Work Text:
“Steve,” a distant voice called, lightly shaking him awake. He couldn’t focus hard enough to respond. There were too many sounds— the loud honks of LA traffic, breakfast cooking downstairs, dogs barking, doors slamming, neighbors vacuuming. It was all too much, to the extent that it became nothing. Just white noise and static. Steve mentally counted the sound of another helicopter flying overhead. That was five in one morning. Didn’t the rich have anything better to do? “Come on, babe, I can’t let you sleep in again. Bad habits are easier to start than they are to break.”
Steven squirmed away from the cold hand creeping dangerously close to his forehead. The restaurant across the street always got packed around brunch. Cars beeped. People raised their voices as they clinked their glasses. All it took was one open window to hear entire life stories. Something about brunch just made everyone more relaxed. The breakups were still pretty hard to hear, though. “Are you sick? Tired? I can’t help without a signal, bud.”
Oh. That’s Apollo. Steve’s mind noted helpfully. Of course it was. Who else would pester him like this? “I’m not gonna leave until I know you’re okay, dude.” Dude . Steve physically cringed. The static got louder. A couple was arguing outside. A motorcycle engine whirred. Somebody knocked on the neighbor’s door. “Are you floating, then? Blink three times if you can hear me?”
Blinking became a much more arduous task when your brain was miles away from your actual body. Steve blinked once. He couldn’t even force his head to look up at his boyfriend. Typical. He blinked again. It was originally Apollo’s idea to refer to these episodes as “floating”. Steve didn’t have the heart to say that dissociating never really felt like that for him— the last thing he wanted to do was scare Apollo. He blinked a third time. It felt more like sinking through quicksand. Or the way your body aches after a hike. Sometimes, when he was gone for long enough, it felt like nothing . That was the true allure (and the scariest part). Apollo’s voice shook, “I’m gonna sit you up. Is that okay?” Steve didn’t respond.
The first time Apollo found Steven floating it terrified him. They had no system in place to communicate, not even a name for what was happening. One moment Steve was feeling a little bit spacey and the next he was gone. Dissociation wasn’t new to him, not by any means, but he’d never sunk so far that he couldn’t move. And the worst part? He enjoyed it. If not for Apollo thinking that he was quite literally dead, Steve wouldn’t have even considered coming back up.
Two hands were on his sides. In an instant, Steve was sitting with his back against the headboard and white noise in his ears. It was so intense that he could barely hear. He felt like nothing, so completely detached from reality that he couldn’t move his eyes, let alone say that it was a no touching kinda day. Even then, he couldn’t remember what was so bad about letting himself float. He usually avoided this feeling like the plague. Why was that, again? “I’m gonna help ground you, alright?” Usually, Steve would blink once for yes or twice for no. Today he did neither. Apollo’s breathing sounded fast and uneven. “Steve? Are you with me?”
That was why. Steve was trying not to scare Apollo. He usually did a pretty good job— the blinking system worked. Not to mention how rare his episodes had become in recent months. Sure, he forcibly pushed the feeling away more often than not, but what did that matter? It seemed like Steve was getting better. It was usually easy to pass off the recurring morning static as tiredness. Up until today. From far away, he felt the slightest bit of pressure on his hands. Apollo was trying to ground him. He reflexively jerked away as the static creeped in even closer. Apollo was probably trying to apologize. Steve could barely hear it.
If he were being completely honest, Steve would say that floating for this long felt fucking amazing. Was it a particularly healthy coping mechanism? No, not at all. For him to even get to this point was worrying. Through the fuzz, he could faintly hear the sound of untied shoes clicking against their bedroom’s wooden floors. Apollo was pacing, probably panicked out of his mind. If he could, Steve would’ve stopped floating for a moment just to let his boyfriend know that he was 100% fine. Okay, maybe he wasn’t actually fine, but he felt fine. He didn’t feel like anything at all, really. And that was almost better than being fine.
The world shifted. He was laying down again, this time on Apollo’s lap. A hand carded through Steve’s hair, no doubt another attempt to help ground him. For whatever reason, his brain didn’t register any of these new sensations as bad . Probably because it was Apollo. Definitely because it was Apollo.
His senses came back in bits and pieces. Steven felt himself blink. Then he heard Apollo’s voice, soft and low. Then he felt his fingers, then his hands, then his arms, then his legs, and suddenly he wasn’t nothing anymore. The window was still open and it was loud . The small slice of sunlight glinting through the curtains was blinding. When Apollo spoke, the world rumbled. It was too much, too fast. Steve slowly brought his hands up to his ears. Why couldn’t he just stay gone?
Apollo nearly jumped in surprise. “Steven! Oh my god, are you here?” He wanted to shake his head no but thought better of it.
“Too much,” Steve slurred instead. “Can’t think.” Before he’d finished speaking, Apollo was already out of the bed. He closed the window, then the curtains, then the door. By the time he was finished, Steve felt like something resembling a human being. His hero shuffled back onto the bed, taking care not to make any sudden moves.
“Can you speak?” Steve blinked once. Technically he could, but he didn’t feel like it. “Are you still floating?” Steve blinked twice. Unfortunately, he was present. Apollo let out a long sigh. “Thank fucking god, man, I was so scared.” Man . Steven cringed.
“Not a man.” Steve whispered. He didn’t know why, but sometimes that word hit him like a bullet to the chest. He tried to shake his head to further the point but found his entire body shaking instead.
“Babe, it’s okay, I’m sorry,” Apollo rambled. He was combing his hand through Steve’s hair again. It almost felt like being shushed. “I should’ve known. I wasn’t thinking.”
Steven leaned into the touch. “Sometimes I wish I was nothing.”
Apollo’s hand slowed. “What do you mean by that?”
“Floating.” He stared at the floor. “Just seems easier.”
Apollo’s breath hitched. “How long have you felt like this?”
“A while.”
A beat passed. Steve mentally berated himself. Why even admit to that? How stupid could he be?
“This might sound selfish, but I like it when you're here. You make things easier for me. Does that make sense?” Steve nodded. That did make sense, because he felt the same way.
“Sorry for being such a mess.”
Apollo’s laugh against Steve’s skin felt better than nothing. It cut through the noise and replaced it with something whole. “Don’t apologize for what you can’t control. The coffee I started is totally burnt, though.”
Steve rolled his eyes and snuggled closer.