Real Person // Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock // When the Day is Done
Title: When the Day is Done
Fandom: Real People
Characters: Keanu Reeves & Sandra Bullock
Prompt: 05. Day
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,659
Summary: I really have no clue what this story is about.
Author's Note: Ah, I don't know them. This is just how I think it should be.
This story really has no plot, or meaning, but I like it.
His smile appears, glittering and fleeting, before it disappears. He takes a last drag on his cigarette, his tongue flicking at the filter. Good to the last smoke. The boy balancing on his shoulders kicks his ribcage and he winces. Bret stops the camera just as it records Keanu’s pained face.
“Matt, you’re done. Let Keanu grab a fresh death stick.” Bret grins cheekily.
The second Matt’s weight is gone, relieving Keanu, the pressure is back in the form of an 80 pound boy. Keanu attempts to stand before a skinny, hairy leg flies over his shoulder. Yet he finds himself three quarters up with sticky fingers digging into his shoulders, clinging with hopes of a ride.
“In a minute, sport,” Keanu promises, and the hands disappointedly slide down his back.
Kids think adults are human playgrounds. They’re the swing that tosses you in the air, the merry-go-round that twirls you until you’re dizzy, and the jungle gym for you to scale like a monkey. New adults in a child’s life are the equivalent of Chuck E. Cheese. There is something special about an adult who is not your parent. Perhaps because they play without the added strings of an order to eat broccoli or brush teeth afterwards.
Keanu stretches a few times to refresh a body stiff after sitting for so long. Extracting a cigarette from his pack but not lighting it, he waves off an invitation to join them in the house, where the kids are already causing a ruckus inside. He accepts the beer Sandra offers him, and they stand there alone on the porch. Keanu can hear laughter from the open window; the hum of the dishwasher, the squeal of kids as they amuse themselves. All he can see is Sandra.
It hasn’t been long, merely a month since they saw each other last, but his mind stretched it into six months, a year. Fondness does that. A hour turns into three, a day into a week. Keanu would not vocally admit that he missed her, but he would smile whenever she looked at him. Didn’t that convey enough?
She wants to tell him that they played a good set tonight, that she likes his hair this length. But she sips her beer and listens to the parents yell at their respective kids to settle down. He’s here next to her, a foot or two separating, and yet he’s in the next town. Sandra had considered the possibility of awkward silence when distance and time set them apart. Without the fake bus cranked for another shoot behind them, a spread of unhealthy but delicious food in front of them, what would they talk of? She doesn’t want to talk shop, but her life had been nothing but filming for the past two years. She wants to bring back that casual banter they shared, but isn’t sure how to go about it. Sandra takes another drink.
The unlit cigarette is posed in his fingers. His hand trembles with the crave for nicotine. He scratches his head and slides the cigarette behind his ear. Very suave and Sandra smiles at it.
“Listen,” she begins, but the word is no sooner pass her lips than the screen door bangs open and three kids pour out, each one louder than the one before.
“You’re taking us to the park!” the oldest one yells; his name has escaped Keanu.
“Ask them, don’t demand!” Carrie’s voice carries from the kitchen. Keanu and Sandra look at one another and shrug. They aren’t communicating very well by themselves, perhaps three anxious children can spur some sort of conversation.
“Let’s go; it’ll be dark soon enough.” Keanu throws up an arm to gesture the kids to get going, and is met with the little one leaping onto his arm like a monkey. He dangles there, his sneakered feet mere inches above the ground. Keanu, seeing that the kid isn’t going to give up in his dreams of a ride, shakes the boy off his arm before squatting.
Keanu has the boy on his shoulders and Sandra holds the hand of the girl while Matt (yes?) runs ahead of them. They call to him when he disappears in the dark. His washed-out jean shorts is the only part of him that stands out in the pitch black. This part of the suburbs, street lights come once a block, and they are usually swarmed by various bugs attracted to the glow. A fear settles heavy on Keanu. The black sky cloaks invisible monsters in the dark, those hiding behind cars and between the tall trees. He hooks his hands around Andy’s, at least that’s what he’s calling him until he’s told otherwise, ankles, minimizing their trembling. Though Keanu is an adult and technically the support in this human totem pole, he is nevertheless relieved to have people so close. Andy is about five years old and clenches Keanu’s hair in his little fists. The two unknowingly bond over their fear. Keanu hopes Andy can control his bladder if he gets scared.
