She was in a great amount of denial over what she'd just been told.

She kept telling herself that when she would finally see him, he would certainly be fine and not a trace of what Byron described of Steven's supposed injuries were real. They had to be lying to her.

Yet, from the moment she had gotten that alarming phone call, up until the moment she entered his hospital room, the dreaded feeling of fear was beside her, no matter how much she tried to reassure herself.

And her deepest fears of that day became her reality when she finally witnessed his body lying limp on a hospital bed, with bandages wrapped all around his head and torso.

But his heart beat steadily, and she knew that he was still very much alive. Seeing him breathe each time his chest rose and fell was just enough assurance to allow herself some breathing room and finally sigh in relief. She gripped his warm hand firmly with hers that were ice cold. To think he was that close to experiencing the worst of his injuries…

She broke at the state of him.

The tears came falling before she could stop them.

It was days later before he finally showed any signs of waking from unconsciousness. She happened to feel the faintest squeeze of his fingers against hers that were entwined with his. She watched with patience (though her own heart was beating so rapidly inside her chest) as he slowly shifted in bed and his eyes finally opened to his surroundings.

The nurse had gone away to inform the doctors but she stayed put at his bedside.

When his eyes roved over to her, she smiled with all the happiness and relief she could muster, in that moment.

"Steven…you're alright!"

She fought her best to blink back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks as she told him, over and over, how worried she'd been and how glad she was to see him awake again. But through it all, she didn't even seem to feel or notice him tense up at her touch when she leaned over to kiss his forehead and cheek.

It was only when she pulled back to look at him again, giving him a relieved smile once more, did she finally discover the confusion and uncertainty in his gaze.

She heard the footsteps of the doctor and nurse coming back into the room, when her blood immediately turned to ice. Something wasn't right.

"Steven?"

His eyes flitted towards the doctor before they went back to her. His voice was hoarse but she heard his first words without trouble. And every single one of them pierced her heart like a dagger.

"I'm sorry…do I…know you, Miss?"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Cynthia."

The Sinnoh champion smiled warmly. "And likewise, with you," she replied, setting her tea cup down.

Upon first glance, Steven's physical appearance was still the same as ever, from the times she'd seen him on TV. With his windswept, steel blue hair and his well-fitted suit that he always had a preference of wearing, even on a casual basis – though the polished, metal cuffs at the ends of his sleeves were a new touch, apparently.

"What brings a former Hoenn champion to Sinnoh?"

A fond grin was sent her way. "Well, after I lost the champion title, I decided to go and venture outside of Hoenn to explore and see what rare stones I could find, now that I have all this free time," he answered. "Sinnoh is my last stop before I return home."

Cynthia let out a light laugh. "Of course, I shouldn't be surprised that you've come in search of rare stones," she said, teasingly. "Have you had any luck since you arrived?"

"Indeed, I have." He nodded curtly. "The Underground has been the most rewarding, in that aspect – although I've also done my share of sight-seeing on the side. Though I find that there's still much more to see and explore before I can call it a successful trip, however long it takes."

"You'll be here a while, then, before that happens," she mused. "I've lived here my whole life and I still think there's so much I've yet to see for myself in Sinnoh."

Steven's lips curled up in amusement. "I suppose that means I have a lot of catching up to do, then?"

"Twenty-five years' worth of catching up to, I'm afraid."

If it hadn't been for the interruption of her phone going off in her pocket, a half hour later, altering her to a reminder that she was needed back at the Pokémon League, Cynthia would have gladly chosen to have spent more time chatting away with Steven Stone. She was rather disappointed to have to part ways with him so soon – for it wasn't an everyday occurrence she'd get a chance to hold a conversation with someone she felt so at ease and comfortable with right off the bat.

"Actually, I wouldn't mind getting another chance to meet up with you again," Steven said to her when she stood from her seat. "Ah, properly, next time, since it was an incredible stroke of luck that we happened to bump into each other here."

Cynthia couldn't help the sensation of Butterfree fluttering within at his offering.

"I would love to."

"…Post-traumatic amnesia," they had said to her. "The injuries he sustained to his head caused for some swelling in his brain so it is likely that he's experiencing some memory loss…"

That was all she managed to hear from their diagnosis. Anything else they might have been telling her afterwards went unheeded for she had gone completely numb.

Because she knew exactly what they had meant to say.

And she couldn't bear the thought of it – of him not remembering who she was.

