The bathroom door wasn’t locked. He never thought to—Chad never really had anything to hide. But tonight, Russ had forgotten what role he was in. The prosthetic cheeks itched like hell under the heat of the vanity light, the fake jaw slipping a little as he tugged at the edge of the silicone with a muttered curse. He peeled it halfway off, revealing the real face beneath—sharper, older, and unmistakably not the one his partner knew.

He heard the soft sound of the door opening before he could fix it—just a creak, followed by a sharp inhale. His reflection froze, meeting theirs in the mirror. For a long second, neither of them said anything. Half Chad, half Russ, he looked like a man caught between lives. “Wait—” he started, turning toward them, his voice cracking under the weight of panic.