Howellatme's Writing Blog

“Ah, I think so? It’s past the 30-day mark,” he muses and ducks back behind the curtain, rinsing off his hair.

“Perfect. So I just pick a dentist? Or do I just go to yours?” You look at the bands on your fingers and admire them for a moment as you hum.

“You can probably see mine.”

“Do you think your dental insurance covers Invisalign?”

The water turns off, and Richard pulls the shower curtain back aggressively, “No.”

You shoot him a quizzical look in the mirror, but you can’t help but smile at him, “They don’t cover it?”

“You’re thinking of getting rid of my favorite thing? I adore it. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he spoke passionately as he approached, wrapping his arms around your waist. His damp chest was warm against your back. You shiver as the water from his hair drips on you, as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“It’s how people remembered me—the woman with the tooth gap. I was made fun of all the time. I rarely smiled with my teeth until I met you.” You sigh, reaching for your lip liner and contouring the edges.

“Honey, your gap is beautiful. It’s the first thing I noticed about you,” Richard lamented, kissing and nibbling your shoulder, his mustache tickling your shoulder. You giggle and jolt, almost ruining your lipliner. “Sometimes the things we see as imperfections are the very things that make us unique. I love it so much. Perfection in the imperfection,” he whispered huskily. You can feel Richard press his body into you, his hand kneading and caressing your hip, and you give him a look in the mirror when you realize how he’s already hard, “Do I have to show you how much I love that gap?”

You gasp as you feel him slide a hand down your sleep shorts, “Richard–! You’re ridiculous.”

“Mm, but you love it. Finish doing your lips,” he murmurs kissing your neck and groans when you shift your legs apart a little further when his fingers slowly start to circle your clit, and he can feel the way you respond to him, “Your gap is perfect. You have a smile that lights up my world, and that gap just makes everything about you so special.”

His hand just cupped you, letting you do your lipstick before starting his ministrations again, when you put the lipstick back on the counter, “Richard, you have work soon.”

“Look in the mirror,” he whispered nibbling on your earlobe, “Just relax, let me show you.” slowly pulling your sleep shorts and panties down, his hands caressing your thighs, your ass, ghosting up your shirt to feel your stomach, “Part your lips for me.” You swallow hard, your breath catching as he calls you a good girl. He reaches up to your chin and holds it, his thumb ghosting at the corner of your mouth, but careful not to ruin the fresh lipstick, “You drive me crazy, baby. This smile…this mouth… Look at the little gap. It’s everything.”

“Nuh, Uh. " Your breath hitches as he slips a finger inside, and you whine—his finger retreats to add a second digit. You reach back to grip his curls as he presses his fingers deeper, rubbing slowly, searching for the spot that makes you shake.

“Look at you. I want you to see what I see. Do you know how many times-,” he groans and whispers low in your ear as your other hand grips the edge of the porcelain sink, pressing back into him, “you would send those photos to me at work to tease me right before I come home? I’d always think about your mouth, those lips. That little gap I’d see? I think about it all the time. It’s so you. Your laughter, smile, and sensuality—it starts, lives and breathes in that gap.”

You whine, head falling back on his shoulder as he nibbles and kisses the exposed skin, his fingers pumping in and out, and your breath catches, “You have a thing for it, don’t you? Or do you just really want me to watch?” 

His pointer moves from chin to your open mouth, his finger is careful not to ruin the lipstick as he presses the finger against the gap and groans, “I love the way it feels, that little dip.” Richard starts to rub you faster, and you gasp, grinding against him, “How I can feel your breath through that gap. I swear I could spend hours worshiping that little gap.” he moans like he can’t wait for another second to taste your lips. He parts his lip, letting his tongue press against the gap before deepening the kiss. Richard makes you whimper with shaky knees as he presses closer to the counter for stability. It’s lewd, it’s sensual, his tongue is pressed up against your gap, groaning at how it feels. You had no idea he loved the little imperfect detail about your mouth and how personal it was to him as he cradled your jaw in his hand, a gentle touch compared to how his fingers coaxed out your moans.

Your name is a ragged groan against your ear as Richard breaks the kiss and has your body pinned, trembling and shivering with need as you feel him press against you. You mewl and your hand leaves his hair to grab his hip, thigh, ass, whatever you can reach to get him closer, “You are insatiable, Richard. Show me how crazy it makes you. I need you.”

“I know… I know you do. You’re so tight,” he groans, and Richard can see the gap as you chuckle breathlessly, his mustache tickling your skin while his lips trace your neck with lust-blown eyes meeting in the mirror. “Look at mi corazon, how beautiful you look like this, my wife.”

The hand moves from the sink to the edge of the counter to grasp at it as his fingers leave you, only to have his cock press against your entrance. Your brows furrow at the stretch as you look at him in the mirror, eyes locked as he slowly presses in, as you push back to meet him. His hands roam slowly and teasingly over your waist and stomach, just enough to make you squirm. Richard’s warm hand finally settles on your hip, the other rubbing up your back, trying to figure out this new position.”Oh my god, Richard.”

“Yeah,” his eyes darken as he presses his hips forward to thrust into you. “Feel how much I love you? Feel how much I love that gap?”

“Fuck, baby…I feel it. What if—” Your breath starts to quicken, and biting your lip, your chin drops to your chest as he sets the pace, “I do it anyway?”

The hand caressing up your spine entangles in your hair as he grips it from behind, needing to tenderly pull you back and feel all of you against him, “I’ll have to worship that smile of yours every night until you admit you never needed to change a thing.” He lets go of your locks to cradle you against him by your throat, a loving grasp, slowly moving up so his thumb could caress your bottom lip, and he murmurs ghosting over the shell of your ear, making sure you’re looking at his reflection, “But sweetheart, I’d miss my favorite part. Every single time you smile, or when you bite your lip when you’re trying to keep yourself from moaning.” 

“Mmmhm, Richard.” You hum and feel his hand, fingers intertwining with yours over the counter, shifting against him for more. He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he kisses your neck, biting, sucking, soothing his with his tongue as the side of his thumb slips between your lips once again, grazing against the gap. 

He shivers as you press a kiss to it, your tongue flicking against his thumb. He’s moving faster, voice dripping with desire, “Love how you say my name. Look at you, look how perfect you are mi corazon.” Richard can’t resist, he’s kissing you again, his hand leaving yours on the sink to rub your clit. “Oooh, that's it. That's it, there we go honey,” he grunts against your lips as you tighten around him.

“Maybe I’ll keep it—” you whine breathlessly, feeling yourself start to tremble. Your grip on the counter tightens as you press back into him, “just for you.”

“Oh, mi corazon.” That wrecks him. His grip on you tightens, and his movement becomes more erratic. His voice drops to something raw as his only focus is on your body, sending shivers down your spine. “Just like this. Keep it just like this. Always. Look in the mirror. I want you to watch how good you look when you come for me.”

Richard builds you up, continuing to whisper filthy and worshipful things in your ear as you both watch yourselves in the mirror. When you both finally fall apart for each other, his arms wrapped around you as Richard kisses your neck.

He looks up at you panting, and you feel him smile and chuckle as you both come out of your lustful daze and focus on the smeared color and the mess your mouths made of each other. “I guess I ruined your lipstick. I didn’t mean to–”

You smirk and look back at him. “You got a little carried away.” You turn to the mirror again and feel the heat rise to your cheaks, the lipstick smeared across your mouth, leaving little traces of color on your teeth from where Richard worshiped your gap.

