Privacy and The Public Eye [will/skandar]
Title: Privacy and The Public Eye
Pairing: William Moseley/Skandar Keynes
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Fiction
Summary: A rumour is just a rumour, until the paparazzi hear about it.
Honestly, I hadn't even stepped out of the limousine before ten microphones were being pushed in my face, reporters literally trying to shove them down my throat. Security made their way to stand in front of me, forcing people away as they barked inappropriate questions and made false statements. There were words I could pick out, "Skandar Keynes" being among most of them. The word "relationship" popped up a few times. But, that short list of words aside, all other voices just blurred in and out of earshot.
I followed closely behind security, blinking and trying to turn my face away from the camera flashes. One woman tripped over the cord to a video camera in her rush to reach me, but still she managed to shout, "Is it true you're sleeping with with your co-star, Skandar Keynes?"
The voices grew louder, people were getting annoyed. They pushed at security, spat their questions in my face. I didn't know where to look, I was blinded by flashes in every direction, deafened by clicking and screaming and all I could do to avoid it was keep walking. But even that was something I could barely do. I felt as though I were moving an inch per minute, yet everything else was going so fast. Now all noise just rushed past me, my heart thumped against my rib cage, my eyes watered. The air was hot, too hot to breathe. I thought I would feint. My head felt like it was spinning, I couldn't focus my eyes.
Reaching out a sweaty hand, I tried to brace myself against the shoulder of the bodyguard in front of me. Turning his head, he yelled to me over his shoulder, "We're almost inside."
I nodded and tried to take deep breaths.
Voices were becoming discernible again, words stopped slurring together as they reached my ears.
Still, the questions were all the same.
"Are you gay?"
"Tell us about your relationship with Skandar Keynes!"
"Is it true you slept together during the filming of Prince Caspian?"
I felt my cheeks flush, my whole body felt hot. My hands were shaking. I tried to put faces to the voices that were shouting at me, but couldn't. They were coming from everywhere at once.
Finally, finally, security led me into the building and closed the door on the persistent, insane reporters and photographers.
I stopped to lean against the wall, and, closing my eyes, I was able to breathe again.
It took a moment for my palms to cease sweating and my heart beat to slow. But once they did, I opened my eyes and saw the security guard looking at me, smiling a sympathetic smile. He said, "I gotta tell ya, kid, I'm glad I ain't you."
I attempted a weak laugh, "Yeah... sometimes I don't want to be me either."