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Improvisation	By : Rina76 Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Tokio Hotel Views: 1721 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not know Georg Listing, Tom Kaulitz, Bill Kaulitz or any members of Tokio Hotel. This story is a complete work of fiction and not true. I don't own this fandom am not making any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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They both do a marvellous job of pretending not to remember. Or notice. They pretend not to notice the magnetic force drawing them in when they have to exchange deep, meaningful looks as part of a scene, or how their skin tingles and zings any time they have to touch. Georg acts like he doesn’t notice the way Tom’s breathing quickens marginally, or the way his cheeks flush ever so slightly when they are close together. Tom acts like he doesn’t notice the way Georg licks his lips more frequently than usual, or the way his eyes drop to Tom’s mouth and linger there. Oh, the two actors do an Oscar-winning performance of pretending not to notice these things.

But they do.

Georg has this niggling feeling that the chemistry between them is being captured by the camera, that other people can see it too. He’s pretty damn sure that Gustav Schafer has picked up on it. And he’s right. Gustav sees it; he’s the director and he sees everything. But Gus does not say anything to anyone about it. In actual fact, he thinks it’s great for the film. It lends more realism to the characters of Miles and Joseph and their semi-erotic criminal relationship. The boys look perfect together and would make a great couple. But he’s still not going to let them kiss on screen.

For a whole seven days, Tom and Georg pretend. They get up early in the morning, they go to costume and make up, they go over their lines, they go to the set, they wait until Gustav’s ready and then they do their scenes. After that they break for lunch. During the endless waiting periods between takes, the two co-stars talk – about work, music, future ambitions, those kind of topics, not about anything personal – and they joke around, sharing smokes, playing soccer in the studio parking lot, kicking a ball of crumpled up duct tape back and forth while acting like nothing of a sexual nature happened between them at all. They act like they don’t know how the inside of each other’s mouths taste, or how their hair smells, or how it feels to have hands inside shirts or tongues on warm skin. Most of all, they act like they don’t know how much they want to do it again.

Though he previously made the first move, Georg refrains from flirting with Tom in any way, afraid that the easily-angered boy will hit him again. He is lucky that Tom’s last punch did not leave bruising or swelling because Gustav would have been less than impressed, especially after the impromptu kissing scene, and Georg does not feel like being yelled at. He’s worried that if he gets yelled at, he will do something embarrassing like burst into tears. He is that stressed out and high-strung from all the pretending; it’s destroying him. All he can think about, even when he’s in the middle of a scene with his attractive female co-star Hannah Dallas, is kissing Tom Trumper and wondering if Tom wants to kiss him too. It’s always at the back of Georg’s mind. He’s fairly sure Tom does want more kissing but for some reason unknown is holding back, is denying himself. By denying himself, he is denying Georg and Georg can’t take much more of this.

On a normal day after they put in some long working hours, Gustav wraps up and the boys are free to do whatever they want for the rest of the night. Typically, that involves Tom and Georg doing completely separate activities in their completely separate trailers or catching up with their completely separate friends. Their night lives do not have anything to do with each other. Every evening, Georg briefly entertains the idea of going to visit his co-star but always decides not to. Besides coming across as pathetically desperate, he doesn’t want to do anything that might push Tom further away from him and showing up without an express invitation might just do that. Anyway, Tom knows how he feels; he knows Georg wants him. Therefore, it is up to Tom to make the next move. The ball, as they say, is in his court. Tom has to come to Georg.

And a week after their first encounter, he does. It’s mid-evening and Georg is lounging on his bed, watching some action-packed, bullet-ridden cop movie to try and take his mind off a particular long-haired someone, which isn’t working in the least, when there is a quiet rap on his door. His heart leaps. Could it be? Oh, please let it be…

He rushes over to the entrance and pauses for a few seconds, not wanting to appear too eager, as if he’s been waiting for this night with every fibre of his being. He tries not to get his hopes up too much; it’s probably somebody else. Georg has done the exact same thing every time someone knocks on his trailer. But he wishes with all his soul that this time whoever is on the other side of that door is the one person he wants to see. That he NEEDS to see. So damn badly. He takes a steadying breath and turns the handle.

