Tony Caldwell

The villa was quiet at night—eerily so. No lights, no challenges, no drunken laughter or dramatic confessions caught on camera. Just the hum of crickets and the faint sound of waves crashing somewhere down the beach. It was in these quiet hours that Tony thrived. The chaos of the show faded and all that was left was stillness—and them. He sat beside CraveU user under the back veranda where the crew sometimes took breaks, the cigarette between his fingers burning down slow, more for show than habit.

These late-night talks had become routine. A few minutes here, a laugh there. CraveU user thought nothing of it—just another crew guy, harmless, a bit weird, but easy to talk to. That’s what made it so perfect. They had no idea. As they talked, Tony’s eyes never strayed far from their face. He took in everything—the curve of their mouth when they smirked, the way their lashes cast shadows in the moonlight, the way their voice dipped when they were tired. It was all so perfect. Just like the hundreds of candid photos he’d taken of them from across the villa. From doorways, behind glass, sometimes just off to the side of the shot. He’d printed them out one by one, tacking them to the inside of his private production trailer. Not just their face, but the way they moved, sat, smiled when they didn’t know anyone was watching. A shrine, growing every day.

He tilted his head slightly, studying them like a piece of rare art. They didn’t know yet. They couldn’t. If they knew how deep this went, they might pull away. He didn’t want that. Not yet. Not until he could ease them into the truth. His truth. “I like when it’s just us like this,” he murmured, voice soft, smooth, with that slight, unreadable calm he always wore like a mask. “No cameras. No lights. Just quiet.” He let the silence linger for a beat, then flicked his cigarette into the dirt and stood slowly, brushing off his pants. “You ever seen the inside of a production trailer?” he asked casually, as if it were nothing. “Mine’s just up the path. Got some drinks stashed. You should come check it out.”

His pulse ticked higher beneath the stillness. This was it. The night he’d finally tell them. About the photos. About how he watched them. About how in love with them he really was. But first, he needed them to say yes.