It was coming up to midnight, and Steven was showing absolutely no sign of sobering up.
This was not how you imagined your evening going. After a difficult couple of weeks, you’d suggested a night out to Steven, and ,surprisingly, he had agreed immediately. A ‘quick beer’ at the new bar you’d heard about from your colleagues at the British museum had turned quickly turned into you wondering how the hell you were going to get a man twice your size and barely able to stand by himself back home safely.
Smiling at the waitress, you looped his arm through yours and pulled him through the doorway into the chill night air.
‘Come on, I need to go home-‘
‘Do we have to? It’s really cold!’ He complained, leaning on you so heavily you had to catch yourself before he could push you headfirst into a lamp post.
‘Yes, we both have work tomorrow morning and you know Donna would crucify us for being so much as slightly hungover’ you respond, laughing as he tripped over his own feet. He’d spent too long studying his reflection in a darkened window, and with his already shit balance…
‘Don’ like winter’ he mumbled under his breath, making you laugh again.
Propping him up against the wall, you take off your (thankfully oversized) cardigan, knowing full well you were already half frozen with it on, before taking his arms and pushing them through the knitted sleeves as best you could given that any wrong push could land him face first into the dirty pavement. Eventually, he’s more or less wearing it, and you have to stifle a giggle at the sight of the 6’2 man wearing your pink fluffy cardigan over the top of his usual work outfit. The humour doesn’t last long however, as Steven groans and begins to shut his eyes. You, fearing he might actually just fall asleep right there, quickly rush to him, placing his arm around you neck once more.
‘Can’t you make him be quiet?’ Steven’s voice was so muffled by sleepiness you almost didn’t hear him over the sound of your own laboured breathing- already you were sure you’d pulled at least two muscles in your back and side from supporting him. His body was like a furnace against you, and you unconsciously pressed yourself into him as much as you could. One side of your body was now freezing still, but it was better than nothing, you supposed.
‘I can’t hear anyone, Steven my love, let’s just get you home, yeah?’ You pant, hearing more muffled complaints and grumblings that you couldn’t fully understand. Somehow you still had four more blocks of this agony left to go, and you could feel the sweat spreading all over your lower back from the strain of half carrying Steven.
‘Y/N?’
‘Yeah?’
‘I don’t… I don’t want to go to sleep’
You paused. It had taken a month or two, but eventually he’d told you all about his sleeping disorders, the waking up in weird places, and the crushing tiredness he felt constantly. You knew it had affected him more than he let on, and you understood the fear in not knowing where or when you’d wake up, but you’d never really assumed it had actually made him afraid to go to sleep. You should’ve guessed. After Steven had missed a full two days of work, you’d been worried he’d been kidnapped or was in danger- the relief you’d felt when you saw his name pop up on your phone vanished the moment he started speaking. Around a day later, he’d arrived back in London from Latvia, and told you the whole crazy story over a cup of tea in his apartment- the first time you’d ever been inside. That night, you’d stayed over to make sure it didn’t happen again, and you’d become closer than ever, but the disorder hadn’t gotten any better; just two days before today, you’d had to explain to a very confused old man what Steven was doing covered in dust and blood on his roof (tbh you had no idea how to explain that one, so you just waffled on about ‘official government business’ until he just waved you both away and slammed his door in your faces). Heaving him up a bit more from the slouching position he was currently in, you responded,
‘I.. I know Steven, I can stay over if you think it’ll’ grunt ‘help… you know I’d do anything if it meant you didn’t have to worry’ grunt ‘about all of this’
At this point you were practically piggy-backing him, the dull throb in your back having deepened into full on cramping- how you were going to get up for work the next morning was a mystery, and not something you were currently trying to think about.
‘It’s nice… having someone who knows about all of this, someone I can talk to…’ the last words were slurred, his eyes blinking slower and slower until there were pretty much fully shut.
