The Dream Project / Steddie

Cry Baby

The air is crisp. Petrichor filled his senses, wrapping around his brain as he shook the nerves from his fingers. People were staring. They always stared. But Steve was more focused on running through the lines of his song than worrying about what they thought of his fashion sense. It crossed his mind that they might pass on him because of the pink polish on his nails and the mascara on his eyes, but it was a risk he was willing to take.

"I hope you're remembering to breathe." He turned with a nervous grin. His shoes slapped against the wet concrete as he jumped down from the bench.

"Barely." He took a big breath in just to make the furrow in Robin's brow relaxed. "I'm feeling okay. How are you? How's everyone?"

"We're fine. Just worried about you, buddy," she threw her arm over his shoulder as they walked back towards the entrance of the venue. It was pretty big. A good three stories with a large theater that has been sealed off for the day. All of the contestants are roaming about, sitting on the floor, in the chairs, climbing up the stairs to get food at the restaurant upstairs. Steve has been too nervous to eat. Robin had shoved an applesauce packet down his throat that morning but everything else just makes his stomach swirl.

"I'll be okay. I think. I mean, we've rehearsed this a million times. We're ready. We're ready, right? Right, Robin? Tell me we're ready!" His eyes were round when he turned on her, her arm slipping from his shoulders. She flinched back at his sudden stop, catching her balance with her hands on his shoulders.

"Steve," she shook him once, "we're ready," she said with a firm nod. Steve took a gasping breath, holding it in his lungs for a second, then letting it go.

"We're ready," he repeated like a mantra as Robin guided him over to where they were sitting.

"Hey, buddy, you doing okay?" Jonathan asked, smiling gently up at him from his place on the floor.

"I'm okay," Steve nodded as he sunk to the ground. Robin sat beside him, picking up her drumsticks and tapping them rhythmically against Steve's thigh. "I'm just going to be anxious until it's our turn. Which is when, by the way?"

"Our slot is 2 o'clock, and it is currently 11:23," Nancy smiled sympathetically as Steve groaned, collapsing dramatically slow into Robin's lap. Jonathan tugged his skirt down when it rode up, patting Steve's knee. Robing chuckled, bringing a hand down to thread into Steve's hair, combing her fingers through the soft brown strands.

"Is anyone we know here?" Robin asked curiously, glancing around the venue.

"I saw Tony Mackenzie a little while ago," Jonathan said.

"Toby Mackenzie?" Steve grimaced up at him from Robin's lap. "Poor kid is beyond tone deaf."

"I saw Eddie," Nancy said.

"Munson?" Steve popped back up. Nancy nodded and Steve's shoulders dropped.

"Five people from each state, Eddie Munson is definitely going to be one of them," he said.

"You a fan?" Robin chuckled teasingly.

"Death metal isn't really my vibe," Steve smiled sarcastically, "but I've heard their stuff and Ethan dragged me to some dingy basement that smelled like weed and feet where his band was performing. Eddie's band was also performing. I've seen them, they're really fucking good."

"Is Ethan here?" Jonathan asked, his face pulling down with the same stormy anger as when he found out what Ethan did.

"I don't know," Steve shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest as it started to clench. There was a sick, weightless feeling sweeping through him, the same feeling that makes him want to huddle into a corner every time he hears or says Ethan's name. It was supposed to lessen over time, but so far it hasn't happened.