It would be better than staying at the crusty motel with vending machine food for dinner. He’d be better company than the potential bedbugs. Richard and you could cook together and watch the telenovela he’s told you about. After a moment,  you finally concede. “Well, what’s for dinner?” Richard smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners as the snow billows around the car.

After work and a short drive, you’re standing behind Richard on his porch, shivering while he fumbles for his keys to unlock the door. He notices you rubbing your cold hands together as you follow him inside. He removes his gloves and holds your hands to warm them, “I told you that you needed gloves.” His little dog Luna runs into the kitchen barking excitedly to greet the both of you, and he drops his hands, bending down to scoop up his dog and officially introduce you. “This is Luna. Luna, this is our friend. The coworker I’ve been telling you about.”

“Nice to meet you Luna.” You extend your hand out to her and after sniffing curiously she gives you a couple of small licks. You smile in return, petting her head.

“I have to get her bundled up and take her out real quick, but the bathroom is down there if you want to change.” Richard nods down the hall as he grabs her little pink coat off the hook by the door. After Luna goes outside and the both of you change into something more comfortable you help him in the kitchen as he heats some stew from the previous night. “Hilachas. Perfect for the cold weather. I made a big batch expecting us to be snowed in...”

“Us? So you planned on playing hooky tomorrow and having me over regardless?” you tease, searching for some bowls until he gestures to the specific cupboard while he stirs the stew on the stove.

“Operation Blizzard. I just wanted extra in case you needed a place to crash,” Richard responds with a chuckle, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “I’ll call in if you do.”

“I might. I don’t want to be in the kitchen after that fight, way too much tension,” you say, setting the bowls down.

“Fight?” Richard asks with a furrowed brow. “Was there a fight before dinner?”

“Just a small dispute. Nothing too major,” you say, trying to brush it off. But it was a major fight. You’re worried how Richard would react if he found out you both were the subject matter. You try to change the subject and realize this is the first time you’ve seen him outside work. “You know…this is the first time I’ve seen you out of uniform.” His clothes are slightly baggy, but he looks cozy.

Blush tinges his cheeks as he shakes his head looking down at the stew. “Oh there’s not much to see,” he waves it off and you notice he loosened his flannel shirt around his waist as if trying to hide his stomach. He tests the stew with a spoon and turns the stove off, grabbing the bowls you had set out.

“Richard in his natural habitat? There’s everything to see.” You smile as you exchange bowls, lightly caressing his other arm in reassurance. “Besides, you look great.”

You sit on the small couch, enjoying hilacha and watching an episode of the telenovela he’s rewatching. He moves closer, draping his arm around the back of the couch after he grabs a cozy blanket. You lean into him a few minutes later to ask him to repeat himself as he mutters about the episode’s terrible plot, your hand resting on his thigh. He smiles and welcomes your warmth against him, his hand finally resting on your shoulder. But suddenly, everything plunges into darkness.

“No!!!! It was just getting to the good part!” you shout. The blizzard continues to rage outside as the wind is suddenly amplified in the quiet darkness, the only thing that can be seen is the phone Richard is quickly pulling out of his pocket as he curses. 

“Someone must have hit the telephone pole on the corner again. It happens at least once a year,” he sighs, disappointed, running a hand over his face. “It’s getting late. I’ll find my flashlight and we’ll get you a few extra blankets for the couch. Power probably won’t be restored till morning.”

You see him get up by the light of his phone and offer his hand out to you, you follow him wrapping the blanket over your shoulders. He mutters to himself as he walks to his bedside table and hands you a flashlight. You turn it on and point it at the ceiling, your eyes adjusting to the stream of light. He shuffles through his closet as you sit at the foot of his bed. He pulls out a plastic tote and opens it to grab a quilt. Richard sniffs it, and crinkles his nose. “Cigarettes and perfume. It was my mom’s…guess I never washed this,” he says apologetically.

“I mean…you have plenty of blankets here,” you point out, patting the bed and smoothing out the comforter. With the way you were cuddling with each other on the couch, you don’t think he’d outright refuse. “I think we would be pretty warm.”

Richard looks at you mouth agape. He stutters nervously, “a-are you sure?” he asks, standing up and discarding the quilt, not moving from where he stands. He gulps, looking like he’s about to try and protest.

“I feel safe with you Richard. I trust you,” you assure him, heart racing at the possibilities.

“Right,” he mumbles, closing the closet. Richard’s hands fidget with his watch as he returns to his side of the bed. “If you feel uncomfortable, tell me and I’ll move. I can even put some pillows between us…”

“Richard.”

“Am I making it uncomfortable?”

“Just lay down,” you chuckle.

You both get under the covers and face each other. Despite Richard’s hesitation about this arrangement, he’s inches from you in bed. “So…you never said. What was that fight in the kitchen about?” he pondered, trying to keep the conversation light, unaware he was doing the opposite.

“Oh…” you pause trying to find the right way to explain this, “someone made a vulgar comment about the lunch breaks we take.” His brow furrows, and you quickly add, “I might’ve mentioned we get lunch together, and the inmates are making a big deal out of it.”

“How?”

“Well, it’s not wholesome, that’s for sure,” you mutter, looking down at his lips and trying to avoid his gaze, “but I guess they need to think of something to keep themselves occupied and pass the time.”

“What did they say to you?” Richard’s hand shifts to comfort you, but stops short of touching you.

“There’s no way to put this delicately. It’s sexual.” You bite your lip and your face feels warm as you look down at his hand by yours. “Chad insinuated that I suck you off during lunch so often that I’d have no problem giving him head. Brian punched him. Other kitchen staff intervened, but it escalated and became a mess.”

Richard’s face turns red in the light of the flashlight. He uneasily exhales and reaches out to caress your fingers. “It’s inappropriate for anyone to say stuff like that, especially to you.”

“It’s alright. Chad is out of the kitchen,” you say quietly, suddenly feeling awkward.

“Well…good. Good.” The house creaks and settles as the blizzard continues outside. Luna yawns loudly before settling her head back down near Richard’s feet. 

The silence continues as you both look at your hands, his hand over yours, your fingers making space for his. Another minute passes in silence as you both contemplate the lewd comment. Trying to break the uncomfortable silence you probe, “You’re quiet for a Director of Communications. Penny for your thoughts?”

“I was hoping we could talk, but now it doesn’t feel like the right time anymore,” he confesses his fingers curling around yours.

“Nothing you could say would make me go back into that blizzard and risk my life, Richard.”

“I’ve been a bit of a coward,” he gulps and pauses letting out a shaky breath, “and I wish I came out with it earlier. Our lunches aren’t that colorful, but it’s my favorite part of the day. I want you to know how much you mean to me. We’re friends but…you mean far more to me than anyone else…” his voice trembles his nerves on full display. “You have my heart. It’s yours.”

As he speaks your whole body warms up and you smile, pressing your forehead against his “Richard, you softy…”

“Ssssh. Just let me be happy for a moment.” He whispers your name. Richard’s kind eyes look at you cautiously, a nervous smile on his lips, “So what do you think about that?”

