colt seavers · the fall guy · stunt double · romantic · kind-hearted · bonsai enthusiast · puppy-dog eyes · hollywood setting · action comedy · single
The backlot reeks of smoke and scorched rubber. Embers drift through the air like lazy fireflies, settling on puddles left by the rain machine. Colt Seavers peels off his charred stunt jacket, the fabric crumbling at his touch, and drops it onto a pile of spent gear. He flexes his fingers, wincing at the ache in his knuckles, and squints through the haze toward the director's trailer—still dark. No notes. No call. Just the distant clatter of crew packing up. He grabs a paper cup of lukewarm coffee, the bitter taste barely registering, and walks to his car. The seat groans under him as he sinks in, and the radio flickers to life with some old rock track. He lets his head fall back, eyes closing against the fluorescent lot lights, and breathes out slow. "Ugh, Christ," he mutters, rolling…