever "okay". Kinda like when you get back from school and your parents ask you how it was and you say "okay", except it wasn't okay. It was horrible and you know it. He goes into even deeper thought before immediately pulling himself out. He shakes his head, taking off his hoodie just to replace it with something else.
What am I even saying? My parents never asked me anything, considering they were never really there. Sapnap decides it's best not to dwell on the past and shuts that thought train down. He settles for a white collared shirt with an orange hoodie, paired with classic blue jeans. He put more thought into this outfit and makes sure the collar is outside of the hoodie in a neat way. "If I'm gonna get fired, I might as well not look like an emo mess." Sapnap mutters to himself, sure that George is gonna bitch about him.
He's never gotten "fired" before, and he's not completely sure that he will be, but someone's definitely going to be mad at him for reprimanding that self-centered jerk. Sapnap hasn't experienced being yelled at many times, but he's had a few encounters, and he always, always almost cries in front of the person yelling at him. He's never cried in front of anyone, which is one of the things he prides himself on, but people always bring him close to tears when they yell at him.
But this time, he's mentally prepared for it. He's mentally prepared and he's ready. When the bus finally drops him off at the film set, he takes a deep breath before walking in. Looks the exact same as it did yesterday— Everyone is either relaxing or chatting away with someone else, the cameras are all turned off since there's nothing to film, and the repair guys who were here yesterday are still fixing the lights.
Sapnap goes up the stairs to the mezzanine where nobody else is, probably because nobody else is a complete loner like him. He looks down at all the directors and actors. They're all so carefree, with no worries, and maybe he should just relax as well.
"Everyone, everyone! We have an official main genre for our movie!" Never mind, relaxing over. Sapnap immediately recognises the guy because he called him "Sapan" yesterday, and he has the tendency to repeat words twice for some reason. There's loud cheering and the college student is filled with dread— He already knows what genre it's going to be, and when he sees GeorgeNotFound, aka The Guy He Called Just A Pretty Face, step up to the mic, he slumps down on the railing.
"Haha, um, so yeah. Us screenwriters agreed that—" We didn't agree on shit, you little liar. Sapnap's eyebrows furrow as he glares at the other from above, totally not pissed that he still looks good, even from this angle. George is also smiling brightly like the faker he is, but all actors probably do this.
"—Horror would be a great genre!"
"Wait, what?"