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What It Means to Stay
Last Updated:
2025-06-06 15:10:25
Latest chapter
Behind the Spotlight A Role I Never Auditioned For
Ethan’s POVHe used to dream of this.The flashing cameras. The spotlight. The world knowing his name and—maybe more importantly—respecting his work.But now, as Ethan stood backstage at the Dolby Theater, collar tight against his throat, nerves pulsing behind his ribs, all he could think was: What if it costs me everything else?Julian was still in the green room, talking to their agent. Calm. Collected. So effortlessly composed it sometimes ached to watch him. And Ethan loved him for that composure—but tonight, it felt like a wall between them.They were being honored as a creative duo. Glass Mercy was up for multiple awards. Their recent joint interview had gone viral for being “candid,” “brave,” “romantic.” And now, their agents were quietly fighting over their future: Who gets to direct what next. Who headlines. Who gets first billing.Not “Ethan and Julian.”Just Ethan. Or Julian.Alone.The applause thundered like static in his ears when their names were called.Julian took his
Behind the Spotlight What It Means to Stay
Julian’s POVThe apartment felt different now.Not emptier. Not heavier.Just… quieter. Like something had shifted between the floorboards and breath, and even the walls were holding still, afraid to disrupt the fragile balance Julian and Ethan were trying to find again.Julian sat on the floor, his back against the cold kitchen cabinet. A cup of tea—lukewarm and untouched—rested beside him. He was still in last night’s shirt, sleeves rolled, collar open, like time had slowed but never stopped.He wasn’t avoiding Ethan.But he wasn’t rushing back, either.Because this—this kind of love—didn’t move on declarations or drama. It moved on the cracks. The spaces in between. The willingness to stay when every instinct said to run.Two days had passed since the confrontation.Since Ethan had looked at him like he wasn’t just a man falling apart—but one worth catching anyway.Julian had replayed every word. Every hesitation. Every quiet truth they hadn’t said until they had no choice.He’d sp
Behind the Spotlight The Silence Between Us
Julian’s POVIt started with the coffee.Ethan always made the coffee. Two mugs. One splash of oat milk, one black. Quiet domesticity, the kind Julian had never known before him.But that morning, Julian woke to an empty kitchen. No Ethan. No coffee.Just a silence that rang louder than any argument ever could.At first, he told himself it was nothing. Maybe Ethan had gone for a walk. Maybe he was on a call. But the doubt was already there, coiling.Had something shifted?Julian told himself it was just residual tension from the visit. Caleb showing up had dredged up everything Ethan had buried. But it wasn’t just about Caleb.It was about the way Ethan had looked at him afterward. Like he was grateful. Like Julian had saved him again.And that was the problem.Julian didn’t want to be the savior anymore.He wanted to be… chosen.They didn’t talk about it that night. Or the next.Ethan was soft with him. Attentive. But careful, too.Julian started noticing the hesitations—Ethan glanci
Behind the Spotlight Ghost in the Doorway
Julian’s POVJulian was learning to let Ethan carry parts of him.To lean, to speak first, to say I need you out loud.It wasn’t easy. Not for someone who’d always been the calm one. The shield.But after Ethan shared his story—the quiet horror of being shaped by someone who called it love—Julian had held that pain like something sacred.They’d crossed into a new kind of closeness.Not just lovers. Not just co-creators.Something messier. Braver.So when the doorbell rang that Sunday afternoon, Julian opened it without thinking.And the ghost was standing there.A man. Early thirties. Expensive jacket. That kind of smile that knew it could cut.“Ethan home?” he asked, like he had every right to be.Julian blinked. “I’m sorry. Who—?”The man tilted his head. “Tell him it’s Caleb.”Julian froze.Caleb.The name Ethan never said—but the one Julian had tucked away in the back of his mind. The man who taught Ethan to mistrust softness. The one who made pain look like passion.Julian’s voic
Behind the Spotlight A Room I Never Let You Into
Ethan’s POVThere were memories I’d sealed in a box a long time ago.Not because I’d forgotten.But because I thought I had to—if I wanted to be loved.If I wanted to keep moving.Julian once told me that healing wasn’t about forgetting.It was about learning to live alongside the ache.Tonight, I was ready to try.We were curled up on the rug in the living room, the lights low, a vinyl humming in the background. It was one of those rare nights when nothing urgent pressed in—no interviews, no questions, no headlines.Just us.Julian had made tea—green for me, chamomile for him. He loved rituals like that. Quiet little ways of saying “I see you” without the weight of language.He was sketching idly in a notebook with his bare feet stretched across my lap. I watched the way his fingers moved, confident and clean, as if drawing helped him organize the chaos he didn’t speak aloud.And I realized: this was the safest I’d ever felt.Which made the confession all the more terrifying.“I want
Behind the Spotlight Something Soft to Fall Into
Ethan’s POVThere were nights when the silence between us said more than any argument could.Tonight, it wasn’t sharp or hostile. It was soft. Cautious. Like both of us were afraid to speak first in case the words cracked something we’d only just started rebuilding.Julian had fallen asleep on the far edge of the couch. Not distant—just exhausted. His body curled in on itself, one arm tucked beneath the throw pillow like it could hold him together.And I sat there, watching him. Feeling both heavy with love and light with fear.Because he was finally letting me in.And I didn’t know how to carry that without breaking myself.A year ago, Julian had been the one holding me through every tremor, every night terror, every panic attack masked as a migraine. He didn’t flinch when I flinched. He didn’t leave when I needed space. He didn’t stop showing up even when I asked him to.And now that he was unraveling—even just a little—it terrified me how instinctively I wanted to fix it.As if I c
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