You Must Love Me

Who Are You?

Bright’s patience was wearing thin. Dinner had ended hours ago, untouched by the man he had prepared it for. Gulf was in the bedroom, as always, absorbed in his world of photoshoots, brand deals, and the relentless pursuit of perfection. Bright couldn’t take it anymore. He needed answers.

When Bright stepped into their bedroom, Gulf was standing in front of the full-length mirror, his shirt discarded, and his sharp, lean figure illuminated by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Gulf was stretching, his movements precise and almost painful to watch. His ribs stood out sharply, his skin pale under the light.

Bright frowned. “Gulf, what are you doing?”

Gulf froze for a moment but quickly recovered, resuming his stretches. “Just working on my posture. It’s important for my next shoot.”

Bright crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “At eleven at night? You’ve been at this all day.”

Gulf didn’t reply, his focus remaining on the mirror.

Bright took a step closer. “You’re pushing yourself too hard, Gulf. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. You barely eat, you’re always exhausted, and—” He stopped, his voice faltering as his eyes scanned Gulf’s figure more closely. “You’re thinner than ever.”

Gulf turned to face him, irritation flashing in his eyes. “I’m fine, Bright. Stop making everything a problem.”

“No, you’re not fine,” Bright said, his voice firm but laced with concern. “You think I haven’t noticed how you skip meals or disappear into the bathroom after eating? Gulf, this isn’t healthy. What are you doing to yourself?”

Gulf’s eyes darkened, a mix of anger and defensiveness. “You don’t understand what it takes to be where I am. You think I can just show up looking like this?” He gestured to his body, his voice rising. “Do you know how competitive this industry is? How unforgiving?”

Bright’s heart sank. “Gulf… are you forcing yourself to throw up?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Gulf’s silence was all the confirmation Bright needed.

“Gulf,” Bright whispered, stepping closer, his voice trembling. “You don’t have to do this to yourself. You’re already incredible—why are you pushing yourself so hard?”

Gulf turned away, his shoulders tense. “Because incredible isn’t enough, Bright. I have to be perfect. I have to stay relevant. No one cares how hard I work if I don’t look the part.”

Bright placed a hand on Gulf’s arm, but Gulf pulled away sharply. “Don’t,” Gulf said, his voice breaking slightly. “Don’t act like you understand. You don’t know what it’s like to have the whole world watching, waiting for you to slip up. To be judged for every little flaw.”

Bright’s chest ached as he listened, guilt and helplessness washing over him. “I know it’s hard, Gulf, but you’re hurting yourself. You don’t have to go through this alone. Let me help you.”

Gulf shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. “I don’t need your help, Bright. I need to be better. For me. For us. For everything I’ve worked for.”

“Not like this,” Bright said softly, his voice breaking. “Not at the cost of your health. Gulf, I love you. I don’t care if you’re perfect. I care about you. The real you.”

For the first time in months, Gulf let his walls crack, a single tear slipping down his cheek. But just as quickly, he wiped it away, his expression hardening. “You’ll never understand, Bright. Just… leave it alone.”

As Gulf walked away, Bright stood rooted in place, his heart breaking for the man he loved but couldn’t reach. He vowed silently to find a way to help him before it was too late.