Chapter Text
Stefan was starting to get the hang of this.
It had started in Dr. Haynes’ office: arms crossed so tight over his body he swore he could feel his ribs bending under the pressure, knowing that if he would just give in and tug his earlobe, the world would stop closing in on him. He couldn’t, though. Not if he was going to see how far he could push this. He grit his teeth, pretending to process whatever Haynes was saying. Meds, maybe. It didn’t matter.
He blinked, and he was outside. The impulse was gone. Point Stefan.
He spent the car ride home staring at his hands. He imagined his dad was grateful for the silence.
Maybe he could manage this after all.
That first time around, Stefan buried his dad. A rookie mistake, but to be fair, Stefan hadn’t even wanted to kill him in the first place. He was getting better at resisting, sure—his tea knocked onto the floor instead of his computer, then set down a little too hard, then sipped calmly over the alarm bells going off on his head—but some things, he figured, were more integral to the story. Harder to resist.
He sat on the stairs, eyes glazed over, watching his own hand dial Dr. Haynes’ office number. He could try harder, if that was what they wanted.
Stefan stood at the entrance to Tuckersoft, clutching his book bag to his side.
Today was the day.
He had been around more than a few times now, and he knew the script. He also knew the way Colin’s back stiffened whenever he heard Stefan take his first steps into the office, knew the soft look in Colin’s eyes every time they shook hands for the first time.
Had that look always been there? It had taken Stefan at least eight endings to really, truly get to know Colin’s emotions, but they were far past that now. There was a growing desperation to him, and it made Stefan feel dizzy with a new kind of grief that Colin thought he didn’t remember. He took his victories where he could get them, but whoever was controlling him didn’t give him much to work with. After this many times through, even his bigger wins were just another part of the routine. First, Stefan would explain the error in Nohzdyve; later, in the conference room, Colin would explain Bandersnatch to Thakur, and Stefan would feel Colin’s eyes burning holes into the side of his head, begging him to understand the exchange.
It’s okay, he would want to say, I have an idea. Today’s the day.
It was small, but it would work. Colin would know.
Stefan straightened up, readied himself to meet his new boss, and stepped further into the office. Thakur took him over to meet Colin; Stefan gripped his hand like it was the only thing keeping him alive, trying to arrange his face into something that didn’t say I’ve seen you dead a hundred times over, you fucking idiot. Stefan was a shit actor and a human mess, but he knew whatever faces he was making would pass as regular fanboy bullshit. It always did.
It was easy from there. Demo the game, reject the offer, walk out the door. Wait for Colin.
“What do you listen to?” Right on cue.
Stefan was shaking. He needed this to work. “Hmm?”
“To get into the flow.”
Stefan kept his breath slow and even. That was the most important part of resisting, he’d realized: when everything else in his body was running at double speed, and his skull felt like it was about to split in half, he needed something steady to ground him.
“...Stefan? Music?” Colin’s eyes were narrowing. Stefan felt something warm at the center of his chest. He could do this. He could do this.
“...Tho—” He threw a hand over his own mouth. No, Stefan, come on, just—he screwed his eyes shut. He was so close, but God—
“Are you okay, Stefan?”
—God, this hurt. His heart was hammering in his chest so hard he felt it in his legs, his neck, his skull , and he couldn’t control his breathing anymore, didn’t want to , could taste blood from where he’d bit into his hand, could feel tears running over his knuckles, could feel—
Colin’s hands on his shoulders, grounding him, reminding him of where he was.
“Stefan—”
“Phaedra! ” Stefan’s eyes flew open, meeting Colin’s own just in time to watch them grow wide.
Stefan put all of his energy into holding Colin’s gaze, into not collapsing into a heap in front of him, into making sure he knew. Colin’s grip on his shoulders was growing tighter. Stefan had never seen him like this before: face blown open, stock-still, hopeful.
Stefan let out a long, choked breath. It had worked. He'd done it. He could rest.
He let his head fall forward, the top of it just barely pressing into Colin’s chest; brought his bleeding hand up to curl in the hem of Colin’s shirt. What happened next didn’t matter to him anymore: this had worked, so other things could work. He would just have to train, that’s all. He could do that.
Stefan could feel Colin’s heartbeat growing quicker by the second. A few moments later, there was a hand in Stefan’s hair, shaking and tentative. Stefan felt like he was about to die.
“Interesting choice,” Colin said. It was shaky, by his standards. Then, the world went dark.
Stefan woke up in his bed.
Alright, then, he thought, getting up to meet his dad for breakfast. Point Stefan.
He ate both cereals, mixed. His dad told him he needed be more decisive.
He thought of Colin, and he smiled.
He had so much work to do.