Title In Progress. {Seth Meyers and Amy Poehler}

Nine.

The room is silent, he knows that.

He also knows he just did something that could change everything.

He pulls away very slowly, breathing heavily, his eyes fixed on hers. She's confused, he can see that. She's so fucking confused and the second he straightens his back, he regrets it. The kiss was short, but longer than it should have.

At first, his mind was racing, and the sweat was already beating down his forehead. It's all of a sudden way too warm in there. Then, he starts to think he can play it off, but he knows he can't. Sure they kiss all the time, but he knows this time was different. He knows she knows this time wasn't their usual playful kiss.

It felt foreign, more exploring than pretend or friendly. This time their mouths lingered, and their breathing faster than normal. She could tell by the look on his face, this time was real.

This time, the kiss was real.

And she was caught of guard, and she was confused and shocked. No one moved or attempted anything, they just stood and starred at the two for what seemed like forever.

He can't stand it - the silence, the confused looks and stares. The way she wasn't smiling her famous winning smile, or laughing or anything. Usually he can read her face, but this time, he couldn't. He couldn't tell what she was feeling or thinking or was going to do. All he could do was wait for a remark, or action, or something.

Finally, she opens her mouth again to speak, but she was speechless. She tore her questioning eyes away from him and glanced around the audience. She looked back at him, with a sad expression. She simply utters five words, before getting up and quickly walking back stage. His heart sank as she walked further away.

He got up to go after her, but his crew snapped out of their trance and barked at him to stay where he was. The show was still on air, and there's still a few minutes until commercial break. He's frozen. He can't move, but he wants to. He really wants to.

That's when the room exploded into whispers. The crew working millions to try and get back on track. He was ambushed by men and women throwing questions at him. They were like buzzing bees swarming him for answers and reassurance that everything will be fine as soon as the break is over. But all he can think about was the mistake he committed no less than a minute ago.

But suddenly, he worked up the courage and slipped past the circle that formed around him. He ran towards the back stage and past rooms. He zoomed past his own dressing room, and finally stopped in front of her door. The door even had her name on it.

He catches some breaths, and collected himself before his knuckles rapped over the wooden door softly. He grasped the knob, and to his delight, it turned. He wasted no time, and swung the door wide open. And to his horror, the room appeared empty. He even stepped inside to check behind the door. But nothing. He noticed she must've been in a hurry, because her shoes were still there, toppled over on the floor. He knew they were hers, because shes a sucker for converse. And wearing heels all day is not her thing.

He walks over, bends down and lifts the sneakers. Her coat and purse were missing, so she sacrificed her sneakers just to get away from him. Her favorite sneakers too. He dropped to the floor and starred at them. He heard rushing and talking growing nearer and nearer. Then the doorway was occupied by three men, his crew men. But their faces weren't angry, or annoyed. Instead they wore sympathetic faces, worried ones. Sad ones.

They entered and one of them knelt down to his level. They kindly asked if he was okay to do the rest of the show. He shook his head, not making eye contact. They simply nodded their heads and left him alone in the room.

He wondered for a second what they were going to do. Emergency host? Did they have one? What will happen to him? He guessed he'll be fired by morning. Maybe SNL will take him back. Yeah right, he probably wouldn't even be allowed back in 30 Rock.

Then his mind shifted back over to her.

Now for the real questions; what was he going to do? He stood up, still ahold of the converse, left the room and continued outside. Paparazzi swarmed him, snapping photos and asking questions. Asking questions about her, and why she left in such a hurry, with no shoes on, holding her heels. Guess they weren't watching the show.

He ignored them, and hailed a cab for himself. Converse in hand, the cab took off. He sat quietly, with no destination in mind.