Lord Huron
••• Ancient Names (Part 1) •••

Time to infect the moon knight fandom

I really hope I wrote Steven's dialogue right LMAO I've never written so obscenely British before sndmfjfj

  "Please still be open, please still be open, please still be open," I anxiously murmured to myself as I quickly stepped off the bus.

  The heavy messenger bag almost dislodged my balance and I stumbled on the concrete of the bus stop to remain upright. With a short, determined huff, I blew the hair from my face and adjusted my bag before swiftly crossing the entrance courtyard of the British Museum in a speed walk that could rival Bolt's.

  It was dark - it was late - and the banners between the columns showcasing the museum's brilliant catalogue of ancient Egyptian and Roman items were illuminated by ochre yellow. There was barely anyone around, aside from a few lingering specimen laughing obscenely loudly, and the darkness beyond the entrance columns put a bad feeling in my chest.

  I padded up the stairs as fast my feet could carry me and entered through the empty doorway. A security guard sat in a booth to the side, watching something on his phone. His unbothered glance my way gave me a little reassurance.

  I pawed at my satchel to pull out my notebook and internally berated myself as I sped across the decorated floor; how could I have left this so late? How could I have been so... ugh, me? The one day that I had set aside to visit the museum for my book and it had completely slipped my mind in favour of procrastinating.

  "You have a poor habit of avoiding social outings," I berated myself in a whisper. My shaking hands passed over pages and pages of notes as I jogged my way to the information centre and tried to catch my breath. "Now look at what you've done?" It was self-sabotage in full.

  I swept past a gift shop that looked to be closed aside from the lone man standing at the counter and scanning boxes of inventory. I met his gaze through the glass walls of the shop and we both looked just as surprised to see each other. He placed the scanner down. I continued hurrying my way down the entrance hall.

  It looked as though the main lights were off and the place was instead only lit by the display lights of artefacts, sending eerie shadows stretching across the lobby. I felt my spirits dolefully sink as I slowed to a defeated amble, taking in the what was definitely closed museum. It was so large and empty, like I was standing at the bottom of the Grand Canyon. Or like I was floating in space, vast and alone.

  "Exc- excuse me!" A man's voice pulled me from my thoughts. I turned to find the gift shop attendant from before poking his head out of his store's entrance and looking at me with a timid expression. "The, uh, the museum's closed."

  "I gathered," I replied with a crushed exhale. My fingers tapped against the cardboard back of my notebook as I dragged my feet back towards the man. "Just my luck."  

  The man's hand nervously slid up the glass door as he meekly stepped out. The closer I got, the more of him I was able to see in the poor lighting; messy, curly hair, equally dark eyes, stubble. He looked like he hadn't seen a good night's sleep in a decade. He looked like an scruffy, kicked puppy.

  No - he was the definition of skrunkly.

  "We, uh, actually closed 'bout an hour ago," he continued. I glanced at my watch - it was seven at night. I was a fool to think that the museum would stay open any longer than that.

  "Ah," I said, feeling like an idiot. I looked down at my pages of quotes and notes that acted as jigsaw pieces to my book's wider picture. "Damn."

  The man before me - Steven, his silver name badge read - peered at my notes. His head tilted, curious, and took half a step closer.

  "Important?"

  "Sorry?" I asked as my eyes jumped back to him.

  "What you came here for," Steven elaborated as he nodded at my notes. "Looks important, yeah?"

  "Oh. Um. Yeah, kinda." I gave a feeble shrug. "I needed to get into the Ancient Egyptian exhibit. Time just got away on me."

  "I know how you feel," Steven said with a sympathetic, awkward smile. "Feels like the world moves on without you, dunnit? Too busy tryna' figure out where you're at to play catch-up."

  I gave him and his navy jacket, patterned button-up and dark slacks a once over. Despite his ruffled, haphazard appearance, that was a weirdly precise thing to say to a stranger. Then again, he worked in the British Museum. 'Precise' was probably an employee requirement, no matter if they're handling exhibits or sweeping the steps.

  "Something like that," I agreed. I pulled myself back into reality with an inhale through my nose. "Right, well, I'll get out of your hair, then."

  "Oh," Steven said. He nodded. "Yeah, 'course."

  I gave him a smile in parting before continuing towards the exit. Pulling the flap of my bag open, I shuffled my notebook back in with the rest of the miscellaneous objects it was carrying. What a disappointment.

  "Wait-! Just a tick," Steven called. His voice sounded louder than probably intended, enforced by the empty, marble hallway. He lifted a hand to his chin, as if going to place it over his mouth, before dropping it again when I stopped in my tracks and turned back. His hands began to fiddle in front of his stomach instead. "I can... probably show you around for a bit. I mean, you're here already, yeah?"

  I stared at him. "But... it's closed?"

  Steven's face fell a tad. "I- well, yeah, but I'm gonna be here for the next couple'a hours, anyway..."