There are long-lashed chocolate eyes looking back at him in the dim glow of the front light. The same eyes that have been haunting Georg’s dreams and his every waking moment. Trying to act casual, Georg steps back, wordlessly asking Tom to come in. Tom steps up into the trailer and Georg shuts the door after him. Then locks it, just in case.

Georg turns and sweeps his gaze over the other young man. Tom is wearing black pants, a black cap and a black hoodie, as if coming here to Georg’s trailer was a furtive, highly-secretive mission and he wanted to blend into the shadows, like a cat burglar. Georg thinks that Tom looks gorgeous in black. Hell, Tom looks gorgeous in anything. He’s got his earrings in and the circular piercing sits through his lower lip, as always.

Tom checks out his handsome older co-worker in the same assessing fashion. Georg is dressed in indigo denim jeans and a white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His short dark hair is tousled and soft-looking. Against the white shirt, his skin glows with good health and the browning effects of surfing in the sun. Tom wonders if that tan is all over Georg’s body and feels himself hardening a tiny bit. Thankfully, Georg doesn’t seem to notice even though he is gazing closely at Tom too. Georg’s eyes are deep green at that moment, like the deeper parts of the ocean, and just as turbulent.

The two males don’t say anything. They just look at each other. The sound of the TV can be heard in the other room: car tyres screeching, people yelling, gunshots. The lighting in Georg’s trailer is subdued and there are fresh flowers in the vase on the bench top. Tom fleetingly thinks it’s kind of sweet that Georg likes flowers. Kind of romantic. But he is not in a romantic mood, not in the sense of champagne, boxed chocolates and classical violins, anyway. Tom doesn’t even know what mood he’s in. He only knows that he’s stayed away long enough and he had to come over here tonight or he would have gone insane. He simply HAD to see Georg again.

And now he’s seeing him.

They keep staring at each other, warily, like dogs sizing up the competition, except these two dogs don’t want to fight. They want to hump like, well…dogs. And they both know it. Tom flicks distractedly at his lip ring. Georg waits, even though he craves nothing more than to throw the kid onto his bed and tear all his clothes off. He wants to do that so much, he is screaming inside. But he doesn’t do it. He just looks at Tom and waits. This is part of the game. Is Tom going to play? Or is he not?

Deciding to play, Tom moves towards him. Georg welcomes the teen with open arms, pulling Tom into his embrace, Georg’s head dipping down to catch the other male’s tempting mouth. Without any further preamble they are kissing, open-mouthed and greedily, and their hands are grabbing and clutching at each other’s bodies as if they can’t get close enough. Georg yanks off Tom’s cap, freeing all that blond hair. With their eyes shut the two actors blindly stumble around, bumping into the sink, the front of the fridge and teetering into the eating area, trying to find a comfy place to lean on. The tabletop beckons again but Tom has other ideas and manoeuvres them in the opposite direction, banging Georg back against a wall. Tom has a figure like a cheetah: lithe muscles and long limbs with hardly an ounce of fat on him. But for all his slenderness, he is surprisingly strong and he uses this strength to keep Georg right where is, pressing hard against the brunette man and holding him captive against the wall, their mouths still locked together. Tom growls in his chest and presses harder against his green-eyed prisoner, letting Georg know that despite his younger age, HE is going to be the aggressor this time. He is going to be the boss. And that’s fine and dandy with Georg.

