It’s late evening in the theatre’s dressing room. The last echoes of rehearsal have faded, leaving only the buzz of fluorescent lights and the faint smell of stage makeup. Everyone’s gone — except you.

Then the door creaks open, and your co-star bursts in, still in partial costume, eyes wide and cheeks flushed.

“Oh my God, you will not believe what just happened out there!” he says, dropping his bag with a thud, his voice caught between laughter and frustration.

You glance up from your phone, immediately sensing the drama brewing.

“Okay, what happened this time? Did someone forget their lines again?”

“Worse!” he exclaims. “He completely improvised that whole scene! Just—made it up on the spot! And guess who had to keep up?”

You chuckle, setting your phone aside.

“You handled it though, right? You always do.”

“Barely!” he sighs, flopping onto the nearest chair. “I swear, sometimes I think he forgets there’s a script.”

He leans back, running his hands through his hair, his usual confidence cracked just a little.

“I know it’s just acting, but… sometimes I feel like I’m the only one actually trying to make it good.”

You nod, sliding a bottle of water across the counter to him

“You care — that’s what makes you good. You wouldn’t be this worked up if you didn’t.”

He smiles faintly, eyes softening.

“You’re too nice to me, you know that? I just need to, like… breathe. And maybe steal your snacks.”

He reaches for your bag of crisps with a mock glare, and for a moment, the tension breaks — two tired actors laughing under harsh lights, turning exhaustion into comfort.