"Wait. Wait. Not that one." Tanya rummaged Tristan's closet again as Whifler was still not satisfied with the 5 outfits that Tristan tried on.
"Damn it Whifler! I'm tired of changing!" Tristan turned his gaze to Tanya.
"Tanya, that's the last. Whether he'll like it or not, that's the LAST one!"
"No! If that dress wasn't good enough. Change it again." Whifler opposed that goggled Tristan.
"WHAT?! That's too much!"
"Tristan... For every single job, shoot, and commercial you'll have, you need to look stunning and stand out! Looks is all you have... If someone will overshadow you, believe me, or not, you'll be replaced in a snap. So... Impressed those who hired you even in the way you outfit yourself. Do you get what I mean?" Whifler explained that caused Tristan to sigh.
"Alright." Tristan didn't complain anymore. Whifler was just maintaining his sister's status and primacy... So, he understood it.
After 2 more fittings, Whifler was finally satisfied with the red mixed with orange and yellow, one-sleeve, above-the-knee dress that fit perfectly in his petite figure.
Whifler looked at Tristan from head to toe.
Tristan's beauty was flaming just like his fire-like attire. Whifler smiled and then picked up the scarlet color block heels, with ankle straps that were decorated with mini red crystals aligned together.
"Put this on," Whifler told him. Tristan quickly wore the heels and stood properly to show his overall ensembles to Whifler.
Whifler smiled once again, very contented in Tristan's look. "Yes. Excellent! Come on. We'll be late."
"Heh? Wait a sec! I'll just retouch his makeup!" Tanya immediately got her foundation and a mini palette, then tapped Tristan's face using her brush.
"Okay. All done! Let's go." Tanya smiled.
They all went outside, Trish was in the living room having her brunch. It was around 11 am, and she just woke up.
She stared at Tristan in astonishment.
"Wow. You're more beautiful than me."
"Beautiful my ass. Heal faster so that I can stop wearing annoying dresses, like this." Tristan narrowed his eyes, unamused.
"Why? It looks good on you," Trish teased with a serious expression on her face. Tristan just rolled his eyes.
"I might start questioning my own sexuality if this will last longer," he mumbled to himself.
They all looked at the woman as she suddenly popped up to the door. Trish's mood became sour, and Tristan's eyes averted... It was Sharrie, their mother.
Sharrie was confused while looking at everyone. "Where are you going?"
Whifler bowed as respect, then stood up properly. "Tristan has a fashion shoot at Zendaya Mall"
"Oh, okay," Sharrie replied to Whifler as she walked inside and dropped her bag on the couch.
"How are you?" Sharrie asked Trish when she came closer to her, but she just received a cold look from her precious daughter.
"Mom. Aren't you going to apologize to Tristan?" Sharrie's forehead wrinkled at Trish's question.
"Apologize for what?"
"For accusing him and throwing hurtful words at him before! Now he was proved innocent, didn't he deserve an apology?" Trish bravely countered at her mom.
Sharrie just raised her right brow.
"Why would I? Besides, he was partly at fault, too. He wasn't being careful. If he just ignored her, none of it will happen... There's nothing to apologize for what I said. My scolding was on point."
Sharrie turned her gaze to Tristan.
"And, you too, young man... Next time, be mindful of your actions. Don't frustrate everyone with your clumsiness!"
All of them were stupefied at Sharrie's remark. Even Trish gasped in complete disbelief. She couldn't believe it. Their mother's pride was way too high to reach.
Tristan just lowered his head. Surprisingly, he didn't feel any hurt anymore. Or perhaps, he just became immune to it. He was tired from battling the pain.
Tristan learned to hold back and comfort himself. If he doesn't, who would be there to do it for him? When his sister will fully recover and he will be useless again, who would stand for him if that day comes? No one but himself.
Yet, the eagerness to acquire his mother's recognition was still there. Even though he got numb at everything, deep within him, he was still longing for her love and care... Now, his only question is... When will he receive all that he longed for?
Tristan lifted his head and coldly looked at his mother. "YES... Mom."
Sharrie flinched at Tristan's sarcastic tone. She got irritated and was about to scold him but she was cut off as Tristan turned his attention to Whifler.
"We should not be late. I don't want to cause another SHAMEFUL act." He told Whifler, without any glimpse of emotion on his face.
They were all confused about Tristan. Even his mother didn't know how to respond, uncertain if that sardonic statement was meant for her or not.
Tristan looked at his mother and slightly bowed to show respect.
"We're leaving," he said then stood straight and left. Whifler and Tanya also bowed at Sharrie—who was still dumbfounded—then followed Tristan.
Whifler and Tanya quietly got into the car. Whifler glanced at Tristan who was sitting in the backseat and was blankly staring outside through the window.