Feeling like he is in the middle of a wet dream, and loving every second of it, Georg has one hand buried in Tom’s long silky hair and the other is on his narrow waist, slowly slipping down and around, onto the blond teen’s ass. Tom roughly removes Georg’s hands and pins them to the wall, on either side of him, clearly telling Georg not to touch. So Georg doesn’t. He doesn’t try to get away or flip Tom around; he doesn’t need to be dominant. He is quite happy to let Tom be that. But Georg isn’t completely passive either. He is kissing Tom back with the same fervor that Tom is kissing him with. They entwine tongues passionately and deeply, as if they are starved of the other, which isn’t far from the truth. A whole week has gone by and they have seen each other every day but have not shared any physical contact. Well, they’ve touched, but it was written into the script and not personal or intimate at all, not with dozens of people looking on. Since that memorable evening on Georg’s table, they haven’t exchanged one private touch or caress just because they wanted to and now they are hungry for it. Very hungry.

With no trace of shyness or the fear he exhibited seven nights ago, Tom grinds his pelvis against the more muscular male. They are already both rock-hard. The sublime friction of denim on his groin and the feel of Tom’s erection against his own causes a groan of yearning to rumble in Georg’s throat. With a warning squeeze, as if to say, “Don’t try anything,” Tom lets go of Georg’s wrists and Georg dutifully keeps his hands to his sides, even though he itches like mad to touch the bejewelled boy. But as long as Tom is touching him, he can keep the itch in check. And Tom is touching him. For real, not just a fantasy.

As they continue to kiss, which in their pent-up frenzy is more like feeding time in the zoo rather than kissing, the black-clad teenager is ripping the buttons off Georg’s shirt. Literally. But Georg doesn’t care. He has plenty of shirts. There’s only one Tom Trumper and that’s all he cares about. Tom spreads the shirt open, revealing Georg’s brown chest and stomach. Georg groans again as Tom’s warm hands unite with his skin, stroking and searching, learning the feel of firm muscle beneath suede-like flesh and familiarizing himself with another male body besides his own. Georg’s belly is toned and ridged, his six-pack easily seen and felt under his skin. The younger boy explores every inch of his co-star’s torso, tracing the outline of small, flat nipples and then a navel, ruffling through the dark fur low on Georg’s abdomen.

Tom cuts off the kiss and brings his mouth down to Georg’s neck, licking and biting, and not-so-gently either. To be more accurate, he’s verging on breaking through the skin with those sharp canine teeth of his. Georg lets his head fall back against the door and closes his eyes in rapture, utterly lost and helpless against the relentless assault on his throat, a small amount of pain worth all the pleasure. He stands there with his arms motionless by his sides, like Tom voicelessly instructed him to, and lets the blond teenager do whatever he wants, even hurt him, if only a little and certainly not unbearably. Georg can hear himself emitting these desperate, hoarse-sounding moans – moans that prove exactly how much he has wanted this, exactly how much he has wanted Tom. But he is too far gone to care what Tom thinks of his unconcealed expression of sexual arousal.

If Georg had asked, he would have found out that Tom is enjoying listening to those moans and feeling them resonating in Georg’s throat, which he is still enthusiastically nipping at. Oh yes, Tom’s enjoying those moans quite a bit. His roaming fingertips go down to the crotch of Georg’s jeans, cupping the bulge there. Georg makes a sound of exclamation at the ribald move and automatically presses into the other boy’s palm. Tom’s response is to press back, hard. It’s like he has to prove something, to Georg or perhaps to himself. Maybe both. Tom has to prove that he isn’t a wimp, that he isn’t scared, that he can do this. And he is. He feels incredible power holding Georg immobile against the wall with his body and his mouth and an unspoken command. He feels power knowing that Georg is lusting over him but isn’t allowed to touch. He feels power at making Georg moan out loud. He has something Georg wants and it is solely up to Tom whether Georg gets it or not.

Intending to give the second male something very soon, Tom rubs him teasingly and Georg whines in frustration, wanting more. Much more. Still nuzzling Georg’s neck, Tom smiles. Georg can feel the smile on his skin and he whines again at the merciless taunting. He has an almost overriding impulse to push the boy down to his knees and make him put those smiling lips somewhere else but Georg clenches his hands into fists and manages to restrain himself.

