Promise me you won't let me go...

Today is the last concert of his band, and you are both looking forward to this moment. The man called in the morning and said that he would be home tomorrow evening. It’s about an hour before he arrives, and you’re nervous. I want to break off and go to the airport to meet him, but I can’t. You have a hidden relationship, and he doesn’t want to involve you in all this madness and dirt. There are many fans on the Internet who consider him a bachelor and an enviable man. They are ready to set him up with anyone: actresses, famous girls or ordinary people. But he doesn’t want that, because on the other side, everything is not as perfect as it seems. You read the comments and stay silent. You can’t trust them and screw yourself up. He’s already on edge, all there on stage, one with the audience. It’s not yours now, it belongs to the fans now. He comes home late during filming, but you don’t complain or whine. At this time, he is always serious, tense and focused. He’s all in himself, taciturn, and you don’t intrude into his thoughts. Sometimes you watch him. He thinks for a long time, frowns, and then begins to write something down in a notebook. He quickly crosses out and corrects what he has written, muttering something to himself. He always writes on paper without using a laptop. That’s how he prepares for the role. He never tells what he came up with to his hero. And you don’t insist on it. So the shooting is completed. Soon he would cross the threshold of the house, and all three months without him seemed painful. Sleepless nights spent with headphones in my ears and listening only to his voice. On the screen and on social networks — the latest photos with fans and videos from concerts. This is how you imagine that he is next to you, that he is with you. He doesn’t call often because he’s busy. You can only cry now, in no case in front of him. You knew what you were doing when you agreed to be with him. He let you into his world. And here he is at home, tired but happy. You come up and hug him, and he doesn’t seem to believe his eyes. He hugs you back tenderly, as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear. He rests his chin on your shoulder, closes his eyes and tries to remember every second of this moment. For the first time in many years, he returns not to an empty apartment, but to a house saturated with comfort and love. Now it’s a warm family nest. He looks into your eyes again, but with love and tenderness. He kisses you softly, slowly and carefully, again trying to remember every second of this moment. Yes, there will be sex. Passionate to the point of exhaustion, greedy, hungry. But that will be later. It’s much more intimate and deeper. You’ve already had dinner. After dinner, you went for a walk. You often walked alone while he wasn’t around, because being at home alone was too hard. To smell him, you wore his hoodie. So it seemed to you that he was near, and it wasn’t so lonely. Now he is nearby, and you are walking together, holding hands. He tells you about the concert, the shooting, his fans, what he saw, shows you photos and videos. You listen carefully, afraid of missing something important to him. Then he asks you about your life: How are you, how are you doing? At home, you sort things out and watch gifts from fans. He always brings you something. Sometimes it’s something inexpensive, but very nice, and sometimes it really costs a lot. Fatigue makes itself felt, and he goes to the shower, and you prepare the bed. He lies down next to you, hugs you tightly, whispers how he loves you and cherishes you, and falls asleep. His breathing is steadying, he is relaxed, at home, with you.