Steven couldn't help noting how beautiful the blonde woman was, the moment he laid eyes on her.

And he was quite sure that he had never seen her ever before. But the way her eyes widened in shock when she reeled back from him after he had spoken, seemed to tell him otherwise.

When he was finally told the truth, he was beyond disbelief.

They had told him all about the apparent accident he'd been in days ago – how large rocks had fallen from the ceiling inside a cavern he'd been in, which landed him in that hospital bed – with serious injuries and in a state of amnesia. It was all so strange to think that it had happened to him at all.

He stared at the door from which the woman had left through when one of the nurses led her out, just moments earlier. "That woman," he started in a soft tone. "Who was she?"

The doctor at his bedside paused and looked at him, almost sympathetically. "Her name is Cynthia."

"Cynthia?"

He received a nod. "She's your fiancée."

"Would you ever consider marrying me one day?"

She raised her head from where she'd been leaning against his shoulder. His question came as somewhat of a shock to her. But his expression was calm, as if he hadn't been joking when he said it.

Still, she managed a lighthearted grin and replied, "Are you thinking of proposing to me right now, Steven? At your best friend's wedding?"

Cynthia could tell Steven was flustered, even under the dim blue lighting around them. "No, of course not! I mean – not at this very moment, at least." He cleared his throat. "I just…we've been going steady for a few years now and I feel like it's something to think about and be up for some discussion."

He glanced away from her momentarily, looking off at the newlyweds sharing their first dance. She found herself doing the same when Wallace twirled Winona to the soft ballad playing for them in the background. Seeing their friends so happy and in love was a wonderful sight.

"I would like that very much, actually," Cynthia said, returning her gaze back to Steven.

He rounded his eyes on her. "Yeah?"

She laughed. "Is it really such a surprise? You've made me so happy all these years we've been together and I would love for us to share our future together."

"I wouldn't...want to come off as if I were pressuring you into it, though."

"Well, it's not like I haven't thought about it myself, before," she replied almost offhandedly. Because it happened to be the truth, in all the moments that they've shared – from more intimate ones to even the simplest of them all – her heart overflowed with so much love she had for him.

Before he could say anything else, Cynthia leaned up and kissed him for a fleeting moment.

"I love you," she said with absolute sincerity, "and whether you ask me now or tomorrow, or even much later, my answer will most definitely be the same."

He'd been hoping to feel some kind of familiarity when he stepped into their house – for any memories of spending time in any of the rooms.

But there was nothing.

It was strange, being in a place they called his 'home' when he felt next to nothing of the sort.

And he knew things were just as complicated for Cynthia, as it was for him – knowing that he was there with her, but at the same time, he really wasn't.

They were sitting together in the living room, one day, when she brought out photo albums, keepsakes of all sorts, and just about anything that might jog his memory in some way, upon his request. She described to him some of the context behind the photographs, of old memories that were clear in her mind, but were completely unknown to him.

"You don't need to push yourself, Steven," she told him when he held his head in his hands. "They said it would take time."

Steven let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. "I know, I just thought there would be at least something I'd be able to recognize or familiar with." He glanced over at her. "Thank you, for doing this, though. I really appreciate it."

Cynthia returned the gesture and said, "Of course, I'd love to help in any way I can."

It was when she reached towards the table, to put down one of the photos, that his eyes fixated on a ring worn on her left hand. He didn't feel particularly drawn to it, per se, but he did know exactly what it was supposed to be.

Cynthia caught wind of what he was staring at and showed it to him.

"This was the ring you used to propose to me," she said.

"That diamond is remarkably beautiful."

"I think so too." She was smiling a little sadly at the object in question. "You never happened to mention it, but I had a feeling you found this gem and had it cut specifically for the occasion."

And as she turned the ring on her finger, the sudden question of why she hadn't taken it off came to mind – but he wasn't about to ask her, no matter how curious he was.

The thought of it made his heart ache.

Cynthia could hear him speaking to someone on the phone somewhere in the house, as she descended the staircase of their home. She followed the sound of his voice, leading into the living room, and nearly bumped her leg into the corner edge of a table. Mornings never really were her favourite time of day.

When she lifted her left hand to cover her mouth as she yawned, her drowsiness instantly faded at the sight of the diamond ring that was now set upon her ring finger. That was right – Steven had given it to her, just the night before. All of the warmth and joy she had felt came rushing back to her at the memory of it all: his sincere gaze, his moving words, and the final moment when he got down on one knee in front of her to ask her the big question.

