What Lies Beneath- Celeb fanfic
Title: What Lies Beneath
Rating: PG
Featured Celebs: Tom Welling; Allison Mack
Summary: His on-screen alter ego isn't the only one with a secret...
Notes: This little shot rpf angst randomly hit me while working on icons a few weeks ago, and has evolved since. This story was inspired by this behind-the-scenes picture, and is also slightly based on You Don't Know, by 98 Degrees. Feedback is loved! <3
He glances up and over at her as the makeup lady retouches her face. She doesn't really need the retouching, but that's not something he's going to announce. She didn't really need any makeup to begin with, but that is, again, something he's going to keep to himself.
As the makeup lady finishes her work, he quickly looks away before she can catch his gaze.
This is the way it always is. This is the way it has always been, at least for the past couple years.
She doesn't know. She can never know.
Every day, he goes to work with a smile on his face.
But it's not real. Even he knows that.
Things at home aren't as happy as they appear to be. They haven't been in a long time.
But no one knows. No one can ever know.
Every day, he goes to work. He does what he always does, playing his character to the max, getting as into the role as much as he dares to. It's not hard. It's in no way hard. There's nothing difficult about it at all.
And every day he has a scene with her, he relishes it. The smile he has on his face in ninety percent of those scenes- it is real. It is real, in the realest way possible.
But the realness of it hurts him, every day, when it's over. When he leaves, when he goes home to the wife he claims to love, he feels the pain of that reality. It haunts him. It haunts him, in the cold light of day, in the stillness of the night, in the dreams that flood his subconscious. It haunts him. The truth haunts him in the most painful way possible.
He doesn't do much with his wife anymore. Doesn't take her out much, doesn't hold her hand, doesn't kiss her. He hardly ever makes love to her anymore, and when he does, he does it with his eyes closed, willing himself not to say another woman's name. She doesn't seem to notice much. She never has. Sometimes, he wonders if all she sees in him is a "trophy husband", but usually banishes the thought right away. His wife loves him... doesn't she? That's why he's tried to keep up his facade for so long.
But even if he wasn't with his wife, he'd have to keep up the facade. The woman who has seemed to take over his heart and his mind is taken, probably soon to be married, if her boyfriend has anything to do with it. They already live together. It wouldn't be that much of a step up, would it? The thought pains him, but who is he, really, to have a say? He's supposedly the poster child for a happily married man.
Every day, he belittles himself, berates himself, hates himself for what he's doing. But he can't seem to help it.
Every day, when he goes to work, he tells himself that he can't feel this way, that he can fight it, he can ignore it.
But then he sees her face, her eyes, her smile. Her sweet, bright, beautiful smile.
And he's lost. Completely and utterly. He feels it even more than it was before.
And every year, he awaits to get the one script he considers the best of the entire season. He waits for the script that basically renders him permission to have some sort of intimacy with her. Every year, he waits for the permission to kiss her.
Last year, the permission never came, and it hurt him more than he'll ever admit. In one moment, he thought it had, but suddenly, a rewritten script had been thrust into his hands, and he felt his heart break, and disappointment had completely flooded him. The hurt in his face while filming that particular episode had been real, and true. At least that much could be said.
That night, after wrapping that episode, he had come home, feeling sad and even alone, and he'd recalled the last time he'd gotten to kiss her.
It'd been over seven months before, and it had been the most passionate kiss of his entire life. Actually, in that one session, they'd gotten to share more than one kiss. There had been many.
In one very brief rehearsal between just the two of them, in all honesty, he'd been a little dishonest. He'd insisted on practicing their kiss at least half a dozen times, just to "get the emotions right". His emotions were already in place. He didn't really need the rehearsal. And once they'd actually gotten to filming, the director had insisted on just as many takes, or more. By the time they were finished filming their final scene of the season, at nearly five in the morning, he had been a very blissful man. He'd felt as light as a feather, and had even asked her if he could buy her breakfast.
But his bliss hadn't lasted long.
The outing had merely been as friends, and though he'd already known it would be, he was still disappointed when it was reaffirmed by her own mouth.
"God, Tom. You really are my best friend. But you knew that, didn't you?"
He'd nodded, hiding his heart with a smile, that same empty smile he always wore.
Every day, he sees her, and wishes he could kiss her, and not just once a year for the cameras.
Every day, he sees her, and wishes he could hold her, and not just for the cameras.
And every day, he wishes he could take her into his arms, and into his bed, and make love to her, with his entire heart and soul, but he knows it'll never be.
And every time he goes online and reads what the fans are saying about the show, he hopes a flurry of them are right. And there's a secret reason why he agrees with those few, and hopes their dream for the show comes true. And every time, he wishes the writers would make suspicions true that his character is meant to be with hers. And it's mainly for one reason, and one reason only.
One day, he hopes and prays that he'll be handed the one script he's been waiting on for what feels like forever. He hopes for that one script, the one where his character has the biggest revelation of his life. That one script, the one where his character can finally say the three little words he's been longing to say to her, and will never be able to say.
I love you.
She will never know the truth behind those words.
She may never know what lies beneath the surface of her best friend.
But at least he'll finally be able to say the words.
He may never be able to really kiss her.
He may never be able to really hold her.
He may never be able to make love to her.
But at least he might have this, even if it's not meant to be real.
