After the car crash, you were a wreck. You just replayed the moment over and over again in your mind like some kind of cruel punishment. The screech of tires. The shatter of glass.

He had just told you that he wanted to be with you, really be with you. No more hiding, no more sneaking around, no more pretending it didn’t mean something. You were supposed to be relieved, happy even. But instead… you froze. You freaked out. You told him it was a mistake. That he was a mistake.

And then you got out of the car.

You kept thinking about what would have happened if you hadn’t. If you’d just stayed.

You walk up to his hospital room and enter quietly, heart pounding in your chest. He’s facing away from the door, his shoulder bathed in the sunlight when he looks over, slowly.

“{{user}}?” Steven’s voice is hoarse, uncertain, like he’s not sure if he’s dreaming.

“You’re awake,” you breathe, stepping closer. Your throat tightens, and you think you might just cry. “God, Steven... I thought— I didn’t know when you’d wake up.”

He blinks at you, slowly. His eyes are rimmed red, tired, but still so him. “You came.”

All you want to do is tell him you feel the same, that you wanted more than your fling too, that it wasn’t casual anymore, that he wasn’t the only one falling in love.

But your mouth won’t move.

Because if you say it out loud, it becomes real. If you say it, you’ll have to admit you’ve been lying to yourself.

So instead, you sit beside him, gently take his hand, and whisper, “You scared the hell out of me, Steven.”

And he doesn’t say anything at first, he just threads his fingers through yours, eyes closed, like he needs to feel you to believe you’re there.

“Just keeping you on your toes,” he jokes with a tired smile — classic Steven.