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Izzy creaked open the door to Steven’s room. He’d thought that Steven’d be awake—Steven was always awake, always moving around, messing with something, watching TV, messing with something. Even though it was about two in the morning and they were just coming off of a pretty big time of none of them getting any sleep, ever, so most of them were just completely conked out and had been since about nine, he’d figured that Steven would be awake.
But he opened the door on Steven in a heap on his mattress, tangled up in blankets and pillows and t-shirts. His face was turned to face Izzy, and Izzy could see—yeah, kid was asleep. The moon shone through, lighting him up enough that Izzy could see that his eyes were clearly closed.
And sleep was a good idea. To be completely honest, Izzy was dead on his feet. He’d just wanted—
As he stood there, Steven stirred. Maybe he’d heard the door open, or maybe he could hear Izzy breathing. Either way, he blinked a couple of times and pushed himself up half an inch. “Iz,” he mumbled. “Izzy.”
“Sorry,” Izzy said. “Thought you were awake.”
“’mwake,” Steven said. He pushed himself up farther, so that he was sitting. He rubbed at his eyes. He was wearing one of the t-shirts he’d cut into something that you could maybe call a tanktop, if you had a really loose definition of tanktop—no sleeves, sure, but the v-neck practically went down to his belly-button. “’mwake, ‘tsup?”
“It’s nothing, I just—” Izzy didn’t want to say the real reason, which was, ‘wanted to see you, because I don’t understand you but I like whatever the hell you’ve got going on, and you’re a fucking enigma and it’s beautiful’, roughly, so he shook his head. “—just lonely, I guess.”
Steven perked up like a golden retriever at that. “C’mere, then,” he said. “I’m not tired, honest.”
“No, I should—”
“Izzy, just get the fuck over here.”
Izzy went.
Steven made room. Izzy sat down beside him on the mattress and Steven wrapped his arms around his chest and rested a head against his shoulder. “Sorry you got stuck with me,” he said.
“Huh?”
“I mean, the other guys are definitely passed the fuck out right now,” Steven said. “Like, they won’t get up for nothing. That’s why you picked my room, right? ‘Cause you figured I’d be awake?”
Jesus fuck this kid.
“I figured you’d be awake,” Izzy said. And maybe it was the night, the sleep-deprivation, the solitude, or the moon, but he said, “you’re pretty much my favorite, anyway, though.”
Steven looked at him like he was totally fucking out of his mind insane.
“I’m serious,” Izzy said. “You’re weird, but—” He didn’t really want to get into specifics, because he was pretty sure that if he started getting into specifics he’d start saying shit that he didn’t want to say, but Steven was looking at him like he was about to say the meaning of life, or something, so he pushed through his own inhibitions and kept going. “—but you’re a good kid.”
Steven grinned, a little. “Like, literally everyone who’s met me would definitely disagree with you on that.”
“I mean, you’re a dumbass,” Izzy said. “And you’re like, way too pussy-driven, to be honest—”
“Oh, come on—”
“—but you’re,” Izzy doesn’t have a word besides, “Nice.”
Steven looked up at him, resting his chin on Izzy’s shoulder. Izzy couldn’t look at him for more than a second or two before he could feel his face start to burn up. This was not the kind of conversation that he was built for. He wasn’t expecting to have this kind of serious conversation with Steven. Steven was something that he, at least when he was relatively sober, like he was now, observed. When they were both high as balls or drunk off their asses, sure, they were all over each other like all of them were all over each other. It was part of the “fuck you old people” thing—they were always feeling each other up. And Steven was a really touchy-feely kind of person, even in private.
See, “Izzy sits down and Steven immediately wraps him up like he’s there just to be hugged.”
“Okay,” Steven said. He laughed a little bit. “You’re weird. D’you wanna stay?”
“Yeah,” Izzy said. He could feel his heart beating in his throat, and his mouth was suddenly very dry.
“I was asleep.”
“I know.”
Steven let go of Izzy so that they could both lie down, and for a second they laid in silence. Steven wasn’t touching him. “You don’t have to—” Izzy started, and then he turned to face Steven. Steven was watching him like a cat. “You don’t have to crush yourself into the wall like that. I’m not gonna—freak out, or anything.”
Steven beamed and Izzy swallowed, because sometimes when Steven smiled it felt like the world was going to explode. “Then c’mere.”
Izzy shifted, a little, and immediately Steven’s foot was hooking one of his legs closer, and Steven’s hand was on his waist, and Steven’s forehead was pressed against his. Steven beamed one more time, and then closed his eyes.
And was asleep in about thirteen seconds.
Izzy watched him for a little bit, and then shifted. He couldn’t sleep on his side. He turned onto his back, and Steven, in his sleep, adjusted accordingly, wriggling as close to Izzy as the laws of the universe would allow.
Every time he shifted, Steven would clutch at him, make sure he didn’t go too far.
That fuckin’ kid.