Cynthia really couldn't believe it was possible to be so overjoyed as she was.

Her eyes glanced up from the ring to her partner standing across the room by the windows, of who was looking at her just as similarly with that tender and loving smile of his. She strode over and gently wrapped her arms around him, letting herself lean against him out of comfort.

One of his arms immediately came around her as he spoke again into the phone he was holding. "Sorry, Wallace, I'm going to have to call you back."

But before Steven hung up, his friend's voice echoed loudly enough through the speaker for Cynthia to hear him say, "What? But you didn't finish the story, Steven. Steven! Wait, is Cynthia there? Tell her I say -!"

Cynthia could only laugh when Steven ended the call and tossed the phone onto the couch. Both of his arms then came around her when he leaned down to kiss her, to which she reciprocated happily and earnestly.

"You really didn't have to hang up," she chastised him when they parted. "I could have waited until you were done."

"It's alright, I've been on the phone with him since early this morning, anyway," he explained. "He called me and demanded that I tell him everything that happened last night."

Cynthia raised a curious brow. "Did Wallace already know you were going to propose?"

He was already nodding before she finished. The smile on his face grew sheepish. "I…may or may not have asked him for some pointers, actually."

She laughed. "And do I even want to know what he happened to tell you?"

"I think there are some things that are probably better left unsaid."

"Hard to believe that he was in an accident just a few months ago," Wallace said to her from across the table they sat at. "I always did used to tell him his rock obsession would come back to bite him, one day."

Cynthia only managed a weak smile at his attempt to poke fun at Steven. The gym leader in question had come all the way from Hoenn to see how his old friend was doing. But it hurt her to find out that he still remembered who Wallace was.

"He seemed well when I spoke with him," Wallace pointed out. "I had to bring him up to date with some things that happened in Hoenn, though. You should have seen his face when I mentioned that Winona and I are expecting."

"How is Winona, by the way?"

At the mere mention of his wife, Wallace's smile grew tenfold. "She's doing well," he said, happily. "Nearly seven weeks in, or so, but she's well." His voice dropped in volume. "Though, I must ask: is it normal for pregnant women to be so emotional during this period? Because I've never seen Winona cry over a piece of burnt toast before."

That managed to garner a genuine laugh from the Sinnoh champion. "It's completely normal behaviour, Wallace, don't worry. I've heard of many other stories like that before."

Wallace broke into a grin. "Well, it took me off guard, let me tell you." And then his eyes seemed to soften and his tone grew sincere when he added, "I told Steven we wanted him to be the godfather."

Her gaze softened. "Oh, Wallace, that's…that's wonderful of you both to have chosen him for that role."

"He was over the moon about it, yeah." Wallace paused for a moment. "He…happened to ask about you, as well."

Cynthia's eyes widened. "Did he?"

Her friend nodded in response. "Just about how things used to be, between the both of you," he said. "I told him you two were the very definition of a couple in love, and how sickening it was to look at the both of you, sometimes – which I mean in the best way possible." He grinned at the rather unamused look she was sending him. "But I also told him how dedicated and committed you both were to each other. And I truly believe that that is something that won't just disappear.

"Things will get better, Cynthia," he told her. "I know they will."

"How long will you be away?"

"A week, at most. Byron said we shouldn't be there for too long." He pushed back the hair covering her eyes, cupping her face in his warm hands. "But I promise to call you once I get there and every evening, after that."

There was a familiar aroma in the house when she entered, after taking care of duties, and the like, back at the League.

Cynthia had wandered into the kitchen and was met with the sight of Steven's back to her as he stood in front of the stove – stirring something in a pot, it seemed. Over the weeks that followed the incident, he'd slowly gotten into a routine of familiarizing himself with everything in the house (she was glad he happened to take to the kitchen a lot because Arceus only knew how she'd survive off her own cooking skills).

He looked over his shoulder when she greeted him.

"How was your day?" he asked as she came up next to him.

"Thankfully, not as busy as yesterday," she replied and peered inside the metal pot. She smiled at the sight of the light pink mixture he'd been stirring. "Poffins?"

Steven nodded. "We were a little low in stock in the pantry, when I checked earlier," he explained, "and some of the pokémon were getting a little antsy. I figured I'd restock and make some more for them."

