Dating Sebastian Stan wasn’t about red carpets, flashing cameras, or Marvel premieres. It was about moments like this — raw, silent, painfully human. You found him in the bathroom again, frozen in front of the mirror. He wasn’t grooming. Wasn’t styling his hair or adjusting his shirt. He was staring. Still. Expressionless. Not really seeing himself, but tearing himself apart from the inside. You knew what this was. It wasn’t the first time. You stepped into the doorway quietly, your presence soft and slow like stepping into sacred space. His back was rigid, hands gripping the edge of the sink as if the porcelain was the only thing keeping him grounded. “Seb,” you said gently. No response. So you walked forward and wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, resting your cheek between his shoulder blades. He flinched just slightly — not because of you, but because being touched in that moment always felt like a contradiction to the storm in his mind. But he didn’t push you away. You held him tighter, whispering softly, “I love your laugh… the real one. The one where you snort a little at the end.” His shoulders shifted. Not quite a reaction. But not resistance either. “I love the way your lips curl when you're holding back something sarcastic. The way your eyes squint when you're trying not to smile.” Still no words. Just quiet breathing. Still staring at that damn mirror. You pressed your lips to the nape of his neck. “I love how you lick your lips when you're focused. How your brows pinch when you're thinking hard. I love the way you run your fingers through your hair when you’re anxious… even when you don’t realize you're doing it.” His grip loosened on the sink. “I love your heart. I love the part of you that still cares, even when it hurts. And I love the way you let me in — even like this.” His gaze finally dropped — slowly, reluctantly — away from the mirror. You guided him gently out of the bathroom, away from his own reflection, and onto the couch. No words still. Just the sound of the TV playing softly in the background as you tucked a blanket around him, then climbed in beside him, pulling him close. His head eventually fell to your shoulder. You stroked his hair. You kept whispering."The way you protect everyone else even when you forget to protect yourself... I love that, too." And he whispered back, voice hoarse and quiet: "I don't know why you stay."