Paxton Dayne Carlyle (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
englandrocks) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
dreamlikenewyork2016-12-27 12:59 am
englandrocks) wrote in dreamlikenewyork2016-12-27 12:59 am
"Breathe in, breathe out."
Who: Paxton Carlyle with Trent Lamont
What: Matter of life or death
Where: FABULOUS Studios, NYC
When: Day after Christmas
Right about now, Paxton was severely doubting his decision to take this modelling contract. It was the day after Christmas at what felt like the arse crack of dawn, trying to pretend he was a model because this shoot needed to be in the first issue up in the New Year. But you didn't just take fashion photos and be done. Hundreds of the fuckers were taken so they could made sure they got the best shots that showcased the designers' work. This was a spread, so Paxton was the one model modelling a range of designers in one theme. At least this one wasn't outside like the one he did before Christmas and nearly froze his fucking nuts off. It was true, this modelling thing wasn't glamorous... not by a long shot.
This wasn't the first time Paxton had worked with Guy. Most of the jobs Charlotte had booked him had been Guy. She had told him before he signed that Guy was the best in the business, but he was also a gigantic bitch and extremely serious about his art. Thankfully for Paxton, he got along like a house on fire with Guy. Probably because he didn't question him and he wasn't a bitchy model trying to tell him how to do his job. He just did whatever Guy directed, got in and got the job done. It made it easier for both of them.
That day, however, there was a new face with Guy. He introduced him as Trent, his new Assistant Photographer. At first, Paxton thought that meant his Assistant, but it was obvious Paxton was actually there to help Guy take the photographs. Sure, Guy had been advising him along the way of the sorts of shorts he wanted, and Trent was using much of Guy's vast equipment, but he was definitely a photographer in his own right. Guy left him to it a few times to take business calls while Trent continued to work. It made sense. Guy was in incredibly high demand. Of course he needed helpers. Paxton knew, however, that Guy did all his own editing and didn't hand it over to staff like some photographers, so it said a lot about how high Guy held Trent's work in regard to have employed him.
When they came back after a brief break for Paxton to have a drink of water to stay hydrated and the makeup artist to attack him again with touch-ups, and the hairdresser to style his hair in a different way completely, Guy was briefing Trent again. There were some elaborate hand gestures as Guy was explaining the shoots to Trent, and then Guy had to leave to take another call. Usually, Paxton might made some conversation with Guy, but this bloke looked like he was concentrating on brain surgery or something as he did his job. Paxton couldn't tell if he was just a hard worker or had a stick up his arse and was a giant twat. Maybe both. It wasn't like he had engaged Paxton in conversation beyond telling him how to stand or pose.
"Pretty crap that you have to work right after Christmas," Paxton attempted. All the guy did was glance at him and then keep right on snapping the pictures.
Paxton didn't have any chance to keep trying, though. Everything seemed to happen so quickly then. First Trent dropped the camera... what was probably an extremely expensive camera... on the tiled floor and it smashed. No one had any chance to react to that, because Trent was following it. He seemed to pass out and slam heavily amongst the million camera pieces. Paxton gasped in shock, freezing for only a moment or two like everyone else in the room. The hairdresser, who had been standing right behind Trent when he fell was already leaning over him, trying to see if he was okay.
"Oh my god, he's not breathing!" the hairdresser screamed. "I don't think he's breathing!"
Paxton shot over to them as soon as she was screaming, despite being unsure at first if he should move. He couldn't help it, he was new to this. He didn't know if there was some sort of emergency procedure if someone fainted. Was the model supposed to stay put or help? He didn't know! Everything went out the window with the hairdresser's screams. It was complete panic, and someone behind Paxton was yelling at anyone who was listening to call 911. Like she couldn't do it herself, WTF? Everyone had a phone these days.
