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I was there when Peter went down. Wendy was whispering something in my ear, something about going to a movie tonight with Stuart and that Tony guy he's been seeing. I was plotting how to get out of it, since Stuart and I aren't exactly on the best of terms. Peter was talking with the director, a big smile on his face. Then--
"WHAT!" Peter's voice, disbelieving and horrified. Something quiet from the director, something about running out of film ten seconds into the shot. Peter was in the middle of the room, screaming, and I was ignoring him, thinking he would calm down in a minute. I was trying to decide what movie I wanted to go to, when I heard Stuart.
"Peter?" The frightened tone in his voice made me look up. Stuart, little jackass Stuart, was out of his chair and halfway across the room toward where Peter had been. Standing up, I realized that Peter was on his back on the floor. Stuart was kneeling beside him, working at the collar of his shirt, and I was struck by the tenderness in Stuart's movements. I always thought he and Peter had a mutual hate-hate relationship. But I guess I was wrong. Wendy murmured at me to call 911, and I left the room.
**
I was kind of lurking in the corner when Peter went down. It had been nearly four hours since my "It's time" triumph, and I was getting the feeling I was beginning to wear out my welcome. Everything seemed pretty normal. Peter looked like he was about to go plasma at the director. Stuart was watching him with an obscenely hungry look on his face. Wendy was whispering something in Jenny's ear, her eyebrows lifting suggestively. I was counting the minutes until I could go home.
Peter was shouting at us suddenly, something about all of us being fucking idiots not worthy of being on the same planet as him. Stuart looked like he was taking it personally, his little eyebrows drawing together, his face scrunching up.
Peter fell so suddenly it took us a few seconds to react. Well, most of us, that is. Stuart was up immediately, catching him, loosening his tie and getting him air. Jenny was running off to call an ambulance. Suddenly I noticed just how many people there were in the studio--and just how close they were pressing around Peter. I took it upon myself to keep them back, give Stuart the space he needed.
**
I was there when Peter went down. Well, sort of. My body was there, perched in my chair beside his, watching his incredible delicious ass as he argued with the director. My mind, however, was drifting somewhere above Paris, imagining a hotel room with a view of the Eiffle Tower, breakfast in bed for the two of us, laughing over coffee, walking around the city holding his hand, snuggling up with him at night . . . I was beginning to become aware of a slightly idiotic smile on my face when his shout startled me out of my daydream.
He started screaming at us about being morons, something like that, I wasn't really listening. I was paying attention to his face, to the deep crimson he's turning. Something was very very wrong, and I knew it. I could feel it. I could see him falter, see the confusion in his gorgeous eyes, and I was ready when he went down. I stumbled out of my chair, needing to get my hands on him, to calm him, kill some of that terror and pain in his eyes. I had been with Tony a few times, but it had never meant anything. Peter had always been the only one for me.
I loosened his tie and his collar, cradled his face in my hands. For once, there was no anger in his eyes when he looked at me, only this silent plea for help. One of his hands came up to take one of mine, and I held it tightly, soothing him in the only way I knew how. Adam was keeping the crowds back, and I heard someone say Jenny had gone to call 911. But it all went straight over my head. All I could focus on was Peter, there was nothing but Peter in front of me. He needed me. And there was no way I was going to abandon him.
I just couldn't hold it back any longer. I mean, the whole damn day had been awful, starting with . . . I can't even remember what. But there was always Holden arguing over everything from his lines to the size of his cock. Then that little actress bitch went off on a rag, god only knows what her problem was. Goddamn Stuart fucked up the thing with the gift baskets, got Holden drunk, and we just barely got the shot on time. Then the damn director told me we ran out of film about ten seconds into the shot, and I lost it. I don't even remember what I was saying to them, something stupid and insulting and loud. Stuart looked like he was taking it personally, and I made a mental note to talk to him later--poor guy, he never realized I was only so hard on him because I always had a secret THING for him. He's so cute when he's upset, I was thinking, when I felt something hard and nasty and painful start inside me, in my chest. I only had time to see Stuart coming towards me before I blacked out.
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