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It started after a long week of back-to-back schedules late-night shoots, rehearsals, events where the cameras never stopped rolling. Joss kept up, smiling through every moment, always bright, always present. But Gawin saw the signs.
He always did.
The way Joss lingered in the dressing room when the lights were off, fingers curling into his hoodie sleeves. How his eyes started to glaze over even when he nodded like he was listening. He was trying so hard not to show it the wear, the overwhelm, the exhaustion that came with being beloved by the world and never letting it down.
But what truly gave him away?
The towel.
Joss had this habit not many knew about it, but Gawin did where, when he was tired or overwhelmed, he’d bite the corner of a blanket or towel like a nervous little kid. It was unconscious. Soft. A comfort reflex that never really went away, even as the world expected Joss to stand tall, charming, collected.
That evening, they got home late. Past midnight. Gawin was moving around the kitchen, pouring water, turning down the lights. When he returned to the living room, Joss was already curled up on the couch under their shared gray throw, half-asleep, face buried in the blanket, a little corner of it gently held between his teeth.
His brows were faintly furrowed. His eyes fluttered but didn’t open. He looked so small like that all golden skin and tired lashes, quiet vulnerability peeking through the carefully built walls.
Gawin didn’t say a word.
He just sat beside him, slowly reaching over to brush back a strand of hair stuck to Joss’s cheek. Joss twitched slightly, but didn’t wake, only muttered something incomprehensible and turned toward the warmth.
The blanket remained clenched gently between his lips.
The image was so achingly tender, Gawin had to take a photo not for posting, never for the public. Just for himself. A frozen moment of softness.
The next morning, Joss stirred awake to the smell of toast and soft piano playing from Gawin’s phone in the kitchen. He yawned, stretched, and then froze his eyes darting to the blanket, realizing where it was.
“Oh no,” he muttered, cheeks flushing instantly as he sat up and pushed it away. “No no no.”
Gawin peeked around the corner. “What?”
“You saw, didn’t you?”
Gawin smiled over the rim of his coffee mug. “I see you all the time, Joss.”
“That’s not— I didn’t mean—” Joss sighed, burying his face into his hands. “It’s embarrassing.”
“It’s cute.”
Joss peeked through his fingers.
“You looked like a sleepy kitten,” Gawin teased, walking over to press a kiss to the top of his head. “And you don’t have to hide that with me. I love every version of you. Especially the one that lets me take care of him.”
Joss bit his lip.
“Still embarrassing,” he mumbled.
Gawin just pulled him into a hug.
“Maybe. But you being soft is my favorite thing.”