  It was tempting, if a bit risky - but god, what an offer! A chance to peruse the exhibits without the distraction of foot traffic and loud conversations, a chance to view these priceless, ageless artefacts - to have access to the British Museum on my own. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. But caution was necessary; could I get taken in for trespassing after hours, and should I trust this man to be alone with me in the first place?

  I tilted my head at Steven as he hovered before me, awaiting my reply with a gaze unable to hold mine. He was mild-mannered and timid from what I had noticed so far, but he also seemed to have a sharp mind on his shoulders, like his brilliance was subdued by awkward words and inept confidence.

  However, he was genuine, and maybe I was putting the cart before the horse, but I couldn't seem to pick up any red flags. Besides, my book needed this. I needed this. 

  "I-"

  "Aye, you lot." The languid voice of another man cut me off and made me flinch in surprise as I turned. It was the guard from the booth before, squinting between Steven and I with a look of weary contempt. "Whaddya still doin' inside?"

  My heart skipped as the guard drew closer. The risk outdid the temptation, it seemed. Panic reared its ugly head as I tried to find the words to explain my prolonged presence until I heard the footsteps of the gift-shopist approach my side.

  "I'm just gonna take 'em around the Egyptian exhibit for a spell, yeah, mate?" Steven spoke up. I looked up at him in surprise.

  "What?" the guard said in disbelief. "Bruv, you mental? We're closed. You're not even a tour guide."

  "I don't have to- It'll just be for twenty minutes. Half an hour, tops," Steven insisted. He glanced at me. "That'll give you enough time, yeah?"

  Well, no, not really - but come on, a private ponder about the museum? And if Steven didn't have any qualms, then surely all was well. I wasn't about to let this opportunity slide.

  "... sure," I replied.

"Brilliant!" Steven beamed. There was even a glint of excitement in his dark eyes, as if the mere idea of tagging along with me to the Egyptian exhibit was enough to wake him up. He gestured down the hall with a nod. "Let's head off then, yeah?"

  "Oh- yeah-" I glanced between the eager shop attendant and the weary guard unsurely. When the guard made no move to stop me, I began to scamper after Steven. "Okay."

  "Donna ain't gonna like this, Scotty," the guard warned.

  "Donna ain't gonna know, is she?" Steven replied as he turned over his shoulder. "And it's Steven." He looked back at me. "It's Steven. With- with a V."

  "Nice to meet you, Steven," I said with a smile. "I'm Y/n."

  Steven repeated my name, testing the sound of it coming from his lips, the weight of it on his tongue. His soft voice floated between us in this empty, massive entrance chamber.

  "Do you usually give people private tours after closing?" I asked. Steven gave a meek chuckle.

  "Oh, no- no, not really," he stammered as he looked ahead, leading our way. "Just felt bad for you, I suppose. You looked pretty bummed."

  "Ah," I said. My eyes lingered on the passing exhibits. Pieces of ancient texts and linen and carvings stared back at me from their illuminated cases. "Thank you. I'm gonna be flat out for the next three weeks, so today really was my only option." I shook my head in disbelief. "I can't believe I procrastinated this much. You're a lifesaver, truly."

  "It's not a problem" Steven reassured. We breached the Egyptian exhibit and he smiled at the realm of artefacts. "I love these old guys, really. Fascinating people they were. Ingenious, too - they were the first to create a three-hundred and sixty-five day year based on when the Nile would flood." Steven gave me an excited look. "They managed to predict exactly when to harvest their crops without losing them to the flooding. We still use their twelve-month system today; wild, innit?"

  "Oh, and here-" Steven directed me to a glass case of small, ceramic ornaments and tapped at a sculpture of a man plowing with the help of two ox. "They were the first people to create the plow and use animal assistance to farm crops. Blimey-well blows your mind, don't it?"

  "Wow." I peered closer at the ancient sculpture, at the jagged edges and the flaking corners. It was so primal and unrefined, boasting its age and story. It had lived hundreds of my lifetimes and it would most likely live hundreds more. "It's beautiful."

  "Yeah..." Steven trailed off as he stared at the ceramic sculpture with the gaze not unlike a lover. He blinked and turned to me with a perplexed expression on his face. "Sorry, you were after something specific, weren't you? What's it you're researching for?"

  I glanced down at my neglected notes and gave an embarrassed smile.

  "I'm a novelist," I replied. "I'm writing a book."

  "A book?" Steven echoed with intrigue. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "What kind?"

  "Fantasy," I answered with a one-shouldered shrug. "Little bit of mythology. Some action, romance. All the ingredients to make the Power Puff Girls of the YA genre."

  "I'm more a history guy myself," he said in jest. I gave a breath of a laugh, because of course he was - look at where he worked, look at how passionately he spoke of the exhibits - and his shoulders proudly squared. "Have you released somethin'?"

  "No," I said with a small smile. I held my notebook to my chest and dropped my chin atop the cardboard edge. "It's just been rejection after rejection. But that's the game, isn't it? Keep firing until it hits."

  Steven's lips curled into a weak grin. "I understand that one. Been tryin' t'a land a position here as a tour guide for years."

