Everything is too much.

The lights are too bright, the music—albeit pleasant—is too loud, and the tie around Steve's neck is too tight that he might actually choke and die the longer he wears it. Everything is too much.

Steve doesn't know why he agreed to this in the first place. Some swanky dinner party, filled to the brim with businessmen and women, the air smelling of money, influence, and more money. It's the kind of place he'd tell himself he never belonged; the kind of place his parents belonged, but never him. Guess that's why he's here tonight, 'cause his parents had dragged him to it.

There's one thing here that's making it less unbearable though, he thinks.

Out of the corner of his eye, a flurry of elegant dress and animated hands comes barreling towards him. The adoration on his face is unmistakable. It's you.