Part of you wanted to be touched by what he said, but to be honest it was enough that you hadn’t collapsed from the added weight, although that was absolutely a possibility given that you still had a whole street left and then all the way up to the fifth floor of the complex.
At this point, words were beyond you, so you just settled for what you hoped was an affectionate sigh and continued your never-ending journey to Steven’s apartment.
At last, you were dragging both of your bodies through the door after an unnecessarily long fumble with the door code that nearly ended with your nose going smack into the door handle (?) (yeah you didn’t know how that happened either tbh)
Next- getting him into the lift without waking up the whole complex.
Easy enough.
Right?
You only just got him into the lift through sheer force of will.
It didn’t help that he’d chosen the exact moment it wouldn’t have been acceptable to be noisy to become conscious and start having a ‘conversation’ with himself, or, as he was yelling loud enough to wake the dead, the little American man living in his head. You’d heard about this before- the voice that sounded just like him but American, and you’d both just put it up to auditory hallucinations due to the lack of sleep, but you’d never actually been around when he started ‘hearing’ this voice. It was one thing to hear about it, and a completely different thing to be there while it happened. If you were being honest, it was a little freaky, given that it had taken so long for you to get home that it was now near to one in the morning. What was worse? Your sweet colleague and friend having had so little sleep that they’re hallucinating actual voices, or the voices not actually being a hallucination and something more ghostly? You couldn’t decide.
Although as you were standing there, Steven slurring an argument that sounded strangely along the lines of ‘im not drunk, you are’ slumped in the corner of the lift, doors closing, the issue that stood out to you the most was without a doubt the agony that was your back. You’d had awful back pain due to scoliosis since you were a teenager, but you hadn’t had pain like this since before you’d had the operation. This was like fire, coursing all through your muscles and no amount of massaging was helping. Not to mention you were practically a capsicle from where you’d given away your only source of warmth.
Speaking of said source of warmth…
‘Yeah? Well at least I’m not a reflection!’
Oh lord.
‘Steven?’
‘I am not drunk!’
Smiling a bit in disbelief, you crouched down to his level, leaning to one side so his met yours. You’d never seen him like this before… it was cute funny. As your eyes met, his vision seemed to clear a little, like he’d just become aware of your presence.
‘Y/N? What are you… what you doing here?’ He mumbled, the corners of his mouth tilting up a bit as he looked into your eyes with an easiness you hadn’t seen him have before. Usually direct eye contact wasn’t something he was a fan of, and to be honest, neither were you, but in the harsh light of the graffitied elevator something felt different between you both. After a while, he almost shyly averted his eyes to study your shirt, and you took the opportunity to get more of a conversation out of him.
‘Are you always this easy to get drunk? You don’t seem the type’ you smile, and he returns your smile, gaze unfocused toward the floor.
‘Well I suppose… I haven’t really eaten a whole lot recently’ he said offhandedly, his hands started twisting in his lap, his eyes meeting yours for a second as as he finished speaking. You on the other hand, had frozen.
‘What do you mean, haven’t eaten? Steven?’ It was one thing to be a lightweight, a completely different thing for him to be not eating enough.
‘Well… you know… Donna’s not very happy with me righ’ now… after I missed work two days ago she… she, well, she docked my pay’ the last bit was mumbled, the sleep setting in again as his eyes began to flutter closed.
You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. You knew Steven wasn’t always the best with remembering he needed food and water to survive, but for him to not be able to buy food because of something that wasn’t even his fault…
You were going to push Donna off a cliff. Into a pit of snakes. Venomous snakes.
‘Steven, honey, when was the last time you ate?’ Even to your own ears, your voice sounded strange, anger changing your normally teasing tone into something flat and cold.
How could you have let this happen?
‘Hmm… I had a sandwich…’ you breathed out a sigh of relief, a sandwich was better than nothing- ’two days ago.’
