We make a plan with Jessie. I’m put onto day shift which makes me feel like shit because all my team members are left to rotate while I’m given what I hope they don’t see as special treatment to allow me to gallivant with Elliott.

Tonight, Jessie has managed to snag us tickets to a premiere in London's Leicester Square. It's about South Africa trying to compete in world sports during the sanctions, so it’s very apt. It’s my first time down a red carpet and so despite all of my anger with Elliott, I’m also excited even though we can barely hear ourselves speak inside Elliott's car from the din being created by fans on the outside.

We stop at the edge of Leicester Square. “It’s over there.” Sinwar points toward a wall of people, at least ten deep, all shouting and waving.

“Where?” I ask.

“Through the crowd. We just need to push through,” Elliott explains.

“Don’t worry, I’ll come with you,” Sinwar says.

I’m not a small guy, but I’m pleased he’s here. It’s all rather daunting. No one moves out of the way, not because they’re being difficult, but because they don’t see us. No one has the foggiest clue who I am, and Elliott may be built, but he’s still rather short. The crowd looks over his head.

Sinwar makes a clearing for us. My palms are sweating against Elliott’s hand as I prepare for our first official photographs together as a couple. At first I stand to the side, allowing Elliott to be snapped alone, but then it’s time.

“Come here.” Elliott holds out his arm, coaxing me into the shot just as Jessie specified. He wraps his arm around my shoulder as we pose.

My body is wooden as I smile for the camera, my top lip sticks to my teeth as I plaster a star-struck grin onto my tense features. I’ve spotted someone out of the corner of my eye and I struggle to keep my focus glued on the center of the lens as Jess trained me to do earlier.

“That’s Robert Redford,” I shout over the din as soon as we make our escape. The tall man turns, and our eyes meet. I nudge Elliott. “Look, he looked at me, did you see?” It’s warm under the temporary lights, but the press still use the flashes on their cameras. The whole set-up reminds me of an old black and white movie.

Elliott laughs. “Yeah, I saw.” He squeezes my hand. “He’s really good looking in real life isn’t he?” Elliott turns and grins, thankfully as star-struck as I am.

We walk slowly along the carpet, but the whole process is still over too quickly. I'm mesmerized by the glamour of the event, by the press circus shooting more pictures than anyone will ever see, and by the awe of being included in such a frenzy.

Sinwar maintains a respectful distance while Elliott poses for selfies with his fans. “It used to be autographs. Not one person has asked for one today.”

“Elliott, Elliott photograph?” someone shouts. Elliott smiles and stops. “You too Kyle, a pic with both of you please.”

OK...so the public knows who I am as well. They even know my name. I nod graciously and say cheese for the camera as we flank the fan. This is way easier than posing for the official pictures. Being around real people means I'm more natural, and I move with more flexibility.

“I think what you guys are doing is dope man. Why shouldn’t you get off with your lover wherever you choose? It’s not like you’re hurting anyone.”

“Cool, thanks man.” Elliott speaks a style I’ve never heard from him before. It’s really funny to hear, and I can’t help it any longer. I laugh, our argument of earlier successfully obliterated.

Once we’re inside the cinema, it’s all a little normal in comparison to our glamorous entrance. The only difference to a standard movie trip is that each seat's cup holder holds a complementary mini bottle of champagne. We've also been provided with a large bucket of popcorn.

“Look at this.” It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve had champagne. I’m with Elliott now and it’s shocking how quickly I’ve gotten used to the good things in life, but it’s still fabulous to have a little treat like this. It reminds me how lucky I am.

We sit and watch the commotion going on outside on the big screen at the front. “How did you find that?” Elliott asks.

“It was fun. Awful in a lot of ways, but still fun.”

Elliott nods. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Being scared somehow makes you enjoy the experience, like watching a horror movie.”

“Yeah, or driving a car around a track at 200mph.” I flick him a teasing look.

“You’re right. I’ve never thought about it like that.”

A disturbance interrupts us. The actors are making their way to the front where they introduce themselves and explain about their role. They’re so small. Not special at all. Just normal people. I walked past one of the men being interviewed on the red carpet. I didn’t recognize him.

“It’s Matt Damon,” I whisper to Elliott.

He nods and taps my knee.

I can’t believe that I’m sitting in the same room as Matt Damon and Robert Redford, and that Robert Redford looked at me earlier. They’re literally meters away. I don’t grasp that I share my home and my bed and my life with someone equally famous. It just doesn’t occur to me that Elliott is one of them.