  My eyes flickered back to the small ceramics. I was tempted to read their little informational blurbs, or ask Steven about his private knowledge of this collection, but I was aware that time was running out.

  "Well, I'm after a sarcophagus, tour guide Steven," I said. "Can you show me one?"

  He blinked at the insinuation before breaking into a brilliant, giddy beam. "I'll show you my favourite."

  Steven lead the way towards the Death and Afterlife section, passing by mummies and coffin goods on display. I wished I had the time to wander and admire it all, but Steven had set a fast pace and we were on a timer. Our footsteps were the only sound, bouncing through the darkness of the museum and licking against the soft light of the displays.

  "This here," Steven began dramatically, "is the coffin of Hornedjitef."

  We had stopped at a display of an upright sarcophagus that proudly gleamed under its display light. The eyes stared straight ahead, looking out above me, and a small, genial smile was carved into the golden-painted wood. Below its collar was the rendering of a scarab beetle, and spanning the rest of the coffin were long lines of hieroglyphs.

  A slow breath left my lips. A shiver ran down my spine. It was ancient but almost perfectly preserved, emitting such raw, undying power that carried unyielding for centuries. Steven glanced between the coffin and I with a look as though he were on the edge of his seat. He was, quite positively, bursting at the seams. I threw him a bone.

  "Can you tell me about Hornedjitef?" I asked.

  "Yes! Yeah, 'course!" Steven's chipper reply was instantaneous. He pointed his finger against the glass. "You see these long lines of hieroglyphs? Those are funeral rites. Spells, from the Book of the Dead, to help our pal here to navigate the afterlife - and either side of the texts are depictions of deities; the four Sons of Horus and the goddesses Isis and Nephthys."

  "The big face, here," Steven said as he tapped at the golden visage of the coffin, "this is a depiction of Hornedjitef - not as he died, he was an old bugger when he conked it - but as his desired self; a god in the afterlife."

  "He looks kind," I said with a look the shop attendant's way. Steven faltered. He glanced at me and then back at the face.

  "Yeah... yeah, he does, don't he?" he murmured.

  My smile grew in warmth at Steven before I turned my attention back to the sarcophagus entombed by glass before us. A rush of appreciation and awe swept through me again and I tried my best to hold onto these emotions and the way they felt as I pulled out my book to quickly scrawl down notes. Steven tucked his hands behind his back, watching.

  "You probably could've just googled the answers to your questions, yanno," he murmured with a crease of his brow. I felt his stare shift to the side of my face. "Why'd you bother comin' all the way out here?"

  My fingers gripped the notebook tighter. It was silly, really, in hindsight; but I couldn't help but understand so significantly the exact reason as to why I felt the need to see the Ancient Egyptian artefacts in person.

  "It's not the answers I'm looking for," I explained with an embarrassed smile. "It's the feeling."

  Steven frowned. "The feeling?"

  "Yeah. They're special," I replied. "Ancient relics - they just have such energy to them. Life. Everything about them tells stories from thousands of years ago." I sighed as I gazed at Hornedjitef's face. "They're so powerful to feel, to see, in person. You can't invoke that feeling from a photo online."

  I could feel Steven's gaze lingering on the side of my face as I stared at the artefact before me. The weight of it finally pulled me from my stupor, and while I took in his curious expression, I felt myself grow warm. God, he must've thought I was an absolute loon.

  "I can see why you're a writer," he said.

  "Sorry," I sheepishly apologised as I turned fully to him. The light of the exhibit flooded warm and yellow against his right side, painting him in abstract patches of illumination. "I tend to ramble."

  "No! God, no," Steven leapt to elaborate. His hands waved in front of him, enunciating each frantic word that slipped from his mouth. "If anyone were to ramble here, it'd be me, you know? I am just a- a tap of words, especially about these big guys-" he rapped against the glass case with the backs of his fingers and a breathless, nervous chuckle. "Honestly, Donna - my boss - she hates it when I talk. Says I don't know when to shut up."

  I tilted my head to the side and regarded him fully, properly, as he meekly shoved his hands back into the pockets of his jacket. He looked anxious, like he was trying to simultaneously hide himself but was chomping at the bit all the while. He was like a bubble of energy just waiting to pop and explode and blabber. His social decency was all that held him back.

  "Well," I said. A blossoming warmth began to take hold in my chest and the skin of my back was beginning to tingle - camaraderie was the name of what I was feeling. "It seems we have that in common, don't we?"

  Steven's dark eyes shot to my face and held an expression of disbelief. He swallowed, blinked and gave a small sound of agreement from barely parted lips.

  I spent the next ten minutes sat on a nearby bench and scrawling down notes while Steven wandered the exhibition room, stopping by occasionally to mention a fact that popped into his head. We existed in calm company.

  It was a weird sort of intimacy - being alone in a museum together. Sat surrounded by ancient artefacts created by hands thousands of years ago, and us, who just so happened to have been born in the same generation. There was such a vivid gap between Steven and I to the Ancient Egyptians but, as I looked around at the displays, I could see the similarities between modern day humans and them. What is humanity without belief, religious or not? What is humanity without creation?

