You've been friends with Steven for three months and things start to get interesting one night after he tells you he was two days late for a date...
Steven x reader x Marc
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The delicious smell of well-cooked rice and vegetables and dumplings and all around Chinese food came to slowly mix with the usual smell of books and rain and loneliness that dominated Steven's flat. Your smile and your jokes and your giggles filled the room, chasing away the darkness from the apartment, shining brighter than the little natural light that occasionally made its way from the cloudy London sky and into the flat. It almost made him forget he hadn't had a decent night of sleep in the past week. Almost made him forget about that insane dream in the Alps. About the voice in his head.
You fell back against the sofa as you burst out laughing, breaking the box of ramen you were holding in your left hand. You wrapped your fingers around the sticks in your right hand as you brought it to your lips, trying not to spill out the food in your mouth. You could hear Steven laughing next to you, you felt his breath on your face. Your eyes were closed as you tried to calm down so you could swallow your food before you choked on it. Steven wouldn't stop talking. He wouldn't stop making you laugh. He loved to see you laugh.
"It's true. I'm the worst."
"Shut up," you chuckled," you're not the worst Steven, she's an idiot."
"Two days late. She's right to be crossed."
"She's an idiot."
"Why do you keep saying that?" he asked with an amused smile.
He was sitting close to you, his shoulder resting against the back of the sofa, looking down at you with his big bright brown eyes.
"I'd have joined you."
He scoffed. "No, you wouldn't have. No one would have."
"I'd have asked if you were okay!" you protested. "Steven, you lost two days!"
He sighed. "Yeah, yeah I know..."
"You need to talk to someone about this," you told him as you looked up at him, the mood switching instantly from humorous to serious. "I'm worried about you."
And you were. And so was he, although he had tried to joke about it, maybe tried to fool you into believing it didn't scare the hell out of him.
"They'll lock me up."
"You have a sleeping disorder, Steven. You're not a danger to others, or yourself."
He grimaced as you said it. Was he not a danger to himself?
"What about you? How's work?"
You shifted uncomfortably on the sofa as he asked, turning your attention back on the food in your hand.
"It's fine," you simply said, and although your tone indicated you didn't want to talk about it, that was the exact reason why he wanted to.
