I Want You To Be My Last

Part 12 : Act

Gulf found his way back to dinner realizing he'd lost what little appetite he had, passing by their table to say goodbye to the others before he went straight to where his manager was seated.

All the while, Gulf had a feeling he was being watched, could literally feel P'Mew's gaze burning a hole in his skull as he sauntered towards P'Best and told him he wasn't feeling well. His manager comically dropped the sausage he was about to put into his mouth as if on cue and immediately stood, uncaring that he'd brought attention to himself when the chair scraped noisily against the tiled floor in his haste to ask Gulf what was wrong.

Was he in pain? Did they need a quick trip to the hospital just in case? How about an ambulance instead? Should he call P'Berm? Or Gulf's mom?

"No, Phi, my God, calm down," he whispered, squeezing the older man's arm to reassure him that no, he wasn't in pain and he was certain he didn't need to be taken to a hospital, thank you very much. "It's just my migraine acting up again, Phi, I swear." he murmured, adding he forgot to bring his medicines with him knowing that P'Best would ask about them.

"Don't you remember the name of it? I'll see if the pharmacy across the street has them." P'Best asked - at least he didn't sound hysterical, although he was looking forlornly at his discarded plate and the food piled on it. Gulf sighed, and almost felt bad for doing this, for pulling his manager away from his dinner, but he guessed he had no other choice.

"Sorry, I don't remember the name, Phi," he said, reaching up to massage his temple for show.

P'Best sighed as he moved away from the table and nodded, before pointing at the direction of the changing rooms.

"Alright, let me go get your stuff first. I'll see you outside in a bit."

Gulf agreed, but not before tilting his head behind him and saying, "Let me just say goodbye to the producers, Phi. And also apologize for leaving first."

P'Best said nothing but nodded anyway. Gulf turned around and headed towards the producers' table, willing himself not to shake, catching P'Mew looking. He crossed the short distance with his heart in his throat, wondering if anyone at the table noticed the way Gulf was deliberately avoiding the eyes of their guest sitting with them there.

Gulf shoved a hand into his pocket, searching, just as he approached the table, walked around until he was standing behind P'Arm. The older man didn't notice him at first until P'Mew did the courtesy and pointed at Gulf himself.

"Oh, what's the matter, Nong Gulf?" P'Arm looked visibly alarmed. He turned on his seat, then stood, but Gulf held out a hand to stop him. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, Phi," Gulf answered, squinting at the older man with difficulty. He was just acting, of course, but it couldn't be helped.

"But I have to excuse myself first, if it's okay. My head is killing me, must be the migraine acting up again. Unfortunately, my meds are at home. I didn't realize I forgot to put them in my bag until I was looking for them just after the show." he explained, hoping he didn't sound as shaky as he felt, but he guessed he could only hope, especially when, upon hearing him, he immediately noticed P'Mew straightening on his seat, shoulders stiff as he sat there listening to Gulf spouting bullshit.

"Oh, that's too bad," P'Arm said, hand reaching out to squeeze Gulf's elbow. "Are you sure it's just a migraine though?" the older man followed, and for a second there, Gulf was worried P'Arm would say the exact same thing P'Best did earlier.

"I'm sure, Phi." he answered.

Thankfully, P'Arm didn't. "Could be because of today's events. We're all kind of exhausted, I know. Especially you guys. It's fine, Nong. Go home and rest," P'Arm said, turning around in his seat, looking around as if he just remembered something.