Unscripted Act I

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2If Finn wasn’t so in shock, he probably would have pinched himself. Was this some sort of dream? Had he passed out during work and was he now dreaming that his idol, the brilliant, smoking hot Ethan Teller was flat on his back, staring up at him? Of course! This couldn’t possibly be real…could it? Slowly lowering himself to his knees, the two men stared at one another: Finn with wide eyed curiosity, and Ethan with the look of a man about to be murdered. Raising his hand, Finn reached forward, Ethan shrinking away in reflex.

Without much warning, Finn poked him square in the forehead. As if that wasn’t enough, he poked him a few more times. As if trying to find the squeaker box in a dog’s chew toy. Finally, Ethan shook him off and swatted his hand away. “Cut it out!”

“Sorry!” Finn held up his hands. “It’s just…I…I mean…are you…?”

After a moment’s pause, Ethan let out a long sigh, hanging his head in defeat. “Yes,” he said miserably. “I’m Ethan Teller…The same Ethan Teller in Hot Blood.”

“Ohymygosh!” Never the brightest crayon in the box, Finn lurched forward in spite of Ethan’s obvious insecurities, stars in his eyes and hands clasped as though in prayer. “You—you are! Oh dear lord! I think this will make me believe in a god from now on! You’re Ethan Teller! Oh I’m your biggest fan! I’ve seen every single episode! Honest! I know every inch of you! Oh wow, did that come out right? Oh I can’t believe it’s you! Please, sign my deluxe edition of Season 1! And my box set of Season 2 while you’re at it! Can I take a picture? Oh oh oh! I’ve got costumes in the closet! Think we can do a little cosplay? I follow this fan blog called Boiling Blood, and they’ll never believe me that you were at my house unless there are pictures!” Finn’s hundred mile an hour mouth was stopped, rather abruptly, by Ethan’s fingers literally having to pinch it closed.

“Please,” came his insistent voice. His eyes were weary, sudden deep circles beneath them. “You seem…nice. I guess. But I really should probably be going.”

“Mmfrum?” Finn pulled his lips from Ethan’s fingers to speak properly. “But you just got here—”

Ethan’s eyes strayed nervously. “I’m sorry. I just really can’t—” Weakly, he stared at a bit of Finn’s memorabilia. “I can’t deal with this. I don’t mean to disappoint…” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you mind if I use your phone?”

“Oh um…sure.” He watched as Ethan dialed a few numbers and held it to his ear. He noticed just how haggard he looked. Bags sat beneath his eyes, his hair splayed and unkempt. More than anything, he looked tired.

“Damn.” He clicked hung up. “Not answering…Are there any cabs at this hour?”

“I’ve never seen one,” Finn said honestly. “Maybe we should call someone? Or something? Let them know you’re here?”

Surprisingly, Ethan didn’t seem to keen on the idea. “No. The only person who’d be awake right now isn’t picking up…” He rubbed his forehead. “Not to mention she’s probably ready to kill me right now.”

“Really?” Carefully, Finn edged a little closer, still as wide eyed as before. He began to think. Ethan had been running away from someone tonight. Finn went through the situation a few times before realizing what it could have been.

“Ah!” He sprung up, hands clapping together. “No wonder! You’re hiding from someone, huh? What is it? Gambling debt? Do you owe some mobsters some money?” Yes, that had to be it! The mystery, the wariness of strangers knowing who he was…Ethan must have had run-ins with the worst kind of people, and was now trying to hide wherever he could to avoid sleeping with the fishes. “Don’t worry, Mr. Teller, sir!” Finn plopped behind him and gripped his arm happily. “Consider me your own personal body guard! I can’t really fight, but I carry around a little mace can sometimes! Comes with the territory, I guess.”

Naturally, Ethan looked rather confused. “What? No, of course not—please; I don’t need a bodyguard!” He pulled away, shoving his hands in between his legs. Looking all the more nervous, his eyes darted to the carpet beneath their feet. “I’m just…I don’t deal to well with fans. I get claustrophobic around big groups and stuff like that. Especially when they’re all looking at me. Like those girls from before.”

“Girls?” Now that he mentioned it, those voices from the alley way didn’t sound all that mannish. But he supposed he wasn’t paying attention. Finn had a habit of that sometimes. “So, let me get this straight. You…were running from a group of fangirls.”

Ethan flinched. “I know how it sounds. But it wasn’t my fault!” He turned to Finn, frantic to tell his side of the story. “I was forced to go to this mixer by my agent. The food wasn’t even that good so I didn’t eat anything, and the people I had to meet with were even worse. And it went on all night! I was there for hours before I decided to leave. I knew the cameras were going to follow me out so I changed in the bathroom beforehand. Just when I was sneaking out the back, a group of girls who were heading to a nightclub recognized me. They tried asking for my autograph; that got other people’s attention. Before I knew it, everyone was around me, trying to get pictures and stuff. So I ran.” Helpless and ashamed, Ethan put his head into his arms. “I know, I know…I’m a coward. I’m sorry if I’m being annoying or anything…”

“Uh…no…” All in all, Finn didn’t know quite how to take it. On the one hand, Ethan Teller in the flesh was sitting right up next to him in licking distance. On the other, Ethan Teller was, to put it lightly, a much different man than he’d expected. Pitiful, meek, apologetic and all in all a great big push over. Where was that fire Finn saw on screen every week? That flare that Lazarus Hamish had? It had to be in there somewhere. That’s where all acting came from, right? Somewhere deep inside the real person? It couldn’t be all made up. Leaving Finn quite literally scratching his head, he found himself quickly being torn between confusion and being star struck. Ethan peaked over his arms and shied away yet again.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I’m bothering you, huh?” He finally stood, brushing off his pants. “Maybe I can just call a taxi service…”

“Erm, no, not at all.” Regaining himself, Finn stood with a big smile on his face. “And don’t bother. They charge extra for night time rides anyway.”