  I glanced between display cases, finding Steven with his hands on his knees as he peered at a piece of decorated temple wall. He was staring at the artefact with such intensity that it seemed as though the only thing that existed was him and these relics. I could understand why he revered them so. I couldn't  understand why he wasn't a tour guide.

  A new set of footsteps echoing in the large room made the both of us peek to the entrance. The guard from before arrived with a grumpy frown on his face.

  "Alright," he said, nodding at me. "Your time's up. Get outta here."

  I nodded at the guard and quickly gathered my things. He turned to Steven, who had wandered over.

  "Walk her out, Scotty," he said tiredly. "And don't let anyone else in, yeah? I'm not gonna let you do this again."

  "'Course, mate, cheers," Steven called after the guard, who'd gone to leave before he got an answer. "And- and it's Steven." He sighed in defeat. 

  Steven approached as I swung my bag back over my shoulder and adjusted my coat. His hands were back in his pockets.

  "Did you get everything you need?" Steven asked. I nodded. "Ah, good, good."

  We began towards the exit and I found myself feeling disappointed that our little after-hours excursion was so short. But, ah, still - what an excursion it was. I didn't even have to put in my headphones and play music too loud to drown out the noise of a crowd.

  "Thank you, again," I said. "You're amazing for doing this."

  "Oh, don't worry about it," Steven reassured. "I don't get to talk a lot about these guys, so really, it's you doin' me a favour."

  "You were an exceptional tour guide," I complimented. "The museum's missing out. I learnt more in twenty minutes with you than what I would myself in two hours."

  Steven gave a small, sheepish chuckle. "Cheers, Y/n. That means a lot."

  We stopped at the exit to the museum. I looked out over the darkened, empty courtyard and sighed through my nose. I glanced back at Steven.

  "Can I buy you dinner?" I asked. Steven's brows piqued in surprise. "As- as a thank you for letting me in here."

  His face brightened and it looked as though he was going to eagerly accept. But then his expression reeled itself back into a look of genuine disappointment.

  "I would love to, honest, I really would," Steven began apologetically. He pointed a thumb back towards the gift shop. "But if I don't get this inventory done then my boss might actually murder me."

  "No stress," I smiled, though still felt disheartened. It would've been nice to spend longer with him. "Maybe another time."

  "Yeah." Steven nodded with growing confidence. "Yeah, I'd like that."

  "Scotty!" The guard yelled from down the hall. "Get 'er out!"

  "I'm sorry," Steven said as we began to part ways. "I hope you get your book published."

  "I hope so, too," I replied with a smile. I gave a wave with my notebook. "Thank you, Steven."  

  With a light feeling in my chest, I pawed through the notes I had taken as I crossed the courtyard. I glanced back over my shoulder and, through the shadows, I could just spot Steven's figure retreating into the museum.

  I smiled. What a sweet guy.

🌑🌘🌗🌖🌕🌔🌓🌒🌑

••• three months later •••

  I stepped out of the bus with an exuberant bounce and a smile as I made my way across the street towards the museum.

  I had just, finally, landed a book deal and, after squealing about it with my friends and family, I made the decision to stop by the museum to let Steven know the good news - and to thank him again. His help was instrumental to my motivation.

  It was a rare sunny day in London's winter but the chill was still zealously gnawing me to the bone. I hurried along the courtyard towards the museum's entrance, bypassing families and groups of friends. It was almost time for snow; I could taste it in the air.

  I had managed to sneak in another visit to the museum a few weeks ago through my schedule (this time during open hours), but I couldn't spot Steven working in the gift shop back then - hopefully this time would be different. It would be nice to catch up again. Maybe make good on that dinner deal, maybe get his phone number - who knows?

  Perhaps I had developed a tiny, just a minuscule; an inkling of a crush on that singular time I had met Steven. And maybe, whenever my mind was wandering, it would lead me back to that quiet evening in the museum together. 

  Maybe I'd get lucky - maybe Steven was working and he'd accept my proposal for a celebratory/thank-you-for-letting-me-roam-after-hours dinner. Maybe then I could see if I should act on this little attraction I had to the dark-haired, dark-eyed Egyptologist nerd. If I had the courage to, that is.

  I shimmied past a group of young school kids and slipped through the glass entranceway to the gift shop. My excitement was rising, the school-girl crush had my heart palpitating at the very thought of seeing him again. My eyes swept the store's patrons but it was packed - every dark haired male had my hopes raising and then crushed.

  I squeezed my way past an aisle display of Egyptian deity themed soft toys and aimed for the counter, where a blonde woman was pawing through a box of key rings.

  "Excuse me," I began. The lady looked up with a mild expression. "Is Steven working today?"

  "Stevie?" the blonde woman echoed with disdain. She pulled out an Anubis keychain and scanned it. "Nah, that plonker got fired weeks ago."  

  My heart sunk. "Fired?" I said in disbelief.

  "Yes, fired," she said shortly. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

  "... no," I responded after she gave me a look that said she didn't respect my prolonged, stunned silence. "Thank you, anyway."