“I think…you’ve had my heart for a long time, Richard.” You finally look up at him after a moment, the distance between both bodies quickly disappearing. 

“Mi corazón…” he gazes at you in awe as you try sounding out the Spanish back to him like a question “ My heart. How can you be so sweet? I just don’t understand it.”

You blush at the nickname and move your hand to caress his face, fingertips brushing his cheek as you move to hold his jaw. Your thumb reaches out to stroke his mustache as he turns to press a light kiss to the pad of your thumb. He reaches out to stroke your arm, and you ask, “So I have your heart. I am your heart… Can I kiss you?”

His lips brush against yours, and you feel like you’re melting as he moves to hold you, rubbing gingerly down your back. It’s a soft kiss that slowly grows needier, your bodies pressing together for pleasure and warmth. The both of you turn slightly and you’re partially on top of him. One of his legs slots between yours as you run your fingers through his curls, the feeling making heat pool between your legs as he holds you to him, his hands gripping the plush of your thighs. You have to stop yourself from rocking on his upper thigh and scaring him. “Richard?” you question breathlessly, your fingers roaming over the small patch of exposed skin between the hem of his shirt and waistband.

Richard hums as he nuzzles into your neck, his mustache lightly tickling your skin. “You feel like a warm blanket,” he murmurs.

“Good, because it’s only going to get colder.” Your fingers caress his tummy under his shirt as you look at him, heat rising to your cheeks when you see how he looks up at you blissfully.

He lets out a contented sigh, “Am I dreaming? Do you really want me?”

“You’re not dreaming,” you whisper, taking his hand in yours, and slowly guiding him under the waistband of your leggings. The movement is slow enough that he could withdraw his hand, but he doesn’t, and at your guidance his fingers slowly part your folds as he drops his knee.

He groans as he feels your arousal, his two fingers finding and rubbing small circles over your clit. “Is this okay?” His eyes never leave yours, finding the perfect rhythm that has you moaning.

“Just like that…yeah. More than okay,” you whisper breathlessly, your hand moving down, your fingers lightly tracing over the bulge in his sweatpants, kissing him again.

The sensation causes a wave of pleasure to wash over him, his body arching into the touch as he gasps trying to keep his composure, and asks again, “Do you want this?” His breathing becomes more erratic as you nod, both of your hands reaching for your waist, pulling your leggings and panties off hastily. His fingers return to your heat before you can try to take off his sweatpants, rubbing a little faster before moving to tease your entrance. “Mi corazón, you’re so wet for me….” 

“I want you…more than anything.” Your eyebrows furrow, and your lips part into a whimper as he slowly eases two fingers inside and peppers kisses down your jawline and neck. He groans as he feels you clenching around his fingers, his cock twitching under your hand as you continue to tease him through his sweatpants. Richard pushes against your hand as his thumb finds your clit, continuing the rhythm of small circles that have you keening. He keeps stroking and touching you, learning what you like, coaxing out your moans and whimpers until you’re shaking with your impending release, “Richard, I- I’m so close…”

He looks up at you, his eyes hooded with his pleasure, awestruck and moaning your name, softly panting between words as his thumb moves more rapidly over your clit.“Let go for me… please…I need to feel you.”

His desperate plea sends you over the edge, your walls clenching down on him as the pleasure starts to overcome you. He moves your hand from his clothed cock as he tries to keep himself from cuming too soon…his thumb continues to stroke your clit as you ride out your high. “You’re so beautiful… so beautiful,” he praises, looking up at you with a smile of adoration.

“Richard…” you whimper feeling your whole body warm at the praise, still feeling some of the aftershocks from the pleasure, briefly laying down on top of him while you regain your breath. “I need you…I need more…can I give you more?”

“Yes! Richard, can I ride you? Can I make you cum?” you ask, trying to take his sweatpants off unceremoniously. He’s warm to the touch and he shudders at the sensation of you teasing his head, spreading the precum before wrapping your hand around him. “Richard, you beautiful man, I’ve wanted you for so long.” Your other hand is in his tousled curls as he suddenly surges forward and kisses you. The winter air blows against the bedroom windows, but the heat between you is all you need.

“Yes,” he groans, looking up at you like you hung the stars, watching you over him, “you can have it, every part of me.” You start taking him slowly, inch by inch, feeling his thumbs reverently caressing your hips. Once you're seated, you lean forward and kiss him softly. He takes a few deep breaths, trying to steady himself as he caresses your back, making you feel butterflies. Richard looks at you apologetically before his head falls back with a moan that sounds like music to your ears. “You feel too good…I might not last…”

“It’s okay. I just want to feel you,” you whisper, raising yourself on your hands, slowly starting to move. You feel like you’re in a haze, entranced by every gasp and moan falling from his lips, relishing in the feeling of him.

“Oh, baby…you feel so warm, so perfect.” It doesn’t matter how long it lasts to you, as this is the start of something new with no end in sight. Everything feels right in this moment, the blankets cocoon the warmth between you both as you move over him. Richard’s breath starts to become ragged as he gazes at you with half-closed eyes. He can’t help but begin slowly thrusting into you, hitting the spot that makes you shake. “Mi corazón, you’re so tight.” His fingers dig into your hips. “I can’t hold on much longer if you keep squeezing me like that..”

“Oh fuck, Richard…” you whine as you rest your forehead against his, closing your eyes. Your fingers intertwine with his soft curls as you support yourself on your elbows “…it’s okay. Inside. I'm on the pill.” Richard moans again, your warmth and wetness feeling like heaven. Your permission to release inside you sends him over the edge. Richard starts thrusting into you faster bringing you closer to your orgasm, hoping to release with him.“Oh god! Richard! Just like that… Please!”

Richard thrusts once, twice more into you as you rock on him, then stills as you feel his cum. He gasps and groans as you still over him. He thinks it is all over. He didn’t feel you cum with him. You take a moment to close your eyes and catch your breath and he looks distraught, apologizing profusely. “I'm sorry- as soon as you said inside- it's just been so long-”

Your thumb caresses his cheek soothingly, “Sssh it's okay. Don't apologize. You made me cum once, and it felt so good.”

“You’re not upset?” Richard asks, searching your eyes hopefully as you lay next to him, still feeling incredibly guilty. “I didn’t mean to finish so soon...”

"Richard, there's a blizzard outside,” you remind him gently. "We have all night.”

“You're right.” Richard relaxes, turning into you with a small smile, his hand caressing your thigh.

“If we're snowed in…” You part your legs for him, as he slots his body over yours, his body still a soft and welcome warmth. A small moan slips past your lips as you're suddenly acutely aware of the combined fluids dripping out of you, “we’ll have plenty of time tomorrow.” 

You step out of the crowd into the kitchen, looking over the meat and cheese tray. The atmosphere in the living room was high-energy for a New Year's party run by a book club host and her gamer husband at their fancy lake-front home. It was supposed to be the perfect night, hanging out with Richard, and flirting a little, with the best view of the New Year fireworks. It would be the perfect opportunity to loop your arm around his pretending you were cold while you waited. Then maybe, just maybe, you would have the courage to kiss him at midnight.