The playground comes into sight but it doesn’t settle Keanu’s nerves. The swings creak eerily though he can’t feel a wind, and the top of the slide, designed to look like a castle’s tower, looks ominous in the dark. Andy monkeys down his back and joins the others, his fears gone in the sight of fun. The kids scamper, swing and slide, savoring this adventure, an empty playground. Sandra looks at her watch to start timing their play while Keanu glances behind them at the empty baseball field, unable to lose the paranoid lump at the bottom of his stomach.
“Are you okay?” she doesn’t want to say anything, but the film of sweat beading at Keanu’s hairline is starting to make her nervous. Sandra feels as if she’s in a remake of Final Destination and Keanu’s about to spurt out a prediction of their deaths. His fear of the dark is nothing new to her, but the look in his eye is taking it to the next level.
“Fine,” he reassures her. His hand fumbles for the cigarette behind his ear, but in his haste it tumbles into the grass, hiding in the dark. Taking it as a sign, Keanu shoves his hands in his jean pockets. Sandra bends down, her fingers swiping across the pointed blades of grass until they touch the rough stick. She picks it up and, straightening, hands it back to him. “Thanks,” he mumbles lighting up.
“Any new projects on the horizon?” as much as she hates to admit it, all Sandra has is shop talk.
Keanu takes a drag as he considers the four scripts collecting dust on the corner of his desk. With the music taking the wheel in his life, acting’s in the backseat for the time being.
“I’m pretty much doing music now. You?”
“I have a few auditions lined up. Nothing I‘m particularly psyched about.”
Silence prevails for the next fifteen minutes. During the brief time, which stretches like eternity for the two, stars become more apparent in the sky, Keanu finishes his cigarette, and the kids exhaust themselves on the playground. When Sandra cups her hands around her mouth and yells that it’s time to leave, they whine, but a closer inspection reveals beet red faces and sweat soaked hair. The walk back home is a slow trudge; Keanu imagines the silent thank-you they’ll get from Carrie for tiring her overactive children.
Finally back at the house, Keanu hangs back in the street with Sandra. The kids throw back their hands in vague waves as they clamor up the porch into the house. Bret steps out briefly as he opens the door for them. He begins to motion for them to come in, then realizes that they have chosen to stay outside for a reason. The door bangs behind him, echoing in the empty street.
Keanu’s eyes adjusted to the dark some time ago, and he watches a stray cat skulk in the neighbor’s yard. Granted, the darkness is no more comforting now than earlier, but at least the lump in his stomach has subsided somewhat. He turns to face Sandra. Her keys are in her hands and she’s flipping through her key chains one by one. A miniature flip flop, car keys, house key, a small plastic case with a picture of her family slipped inside. She is very fixated on passing through each one over and over again. The day is over and he can’t stand that they haven’t had one decent conversation. What happened to them?
“What happened to us?” she asks the question, reading his mind, and in a way sparking their old chemistry. “I don’t know what to say to you. I hate that. I want to talk to you, I want to fill you in on my life, but I don’t know where to begin or if you care. I know you care. I hate doubting it.”
“I know.”
“You know what? Let’s just talk. Right here. Right now. Tell me what’s going on with you.” Sandra plops on the ground, tucking her legs in Indian style. He looms over her. She pats the asphalt beside her before leaning back on her hands, elbows bent.
“I have to get back home. Jennifer’s waiting for me.” there is nothing he wouldn’t give to sit down next to Sandra and regurgitate the latest mishaps in his life, both on and off the screen. But it is only getting later and he had promised Jennifer he would come back after they ate at Bret’s house. Today is their window, and it had taken them far too long to come together. “Another time?”
Sandra rises from the ground, dusting off her butt and not bothering to hide her disappointment. He bites his bottom lip before it lets out a promise he can’t keep.
