You are a hardworking young actor that catches a big break, resulting in you attending your first big awards show. Among the famous faces you see that night: Tom Hiddleston. You only ever intended to admire him from afar, but he has different plans...
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Previously in YOJA: You've been trying to focus on work, but that has been a challenge, what with the awards show looming. You should be presenting this year - should, but you're not. You'd stubbornly declined that privilege while assuring all involved that you'd still be appearing. Both decisions were rooted in the fact that Tom would be there. Maybe after seeing him, after saying your piece, you'll be able to get on with things... or it'll be worse than ever before.
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There's a disconnect between you and the world, something you can't quite battle past no matter how much you try to. Richard is attempting small talk that you're only half paying attention to. Colleen, oohing and aaahing over your outfit and snapping photos to send to your – well, normally you'd send it to both your parents but right now... maybe she only sent something to your father? You're a ball of sleep deprivation and apprehension, dolled up and ready to present to the cameras.
According to Colleen, Mark had a few exciting projects he wanted you to look over, things she'd coordinate if you were interested, once the pair of you were back in Spain. The way she was billing the news they're both trying like hell to find things to keep you busy once the Touring Sundays sequel finished production. They'd figure out your schedule for ADR if and when you were needed.
The plan is to meet up with Mark somewhere on the carpet, Richard meant to shadow you – aka be your chaperone – until you were safely in the venue. If it's all in reaction to your leaving Ben's party prematurely you're left rolling your eyes. If it's something they're worried about happening and haven't looped you in on... Well, you'll worry about that later.
Richard opens the door to the limo and there's simply no time to dwell on anything other than this. The awards show.
You hold your breath as you exit the vehicle. It's a dream, a memory, and fantasy, all rolled into one. You remember walking a carpet just like this, alone and terrified. Then you were focusing so hard on not tripping and making a fool of yourself. That was the night you met Tom, the man you still consider to be the love of your life. He may never speak to you again, but that won't change a single damn thing about the way you feel about him – may he please not run from you tonight. There's also the night you spent trailing along behind him, feeling the tug of his hand as he led you through the crowds. Bittersweet memories, both.
You smile, mostly because you're supposed to at things like this, and move in the direction everyone seems to be indicating. You're not early, but you're not arriving late either. Small miracle, all things considered.
"Mark said he'll meet up with us closer to the building. Can't make it out to us—" The last half of Richard's comment is lost to you in a chorus of shouting, and he's already pocketing his phone when you move to follow him. He's got yours, too, since he's the one with pockets. Gorgeous as the layered pink tulle and taffeta thing is, no pockets.
