5-1
467 Words
5
Awards season, which seems to take up half the year, is tense and exhausting for everyone. The airing structure of Fourth may be quasi-groundbreaking, but one of the downsides of not shooting on a normal schedule is that major writing times overlap with days the rest of the industry takes off to party. It doesn’t make any of them live quieter, more responsible lives. Combined with the last minute changes that are part and parcel of the very chaotic Fourth Estate beast, Paul can’t wait for everything to calm down and go back to normal.
They win at the Emmys for Best Writing and Best Directing, although they miss Best Dramatic Series. Victor grumbles in a manner intended to be entertaining all through the celebration. Once the hangover from the celebrations wear off, Paul starts planning the real victory party.
He’s almost not surprised when Alex is in the writers’ room the morning Paul invites everyone over to his house the next weekend. Paul’s seen him moving in and out of the different spaces at the studio when he’s not on set. Like an unsettled cat, Alex seems to be trying them out for comfort. More and more, though, he’s been landing here.
“Don’t you have a trailer?” Paul asks as he squeezes by Alex and starts unpacking his laptop bag.
Alex is squinting at the massive bulletin board that takes up most of one wall. Cards scrawled with notes on character arcs and plot beats are thumbtacked to it. Alex must know it represents a map of his future. “Am I in the way?” he asks, not taking his eyes from the cards.
“Not yet,” Paul says like the question is reasonable. No one complains about Alex regardless of where he lands. He’s a star now, and no one complains about stars to their faces. “And I’m glad you’re here. There’s going to be a party next week, you should come.”
“Another one?” Alex is already dressed as Zach for the day — at least, Paul feels safe assuming Alex would never choose an outfit that makes him look so delicate. The way Alex carries himself when he’s off duty doesn’t suit the pale blue shirt in an almost feminine cut, much less the scarf he has looped around his neck or the pants that might have been painted on for how tight they are. Not that Paul is looking.
“At my house and for fun,” Paul reassures him. “Totally off the clock. No cameras and no official business. Work people, but what can you do? It’s not like any of us have lives.”
“I don’t know.” But when Alex bites at his lower lip just so and smiles, Paul knows he’ll say yes. “You guys should celebrate your win. I wasn’t a part of that.”
“We were writing for you,” Paul says. “You were it.”
Alex turns to look at Paul over his shoulder. His lips part slightly in wonderment and he looks startled in a way Paul knows isn’t a reaction to a simple compliment. “Okay.”
—
- Writer
