The first time you met Steven Grant, he was the one that spotted you, not the other way round. You were in a bookshop along the shore of regents canal – the gentle waves, roaring fire, and cosy atmosphere were a perfect triad to sit and read. The owner was an old man, gentle spirited and never one to forget a face. So, when you showed up at the shop on a dreary Monday morning, he greeted you by name despite you only having visited twice, and ushered you in to, what was in his opinion, his comfiest armchair, hanging up your sodden rain jacket for you. Ten minutes later, a cup of tea in your hand, and you were absolutely ensconced in a book, not noticing when a second person entered the shop, browsing the shelves.
When the chapter came to an end, you gently shut the book, raised it up to your nose and took a deep breath.
"Good book?" the owner asked and you nodded dreamily, placing it on the counter. "There's nothing like the smell of an old book."
"Vellichor," you and a voice said at the same time, and you turned to see a young man standing behind you, a pile of books in his hands. His jacket was covered in raindrops, black curls dripping on the carpet. Yet his hands were bone dry and he held the books far from his body as not to damage them. You smiled at him with a nod and he glanced down shyly, fingers fumbling with the edge of the pages. He was cute, you thought, but his introverted demeanour made you think he probably didn't realise, and neither did most others.
"Pardon me?" the owner said.
"Vellichor," the man repeated. The owners face continued to be one of confusion so you shed some light.
"The pensive nostalgia and temporality of used bookstores; the feeling evoked by the scent of old books or paper," you said, and the awestruck look the man gave you made you blush.
"Exactly. I saw you smellin' the book, that's all," he said, looking slightly nervous.
"Interesting," the owner said, "never heard that one before." He took the book and slid it into a brown paper bag. "£7 please." You rummaged about in your bag, and then your face fell and you groaned.
"I'm so sorry, I forgot my purse," you sighed. "I'm starting a new job today at the British Museum, guess I'm a bit nervous. Haven't had the clearest head."
"I can reserve it for you if you want to stop by tomorrow," he said and a bright grin spread across your face.
"Really? Thank you so much," you said, throwing your bag over your shoulder. "See you tomorrow!" you called and you left the boat, heading to your new job.
You were met at the entrance to the museum by a blonde, angry looking woman, and within seconds, her open mouthed gum chewing was irritating you. But, you held your tongue as she introduced herself as Donna, and led you to the staff room at the back of the museum.
"Belongings you leave here," she said, pointing at the lockers., "toilets are down the hallways on the left. Oh, and don't expect much company; your co-worker Steven, e's a useless slob, always showing up late n' all."
"Oh," you said. "Thanks for the heads up." You dropped off your bag and rushed to follow Donna out the room and to the gift shop desk.
"You work here. Stock shelves and sell sweets. Every so often you'll be on inventory which means finishing late," Donna said. "Any problem?"
"Not at all," you answered. "Just glad to be working here." She eyed you up and down judgmentally, this obviously wasn't her first choice in job. As you were pinning on your badge, you heard frantic footsteps and Donna's loud sigh.
"10 minutes late Stevie," she said. "Letting your co-worker down before you've even met." You glanced up and the man, Steven, standing in front of you, was the same one who you'd met a half hour prior in the bookshop.
"Actually um..." Steven mumbled and you instantly felt a hatred towards Donna as she demeaned him. You got the feeling that he wasn't nearly as bad as she'd made out, she just didn't like him.
"Actually what? You're not letting her down?"
"He's not," you said, "and we've met before. Nice to see you again Steven."
Donna turned to him, eyebrow raised, and he glanced at you. You mouthed your name and he nodded.
"You too y/n," he replied and you smirked, quickly hiding your grin as Donna's head whipped round to you. She sighed.
"Be late again and I'll... Understand?" Donna sort of threatened. Steven nodded and she walked off. Steven caught your eye and the two of you laughed, him a little nervously, and you felt yourself immediately warming to him.
"Donna's a big fan, huh?" you mused as he wandered behind the desk.
"Oh yeah, she's great," he said sarcastically. You held out your hand.
"Well, it's nice to meet you officially," you said, and he shook your hand. "How comes you're running late; thought you were right behind me?"
"I was," Steven said, and then he sheepishly undid his satchel and pulled out the book you wanted. "I heard you say you were starting here; thought I'd get you a welcome gift." He held out the book and you took it, clutching it to your chest with glee.