You sigh, grabbing a little plate and looking at the time, your shoulders sagging when you saw it was still an hour till midnight. You could hear the laughter from the drinking game in the living room, and the screaming at the person who won the newest black card in that round in Cards Against Humanity. There truly was something for everyone at this party, but you felt… out of place without Richard by your side. You’re starting to grab some cheese and little salami pieces piling them on your little plate as the hostess approaches you, “Where’s Richard Why hasn’t he shown up yet?”

“He’s at work. Richard told me he always gets stuck working on the holidays. The other correctional officers have families and kids, so naturally they get priority.” you sigh. “He said he MIGHT be able to get out of work early.”

“Oh, that’s a bummer.” she sighs grabbing some cheese for herself, and teases, “Were you trying to kiss him at midnight?”

You can feel your cheeks getting warm, “Oh please, Taylor stop! Is it that noticeable?”

“Oh honey, our book club is taking bets. Kinda bummed that Devon might win, we can’t let them choose the book for next month again. He chooses the worst books on purpose.” Taylor sighed grabbing another cookie from the cookie plate.

You roll your eyes, biting the cheese cube off its toothpick. “Glad to know Devon has no faith in my love life. Are all of you in a group chat without us or something? Gossiping about how close we are?”

“Devon has faith in your love life, but not Richard’s. Devon thinks Richard will dodge your kiss, giving you an awkward hug instead. He’s a little shy, you know he is,” Taylor replies shrugging nonchalantly. She hears the partygoers playing the drinking game calling her name from the living room. “Just a minute!” She calls back and looks at the cookie tray. “Uhm, I’m just going to take all of this,” she says gesturing to the cookie platter, grabbing the whole thing and bringing it back into the living room.

You chuckle, shake your head, and pull out your phone, willing Richard to text you. You check your notifications and see nothing, tucking your phone back into your pocket. You finish piling snacks on your plate and head to the living room, returning to your spot on the couch. You listen and politely nod as the conversation continues around you, but you're not engaged. You’re trying your best not to wallow in self-pity as you watch the New Year’s Eve countdown on the TV. Part of you wishes the clock would move faster so you could get it over with, eat a pint of ice cream at home, and curl up with a blanket.

Ten minutes till midnight.

“Come on, grab your coats! We’re going outside to watch the fireworks across the lake!” Taylor announces. You stand up intending to grab your coat and sneak out to go home, but you feel your phone vibrate. Your face lights up and Taylor asks, “Is he going to make it?”

“Yeah! He’s on his way.” you exclaim holding your phone and shaking your free hand in anticipation as your heart suddenly races, “Oh my God, Oh my God, it’s happening! I can do this. I can do this. I can tell him how I feel, I can kiss him at midnight.” you repeat as Taylor nods hyping you up.

“Devon is NOT picking the book next month!” Taylor says nodding encouragingly as she puts on her coat, “You’re going to kiss him, I’ll win the bet. It’s going to be an amazing start to the new year!”

“Oh come on!” Devon tries to argue jokingly, “I think going through Goodread's list of terrible books is a great idea. You don’t want to read the DaVinci Code? Besides what if he’s late?”

“They just have to kiss,” Taylor says, “you didn’t specify that it had to happen at midnight.”

Five minutes til midnight.

Once everyone piles outside, you keep glancing back towards the road, hoping to see his car pull up any minute now. Everyone was talking and getting antsy. A few people were streaming the program that was on in the living room for the countdown on their phones. Taylor and some of the others grabbed sparklers and you hear a car approaching. You quickly separate from the others walking to the front yard through the snow. You’re at his door before he even has a chance to shut the car off, “Richard, you made it! You’re still in your uniform?!”

“I did!” he said breathlessly and got out, “I got someone to cover for me so I could leave a few hours early. I told him he owed me one.” he shut the car door and his hands were in his coat pockets, and you immediately link an arm with his as you walk back, “Told him I had some friends I wanted to spend New Years with.”

“Aaayye man of the hour, there’s Richard!” Taylor called waving the both of you over, “We were wondering if you’d be able to make it.” she walked over and greeted him with a hug, “Have you met my husband?”

“No, No. I don’t believe I have.” Richard looks around, feeling anxious at suddenly being the center of attention. You can see his cheeks turn rosy with the cold as Richard huffs out a breath, fishing around in his pocket for something. They’re quickly introduced and shake hands as Richard asks, “How much time do we have left?”

“Two minutes! Glad you’re here buddy.” another book club member said patting him on the back with a knowing smile, “I refuse to let Devon pick next month’s book.”

“What? I thought it was Taylor’s turn.” Richard asked his brows furrowing in confusion, pulling out a small baggie of grapes.

“Oh grapes. You didn’t get a lunch break? We have plenty of food inside if you’re hungry.” Taylor’s husband offered. Taylor gives him a look and tells him to focus on the countdown.

You snuggle closer to Richard watching as he opens the Ziploc bag. “Oh, lemme have one!” you say reaching for the bag with your free hand.

“Nope!” he said holding the bag out playfully and you pout as he chuckles, “I brought you your own bag of grapes.” Richard smiles unlinking his arm from you and pulls another bag from his other pocket. He quickly moves it out of arm’s reach and explains, “-But you have to wait.”

“It’s okay. I can wait.” you smile and hesitantly wrap your arms around him under his open coat, looking at him with a smile, grinning a little wider as he doesn’t pull away, just enjoying the moment. Snow starts to fall and the corners of Richard’s eyes crinkle as he looks at you with a small smile. You say, “I’m glad you came. I think you just made my night.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” he spoke softly, losing himself in the moment forgetting how close they were to the New Year.

10…9…

Richard suddenly breaks apart from you and hands you one of the bags of grapes, you look up at him in confusion with a furrowed brow while the other people around you chant the countdown, “We’re eating these. Midnight.”

8…7…

“What?” You look at him taken aback, a little disheartened that the hope of the midnight kiss quickly dissipating, but open the baggie anyway.

6…5…

“Follow my lead. 1 wish per grape.”

4…3…

You watch his hands, briefly wishing those hands were cupping your face instead as he grabs the first grape.

2…1… HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Fireworks across the lake erupt as you hear people cheer and watch them hug and kiss from your peripheral vision, but it feels like it’s only you and him.

1st Grape: Intense eye contact.

2nd Grape: Nodding. I got this.

3rd Grape: Oh shit I’m supposed to be wishing.

4th Grape: Kiss Richard.

5th Grape: Kiss Richard.

6th Grape: Too fast! My mouth is full.

7th Grape: I feel like a chipmunk.

8th Grape: Please don’t let me choke.

9th Grape: Winning the Lottery

10th Grape: How?

11th Grape: My mouth is too small for this

12th Grape: I can’t keep up.

You try swallowing some grape mush as you eat the last one covering your mouth while you try not to choke. Your cheeks hurt from the endeavor, but Richard looks so happy. A seasoned pro, he finishes the grapes before you and draws you into a hug, “Happy New Year! It’s a Hispanic tradition my mom and I did every year. 12 grapes, 12 months, 12 wishes for the new year. I’ve done it with whoever I worked with the last few years, but I told them I wanted to do it with someone special this year.”

You nod, still chewing the last little bit of grape and swallowing, looking at his rosy cheeks, his face highlighted by the fireworks. “Happy New Year, Richard! Thank you for sharing it with me.” You chuckle, “Do you have any other traditions?”