“Yeah. I’ll see you when I see you.”
Fandom: Real People
Characters: Keanu Reeves & Sandra Bullock
Prompt: 05. Day
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,659
Summary: I really have no clue what this story is about.
Author's Note: Ah, I don't know them. This is just how I think it should be.
This story really has no plot, or meaning, but I like it.
His smile appears, glittering and fleeting, before it disappears. He takes a last drag on his cigarette, his tongue flicking at the filter. Good to the last smoke. The boy balancing on his shoulders kicks his ribcage and he winces. Bret stops the camera just as it records Keanu’s pained face.
“Matt, you’re done. Let Keanu grab a fresh death stick.” Bret grins cheekily.
The second Matt’s weight is gone, relieving Keanu, the pressure is back in the form of an 80 pound boy. Keanu attempts to stand before a skinny, hairy leg flies over his shoulder. Yet he finds himself three quarters up with sticky fingers digging into his shoulders, clinging with hopes of a ride.
“In a minute, sport,” Keanu promises, and the hands disappointedly slide down his back.
Kids think adults are human playgrounds. They’re the swing that tosses you in the air, the merry-go-round that twirls you until you’re dizzy, and the jungle gym for you to scale like a monkey. New adults in a child’s life are the equivalent of Chuck E. Cheese. There is something special about an adult who is not your parent. Perhaps because they play without the added strings of an order to eat broccoli or brush teeth afterwards.
Keanu stretches a few times to refresh a body stiff after sitting for so long. Extracting a cigarette from his pack but not lighting it, he waves off an invitation to join them in the house, where the kids are already causing a ruckus inside. He accepts the beer Sandra offers him, and they stand there alone on the porch. Keanu can hear laughter from the open window; the hum of the dishwasher, the squeal of kids as they amuse themselves. All he can see is Sandra.
It hasn’t been long, merely a month since they saw each other last, but his mind stretched it into six months, a year. Fondness does that. A hour turns into three, a day into a week. Keanu would not vocally admit that he missed her, but he would smile whenever she looked at him. Didn’t that convey enough?
She wants to tell him that they played a good set tonight, that she likes his hair this length. But she sips her beer and listens to the parents yell at their respective kids to settle down. He’s here next to her, a foot or two separating, and yet he’s in the next town. Sandra had considered the possibility of awkward silence when distance and time set them apart. Without the fake bus cranked for another shoot behind them, a spread of unhealthy but delicious food in front of them, what would they talk of? She doesn’t want to talk shop, but her life had been nothing but filming for the past two years. She wants to bring back that casual banter they shared, but isn’t sure how to go about it. Sandra takes another drink.
The unlit cigarette is posed in his fingers. His hand trembles with the crave for nicotine. He scratches his head and slides the cigarette behind his ear. Very suave and Sandra smiles at it.
“Listen,” she begins, but the word is no sooner pass her lips than the screen door bangs open and three kids pour out, each one louder than the one before.
“You’re taking us to the park!” the oldest one yells; his name has escaped Keanu.
“Ask them, don’t demand!” Carrie’s voice carries from the kitchen. Keanu and Sandra look at one another and shrug. They aren’t communicating very well by themselves, perhaps three anxious children can spur some sort of conversation.
“Let’s go; it’ll be dark soon enough.” Keanu throws up an arm to gesture the kids to get going, and is met with the little one leaping onto his arm like a monkey. He dangles there, his sneakered feet mere inches above the ground. Keanu, seeing that the kid isn’t going to give up in his dreams of a ride, shakes the boy off his arm before squatting.
Keanu has the boy on his shoulders and Sandra holds the hand of the girl while Matt (yes?) runs ahead of them. They call to him when he disappears in the dark. His washed-out jean shorts is the only part of him that stands out in the pitch black. This part of the suburbs, street lights come once a block, and they are usually swarmed by various bugs attracted to the glow. A fear settles heavy on Keanu. The black sky cloaks invisible monsters in the dark, those hiding behind cars and between the tall trees. He hooks his hands around Andy’s, at least that’s what he’s calling him until he’s told otherwise, ankles, minimizing their trembling. Though Keanu is an adult and technically the support in this human totem pole, he is nevertheless relieved to have people so close. Andy is about five years old and clenches Keanu’s hair in his little fists. The two unknowingly bond over their fear. Keanu hopes Andy can control his bladder if he gets scared.