He knew, he wore that mask again. That emotionless mask hid what he truly felt. Whifler was proud of his endurance but also pitied him as he believed Tristan didn't deserve any of his sufferings.
Tristan is strong and yet, fragile...
Whifler tapped Tanya's shoulder whose body was now slightly twisted while staring worriedly at Tristan, confused about whether to comfort him or not.
She gave an asking-look to Whifler for the tap on her shoulder that he did.
"Give him space," Whifler responded, then started the engine (Whifler is the driver today).
Tanya paused for a moment, then sat properly and secured herself with the seatbelt.
Tanya may not fully understand Tristan's feelings since she had a wonderful upbringing, but she knew how awful it was to be neglected.
Meanwhile, at Trish's house—in the living room—Trish and Sharrie were still confounded.
Did he change a bit? Or was it his real personality? Sharrie was vexed with those questions and her speculations. She indeed didn't know her son that well.
Sharrie's head ached for thinking such nonsense, so she just shrugged her thoughts off about Tristan—she didn't really care about him that much, anyway—and looked at Trish.
"I arranged an appointment with another doctor for a second opinion about your condition. I don't trust your current doctor anymore, your recovery is taking so long!" Sharrie irritatedly told but she paused and was confused at Trish's sudden sneer.
"You're caring about me too much, why not do it to Tristan, too?" Trish looked directly at her mother while her fist was closed.
Trish's eyes weren't glaring but also not soft. It was just enough to convey the strong emotion she kept for quite some time.
"What?" Sharrie's brows were now knitted in bewilderment.
"You're not treating us equally"
Sharrie snickered at what her daughter said.
"Of course, because you are sick! And he was completely fine."
"No, Mom. You just haven't been a good mother to him"
Sharrie was taken aback as Trish expressed those words fiercely.
"What did you say?"
"I said... YOU just haven't been a GOOD MOTHER to HIM!"
Sharrie instantly raised her hand and was about to crash it onto Trish's face but she paused and closed her open palm instead.
Sharrie's eyelids were slightly shaking in anger. Exasperation was clearly seen on her face. Aside from being surprised, she also didn't think Trish will talk back at her in that tone and attitude.
The kind, polite and obedient daughter she once knew vanished in a snap.
"Did you forget who you were talking to, Trish?"
Sharrie furiously asked as she rested down her hand and then clasped her knuckles, unamused at Trish's disrespectful approach.
"I am your mother!" Sharrie closed her eyes and took a deep breath, she was holding back herself.
"Please. Go to your room before I can do anything to you" Sharrie warned, massaging her temple.
Trish unlocked her wheelchair and turned away, she halted and slightly looked over her shoulder.
"I hope, you'll realize it sooner," She told, then headed to her room.
Sharrie flopped to the sofa and groaned.
'God, what's happening to my children?'
.
.
Concurrently, Melissa tiptoed as she saw Summer sitting at the corner of a coffee shop while solemnly staring outside.
The coffee shop was closed and was exclusively rented by Summer's manager to have some alone-time moment for her since she was shooting inside a mall, the Zendaya Mall.
In case you don't know, Summer is a huge fan of drinks like coffee although she's so bad at making one. So, the coffee shop is the most comfortable place she would be.
"Miss... SUM-MER!" Melissa surprised her that jolted her up. Summer hilariously gaped as she looked at Melissa's face for a second.
"Ghad, Melissa! You startled me!" Summer sighed, holding her chest.
Melissa just giggled.
"I'm sorry, Miss Summer... But anyway, are you okay? You seemed so off"
Summer averted her eyes at Melissa's worrying look.
"Oh. Uhm. Y-Yes"
Melissa's brows knitted. "Are you sure?"
Summer sighed and shyly looked at Melissa.
"A-Ahm... Honestly, no... I—uh... I saw her everywhere"
Melissa confusedly stared at Summer's flushed face. "Saw, who?"
"Trish... S-She's everywhere." Summer innocently remarked with a muddled expression on her face, Melissa was also puzzled at what she said.
"Huh?" Melissa's eyes stuck on the corner, thinking.
"Uh. Yes. Me too, Ms. Summer... I saw Ms. Trish everywhere"
Summer's face brightened, truly glad that she wasn't the only one insanely seeing Trish everywhere, and hoping it was REALLY her.
"Are you serious?"
"Yeah... I saw her on the billboard, in magazines, and in commercials. Uhm. Her posters were also in some stores."
Summer's eyes narrowed at her reply and unamusedly stared at Melissa.
Melissa just literally slammed her hopes down!
