"I got it, I got it," Steve said quickly, taking the steaming bowl, spoon, and mug of tea from Joyce. He carefully balanced it all without burning himself. The mug was your favorite mug, the mug he made you last Christmas at one of those pottery workshop things. It was ugly as hell, but maybe you'd remember.

Joyce gave him a long look. A sad look. "Are you sure?"

"I'm her boyfriend. It's my job."

Joyce didn't say anything, but the look in her eyes said enough. This went beyond the typical duties of a boyfriend. But after you and your brother Will had been rescued from the Mindflayer, things had grown complicated. Will was recovering, you weren't. You'd taken more of the Mindflayer sludge than Will had, and now you could barely remember your own name. It hurt, knowing her daughter saw her as a stranger now.

But Steve was handling it worse. He already felt guilty for canceling your date that night, the night you were taken. If he hadn't canceled you would've been with him and you would have been safe. But then he got into a fist fight with your twin brother Jonathan while you and Will were missing... it was just a shitshow. Now Steve was throwing himself into the caregiver role. Even if you didn't know who he was and freaked out whenever he tried taking you to the bath or getting you out of bed in the morning for check-ups.

Your bedroom door creaked as Steve nudged it open. You looked up from your notebook in surprise. Your writing was mostly scribbles, the doctors wanting you to practice "drawing your feelings" to see if that jogged your memory.

"Hey, sweetie," Steve said gently, trying to keep the melancholy out of his voice. "I brought you something."