  She gave a nod and returned to sorting through the key rings. I was left to numbly turn on my feet and dishearteningly trudge my way back out the shop. The bright, buzzy feeling from before had completely vanished; I didn't have any way of contacting Steven. Was this fate scolding me for procrastinating so much on that day?

  An onset of guilt careened through me; was he fired because he let me in? That must've been it. God, I couldn't believe I got him fired - and all because I was running late from my own misgivings. I was the absolute worst.

  I stopped at the entrance to the museum and stared down at the courtyard with blurry eyesight. Clouds gathered overhead. The rare sunny day was lost. 

  Steven had helped me so much, much more than he thought, and his repayment for a good deed was losing his job. I couldn't even begin to think about how to find him again. In London? Frankly impossible, and I doubted the British Museum gave out contact details of their past employees.

  I wouldn't even be able to thank him and tell him that letting me in had all but shifted the trajectory of my entire career. This sucked.

  My eyes caught movement out the side of my vision. I looked up to find the guard from that night returning to his position in the security booth and pull out his phone. My heart leapt. A chance! An opportunity! Maybe he knew what happened to Steven and if I could find him again!

  "Hey! Hey." I jogged up to the booth. The guard glanced up from his phone and, after taking a few beats to recognise me, sighed.

  "Oh," he said uninterestedly. "It's you."

  "Yeah," I said. "It's me." I planted my hands on the edge of the table and caught my breath. "Did- did Steven get fired because of me?"

  "What?" the guard blinked and tucked his phone away. "It wasn't you. Bloke was messed up in the head, weren't he?" I frowned at his words, but he continued, leaning over the booth and lowering his voice. "He vandalised the loos real bad. Man's right mental."

  "'Vandalised?'" I repeated in disbelief, matching his quietness. "Steven? But he's so... timid."

  "That's what I thought, too," the guard shrugged as he leant back. "Gave us all a real shock when we saw the state of it. Must've gone to it with a sledgehammer, or somethin'."

  A sledgehammer? A bad feeling was beginning to sink in my stomach. It sounded completely different than the enthusiastic, scruffy puppy of a man I had met all those months ago. Then again, time warped perceptions, and I only really spent half an hour with him at all.

  I came to term with the idea that I was attracted to what I thought Steven was like and began shuffling through my disappointment. A sledgehammer... what would compel such a soft-spoken guy like him to cause damage like that?

  I gave my thanks to the guard and departed the museum, mood absolutely and thoroughly crushed. I had wanted to go for a spiel around the exhibits again, but the want was torn to shreds. Now I just wanted pity coffee and pity brownies while I waited for my pitiful bus to pitifully pick me up.

  Pulling my coat tighter around me, I traversed the icy sidewalk and bustling city crowd with a frown. I couldn't believe the turn of events. I felt teased, like I was getting the taste of something really good, only to never experience it again. It was cruel.

  The clouds above me had quickly darkened, thickening with a threat to storm. Rain was already beginning to fall, growing from spit to rainfall. My shoes glistened with collected raindrops.

  Breaths of warm air puffed in small clouds before me while I followed the sea of winter jackets. It was loud, as London City always was, with busses and cabs and tourists and joggers. It was so alive and bustling; I had no idea how I spotted him.

  But spotted him I did; the unruly, curly hair, brushed through at the front with sparse silvers. The honey tanned skin, still holding bags under the eyes. The five o'clock shadow, the knot between his brow, the slouch of his shoulders. Mr. Skrunkly.

  "Steven?" I said in shock. I had just accepted the inevitably of never seeing him again and then I immediately found him walking the streets of London. The surprise of it gave me solid whiplash; what were the chances?

  Steven's dark eyes peeked up at his name, glancing across the crowd of faces before spotting my bewildered self. He stopped in his tracks and made someone behind him spit a curse as they bumped into him. He quickly stammered through an apology before finding me again, equally taken aback.

  We managed to shuffle our way to the alcove of a closed building's entrance, sheltered from both the rain and the crowd. I was still surprised by the suddenness of his arrival after being devastated by his departure from the museum that I was left floundering for words.

  "Hello," Steven greeted with an awkward smile. "Y/n, right? Long time no see, innit?"

  "Uh- yeah! Yeah. I actually just came from-" I hesitated as I recalled the guard telling me about the vandalised loos and decided to avoid bringing up the museum as a whole. I shifted on my feet. The entrance's overhang dribbled from the rain. "My book's getting published."

  Steven's eyes widened. "Whoa! That's brilliant, Y/n! You must be chuffed!"

  A smile pulled at my lips. His energy was just as infectious as it was when we first met and his genuine excitement warmed my heart and reignited my pride. The giddy feeling was back in full throe.

  "Yeah! I'm- I'm still in shock, I think," I giggled. "I'm so glad I caught you, though. I wanted to thank you again."

  Steven gave an embarrassed simper as he sunk into his collar. "Oh, you really don't have to."

  "But I do!" I brightly insisted. "You helped motivate me for that last push before my deadline, and the sarcophagus scene - everyone who's read the book so far, it's their favourite! So thank you, Steven."

