A year had passed. A year since the night that changed Steven's
life forever. The constant struggle of living with the curse he unknowingly signed into. The internal battle between his humanity and the infernal Rider had become routine for Steven. At first, the overwhelming darkness was like a shadow looming over every step, but now, it was just another part of his existence.
He had learned to live with the haunting visions, the warnings, and the voice of the old man echoing in his mind. The memories of his uncle Larry's death and the torment he felt at the hands of Mephistopheles no longer had the same sting. They were buried beneath layers of apathy and numbness. He ignored the warning signs, just as he had learned to ignore the faint whispers in his ear, telling him that the Rider was always waiting for a chance to take full control.
The constant feelings of anxiety and depression were like old friends now—familiar and persistent, ever-present but no longer as overwhelming. It was a grim routine: wake up, fight the internal darkness, try to carry on, but always feeling like he was walking through a fog, as though nothing mattered anymore. Nothing but the power he had inherited and the curse it carried with it.
Steven stepped into the bathroom, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the day. He glanced at the mirror, catching sight of his reflection. His eyes were dull, his face pale. When he removed his shirt, he froze.
There it was again. A faint scar near his waist, barely visible but oddly persistent. He frowned, running his fingers over it. "Must've been from work," he muttered to himself, brushing it off. He had no time to think about insignificant marks; his life had been nothing but a series of strange occurrences lately.
Shaking his head, Steven undressed completely and stepped into the shower. The water poured over his skin, washing away the grime of the day. For the first time in hours, he felt a fleeting moment of comfort. The cold water eased his aching muscles, and for a few brief seconds, he closed his eyes, letting himself relax.
But then the peace shattered.
A soft knock echoed from the front door, followed by a familiar voice calling out, "Steven?"
His eyes shot open. Kristina.
He cursed under his breath. Of course, it was her—her usual visits had become a routine over the past year. She had a knack for showing up unannounced, her cheerful presence a stark contrast to his dark, brooding thoughts. But now? Now was the worst possible time.
Steven's voice rose over the sound of the water. "Uh, give me a second!"
Kristina didn't wait. She pushed open the door and stepped inside the house, her footsteps light but deliberate. "Steven, are you okay? You weren't answering your phone."
He groaned silently, looking around the small bathroom for anything he could wear. But all he had were his wet clothes sitting in a bucket by the corner. He hadn't planned on visitors—not now, not ever.
"I'm in the bathroom," he called out, trying to sound casual. "Just wait for me in the living room."
"Okay," she replied, her voice softer now. He heard her sit on the sofa, her movements gentle and unassuming.
Steven turned off the shower, water dripping from his hair and body. He sighed, knowing he had no choice but to face her. Quietly, he cracked the bathroom door open and peeked out. Kristina had her back to him, scrolling absentmindedly on her phone.
He stepped out carefully, completely naked, his footsteps light as he darted toward his room. The floor creaked faintly, but Kristina didn't notice, too absorbed in whatever was on her screen. Relief washed over him as he slipped into his room unnoticed, quickly throwing on a pair of jeans and a shirt.
Moments later, Steven walked into the living room, his damp hair still clinging to his forehead. "Hey," he said, his voice a mix of awkwardness and forced nonchalance.
Kristina looked up, her eyes immediately softening. "Hey. You look... tired."
"Yeah, it's been a day," he replied, sitting down across from her.
She tilted her head, studying him. "Steven, you're not your usual self. You're always cracking jokes, making everyone laugh. But now... you're different."
Steven hesitated, avoiding her gaze. He knew she could sense the changes in him, even if she didn't know the full truth. "Just... a lot on my mind, I guess."
Kristina leaned forward, concern etched across her face. "Steven, if something's wrong, you can tell me. You know that, right?"
He nodded but said nothing. The silence hung between them, heavy and unspoken.
Then, her expression shifted. She hesitated before asking, "Steven, can I ask you something?"
"Yeah, sure," he replied, though his chest tightened with unease.
She took a deep breath. "Do you... do you have feelings for anyone?"
The question caught him off guard. He blinked, unsure how to respond. "I—uh—what?"
Kristina smiled softly, her cheeks flushing. "It's just... I need to know. I've been waiting for you to say something, but you never do."
Steven felt his heart race, the air between them suddenly thick with tension. "Kristina, I... I don't know what to say."
But before he could finish, Kristina moved closer. She reached out, placing a hand on his cheek, her touch warm and reassuring. "You don't have to say anything," she whispered.
And then she kissed him.
It wasn't a hesitant kiss. It was powerful, passionate, and full of unspoken emotions. Steven's mind went blank as he gave in, his hands finding her waist. The world around them faded, leaving only the two of them in that moment.
When they finally pulled away, Kristina looked at him with a mix of hope and vulnerability. "You don't have to be alone in this, Steven."
He stared at her, his heart pounding in his chest. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt a flicker of something other than pain or despair.