"You seem to have made quite a number of them, too," she pointed out as she looked across to the island counter that had several batches of poffins, in many different colours, on top. Her eyes widened when she spotted a batch of red ones tinged with pink. "Oh, and you even made spicy-sweet ones."

He glanced over to where she was looking at. "Ah, those just came to mind on the spot, really. I was only experimenting with those."

But she gave him a sincere smile. "Those are Garchomp's favourite."

It was only a small memory for him to remember (he'd been mentioning a lot of them to her, as of late), but still she felt hopeful.

A momentary pause came between them where they simply locked eyes with one another. She really missed being able to just look at him like that.

He cleared his throat to break the silence. "Uh, would you be willing to help me with some of this?"

"Help you –?" She blushed and stepped back from the stove, holding up her hands in front of her. "Oh, I…don't think that would be a good idea, actually."

Steven raised a brow. "Why is that?"

She avoided his gaze. The recollection of it was more than slightly embarrassing for her. "Let's just say an incident involving a…small fire, in this very kitchen, might have gotten me banned from ever using the stove again."

"'Banned' you?" He was obviously confused. "Who would ever…?"

"You did."

"I – me?"

When Cynthia looked back at him, the dumbfounded expression on his face was enough to garner a laugh from her. "You told me to leave all the cooking to you, from then on, if the stove was ever involved."

Steven ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know what to say…" Then he began to grin. "Well, I suppose if you'd let me, I could guide you along. It's really only stirring that I ask for."

She seemed to hesitate as she looked from him to the wooden spoon in his hand, before realizing how awfully foolish she must have appeared to be turning down his offer to just stir.

"I…suppose I could try."

The mixture was close to being done, by the time she took control of the stirring. But she felt Steven's hand gently gripping hers as he corrected the speed at which she'd been going at.

"It won't overflow but you'll still want to stir a little faster so it doesn't burn," he said. He was standing behind her, close enough in that she could lean back against him, if she wanted to.

"I'm rather surprised by how much faith you have in me," Cynthia mused.

"Did I never offer to teach you before?"

"On a few occasions, maybe, but otherwise, cooking was all left to you, which was never a problem since your skills far surpass mine."

She could hear the amusement in his voice. "I suppose we all have to start somewhere, then."

He was far closer to her than she had anticipated when she turned her head. And for a fleeting moment, her eyes flicked directly to his lips when the urge to kiss him was at the forefront of her thoughts. But she knew she'd have to hold back – for both their sakes.

Except, before she could even form the thought of breaking his gaze, he leaned forward and met her lips with his.

There was absolutely no time in between for her to think about what compelled him to have kissed her before she gave in and pressed forward. It had been so long since she had last kissed him. All of the warmth and wholeness of the feeling came rushing back – if only for that one moment.

The smell of something burning brought her back to her senses, and she tore away from him to quickly turn off the stove and move the pot over. Her heart had been beating rapidly from those few seconds, but when she looked back at him and noticed the confliction in his eyes, her face fell.

The magnitude of what just transpired began to sink in.

"Arceus, that was…that was my fault, forgive me…I shouldn't have done that," he said, stepping away and avoiding her gaze.

But Cynthia shook her head. He had no right to be feeling guilty. "You don't need to apologize, Steven." Her voice became quiet. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel the same thing."

"–an you hear me, Steven? Hey, you're going to be alright, got it? Someone help me get him on the stretcher!"

He could barely keep his eyes open but he felt multiple pairs of hands lifting him and then his backside hitting something soft. He listened to someone (Byron?) shouting orders somewhere close by. But that was all he could do – simply listen to the multitude of voices around him, frantically speaking and communicating with one another at the same time.

"…wrap his shoulder with the gauze, over there…"

"…it'll take a bit of time, but we can get him to the hospital in Hearthome the quickest, once the helicopter…"

"Be careful with his head!"

He couldn't process anything else other than the excruciating pain that was shooting up from all over, of which he let out a loud groan in protest. He could barely keep his thoughts in order when so many unanswered questions arose in his head. Why was there so much pain? Why was everyone so frantic around him? What had happened?

He was only half-conscious by the time he heard the sound of rotating blades and felt large gusts of wind billowing in the vicinity, from what sounded like a helicopter hovering in midair. He would have blacked out altogether before that had it not been for the urgency in Byron's voice, next to him, telling him, "Stay with me, Stone, do you hear me? You have a wedding coming up and I'll be damned if you're not there at that altar to see your fiancée, on that day."

His heart fell at the thought of her.

