Work Text:
“You have an admirer,” Stephanie’s co-worker whispered in her ear. When Stephanie twisted to look, impulsive as always, her co-worker gripped her wrists. “No, don’t! You’ll give the game away.”
“Game?” Stephanie snorted, wiping the steam wand clean. She turned around, plating up an americano. She flitted her gaze across the shop, seeing if she could catch the eye of the person watching her.
She couldn’t see anyone without blatantly staring at the customers, and besides, the queue was out the door. She had a job to do, regardless of admirers.
“Are they cute?” she managed to ask as herself and her two colleagues struggled to fit and work around each other’s tasks at the counter.
“Hmm. If you like goth boys.”
“He’s not goth,” the other co-worker snipped. “Wearing black and having black hair doesn’t make you goth.”
“Technicalities! He’s cute Steph. See if he hangs about.”
An hour passed, the morning rush ended, and the three baristas cleaned up as best they could. Finally, Stephanie caught the eye of her admirer.
She dropped her tray.
“You okay?” asked one co-worker.
Stephanie stared at the boy, and the boy stared at her. He had been watching her brazenly, with an almost embarrassing single-minded intensity. Returning the stare narrowed in Stephanie’s world tightly, dizzying her and making her breath escape her lungs in a rush.
Her mouth began to salivate.
“What happened?” asked the other colleague.
The boy’s mouth twitched, as if muttering something to himself. Stephanie took a step back. He was watching her as if he knew her.
The sensation of being hunted sent her into a panic.
“I’ll… I’ll take out the trash.”
It was frigid when she kicked open the fire door, steam escaping her mouth in voluminous clouds. The sky was dark, early winter mornings never truly lightened up in Gotham. Splatters of rain fell, ice against her bare arms.
She held onto the lip of the large metal trash cans, head down against her chest, and struggled to catch her breath.
Figuring she was experiencing some kind of panic attack, she attempted to calm her breathing down. The boy hadn’t done anything. He was allowed to look, right? Maybe he was just a bit… odd. It didn’t have to mean anything. Besides, Stephanie’s co-workers would look after her.
Once the cold had fully pierced her skin, forcing her to confront the here and now and not what could be with those boys blue eyes on her face, her skin, her lips, her neck -
She kicked aside the crates that pinned the back door open, trying to return, when a cold hand wrapped around her wrist and pulled her back into the alleyway.
It was the boy from earlier, with a smile so large it hurt to look at. He was about her height, slim and - to her abject horror - very handsome.
“Oh it is you! Finally, I found you.” Stephanie was pulled in tightly, a crushing hug that stole the breath from her. The man continued to talk incessantly, babbling on in her ear a string of frightening sentences. “I mean it’s been so long… and you even smell the same. Look at you! I couldn’t be sure, but something kept telling me to come back here and here you are. Alive.”
The juvenile glee in the man’s voice tapered off as he pulled away enough to study Stephanie’s face. He pushed her back, trapping her against the wall and bins.
Stephanie felt the inexplicable urge to put her hands around her own throat, cradling them from sight.
"I never stopped hoping," he said. The excitement in his voice was nothing less than feral, a desperate and hungry joy after months, years, of being denied what he wanted.
Stephanie shivered, squirming against the wall.
“I um… I think you have the wrong… person… I need to get back to my friends so…”
It was a weak statement; especially knowing full well she should have just kneed the boy in the crotch and fled back inside and maybe called the police if he refused to leave. Barricade herself in the toilet until then.
The boy’s bright blue eyes darkened then, entire body tensing.
“Stephanie,” he urged, and Stephanie recoiled as if shot, refusing to consider how he knew her name. “Steph, you don’t need any friends, or to work here. I’ll take care of you, promise! Nothing will take you away this time. Not wasting this second chance.”
She watched, horror growing, as his dark and hungry eyes moved down to her mouth. The terror only grow when she moved to meet his movements, welcoming them. He kissed her, and she kissed him, swallowing up any protest she may have held. Her hands fell away from her neck, almost against her will, holding his own wrists instead, and his kiss moved, trailing down her skin.
Feeling her limbs not co-operating, Stephanie could only breathe heavily as his lips paused over her hammering and loud pulse. His tongue pressed against her skin, then with a sharpness only comparable to a needle, her skin was pierced open.
Blood rushed to escape and she shrieked, arching up against the boy’s. Knees trembling, she fell forward, right into the arms of -
Tim.
Tim.
A thousand memories that were not hers blinded her, but she could not enjoy it.
A sudden scream was swiftly followed by a tearing sensation that made Stephanie cry out in pain. The oppressive and dreamlike presence of the boy was taken from her and Stephanie collapsed, falling to the wet and frozen floor.
Eyes blurring, she tried to understand what was happening. The boy was nowhere to be seen, and her co-worker was kneeling in front of her. Stephanie’s hand was pressed to her neck. Scarlet flowed in between her fingers, dripping down and ruining her white shirt.
Breathing labored, mouth wet, Stephanie stared down the alleyway.
“Tim,” she whispered, as if calling him back to her.
But there was nothing. The boy was gone.