#stevo levy

It'd all been a spur of the moment thing decided over drinks. It wasn't supposed to last this long. It wasn't supposed to mean that much. That's how Stevo sees it anyway, or at least he did. He isn't sure when his feelings changed. It's hard to count the days when he's been too busy trying to repress it all. He can't go falling in love, not after all the shit he gave Bob about the whole proposing to Trish thing.

All of that's not to say he regrets marrying Sev. God no. He doesn't think he could ever regret that. Even if the dating and the marriage is all just an act to fool his parents into leaving him the fuck alone, it's still good. It works for them. Or that's what Stevo keeps telling himself, but even that's starting to get harder to believe.

He yawns as he wakes up and absently reaches over to feel for Sev in the bed. Sev has his own room of course but these days it seems he sleeps over with Stevo more often than not. Stevo doesn't mind that. Sev wakes from nightmares far less frequently when Stevo is there and Stevo would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the extra warmth at night.

Sev isn't next to him though. That alone isn't too unusual really, Sev tends to wake up before Stevo most mornings anyway, but usually Stevo wakes up to the smell of coffee or the sound of Sev strumming away at his guitar. Today though the apartment is silent. Stevo can't hear anything at all, not even Sev's footsteps as he goes about his morning. A pit starts to form in his stomach but he tries to push it down. Maybe Sev just fell back to sleep?

Stevo leaves his room and sleepily walks off in the direction of the living room. He can see the messy fuzz of Sev's hair over the back of the couch and he wants to smile, but Sev barely reacts to the noise of him approaching. It feels wrong. He steps into view and stretches, joints cracking with the movement, before he flings himself down onto the couch next to Sev.

Sev doesn't say anything, doesn't even acknowledge him. Stevo watches Sev twist the wedding ring around on his finger. He's seen Sev do this a few times now, enough to know it's some kind of nervous thing. Stevo isn't exactly good at the whole comforting people thing, and Sev doesn't seem like he's ready to talk about whatever's bothering him either, so Stevo starts talking about something completely unrelated.

“Bob and Trish are hosting a party tonight at their new place. Like some housewarming shit but with more booze than the normies do it.” Stevo is happy for them, really, even if he thinks the whole settling down and falling in love thing is poser behaviour. “So I'm thinking we go and—”

“I can't.”

Okay, that was blunt, but he knows how Sev can get when he's set on something. “Got something better going on?” Stevo asks. He's pretty sure Sev doesn't – they tend to go to any parties together. They're sorta a package deal these days. Still, maybe Sev's gotten himself invited to something fun. “Can I tag along? I don't feel like watching them get all touchy with each other anyway.”

“No, it's…” Sev trails off then and the fidgeting of his hands only seems to get worse. Is he on something? That's also something they only really ever do together, so Stevo would be a little annoyed if that were the case.

Then Sev stands up and Stevo watches his friend start to pace back and forth in their small living room. “I can't do this. Whatever this is. The lying, the– the acting, the marriage, everything. I can't do it.”

Stevo has experienced a lot of pain in his life. He's been beaten black and blue, had bones broken, a few too many concussions. Hell, he got stabbed once, even if it wasn't that deep and all he needed was a couple stitches. He knows pain. Sometimes he even likes it. This though… It's like being sliced open entirely, having his organs torn one by one from his body and trampled in front of him. His heart beats so loud in his chest he worries it may explode.

“What?” He manages to choke out. He isn't sure how long it takes for his lungs to start working again.

Sev refuses to look at him. He's facing away entirely, pacing paused, still as a statue. “It's too much,” he says. “We're just… I think we should tell your parents we're breaking up. They'll probably give you a grace period to like… recover or whatever before they start bugging you to settle down again. I just… I can't keep doing this.”

He needs to say something. Anything. There's no way this is happening right now. He scrambles for any excuse and flings the first one out that he can think of, “but this is working for us.”

He knows it's a weak one. This whole thing works in theory of course, but even he can see the cracks. Something has been wrong for a while, and Stevo is just clinging on in a desperate attempt to save it.

Sev sighs. “I can't put my life on hold forever. You can't seriously expect that from me.” That alone feels like another twist of the knife, but then Sev continues with, “And– I mean, come on, you can't do that to yourself either. It's not fair for either of us.”

His brain replays every moment someone has walked away from him. Every time on the playground as a kid that he'd be picked last, every time his parents would choose arguing with each other over spending time with him, every time a girlfriend in his teen years had decided another boy was cooler. He thinks about Bob settling down with Trish, and Sandy choosing other guys over him.