  The man's cheeks had gone slightly red under my praise and his dark eyes found the concrete floor. Did I come on too strong for someone that's still barely an acquaintance? I must've, as he'd gone silent and was staring at a puddle.

  "Um-" I grappled for a semblance of a normal conversation. The quiet was getting to me; where was that blabber mouth from before that wanted to fill my ears with facts? I missed his ease in carrying a conversation. Maybe he had someplace to be? I turned towards the rainy street. "That's all I wanted to say, so I won't keep you, then. I'll be off."

  "Wait!" Steven leapt. I faltered and swung back around to him, one step out in the rain. Steven rubbed at the back of his neck with a tense, hopeful look. "I- are you still up for catching dinner together?"

  My brain died. I stared at him in shock as his request settled in the valleys of my eardrums and clicked over in my rebooted head. I couldn't believe what I was hearing - I so thought that he didn't want to keep having a conversation.

  "You want... to have dinner with me?" I asked, needing extra clarification for there to be no way that I was mistaken. Steven slowly, hesitantly nodded. "Ye- yeah, yeah. That sounds great."

  "Yeah?" Steven echoed in relief. I nodded and warmth brightened his features. "That's- great! Yeah! When are you free?"

  I glanced at my phone's time. It was late enough, right? It's not as if I had any plans other than order take-out and watch a movie.

  He vandalised property. With a sledgehammer.

  I glanced back up at scruffy-haired Steven. His smile was genuine, warm, and so, so hopeful. The logical side of me urging to say no was quickly swept away by the innocent gleam in his dark eyes, a total K.O. I was helpless. I was painting the red flag green.

  "I'm free now?" I suggested. The rain poured harder. Steven's expression grew even more excited at my response and I couldn't find myself regretting my decision.

  "I know a great place," he said, and offered his arm like a perfect gentleman. My heart did a little stumble before linking my arm through his and letting him lead the way back into the flow of foot traffic. His dark hair began to get sprinkled by little spots of water. I found myself admiring the way it looked like stars.

  And then the disbelief hit me. How long had it been since I'd had dinner with someone I was interested in? Two years? Ever since the blip? The conversation while sheltering from the rain had been so quick that my brain was still catching up to it. Was I just asked out? Did Steven just ask me out?

  Sledgehammer, Y/n.

  But look at him! It just didn't make sense.

  The place Steven was talking about was a sweet little Spanish restaurant not far away, decorated in swaths of reds and oranges and white pillars and painted vases that I admired while shaking water from my coat. Steven stumbled over his words as he requested seating for two with wide eyes - maybe he was in disbelief, too. It was pretty impromptu.

  We were lead to a table near the back of the establishment, spaced equally out from the other patrons. Steven pulled the chair out for me with a little bit of a charming fumble and a panicked grin. I took my seat with a smile.

  Steven sat down at his side with an exhale and a pat of the table. He was jittery, fidgety, searching for words; and it was the same with me. I was out of practise. He looked absolutely lost.

  "Pretty- pretty nice place, yeah?" Steven bravely broke the awkward silence. Our eyes took laps around the room, avoiding one another. "Been here once before. Work do."

  The same work that fired you? SLEDGEHAMMER??!!

  It was driving me nuts. I had to ask.

  "I tried to find you at the museum today," I said slowly. Steven's tense smile began to fade at the corners. "The guard said you vandalised the loos."

  "Oh, he did, did he?" Steven said awkwardly. His fingers tapped against the wood of the table. "Yeah, uh... that wasn't me. It was someone else."

  My brows raised. "You were framed?"

  "That's right!" Steven leant forward enthusiastically. A solemn look slowly crossed his face. "But, you know, it was for the greater good, really, wasn't it? I'd never get a promotion to tour guide there. I was just stuck in limbo."

  "You weren't charged?" I asked incredulously.

  "No..." Steven hummed. "They didn't have enough evidence against me, I think." His eyes jumped to me. "Because- because it wasn't... me."

  "That's crazy," I murmured. "It must've been scary."

  "A little bit, yeah," he said quietly. Steven picked up the menu and sent me a restless smile. "But it doesn't matter. I- I took quite a fancy to the paella last time I was here."

  "I'll keep that in mind," I responded warmly as I lifted my own printed card of options.

  While ordering and receiving our dinner, I noticed that Steven had a habit of... mentally drifting off. Mid-conversation, or even mid-sentence, he would go quiet and stare at one point on his wine glass with a furrowed brow and intense concentration. I didn't blame him for it; I was an author, after all. My brain, too, would wander off while I lost myself into scenes or scenarios. But it was frequent. More than frequent, even.

  As I ate my tortilla dinner, I wondered what was going on in that smart brain of his. Was he drifting off to the Egyptian exhibit? Was he visiting his old friend Hornedjitef? I wanted to ask but I couldn't bring myself to intrude. The contents of someone's mind palace was sacred and we were still only barely acquaintances.

