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It had been days since you'd seen him. Days. The longest ones of your life. As you paced around his apartment for the fifth night in a row, you stole glances at the door every few moments, willing him to walk through the door. It wasn't like this was the first time he'd been gone for an extended period but normally he would have called or texted or...something.
You were going to either scream at Marc or hurt him somehow. Your mood shifted with each creak of the aging floorboards. Really, at the end of the day all you wanted was for Steven to walk through the door. But this evening, like the past few, slowly wore on without you seeing hide nor hair of him. Despite your best efforts, your tiredness and worry eventually won over and you fell asleep on the couch, the show you had been attempting to watch lulling you further into sleep.
It wasn't until you heard the door slowly creak open that you suddenly felt wide awake. You sat up, heart pounding with nervous anticipation as you waited for whoever was on the other side of the door to come in.
You could have cried, jumped for joy, screamed with excitement as he walked through the door, but instead you found yourself firmly planted on the couch. He shut the door behind him, making sure to lock it before letting out a heavy sigh.
"Steven," his name escaped your lips in a soft little whisper as you jumped to your feet. You studied him for a moment, spying a long gash across before running over and wrapping your arms around him, "my love. You're home!"
"Hello sweetheart," his voice was so small and tired it almost broke your heart. You hoped you weren't hurting him, gently loosening your hold on him, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"Steven," you brushed his messy, unruly curls off of his forehead before gently touching his cheek and examining the cut, "whatever are you sorry for?"
"Not coming home sooner," he sighed lightly, "not calling. Worrying you."
"You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for," you insisted firmly, knowing that it more than likely wasn't Steven's choice to be gone for an extended period of time, "I'm just glad you're okay, my love. You're okay - right? Please tell me you're alright, Steven."
"Yes," he nodded meekly, "I'm alright. Just my face...and 'm so tired. I didn't mean to worry you."
"I would worry about you if you went to the market to get produce," you laughed lightly, "that's just what you do when you love someone, silly man. You're home and you're alright. That's all that matters, Steven."
"It was so much," he admitted meekly, giving you a tired, worn out look, "I didn't think...I know Marc has got things covered, but there were a few times when I wasn't sure if it would be alright if we would be alright."
"Oh," your heart constricted as you gently started to tug off his jacket, "let me take care of you, Steven. That cut looks pretty nasty, at least let me clean it."
He was silent for a moment, trying to still his racing heart and mind at the look of love and concern on your face. His hands found your face as he gently stroked his thumb over your cheek, causing you to lean into his touch. Before either of you could say anything else, he leaned in and kissed you. It was a slow, sweet thing at first, like he was grounding himself in you, reminding himself that he was safe - he was home whenever and wherever he was with you.
You looped your arms around his neck and held him as close to your body as humanly possible, your kisses taking a more desperate turn. Steven held you and kissed you like his life depended on it, like if he ever let you go you would disappear as though you were a figment of his imagination. You let him take what he needed, take all that he wanted to remind himself that you were his, you were real.
After he pulled back to catch a breath, resting his forehead against yours, you pulled him back in. Gentle, featherlight kisses were peppered all over his cheeks, forehead, nose, and finally his lips. They were delicate touches, meant to reassure him that you weren't going anywhere, that he was safe in your arms, that he was loved.
"I love you," it was a soft declaration, whispered delicately to the point where it almost wasn't audible. He made a small sound unsure of how to process everything he was feeling at once; but he felt warm. Warm, safe, content. Everything all at once, "I'll always love you."
"I know," he replied in a way that spoke everything that was going on in his mind, "thank you."
"Whatever for? You have nothing to thank me for," you insisted, laughing in a way that made his heart pang with longing and happiness, "I'm only telling you what's true."
"I know," he offered up a tentative little smile, "I don't know how or why but-"
"Stop talking, you silly man," you put a finger on his lips as you quietly shushed him, "I love you for all the things you are, you have been, and will be. You're a good man, Steven. There's no way to explain exactly why we love the people we do, it just is. And I happen to love you very much."
"I love you too," he promised, taking your hands in his and gently lacing your fingers together, "coming home to you is the best part of my day."
"I could say the same," you brought his hand to your lips and gently pressed a kiss to his scratched up knuckles, "come on, love. Let's get you cleaned up."
"You don't have to-"
"I want to," you promised, "please. Let me love you and take care of you."
"Are you sure-"
"Yes, Steven," you laughed at his silly little heart-eyed expression, "I insist."
"Okay," his heart leapt in his chest as he nodded eagerly, giving you another kiss, "okay."
