See No

The incident left you restless. The hunger that you once felt disappearing into something that never existed in the first place. Even the warmth of the burrito turned cold on your walk home. It's newly nauseating smell poisoning your senses the whole way but you didn't have the strength to toss it. So now it rests in the top rack of your fridge, probably to be picked and nipped at until it goes bad.

Your tongue picked out the remaining scraps from your teeth. The texture spat out into the sink and washed away before you sulked to the mattress. It was cold. The open window of the apartment pulling in the stinging cold of London and is absorbed by the fabrics. You couldn't complain though, only welcoming the opposing temperature as you wrap the sheet around yourself, pulling some over your head. 

You believed for years that you had this under control. That the things that you see won't hold you back from normal life. Yet, here you are. Yearning for comfort from another to tell you that nothing will hurt you, that you're safe with them... In their arms.  

“You idiot.” You whisper some curses to yourself as you reach out to a candle, scooping up the abandoned lighter at your feet with the other hand. The flame sparked, grinding against the rusty gears. You don't remember where you got this lighter— you just know it's been through a lot of shit with you. And by the looks of it, time is catching up to it; as it is with you. 

Phone. — Stranger! Burrito. — Phone! Phone! Fire! Lighter. — No! 

The candle dances with life a minute later. The pad of your thumb burning with your stubbornness. Most people would give up after a couple of times, believing that their lighter just kicked the bucket. But, for some reason, you couldn't let it go. You didn't want to – so you shoved a random pin around until it became a torch. The roaring flame nearly burns your lips in its wake. It reminded you of a dragon, throwing its head back and sending a cry of flames into the air in its last breath. 

Sun... Safe.

The voice made you flinch back. A lingering warmth scatters over your injured forearm as you look up; a light welcoming you. Their body relaxed on the mattress with their taller form as they pulled away from your bubble. Your eyes watch their falling hand before looking at your arm. Dust bunnies of light bounced near. The sound of, giggles(?) kissing the side of your face. 

You weren't sure if this whole ordeal made you want to vomit or not... Or that was just the adrenaline dying down and you were finally able to process the fear from the night. 

As the sun rises so does the brightness of the soul. Their hands reach out, slithering over your shaky ones. They whispered words of comfort as you focus on the candle. The wax melted halfway with a crackling wick. The sight made your eyebrows furrow– it was near the top just a second ago... Wasn't it? 

My baby.

“What?” 

You gasp as the hands cradle your face. Its words returning to mutters after its shy confession. Confusion blossomed in your chest with the buzz of bees, your eyes bouncing around their form as they pulled themselves close. 

This felt, old... Not in the sense of age but remembrance. This touch, the faint words, it all felt like you've experienced it before. It felt like your hands knew where to go and how to hold them back. But, you wouldn't dare, you wouldn't dare corrupt the pure soul. You wouldn't— you can't. 

So you don't. 

You're left to be a statue, being worshipped with ‘loving’ touches that you cannot return. 

Steven was dazed through his morning routine. He was able to hold a faint conversation with Marc whilst feeding Gus II, but it wasn't processed much after that. He wasn't sure why, Marc said he wasn't up, and nor was he so why was he so bloody exhausted? And why did his hands ache? Maybe he slept on them in the middle of the night? 

“Are you sure you didn't do anything?” He questioned his reflection while entering the museum, giving a strained smile to some passers. Marc denied him running out for Khonshu’s aid, which usually is unusual but he's grown to accept the weird behavior over the month. It's been easier on his and Steven’s life anyway. More sleep, more time to themselves... Boring... But, normal. That's what he wanted. Right? Right, Marc?... That is, what you wanted. 

“Stevie! You're late! Again!” 

Donna’s antagonizing voice pierced through Steven’s thoughts. He tends to ignore her when she uses the wrong name but looking at the time; “No! No, I’m not! Right on the dot actually!... Right on the dot.” He mumbled as he stared at the clock. A smile filled with excitement appears as he looks back at the woman. Her anger makes the joy of his achievement fall short. “W-Whatever! Get the shop open!” 

Steven flees, fingers fixing his nametag as he closes in on the gift shop. “Hear that Marc? I’m not late! We aren't late.” Marc gave a small comment of acknowledgment before growing quiet. He wasn't sure what he was stuck on anymore. Or maybe he's still tired? Perhaps they woke up too early. 

While Marc was stressed, Steven went on with his day with excitement. He felt proud of the small achievement. It made him recognize that he can do things right! He really could no matter what anyone else said. That thought made a noise of fury squeak past his throat as he sneaks off to welcome some visitors. 