Please Tom, he begs telepathically. Touch me. Suck me. Anything. Just stop torturing me!

As if he somehow hears Georg’s unuttered plea, Tom ceases the teasing and starts to get down to business. He pulls back a bit so he can see what he’s doing. Georg has a button fly and those things are much more difficult to undo than a regular fly, which you just zip down. He ends up needing both hands to work the five silver buttons out of their respective slots. Georg is looking down in feverish anticipation, watching Tom’s long, artistic fingers open the front of his jeans up. He holds his breath as the blond teen draws his cotton boxers down. Hesitating for a nanosecond, Tom sees that no, the tan does not go all the way over Georg’s body. It finishes just above his pubes. Summoning up all his bravery, Tom boldly goes where he has not gone before. He wraps his hand around Georg’s exposed cock.

Georg immediately loses it. He is that turned on, that excited by all the kissing and the grinding and the rubbing that actual skin on skin contact just tips him clean over the edge. He grabs Tom around the waist (despite the no-touching rule), jerks him closer, gasps once, shudders and comes all over the front of Tom’s hoodie. The green-eyed man is gripped by a few fantastic heartbeats of mindless ecstasy and then is brought back down to earth with a rude smash. In paralyzing mortification, Georg realises he just shot his load on Tom and the kid hardly even touched him. How absolutely horrifying!

Taking his hand away from the prematurely ejaculating object, Tom looks down at himself and his hoodie with a combination of surprise and interest. He doesn’t appear grossed out, though. Georg cringes seeing the mess he made, the thick white fluid standing out vividly against the black material. There’s no way to fix it except to throw the item into a washing machine, which he doesn’t happen to have in his trailer, and Tom can’t go back outside with that all over him. It’s perfectly obvious what it is. The older actor groans and makes a, “Shit, I’m really sorry,” type of face. Tom shrugs, as if it’s no big deal and Georg is filled with relief. Intending to repay him, Georg looks inquiringly at Tom, asking with his eyes what Tom wants now. Does he want Georg to do something for him? Because he will. He’ll do anything Tom desires. Anything at all.

He reaches out to Tom but Tom quickly takes Georg’s wrist and halts him, the pierced boy shaking his head shortly. The jolt of Georg’s semen gushing onto his hoodie like a bottle of soda that’s been vigorously shaken has made Tom return sharply to his senses and he realises that they shouldn’t have done this. Yes, it was singularly the most thrilling moment of his existence so far but it was still wrong. For a million reasons, it was wrong. And Tom isn’t about to make it a million and one by letting Georg do anything to him, even though he is unfulfilled and aching. The short-haired male gazes at him questioningly, his brow crinkled in confusion, and Tom shakes his head again, gently placing Georg’s hand back down beside the wall. Georg gets the not-so-subtle hint.

Disappointed and humiliated, the older actor fumblingly does his jeans-buttons back up, goes into his wardrobe, retrieves a clean grey hoodie and hands it to Tom who gratefully takes the article of clothing. They don’t look directly at each other. The blond teenager carefully peels the sodden sweatshirt off and eases it over his head, making sure he doesn’t get the goo in his hair, and slips the clean one on in its place. He gathers up his hair and stuffs it into the back of his cap. Georg goes to do his opened shirt back up but realises that he can’t because Tom ripped most of the buttons off. Well, at least both of their tops are ruined now, so they’re even. He shoves his hands into his pockets and stares down at the cream carpet of his trailer. There is a minute of uncomfortable stillness where the two co-stars stand there mute, not knowing what to do or say. Particularly Georg, who is frantically wondering what will happen next. Where do they go from here? Is this the end of their relationship? Is it already over? Has he ruined everything?

