Compatibility -Julian Larson as Maren and Logan Wright as Caelum
And Maren told him, “…if you really are mine…save me now. Fight for me. And save me.” - from the first book of Blackwater
Logan had known when he’d first auditioned that eventually he’d be pitted against Julian. Of course that had been back when he’d thought he might get a spot as a background extra or a guard or something. Now here he was, with Caelum Blackwater’s script in his hands. It wasn’t exactly what he’d been expecting.
Julian was across from him, sitting on a stool identical to his own. There was a table between them, and the actor’s sunglasses were on top, reflecting the light. Julian’s face was unreadable, his fingers laced together, hands lying on top of the script.
But neither of them would need it. This was a compatibility test, and when they’d told him it was mandatory Logan had nearly snorted. He knew he was compatible with Julian. That was the fucking problem. At least they didn’t have to talk, for the test or before it, and Logan looked everywhere but at the brunette.
He could practically feel Julian’s narrowed gaze, the unspeakable ‘what do you think you’re doing, Wright’ ringing in the air. It was oblivious to everyone else who ran around making sure the cameras were rolling and that the lights would dim appropriately, and Logan nearly got up a time or two before his pride got a grip and he sat a little straighter in his chair, glaring right back.
“All right.” The voice was clip, short, no nonsense, and Logan looked over as the last of the assistants scurried away. “We’re going to dim the lights so you can’t see us. Both of you know what part we’re pulling from - body language only please.” Body language was such a big part of the princes’ relationship, or so Logan had been told. Repeatedly.
He was pretty sure they were fucking, but he hadn’t seen it in the script and he wasn’t sure how to feel about that, regardless. Considering here he was, and there was Julian. Julian, who, without missing a beat, let his head drop as the lights snapped off. Julian, whose head rose slowly, eyes locked straight onto Logan’s.
The look in his eyes.. it was pained. Tortured. Like Julian was clinging to the edge of a cliff and he wasn’t sure if Logan would grab him when he fell. A lump rose in Logan’s throat so fast he almost choked, barely managing to stay silent as he read the words in those expressive eyes. If you really are mine…save me now.
The lump grew and he swallowed, eyes closing. He couldn’t look at him, couldn’t look at the agony there and pretend Julian was acting. Fight for me. And save me. He kept his eyes closed through the rest of it, back straight and hands trembling lightly on the table top. When the lights came back on, he jerked, sparkles dancing behind his eyelids.
Julian was already pushing himself up from the table, grabbing his glasses in a swift scoop and placing them on his face. Back behind just one of his many masks. “Good job.” A hand dropped itself on Logan’s shoulder, squeezed. “That was brilliant. Perfect."
Logan nodded, swiftly and tightly, before he uncurled his hands.
He grabbed the script on his way out. He still had a lot more to read.