  "What's your plan now?" Steven asked as he pulled himself back from his head. He gave me a soft smile like he hadn't been staring solidly at his reflection on the glass for the past thirty seconds with a scrutinising look. I resisted the urge to succumb to my curiosity.

  "Write the sequel," I answered. "They signed me on for a trilogy, so I have to refine where I want my story to go. Make sure it all makes sense and stuff."

  "That's amazing," Steven gushed. "Imagine if it gets made into a film!"

  I chuckled. "Don't get too ahead of yourself. I don't even know if the first book will sell well."

  "What?" he said, baffled. "Y/n, you have put a mountain of effort into your work." Steven reached out to clasp his hand over mine. The warmth of him was unexpected but welcomed. "I saw how much love you have for your craft back in the museum. People get that, yeah? It'll sell well - it'll sell great."

  I stared at his face as his words sunk in. Steven had spoken with such conviction and with such genuinity that I had no other choice than to trust him fully. A warm feeling began to take root in my stomach. I could feel my heart kick up a beat just a little bit faster than usual.

  Then our gazes dropped to his grasp over mine. Steven recoiled his hand as if burnt, cheeks hot.
 
  "Oh, bollocks, sorry-"

  "Thank you, Steven," I said with appreciation before he could fall into a fluster over holding my hand. "I think I needed to hear that."

  Steven paused in his blunder and set a shocked look on me. His mouth parted to speak, then closed, then parted again.

  "Really?" he asked. I nodded. "I'm... stoked to have said it, then."

  Steven returned to his paella with a hint of a pleased, giddy smile. I watched him for a beat, realised with a start that I found him wickedly endearing, and thanked my lucky stars that I had spotted him on the street.

  "What about you?" I questioned. "Have you found a new job?"

  "Not yet," he confessed as he scooped his spoon through his paella. "I did take a lovely trip to Cairo, though."

  "Really? What was it like?" I asked. Steven was staring at the glass with a frown again. "Steven..?"

  "What?" He looked at me with wide eyes. "Sorry?"

  "What was Cairo like?" I repeated. He brightened.

  "Oh, it was- it was brilliant, absolutely brilliant," Steven said eagerly. "Seeing the pyramids in person, oh my days! I will never forget it, never."

  I couldn't help but replicate his excitement. "Yeah?"

  "Yeah," Steven sighed with a dreamy shake of his head. "Oh, gosh, so much history there. It's like walking on sacred ground, innit? Well - I 'spose you are, at the tombs and pyramids, n' such, but you get what I mean."

  I giggled. "Yeah, I get you."
 
  Steven chuckled, too, and it was like that sense of camaraderie from back in the museum had returned. That fidgety nervousness was long gone. I revelled in the comfort I had around Steven.

  The curly-haired man sent me a beam over our empty dinner plates.

  "Would you like to order desert?" he asked.
 

🌑🌘🌗🌖🌕🌔🌓🌒🌑

  After finishing and paying (I insisted on shouting dinner, despite Steven's dismay), we began the trek back to the bus stop outside the museum.

  The rain from before had lessened to a drizzle but the winter chill was just as ferocious. My coat brushed shoulders with Steven's as we navigated our way through the city's foot traffic and peered through the fog of warm breath. The bus stop was a welcome buffer to the cold breeze.

  We stood in companionable quiet as we waited for the bus to arrive. There was only one other person waiting in the bus stop with us, sat in the opposite corner with headphones on. My gaze roved over the bulletin board that was overcrowded with post-blip therapy groups and such.

  "You ever been to one of those?" I asked Steven. He peeked around me and found the posters.

  "Oh, no, no." He shook his head. "I think I just tried to get back to normal as fast as I could. What about you?"

  "I went to a couple of sessions," I admitted. I pushed my chin into my jacket's neckline. "But, uh... I think I was like you. Just wanted normalcy as fast as I could. Pretty difficult to find normal after disappearing for five years, though."

  "Were you..." Steven trailed off. I caught his gaze and he looked down at me with a trouble frown. "Did you get... blipped?"

  "Yeah," I replied with a strained smile. "What about you?"

  "Yeah, me, too," Steven said quietly. "... weird, weren't it? Waking up and realising that five years had just - zipped. Taken. The world's moved on without you." He laughed poorly. "I had to move into my mum's flat."

  "Tell me about it," I murmured. "I came back and found out that my boyfriend at the time was married. Had a kid, even."

  "Oh, god." He gave me a sympathetic frown. "I'm so sorry to hear that."

  I shrugged. "Ah, you move on. You have to, y'know? Or else you may as well still be blipped." I smiled bittersweetly. "It's her fourth birthday next month. They made me the retrospective godmother."

  Steven pulled a face. "Crikey, really?"

  I laughed at his bewildered expression. "I know- I know. It was very awkward to begin with. But you get used to these things and you move on. Besides, she's a little sweetheart."

  "Still..." Steven mumbled. "That's a pretty difficult thing to find out, innit?"

  "Yeah," I sighed. "Yeah, it... it really was."

  Steven pulled his jacket tighter around himself as a solemn silence took us. The bus pulled up and we stepped on board to take a seat. The warmth was a welcomed relief.