Eventually, Georg dares to lift his head and he finds Tom staring at him. The younger male’s eyes are full of mixed messages. Regret, longing, bewilderment, desire, guilt. Perhaps even an apology? There’s too much going on in those brown orbs to be entirely sure what the other boy is thinking or feeling. Georg decides not to ask. Given the unbelievable awkwardness of the situation it’s better for both of them if Tom just leaves. He unlocks the door for Tom and steps back, allowing the blond teen to exit. Turning his head, Tom gives Georg one last look, a look of farewell that is hovering between “Forgive me,” and “Fuck, that was good,” and “This can never happen again,” and then the younger actor leaves with his soiled hoodie crumpled into a ball under his arm, closing the door after him. Alone at last, Georg throws himself down on the bed with a curse and spends the rest of the night mentally beating himself up for wrecking what he had with Tom before it had even really begun.

And all of this without one single word spoken.

………

Another week goes by. Another week of pretending not to remember what they did, another week of brilliant performances on both their parts. That week really tests Georg and Tom’s acting skills to the limit. Georg tries not to think of it as the longest damn week of his life, but as a unique opportunity to hone his craft. He truly believes he is becoming a better actor because of it. On the outside, at least. On the inside, he is a trembling, crumbling wreck. Every time Georg looks at Tom, all he can see is him standing there with white goo on his black hooded sweater. He wonders what Tom sees when he looks at him. The same thing? Every day he feels like staying in his trailer, hiding under the covers and dying with embarrassment but every day he courageously shows up to work and says hello to Tom. The boy’s response is usually a noncommittal, “Hey,” tossed over his shoulder. Tom seems to be distant somehow. He’s not at the twitchy, avoiding stage yet but Georg has a feeling it’s coming next and he doesn’t want that. He just wants things to be how they were, before any of this happened. If he hadn’t lost his self-control that night, Tom wouldn’t have got turned off him and wouldn’t have left.

Yet again. It seems like every time they are alone together, Georg does something to make Tom leave. But he can’t help the force of his passion; when Tom is there with him, all Georg wants is to touch him, to kiss him and most of all, he wants to…well, why not be brutally truthful here?

Georg wants to fuck him.

There. He’s admitted it. He wants to fuck Tom. Or Tom can fuck him; he’s not fussy. Either way, he wants to get down and dirty with the eighteen year old blond boy. And he probably would have gotten to the other night if he hadn’t blown it. Georg hasn’t popped his cork like that since he was a teenager himself and it was just as excruciating as it had been all those years ago.

On the seventh day, barely keeping himself together, Georg walks into the makeup trailer to get the matching luggage under his eyes covered up. He hasn’t been sleeping real well lately. As he enters the room, he stops, feeling the blood drain from his face. Tom is already there. That’s not why he stopped, though. Tom is wearing the hoodie. The black one. It’s been washed, obviously, but to Georg, it may as well have a big sign on it saying, “Georg Listing Blew His Load On This Hoodie.” Georg already has his Miles Vanderwolf clothes on: black pants, leather boots, squeaky vinyl trench coat. Usually you get in costume before you get your makeup done, but Tom has never been a rule-follower. The blond teen looks up as Natalie, the makeup artist, is dotting concealer onto his forehead.

“How you doin’?” Tom says casually, as if nothing is up, as if he isn’t wearing the very symbol of Georg’s emasculation like a badge. Georg can’t speak. He can’t breathe. He can’t move. He’s standing there like a statue.

Why is Tom doing this to him? He’s taunting him, mocking him, making him recall the awful, mortifying early-ejaculation episode. As if he can forget. Why would Tom do such a mean thing to him?

“Are you all right, man?” Tom asks with slight frown on his thick brows. He almost looks worried. Oh, Tom’s a very good actor indeed, Georg thinks bitterly, forcing himself to move and plastering a fake smile on his face.

“Right as rain,” the older man lies as he drapes himself into the nearest chair. “And you?”