What Paxton did know was that he was First Aid trained, and it wasn't up to him to wait to find out if anyone else was. It also wasn't his job to call 911 if he was the only First Aid trained person in the vicinity. He was unable to tell if Trent had smashed his head on the tiles. It looked like he had fallen on his side, but when Paxton got to him and crouched down next to him, Trent was completely unconscious. "Trent? Trent, can you hear me?" he pleaded, giving Trent's shoulder a squeeze to try to rouse him.
Trent was completely unresponsive, so Paxton pulled him over into the recovery position to check to see nothing was blocking his airway. Nothing seemed to be blocking it, so he got him back onto his back. He leaned over to listen if he could hear if Trent was breathing, simultaneously checking to see if his chest was rising and falling. It wasn't. "Fuck, shit!" He couldn't stop that brief panicked cussing, but it didn't stop him doing what he needed to do. The last thing he ever expected when he did First Aid training was to fucking have to put it in action, and he would late be stunned that he actually remembered it in a panic.
Applying the series of breaths to Trent's mouth, and then checking his pulse. There was no breathing and no pulse. What the fuck was going on? The guy was young, and he looked healthy! He didn't seem to be having a seizure, or anything like that. But his lips were turning blue so Paxton started full out CPR on him, knowing he had to keep going until the paramedics arrived. Hopefully someone had actually called them and wasn't just standing there screaming about it.
Everyone else in that room disappeared for Paxton, and he continued to do the CPR until Trent suddenly started to choke, a clear indication he was trying to gasp for breath on his own. Paxton quickly turned him onto his side again, and even if he then got a lap full of vomit, he actually felt himself burst into tears of relief that he had got Trent to start breathing again. Trent wasn't conscious, despite the vomiting. Once it stopped, Paxton used his own shirt to wipe some of the mess away from Trent's mouth, checking that he could still feel the pulse that he could now feel.
It felt like a fucking eternity that he was sitting there holding Trent's hand and waiting for ambulance to arrive. He didn't know what the fuck had just happened, but what he knew was that even if there was thousands of dollars of smashed camera pieces lying in amongst the pool of sick beneath his legs, it was nothing on the cost of a human life.
NARRATIVE, COMPLETE
What: Matter of life or death
Where: FABULOUS Studios, NYC
When: Day after Christmas
Right about now, Paxton was severely doubting his decision to take this modelling contract. It was the day after Christmas at what felt like the arse crack of dawn, trying to pretend he was a model because this shoot needed to be in the first issue up in the New Year. But you didn't just take fashion photos and be done. Hundreds of the fuckers were taken so they could made sure they got the best shots that showcased the designers' work. This was a spread, so Paxton was the one model modelling a range of designers in one theme. At least this one wasn't outside like the one he did before Christmas and nearly froze his fucking nuts off. It was true, this modelling thing wasn't glamorous... not by a long shot.
This wasn't the first time Paxton had worked with Guy. Most of the jobs Charlotte had booked him had been Guy. She had told him before he signed that Guy was the best in the business, but he was also a gigantic bitch and extremely serious about his art. Thankfully for Paxton, he got along like a house on fire with Guy. Probably because he didn't question him and he wasn't a bitchy model trying to tell him how to do his job. He just did whatever Guy directed, got in and got the job done. It made it easier for both of them.
That day, however, there was a new face with Guy. He introduced him as Trent, his new Assistant Photographer. At first, Paxton thought that meant his Assistant, but it was obvious Paxton was actually there to help Guy take the photographs. Sure, Guy had been advising him along the way of the sorts of shorts he wanted, and Trent was using much of Guy's vast equipment, but he was definitely a photographer in his own right. Guy left him to it a few times to take business calls while Trent continued to work. It made sense. Guy was in incredibly high demand. Of course he needed helpers. Paxton knew, however, that Guy did all his own editing and didn't hand it over to staff like some photographers, so it said a lot about how high Guy held Trent's work in regard to have employed him.
