Go the Distance
Request: #9 & #17 on the post on my prof @thesurroundingbeauty
Pairing: Steven Grant x Reader
Warnings: None tbh (but if there should be lmk)
Word Count: 1714
Summary: Regardless of how much you like Steven Grant, it seems like he just can’t stay put, and the one thing you hate almost as much as infidelity is inconsistency.
A/N: I’ve actually quite missed writing, sorry if it’s kinda boring I did find myself drawing this out a tad bit, also unedited asf
Steven Grant, public nuisance to some, clumsy and unreliable to others, but above all, your boyfriend…for now. Don’t get it wrong, Steven is a sweetheart, the sweetest even, but he’s inconsistent. Not just that he doesn’t text all the time, or doesn’t keep up the same energy and attitude with you inconsistent (that’s dealable, that’s every guy you’ve been with so far), no he literally disappears for days, weeks even, at a time. Not a word to you, his job doesn’t seem to notice, or when they do they don’t care all that much, it’s like Steven Grant just…poofs into thin air at least twice a month.
You’ve tried to get him to explain, for any reassurance so your head isn’t rife with thoughts of a secret family, a wife he’s hiding, something to justify it, but Steven acts like he was never gone to begin with. As though you imagined him seemingly going missing every time you guys find your footing again.
Which led you to today, you demanded he take you back to his flat, something he’s always insisted against after dates, and opting to stay with you instead.
“It’s quite a mess, you know.” He’d muttered as he slowly pushed open the door to his flat, and had he been anyone else but Steven maybe that would’ve been surprising, but you pretty much expected that from him at this point.
You both stepped inside, him a bit more fidgety than usual, but then again the usual was pretty damn fidgety anyways. You’d grown to love those little things about Steven, which is perhaps why instead of dumping him, like you planned, you delayed it even more.
Carefully, you stepped into the room, taking in the decor, if it could be called that. It’s more like his obsession with the history spilled into even this aspect of his life, walls of books, everywhere, above his bed, to the far right end, hell even the middle of the room was separated by a bookshelf, which perfectly framed the vibrant blue aquamarine in the middle of it, it was the most color in the space actually, so naturally you gravitated toward it, Steven mirroring your movements and landing on the opposite side of the tank.
“What’s its name?” You finally say, breaking the silence that felt like it was holding the both of you hostage, and Steven himself seemed relieved at that because he immediately piped up.
“Gus, he’s rather anomalous actually. He’s grown back that-” he gestured to your side, “-fin back a few days ago. Though that shouldn’t be possible, considering he was born that way.”
You almost respond, wanting to ask what exactly he means by that, but he presses his hand to the glass, the fish swimming up quite happily and blowing bubbles at him. Steven. You find yourself thinking that with him a lot, just his name, and his beautiful face popping in your head to follow.
“What about all of those, the statues and stuff.” You ask, moreso to keep from the drawn out silences again, but much to your delight Steven’s face lights up, right away he moves on from the fish tank and rounds to your side, grabbing your hand and pulling you both into the nook you presume he does most of his work in, because the book stacks are even messier than others. Papers skewed about, some with handwriting that could only be Steven’s with how borderline illegible it is, but somehow still clearly meant to be cursive. Steven.
“This…is where I do most of my work, all of my research, general inquiry and delving, it’s my little hobbit hole so-to-speak,” he starts, moving a stack out of the way as he pulls out the desk chair, “and of course, most of it revolves around egyptian mythology, as confusing and slightly convoluted as that can be.
You see her,” he asks as he picks up a small figurine, thought it’s more of a statement, “this is the goddess, Tefnut, who’s pretty much the goddess of water, in simple terms and-”
You don’t understand much after that actually, and while that may have to do with the fact that you know next to nothing about Egyptian mythology, it’s more likely because you’re distracted. He moves back and forth through the small space, his eyes alight as he went through the gods in the Ennead and their stories, though if he asked you to recite any of it back to him…well you’d be talking about different topics entirely.
You were far more interested in the way his messy dark hair flopped with every excited movement, or how his eyes flit between you and his work, making sure you were still listening, or how everytime he paused to catch his breath, his pupils dilated all over again at the sight of you.
