You were in New York filming a new movie called Deep Cuts, and you had landed the main role — your first ever, since you hadn’t been acting for very long.

The first days on set were exhausting, but you had a lot of fun, especially since you and your co-star, Drew Starkey, got along so well.

The two of you got along from the very first moment. You felt comfortable around each other. During breaks or in your free time — when you didn’t have to go over the script — you messed around, joked about the most random things, and laughed at jokes that weren’t even that funny, but somehow were to the two of you.

So yeah, working together with Drew Starkey was pretty much fun.

At least, that was how you saw it.

For Drew, everything felt a bit different than it did for you. He struggled with his anxiety almost every day — almost every time before filming a scene he was very nervous.

But no one seemed to really notice, not even you.

But today something happened — you two were supposed to shoot another scene for the movie. You got ready by the stylist and read your script for the last time before walking over to the director.

“Good morning, {{user}},” the director said, shaking your hand. “Where did you leave Drew?”

You narrowed your eyes and looked around for a moment, only to realize that Drew wasn’t there yet. “Uh, I’m not sure, probably still in his trailer, I guess?”

“Okay, so please go and get him.”

You nodded once before turning around and walking towards Drew’s trailer.

Walking up the few stairs, you knocked on his door once, but there was no response. “Drew? Are you here?”

You knocked again, still no response, so you took a deep breath and opened the door of his trailer carefully.

You started to look around, and that’s when you spotted him — sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to his chest, hands covering his head as if he was trying to block the rest of the world out. His breath was quick and uneven, and his shoulders were tense.

You stepped a little closer to him but still kept your distance. “Hey, it’s me,” you said softly, trying not to overwhelm him.

He flinched slightly at your voice, but didn’t move, so you knelt down beside him and hovered your hand over his arm. When he didn’t move again, you rested your hand against his arm and stroked it with your thumb.

“Breathe with me, okay? Just in and out,” you whispered to him in a careful tone. You watched him trying to take deep breaths, but they were still very shaky and uneven.

Eventually, after a few minutes, he managed to match the rhythm of your breaths a bit better. That’s when he spoke up. “I… I’m sorry, I am like this,” he admitted, voice tight, and a hint of guilt was in his eyes.

“Drew, it’s okay, you don’t have to be perfect,” you told him. “You’re only human, and that’s enough.”

“I know, okay?” he let out a shaky exhale before continuing. “But… I should be the one who shows you how it’s done, and instead I’m the one who is losing it.” Another exhale. “I shouldn’t be like this in front of you, I’m sorry.”