above all (m×m) ✔

17) just nightmares

"Penny for your thoughts." Steven murmured, studying Brandon's expression through the rear view mirror. Brandon swallowed, pretending to be interested in the red light, which took forever to change. 

He had promised to let Steven in, but how could he tell him about this? Steven was making his life feel like it had a meaning, turning it from monochrome to multicolor. Brandon was finally seeing colors, so vivid they hurt his eye, so what would he do if Steven deemed him beyond saving?

"I.. I haven't been sleeping well." Brandon found himself admitting, as a frown overtook his face.

"Well, I kind of figured that out the moment I saw you." Steven pointed out, aiming for a light, conversational tone. It couldn't hide his uncertainty, when he ventured on: "Any particular reason why you can't sleep?"

"Just nightmares, I guess." Brandon aimed for similar nonchalance. 

"Just nightmares." Steven repeated, a pucker appearing between his brows. "Only they're not just nightmares."

"What do you mean?" Brandon asked, quiet as a mouse. Like the scared little mouse he was turning into.

"'Just' a nightmare is about the CIA and the shadow monsters, not about.." Steven waved his hand, trying to come up with the right description. "People who have done us wrong or hurt us, or terrible things that have really happened to us."

Brandon grew silent, not knowing what he could possibly say to that. One part of him was terrified that Steven was onto him, about to realize exactly how badly his past had messed him up, while another knew that Steven would understand. If Eli was any indicator, Steven had an ample understanding of mental health issues, and he wasn't afraid to offer his support when needed to.

But Eli is special and you're nothing, the voice in Brandon's head was quick to say. He pushed the thought away.

"Why haven't you called me? I would have answered, you know I would have." Steven said, his tone rueful. He turned off the engine, and they sat in silence in his parking space. 

"I know, and you would have stayed up until I fell asleep." Brandon didn't even have to think about it, he already knew Steven would do that much and more for him. "And then you would have gotten even less sleep."

"Brandon.." Steven breathed. 

"It's embarrassing, okay?" Brandon blurted out, twisting and tucking at his sleeve. "No grown man should be afraid of his nightmares."

"Brandon." Steven said, this time with more certainty. He clasped Brandon's hands and held them firmly as he leveled a gaze on him. "That's bullshit and you know it. You're not any less of a man, or pathetic or burdensome, if you are afraid and need help. Just call me or Shirley next time, will you?"

"When did you get so smart?" Brandon chuckled, blinking his eyes to keep them dry. He was giving Steven way too little credit, by constantly doubting him and making assumptions about how he would react.

"Well, obviously, I've always been this smart." Steven announced, his broad grin wrinkling the corners of his mouth. He wanted to cheer Brandon up, to lighten the mood, but the following silence told Brandon he wasn't done with the topic.

"I promise I'll try." Brandon whispered, just as Steven was about to get up from his seat. Steven halted, surprised, before he nodded and a smile overtook his features. "I'm sorry, I always make things more difficult than they need to be."

"Nonsense." Steven said, softly, and then he turned to open the door again. He got up, waiting until Brandon had done the same, and then added with a lopsided grin: "Come on, I'll let you choose the restaurant this time."

Steven ended up choosing the restaurant after all, as Brandon couldn't decide what he wanted. They ordered two dishes to share, one of them being spicy rice cakes, Tteokbokki, and ground beef dumplings, from a new street food type of Korean restaurant.

"I don't know about you.." A big yawn cut Steven's sentence short. "But a nap sounds just about the most compelling thing for me right now."

"Yeah." Brandon agreed, even though he didn't think he could actually get any sleep in the middle of the day. Especially as it was still so bright outside. He got up to take their plates to the sink, about to wash them.

"No, leave them." Steven urged, taking Brandon's hand and guiding him to the bedroom. The bed was as wide as it was long, and yet it took only a fraction of the room. There were more canvases, still stacked against the walls, like Steven had just moved in and hadn't yet gotten to the part of hanging them up. Otherwise the room was tidy, almost immaculately so.

Steven threw himself on the bed, placing his hands behind his back and grinning up at Brandon. It was a clear invitation to join him, but Brandon couldn't help but hesitate. He bit his lip, trying to make his legs obey and take him to the bed instead of just standing there like an idiot.

"If you don't want to sleep in the same be—" Steven began, but Brandon cut him short by laying down next to him. Steven's mouth curved into a content smile and he shut his eyes.

It didn't take long before Steven's breath evened and his face melted to one so peaceful no nightmare could get to him. Brandon rolled onto his side, studying Steven's face while his own body only began to unwind. Fitzgerald hopped on the bed, curling up into a tiny ball against Brandon's stomach. Brandon scratched the cat absent-mindedly, unable to tear his gaze from Steven.

The apartment was air-conditioned, turning Brandon's skin pebbled under the long sleeves of his shirt, but Steven seemed perfectly content in his cream white sleeveless top. The top paired with black trousers seemed like an oddly commonplace choice for Steven, who was all about bright colors and imaginative prints. He did have rainbow striped socks on, though, and the sight of them made Brandon smile.

Brandon yearned to brush his fingers through Steven's black hair, along his sculpted cheekbones and the strong jawline. This close, Brandon could see a cluster of blackheads along the bridge of his slightly downturned nose, and the pimples on his temple. 

Brandon knew that Steven was in a constant battle with his skin, praying he wouldn't wake up face blooming with zits on the morning of a photoshoot. Apparently in the world of advertisements and Photoshop, no one had texture in their skin. In real life, though, people had pimples, wrinkles, blackheads and scars. And that didn't make Steven any less of anything.

Brandon still didn't understand what someone so bright, kind and handsome as Steven could see in someone like him. But he trusted Steven enough by then to know that he was serious about his feelings. That trust reminded Brandon how he needed to stop assuming the worst. He needed to stop looking for proofs from his past, when right in front of him was someone who had been nothing like the others before him.

To trust again, it seemed, was a slow process: to take a step forward only to take two back. How many times would he have to tell himself that Steven wasn't his father? That he wasn't going to be another Trey?

Brandon sighed and let his eyes flutter shut. He made himself a silent promise that he truly wouldn't hesitate to call Steven when he next woke to a nightmare, that he would be honest about his fears to Steven without making assumptions.

Before Brandon even noticed the drowsiness taking over, he fell asleep, listening to the steady rhythm of Steven's breathing and the soft purr of Fitzgerald. For the first time in over a week, he had no nightmares.