"Seriously?" you cried. "Thank you so much, you shouldn't have."
Steven shrugged. "Is the least I could do for having an ally against Donna."
You chuckled at his choice of words. "So, ally," you teased, "how bout you show me how things are done around here?"
Steven took you through the basic duties of your job, and when the day came to an end, offered to give you a private guided tour of the museum which you eagerly accepted. It was then that you discovered each other's profound interest in Egyptology, and by the end of the night you had decided that you and Steven were destined to be great friends. And, seemingly, so did he.
"You alright to get home alone this late love?" he asked as the two of you stepped into the cold London night. You pulled your jacket tightly around you.
"Yeah," you said, "Thanks Steven, it's been a good first day." You patted his arm and noted his blush as you jogged down the steps and set off home.
The next day you found yourself eager to get in early to the museum. You brought a second coffee with you to give to Steven, but by the time he showed up it was cold. You watched as he rushed by the stand, giving you a quick wave as he went to dump his bag. A few minutes later and he was by your side, breathing heavily.
"Morning Steven," you said. "I got you coffee. Might be a lil' cold." You held out the cup and he took is gratefully.
"Cheers love," he said, taking a sip. "I'm so sorry I'm late. Is Donna..." he trailed off; eyes wide in fright as he glanced around. You shook your head.
"She's been busy upstairs. I told her you were here on time," you explained and he breathed a sigh of relief.
"No one's ever had my back before," he said.
You shrugged. "I'm not no one," you answered, "besides, it's the least I can do." You fell quiet and so did Steven and the two of you got along with your duties. You could feel his eyes on you every so often, but every time you looked up and caught his eye he averted his gaze shyly. He eagerly drunk his coffee despite it being cold, and then you watched as he poured another, and another.
"Didn't sleep or something?" you commented, unaware to the extent that Steven didn't sleep.
"Not very well," he answered and you sucked your lip.
"Donna said you're late pretty often. That got something to do with it?"
Steven looked sad as he scanned plushie Tawerets and arranged them with slightly shaking hands in a wire tub.
"I have a sleepwalking condition," he said.
"Bad?" he nodded. "How bad?"
"I woke up once in New York love," he said and your eyes widened as you frowned. "So I try and stay awake, but sometimes I can't and I oversleep."
"Are you okay?" you asked and Steven looked surprised.
"No one's ever asked that before." You looked at him sympathetically as he rubbed his eyes. "No one's cared enough."
"I care," you said immediately. "Screw the Donna's of the world."
Steven smiled. "Yeah. Screw 'em."
Months went by, some of the greatest of your life as you got to see Steven every day. The two of you bonded extremely quickly – your likes and dislikes practically the same, and it was nearly 3 months to the day when you realised just how much Steven trusted you.
"Good night Steven, have a good evening," you said as he walked into the staff room sheepishly. He didn't reply, just twiddled with his fingers, searching for words as he muttered something under his breath. You'd noticed how out of it he'd been all day; coming to work looking a mess, unable to get through a sentence without yawning.
"You alright sweetheart?" you asked, letting your bag down onto the bench and reaching up for the tie he wore. It was uneven, so was his collar, and you fixed both kindly.
"I 'aven't slept in three days," he admitted. "I have all these, things, precautions that are meant to stop the sleepwalking, yeah, but they don't."
"I'm guessing there's nothing you haven't tried," you said sympathetically.
"Well," he said nervously. "There's one thing." He looked into your eyes and in that moment you could've sworn you read his mind.
"You want me to come over?" you more offered than asked. "I can watch you, stop you going anywhere."
"You don't have to," he said quickly, "it's just a person's more reliable than anything else innit, and I..." he trailed off, and you suddenly felt the urge to give him a hug. You wrapped your arms around him, one around his waist and the other over his shoulder. As you did, you felt him untense, and he let his whole body relax into you as he hugged you back, hands splayed on your back.
"You don't have to explain yourself to me," you said. "You're my best friend, ok?" you pulled away, holding his face in your hands. "Ok?" you repeated and he nodded.
"Best friend," he said with a grin.
"Good. I'll keep you company when you don't wanna sleep and watch over you when you do." You grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder. "Gimme a half hour to go home, grab some supplies. Then let's go get you some rest."