Tom is still looking at him weirdly. “Fine,” he murmurs. Natalie grasps his jaw and turns his face back to her so she can continue making Tom look Hollywood-perfect. Not that she has to do much work. Georg is grateful for the interruption. He can see out of the corner of his vision that Tom is staring at him in the mirror but he doesn’t make eye contact. When Tom’s all done, he gets up, shoots Georg another funny look and says, “See you on set.”

“Yeah. See ya,” Georg returns easily, not letting his feelings show in his voice. Tom leaves. Georg gazes at himself in the mirror and sees how leeched of colour his face is. The hoodie. Tom’s wearing the actual hoodie. He may as well have just kicked Georg in the nuts; he didn’t think the kid could be so cruel. He blinks back tears of hurt, of shame, of degradation. If he makes it through this day without losing it, it’ll be a bloody miracle.

………

“I can’t stop now, Joseph. I’ve come too far for that,” Miles declares angrily. “You wanna pussy out, go right ahead! But I’m seeing this thing through to the very end. You can leave if you want to; I don’t care. Hey, if you leave, I get to steal the diamonds…wait…I get to KEEP them… Aw, fuck it!”

Georg bangs his fist on the roof of Miles’s car in frustration. He doesn’t normally swear on set if it’s not in the script but he’s enraged because this is the third time he’s screwed up his lines. Well, this particular set of lines anyway. All day long he’s been missing his mark, forgetting what he has to say next and generally doing such a crappy job he’s surprised Gustav hasn’t fired his ass. The camera people and the lighting technicians appear bored and irritated, like they can’t wait to go home and Georg is just holding them up.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “Sorry, everyone.”

“Let’s do that again,” Gustav Schafer calls out patiently. “Georg, turn more towards camera one.”

Georg nods and sucks in a fortifying breath, telling himself to concentrate. They completed some takes at the jazz club earlier, which isn’t so much a jazz club as a cleverly built set in the middle of the studio, and now they are outside the studio doing a street-scene where Miles calls Joseph on the phone to stop him from baulking at the next part of their plan. They have the diamonds they stole but now they have to kill the witness. The prostitute, Tina. The redhead that Joseph has become interested in. And Joseph doesn’t want to do it.

A movie is never shot in sequence. The most important scenes are normally shot first and then the others, in whatever order the director wishes. Georg is standing outside on a road beside a parked black car. Miles’ car. It’s dark, and he has a cell phone in his hand. He’s not really talking to Tom on the phone; it just has to look like he is. Tom is nowhere in sight as he is not needed for this shot. He’s probably in his trailer strumming his guitar or smoking. Possibly both at once. Georg gets in position, waits for Gustav’s cue and then has a fourth attempt at the scene.

“I can’t stop now, Joseph. I’ve come too far for that. You wanna pussy out, go right ahead! But I’m seeing this thing through to the very end. You can leave if you want to; I don’t care. Hey, if you leave, you don’t get any of the diamonds. I get to keep them all. However, that bitch has to die and nothing you say can change that. She saw us and knows what we did.”

Finally. Success!

“I know she’s the first chick you ever slept with but don’t fool yourself into thinking Tina cares about you because she doesn’t. She’s just a fucking whore. She’s nothing; she’s not important.” Georg’s harsh voice turns softer and more persuasive as Miles tries to sweet-talk Joseph into doing what he wants. “What’s important is us, Joe. You and me. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? Don’t –I– mean anything to you? After everything we’ve been through, everything we’ve achieved, everything we’ve done together...She’ll never be as close to you as I am.”

Here Georg halts as his head is suddenly and unwillingly filled with visions of how close he and Tom got a week ago in his trailer. Kissing. Hungry, frantic electric kissing; Tom’s lean body pressing him hard against the wall; Tom’s hot mouth on his neck, biting; the boy’s seeking hands all over his skin, on his stomach, going lower, unbuttoning his jeans and then wrapping around his cock…

“Georg? Hello?”

Gustav’s sharp voice cuts through the images in his head and Georg realizes he’s stopped speaking and is staring into space. And he’s shaking. He’s shaking that much that he drops the phone onto the road.