He thinks about Sev making him coffee in the morning, and going to parties with him, and talking about a new album that'd come out, and making new patches for his jacket at 3am, and falling asleep next to Stevo despite always being so scared to sleep around everyone else. He thinks about Sev giving up his chance to seriously date other people by agreeing to marry him. He thinks about Sev getting along with Stevo's parents. He thinks about Sev's smile, his laugh, the constellations of freckles on his cheeks, the scratch of his voice in the early morning.

Shit, he's been such a fucking idiot.

“Marry me,” he says, because he's not sure how else to word the jumble of thoughts currently twisting up in his brain.

Sev turns around and for a moment Stevo feels a shred of hope. Then, Sev says, “We're already married. That's the whole problem here, I can't—"

He's scrambling. He's on the edge of a cliff and he's barely hanging on. “I'm serious,” Stevo says. He hopes Sev can hear it in his voice. “We'll do it properly this time. Big wedding, invite whoever you want. We'll go all out. Whatever you wanna do.”

He's never felt so strongly about anything in his life. He'd give up everything if that's what it took. He'd go to law school like his dad wants, he'd stay in Salt Lake City forever even if he fucking hates it, he'd tear out his own damn heart if that's what he needed to do to prove himself.

“You can't do this just because you're afraid to be alone,” Sev says. He sounds so sad, so exhausted, completely drained of the energy Stevo is so used to. His words hurt too. Of course they do. Not just because they're true, but because Sev knows him so deeply, and can see the parts of him that Stevo can't vocalise. So why can't he see how badly Stevo needs him? Sev continues, “I can't play husbands with you forever.”

Thinking about it though, Sev isn't entirely right. It isn't being alone that scares him. Not really. So he defends himself. “I'm not afraid of being alone—”

But Sev cuts him off again. “No? So you weren't upset when Bob told us he was proposing to Trish?” Ouch. “You weren't upset when Sandy ended things with you?” Ouch. “You weren't upset when—”

Stevo can't hold it in anymore. He stands up, a bubbling pit of emotion mixing inside of him and exploding out. “I don't give a shit about being alone!” He yells. He wants to scream, wants to put his hand through the wall, wants to numb all of this grief with a pain he's more familiar with. “I don't. I care about not having you!”

It's out in the open now, hanging heavy above them. Stevo feels like he can't breathe. He's a hurt kid begging to be seen, to be heard, to be loved. For once he just wants to be wanted. He wants someone to not walk away from him. He drops down to the floor and pain radiates through his knees and up his legs but he couldn't care less. Nothing matters. Nothing but this could possibly matter right now.

He doesn't remember the last time he cried, but he's crying now, big heaving sobs that make his throat sore and lungs burn. He can feel his face burn red hot with the effort of it all. His arms wrap around himself in a faux hug. He wants his parents. He wants Bob.

He wants Sev.

He must look pathetic but he just can't stop. Each attempt at calming down just sends him into another wave of crying. He wants to be embarrassed but his brain isn't really giving him the space to be anything other than devastated. Sev is going to leave him just like everyone else, and it'll be exactly what he deserves. How could he ever blame Sev for finally coming to his senses?

Still, he finds himself overwhelmed with the need to beg. It's a pitiful display. He'd kick his own ass if he could. “Please, don't–” He manages between sobs. Fuck, his chest really does hurt, breaths coming in shaky wakes. “Please,” he repeats. “Stay, please.”

He should say more. Sev deserves more, so much more, and Stevo wishes he could force out more words but his tongue feels like lead in his mouth and his entire body aches with the effort it's taking not to collapse flat on the floor. Sev deserves to know everything. He should know Stevo always thinks about him, dreams about him, sees things in their daily lives and associates them in some way with him. He should know Stevo would face his biggest fears if it kept Sev safe.

There's warmth on the back of his neck and then suddenly he's surrounded by it. Sev's arms wrap tightly around him and Stevo grabs on just as hard and cries some more. Sev's hands are warm and firm on his back and Stevo feels like a child, or like glass, delicate and fragile and one accident away from shattering.

“I'm not saying I'll leave you forever,” Sev whispers. His breath moves the hairs on the top of Stevo's head and Stevo wants nothing more than for Sev to kiss him and tell him everything is okay. “You're still my best friend. I'll still be here for you like that.”

Stevo feels selfish. He should take what Sev is offering before he ruins this completely. Sev would have every right to leave and never look back, never even think about him again. Stevo's never been good at thinking things through though.

“I don't want that.”

He pulls away from the hug even though it pains him, but he needs to look at Sev for this part. He feels around for Sev's left hand, still petting soothingly at his back, and he takes the ring off of his finger. “I don't want to be your friend,” he says, and he can see the way Sev freezes up. He continues before he can lose his confidence, “I want to keep being your partner. Your husband.”