"That's not what I mean... She's everywhere... Like literally EVERYWHERE! I saw her a lot this day... I saw her shopping, eating at the restaurants, giving flyers, wearing school uniform, I even saw her in the cashier!" Summer messed her hair in befuddlement.
"I'm confused... Wherever my sight lands, I see her! Damn." She added then rested her head on top of the table.
Melissa just blinked in perplexity, looking at Summer's unexplainable expression on her face.
"Excuse me, Miss Summer." They both looked at the staff as she came into the coffee shop. She smiled politely while hugging an orange, legal-size clear book.
"Are you ready?" The staff asked. Melissa turned her head in Summer's direction, waiting for her reply.
Summer just nodded, then dazedly followed the staff on the set.
Melissa stared at Summer from a distance, observing her movements and mood.
'Yeah... She's obviously not ready yet', Melissa sighed.
.
.
.
"CUT!!"
The Director shouted while massaging the bridge of his nose. He was genuinely infuriated but he still managed to stay calm and control his temper.
How many times did they retake the scene they were currently shooting again? 5 times? 10 times? He wasn't sure. Summer frequently forgot her lines or did her acting wrong, they were stuck in one scene for almost 3 hours now.
Summer is a focused and heedful actress. She rarely retakes too much in one scene... So, this was indeed unusual to the crew.
The director looked at Summer after a deep sigh escaped from his mouth. He picked the megaphone up and placed it near to his lips.
"What's wrong, Summer?" The director asked.
Summer fiddled her finger in nervousness, then bowed. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I won't do any mistake again!"
"You should read your script again, then we'll continue when you're ready. Let's have a 5 minutes break first." The director announced.
Summer bit her lower lip, guilty at the inconvenience she caused. Melissa went to Summer, then handed a bottle of water to her and tapped her sweat on the forehead with a tissue.
"I don't like this!" Summer complained underneath her breath after drinking the water which Melissa gave her.
"It's alright, Miss Summer. Just have some rest and refresh your mind. Review your scripts and familiarized it well" Melissa said which made Summer's eyes widen.
"Wait! The script. Where is my script?" Summer restlessly searched for the script.
She went inside the coffee shop again and looked for it under the table, on the floor, and even on the bar counter.
Melissa opened her square shoulder bag and pulled out a violet clear book. Yes, it was the script.
She called Summer several times but she didn't listen. She was busy searching around the coffee shop.
"Miss Summer!" Melissa loudly called again, but for heaven's sake, Summer wasn't still paying attention to her.
Melissa took a deep sigh and walked toward her. She grabbed Summer's hand and stretched it out to put the script on her palm. Summer just dumbfoundedly stared at her.
"You gave it to me, you forgot?" Melissa told her. Summer dazedly looked at the clear book in her hand.
"Ah. I did? Sorry" Summer responded then sat down on one of the chairs and opened the clear book. She started to read the script.
Melissa sighed again for the nth time, worried about Summer's unusual behavior.
"Summer" Melissa turned her gaze at Tristan who just popped up beside her, holding a small glittery purplish-red paper bag.
Summer snapped her head when she heard his familiar voice and hitched up as soon as she saw him.
Staring at Tristan's stunning beauty, Summer felt her heart skip a beat... She couldn't understand it, she didn't know why... Tristan was f*ckin' glowing in her eyes. He was too bright... Like, he was actually surrounded by thousands of fireflies and a flaming fire beneath him.
"Damn" She mumbled, gobsmacked at what she was seeing. "I'm... Hallucinating realistically, aren't I?"
Tristan's brows furrowed at Summer, he was wondering about her reaction.
"Hallucinating?"
"No. Miss Summer. Ms. Trish was actually here" Melissa told that confused Tristan even more.
"What's going on?" Tristan whispered at Melissa in bemusement. Melissa just slightly shrugged her shoulders in response.
Summer's eyes broadened at what Melissa replied to her.
"Y-You're real?!" She exclaimed, looking at Tristan.
"Uh. Yes? I'm real... I had also a shoot here on the third floor and I just finished my shoot. I saw you so I bought a gift for you, uhm... Just to thank you for helping me against Gale's claim." Tristan answered, still baffled at Summer's weirdness...
Although she's already weird, she was honestly weirder today.
"Oh my God!" Summer swiftly covered her gaped mouth and mad red cheeks with her hand.
"Then why the hell you're glowing just now? You're f*ckin' sparkling—" Summer stepped back, with her face still in shock.
"Restroom... Restroom... I need to go to the restroom!" Summer immediately ran outside, leaving Tristan in bewilderment.
Tristan snapped his head to look in Melissa's direction while his brows were still knitted.
"Is she sick?"
Melissa just scratched her head, uncertain what to answer because even she, wasn't sure what exactly is wrong with Summer.
"Lack of sleep... Probably?" She replied.