--

“It was believed that Nut, goddess of the sky and heavens would swallow,” Steven made a sort of motion with his hands like he was going to cradle something. “Ra, the Sun God, each evening. They saw it as Nut showing them the cycle of death and rebirth. As she would rebirth him in the morning.” 

His smile shined as he lifts his hands, opening them in a way to try to visualize the sun rising. He was more than ready to look up and see the faces of guests, just as interested as he was in the mythology... Only for no one to be there. The people he actually walked up to made some great distance away from him... They must’ve left the moment he started. “Oh uh. Right! See ya around. I’ll be at the uh- shop if you have any questions.” 

“Wasnt it believed she was the source of the Milky Way?” 

You watch as the shoulders lift with the head. The eyes of brown, darkened by your shades following your voice. He seemed— confused the longer he looked at you. Maybe it was the sunglasses. Most people who were sunglasses inside are douchebags or blind people... Matt would've shaken his head at you if he knew you thought that. (And laughed). 

“Y-yes. That's what they believed.” He nods as you approach the display. His eyes follow you with this focus you've never seen before. It made you feel– weird. “And life.” 

“Yeah. I forgot how interesting Egyptian Mythology is. So many elements and symbols... Such complication and mystery make it beautiful.” 

Steven felt his throat go dry. His lips at this tremble as he tried to form words— anything, to urge your knowledge to flow. But oh, that word. “Not as beautiful as you.” He whispered. The words were nearly inaudible but with the way you reacted, you heard, loud and clear. 

“Oh goodness! I didn't mean- no I mean I did! You're beautiful I just, didn't mean I say it! Not like anyone shouldn't say you aren't- because you are!” Steven throws his hands about, nervously chuckling to himself as he went on. “Now I'm rambling. Ha, sorry about that. Sorry.” 

“I don't mind.” You smile with a reassuring tone. It was just the perfect whisper, not too quiet as if you were spreading gossip but also not too loud for nosy people. It was just for him...

“You don't?” He leaned forward a bit. Your eyes focused on the way he tried to search for consolation.

“No.” You shook your head, prying your attention back to the display. “Not at all... I'm more of a listener, so I like when people talk. It helps me focus.” You could feel the migraine creep up your neck with whispers of the Old Age. They didn't annoy you much it's just they were a lot of them, and they were loud. Too loud with too many voices left you distracted from your thoughts. 

“I’m Steven.” 

“Steven with a V.” 

“Steven with a V.” 

Your voices echoed. The two of you entangling in words in a way that Steven couldn’t help but smile at. You weren’t sure if you could feel the same way he was– but his face. With this, excitement he had, only the coldest of hearts wouldn't be able to smile back at him. You suppose this was your body telling you it was still warm. A bit cold and damaged but not frozen. 

“I’m [Name]... It's nice to meet you,” 

Stee — P– hen? 

“Steven with a V.” 

He nods with haste, giving a similar greeting. Maybe the voices would grow quieter with him. You’d be the one to listen and he’d be the one to ramble away all of those nasty whispers. As if his words were a chant– or prayer that everything would answer to. It made you feel - safe.

Such a feeling grew to a mutual understanding as the two of you continued through the day. He did have to run off on the occasion to tend to the shop but the moment he was freed he bolted back to you. Needless to say, it was a nice fuzz that took over your ribs when you watched him stumble toward you. Nearly knocking someone over because of his impatience. 

You couldn't remember the last time when someone showed such impatience to return to you. In reality, the way Steven treated you was new. Those in New York weren't entirely rude to you but they also weren't this nice. It confused your mind and forced random facts out about you in a way of defense. But, Steven ate it up and glowed at your words. The energy that he emitted grew suffocating as he keeps the conversation flowing. It made your head swirl and lips tremble in a way that you couldn't explain. 

Hell, when you told him the reason for your sunglasses (excused for chronic migraines) he became this gentle mass. His voice was a tad bit softer as he showed sympathy. Him telling you he understands what it's like to feel like that from time to time. It's not a nice feeling, no, not at all and he knows that. From nausea down to the discombobulation it can cause. That was the moment you could feel this fall. The walls that you've rebuilt over the decade had been pulled by your own hands to pull Steven in. To allow his kind soul to befriend yours. 

It was nice but deathly. 

Your being understanding that if there was a fault in the program that this moment, these passing hours would be broken into moments to remember in depression hours. But, even if you understood that. You couldn't stop yourself from responding to the man. Letting your lips dance with laughter and freedom as he talks about some Egyptian god or goddess. Such information would be dug into the deepest folds of your brain to bring up in later conversations.