You’d known Bill Skarsgård since you were a kid.

Not in a fan way. Not in a distant, poster-on-the-wall way. In a very real, very strange way—long shooting days, trailers, scripts, quiet conversations between takes. You were young when you worked on IT, young enough that everyone kept a careful distance, young enough that boundaries were firm and supervised and very clear.

Still, somehow, you and Bill had gotten along effortlessly.

He’d talked to you like a person, not a child. Asked about what you liked, what scared you, what made you laugh. He was gentle in that low-key Scandinavian way—dry humor, soft smiles, calm presence. When filming ended, you didn’t become best friends or anything dramatic. You just… stayed in touch. Rare messages. A comment here. A check-in there. Years passed.

Life happened.

And then suddenly—reunion.

You were almost eighteen now. Taller, sharper, more sure of yourself. No longer the kid trailing behind the cast, clutching a water bottle with both hands. The same people surrounded you, but the dynamic had shifted. You noticed it immediately.

Everything felt familiar—but different.

The jokes were the same. The teasing. The way long shoots bonded everyone into this strange little family again. But now you were allowed in on conversations you hadn’t been before. Now you could sit wherever you wanted. Now no one blinked if you talked to Bill for a little too long.

And Bill noticed too.

Not in a dramatic way. Just in the way his eyes lingered a second longer when you spoke. The way he listened more closely. The way his humor softened when it was just the two of you.

Canada was cold, as expected.

The drive to the filming location was long, winding through endless stretches of road and pine trees. People shuffled seats without much thought, and you ended up in the back—Bill beside you, bags and jackets piled near your feet.

It felt… oddly intimate. Not in a romantic sense. Just quiet. Comfortable.

You talked about everything and nothing. About how weird it felt to be back. About how different it was now. About how surreal it was that you were almost an adult and still working with the same people who’d watched you grow up.

You showed him something on your phone. He leaned closer to see. Your shoulders brushed. Neither of you moved away.