He can't read the look that flashes across Sev's face. It's not anger at least, and that's good enough.

“...What?”

“Let me ask again,” Stevo pleads. He shuffles back and away from Sev and wobbles his way up onto one knee. “I fucked it up the first time but you said yes anyway. So maybe you'll say yes now that I'm not being so fucking stupid.”

“I–” Sev's mouth opens and closes and opens again, and he looks so cute it almost distracts Stevo entirely. When Sev says nothing, Stevo continues.

“I know you only agreed to all this shit because you wanted to help me. I took you for granted and that was stupid of me. You're my best friend and the greatest husband anyone could ever have.” He's shaking, hand holding the ring trembling as he takes a breath and continues, “I want to be the husband you deserve. I know I don't deserve a second chance but I am begging. Please, let me try to be what you deserve.”

Sev is crying too now, thick tears rolling down his face and dripping off of his chin. He seems lost. Stevo starts to panic, hopelessness threatening to send him spiralling again. He holds the ring out towards Sev.

“So will you marry me?” Stevo asks. “Again, I mean. Better this time.”

Sev nods. “Yeah. Yes. Obviously,” he laughs, then tugs Stevo back in again.

Stevo grabs his face and kisses him. He's wanted to do this for so long and never allowed himself to go for it. Sev kisses back just as eagerly. It's clumsy and wet and neither of them can stop laughing long enough to do it properly but it's fine. It's more than fine.

Stevo slips the ring back onto Sev's finger and Sev kisses him again.

“I think we're doing all of this in a pretty backwards way,” Sev jokes.

He's always had nightmares. Or at least he's had them for as long as he can remember, and his memory tends to get pretty patchy the further back he tries to get. He knows he had them pretty bad in high school, and then they seemed to ease up a bit during college. Now they're back again and worse than ever. He gets them every night, or at least on the nights where he doesn't go to bed blackout drunk. Those nights are easier – he never remembers those dreams the morning after.

It's really starting to get to him.

He's waking up in cold sweats more often than not these days. His chest will burn as he breathes in and out in a shaky rhythm, heart racing as if he's in danger. He's safe, he knows he is. He hasn't seen his parents in years and he doesn't plan to. He hasn't seen him in a long time either.

He thinks Stevo might be catching on. Sev's never mentioned his nightmares before, or the various traumas he assumes to be the root of them, but there's no way Stevo hasn't noticed the bags forming under his eyes, even if he's been trying to cover them under his eyeliner.

He should really be used to it. He feels like such a pussy sitting up in bed and being scared to lay down. What's gonna happen to him, anyway? They're just dreams. It's not like it's all happening to him again. It's not like they're gonna see him ever again.

Fuck, he needs a drink. He's so tired. He can feel fatigue tugging at his consciousness, lulling him into a false sense of security, but his stomach is twisting in knots and he really, really doesn't want to close his eyes. Maybe he should go for a run, or dig around in his drawers for some pills to keep him going, or—

Sev wakes up screaming.

He doesn’t even remember falling asleep, but he must have because he's shooting up from his mattress, heart pulsing so hard in his chest he thinks he might be dying, lungs aching with the effort it takes to get air into them. He sobs then, a broken, desperate noise as tears fall down his cheeks. He doesn't even know what the dream was about. His skin feels like it's crawling. There are hands on him.

Light floods the room and he flinches before looking up. Stevo stands in the doorway, silhouetted by the flickering golden glow of their hallway light. He can't quite make out Stevo's features but he can see the mess of his bleach-damaged hair and the baggy shorts he wears to bed. Stevo's smart enough not to ask if he's okay. He watches quietly until Sev is able to speak.

“Sorry,” Sev chokes out. He scrubs the tears from his face with the back of his hand. “Just a nightmare.”

Stevo is quiet for a little longer before replying, “seemed like a bit more than just a nightmare.”

Sev shrugs. “Well that's what it was,” he says defensively. He's not sure why he feels like he needs to fight. He's so used to handling this shit alone it feels weird to have someone else here, even if that person is his best friend.

“Need anything?” Stevo asks.

He wants to say no. He wants to push Stevo away and pretend none of this ever happened. He wants to say he's fine, go back to bed, don't worry. He sniffles and wipes at his face again.

“Can you stay?” Sev asks instead. He feels stupid for it.

“Yeah,” Stevo says after a moment. He walks fully into the room and pushes the door closed as he goes.

