The Imagination Latibule: Moon Knight - The Rise of the Moon

Chapter 4

You fainted. Obviously, you didn't know that and when you woke up you were in Steven's bed, and there was no sign of him. The sun was streaming through the window, a soft haze about the room. You checked the time. Shit. 11am. You were two hours late for the start of your shift and Donna would actually kill you. But more importantly, where was Steven? 

You couldn't remember what had happened – didn't remember falling asleep – just the waking up. Then you looked around. You'd been neatly tucked in, and was wearing Steven's blue sweater. Your work clothes were neatly folded and sitting on the chair. There was a glass of orange juice by the side of the bed and you took a sip. He'd obviously left for work, fearing Donna's retribution if he was late. You, on the other hand, found yourself easily in her good books, and you guessed he'd assumed it was better to let you sleep in than wake you up all groggy and horrible. Then you noticed the note, a piece of paper ripped from his notebook and used as a coaster for the orange juice. You opened it:

I would have kept dancing with you x

A smile played on your lips; you liked how much he cared for you. You knew that Steven sometimes struggled to find the words to talk to you, that's why your friendship worked so well. He headed the history conversations and you talked about everything else. Finishing the orange juice, you pulled on your clothes, tied your hair back and rushed into work.

"Morning JB," you said to the security guard and he waved you on, entrenched in another otter video. You looked around for Steven but couldn't see him. Oh well, maybe he'd got a start on inventory to stay in Donna's good graces. Speak of the devil. You saw her walk by with a stack of boxes and walked over.

"Good morning, Donna," you said cheerily, "sorry I'm late."

"S'alright," Donna replied. She didn't even ask for a reason.

"You seen Steven?"

"Was gonna ask you the same thing," she huffed. "Three times this week he's shuffled in like a lazy sod, and now he's not come in at all." She moved on, ignoring your stuttering sound of confusion. You tried to call him and felt your heart sink to the pit of your stomach as his phone vibrated in your bag, the one he'd packed for you. You hung up, pulled it out. He never went anywhere without it; if he got lost, it was his lifeline. You paled, and it took everything in you to not cry as you wandered down to the storage rooms. You prayed to God that he'd be down there, and Donna had just failed to notice him come in. He was a wallflower, it wasn't improbable. 

But he wasn't.

For the whole day he didn't show up and by the evening you were seriously considering calling the police. But what could they do? It hadn't been 24 hours so he couldn't be classed as a missing person, and you weren't sure that he was well and truly missing. The second the clock chimed six and your shift was over, you ran from the museum like you were being chased and back to his apartment. The lift ride was unbearably slow which annoyed you until the door was open, and then you were frightened to go to his door. You knocked quietly.

"Steven?" You called. No answer. You unlocked his apartment with the spare key you had, hoping that he'd be in there. But he wasn't. You felt like you'd be overstepping if you stayed and waited for him to come home, so you wrote a note saying how worried you were and left.

On Saturday evening you went back to his place, tentatively knocking again, but he still wasn't there. And that's when you decided to stay. Screw politeness; he owed you an explanation for disappearing without a word and letting you worry.

You slept over, smelling the familiarity of him on his pyjamas you wore and the sheets he slept in. On Sunday morning he still wasn't around, and the panic you were feeling whipped you into such a frenzy you couldn't stay cooped up in the apartment. You left for a long walk around London to try and get your mind off of things, and only when it started to pour did you head back to his apartment. You opened the door with no expectation that he would be there, so when you saw him, sleeve rolled up to his shoulder and trying to fish Gus out of his tank, your first instinct was to throw the keys at him.