He wondered if he was even going to make it at all.

How he wished he could speak out or even whisper his words into the wind, to know they'd reach the ears of the one he sought after.

His thoughts grew hazy and muddled together. He could feel himself on the verge of losing consciousness.

And it was her smile that was the last thing to flash in his mind before he blacked out.

Steven was breathing hard, when he awoke with a start.

His most recent dream felt so real. The rocks that came tumbling down on him being the last thing he remembered before he woke. The thought of it made his head throb.

As of late, his nights were filled with dreams that held bouts of familiarity in them, some of them having become a reoccurrence, in the past couple of months.

He often dreamt of a warm body pressed to his side, while he ran his fingers through smooth tresses, or of moments in which he could feel himself bursting with happiness - most of which seemed to involve Cynthia, in some form or another. He had a feeling his conscience was showing him signs of some of his memory patching back together.

Steven put a hand to his head as he stared up at the ceiling in his bedroom. It was the middle of the night and he was exhausted. Though, after that last dream (which wasn't the first time he'd dreamt it) he knew there was no falling back to sleep so quickly.

But he had an urge of preparing something warm to drink – a familiar recipe that he'd used before – that would help him relax enough to feel tired again. It was a special herbal tea that would help but he couldn't recall how even knew about it.

Still, with that in mind, he slipped out of bed to wander out of the room. With all the lights turned off in the house he carefully guided himself down the hallway when he spotted a faint glow of light all the way down the other end. He quickly recognized it to be Cynthia's study that still had the lights on.

A pang of remorse struck him.

He hadn't forgotten about what had transpired down in the kitchen hours ago, how he probably created more tension between them when he thought things were starting to look up. It had been an act out of impulse, when he kissed her, like it had been almost second nature to him. And he knew they had been a couple – but he just felt so guilty about it.

He wanted to say he could remember everything, instead of the bits of what he had in his mind, because the look of solemnity on her face hadn't been hard to miss. He worried that things were a lot more complicated now.

Steven neared the door to her study and was mostly expecting her to have forgotten to turn the lights off before she went to bed. But instead, as he quietly peered in, she was curled up on a sofa completely focused on a large book in her lap. He made to back out when he noticed her presence, to avoid disturbing her, but the door had let out a creak and Cynthia's head shot up from her book, in reaction to the noise.

"Steven?"

He slowly made his presence known and entered the room – bookcases lined the walls where hundreds of books were stored on their shelves. On the surfaces of desks and tables (and some on the floor) were stacks of papers and notebooks scattered about. She did happen to mention her avid interest in history before, and her tendency for her spaces to be disorganized when her inspiration peaked. But seeing it before his own eyes was endearing.

"Ah, I apologize," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to disturb you, I thought you might have left the lights on in here."

"Oh, it's no problem," she assured him, closing the book she held to set it down next to her. "I couldn't seem to fall asleep so I came in here."

He managed a small smile. "Neither could I, in fact."

Their short responses to each other left him feeling somewhat apprehensive. There definitely was some tension in the air. And Steven thought of excusing himself and making his leave before he happened to spot something of interest sitting on one of the bookshelves, just next to where he stood.

He stepped closer – aware that her eyes followed him – and picked up the object in question.

"That was a gift," he heard her say after he took a moment to examine the smooth stone in his hand. "from you, a couple years back."

He raised a brow. "I gave you a rock as a gift?"

Cynthia smiled. "Perhaps 'gifted' isn't the right word," she corrected. "We happened to come across it together when we visited the Underground." She gave out a small laugh when her cheeks took on a faint pink hue. "You said it possessed beauty the likes of this world has never seen, and that if you had to do a comparison – it was much like me."

He felt his own cheeks grow pink, as well, as he gave the stone another look over.

She had come closer to him when he placed the stone back on its shelf. And looking at her then, he could clearly see where he had been going with that comparison of the stone – the stone itself was a rare beauty on its own. Coming across such a rarity would have been a stroke of luck for rock enthusiasts, like him. And just like the stone, out of the billions of people in the world, Cynthia was a rare beauty, herself – inside and out.

"I can't apologize enough for what happened earlier," he slipped out and noticed the way her eyes seemed to widen by his sudden change of topic.

But again, like before, she shook her head. "There's no need to, Steven."

Steven let out a sigh and began to speak his thoughts. "There hasn't been a day that's gone by where I don't regret what happened to me. I – we – wouldn't have found ourselves in a situation like this, otherwise." He paused. "My memories may not be as they once were, but I really do hope they return, so that I may remember everything – especially you."

