Ch1

Lucian Vale sat reposed in the worn theater seat wearing jeans and a simple forest green shirt with a faded Jurassic Park logo, the ancient theater archive quiet except for the soft whir of the film reel. Dust floated in the beam of light, like a spotlight for them to dance, he loved that. It was something so simple, yet so whimsical.

On screen, a shark thrashed in the water. Jaws, a classic movie with a mechanical beast mimicking the real thing. However, unlike the real thing it malfunctioned constantly during filming. Built in freshwater, it corroded in saltwater, causing leaks and seizures which led to it sinking. Rather than ruining the film, Spielberg found it an artistic blessing in disguise, forcing him to adapt. The suspense created by hiding the broken prop, filming as if it’s the sharks point of view, is what made it the iconic film everybody knows and loves today. Just people desperately fighting to fix something broken and unpredictable.

Lucian studied with hazel green eyes, running a hand through short brown hair before he scribbled in his notebook, a yawn interrupting him. He had another audition tomorrow. Another chance to feel average when every word and movement he makes is picked apart like the prey of a vulture.

The door creaked open and Kai stepped in, shaking rain from his coat, the droplets flying off of him nearly in slow motion. He had this effortless presence, sharp features, unbounding energy, the kind of face that directors fought over, Lucian was not jealous at all. No sir. Not of his tan skin that glowed gold in the sunset nor his sandy blond hair that framed his face in gentle waves. And definitely not those striking silvery blue eyes, not at all.

“Still worshipping the past?” Kai asked, dropping into the seat beside him with a grin. “Most people stream the cleanedup remakes.”

Lucian shrugged. “Sorry, I don’t want to join the cult of remakes for the sake of holding onto an IP or making more money off of someone else’s hard work because they’re too stupid to make anything half as good on their own.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Things were better with flaws, now everything is perfect CGI, AI, whatever.”

Kai watched the screen for a moment, raising a brow in question. “You really believe that? That flaws make it better?”

“I know it.” Lucian says quietly as he turns back to the movie. “I watch these old films and I feel something. I want to embody this when I act but compared to the digital stuff these days I feel behind. It’s so hard to compete with a computer built to be perfect. You have to be perfect like it but I’m just… flawed.”

The words tasted bitter in his mouth. He’d been thinking about it more and more lately. At twenty-four, he still booked small roles, but the buzz always went to actors like Kai. Someone who carried themselves with confidence, magnetic the moment they entered the room. You couldn’t snap a bad picture of him if you tried.

Kai was quieter than usual, he watched the screen in companionable silence, waiting for the scene to end before he speaks, softly.

“You’re too hard on yourself. You’ve got real passion, you got the work ethic, you study and improve and most of us…” He trailed off, then forced a lighter tone. “Come on, rehearsal starts soon. Let’s run those scenes again, maybe I can get you to embody that feeling you want. You can watch this for the tenth time later.”

“It’s the seventeenth actually.” Lucian grins sheepishly.

Kai rolls his eyes. “Are you sure you’re not the one in a cult?”

Lucian shrugs. “Cult of good movies is one I can get behind.”

They left the archive together, stepping into the evening streets. The city moved with its usual quiet harmony. People walked without rushing, street preformed hit every note flawlessly. In the distance, a massive holographic billboard displayed an ad with an actor, long dead, endorsing a product. No one seemed bothered by how smooth everything had become, uncannily prefect.

Lucian shoved his hands in his pockets. “Sometimes I wonder what it was like when things could fail horribly. When a performance could bomb and you have to live with it, when grief lasted longer than a visit from the wellness consoler.”

Kai glanced at him sideways, something complicated flickering across his face. “Yeah, must’ve been intense.”

They walked in silence for a block, Lucian felt the familiar ache of not quite fitting in. Kai, as always, seemed to glide through the world.

At the theater door, Kai paused before they went inside. “Hey, Luci. After rehearsal… you wanna grab something to eat? None of that perfect nutrition stuff, like noodles or whatever.”

Lucian managed a small smile. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Inside the director called places. Kai stepped onto the stage and delivered lines with effortless grace, every line as if he had been studying it for decades. The cast murmured their approval, Lucian, coming in after him, felt every one of his small stumbles like spotlights. He pushed through anyway, chasing the raw emotion he felt from the old films, chasing something real in a world that had mostly moved past the need for that.

As the rehearsal wrapped, Lucian caught Kai watching him with an off, almost guilty expression. For just a moment, the easy confidence slipped, like a mask slipping off every so slightly because someone didn't quite tie is on tightly enough.

Lucian told himself that it was nothing, just the lights playing tricks. But the discomfort lingered, it was the first flaw he’s ever seen in Kai’s otherwise perfect performance as a human being.