(no subject)

[takecourage]

It's shit, but life goes on. Alex goes through the motions -- she hands Edie over to the nanny, she goes to work, she thinks about drugs, she comes home. The work she does at the club varies; most of the time she's in the office, sometimes she's behind the bar and, sometimes, she's up on the stage or weaving in between the booths and couches. Tonight, one of her dancers hasn't turned up, so she does her makeup over the sink in her bathroom, fluffs her hair, hoists her tits into a sequined bra. She dances, her skin sheened with sweat and glitter and, whenever someone offers her a drink, she takes it.

It's after midnight when she leaves the club, t-shirt and sweats pulled on over the gear she was dancing in, feet shoved into her loosely laced boots. She doesn't want to go home -- not to the apartment at Dimera, and definitely not back to Black Elm, where her little girl lies sleeping. She's pretty limited on where she can go, honestly, her circle shrunk, but then she has an idea, and she pivots on her heel, heading in the opposite direction.

A few minutes later, having slipped in to the building as a delivery driver left, Alex finds herself leaning her forehead against his front door, knocking with her whole fist.

"C'mon, Steve," she says, through gritted teeth. "Be home, buddy."

Comments

[haplesshairpile]

That’s the thing; life goes on whether Steve wants it to or not.

He used to think that losing Nancy was heartbreak. Shattering heartbreak. It’s nothing compared to this. It wasn’t even a splinter. Losing Maeve, that’s heartbreak.

And it wasn’t even like she dumped him. It’s not like they made a decision to part ways. She was just gone one day and it wasn’t her choice. She just disappeared, like she was ripped right out of Steve’s heart itself, leaving it tattered and bleeding. He’s been beaten to a bloody pulp, been tortured and abandoned and forgotten about, but all of that was nothing compared to this.

He sort of wants to die. He’s not suicidal or anything. He wouldn’t try to actually hurt himself. He just— he wants to not exist for a little while. He wants a break from how much it hurts.

Steve has the house to himself. He doesn’t know where Robin and Rue are. They’re out somewhere, probably sick of his perpetual storm cloud energy. He wouldn’t blame them, honestly.

He’s on the couch in a pair of black sweatpants, holding a bottle of whiskey while not-watching some shitty action movie. It’s pathetic. He’s a total cliche. Maeve would probably kick his ass if she could see him. But she can’t and that’s the problem. She’s gone.

There’s a loud knock at the door and Steve jumps a little, dragging his fingers through his messy hair as he pulls himself to his feet. He assumes Robin forgot her keys or something, considering how late it is, but he pauses when he hears Alex’s voice.

He had heard about what happened and honestly, he was kind of numb to it at the time. Sort of an asshole thing to be, sure. But he only has room for so much.

Steve swallows hard and opens the door, brow furrowing as he looks down at Alex’s face. She looks as miserable as he feels, and he sort of wants to cry, but he doesn’t. He’s not even sure if he can at this point.

“Hey,” he says quietly, voice raspy from lack of use, and then steps aside to let her in.