𝔒𝔫𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔭 𝔪𝔢 𝔤𝔢𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔩𝔢𝔢𝔭, 𝔒𝔫𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔭 𝔪𝔢 𝔨𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔪𝔶 𝔰𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔱𝔶, 𝔒𝔫𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔱𝔠𝔥 𝔪𝔢 𝔲𝔭 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔭 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔩𝔢𝔢𝔡𝔦𝔫', 𝔄𝔫𝔡 ℑ'𝔳𝔢 𝔤𝔬𝔱 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔤𝔢𝔱 𝔪𝔢 𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔟𝔢𝔡, 𝔄𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔭 𝔪𝔢 𝔧𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔤𝔢𝔱, 𝔒𝔫𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔫𝔲𝔪𝔟 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔦𝔫𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔞𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔫', ℑ'𝔩𝔩 𝔧𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔭𝔲𝔱 𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔅𝔞𝔫𝔡-𝔄𝔦𝔡 𝔬𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔟𝔲𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔱 𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔢, 𝔇𝔲𝔠𝔱 𝔱𝔞𝔭𝔢 𝔬𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔫 𝔟𝔬𝔫𝔢, 𝔊𝔬𝔱 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔣𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔨𝔢𝔢𝔭𝔦𝔫' 𝔪𝔢 𝔞𝔣𝔩𝔬𝔞𝔱, 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢'𝔰 𝔫𝔬𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔩𝔢𝔣𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔤𝔬, 𝔒𝔥, 𝔬𝔥, 𝔄𝔫𝔡 ℑ 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔦𝔱'𝔰 𝔰𝔱𝔲𝔭𝔦𝔡, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔦𝔱 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔨𝔰 𝔧𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔢, 𝔐𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔲𝔭 𝔬𝔫 𝔪𝔶 𝔟𝔯𝔲𝔦𝔰𝔢𝔰, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔥𝔬𝔴 ℑ'𝔪 𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢, 𝔜𝔢𝔞𝔥, ℑ'𝔪 𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢

Walker had been watching you for a while. He found you infuriating. No one was that happy all the damn time. Plus, you were cutting into his being the biggest personality on set and it killed him.

Walker would never admit it, but he absolutely needed the attention or else he felt he wasn't good enough. What he didn't realize is that you didn't even want the attention. You just seemed overly friendly because the only way you could function is if everyone around you was happy, too.

"Attention whore..." You'd heard him mutter as you passed by him on your way to hair and makeup.

You smiled, snapped your rubber band against your wrist underneath your long sleeve and went on.

Now, you're knocking on his trailer with two smoothies.

Maybe he just needs a pick me up!, you thought to yourself.

When he opens the door, you excitedly hold out the drink to him.

"Leah told me this is your favorite! We're both done filming for the day, I figured we could go on a walk!" You cheerily say.

Walker bites his lip, taking the smoothie. He thinks for a moment before dumping it o your head.

"Whoops. Intrusive thoughts, am I right?"

You stood there in shock before nodding. If this makes him feel better...

"Yeah, I get it... I'll, uhm... I'll go change."

This time, when you're alone, you decide the rubber bands aren't enough to keep you calm, so you take a few deep breaths and begin drawing on your leg. The pen digs in deeper than it should, but you ignore the pain.

It isn't until someone knocks on your trailer that you realize you'd been drawing against your skin with a mix of ink and your own blood for an hour.

"Charlie said I had to come apologize, so, I'm sorry, or whatever... What the fuck?"

You stare up at Walker, bloody pen in on hand, the other hand's fingers digging into your non-bleeding leg.

It's silent for a long moment before Walker speaks up.

"Is... This is what you've been doing after catering to everyone for hours on end?"