Page 47 of Fan Favorite

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[RYAN SEACREST]

Hey guys, I’m Ryan Seacrest, and this isE! News Now. According to reports,Keystar Bennett Charles was rushed into emergency surgery Thursday afternoon. Sourcessaythe extreme sports adventurer was filming in Malibu when, in a “freak accident,” he took a fall so severe it might just end the season.

[INTRO CREDITS]

[RYAN SEACREST]

We’ve gotThe Key’s very own Wyatt Cash in the studio. Hey, Wyatt.

[WYATT CASH]

Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit, Ryan, I amshook.

[RYAN SEACREST]

I think we all are, Wyatt. What have you heard about Bennett’s condition?

[WYATT CASH]

Sorry to say it ain’t good, Ryan, it ain’t good. Word on the street is Bennett Charles fell right on his face. And now he’s looking less like one of those Hemsworth brochachos and more like a slice of Mamaw’s blueberry pie.

[RYAN SEACREST]

Ouch! The network says: “Reports of an accident onThe Keyare wildly overblown. While this is by farThe Key’s most dramatic season ever—premiering November 3rd on RX—thisspecific incident was a minor mishap and filming will resume as scheduled this week.”

[WYATT CASH]

As a son of Jesus, I believe in miracles. But even Kris Jenner takes time off when she gets her face done. I bet you a nickel the next time we see Bennett Charles is when Billy Eichner plays him on Ryan Murphy’sAmerican Horror Story: The Key.

[RYAN SEACREST]

I hope you’re wrong, Wyatt. Bennett Charles, we wish you well! Wyatt, can we talk about your own painful exit from the show? How are you doing?

[WYATT CASH]

That’s mighty kind of you, Ryan. Being forced out of the closet on the front page of the tabloids—I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. But I am blessed. Never before have I been able to live my truth and now that I am, I promise never to lie to America again. Which is why I’m starring in Hulu’s brand-new reality dating show for gay men:COCKBLOCKERS! In a house of twenty-five men, who will get rocked? And who will get COCKBLOCKED?

[RYAN SEACREST]

That’s great, Wyatt. Why are Mandy Moore and other celebrity moms eating their placentas? Find out right after this.

17

Seriously?” Bennett shouted. “You’re laughing? You think this is funny?”

Well, sorry, but itwasfunny. After Jessa pushed Peter through the door of Bennett’s hospital room and he saw Bennett lying there, looking pathetic in a faded hospital gown with a silver splint taped across his nose and a rash consuming his neck, his hair all flat and sad, suddenly Bennett didn’t look like Extreme Sports Prince Charming anymore. He looked like an aging frat boy who’d landed himself in the hospital after cracking his face open during some sort of Sunday Funday keg-stand nostalgia bullshit in Mark’s or Nick’s or Steve’s garage, and all at once it struck Peter as funny—so fucking funny!—that he had elevated this douchebag to national prominence and was giving himself a fucking ulcer over getting him engaged, this idiot who Peter would never give the time of day to in real life, except—except!—thiswasreal life, which Bennett had reminded him, crossing his forearms (with the stupid lotus tattoo and the bracelets in string and bead) petulantly across his chest, “Thisis my fucking life, Peter, like my actual fucking life,” and then they’d stared at each other in silence for a moment until Peter burst out laughing. Guffawing, really. The whole thing just suddenly struck him as absurd. Like when Bennett Charles had fallen from that lifeguard chair,Peterhad been the one to cradle Bennett’s head in his lap and press Lily’s gauzy sarong to his face to stanch the bleeding. While Jessa had paced through the sand and yelled at the 911 operator,Peterhad been the one to notice the tears escaping from Bennett’s eyes and to not only wipe them away with his thumb, but to yell at everyone to back up so they wouldn’t see. While Edie and the rest of the girls sobbed, while the cameramen circled, while they all waited the slow sixteen minutes for the paramedics to arrive,Peterhad been the one to lightly stroke Bennett’s forehead.Peterhad been the one to risk his own life sitting on a tiny bench seat while the ambulance screeched around corners. Peter’s life was now completely intertwined with this fucking guy’s, and he was quickly realizing that he was more invested in Bennett’s future happiness than his own. And the fact that he—Peter! Peter Kennedy!—spent the days, hours, minutes, seconds of his life writing love stories when he couldn’t even come while fucking a model—a model!—well, sorry, itwasfunny.

“You’re such a dick,” Bennett accused. “Where’s my phone? Give me my phone.”

Peter held up a hand—just a minute, he was pulling it together. But then he looked back at Bennett, a felled giant, and lost it all over again. A beach volleyball game had landed Mr. Extreme Sports in the hospital. A beach volleyball game he hadn’t even played in! And it was already front-page news on all the tabloid sites in America. And Carole Steele was going to—what was it she’d said?—oh, yes,stab Peter to death with her Louboutin.

“I’m done with this shit. I’m not even kidding. I want off this fucking show.”

“Me too,” Peter said, straightening. He strode to Bennett’s bedside and took his meaty palm in his own; they were brothers now. “Yes. Let’s quit. Why not? Let’s quit before they ruin us. We’ll leave.” He threw the blanket off Bennett’s legs.

“Have you lost your mind?” Bennett snatched the blanket back. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

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