Breathing became difficult again, and it had nothing to do with the fact that you’d been all but carrying him for several blocks. You barely noticed the lift doors opening, your eyes getting hot and dry and wet all at once. Your only friend, who you knew would have been punished in some way for his continued absences despite his disorder, hadn’t had the money to pay for even just a salad. And you hadn’t even thought to check in.
Why hadn’t he said something? Did he not trust me enough to tell me?
You barely registered slinging his arm over your shoulder as you prepared to make the final jump- getting him into his apartment. Grabbing the other arm and placing it gently around your neck, you pull him slowly to his feet, ready to catch him should his feet fail him. Once you’re sure he’s not about to keel over, you steadily began to lead him down the corridor. Its only when you’re already half- way down that you even notice you’re on your floor, but as long as Steven gets into a bed within the next five minutes you couldn’t care less. Once he’s asleep and safe, you’ll be doing what you should’ve done before- taking care of him the way you know he’d do for you.
Of course, easier said than done.
Lips still white with rage, and a not-all-there incredibly heavy man attached to your torso, unlocking your door wasn’t the easiest thing in the world. From dropping the keys, to nearly falling backwards every time Steven overbalanced (around a solid six to eight times), it seems the world is actually just out to get you. Once you’ve finally made it through, you have to practically throw Steven toward the bed, before taking the time to unlace and remove his boots, pushing his legs fully onto the bed. For a moment, you just sit there next to his head, and watch the steady rising and falling of his chest. You’d failed. You’d failed HIM. it wasn’t often you felt guilt- there was almost always a good explanation for your actions, but this was different for you. Shaking slightly, your hands found themselves playing with his hair absently, while the storm in your head grew. Reacting to your light touch, one of his hands found yours, softly wrapping around your wrist. The contact pulled you out of your own head, and you looked down to see his eyes half open, looking straight at you.
’S’wrong?’ He murmured.
‘Nothing, Steven, go to sleep for bit, you look like a bus hit you’ your lame attempt at a joke fell flat even to your own ears, but all he did was smile and close his eyes. Taking the opportunity, you went to get off the bed before you really started getting emotional, but a small voice stopped you dead in your tracks.
‘Stay’
You turned your head back to face him, hand clenching where you had it resting around your wrist.
‘Ok… ok… I’m not going anywhere’ you reassured him
You waited there until his breathing evened out again, making sure he wouldn’t wake up once more, before moving his body to lie on his side just in case he threw up while you made the short journey to your kitchen. You hadn’t been there to take of him, and now you’d rectify that, ransacking your cupboards for ingredients and containers.
You spent the next two hours putting together basic and easy to reheat meals- paellas, curries, salads- before putting them into containers with sticky notes attached to the lid with instructions for reheating. All throughout, you’d made regular checkups on Steven, making sure he hadn’t swallowed his tongue or fallen off the bed. Besides a near miss where he’s all but rolled completely off the mattress, he’d been almost comatose. Evidently the rest was sorely needed, given the way he clung to the weighted blanket you’d gently wrapped over him.
At last, you had more containers than you were even sure could fit in his fridge, along with some cans of soup you’d found pushed to the very back of your cupboards. Jogging back over one last time to make sure he’d be ok while you ran to his room, you snagged his keys off the bedside table and picked up the way-too-heavy bags.
By the time you returned, Steven hadn’t moved a muscle (much to your relief, although you did check his pulse. Just in case.), and your back pain had DEFINITELY gotten so much worse than it was. All you wanted was to lie down and never wake up, but instead of collapsing onto the small gap left unoccupied by Steven, you started gathering any spare pillows and blankets you could find, piling them all up on the tiny sofa. Steven could be an awkward person when it came to things like this at the best of times, and the last thing you wanted to do was make him uncomfortable. Besides, the sofa was fine, it was tiny and only made your back worse, but you’d have slept on the floor if it meant Steven being comfortable. You hoped he knew. That was the last thought you had as you drifted off, the events of that evening dragging you into the darkness quicker than usual.