Sev feels the bed dip as Stevo climbs onto it and as soon as he feels the warmth next to him, he leans into it. Stevo wraps an arm around him and tugs him in. It's rough, somewhat careless, but it's familiar and safe and Sev immediately feels the tension drain out of him. His eyes feel heavy.

“I've got you,” Stevo promises quietly, squeezing him. The pressure is comforting. “I've got you.”

Falling asleep doesn't feel so scary after that.

— — — — —

They're at Trish's place after a night of drinking and trash talking the world and discussing what the future could be like. Sev and Stevo are both too drunk to drive, and so Trish has them crash in the living room with some spare blankets. Stevo is hunched over on the armchair, skinny body twisted up like a pretzel, while Sev sprawls out on the couch.

He doesn't wake up with a shout this time, but a sob. He puts a hand over his mouth to stifle his cries and tries to remind himself to breathe. In, out, in, out. Another wave of tears comes and he cries harder, throat tight and chest burning. He doesn't wanna wake the others. He doesn't need to burden them with this.

He hears shuffling from the armchair and then Stevo is down on the floor in front of the couch, side pressed against the cushion as he slips a hand into Sev's. Sev cries harder at this, the tender affection from the same man he's seen knock a guy out cold in a fight. His head is spinning.

“Nothin’ gonna get you,” Stevo mumbles, half asleep with his face pressed up against the couch. He squeezes Sev's hand. “I'd kick their ass if anyone tried.”

Sev laughs wetly at this and squeezes Stevo's hand in return. “Thanks, man.”

Stevo hums and says nothing more. His eyes are closed again, Sev can just about make that out in the dark, and his face is smushed where it rests. His thumb strokes back and forth over the back of Sev's hand.

Sev's so glad he has him, even if not in the way he wants. He falls back to sleep slowly and this time the dreams are gentle with him, like the hand in his.

— — — — —

He hates nights like this the most. He doesn't wake up screaming or crying, but silently, suddenly. His heart races like that of a prey animal, a rabbit being hunted, so fast it's hard to count each individual beat. It isn't the crying that hurts him this time, but the deep sinking fear that twists in his stomach and spreads throughout the rest of his body. He knows he's safe. Logically he knows that, of course he does, but the scared prey animal housed beneath his ribcage screams that they are being chased.

He's so fucking scared.

He doesn't even have Stevo. Usually he'll wake with a shout or a cry and that'll alert Stevo to the issue, but tonight he's silent, letting out shuddery breaths as he tries to hold himself together. He should be able to get through this alone. He's done it before and he can do it again. But having Stevo stay with him after a nightmare has become routine, and one that works at that. He sleeps better when Stevo is there.

Fuck. He needs him.

Sev doesn't like that realisation. He's never needed someone before. He learned early enough that needing people just led to being disappointed. How could he let himself forget that? He's stupid, so unbelievably stupid and lovesick and hopeless.

He's standing before he even consciously thinks to.

He feels pathetic, like he's some toddler seeking comfort, like he's four again and latching onto whoever seems like they care. He wraps his blanket around his shoulders and wobbles his way out of his room and to the one next door where he can hear Stevo snoring. He doesn't knock, just walks in, and then stands there awkwardly. He really should've thought this through.

“Stevo?” He calls out nervously. When Stevo doesn't stir, he tries again just a little louder, “hey, Stevo?”

“Mhhff?” Comes the muffled reply from the bed and Stevo just barely raises his head enough to look towards the door. “Wh's wrong?”

“I—” He's so pathetic. He's a grown man, not a fucking child. He should deal with this by himself. He should—

Stevo is sitting up properly now, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and yawning. “Nightmare?”

Sev nods. “Sorry. I just- I don't…” Christ, he really is just a kid if he can't finish a fucking sentence. What is wrong with him? “I'm scared.”

He watches Stevo scoot more to one side of the bed, and then lift the blanket. “Come on then, get comfy.”

“You sure?” Sev asks hesitantly. “I can just– I can go back to my bed, or I– I—”

“Get your ass into this bed before I drag you into it,” Stevo warns.

Yeah, that sounds about right. Sev pads his way over to the bed and curls up in the spot Stevo has made for him. He tries to leave a space between them, not wanting to impose more than he already has, but Stevo reaches out and tugs him in closer before slinging an arm over his waist.

“Sorry for waking you…” Sev whispers.

Stevo grumbles and presses a little closer. “I don't give a shit about that. You're like a space heater anyway.”

Sev laughs, a soft tired sound, and he leans his head against Stevo's chest. He listens to Stevo's breathing even out as he falls back to sleep. He's lucky honestly. Stevo could've easily told him to fuck off, called him a pussy, told him he was being stupid. Instead Stevo welcomes him with open arms and acts as if this is normal.