Chapter Text
Steven was in bed.
This shouldn’t be alarming. Despite his numerous blackouts in London, he always managed to find his way back to the flat. Nothing was wrong about this revelation except for one thing: his ankle restraint wasn’t on
It wasn’t on.
“Oh bollocks,” Steven murmured, leaning forward. He found it resting at his feet, clearly not fastened around his ankle and definitely not holding him down in place.
Which was…well, wrong.
Despite how tired he found himself on most nights, he never forgot. He couldn’t risk stumbling around at night, home or otherwise. Who knows what could happen? Steven wasn’t a child anymore; he couldn’t rely on his mum barging into his room forever.
And so, once he was living on his own, Steven made the best purchase of his life. His sleepwalking greatly reduced before disappearing completely.
Well, he thought so at least.
“Why?” Steven murmured, his hands pressed to his face. He nervously laughed. “Why me?”
The flat must be an absolute disaster. Or worse, his neighbor’s. He might’ve damaged city property for all he knew. Steven sure hoped not, but it’s been years since he’s been in this position. Who knows what he was capable of now? Certainly not Steven.
Then suddenly, a memory came to him that wasn’t a work of the imagination at all.
The museum.
That man.
He was undeniably real. Steven wished it wasn’t true — it would make things far less complicated than it already was — but he couldn’t overlook his little encounter at work, now could he? Not when the truth looked him in the face. Quite literally, in this case.
The man and his mandem wanted that bloody beetle, Steven assumed. The scarab. But he didn’t have it. He couldn’t if it wasn’t real — well, that wasn’t true, now innit? Not when everything else was.
“Bloody hell,” Steven said as he sat on the edge of the mattress, kicking his legs in thought. How did they find him? That man thought his name was an…alias, whatever that was supposed to imply. They had to get intel from someone.
It was Ronnie, wasn’t it? Steven froze in place. That bastard. Or Donna; she always had it out for him. How could he go into work after that whole ordeal? Steven knew the people he worked with were questionable, but now more so than before.
Well, people is a bit of an overstatement. Certain individuals was a more accurate term. Not everyone was as indecent as that lot, thankfully. And he couldn’t ghost his responsibilities, especially on such short notice. What kind of precedent would that set?
Steven pushed himself to his feet, his mind made up. The creepy man was bound to show up — Steven had no doubt about that — but he wouldn’t let that stop him from doing his job. Besides, Steven would be ready this time. He’d make sure to find the scarab before heading out, that way he can get him and his mandem off his back. Unless security got to them first, of course. Steven wouldn’t complain about that.
But first, he needed some breakfast. Steven couldn’t go searching on an empty stomach. He wasn’t a madman. And surely by then, he’ll remember where he placed the darn thing.
As Steven stepped out of the room, he expected the place to be ransacked, but to his surprise, he found nothing off — actually scratch that. There was a bowl on the table. Still, nothing serious, much to his relief. Steven must’ve forgotten to wash up after dinner last night. Which would make sense if it wasn’t…warm.
Or filled to the brim.
Or that it was a breakfast item.
Porridge, to be exact.
Did he…did he sleepcook? Did such a thing exist? It was possible that he made it himself, then went back to sleep. Despite how absurd it sounded, Steven was willing to accept it. That was until he saw the post-it note nearby.
Written with his pen. On his post-it.
But not in his handwriting.
Steven plucked it from the table, wincing as it dampened from his touch. It was sloppily written as if in a hurry. “When you’re ready to talk,” he read aloud, his voice wavering with uncertainty, “Come find us.”
Steven looked over his shoulder. They found him.
In hindsight, this shouldn’t be a surprise. Of course they would track him down to his residence. Did Steven truly believe that they wouldn’t resort to this?
Now, the porridge felt like a taunt. He was dealing with intruders and stalkers. Only someone who’s been observing him for a considerate amount of time would know it was his favorite. They even took the time to slice bananas for him. Way to rub in the fact they knew he was vegan. Those bastards.
Should he call the authorities? The longer Steven thought about it, the sillier the suggestion felt. What would the operator expect of him? He couldn’t just stand around here like a bumbling fool when the intruders were already inside with him, presumably only a couple meters away. Backup could only arrive so fast, and hostage takers could only be so patient. Some morning this was turning out to be.
But he would be fine. Steven was perfectly capable of chasing strangers off his property. He could defend himself. Probably.
Hopefully.
Steven traded the note in for one of his hefty textbooks. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but in all fairness, he’s never had a reason to own one before. He tightened his grip as he paced across the flat. This wasn’t the time or place to be nervous. Not even in his own home could let his guard down.
Steven investigated the bathroom and closet, behind the bookcases that divided the flat, only to find not a soul in sight.
For a moment, Steven believed this whole scare was just an elaborate prank. It wasn’t the last time someone went out of their way to mess with his head. But a nagging in the back of his mind told him to scout out the alcove, just to be safe. And so, he did.
Steven entered, raising his arm in anticipation. There was nothing here except for the row of reflections staring back at him. He was…okay. Relief washed over him. Steven slowly lowered the book.
Two of his reflections did not.
“Bloody hell!”
The book hit the glass faster than he could comprehend. The crack left behind meant nothing to him. What Steven wanted more than anything was to scramble away — it was too early for whatever this bloody was — but he found his legs immovable. Fight or flight was doing wonders for him today.
