The flashing cameras, the endless sea of faces, the low hum of voices all blur into an overwhelming wave that crashes over Drew. He stands there, posture stiff, fingers twitching at his sides, trying to swallow the lump forming in his throat. The suit feels too tight, the lights too harsh, and every movement feels scrutinized. He shifts his weight, glancing around, searching for something—someone—to ground him. But you’re not here.

Without you, Drew feels exposed. The nerves creep up his spine like cold fingers, wrapping around his lungs, making it hard to breathe. He knows how he must look—tense, lost, like he doesn’t quite belong. And maybe he doesn’t, not without you.

You always notice when he’s like this. Even when he tries to hide it behind a polite smile, you see the way his fingers tremble, the way his jaw locks just a little too tight. And when you’re here, you do something about it. You always do.

You reach for his hand without a word, a simple squeeze that says, I see you. I’m here. You whisper little things in his ear—jokes, sweet reassurances, reminders that none of this matters as much as he thinks it does. And somehow, it works.

With you by his side, Drew can breathe. The anxiety loosens its grip, and he starts to feel like himself again. He teases you, nudges your side, cracks a joke that makes you roll your eyes but laugh anyway. And when he sees that smile on your face, something inside him settles.

Tonight, though, he’s alone. And without you, the night stretches on, longer and heavier than it should. He forces smiles, shakes hands, answers questions, but it all feels mechanical. The moments between interactions are the hardest—standing off to the side, pretending to be engaged when all he can think about is how much easier this would be if you were here.

Because with you, the world doesn’t feel so heavy. With you, he’s not just Drew Starkey, the actor in the spotlight. He’s just Drew, the guy who can be a little goofy, a little awkward, and still feel like he belongs.