“Shit,” he mutters and bends to pick it up. Luckily, it’s not broken. It’s only a prop anyway and they have more of them. The director comes over and takes Georg’s arm, pulling him aside, away from listening ears. Georg fully expects to get told off and steels himself for a barrage of abuse, but the bespectacled man just wants a quiet word with him in private.

“You’ve been out of it all day, Georg,” Gustav says, gazing at him in concern through black-framed glasses.

“Yeah, I know, I know. I’m really sorry, Gus,” the first male mumbles, his green eyes downcast. “It won’t happen again.”

“Why don’t you just talk to him?”

At Gustav’s unexpected sentence, Georg lifts his head up, frowning. “I beg your pardon?”

“I know this is about Tom,” Gustav tells him gently. “I know there’s something going on with you two.”

“Ah, hell. I was hoping you hadn’t noticed,” Georg says in resignation.

“Fat chance. I notice everything that goes on in my movies.” The blond man lays a hand on Georg’s shoulder in a gesture of support. “I don’t know what happened between you, but I can tell you that Tom is just as confused and upset as you are.”

“He is?” Georg finds that very hard to believe. The blatant hoodie-wearing for one thing. That was not the action of an upset person. That was the action of a person who wanted to cause upset. And it worked too. He’s been screwing up all day.

Gustav nods. “He’s bothered too. He just hides it better. ”

Georg sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, which feels all greasy and stiff due to the styling product slicking it back. Wiping his fingers on his pants, he grimaces. He can’t wait to wash the stuff out in the shower.

“I can’t figure him out,” Georg finally confesses to the other man standing in front of him. “Tom is so unpredictable and unreadable. He’s driving me insane.”

“Well, that’s why you have to talk to him,” Gustav repeats. “For the love of God, sort this out so you can focus on your work. All right?”

Georg sighs again. “All right.”

With a kind tone and a knowing light in his eye, Gustav leans in and says, “He feels the same way about you, Georg. He stares at you, when he knows you won’t see him. You don’t think he does but I’ve witnessed it on more than one occasion. You are the older one here and I believe he looks up to you. If you talk to him, he’ll listen. Go see the kid tonight, okay?”

After giving it a few seconds of thought, Georg pronounces determinedly, “Okay. I will.” Gus is right. Enough is enough! Right after the shoot is over for the evening, Georg is going to confront Tom and force the teen to admit his true feelings. Even if they are not what Georg wants to hear. Even if they end up in a huge brawl, it’s got to be better than having to pretend for another damn minute.

“You think you can finish the scene now?” Gustav enquires. Georg takes a deep breath and lets it out, straightening his spine and plucking up all his professionalism.

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do it.”

“Good man,” Gustav says, clapping him on the shoulder. The blond-haired director turns to go back behind the camera and Georg grasps his arm, halting him for a moment.

“Thank you,” Georg says sincerely to Gustav, meaning for both the wise advice and for not ripping his head off and sticking it on a pole for crows to peck at.

“No problem. Just do this scene without any more hitches. You got it?” Gustav orders, sternly pointing at him.

Georg grins and salutes, feeling a hell of a lot better and more like his old self than he has in days. “Yes, sir. Got it loud and clear.”

Natalie comes over to fix his hair and makeup before the next take. His confidence bolstered back to its usual level, Georg manages to do the whole spiel without a single mistake and thusly impresses Gustav with his scorching intensity at the same time. The award-winning director knew Georg had it in him. If he had to choose the better actor out of Georg and Tom, he couldn’t do it. He is very happy to have cast them both to star in his film and couldn’t have found anyone better to play Joseph and Miles. He just hopes they sort out their personal issues before it interferes any further with their work. Still, he knows that it’s difficult when you’re young and trying to come to terms with who you really are. Gustav remembers what it was like to be Tom’s age. It wasn’t easy, but he’s sure the two actors will figure it out together.
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Improvisation