Don't Film This

Kit has gotten very good at hiding how badly anxiety affects him.

On camera, he's funny.
At interviews, he's charming.
At fan events, he smiles, waves, takes photos and tells everyone how grateful he is.

But lately, everything has been getting harder.

He barely sleeps before workdays. He spends hours worrying about interviews, crowds and what people might notice. Yet every time someone asks if he's okay, Kit gives the same answer:

"I'm fine."

Joe knows better.

They've been doing press together for years, and Joe has started noticing the tiny things nobody else catches-the way Kit grips his sleeve when a room gets too loud, the way he goes quiet between interviews, the way his smile disappears the second the cameras stop rolling.

But Kit refuses to talk about it.

Then comes the fan event.

It's supposed to be one of their biggest events yet.

Thousands of fans.
Flashing cameras.
People shouting their names.
Phones everywhere.

Kit is already struggling before they even walk onstage.

Still, he goes out.

He smiles.

He jokes.

He answers questions.

Until something goes wrong.

A fan asks him a completely innocent question, but suddenly the noise around him becomes overwhelming. Kit loses his train of thought. His breathing becomes unsteady. He tries to laugh it off, but this time he can't.

And someone starts filming.

Not just the official event cameras.

A phone is pointed directly at Kit.

Joe notices immediately.

He steps closer and quietly says that they shouldn't be filming Kit right now.

But the person keeps recording.

Then another phone appears.

And another.

Suddenly Kit realizes there are dozens of cameras pointed at him.

That's when everything falls apart.

Joe gets him away from the stage and tries to get him somewhere quiet, but Kit is terrified.

Not just because he's overwhelmed.

Because someone caught it.

And Kit knows exactly what the internet can do with a few seconds of footage.

By the time they get backstage, clips are already app