  "Y'know what I did when I got back after being blipped?" Steven began as he settled into his seat beside me.

  "What'd you do?" I asked.

  "Got a fish," Steven answered. His face brightened when I laughed. "Yeah, Gus. My little one-finned wonder. Love him to bits."

  "I have a cat," I provided. Steven raised his brows in interest. "Jester. He's my writing buddy."

  "The ancient Egyptians used to believe that Gods used the bodies of cats as vessels," Steven eagerly informed. "They were thought to bring good luck."

  "Huh," I said. "I think Jester just steals my side of the bed. Might be because I don't give him proper writing credit, though."

  Steven giggled. "Might be that, yeah."

  I fiddled with my coat's zipper, stealing glances at the side of Steven's face while he watched the streets of London roll past from the window. An amused smile lingered on his lips and, despite the heavy bags under his eyes, there was a bright gleam in the dark colours of them.

  He was... god, he was so cute. FUCK.

  "Steven?" I asked, wanting to pursue this while I still had the confidence. He turned to me with a hum. "Can I have your number?"

  Steven's face dropped in surprise. "My- my number?" He then began fumbling for his jacket pocket, nearly throwing himself off of the seat in the process. "Of- of course, yeah. Here you are."

  I took Steven's phone and messed up my number three times. When I finally managed to calm myself and set up my contact properly, I sent myself a text and handed it back. Steven grabbed it with automatic, robotic movements, still holding an expression of absolute shock.

  He only snapped out of it when the bus pulled up at the next stop. Steven quickly stood with a curse.

  "It's my stop, it's my stop," he mumbled in a panic as he gathered his things. "Uh- sorry, I have to- I'll text you, yeah?" He was rushing out of the bus before I could even get a word in.

  Steven made it to freedom with a sigh of disappointment and turned back to spot me through the window. He faltered, however, when he saw me stepping off the bus with a bemused smile.

  "Crazy," I said. "This is my stop, too."

  Steven blinked. The bus pulled back into the traffic with a rattle of its engine and a puff from its exhaust. "... that's mental."

  "A little," I agreed in amusement. I pointed down the street to my left. "Well, I'm heading this way."

  "I'm this way." Steven pointed in the opposite direction. He wrung his hands and looked around the bus stop. "Um. I should... I'll catch you later, yeah?"

  "Alright." I began stepping backwards to take my leave. I lifted my phone. "I'll text you."

  Steven nodded. "Y- yeah, alright. 'Kay."

  "Bye, Steven."

  "Bye, Y/n."

  I stepped around to face the way I was heading and shuffled half of my face under my jacket to keep warm. I made it halfway down the street before I heard Steven call my name, half-jogging to catch up. We stopped in the light of a street lamp.

  "Was-" Steven caught his breath with a confused expression as he stopped before me. A taxi rattled past with a small splash of a puddle. "Was this a date?"

  It was my turn to be stunned to silence. "I... I don't know. Do you want it to be?"

  Steven sucked in a breath as he stared at me with wide, unconfident eyes. He finally gave a slow nod.

  "Uh... well... kinda, yeah," he confessed. I struggled to keep myself from breaking into a relieved beam and cleared my throat. The feeling within me was not unlike adrenaline - I felt the need to go for a sprint as my heart raced.

  "Then, yeah, I think we can call this a date." I nodded.

  "Was it a good one?" he asked unsurely.

  Oh, he looked so nervous and unconfident as he shifted his weight while waiting for my answer. I couldn't help but gather his hands in mine and lift myself to peck his cheek.

  His skin was cold and damp from the drizzling rain but the feeling of his slight stubble left a fire on my lips. That fire spread, turning my entire face warm. Steven had his own fire going on, too, judging by how red his face had gone.

  "It was a great one," I reassured with a soft smile. "I really enjoyed spending time with you again."

  "Me, too," Steven breathed before fumbling to correct himself. "I- I mean- with you. With you. Spending time with you." 

  I giggled and his face darkened in colour. I glanced up at the cloudy night sky; it was beginning to pour again and if we didn't get going, we were each going to catch sick. A singular break in the clouds revealed the moon - perfectly crescent.

  "I really should get going," I said and reluctantly slipped my hands from Steven's. "We should do this again."

  "Yes, yeah, definitely." He nodded. A brief hesitation had him taking a half-step forward. "About- about your goddaughter's birthday... if you don't want to go alone - not to presume anything or if I'm even allowed-"

  "I'd love for you to come with me."

  Steven stopped himself short and slowly nodded. "Cool. Cool, yeah. Wicked."

  I exhaled a short laugh at his disorientation. He had to be, without a doubt, the cutest man I had ever met. I wanted to kiss his cheek again. The building rain was the only thing stopping me.

  I shoved my hands into my pockets and gave him a farewell smile as I began heading my way home - properly, this time.

  "See ya, Steven," I said.

  "Yeah," he murmured, still dazed and starry-haired and haloed in gold by the street light. "Bye-bye, Y/n."