[ The tremors starting to shimmy through her are impossible to suppress; Eddie's heart is thundering in her chest, louder and stronger than it does even when she's performing, and she feels like she can feel all the muscle fibers between her ribs, how tightly they've locked together, how difficult it is to convince them to stretch and relax so she can breathe, the knot her diaphragm has twisted itself into reluctant to release. Being knocked to the ground and a light falling on the stage is not very much like the terror of Spring Break her final senior year at all, except for how it absolutely flooded her system with adrenaline, and she feels a little bit like she was just discovered in Rick's boathouse beneath that tarp, her hands shaking as she tried to light a cigarette with Stevie Harrington staring at her with blood on her neck from Eddie's panicked attempt to fight back.
Stevie is safe in their green room with Chrissy. The only person with blood on their neck is the guy who tackled her.
It's the detail she focuses on first as she looks over the heads of the men crowding around her, checking her over, asking her if she's okay. Her rescuer is similarly dealing with a small crowd of concerned roadies. He shakes his head, but she can't hear what he says. They're probably asking him if he's okay, too.
Her head is still reeling, her brain feeling like it's sloshing around in her skull, so by a doctor's definition she probably isn't okay, but by her own skewed metrics, she's fine. She says so, actually, knocking away the solicitous hands trying to soothe her, her shoulders lifting defensively as she tries to regain her equilibrium.
He's stepped into the circle around her, resolutely ignoring Terry just as much as she is, and at first she smiles reflexively at him as he carefully sidles in close, but then the fact that he called her chica filters through her muddled-up thoughts and her eyes sharpen. ] Papi?
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2025-05-23 04:16 pm (UTC)Stevie is safe in their green room with Chrissy. The only person with blood on their neck is the guy who tackled her.
It's the detail she focuses on first as she looks over the heads of the men crowding around her, checking her over, asking her if she's okay. Her rescuer is similarly dealing with a small crowd of concerned roadies. He shakes his head, but she can't hear what he says. They're probably asking him if he's okay, too.
Her head is still reeling, her brain feeling like it's sloshing around in her skull, so by a doctor's definition she probably isn't okay, but by her own skewed metrics, she's fine. She says so, actually, knocking away the solicitous hands trying to soothe her, her shoulders lifting defensively as she tries to regain her equilibrium.
He's stepped into the circle around her, resolutely ignoring Terry just as much as she is, and at first she smiles reflexively at him as he carefully sidles in close, but then the fact that he called her chica filters through her muddled-up thoughts and her eyes sharpen. ] Papi?