The playground comes into sight but it doesn’t settle Keanu’s nerves. The swings creak eerily though he can’t feel a wind, and the top of the slide, designed to look like a castle’s tower, looks ominous in the dark. Andy monkeys down his back and joins the others, his fears gone in the sight of fun. The kids scamper, swing and slide, savoring this adventure, an empty playground. Sandra looks at her watch to start timing their play while Keanu glances behind them at the empty baseball field, unable to lose the paranoid lump at the bottom of his stomach.
“Are you okay?” she doesn’t want to say anything, but the film of sweat beading at Keanu’s hairline is starting to make her nervous. Sandra feels as if she’s in a remake of Final Destination and Keanu’s about to spurt out a prediction of their deaths. His fear of the dark is nothing new to her, but the look in his eye is taking it to the next level.
“Fine,” he reassures her. His hand fumbles for the cigarette behind his ear, but in his haste it tumbles into the grass, hiding in the dark. Taking it as a sign, Keanu shoves his hands in his jean pockets. Sandra bends down, her fingers swiping across the pointed blades of grass until they touch the rough stick. She picks it up and, straightening, hands it back to him. “Thanks,” he mumbles lighting up.
“Any new projects on the horizon?” as much as she hates to admit it, all Sandra has is shop talk.
Keanu takes a drag as he considers the four scripts collecting dust on the corner of his desk. With the music taking the wheel in his life, acting’s in the backseat for the time being.
“I’m pretty much doing music now. You?”
“I have a few auditions lined up. Nothing I‘m particularly psyched about.”
Silence prevails for the next fifteen minutes. During the brief time, which stretches like eternity for the two, stars become more apparent in the sky, Keanu finishes his cigarette, and the kids exhaust themselves on the playground. When Sandra cups her hands around her mouth and yells that it’s time to leave, they whine, but a closer inspection reveals beet red faces and sweat soaked hair. The walk back home is a slow trudge; Keanu imagines the silent thank-you they’ll get from Carrie for tiring her overactive children.
Finally back at the house, Keanu hangs back in the street with Sandra. The kids throw back their hands in vague waves as they clamor up the porch into the house. Bret steps out briefly as he opens the door for them. He begins to motion for them to come in, then realizes that they have chosen to stay outside for a reason. The door bangs behind him, echoing in the empty street.
Keanu’s eyes adjusted to the dark some time ago, and he watches a stray cat skulk in the neighbor’s yard. Granted, the darkness is no more comforting now than earlier, but at least the lump in his stomach has subsided somewhat. He turns to face Sandra. Her keys are in her hands and she’s flipping through her key chains one by one. A miniature flip flop, car keys, house key, a small plastic case with a picture of her family slipped inside. She is very fixated on passing through each one over and over again. The day is over and he can’t stand that they haven’t had one decent conversation. What happened to them?
“What happened to us?” she asks the question, reading his mind, and in a way sparking their old chemistry. “I don’t know what to say to you. I hate that. I want to talk to you, I want to fill you in on my life, but I don’t know where to begin or if you care. I know you care. I hate doubting it.”
“I know.”
“You know what? Let’s just talk. Right here. Right now. Tell me what’s going on with you.” Sandra plops on the ground, tucking her legs in Indian style. He looms over her. She pats the asphalt beside her before leaning back on her hands, elbows bent.
“I have to get back home. Jennifer’s waiting for me.” there is nothing he wouldn’t give to sit down next to Sandra and regurgitate the latest mishaps in his life, both on and off the screen. But it is only getting later and he had promised Jennifer he would come back after they ate at Bret’s house. Today is their window, and it had taken them far too long to come together. “Another time?”
Sandra rises from the ground, dusting off her butt and not bothering to hide her disappointment. He bites his bottom lip before it lets out a promise he can’t keep.
“Yeah. I’ll see you when I see you.”