“Well, Mom and I used to run around the block with our suitcases. It’s so we could travel in the new year.” He says chuckling, getting a little quieter, “As she got older, we would walk. One year I took her suitcase with mine, and then we just kinda stopped when she couldn’t do it anymore.”

“No suitcase tonight?” you asked leaning into him a little more.

“Nah, I can’t do everything.” he chuckled, “Maybe if I didn’t have to work on New Year’s Eve.”

“You know what my favorite tradition is?” you ask looking at his lips

“Hmmm?” He asks with a raised brow, but with how he gets closer you know he’s clearly pretending not to know. “Is it the fireworks?”

You both turn your faces to watch the fireworks briefly, your heart is pounding knowing it’s now or never, hoping everyone is distracted by the fireworks display and not watching you two. “They are pretty. Getting together with friends, watching the fireworks, feeling like we have a fresh start…it’s all great.” You reach up with your cold hand cupping his warm face, turning him to face you, and he leans in resting forehead against yours, “A New Year’s kiss though… with someone you really care about…” It’s a chaste kiss, feeling your lips press together, the slight tickle of his mustache under your nose. It truly feels like it was just the two of you on the lake, kissing under the fireworks, his coat crinkling slightly as he moved his hands to your waist, one moving to the middle of your back holding you to him for a little longer.

“Happy New Year,” you whisper against his lips. You both part and he looks at you with a bashful smile, before immediately going in for another kiss. The both of you are brought back to reality as you hear your friends cheer around you, hooping and hollering. You hear Taylor boasting about knowing you both had it in you, so excited that Devon isn’t picking the DaVinci Code.

Richard pulls back, looking a little alarmed and confused. His face is even rosier than before as he realizes he just kissed you in front of the whole book club and a bunch of strangers. You chuckle, burying your head in his neck. “I can explain later.”

The rest of the night albeit short goes smoothly. His arms are wrapped around you with his chin on your shoulder as you both watch the remainder of the fireworks his lips occasionally grazing your neck. After that, it’s a simple handhold as people warm up inside and catch up with you and Richard. He invites you over after the New Year’s party and you both cuddle up on his couch with his dog as he kisses you again, the both of you growing tired as it reaches 2 am, “I can’t believe they took bets.”

“I know.” You chuckle, your fingers intertwining with his, your hands just casually playing with each other. You're enjoying this new touchy side of Richard. He cuddles, and he's affectionate.

He brings your interlinked hands up to his, kissing the back of your hand. “I do have to tell you, there is one tradition I didn’t tell you about.”

You yawn tiredly, your head resting on his shoulder, “Mmhmm, what's that?”

“It's a bit personal, but I think it's brought me luck already.” He says quietly, and you feel his mustache brush your forehead as he kisses between your brows. “You can wear gold for wealth or red for intimacy.” He shifts a little blushing and pulls the band of his boxers above his sweatpants just enough to see red.

“Richard, you chose love over wealth?” You mumbled quietly, your eyes growing heavy with sleep as you smiled.

Warm, worn hands erupt in light, grasping hers and pulling her to her feet in a familiar dance. She was suddenly twirling around to meet a familiar pair of kind brown eyes. Her brow furrows as she continues the song with more confidence, “I know you, the gleam in your eyes so familiar a gleam.”

Richard’s hand squeezes hers as they dance like they have time and time again, “There you are.” his eyes crinkle in the corners as he smiles at her.  She watches him in awe as sand falls from their joined hands, and from it springs a meadow, “Yet, I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem. But if I know you, I know what you'll do. You'll know me at once, the way you did once upon a dream.”

“My Prince. We’ve danced before.” She brings a hand to cup his face, and Richard’s whole face beams at her recognition. She sees the shiny remnants from his golden brown skin on her hand as he pulls away. “You’re different.”

“It’s Stardust.” He explains, “I’m not your Prince, but I cannot let you suffer in darkness, my sleeping beauty. I go by many names throughout time. I am the Sandman, the Dream-Weaver, the Sand Merchant, Lord of Dreams, Prince of Sleep. Those are just titles they give me, but you can call me Richard.”

“Richard? The sandman? I’m dreaming right now?”

 “Yes, but there is more.”  Richard guides her, sitting down in a new area, the edge of a body of water, leading to the dark he saved her from. The sandman tells her about the curse and comforts her as the light in her eyes dims. “Time will go on like sand through your fingers, but you don’t need to fear the wait. This dream will be of your creation. Look.” He becons and guides her a few feet forward until her toes feel water. He pulls out a small bag, and stardust seeps through his hand to the rippling water. She sees the reflection of stars disturbed by lily pads erupting from the water’s surface. Frogs jump and fireflies dance among them. 

She looks up in wonder, “It’s beautiful.” 

Richard doesn’t need to look up to see his creation; he’s seen and created it all. He’s more enamoured by the princess’s wonder beside him. “Absolutely gorgeous.” He takes a step back and hands her the bag, a knowing smile on his face, his mustache shifts in excited anticipation. “Now I want you to try. Think of something, anything.”

Her fingers brush against the dust in the bag. “All of this comes from sand?”

“Mortals call it sand. It’s Stardust.”

The princess holds the small bag in her palm, her other hand feeling the grains of sand between her fingertips, under her nails as she thinks of warmth. The sun on her skin. But when her eyes open, it’s still the stars from the sandman reflected in the water, no hues of pink or orange with a peeking sun. She turns to him, defeated. “I was hoping for the sunrise.” He tries with stardust in his pockets, but the sky remains dark.

“Hmm, perhaps we start small. Together,” he says and stands beside her as he guides her hand into the bag and whispers in her ear, “Think of a cottage. Something to call your own. Fling the stardust from your fingers, like sewing seeds.”

In The time that follows, Richard is amazed at what his sleeping beauty does with the bottomless bag of stardust. He leaves her dreams to tend to the world’s slumber, but each time he returns, he’s in awe of the beauty of her creation. At first, everything is based on reality. Meadows of flowers, animals to be her companions, butterflies, and gardens of opulence. 

Then something shifts in the air with time, and her sparkle returns. She starts to sing, and they dance again. Her creations are more fantastical. Feet would dance upon stepping stone clouds, leading to sky gardens. A rowboat that can glide through the aurora between the stars. “But if I know you, I know what you'll do. La-la, la-la, la, ah, ah, ah.” He can see her lingering glances, how she stands closer to him and would take his hand in hers, how she no longer asked if her true love was any closer to waking her.

“Are you my true love? No one else comes. No one else stays but you.” His sleeping beauty ponders as her head rests in a field of pink and blue grass, both of them wearing flower crowns they had made for each other. 

“N-No. It cannot be.” The Sandman gulps, his face heated as he looks out at the horizon. “I wish it were so. But my touch keeps you cradled in dreams; it’s not for waking. It will be a mortal. A prince, a princess, a knight. The possibilities are endless.”

“I don’t want the love of just any human!” she laments, and the Auroras in the sky mirror her intensity. It’s one of the things he loves; almost everything is just…wearing heart on her sleeve.  “Not when we’re here together. You visited me before my fingerprick, and are you not here after every nightfall for me? Are you not here to court me with dreams and stardust?”

Richard reaches to wipe the tears that threaten the night sky with rain, “Your light shines so bright, even in sorrow.“ he pauses, looking up, trying to blink away his own, “but I cannot be the keeper of your heart.”

