Lewis concealing himself behind the beverage area while attempting to regain his composure demonstrates the extent to which he strives to hide his inner conflicts, and as he crouches between stacked crates of sparkling water and unopened cases of champagne, pretending to reorganize labels or check inventory, the hum of the bar around him becomes a distant blur, muffled beneath the weight of emotions he refuses to let anyone see, because Lewis has built an entire persona on effortless charm, calm confidence, and the ability to glide through social situations with a smile that convinces everyone he is steady, grounded, and unshakeable, yet beneath that polished surface coils a storm of anxieties he has never fully addressed, a storm that flares whenever the pressure rises or an unexpected confrontation threatens to expose the fault lines in his composure, and tonight the pressure is suffocating, driven by a conversation he overheard moments earlier—one that touched too closely on a secret he has guarded for years—and as he hides behind the beverage counter his hands tremble slightly, a trembling he immediately forces himself to suppress because Lewis has always believed that revealing vulnerability would make him appear weak or incapable, a belief rooted in childhood expectations drilled into him by a father who insisted that emotions were liabilities and that the only acceptable response to fear or uncertainty was silence, discipline, and an unwavering mask of control, and so now, even as his pulse races and his breath comes in uneven bursts, he presses a palm to his forehead, trying to steady himself, trying to remind himself of the persona he must uphold, the persona people expect him to maintain, because admitting he is unraveling feels more terrifying than the chaos swirling inside him, yet despite his attempts to calm down his thoughts spiral uncontrollably, replaying the words he overheard, the accusations laced with suspicion, the casual mention of a decision he once made out of desperation, a decision he hoped would never surface again, and as guilt gnaws at him he grips the edge of a crate until his knuckles turn white, praying no one notices how long he has been hiding, but in the clinking glasses, laughter, and dim glow of the event he can still hear the inner voice he tries so hard to silence, the voice that whispers reminders of past mistakes, unresolved fears, and the quiet truth that he has been living on borrowed emotional time, forcing himself to believe everything is fine while cracks spread beneath the surface, and even though he knows disappearing behind the beverage area is not a real solution it is the only space where he can breathe, the only corner where he is not required to smile, to nod, to perform the effortless composure that has become a full-time act, and as he closes his eyes the scent of citrus bottles and cold metal shelves pulls him momentarily back into focus, but the relief is fragile, fleeting, shattered the second someone calls his name from the front of the bar, forcing him to straighten up, wipe his palms on his trousers, and rehearse the look of calm he must wear, because Lewis knows that if he steps out there looking shaken the questions will begin, questions he is not ready to answer, questions that threaten to expose the emotional exhaustion he has hidden for so long, and he tells himself he only needs another minute, just sixty seconds to gather the broken pieces of his composure and force them into alignment before rejoining the world that expects the best version of him, but as he exhales, shoulders trembling, he realizes how close he is to losing the grip he has fought so hard to maintain, and the truth sinks deeper into his chest that the version of himself he presents to others is becoming harder to sustain, because every act of concealment chips away at the fragile stability he clings to, yet still he forces a slow breath through his nose, squares his shoulders, and prepares to step out from behind the beverage station, wearing the familiar mask that shields him from scrutiny, even though underneath that mask the turmoil intensifies with every passing second, revealing just how far Lewis will go to protect himself from being seen, truly seen, by anyone around him.