Fern shuffled awkwardly between feet for a moment. Was this the right house? She sure hoped it was, otherwise this would be very awkward. Not that it wouldn’t either way. She knocked on the door in case the doorbell wasn’t working, slightly anxious.
Zavian stood up leaving his grandma on the couch. He walked over to the door, checking to see if it was her. Shoot. He opened the door slowly, letting a small slouch overcome him. "Sup." He walked away, leaving the door open and her on the porch to walk in for herself. He walked back into the living room.
Fern assumed she was supposed to walk in, so she did so timidly, slightly annoyed at Zavian. She shut the door quietly and looked around, unsure exactly what Zavian expected her to do.
He motioned for her to come in further. "Just come in. It's not much, but-" His grandma interrupted him. "Well, who is this?" She walked into the living room from the kitchen slowly. "Uh, this is Fern." She raised her eyebrows with a smile. "I'm working with her on a project." She lowered them, still smiling. "Okay. Can you put on my show again? I think I turned it of." She walked over and sat down on the couch. He sighed. "Yeah." He took the remote and pressued a few buttons, turning on the show. He crouched down next to her. "No more walking around without me, okay?" He stood up, turning back to Fern. "We can work in the book room."
Fern nodded, still carrying her camera. “Okay,” she said. She shot a quick, uncertain smile at Zavian’s grandma, thinking that she seemed nice. Having no idea where the book room was, she waited for him to show her.
"This way." He walked into the hallway that led to other rooms. They walked past his room, his guitar up on the wall. I should have closed that. He made his way into the room past his room. It held a few shelves that had books on every shelf, no open space. The room smelled of worn paper, a smell he secretly loved. "This ok?"
“Yeah,” she replied. “This is really cool.” She took a deep breath in, smelling the scent of old books. Then she blushed a little, embarrassed. “You ready to get to work?” She asked, remembering that she didn’t like him.
"I mean, it's okay." That was a lie. If he brought his guitar in here, he'd never leave. "Sure." He brought out a couple of chairs to sit on. Usually, he'd sit on the floor, but he was guessing she wouldn't want to.
Fern plopped down in a chair, setting down her camera and other things. “So we have the script pretty much finished now,” she said. “We just have to plan out how we’re going to film it and everything.”
"Cool." He sat down in the chair, leaning back as he always did. "I-" a voice coming from the living room called him. He sighed. "I'll be right back." He stood up and walked out into the living room. His grandma sat on the couch waiting for him. "Be a dear and help me to my bedroom, would you?" He smiled warmly to her. "Of course." He helped her up, holding her arm gently. They made their way to her room, just across the book room slowly. "Thank you dear." He smiled to her, not remembering that Fern was right there. "I don't want to find you sleep walking again." She laughed a little. "Alrighty good sir." He escorted her to her bed before walking out, closing the door behind him.
Fern tried not to eavesdrop, but couldn’t help but notice how kind Zavian looked. How sweet. Her dislike for him thawed somewhat and she turned away.
Zavian walked back into the room, still smiling at the ground. His grandmother was the only person he truly knew and cared for and the only one who did the same for him. He sat back down in the chair, unaware how possible it was that she heard him. "So…what now?"
Fern shrugged. “I guess…we start filming? There’s several parts that are just a voiceover so we won’t need any actors or anything,” she said, almost surprised at the look on his face, so different from how he usually looked at school.
"Okay." She sat up, sighing a little. (I'm sorry it's so short!!! I'm at a friend's house)
It’s ok haha. My posts have been pretty far between because I’ve been so busy this week.//
She smiled slightly at him. “So do you want to film or do would you prefer that I do it?”
(Dude, same honestly)
"I don't really care." He leaned forward, placing his forearms on his thighs. "I mean," a smirk found it's way to his face, "I'm pretty great at everything, soooo…"
Fern rolled her eyes. “Let’s take turns then,” she replied. “It’ll give us an even workload.”
He clicked his tongue. "Mhmm. Okay." Just then, the air conditioner started behind him, rumbling loudly. That's what he hated about the book room: it was in the wrong room. There were so many noises, something his grandma hadn't taken into account when arranging it, but he didn't want to have to completely rearrange everything.
“I’ll start, I guess, since it’s my camera,” she offered. “Is there a good spot to just film for a couple minutes for a voiceover?”
He sighed. "Not really." Everywhere else didn't seem to have the effect of silence. Except my room. His room was probably the quietest place in the house, but up on his sunoen teal walls were his guitars and halfway written songs. Not onpy that, he didn't want to make it seem like he was trying to… Yeah. It's just for a few minutes right? "The quietest place is probably my room."
Fern blinked, surprised he’d offer it. “Okay,” she replied, a bit confused to be honest. “Let’s go then.” She picked up her camera. She almost gave him an actual smile.
Shoot, she actually- "Okay." He stands up, straightening a bit before heading out of the room. What are you doing?! He made sure she was following him before walking into his room. The walls were a sunken teal, smoothly painted all around. His guitar hung on onr wall, papers with his messy writing pinned next to them. A desk sat in the corner, drawers stuffed to the brim with more papers. His he'd was neatly made (his grandma would throw a fit if he didn't) with light blue covers. Besides that, there wasn't really anything else. "Here it is." The text from the night before sprung to his mind, but he quickly pushed it away.
A smile quickly flirted across her face before she swallowed it down and glanced around with a carefully uninterested look. “Yeah, this could work,” she said coolly. On the inside she thought his guitars were cool and the mess of papers made him seem more…human. She wondered what was on them. She took the camera out of its bag.
Zavian noticed that small smile, but quickly looked away. She sees me and that's not going to turn out good. He turns around, tidying up the papers a bit, trying to over some. "Just tell me what to do."