His Sleeping Beauty grabs his hand in hers, pressing his open palm to her heart. “Then why does my heart ache when you leave?” 

The sandman closes his eyes, exhaling shakily, head hanging in surrender against hers, “Hearts are foolishly human. Hearts remember emotions: hope, fear, love, excitement, and yearning for something more. They want beyond reason.” 

“And you?”

Richard’s eyes flicker open as he savors the warmth of her skin, the closeness, and the feeling of another heartbeat that isn’t his own. Their noses brush as she waits with baited breathe; this was nothing but a tragedy now. “With you, I’ve never felt more human.”

“Be with me in slumber, show me what true love could be till I wake.” She pleads and kisses him, as they collapse into the grass, crowns forgotten. Richard shows her, again and again, every meeting till he parts to lull the world to sleep.

Time continues; months turn to years. Both of them have themselves convinced that he, an immortal, could be her true love. The Sandman returns to her resting place, and he talks to her body as if she could hear him, “I feel so much when I am with you. Could I not be your true love?” he presses a kiss to her hand as he perches next to her in the dusty bedchambers, “I feel so much it’s unbearable. I don’t want to give you up. Not to this true love of yours. They don’t know your mind, how to soothe your fears, how your eyes shimmer like the Aurora. This mortal doesn’t know what makes you sing with pleasure. They don’t know you… cannot see the love in your eyes like I do.”

Richard can feel himself rocking back and forth, full of fear, hope, all the foolish things a mortal heart could feel, “I love you.” He admits with a broken whisper and presses his lips to her forehead, willing her to wake, “Let it be enough. Please, let it be enough. I will shuck off this immortality, the stardust, the dreams, just to see your eyes so familiar agleam.”

His lips are gentle against hers, lingering as if waiting for her to wake and welcome Richard into her embrace. He starts to tremble, whimpering against her lips as the ache in his chest overwhelms him, “No! Please!-” he kisses her again and once more until there is no doubt that no amount of love between them can change it. “I cannot wake you.” his voice breaks, Sandman chokes out a sob, “Why can’t I wake you?” his grip on her limp hand tightens as sorrow settles in the pit of his stomach. The Sandman’s head drops to her shoulder, cradling her hand, “ I am so sorry. I can give you the world in slumber, but never wake you with the dawn - a power I do not possess. My Sleeping Beauty, forgive me.”

She was in a new garden that had appeared overnight over a dull Aurora. Something felt amiss in the garden paths, broken glass turning to stardust under her bare feet. Every piece that hung is cracked, spiderwebbing and destroying the art of a future he dreamed of. Flowers scattered along the garden hedge between the stained glass, each one full of whispered pleas of dreamers he cannot reach. Through blurry eyes the stained glass mirrored what he could never experience. Richard standing by Sleeping Beauty on her coronation day. Another -the two of them during their forest wedding, with whispered vows before the Royal spectacle. One with both of them in a courtyard as a faceless wobbly baby walks between them. Each reflection of hope was a stab to his heart. He didn’t know how to tell her, so his subconscious weaved this instead, “My love, I-”

“This is us, isn’t it? Awake?” They turn to meet each other’s tearful gaze, “Something we’ll never be together?”

He breaks down, mirroring the broken reflection of a family he’ll never have. “How do I spare my torment?!?  I failed you! Please forgive me.  It isn’t real. We can’t be real!” His fists bang on the surface, and it fractures as he crumples to the ground, stardust pooling in his cuts as he shatters stained glass.

“No! No! Don’t!” she pleads, rushing and reaching for his hands, cradling them close in an effort to stop the stardust, “You tried. It shan’t bode well to dwell on what the waking realm won’t give us. We have right now, Richard. We can’t spend it in sorrow.”

“I tried,” The Sandman trembles, “You wouldn’t wake. You are so beautiful out there, my love. The world is missing out on you mind, your grace. I couldn’t wake you.” he laments, clinging to her, as if her true love would snatch her from his grasp at any moment. “You deserve so much more!”

“Everything I want is right here. You, this place.” She says, weaving the stardust that falls from his hands into cloth strips to wrap his hands. “I hardly remember what the waking world was before sleep.” She helps him back to their cottage and the Sandman finds solace in her embrace as she quietly sings their song and plays with the curls in his hair as he buries his face in her neck, “But if I know you, I know what you'll do, You'll love me at once, The way you did once upon our dream.”

“I love you, my Sleeping Beauty,” he murmurs weakly into her neck, “I’ll never stop.”

It is not easy, each meeting, each kiss, each touch was a solemn reminder in the back of their minds that with each meeting could be their last. Silences were heavier, but the whispered words upon clouds under the moonlight were deep: Would she remember him when she awoke? Would he still visit her if she couldn’t? Questions that slowly faded as peace crescendoed into their lives once more in the months and years that passed.

One unassuming day, they stepped out of the cottage when everything seemed lighter. There was wind blowing the leaves of the trees away, and over the horizon, past the lake, the sun was beginning to rise. “Richard, the sun- does it mean?” she turned to him frantically, grabbing at his robes as if she could will time to stand still. Someone is at her bedside with love strong enough to do what the Sandman couldn’t. 

“I think it is, my love.” The Sandman holds her as her dream is now slowly giving way to his personal nightmare, separation from her with the dawn.

“How long do we have?” she questioned holding his face in her hands, stroking his tears away as the run down his cheeks “I don’t wanna go. I don’t want to forget you.”

“I don’t know.” His voice ached with the realization of his nightmare. No amount of stardust in the fabric of time and space could stop this curse, “I don’t know,” he repeated nervously, trying to be strong for her .”But this isn’t the end, it’s a beginning for you. You’ll be among the waking world once again. It’s what you deserve.”

“No! It’s the end of us! Of this,” she cried and kissed him deeply, “I won’t love them as I love you.”

Her words constricted his throat as he poured his heart out, “You were never meant to sleep forever. They will say your true love saved you from the darkness. They’ll write songs and stories about you both...Remember, I loved you in the dark! I gave you the power to create mystical worlds to live in when you could not wake. Our love defies time and reality. It’s real because we lived it.”

 They both could feel the wind pick up, see everything slowly getting brighter and brighter as everything gradually dissolved into dust. Another desperate kiss as the sun continued to rise, “You’re my true love. You were here. You kept showing up. You stayed,” she cried.

It had been a few days since you returned from the trip abroad, and you still couldn’t catch Steven to get the spare key back to your apartment. His schedule was often the opposite of yours, and every time, you just continued to miss each other by mere minutes to and from the system’s various jobs. The responses to your texts to meet up the past few days were from Marc. They were short and avoidant, unlike the flirty, flowery texts Steven would send you featuring selfies with the plants he had watered for that day. 

One night, Steven initiated a late-night video chat, trying to cheer you up after a difficult night with your parents and co-workers. Then you realized the neighbor across the hall might have liked you more than you thought. His tired smile while he lay in bed at 2 in the morning, the freshly showered curls he brushed out of his face while he consoled you and let you vent about your issues made you realize you liked him back just as much. He told you about his boss, Donna, while you told him about your equally horrible boss while you’re stationed across the pond for work. Towards the end of your trip, you were starting to miss your home away from home more than you enjoyed being in your hometown, and it desperately showed in another Facetime call.