“Do they? I’ve never heard of that.”

“Well…maybe they do.”

Ethan still remained weary. “Just…so long as nobody knows where I am, I guess.”

“I won’t breathe a word of it!” he swore.

That brought a smile back to his face. “I appreciate it…” His eyes drifted to the infinite pieces of memorabilia. “Though…I don’t know how I can sleep in a place where I’m looking at myself if I’m going to be honest.”

Suddenly embarrassed, Finn pushed away a figurine from the edge of the kitchen counter. “Well…if it’ll make you feel comfortable I can put some stuff in my room for the night. No big deal.”

Ethan’s smile grew a lot more relieved. “That would really help. I’ve had enough attention for one night. So long as I’m not being a pain…”

“You kidding me? No way!” Pleased he could help, Finn scurried around, taking down what he could (that wasn’t bolted to the wall) and stuffed it in his closet. Coming back out, the living room was considerably barer, with only a few posters left. It was, however, a lot more tolerable to the skittish star.

“Thank you so much,” Ethan said yet again. “You have no idea how much this helps. I’ll still pay for dinner. And breakfast, too.”

Finn was starting to grow a little pink in the face. “Aw, you don’t have to do that! Just getting to meet you is enough…” Though I don’t think a couple of pictures would kill you, he thought to himself. Pushing that thought aside, Finn sat down and ordered some food for them, which arrived about a half hour later. Finn and Bobby, the delivery boy, were on a first name basis with one another by now. After all, being gay didn’t automatically mean you could cook.

“So you get claustrophobic huh?” Finn asked as they dug into their moo shu pork. “Must be weird working on a closed set. All those people watching you.”

“Oh, not at all.” Ethan slurped a little chow mein, the noodles whipping about before vanishing beneath those perfect lips of his. Though sucking up greasy noodles somewhat downgraded the sexiness a bit. “Everything has a place and a lot of times sets are only built with three walls. For certain scenes anyway. Plus, everyone has a job to do. So, most of the time, I’m not being hounded. They’re actually bigger than you’d think, so there’s plenty of room to breathe.”

“It didn’t look it to me.”

“It’s different in person, trust me.”

A few more chomps of his orange chicken, and then the conversation continued. “Is that why you don’t do interviews though?”

Ethan flinched. “I don’t do interviews because I don’t like them. All that pressure to answer the right thing and not messing up…It’s different than a scene because scenes have scripts. Interviews are scary…”

“Huh. So have you been like this all your life, or…?”

Ethan sighed. “Look, can we not talk about me for a while? I feel like that’s all anyone ever wants to talk about.”

Far from being off put, Finn smiled. “Well it’s a lot more interesting than talking about me.”

“Is it? That’s for the listener to decide, don’t you think?”

Finn snorted into his moo shu. “All right. I’m a college dropout waiter who’s obsessed with a prime time cop drama. Is that more interesting than the life of a TV star?”

“To me it is. I’ve always thought about working in food service.”

That had Finn gawking. “What? Why?” A perfectly valid question.

“Well…maybe not necessarily a waiter, but I always thought it’d be fun to be a baker. Sure, it’s a lot of work, but people would come and love the things you make, not you personally. Sort of…” He fiddled with his chopsticks. “Loved from afar, I guess is the best way to put it. Plus no press.”

“So what stopped you?”

Ethan pushed out his lower lip. “Baking is hard.”

That, above all else, got Finn laughing. To the point where noodles threatened to come out of his nose. Ethan looked either very scared or very confused. Or, more likely, both. “What’s so funny?”

“Baking isn’t hard!” Finn finally choked out. “I can’t make toast, but anyone can put cookie dough in the oven and set the timer.”

“That’s…that’s not really baking. Besides, last time I tried, the oven broke.”

Finn continued to laugh, eyes twinkling. “You’re funny, Mr. Teller.”

“Funny? How? It’s not like I try to be…” He paused. “And don’t call me Mr. Teller. It makes me sound so old. Just call me Ethan, okay? What was your name again?”

“Finn. Finn Phelps.”

“Finn huh? Alright, Finn. Mind passing the soy sauce?”

“Trade you for the wontons.”

* * * *

When Finn awoke that morning, he did so to the shrill cry of his alarm. Pausing, he settled himself and stared at the ceiling. Last night must have been a dream. It was too surreal, too improbable. Ethan Teller, actor, icon and all around hot mess had been running from fangirls only to take refuge in Finn’s crappy apartment? No way could that have actually happened. He sighed, pulling the blanket up past his nose. Well, at least it was a good dream while it lasted. It sure as hell seemed real. He even dreamed himself going to bed after dinner. So, with a belly full of disappointment, Finn dragged himself out of bed, got dressed, and made his way to the kitchen.

Once out of his room, he was greeted by the ungraceful snoring of that very same actor icon from the couch, Chinese boxes everywhere. For a moment, he stared. Was he still dreaming? But then, thinking about everything from last night, he supposed it was all, in fact, very real. That solidifying bit of information caused him to cup both hands to his cheek and quietly squeal to himself, hopping up and down with delight. Ethan might not have been the cool, suave actor Finn thought he was, but when it came down to it, Ethan Teller was still Ethan Teller.