The reflection in the center stepped to the right, trading places with Steven’s agape expression. “I know you’re scared, pal,” the reflection said. Only his mouth moved along with the words, much to Steven’s horror. It shouldn't be talking, yet alone being audible. “ But you’re gonna be alright.”
“Oh, am I really?” Steven asked before he could stop himself. “Because I’m talking to myself. Literally talking to myself. That’s not normal, mate.”
The reflections winced at that, each distinctly their own. Which wasn’t right. It was all wrong. They were all reflections of him. They couldn’t move freely or have feelings of their own. It was absurd to think otherwise. Steven was still waking up, is all. His eyes had yet to adjust properly. But the mirror displayed three distinct reactions. That couldn’t be a trick of the light, no matter how desperately he wanted it to be so.
Then, what was this? Delirium? Sleep deprivation?
“You need to breathe for me, bud.”
Possession? The thought made Steven want to laugh. Almost. He might’ve if two demons inhabiting his body wasn’t so terrifyingly possible.
“I eat one piece of steak,” Steven said, mostly to himself, or as much to himself as humanly possible. “And then, bam, I go bonkers.”
“I’m sure you have a lot of questions, Steven.”
“Understatement of the year. Or – Or my life, really.”
Steven’s reflections gained sentience overnight. All of — no, just two of them. He still had his own in the glass, though it didn’t make a load of sense. If just one was off, shouldn’t they all be? Since they’re just a reflection of him, the same rules should all apply — oh, who was he joking? They couldn’t be a reflection of him. They each carried themselves differently somehow. And though only one was speaking, Steven was sure the other had an accent just as ridicu—
“Steven,” the other finally cut in, brows pinched together. “You need to listen to us.”
Just as Steven expected. It sounded nothing like him at all.
Wait.
Steven. You need to stop.
That was — it sounded like…
“You’re the voice,” Steven said, his voice rising with the realization. It shouldn’t be possible, but there was no denying what was in front of him. The figure’s silence only cemented that fact. “The one who chased me out of my flat?” Steven pointed towards his panel. “It’s you, innit?”
The man flinched. He looked off to the side as if searching for help, an escape, to be anywhere but here at this moment. And for that, Steven felt a wave of guilt. Or he didn’t. He wasn’t sure how to feel about this whole ordeal; it wasn’t exactly a normal day occurrence.
And as far Steven could tell, this was new to them too. The pair looked as taken aback as he felt. The somewhat identified one swallowed thickly, only speaking when he received a nod from the other, an act of encouragement no doubt. “Yeah, you’re…that was me. I was trying to catch your attention after…after…using my phone.”
The group went quiet. It took a moment for Steven to absorb the weight of that statement, but when he did, he was too tired, too drained to make a big fuss. Well, not as much as the situation warranted.
“You’re Marc?” Steven asked, his voice the lowest pitch it’s been all morning. The man — no, Marc — nodded. Steven gestured to the other, a bit hesitant. ““And who’s this? Mark with a — with a K?”
“Close,” the man said, smiling faintly for a reason unbeknownst to him, “It’s Jake, actually.”
“Oh my days.”
Naming gives power to an idea, and now he had one for each of them. They are fully realized, even if Steven didn’t understand how it was possible.
He really needed to sit down.
Gradually, he moved into a squatting position, despite the look of concern he spotted on the way down.
“How are you holding up, pal?”
“Not very well,” Steven admitted, then added with a laugh, “Considering I’m currently not standing.”
Steven heard a short lived chuckle from above. He had yet to attach it to the correct face. He had plenty of time to learn how to identify them, he supposed. What other options did he have at this point?
“We know this is a lot,” a voice said, somewhat reserved. Marc, he assumed. “We weren’t — we weren’t planning on doing it this way. Or at…There was an incident last night—“
“Incident?” Steven asked. A new box was made on his mental checklist.
“Yeah. It involved…it was about. Do you remember—?“
“How about we tell him over breakfast?” Jake suggested. “That’s a lot to drop on him on an empty stomach.”
“Oh,” Marc said, then quieter, “I forgot that we — yeah, okay.”
Steven rose to his feet. “Forgot what?”
The pair exchanged a look, almost sheepish. It didn’t put Steven’s mind at ease.
“You can tell me,” he said, crossing his arms. Lord, did he feel parental. Was that even possible with two men presumably the same age? “Just spit it out. Can’t be any more stress inducing than everything else you plan to share.”
A beat passed. Steven can practically see the gears turning in their minds — or did they share one? He had more questions than he liked to admit. Marc opened his mouth, but Jake spoke first.
“We thought that — Jesus, this sounds stupid saying it aloud. We thought that if you had something to eat first, this whole thing would go over smoothly. Or smoother, I guess.” Jake gnawed at his bottom lip. “Knew the surprise you would wake up to would freak you out.”
“And we weren’t expecting you to find the note immediately,” Marc quickly added.
Steven looked between the two. Then again. He pressed a palm to his forehead, and laughed out of disbelief. It started off contained before growing louder, shrouded in warmth. This was the silliest thing he’s heard all morning. Week. Month, really. And yet, it brought him some comfort.
Steven wasn’t in danger. He never was. Well, that wasn't exactly true. There was still that man beyond the flat, somewhere out there in the world. But for now, Steven was safe in his flat. They weren't going to hurt him, quite the opposite really. They were concerned over porridge, of all things. All because they were trying to be gentle around him.
Steven didn’t understand what was happening, or who they were, but he felt the tension in his body subside. With a pair like this, he had a gut feeling that he would be safe with them. Little did he know that he was right.