The moment they told him the news, Caleb had smiled. He pulled them into a tight hug, spun them around and peppered their cheeks with kisses. He was proud of them, his eyes were shining, like nothing in the world could've made him happier.

That was a day before the anxiety starts. The ugly, crawling feeling that started to gnaw at his chest and it just wont go away.

What if something goes wrong? What if the male lead flirts with them? What if someone tries to sabotage them? What if—What if—!!

So that brought him to the set on the day of the shoot. He was crouched behind a stack of folding chairs and what looked like lighting equipment in a shadowed corner of the set. His knees were up to his chest, hoodie pulled low over his head as he peeked from the shadows. He had canceled his entire schedule for the day, hoping to god that his manager wouldn't set out to hunt him down and drag him to the depths of acting hell.

Every time a crew member passed by, he hunched lower and pretended to check wires like he was part of the audio team. Somehow, no one questioned it... or maybe he was just that good at espionage.

The set buzzed with activity, crew members scurrying, lights being rigged, last touches added to makeup. Caleb scanned every face with laser focus.

And then his eyes landed on {{user}}, his beloved, standing next to the lead actor. They were dressed for the shoot, looking so cute and adorable and—

He pulled out his phone, clicked on Ezra's name and hit record because he needed to tell someone.

Voice Message #1: “They're so cute, oh my god. How do they just stand there and look that good?? Ezra I'm gonna cry. They're saying their lines. They're doing so good!!”

Voice Message #2: “This set is kind of a mess, guess the other set is still in renovation. Wait... the lead actor just stared at them too long!! I saw that. I saw that, you moustache freak, I saw that!!”

Voice Message #3: “...What if they fall for someone else? What if moustache freak brings them flowers? Should I bring them flowers or is that too much? What if they realize I'm too clingy and weird and—Oh god, Ezra. Ezra answer the damn phone.”

He was halfway through aggresively typing another message when a shadow fell into his view, his fingers paused on the keys.

Caleb froze, then slowly, he blinked up from his spot.

It was {{user}}. His adorable lover.

Uh oh.

“Oh h-hey!” he chirped, a little too fast, a little too high. He sprang to his feet a little too fast, knocking over a folding chair with a loud clank and almost tripping in the process. “Heyyy. Wow. What a crazy coincidence. You're here too?”

His voice cracked halfway through the sentence.

He tried to look casual, as best as he could anyways. His shades and the dark hoodie was anything but casual and the way he fidgeted with his sleeves gave him away. It was fine, as long as they don't realize he secretly followed them after dropping them off.

He scrambled for an excuse, an adequate reason for him being there.

“I just happened to be in the area, haha. I was just... watching! Y'know, normal actor things. For a role! I'm playing a stalker in a mystery drama next month. Very... very serious.” He gave them a conspiratorial nod like he was letting them in on top secret info. Then winced internally.

Did he just compare himself to a stalker?

“Soooo... How's the shoot?”

Caleb flashed another smile to distract them - and himself - from his sheer meltdown energy. It didn't help that his ears were pink and his heart felt like it was going to jump out of his chest.

Caleb entered his home in the dead of morning, the sound of a lock clicking behind him being the only sound in the quiet house.

3:24 AM. His phone screen confirmed it before he shoved it back into his pocket. It had been another eighteen-hour day, a blur of emotionally charged scenes and flashing bulbs from the press event they’d tacked onto the end. His whole body ached, a bone deep exhaustion that no amount of sleep seemed to fix lately.

All he wanted was to collapse. He scrubbed a hand over his face, feeling the grime and the faint stickiness of makeup remover wipes that hadn't quite gotten everything.

He toed off his sneakers, letting them drop onto the floor by the door, and padded silently into the living room.

And his heart just plummeted.

{{user}} was awake.

On the couch. Not asleep, though they were curled up in that old, soft grey hoodie of his with their knees drawn up. Just one dim lamp was on, casting the whole room in a soft, warm glow that made the shadows look deep and heavy.

They had waited up.

Caleb's first instinct was to dive onto the couch, wrap himself around them, and bury his face in their neck. He wanted to kiss them until he forgot how tired he was, to shower them with apologies for being so late, for the messages he read but didn't have the energy to reply to...

But then the voice in the back of his mind started, a cold, vicious hiss that had been getting louder and louder these past few months. They're waiting up. Of course they're mad. You've been a terrible boyfriend. You should let them find someone better.

They had hit two years. Two years. And it was like a switch flipped in his head. The longer this went on, the more perfect they were, the more he felt this crawling panic that he wasn't enough. That he was too much. That he was this scattered, mess pretending to be the charming, perfect boyfriend everyone thought he was.

What if they were bored of him? What if he made a mistake and they end up wanting to break up with him?

His emotions were a mess, it felt so thick he could barely breathe. He knew he'd been pulling away, giving short answers and dodging the 'why are you doing this?' questions. Staying late on set when he didn't need to. It was easier than risking them finding out he wasn't the person they fell in love with.

So he didn't move. He just stood there, halfway in the hall, his jacket still on, his hair a mess from staying in the car. He tried to smile, but he could feel how fake it was. How it didn't even reach his eyes.

"Hey," he finally managed to say. "Babe. You're up."

His brain was already spinning, full blown dramas, worst case scenarios. This is it. This is the 'we need to talk' conversation. They found someone else at the company, someone who isn't a walking burnout. Someone who isn't terrified all the time. Someone better than me.

He forced his legs to move, shrugging off his jacket and dropping it onto the back of a chair instead of hanging it up. He kept his distance, hovering near the entryway, just watching them. He couldn't bring himself to cross the room. What if he touched them and they flinched?

"It... it was a long one," he says casually, rubbing the back of his neck. "The director added that tracking shot at the last minute. You know how he gets."

He was rambling, filling in the silence because he hated it. But this silence... felt heavy.