When they came back after a brief break for Paxton to have a drink of water to stay hydrated and the makeup artist to attack him again with touch-ups, and the hairdresser to style his hair in a different way completely, Guy was briefing Trent again. There were some elaborate hand gestures as Guy was explaining the shoots to Trent, and then Guy had to leave to take another call. Usually, Paxton might made some conversation with Guy, but this bloke looked like he was concentrating on brain surgery or something as he did his job. Paxton couldn't tell if he was just a hard worker or had a stick up his arse and was a giant twat. Maybe both. It wasn't like he had engaged Paxton in conversation beyond telling him how to stand or pose.
"Pretty crap that you have to work right after Christmas," Paxton attempted. All the guy did was glance at him and then keep right on snapping the pictures.
Paxton didn't have any chance to keep trying, though. Everything seemed to happen so quickly then. First Trent dropped the camera... what was probably an extremely expensive camera... on the tiled floor and it smashed. No one had any chance to react to that, because Trent was following it. He seemed to pass out and slam heavily amongst the million camera pieces. Paxton gasped in shock, freezing for only a moment or two like everyone else in the room. The hairdresser, who had been standing right behind Trent when he fell was already leaning over him, trying to see if he was okay.
"Oh my god, he's not breathing!" the hairdresser screamed. "I don't think he's breathing!"
Paxton shot over to them as soon as she was screaming, despite being unsure at first if he should move. He couldn't help it, he was new to this. He didn't know if there was some sort of emergency procedure if someone fainted. Was the model supposed to stay put or help? He didn't know! Everything went out the window with the hairdresser's screams. It was complete panic, and someone behind Paxton was yelling at anyone who was listening to call 911. Like she couldn't do it herself, WTF? Everyone had a phone these days.
What Paxton did know was that he was First Aid trained, and it wasn't up to him to wait to find out if anyone else was. It also wasn't his job to call 911 if he was the only First Aid trained person in the vicinity. He was unable to tell if Trent had smashed his head on the tiles. It looked like he had fallen on his side, but when Paxton got to him and crouched down next to him, Trent was completely unconscious. "Trent? Trent, can you hear me?" he pleaded, giving Trent's shoulder a squeeze to try to rouse him.
Trent was completely unresponsive, so Paxton pulled him over into the recovery position to check to see nothing was blocking his airway. Nothing seemed to be blocking it, so he got him back onto his back. He leaned over to listen if he could hear if Trent was breathing, simultaneously checking to see if his chest was rising and falling. It wasn't. "Fuck, shit!" He couldn't stop that brief panicked cussing, but it didn't stop him doing what he needed to do. The last thing he ever expected when he did First Aid training was to fucking have to put it in action, and he would late be stunned that he actually remembered it in a panic.
Applying the series of breaths to Trent's mouth, and then checking his pulse. There was no breathing and no pulse. What the fuck was going on? The guy was young, and he looked healthy! He didn't seem to be having a seizure, or anything like that. But his lips were turning blue so Paxton started full out CPR on him, knowing he had to keep going until the paramedics arrived. Hopefully someone had actually called them and wasn't just standing there screaming about it.
Everyone else in that room disappeared for Paxton, and he continued to do the CPR until Trent suddenly started to choke, a clear indication he was trying to gasp for breath on his own. Paxton quickly turned him onto his side again, and even if he then got a lap full of vomit, he actually felt himself burst into tears of relief that he had got Trent to start breathing again. Trent wasn't conscious, despite the vomiting. Once it stopped, Paxton used his own shirt to wipe some of the mess away from Trent's mouth, checking that he could still feel the pulse that he could now feel.
It felt like a fucking eternity that he was sitting there holding Trent's hand and waiting for ambulance to arrive. He didn't know what the fuck had just happened, but what he knew was that even if there was thousands of dollars of smashed camera pieces lying in amongst the pool of sick beneath his legs, it was nothing on the cost of a human life.
NARRATIVE, COMPLETE