"You kids want to hang around for the day?" My Dad asked over breakfast as he straightened his tie.

"Like, come to work with you?" I asked.

"Yeah, I can show you around the studio but I'll have to have Matt pick you around lunch, I'll be busy after that." He offered.

Dylan glanced over at me with the question all over his face. He was obviously very interested. Among other things I noticed about Dylan, he was wearing a white button up shirt today and he looked very nice. I love him.

"Uh, sure thing. Sounds fun." I agreed.

"Radical." Dylan grinned.

"We better get going then." He glanced at his watch. "I'm supposed to be running lines in about twenty minutes."

"Are you going to be...late?" I blinked and standing up slowly.

He laughed. "Maybe, but I'm too important for them to do anything about it."

He told it like a joke and I forced out a laugh because I didn't really get it. That might just be me and my paralyzing fear of letting other people down though. My Dad was confident, I had to hand it to him. Matt was still asleep with we left, I was informed that this was a common happenstance whenever he stayed over. I still didn't know how to feel about Matt however, but he was quickly forgotten when my dad's own personal taxi pulled up to the curb. To quote Dylan, radical.

The studios themselves were bustling with other people who were all talking either to other people or into headsets. Outside, they all resembled perfect rectangles, all tan in color, the only difference was the names on the doors. We walked around amazement as I recognized some of the more famous movie and show titles. There were at least five of my icons in this area right now. The thought alone made my knees weak.

"Here's my building." My dad directed, leading us towards his own identical tan building.

Inside it was dark, and there were props everywhere. We walked under a fake tree and past half of a house to a collection of rooms in the back. It didn't take long to spot the door with Daniel Grey's name on it.

"There's my dressing room, I left my lines in there yesterday on accident." He laughed.

"Grey!" An older man holding a clipboard shouted across the room. "It's about time."

He stomped over, looking casually pissed off (I got the impression it was an expression he wore often) and glared at the two of us. "Who are these kids? What are they doing on my set?"

His name tag read Parker Yells, appropriate. I could Dylan had seen it too and he looked over me with a very obviously suppressed smile. He wanted to made a pun so badly.

My dad patted my shoulder. "This is my daughter Allison and her boyfriend, I was just showing them around."

Mr. Yells squinted at him, he looked like he wanted to say something but didn't. "Fine, just be ready in twenty-five."

The man walked off, and my dad still seemed completely affected by it. He touched the shoulder of a passing intern holding a tray of donuts and glanced over at the two of us.

"Want one? They're free."

The intern frowned. "Actually they're- oh, Mr. Grey! Yes, go ahead."

I watched as she squirmed uncomfortably. "Uh no thank you."

He shrugged and took one. "Suit yourself."

"Actually Dad, I was hoping I could maybe talk to you about-" I started, but then he just... walked away?

"Let me show you some of the set, after all we've got thirty minutes." He offered.

"Didn't he say twenty-five?" Dylan asked.

"He'll do thirty for me. Trust me I'm the one who's pulling the weight."

He flashed a smile and suddenly I started realize... he was kind of a jerk. I squinted hard at him and the gears started turning in my mind as I tried to figure out what color he was. Green was trustworthiness, so no. Red was (to put it simply) reserved for dorks, so no. Purple? Insecurity, definitely not. He was on the uglier side... maybe... maybe dark yellow. Narcissistic and disregarding of other people's emotions. Yikes.

He started talking about the scenes he had filmed in this fake backyard, and how it was all fake even though it looked real. There were some cool fake blood splatters. I subconsciously started to tune it out.

When most people picture a panic attack, they think about crying and shaking and generally being terrified while being unable to control how you react to situations that cause extreme fear. This isn't wrong, but there are also many different ways to have a panic attack. My skin started to feel hot and tight and my dad's voice started to get too loud and I could no longer stand to hear it. My face never changed but it was like the outside of my body turned to stone while the inside got caught inside a whirlwind, my heart was pounding so fast and so our but there was nothing I could do about it. I can't control this.

"Do you mind if I go sit down?" I said weakly. "I'm not feeling well."

He stopped talking, thank God, any longer and I would've had to suppress the urge to tear my hair out. "Sure, you can hang in my dressing room."

Dylan kept sending worried looks my way but he knew better then to pry at it while my Dad was within earshot. He showed us inside, there was a chair and a counter with water and some snack pushed in a corner. Dylan politely pulled out the chair for me and I sat and put my face in my hands and just stared at my shoes for a little bit.

"You think you need... I don't know an ambulance or something?" My dad asked, concerned.

"No... just give me a bit and I'll be fine." I promised.

He sighed. "Well, there's water and food here if you need it. I'd better get going on my lines, I'll be back to check on you in an hour."

I just wanted him to leave honestly. The door clicked closed and then it was finally just me and Dylan. The dressing room was cold and that helped. I like a subtle hum of the air conditioner in the background.

"Are you okay?" Dylan asked.

"Just give me a minute." I whispered.

He nodded and kept his distance. I took a few minutes to just think for myself. Trying to wrap my mind around my emotions and breathe deeply. It was harder doing this and wearing a binder but I feel like it would be worse if I took it off.

"I don't feel so sure about this anymore." I said.

Dylan glanced up. "About what?"

"My dad. I kind of... I don't know. I have a horrible suspicion he's... I can only describe it as dark yellow."

Dylan frowned. "That doesn't sound nice."

"It isn't... usually. Or at least not in my experience." I folded my arms in front of my knees. "This has the large capacity to go very wrong."

Dylan did that thing again where he rubbed his thumbs over his knuckles. Along with his tongue which stuck out ever so slightly and his multicolored eyebrows furrowed. The face of a man who's deep in thought.

"Well, we've still got our car." He started. "We've still got our plan. You've already probably done a great deal of thinking about what would happen if things, "went wrong", how much damage are we thinking about here?"

I shrugged. "I suppose... it wouldn't be that bad. Worst case, we'd just be on the run again."

"If it makes you feel any better I've been looking at jobs around here too." He added. "After you fell asleep."

I gave him a playful questioning look. "Do you ever sleep?"

He just grinned. "Oh occasionally. Never on my boyfriend's safety concerns."

I blushed. I don't know when we were going to move past this 'ever bit of affection gets me flustered' phase but it sure was taking it's time. Dylan looked up at me and opened his mouth, but then hesitated and seemed to hold back.

"What?"

He glanced down. "Oh nothing. I just wondered if you wanted like, a hug or something but I mean some people don't like being touched when they're anxious."

"Go ahead. I'm better now." I assured, opening up my arms for invitation.

His lips opened up thinly and he stood up and practically threw himself at me. I let out a sincere oof, as he squeezed me tight. What a goof. What a complete and utter fluff ball. Have I mentioned I love him?

It was at that moment the door swung open again and a familiar face appeared. Matthew, looking as edgy as a dodecahedron, per usual. The cherry on top was the ripped skinny jeans. I wouldn't be surprised if he played the electric guitar and had a different natural hair color.

"I'm here to pick you two up for lunch, how's In-n-Out sound?"

"What's that?" Dylan asked.

Matthew smirked. "Welcome to California."