Summary: She squeezes his hand and Steven finally registers that she's been holding it the whole time. "Is this really why you keep pushing me away?" she asks.
Partially. "Er, yeah."
She frowns. "Don't do that. Don't make decisions for me."
Steven blinks. "What?"
"You said it's too much for someone else to deal with. What if it isn't? What then?"
Rating: 18+ only* / minors: do not read/interact
WC: 8.5k words
Tags/warnings: slow burn; mutual pining; idiots to lovers; professor/student relationship**; Reader is a "blank slate" but has a backstory; smut (finally!): handjobs, oral sex (F-receiving), penetrative sex, dirty talk, Steven's first time; aftercare
*Do as I say, not as I fictionalize. Please don't fuck your professors.
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Each step of the way, Steven considers turning around. He has so many chances to really think about what he's doing and stop himself. He thinks about it as he puts her address into the maps app on his phone, when he taps his card to pay his fare on the L, and even as he steps out of the station and onto her street. The last moment of hesitation is downstairs, standing outside the door she left propped open for him.
He might not know exactly what will happen if he goes upstairs, but he has a feeling it will change him somehow. Confronting this will make him a different person, irrevocably so, and he doesn't know if that change will be for good or for ill.
Then he remembers the sadness in her voice in the library and his hesitation crumples. He turns the doorknob and steps inside. As he walks up the stairs to her apartment, he tries to imagine how he's going to explain himself to her and comes up with nothing. How can he put into words everything he's felt for the last two weeks? How can he explain that kissing her was the only good idea he's ever had, and somehow also the worst?
