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Convincing you to accompany him was easier than Steven thought. He had the sneaking suspicion that your acquiescence had to do with the third alter. A certain wariness that hadn't been there the night before coated your every interaction with him, as though you were poised to flinch away at a moment's notice.
It made his guts twist.
Marc had the grace to take a backseat for Steven to attempt smoothing things over with you. He watched from behind Steven's eyes, guilt slowly coalescing in his chest as he heard, saw, and felt Steven's desperation. It rolled out in waves that Steven, half-cognizant of it, struggled to repress.
To your credit, you didn't panic or try to flee. If anything, you withdrew into yourself, growing more statuesque the closer the taxi drew to the airport.
"I know it sounds mad," Steven murmured quietly, trying to make eye contact with you.
You didn't spare him a single glance, your gaze locked on your hands clasped between your knees.
"But getting you out of the country is a good thing, innit? Getting you out of danger and harm's way and all that."
Your shoulder lifted in the barest hint of a shrug.
Steven quailed. "I'm really sorry. I am. I know this isn't...this isn't what any of this should have been like."
The taxi eased into the line of cars dumping passengers onto the sidewalk outside the airport.
Your eyes fluttered shut.
A thought occurred to Marc. Voicing it aloud to Steven, he asked, "Did she bring her passport?"
"Do you have your passport, love?"
Eyes still squeezed shut, you nodded. Your silence ate at Steven's soul, making his heart plummet and his guts clench the longer he went without hearing your voice.