They were looking at each other now.

"But even if you don't…" she started but paused to think over her next words. "…I wouldn't want to stand in your way of living the way you'd like to, if trying to remember brings you great struggle. I'd hate to see you be unhappy like this."

"I'm not, though."

He could see the question in her eyes.

"These past several weeks havebeen difficult in trying to piece things together, yes, and I do wish that it never happened," he said. "But I'm not, by all means, unhappy. I've learned so much, and I know there's still much more for me to figure out, however long it takes.

"And I would still like it if you would continue to be a part of this whole…healing process," he continued. "I'd like to relearn everything about you and about us, because I know you were very dear to me. You still are."

It was the truth, after all.

She was the missing part of his memories since the beginning and to never have that resolved was simply unthinkable. It would have haunted him for the rest of his days.

Her eyes grew glossy as she processed his words, but they never strayed from his once she spoke. "You don't even have to ask because my answer is yes."

She was so sincere with her words, there wasn't a doubt in mind that she didn't truly mean them. It was like a wave of relief.

Because even now, she chose him.

"I've never been the happiest in my life than when I'm with you…so I would never forgive myself otherwise if I just…up and left," she said quietly, her voice threatened to crack from unshed tears. "I still care for you…and I always will."

He now realized all those fragments of memories of her that he remembered and dreamed of told him how much he had loved her. Perhaps the possibility of experiencing it all over again didn't seem all too out of reach.

For the thought of either one of them parting ways was incomprehensible.

And when he told her as much, the tears she tried to hold back came falling. Her arms came around herself as she bowed her head to hide them.

But Steven didn't have to think twice about reaching out to envelop her in his arms, letting her cling to him as she freely cried into his chest.

It felt nostalgic to hold her like that, whispering words of comfort and to just be her anchor in that moment.

She'd been so strong and so patient these past several months – he couldn't even begin to imagine how much emotion she chose to keep bottled up inside. Realizing the weight of everything he had put her through, this whole time, and seeing her in the state she was in, just broke his heart.

He truly wanted nothing more than to be able to take all that pain away. Because deep down, he knew he still loved her.

Minutes passed before Cynthia began to calm down and her sobbing had mostly subsided. She slowly pulled back from him when a few stray tears fell down her cheeks and Steven instinctively reached out to brush them away.

There was a hint of a shy smile when she glanced down and his heart fluttered at the sight.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"I think I should be thanking you, as well," Steven said, tucking her long fringe behind her ear. The gesture was seamless, like he'd done it so many times before. "But words cannot express how lucky I feel to have you by my side."

A faint blush coloured her cheeks. "You flatter me too much, Steven." Her voice held a hint of embarrassment. "Even now."

This time, when she leaned into him and lay her head against his chest, Steven loosely wrapped his arms around her, in turn. It felt so right to just hold each other, with nothing more needing to be said in that moment.

He didn't think it was possible to miss a feeling he hadn't even known about.

But it was nice.

"Will you be staying up much longer?" he asked when she decided to pull back from their embrace. He was missing the warmth of her body against his, already.

She sniffled and wiped at her own cheeks with her sleeve. "To be honest, I'm feeling even more awake than before," Cynthia replied with a faint laugh. "Why do you ask?"

Steven rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. "I was, uh, thinking of going downstairs to make this tea that's supposed to help with sleep." He furrowed his brows slightly in contemplation and added, "It's strange, though. I've never been much of a tea drinker before – from what I recall, at least."

His words garnered him a fond smile from her that had him mirroring her expression. "You're probably thinking of my grandmother's recipe," she explained. "You and I…we used to make it on late nights like these when sleep eluded the both of us."

It was like a light bulb turning on in Steven's head at the recollection. "That…makes a lot more sense now, actually." He nodded his head towards the door. "Would you care to join me for some downstairs, then?"

Holding out his hand for her to take in offering seemed like a simple gesture. And it was. But it spoke volumes once she accepted and their fingers promptly laced together, without hesitation. That familiar warmth between them came flowing back.

"I would love to."

fin

.

.

.

.

So I posted this to my tumblr three years ago and realized I never uploaded it here. Decided to change a few things and added an extra 700 words (hmu if you're interested in the old one I guess – this one is way better though), but I hope you enjoyed the dramatic angst. Thanks for reading!