𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐏|Moonknight

iv. hallucinations and what not

"Yeah, you know I think the date went really well...perfect I would say. Oh, she loved the chocolates. Yeah. And she-, I think she might be the one, but wouldn't want to jinx it, yeah?... a-and I might bring her around soon, I think- I think you'd love her she's got this great sense of humor...so, anyway I'll tell you more about it soon. Laters gators"

Steven's breath shuddered from his cluttered chest as soon as he cut the call, and also while cutting off the feigned smile that he had drawn on his face just before the call. His footsteps remained unsure, even though he had walked for the past twenty minutes or so.

Dread had latched onto him like a leech, ever since the morning. He had woken up with a sudden jolted bolt, with the name Nina curling off of his tongue with such a shriek and panic that could even worry Gus, and soon he found his face getting smacked against the timbered floor of his flat, as sand grains boomed into his nose and mouth.

His quivery panicked hands soon held onto the ankle restrainer strained from his wooded bedside, fumbling through its removal, all the while thinking about the florist and what must have happened to her. Everything after the kiss seemed a little too blurred for him to reel back, and the only thing of remembrance was the gutted wrench the woman had let out as her voice bled his name like a plea. And the thought of her being hurt, or god forbid he had done something to scare her or harm her in any way was like reeling himself through a horror film.

This horror only worsened when he didn't find the hearted name of Nina Morton anywhere through his limited contact with his cracked phone. 'No, no, no' he whimpered worriedly as without even thinking twice he went to get his coat and rush himself towards her flat. But before his hands could grasp onto the hung coat rack, a feared question, a feared possibility ran through his brain.

What if she weren't real at all?

No, she must have been, he nodded vigorously to himself. No, she should be, he reassured himself as he searched his bed, his flat, and his phone for any clues of her whatsoever.

Unless his mind was making this all up, making her up. He ensued to reassure himself yet again but the more he thought about it, the more was the theory plausible. His senses mentally debated over this, only to come to a conclusion that was far more reasonable than anything, it decided to eat.

And that's what Steven found himself doing. He had a dead grasp on his cereal bowl, as his frightened brain searched for the answers. Although he deemed to fuel his thought processes with food, things still didn't seem to click, it didn't make sense.

Things thudded with a brink of hyperawareness to Steven Grant, as he tried to clear the blurred events that took place after their kiss. The clock's tick, the honks and buzz of the street from outside, or his neighbor's morning vacuum seemed to be louder than he had ever imagined, that also included the blubbing and the running motor in his one finned friend's tank. And his attention seemed to be diverted towards the latter.