Summary: Steb is consumed by an overwhelming love! Request from @99hiatus
Word count: 673
Warnings: he doesn't know how to deal with his feelings.
Love wasn’t something Steb had given much thought to before you—it felt too big, too complicated for someone like him, who found comfort in quiet simplicity. But when you showed up, his world began to shift. At first, he wrote it off as nothing—just a passing distraction. But then he started noticing the way you moved, the way you spoke, the way your smile softened at the edges when you looked his way. And before he knew it, you were always on his mind.
It drove him crazy.
Sometimes, late at night, he’d find himself staring at the ceiling, wondering why he couldn’t stop thinking about you. His heart would pound in his chest like it was trying to remind him just how little control he had. His gills flaring up with every long sigh that he let out. It wasn’t like him to dwell on things he didn’t understand, especially something so intangible, something that could slip through his fingers like sand.
But then he’d think about how you walked past him in the hallway—steps light, purposeful—and how his pulse would quicken, no matter how much he tried to ignore it. In those moments, all his excuses fell apart. He knew what it was. He was in love, so much that it hurt.
He didn’t know how to close the distance between the two of you. He wasn’t the kind of person who could just say what he felt—words weren’t something he was good at. he stayed quiet.
You became a quiet obsession, though not one he'd call unhealthy –at least he hoped not. He memorized the sound of your laugh—how it could light up the darkest corners of his day. And when you smiled at him— him!—it felt like stepping into the sun after being lost in the cold for too long.
He felt lovesick in every sense of the word. It overwhelmed him, like a fever that left him both weak and exhilarated. His pulse would race the moment you got too close, his steady hands betraying him with the faintest tremor. He wasn’t used to feeling this... unmoored. But as much as it terrified him, he couldn’t bring himself to hate it. He loved the way his heart seemed to skip when your shoulder brushed his, the way his thoughts spiraled out of control when your fingers lingered near his own.
He noticed all the little things about you, the ones no one else seemed to pick up on. Like how you tapped your foot when you were deep in thought, even when you were trying not to. The rhythmic little beat always made him smile, just a bit. Or how you’d collect stray paper clips, lining them up into neat little patterns on your desk like it gave you some kind of peace.
Steb wasn’t one for grand gestures, but he knew which days you’d go for coffee over tea, how you liked your papers stacked and organized, and which street vendors you trusted for a quick meal. Quietly, without ever drawing attention to himself, he’d make sure those little things were taken care of. He’d straighten your desk if you’d rushed off, or show up with a pastry from your favorite bakery, pretending it wasn’t for you when it obviously was.
Sometimes, it felt like his feelings might crush him. His love for you wasn’t something he could compartmentalize or explain, even to himself. It was everywhere, spilling into his every thought, coloring his every action, until it felt like you were at the center of his universe.
When you caught him staring—which, to his frustration, happened more often than he’d like—he’d freeze, wide-eyed and unguarded. He’d pretend to be busy with something else, but the truth was, he never wanted to look away. You were his favorite thing to see, his favorite thought to have. And every time he was near you, it felt like he was unraveling in the best possible way.
Even after everything—after you became his—it never stopped.
Sometimes, when you leaned against him, he’d press his cheek against your hair, soaking up the warmth of you like it might slip away. He’d quietly tuck a loose strand behind your ear when you weren’t paying attention or curl an arm around you just to feel the comfort of your weight against his chest. At night, when it was just the two of you, he’d nuzzle into your shoulder, inhaling your sweet scent, the overwhelming ache in his heart softening into something quieter but no less consuming.
