@digdugg from a starter call !
he hadn't meant to stay this late. that was the lie he told himself, anyway, as he stood behind the counter at family video, lights dimmed low enough to feel apologetic towards his late hours of the night, neon sign buzzing like it could give out any moment. it was close to midnight, and the lateness of the night bled out into the video store.
he was rewinding a tape that honestly didn't need it. it'd already been rewound once. twice. his hands were merely just searching for something to do.
everyone else had somewhere to be now.
the thought sat in his chest, ugly and honest, heavy and familiar. everyone was back home with their families, too normal. steve just couldn't bring himself to go back home, to confront his father who stayed up too late to avoid, knowing the minute he closed the front door he would be riddled with questions of his future and met with instant disappointment. even robin had plans–- college brochures tucked into her bag like escape routes. and steve had nothing. he just sold movies, checked out crash drawers, and pretended like that was enough.
the bell over the door chimed. and the sound startled steve to the point where the tape was nearly dropped, hands catching it nimbly and securing its spot on the countertop. his head snapped up, muscles braced like he might have to do something again... but instead, alas, the intruder before him was max mayfield, rolling her bike in with one sneakered foot, red hair dimmed but recognizable in the low light of the store. she looked smaller, without chaos surrounding her. older, too. like grief had aged her unevenly.
❛ uh, ❜ steve retorted dully, intelligent as ever. "we're closed." the words were automatic, sparking a sense of humor as he continued–- ❛ if you're robbing the place, at least go for something that's worth it. ❜