Marc started fronting the last few nights before you flew home, and the conversations were short. There were no selfies with your plants. He would just text, “Watering is done.” or “This cat’s shits are the worst thing I ever smelled.” Steven didn’t front as much, but his presence was still there. He even added googly eyes to the potted plants just to make you smile and laugh. Marc had sent you a phone with the caption, “I guess Steven snuck in when I thought I was asleep.” By the time you boarded your flight back to London, you were yearning to talk to Steven again, but it didn’t seem like you had that connection with Mark.

It was a rainy day, and you had just taken some of your propagated spider plants and potted them in some small terracotta pots when you checked your phone once again to see when you could meet up with Steven or Marc to get your spare key back. Nothing. You sat on the couch, placed the little spider plants on the coffee table, and leaned your elbows on your knees, your hand holding your chin as you huffed out a sigh, looking aimlessly around your apartment. If they weren’t interested, they would at least give you your key back, right? Hell, even just slide it under your door and never speak to you again. That was an option, too, right? Why are the boys stalling?

You reached to the sheet of googly eyes left by Steven and placed two eyes on each side of the plants’ pots. You couldn’t help but chuckle, and you decided to take it to the next level by reaching to grab a Sharpie to draw mouths to accompany each pair of eyes. On one side of the pot, a sad face with a tear, the other a smiley face. You did that with two of the pots, turning the sad faces towards you. You study them and pull out your phone, taking a picture of the tragic little spider plants, turn the pots, and repeat with the other side. Feeling mischievous and opening the texts, scrolling down to find their number, you attach the picture of the sad pots with the caption: “The plants miss you.” and hit send, waiting for his reaction.

After a few hours of sound sleep, you gradually become aware of a faint buzzing sound. As you start to stir and open your eyes, you realize your phone is on the table next to you, vibrating with incoming messages. You stretch your arms and legs, feeling your cat's weight on your chest and the warmth of its fur against your skin. Slowly, you sit up on the couch, blinking and yawning before picking up your phone. You squint at the screen, adjusting to the brightness, and see that two new texts are waiting for you. Your heart skips a beat as you realize they're from Steven, the person you've been waiting to hear back from. As you unlock your phone, your cat moves to the opposite end of the couch and curls up, seemingly undisturbed by your sudden movement.

“We should turn those plants' frowns upside down! -S” sent the text at 6:00 pm.

“???”- Was the last text sent at 9:00 pm.

The clock on the wall showed 9:52 PM, and you let out a deep sigh. You walked up to the window and glanced outside, only to see that it was pitch black and raining heavily. You couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment, as you knew that you had probably missed meeting up with the boys again. You knew that Marc often picked up late-night shifts, but he never told you what he did.

With a tiny sliver of hope, you slide your phone into your pocket and pick up the two plants you had meant to give Steven. You stepped into some comfy slippers, went to his apartment across the hall, and knocked on the door, hoping he was home.

“Just a moment!” Steven calls, and you smile, feeling your heart start to race. After weeks of texting back and forth, you finally get to see him in person. After hearing several locks hurriedly being undone, Steven swings the door open to greet you, “Evenin’ Looking to get your spare key back?” breathing heavily, messy, damp curls in his face with an awkward smile and wrinkled brow. “Oh, you brought plants over?” he looked down at the two small plants with sad faces facing him.

“To be fair, they missed you. Look at them!” You try and smile. “I thought you might like them. A little extra thank you for caring for my cat and plants..”

“Oh. Oh! Thank you!” Steven said wide-eyed, “You can come on in if you like. I think Marc left your key by the fridge.” he gestured, letting you inside.

You step inside and kick your slippers off, looking around in awe at the sheer number of books. You could tell he had a lot of books from the video chats, but the amount of books covering the bookcases and every surface in his flat was beyond your imagination, “Wow… you have your books, I have my plants.” ​​

“I’m not bothering you boys or anything, am I?” you ask distantly. Despite the clutter, the flat just had this cozy feel, like you’d want to sit on a couch and curl up with Steven, blankets, tea, and a book.

“Ahhh yeah. Usually, I do a lot of reading when I can’t sleep.” Steven confessed sheepishly, rubbing his neck, “Would you like a cuppa or anything?” He asked from his tiny kitchen, already grabbing two cups from the cupboard.

“Yeah, sure,” you say, studying the makeshift furniture before you. A wooden top balancing upon half an end table and a sawhorse, with a small desk lamp on the left side, formed the kitchen table. Papers, maps, dirty dishes, and a magnifying glass lay on the table with other small tchotchkes. You walked past it to take in the rest of Marc and Steven’s flat, realizing it probably wasn’t the safest, sturdiest place for his first two plants.

“No. No!” Steven said quickly, “Not sure what Marc was doing before, but judging from the wet hair, probably a shower or somethin’.” Steven suggested offhandly as he put the kettle on.

Steven comes after you and grabs the plants from you, not noticing the hat or gloves. “Sorry about the mess. I’d blame Marc, but he’s always nagging at me to clean. Just never thought we’d have company.” He scurries around as if trying to find a spot to put them. Eventually, he settles, puts the plants on a small coffee table, and rushes to clear the couch of cardboard boxes before gesturing for you to sit down.

You walk further into the flat to see his desk against the skylight. It was still just as cluttered as the makeshift table, but at least the desk didn’t look like it would break with adding a plant or two, but space would have to be made for them. You shuffled around, and your foot bumped into something wet, a newsboy hat and leather gloves tucked under the desk, presumably damp from the rain.

You sit down on the worn leather couch and smile at him, moving one of the open boxes into your lap, just happy he was shifting all this stuff around to make space for you in the apartment, “It’s no problem, really. I was the one that just knocked on your door, no warning.”

“To be fair, Marc should’ve spent the last little bit sorting the place out instead of doing whatever he was doin'. Taking a shower, maybe; everything feels a little damp’,” Steven murmured as he sat on the couch. “ I-I was hoping you would come over, though,” he said, interlocking his own fingers together, not sure what to do with them, before just setting them down on his thighs.

“It’s fine. Really.” you try to reassure Steven, scooting closer to him on the couch, holding the box to your chest. “My apartment was totally deep-cleaned before I left. It’s usually not that clean, a little more cluttered.”

“Oh, yeah? Feel a bit better ‘bout this then.” Steven gestured to his organized chaos of the hastily moved boxes around the both of you.

You move a bit closer to him again under the guise of setting the box by your feet, “How was the flight? Still got any jet lag?” he quietly asks as you set the box down, and a well-worn VHS cover catches your eye, not even recognizing he was trying to make small talk.

You lean forward and pick the VHS up, “What's this relic of the past doing here?” I flip it over and read the title out loud, trying to tease him light-heartedly. “Tomb Buster? Huh. What sort of Off-brand Indiana Jones, B- movie, is this?” you chuckle, holding it up to Steven to show him without looking at the cover.

Steven froze like you had just found something extremely private and personal. “Well…uh-um-” his mouth open and shut, repeatedly struggling to find the words to say. Your brow furrows in confusion, wondering why the movie created such a reaction. He looks at his reflection on the TV in shock.

You turn the VHS tape around and look at the cover more closely. Moving your thumb, you  quietly read the wording at the bottom of the VHS tape, “When danger is near, Steven Grant has no fear?”

