Bonus Chapter: Part 7
**Bonus Chapter: Part 7**
***Lights! Camera! Action! ***
“All right, bud. Just pretend that you’re sleeping,” Haroun said as soon as the tape rolled in, Friso began to breathe slowly and made snoring noises to make himself appear that he was fast asleep. As much as the director wanted to make a facepalm since the scene was a failure at its first take, he didn’t since he found that scene adorable. He made a note to tell the editor to mute it since he didn’t want to ruin the authenticity he and Zhen were looking for.
“Okay, steady… you can wake up now,” he directed, and not a moment later, the child twitched, rose from the bed and stretched with a yawn as if he just woke up from bed. What a natural actor!
“Okay… now start doing what you do first thing in the morning. Pretend that we’re not here.”
Being the bright and smart child he was, Friso followed Haroun’s words and stretched once more before starting to look around. It lasted more than a minute, and the crew began to panic about why he was acting that way. “Where’s mama or dada?” he then asked, looking at the camera.
“Cut!” Haroun ordered and the camera operators stopped recording. “What’s wrong, Friso?” he asked in a gentle voice. The child might have been confused about what to do next, and he didn’t want to frighten him. Kids could get easily upset with adults being disappointed in them.
“Mama or dada?” the child asked again with his index finger on his chin.
“Mama or dada?” the director repeated the question, his brain going in shambles.
“Yes.” Friso nodded. “Mama or dada.”
“Erm…” everyone fell silent for a moment, clueless about what the young man meant. They began to run their thoughts, especially Haroun. Each was finding ideas from the child’s words. Did he want his mother and father to be present during the shooting?
“Mama or dada comes to greet Friso good morning!”
“Oh, gosh. I’m sorry!” Allison suddenly entered the conversation, stepping beside Haroun. “It's usually either Hades or me, or both of us greeting him with a good morning kiss when he wakes up…” she paused and leaned close to him, whispering in his ear: “He cries when he doesn’t see us.”
“I see, Mrs. de Vries. It’s all right.” The director nodded understandably then asked: “Is it okay if we roll you in the scene?”
“Much obliged.” The doting mother nodded excitedly.
“Awesome,” Haroun said with a smile spreading on his lips and they began to discuss some additional details and dialogue on the scene. “Okay, Friso. We’re gonna pretend that you’re sleeping again. Your mama’s coming this time. Is that okay?” he turned to the young boy.
“Was Friso not doing good in playing pretend?” the boy asked with his doe-like grey eyes grasping a hiccup of the fear of failure and disappointment. Haroun understood this kind of fear since Friso was at the age that’d crave constant love and attention. Disappointing adults, who were keen figures that they look up to, especially their parents was an absolute no-no for them.
“No, no! You did great, buddy!” he denied, gently shaking his head to comfort the young man who was close to crying, his cheeks puffing and eyes reddening in contempt. “You helped us how to make things go better,” he said, walking near the bed and squatting down to meet the child’s gaze.
“Also, Friso…” he paused for a while, thinking about the next words he was about to say. “It’s okay if you don’t snore, my guy. You’re already good with closing your eyes.”
“But I thought it was gonna make things look better,” Friso said innocently. What a thoughtful child!
“You’re already a natural,” Haroun replied. Little did he know that he made someone’s day.
“Scene 1, take 2. Lights, camera, action!” the clapper was snapped and in a nanosecond, the tape rolled in once again. Friso, now more motivated to participate in playing in the shoot, rehearsed what he had to do. Remembering deep into his mind what the director told him about being a natural, he closed his and adjusted his breath just as how he observed his parents did whenever he caught sight of them being in deep sleep.
He was an intelligent child and could easily catch on to everything, even observe specifics that adults could not. But that didn’t mean that he was perceptive enough to comprehend that what they were doing was for a television show. He did not even know how humans could fit on a flat screen, or why a drawn cat could move and fail to chase a small mouse, and firmly believe in the existence of the tooth fairy. He was still a child full of wonder about the certainties and uncertainties in the world. A small fish in a large and wide tank. He possessed profound innocence, but the intelligence that he inherited from his parents would soon eliminate it.
Amidst the sight of the darkness, Friso began to inhale, holding in his breath for a good moment before exhaling slowly. It was how his dad breathed when he had napped on his office’s sofa. The boy sometimes found it funny seeing his father’s abdomen rise and fall at a turtle’s pace since there were times that he’d suddenly snort, which was an unexpected sight to see from a large, brooding man such as Hades himself.
Friso waited for a while longer before opening his eyes when he heard Haroun that he could get up. The sun’s soft rays hit his face as he took off the blanket from his face and rose for a stretch, like how he would usually do on a quiet Saturday morning. Earlier, he had been panicking about what to do with this game, but after the short break and the director’s encouraging words, he was now confident and adamant about playing his role.
He held his small, chubby paws together and raise his arms for a good stretch. He admired his father very much for being tall and wanted to be of the man’s height someday when he grew up. He once heard from Richard that he could sprout quickly by stretching first thing in the morning—and he made it a habit.
“Good morning, mama!” he enthusiastically chirped to his mother as soon as he turned his face and saw the red-headed beauty sauntering towards him.
“Good morning, my little love,” his mother greeted back softly as she sat down on the edge of the bed to kiss his forehead and wrap him in a warm embrace. As oxytocin began gushing in his bloodstream, the child’s cheeks tugged, pulling the side of his lips upward for a smile. His mother tended to have this earnest presence that made him feel he was home. His father would often time embrace him too, and his buff arms always gave Friso the sense of security he needed.
He grabbed the fabric of his blanket and pushed it aside, and they proceeded to do his kiddie morning rituals. It was essentially recreating what he usually did to start his day, he got to fix his already tidy bed, brush his teeth, wash his face, and take a short bath. Everything else went smoothly and the shooting progressed only less than 5 retakes.
“How do I look, mama?” Friso asked as he raised his arms and twirled to show off the outfit that he decided to wear. The crew melted at the sight of the child’s giggly expression, such cuteness was illegal!
“You look great, honey!” Allison complimented, fixing the ruffled ends of his shirt then asked: “Are you excited to show this to dada?”
As soon as she asked that question, the child gasped and held his cheeks, which puffed and emphasized the surprise on his face. The comical look on his face had Haroun tell Jamaal to zoom in on Friso’s face. He knew the viewers were going to love that expression. “Dada’s not going to work today?” Friso asked. It had been a long time since he had some quality time with his father, the man had been busy with his business lately and only spent time with Friso by giving him a good morning and good night kiss. Astoundingly understanding than how he should for a child his age, Friso would pout when no one was looking and silently mope with the fact that he couldn’t spend much time with his father as he used to.
“That’s right, he’s going to play pretend with Friso the whole day.”
“Dada’s playing with me today!” the child cheered and began running around the room when he heard the answer that he had been dying to hear. “I get to play with dada. I get to play with dada,” he sang while tapping his feet into a dance. He was extremely happy that he couldn’t contain himself from dancing. Everyone else who watched him perform prevented themselves from chuckling, except for his mother, who was undeniably amused by his reaction.
“I see that you’re pretty excited.”