it started with a dm

Then it dropped. The announcement.

Theo, chaotic, half-anxious, openly gay Theo, had been cast as the official singing voice of Telemachus.

Not background and no, not demo vocals.

Official.

Suddenly, the fandom's mystery voice was real and he had a name, and of course ,the fans devoured it.

"WHO IS THIS THEO AND WHY DOES HE SOUND LIKE HEARTBREAK??"

"His vibrato is the sound of a man mourning his ancient Greek boyfriend and also trying not to cry on the bus."

"He sounds like Antinous made him pancakes once and then ghosted him for ten years and now he still eats pancakes alone."

Theo's follower count quadrupled in days.

His inbox? Flooded. Fanart, compilation videos, and one artist animated a full Sharpwolf music video to his Telemachus ballad and DMed him, "Sorry if this is weird but your voice made me believe in love again. My cat cried too."

Suddenly, Theo wasn't just a name in the credits. He was everywhere. Every interview, every fan theory, and every ship post. He wasn't just Anton's secret anymore and it terrified him.

He turned off comments, turned off tags, switched his notifications to "mentions only", and stopped opening DMs. He couldn't even listen to himself sing without hearing the noise; every replay dissected by strangers and every note analyzed like evidence in a fandom courtroom.

It felt like his voice didn't belong to him anymore and Anton noticed. He always noticed.

One night, as everything started to spiral, when Theo couldn't sleep because his brain kept running the line "You were the only one who made me soft" on loop, his phone lit up.

Anton (12:38 AM):
"Are you okay with this pace?
The fame?
The noise?"

Theo stared at it for a long time.

Then typed, deleted. Typed again and settled on the only thing that mattered:

Theo (12:41 AM):
"Are you?"

A pause.

Then a voice message came in.

Anton (12:49 AM):

"No.
I hate being looked at.
Always have.
But.....I like being heard.
Especially by you."

His voice was soft.....lower than usual. Not tired, just....unguarded. Like he wasn't speaking to a mic anymore, but to Theo's ribs, directly. Theo listened to it five times, saved it in a folder named "heartache (personal use)", and set the audio as his alarm even though it made him emotional every time.

And maybe he should've waited....maybe he should've let the silence settle.

But he didn't.

Theo (1:12 AM):
"Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if we were just... normal.
Like, if we could live together.
Have a dog. Or three.
Sing dumb love songs in the kitchen.
Not worry who's watching or guessing.
Just......be."

No bubbles. No response. Six minutes passed.

Then—

Anton (1:18 AM):
"Maybe one day.
But for now.....
I'll sing you whatever you want.
Even if no one else can hear it."

Theo didn't cry. Not in the dramatic, movie way. But his throat tightened and his chest did that stupid soft ache thing it always did when Anton was too honest. He closed his eyes and imagined it: that imaginary apartment; the soft bark of a dog in the hallway as they argued over what key to sing in, toast burning in the background, and Anton with wet hair and no shirt, making coffee while humming some nonsense tune. Theo's voice echoing off the tile, singing dumb lyrics into a wooden spoon, and warm hands finding his waist mid-verse.