Steven darted nervously from the TV fearfully back to you, and he gulped audibly, speaking in a bit of a shaky voice “It’s one of Marc’s all-time favorite movies as a kid. It’s important to him, and he says he’s offended you called it ‘off-brand Indiana Jones.’”

“Oh.” You look back at the TV but don’t see what Steven sees. You spy the VHS player next to the Blu-ray, both covered in a thin layer of dust. “Have you ever seen it?” you ponder curiously.

Steven heaves a heavy sigh and takes the VHS tape from your hands, his warm fingers lingering on top of your own before placing the tape aside, “No. I haven’t.” he confessed quietly, looking up at you with sorrowful eyes. “Don’t think I’ll live up to my namesake.”

“Steven?” your hands reach out to grasp his again, feeling them tremble slightly. You rub the back of his hands with your thumbs, hoping to ease his anxiety.

“I’m not- I’m just something that Marc made up,” he whispered, ashamed, looking down at the VHS tape, “I found out when I saw- the movie poster one day. In his childhood bedroom.” He seemed to zone out for a moment, but when the kettle started whistling, it was like he had jumped out of his skin. He got up without a word, walking quickly to the stove as if thankful for the out in the conversation.

Steven sniffed as he grabbed a tin of tea bags from the cupboard trying to change the subject, “English Breakfast? Chamomile? I have lots. Take your pic.”

You felt awful as you stared down at the VHS tape. Dr. Steven Grant looked back at you as if judging you harshly. The plants' faces that felt comical mimicked the sadness of the heavy topic in the air. It never crossed your mind to ask who was the original and who was the alter. Part of you assumed it was Steven because you saw him the most between the two boys.

You slowly get up from the couch, follow him into the kitchen, and boldly wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him from behind. Steven freezes again, avoiding your gaze, “Chai. I don’t care which one of you is original.” you murmur, resting your head against his shoulder as he slowly prepares his tea. You sighed, your breath on his neck making his hair stand on end, your lips almost brushing against his neck. “Our texts, the late-night Facetime, they were real, right? I always looked forward to your texts. There was something real between us, right?”

Steven nodded as he reached out to pick up the chai tea packet and tore it open. He then dunked the tea bag into the water for you. You tried to catch his gaze as you leaned against the counter to gauge his reaction. He seemed lost in thought, rocking against the countertop and staring straight into space. Finally, he looked at you and began pouring out his emotions. "But I'm not real!" he exclaimed, his voice cracking. "How could you be happy with us? Marc said you'd be daft to care about someone as bonkers as us. He doesn't know why I told you about us in the first place. He thinks we should keep our distance..."

“Steven! Marc!” you exclaim, trying to break his downward spiral, physically turning him into you, your hands grabbing his arms, almost wanting to shake some sense into him “I don’t care! I do care! I mean-”

His lips crash on yours, and before you know it, your hands find his curls, still a little wet from earlier, and he’s leaning against you, his hands on either side of you on the counter. As your cheeks touch, you can feel the tears that spilled down his, dampening your own. As you feel him suck your lower lip, he moves his hands to your hips. After a second, he pulls back, his face tinted with blush, apologizing profusely, “Sorry-I-shouldn’t have- I never- Not like this-”

“It’s okay. It’s more than okay.” I smile, caressing his cheek before kissing him again softly, trying to convey how much you care while your lips move against his.

“We should have a sit-down, yeah?” Steven asked quietly after a minute. You grabbed your mugs and moved back to the couch to sit. Steven takes a bit sip of his tea before setting it down on the coffee table. “I didn’t realize I was created to help Marc until very recently-” he began, and you reached out and rested your hand over his. “The way I found out wasn’t ideal. It was actually pretty traumatic.” He looked over at his reflection on the TV, pausing the conversation as your heart raced.

“Is Marc saying something?” you question

“It’s like we can see and hear each other in reflections sometimes. I don’t know how it works, but it does.” Steven comments, still looking at the black TV screen, before turning to meet your gaze again, “You know we have D.I.D, but I never told you why-”

“Oh Steven, it’s okay, I don’t need to…,” you try to say, squeezing his hand as you set my mug of tea down by the VHS tape. Steven’s guard came down with a small sigh of relief. “Steven, you or Marc can tell me when you’re ready. It doesn’t need to be tonight. We can just hang out or something.”

“Thank you.” Steven smiled earnestly. He looked back down at Tomb Busters and grabbed the tape, “Marc says we need to watch this ‘cinematic masterpiece’ before we trash talk it.” 

He looked at the back of the VHS, reading the synopsis. “Here, you’ll find archaeologist Grant up to his neck in danger and -spiders- up to his kneecaps in crawling arachnids. Steven hates spiders!!” he hums and nods in agreement. “He hates Nazis, too, and he’ll stop at nothing to keep those goose-stepping goons from obtaining the mystical statue of Coyolxauhqui.”

“Sounds like Indiana, but he hates snakes.”

It takes a minute to set it up, but Tomb Buster is playing on the TV as you snuggle into Steven under a blanket. It was almost like Marc and Steven were watching the movie with you. Steven repeated Marc’s commentary as the film went on, and much to your enjoyment, Marc even confessed that the movie was indeed a lot cheesier now that he was watching it as an adult. You were surprised Marc didn’t front to watch it himself, but it seemed like he wanted Steven to have some sort of positive experience with his namesake on the tv.

It was easy to pick up on some of the mannerisms that belonged to both the Steven on screen, and the Steven that gradually shifted to holding you as the movie continued. You would give his hand a slight squeeze or kiss his cheek when something was recognized, hoping it wasn’t too much of a challenging experience to see Marc’s muse for Steven on screen, but if it was, he never lot on. The movie concluded with a hint of a sequel, but after a quick internet search, you find the sequel never made it past the writer’s room.

“Float like a butterfly, sting like a Bee. My name is Steven with a V.” Steven sighed, disappointed when the movie finished. “I thought I came up with that.”

“When did you say that?” you ask, looking up at him.

“A while ago.” he spoke, gazing at you tenderly, “Watching Dr. Grant was odd, but it wasn’t as weird as I thought it would be. Thank you for watching it with us.”

You smile at him and sit up, glancing at the clock on your phone. It was nearly midnight. “Do you have work in the morning?” I asked quietly

Steven shrugs it off, “Yeah, but I don’t sleep much, remember? I’d Facetime you until 2 am at least.”

“I remember. Seeing you lay in bed, I couldn’t help but think your chest would make a good pillow.” you admit, feeling your cheeks heat up at the confession, “and I was right.”

Steven's face flushed with a tinge of pink as he leaned forward and whispered in your ear, his lips brushing against your skin. "Can I kiss you again?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. You couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in your chest. You nodded, leaning towards him, but he suddenly shifted his position, reaching for the spider plants nearby and hiding their googly-eyed expressions. "Don't need the spider plants watching us, do we?" he quipped, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You couldn't help but laugh at his comment, burying your head in his neck before your lips met again in another slow, passionate kiss. Steven seemed a little unsure of what to do with his hands, but he eventually rested them on your hips, his fingers trailing up and down your sides in a soft caress.

As you leaned your head against Steven's, you whispered breathlessly, "Maybe I don't need that spare key back after all."