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There was nothing Steven wanted more than a "happily ever after". It was something that he had dreamt about as long as he could remember, and while the meaning changed and shifted over the years, his desire for the fantastical concept stayed strong. When he was younger it meant living in a mansion filled with ancient relics, and when he got older it meant finding someone nice he could settle down with; someone who wouldn't just tolerate his enthusiastic rambling about history, but enjoy it. Someone he could wake up to and fall asleep with, someone he could quietly whisper "I love you" to without worrying that they wouldn't reciprocate feelings. Someone that would hold him so tightly as he slept that he would no longer need any of the precautions he used while he slept.
But as the years went by and Steven's list of problems only grew, it was becoming more and more obvious that a "happily ever after" wasn't in the stars for Steven.
The main problem was that Steven was tired. His nights were restless and his days monotonous; the chances that he would suddenly find something that gave his life meaning beyond studying Egyption hieroglyphs and selling cheap gift shop plushies were steadily dwindling.
Every day was the same thing, wake up, check his ankle restraint, check the sand ring around his bed, check the tape on the door, feed Gus, go to work, go to the park, go home, feed Gus, reapply the tape on his door, refill the sand ring around his bed, relock his ankle restraint, and then fight off the sleep that tickled at the back of his eyelids as long as possible.
Steven knew it was a flawed routine; after all it was a routine rooted in paranoia - in an innate fear that festered deep in Steven's soul that he may wake up miles away from his apartment, with no recollection as to how or why he was there. It was repetitive and tedious and downright embarrassing, but it served its purpose and so Steven followed it devoutly.