It softened you, as much as someone who doesn’t really want to let go can be softened that is, but he is still inconsistent. You turned to the rest of the room, your eyes glossing over the bed, and then doubling back at the restraints on the support beams, oh.
Steven’s still rambling, though he kinda lost you the second he tried to explain the afterlife process, so you place a hand on his shoulder, gently, but pretty firmly guiding both of you over to his bed, pushing him down so he’s sat with you standing over him.
“Steven, I need you to be honest, very honest with me…is there someone else?” Actually, that’s not what you were going to say, but that question bubbled to the surface, and it just seemed much more important than…well if he was a part of an organized crime group.
He stared at you, but not so much at you, more through you, like he was paying attention to you, but listening to something else…except the room is quiet.
“Steven?” you repeat, hoping to snap him out or something.
“Y/N…” he starts, sighing as he takes his hands in his, handling you with the care you’ve grown to appreciate so much, like you’re one of his fragile artifacts, “I’m not seeing anyone but you…and I’m not interested in it either.”
Your brows furrow, as reassuring as that is, that explains nothing.
“Then explain-“ you pull your hands away, picking up the leg restraint nearby instead “-explain that. And the constant disappearing, I mean for goodness sake Steven whenever it feels like we’re doing good for longer than a week you just-you disappear!” Your voice raises at that last part, the built up frustration surfacing as you finally have the chance to question him.
Again, he stared up at you, through you, his mind elsewhere.
The two of you stay like that for several beats, in the silence, your mind racing while was his miles ahead, or behind, you truly can’t tell with this man.
Finally, he takes your hands back into his, gripping them like you’ll disappear the second he lets go, he sighs, closes his eyes, nods, shakes it, and nods again, before opening them.
“I sleep walk, that’s why I have those restraints. And I know, believe me I know how insane this is going to sound, but it’s dangerous, not just for me but for everyone else,” not once does he break eye contact with you, which is so unlike Steven who sputters when you hold his gaze a few seconds too long, “I go to sleep, and wake up miles from home, with no idea how I’ve found myself there, no clue what I did when I was ‘asleep’, just the knowing something is so so wrong.”
He shakes his head, closing his eyes for a couple of beats before continuing, “I don’t- can’t trust myself Y/N. My life constantly feels like it’s falling apart around me, I spend days at a time trying to piece together what happened, how I could’ve gotten away from myself, the only constant in my life right now is..well you. And I’ve gone and mucked this up too.”
You’ve never seen Steven like this, so sure of what he’s saying, and this being the context that allows you to see this side is, well, frightening. He isn’t partaking in infidelity and half-truths, he’s dealing with whatever this insanity is. And it’s taking a toll on him, as sure as he is about what he’s saying, his brows are scrunched, trying to gauge your reaction, his hands, steady as they are, are sweating profusely at the moment, he’s even chewing the inside of his bottom lip.
You close your eyes, soaking everything in, and then sit beside him, never pulling your hands away.
“If the only thing I have to worry about is your body taking you against your will,” You start, your own nervousness seeping into your voice at your words, as if that’s not a wildly concerning statement to begin with, “then all I ask…is that you don’t go anywhere I can’t follow you.”
At that, Steven’s eyes widen, maybe in surprise that you’re not telling him to see a ward, or simply because that’s the last thing he expected to hear, it’s certainly the last thing you expected to say today.
“Y/N…I…that’s-“ his grip on your hand tightens even more, like a warning, but he certainly wasn’t warning you. “-so you still want to be with me?”
“Yes, Steven.”
“Sleepwalking, eccentricities and all?”
“Yes Steven.”
“Truly are you sure? I understand if you’re just being nic-“
“I’m absolutely certain Steven.”
“Even though I really am quite a mes-“
You shake your head pulling your hands away, and for a second his face falls, like that action alone was you saying no despite everything you’ve said , so you grab his face, pulling him in so your lips meet before he can spiel any more doubt. He tenses first, and then melts, letting his hands meet your wrists, holding you firm, yet again, like you’re bound to disappear if he lets go.
Neither of you pull away, so you sit in silence, a much more comfortable silence, as your foreheads are pressed together, Steven’s dark doe eyes staring at you like you are the most precious artifact in this room, if not all of London.
