The lights blinded her. People called her name.

"Felicity over here! Turn to your left! To your right!"

A lady touched her arm signaling her to take a step to her left. For the same damn angle, same damn picture, same damn pose.

It's all a part of the job, Felicity scolded herself internally, just smile and they won't notice.
Oh yeah sure, I'll just smile as if my whole world wasn't flipped upside down just now. I'll just smile because that's what I'm expected to do.
The internal monologue and battle with herself raged in her mind, very much like the battle photographers in front of her are having with each other trying to get the perfect shot.

The same lady again grasped her arm towards the reporters as if Felicity didn't know what she was doing, like she hasn't done this for the better part of her life.

"Felicity! It's so nice to see you!" Her first reporter squealed in excitement as if they were long time best friends.

She doesn't have a best friend. He broke her heart 4 years ago. On this same exact date.

"So, tell me. What are you wearing?"
"Valentin! It's custom made," she nudged playfully at the reporter "which thank goodness because I just had a big mac in the car ride to get here and if it were any other dress it probably would have already popped."

It's the same charade. Smile, crack jokes, smile, talk, be playful. Tedious. Cyclical. But just the way it was supposed to run.

"So I just heard that Oliver Queen is a front runner to star opposite you in the How to Kill a Rockstar movie. Is that true? Can you give any word on that?" The wind was knocked of her. Her heel buckled. The reporter-Mike?- grabbed her arm just in time to prevent her from falling back. Thank goodness she had a reputation of falling. It just became her scapegoat. Her gasp from the almost tumble gave air back into her lungs. She recovered. Just as she always had.

She heard of the news on the way to the premiere, tainting her well enjoyed big mac. A news she loudly burped in response to, almost vomiting. Damn her anxiety. For just a bit she was able to recollect herself acting mechanical to these award shows, but hearing his name alongside any thought of her made it more real that this was going to happen; she was going to see him.

"What is that? Five, so far?" Mike, if that was really his name or a name she made up for him, teased about her stumble.
"Just about," Felicity tried to laugh off.
"So you opposite Oliver Queen in the movie…" He trailed off wanting to know.
"Oh you sneaky sneaky," she jabbed her pointer finger in the air, mockingly, "I don't know. I don't know! I can't confirm nor deny anything. We'd all have to wait and see. No one tells me anything and pre-production stuff, things always change like casting and stuff… NOT that he's been casted yet. No I'm not saying that. I'm more pointing to myself and how me being casted can change, but you know hopefully not," she rambled.

Yikes, she reprimanded herself. Word vomit.

"Right. Gotcha," he laughed. He doesn't notice. Of course. They're only interested with what she's wearing.

The damn hand landed on her arm again, signaling it was time to move to the next reporter, time to move to the left again. And everything moves into its place once again. The 'What are you wearing?' How do you feel? Have you prepared a speech? Are you presenting?' And it was a little easier to void her mind of the knot forming in her stomach.

It's been 4 years. Can time really change a person? Can it really heal wounds?

She'll just have to find out.

Her doorbell rang.
She can ignore it. They can go away.
It rang again. Ignored.
It rang again, this time one right after the other.

Dear all the precious cinnamon rolls in this world. Felicity groaned bringing up the covers to her face before forcing herself out of bed. She grabbed her robe and tied it tighter to prevent any sort of slip happening.

She made her way through her house and opened the door. A gargantuan man stood in front of her.

"John.. couldn't this wait?" She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.
"It could but I'd rather not wait."
"You know, I just did win a Golden Globe award."
"Congratulations." Diggle deadpanned.
"Being my manager, I hoped that you would be more enthusiastic for me." Felicity said, letting him in.

John made his way inside and sank himself on her sofa, Felicity tailing behind him.

"I am. You know I'm so proud of you. But moreover, I'm concerned."
"About?"
"Felicity. Don't try to lie to me. You suck at lying. For an actress, you suck at lying."
Felicity scoffed, "Do not."
"Do too."
She rolled her eyes. "Okay. What is it? Shoot. Go."
"It's about Oliver."
"John…"
"Listen, I know you don't want to hear it but this conversation has to happen."
"You're right."
"Always am," John smirked.
"No. About me not wanting to hear it." This time it was John who rolled his eyes.
"Well it's good then that intruding you at your house is better than ambushing you in public. I think. I don't know. I should try it sometime."
"I'll never be ambushed." Felicity points out.
"I'll be damned if you ever were." Felicity chuckled. "So Oliver... I know you two had a past and if this is too uncomfortable for you, I can pull you out of this project."

Any other manager would have pushed her to not pull out of this project. They'd argue about how unprofessional it would be. Yada yada yada…
But not John. He was more than just a manager. He was one of the smartest person she knows.
Moreover, he was a friend.

"I've thought about it," Felicity confesses. "But I don't know if I want to pull out of this project. I know what it will mean if I do and I just- I can't."

John gave her a long stare, waiting for the 'Ugh wait I don't know' debate she usually had with herself, but it didn't come. "I just don't want you to feel pressured that's all. You've gotten so far and I'd hate-"
"Hate for me to give me up, yeah I know."
"Exactly. You're one of the strongest people I've met. I'll have your back through whatever decision you make."
"Thanks John, you're the best."
"I know."

John stood up, opening his arms to pull Felicity in a hug.

"It will all work out it in the end."
"I hope so."