At least he might finally be able to tell Allison Mack just how much he loves her.
Rating: PG
Featured Celebs: Tom Welling; Allison Mack
Summary: His on-screen alter ego isn't the only one with a secret...
Notes: This little shot rpf angst randomly hit me while working on icons a few weeks ago, and has evolved since. This story was inspired by this behind-the-scenes picture, and is also slightly based on You Don't Know, by 98 Degrees. Feedback is loved! <3
He glances up and over at her as the makeup lady retouches her face. She doesn't really need the retouching, but that's not something he's going to announce. She didn't really need any makeup to begin with, but that is, again, something he's going to keep to himself.
As the makeup lady finishes her work, he quickly looks away before she can catch his gaze.
This is the way it always is. This is the way it has always been, at least for the past couple years.
She doesn't know. She can never know.
Every day, he goes to work with a smile on his face.
But it's not real. Even he knows that.
Things at home aren't as happy as they appear to be. They haven't been in a long time.
But no one knows. No one can ever know.
Every day, he goes to work. He does what he always does, playing his character to the max, getting as into the role as much as he dares to. It's not hard. It's in no way hard. There's nothing difficult about it at all.
And every day he has a scene with her, he relishes it. The smile he has on his face in ninety percent of those scenes- it is real. It is real, in the realest way possible.
But the realness of it hurts him, every day, when it's over. When he leaves, when he goes home to the wife he claims to love, he feels the pain of that reality. It haunts him. It haunts him, in the cold light of day, in the stillness of the night, in the dreams that flood his subconscious. It haunts him. The truth haunts him in the most painful way possible.
He doesn't do much with his wife anymore. Doesn't take her out much, doesn't hold her hand, doesn't kiss her. He hardly ever makes love to her anymore, and when he does, he does it with his eyes closed, willing himself not to say another woman's name. She doesn't seem to notice much. She never has. Sometimes, he wonders if all she sees in him is a "trophy husband", but usually banishes the thought right away. His wife loves him... doesn't she? That's why he's tried to keep up his facade for so long.
But even if he wasn't with his wife, he'd have to keep up the facade. The woman who has seemed to take over his heart and his mind is taken, probably soon to be married, if her boyfriend has anything to do with it. They already live together. It wouldn't be that much of a step up, would it? The thought pains him, but who is he, really, to have a say? He's supposedly the poster child for a happily married man.
Every day, he belittles himself, berates himself, hates himself for what he's doing. But he can't seem to help it.
Every day, when he goes to work, he tells himself that he can't feel this way, that he can fight it, he can ignore it.
But then he sees her face, her eyes, her smile. Her sweet, bright, beautiful smile.
And he's lost. Completely and utterly. He feels it even more than it was before.
And every year, he awaits to get the one script he considers the best of the entire season. He waits for the script that basically renders him permission to have some sort of intimacy with her. Every year, he waits for the permission to kiss her.
Last year, the permission never came, and it hurt him more than he'll ever admit. In one moment, he thought it had, but suddenly, a rewritten script had been thrust into his hands, and he felt his heart break, and disappointment had completely flooded him. The hurt in his face while filming that particular episode had been real, and true. At least that much could be said.
That night, after wrapping that episode, he had come home, feeling sad and even alone, and he'd recalled the last time he'd gotten to kiss her.
It'd been over seven months before, and it had been the most passionate kiss of his entire life. Actually, in that one session, they'd gotten to share more than one kiss. There had been many.
In one very brief rehearsal between just the two of them, in all honesty, he'd been a little dishonest. He'd insisted on practicing their kiss at least half a dozen times, just to "get the emotions right". His emotions were already in place. He didn't really need the rehearsal. And once they'd actually gotten to filming, the director had insisted on just as many takes, or more. By the time they were finished filming their final scene of the season, at nearly five in the morning, he had been a very blissful man. He'd felt as light as a feather, and had even asked her if he could buy her breakfast.
But his bliss hadn't lasted long.
The outing had merely been as friends, and though he'd already known it would be, he was still disappointed when it was reaffirmed by her own mouth.
"God, Tom. You really are my best friend. But you knew that, didn't you?"
He'd nodded, hiding his heart with a smile, that same empty smile he always wore.
Every day, he sees her, and wishes he could kiss her, and not just once a year for the cameras.
Every day, he sees her, and wishes he could hold her, and not just for the cameras.
And every day, he wishes he could take her into his arms, and into his bed, and make love to her, with his entire heart and soul, but he knows it'll never be.
And every time he goes online and reads what the fans are saying about the show, he hopes a flurry of them are right. And there's a secret reason why he agrees with those few, and hopes their dream for the show comes true. And every time, he wishes the writers would make suspicions true that his character is meant to be with hers. And it's mainly for one reason, and one reason only.
One day, he hopes and prays that he'll be handed the one script he's been waiting on for what feels like forever. He hopes for that one script, the one where his character has the biggest revelation of his life. That one script, the one where his character can finally say the three little words he's been longing to say to her, and will never be able to say.
I love you.
She will never know the truth behind those words.
She may never know what lies beneath the surface of her best friend.
But at least he'll finally be able to say the words.
He may never be able to really kiss her.
He may never be able to really hold her.
He may never be able to make love to her.
But at least he might have this, even if it's not meant to be real.
At least he might finally be able to tell Allison Mack just how much he loves her.