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Sometimes, when Apollo is amongst his friends in a Discord call or on stream, he feels out of place. Untethered, in the way that he feels like he doesn’t belong. He’s too loud, too intense, too much.
No one had ever told him this, not to his face, but Apollo’s strongest talent was picking apart interactions until they told him what he knew to be the truth. The way Hafu cut herself off when Apollo laughed too loud, or the way 5up’s voice had an annoyed lilt when Apollo said too much.
Steve told him, over and over, that he was just imagining it. That their friends adored him and that if they didn’t, Apollo would never be invited. Steve never lied, not about anything serious, so Apollo knew it was true.
And yet- at the end of every stream, Apollo sits in his chair and thinks. Sometimes, he’s jealous of how easily Steve seems to interact with people. How it comes naturally to him, the ease in his laugh and softness in his voice. Apollo knows it isn’t fair to compare them, especially when he knows Steve struggles with anxiety just as much as he does. They’d had their fair share of late night calls, where they’re past the point of joking and laughing, and into the soothing silence that comes with complete comfort with each other. Apollo shared things with Steve that he’d never told another soul and in return, Steve laid his heart bare.
It was during one of these quiet conversations, when Apollo was content.
“We’re all going to Hafu’s for Thanksgiving. Will you come?”
Steve’s voice was hopeful. Soft, like he hated the idea of Apollo not attending. And of course, like most things with Steve, Apollo folded like wet paper. He wondered if Steve knew just how much power he had over him, if he knew that he only ever had to ask. Apollo would give him the universe, someway, somehow.
Imagining seeing Steve in person again was heady. Apollo’s heart beat faster at the thought, its thumping playing a tune only he could hear. It was hard to keep his hands to himself last time, but this time? When Steve and Apollo had become SteveandApollo? Sometimes Apollo thought it impossible that Steve didn’t know how he felt, the way their edges bled together on Discord calls. The way his voice shook sometimes, when Steve was being an idiot to make him laugh, and Apollo’s feelings felt like they were escaping his chest.
He thought about how their hands brushed last time, how Steve would smile at him in that cheesy, beautiful way of his that made Apollo short of breath and giddy. How, this time, Apollo might be brave enough to reach out and grab, instead of grasping onto the memory of fleeting touches between conversations.
“Yeah,” Apollo replies, out of breath. “Yeah, of course I will.”
Steve’s exhale is rough, like he truly didn’t expect Apollo to say yes. Apollo would do anything for him, didn’t he know?
“That’s good,” he says. “I’m excited to see you, honey.”
Apollo’s next breath is shaky.
“Yeah,” he says faintly. “Me too.”
Steve laughs, and Apollo yearns.
The days and weeks pass quickly from there. When things got rough, when Apollo didn’t feel like getting out of bed because it was too hard and too exhausting, he thinks of Thanksgiving. Seeing his friends and seeing Steve - Apollo’s brain subconsciously put them in separate categories - gets him through.
And soon enough, he’s on a plane to Vegas. The entire flight, he listens to Steve’s music. He tries to nap, but anticipation grips his heart in a way that makes sleep impossible. Instead, Apollo imagines every way seeing Steve could go. He wants them to hug, he wants to feel safe in Steve’s arms. Safe, the way only Steve makes him feel. He wants them to kiss, but Apollo knows that wish is a far-fetched dream. SteveandApollo exists, but not romantically, no matter how much he craves it.
Maybe all they’ll do is say hello. Maybe they won’t touch at all. This is Apollo’s worst-case scenario, yet the doubt makes his breath come short. He squeezes his eyes shut, clenches his hands into a fist, and tries to nap again.
The Uber to Hafu’s house presents a familiar challenge. All of Apollo’s limbs are locked from anxiety and the lump in his throat makes it hard to swallow. He texts Steve, then, because Steve always helps.
Hey, he types. Are you there already?
Steve’s reply is instant. Apollo imagines it’s because Steve is as nervous as he is.
Sure am. Close by?
Ten minutes.
Steve reacts with a fire emoji. It makes Apollo laugh and loosen his limbs. Steve isn’t scary, no matter what happens. SteveandApollo.
When Apollo steps out of his Uber, his path is blocked by Steve. He glimpses his grin briefly before being enveloped in his arms. Finally, Apollo truly relaxes. Safe. He rests his head on Steve’s shoulder, bending down to make it fit, and winds his arms around his waist. They fit perfectly together. Apollo has a silly thought about soulmates that he chases away by turning his nose into Steve’s neck, where his scent is strongest.
“Hey!” Hafu says from behind Steve. “We’re here too!”
Apollo feels the vibration of Steve’s laugh from where their chests are pressed together. He sighs, stepping back from Steve’s warm embrace.
“Hi, Hafu. It’s nice to see you,” Apollo says, smiling. “Thank you for having me.”
After that, the day passes slowly in the best way. Seeing all his friends in one place was special, something he knew wouldn’t happen often. He tries to commit it to memory, sear it into his brain so he can remember easily when he’s back home.
And the way Steve barely left his side? That was everything. More than he could’ve hoped for. Even while having two conversations, with two different people, their sides fused together. Steve’s hand rests on the small of his back and in return, Apollo gently runs his hand from his wrist to his elbow.
When the night winds down, Hafu announces the room set up.
“Steve and Apollo, you’re together, okay?”
Apollo is convinced he sees a mischievous glint in her eyes, a smug curve to her smile. But she moves on, and Steve turns to him.
“Looks like it’s us. If you snore, I’m throwing a pillow at you,” Steve says.
Apollo scoffs. “I don’t snore, idiot.”
Steve’s laughter follows him down the hall.
In the end, it’s Steve that snores. Apollo throws a pillow at him, which Steve just grabs and cuddles into. And he’s left without a pillow after that, but looking at Steve’s peaceful face, curled around a pillow that has his scent, makes Apollo’s insides feel mushy.
He stares at him for a while, pillowless and cold. And then, fuck it, crawls into Steve’s bed. The pillow is shoved out of the way, replaced with Apollo as the little spoon. Steve doesn’t wake, instead pulling him closer.
Apollo can hear his heart beating fast, thumping through his ears. As usual, he feels safe, safer than he’s felt since he was a child, when all he had to do was ask to receive affection. It’s like that with Steve as well, Apollo muses, way past midnight when he should be asleep. Steve was never shy with his affection and he’s tired of anxiety holding him back.
Maybe tomorrow, Apollo will finally have enough courage to reach out and kiss him. To connect them through their bodies, but also through their souls, in the way only SteveandApollo can.
Surrounded by Steve’s scent, he finally goes to sleep.