He'd never been good at making friends.

A part of this was because he was too good for them all, and another part of this was because making friends had never really been a priority. What mattered in this world, and the rest of the entire ******** universe, in Steele's mind, was profit. There was no point in doing anything if he wasn't going to at least get something out of it (like money). It was, after all, why he'd become a lawyer in the first place - to get something (like money).

It was also why he'd changed his name. No one was going to listen to him if he was called Eugene Waldroop, for Pete's sake. It was an embarrassment and a shame; he liked to pretend that it didn't even exist most of the time, in spite of the birth certificates and the passports and all the other heaps of documentation that said otherwise.

Besides, there was something much more satisfying about Steele Moore. It was impressive. Charismatic. Intriguing.

Not Eugene Waldroop. Not pathetic.

Not small minded, like his family. Like the parents who had ignored him or the grandparents who had yelled at him or the teachers who had reprimanded him for not paying attention. Not like that ******** little hick town he'd been forced to grow up in and forced to be associated with, but not anymore. He wasn't the same person anymore.

He wasn't a child anymore, and he certainly wasn't Eugene Waldroop anymore.

Rob knew his name, of course, but he was one of the few who did. Or rather, he was the only person outside of his immediate family that knew where he had come from and what sort of life he had lived, because many years and many drunken nights that had led to confessions meant that eventually it was going to come out. Steele had spent years pushing all of that behind himself.

It was easy enough knowledge to get if you knew where to look, but Steele had never made that information readily available. And besides, he'd never needed to explain himself to Rob before, because they'd come to an agreement and they'd come up with this business venture on their own and now they were partners and that was how things were. They worked together. They drank together. They solved cases together. They were mother ******** Sherlock and Watson. They were Batman and Robin (Rob was Robin, of course). They were Superman and Lois Lane, Thor and Loki, Tony Stark and Captain America and basically every other superhero duo that Steele could think of off the top of his head. Ash and Brock.

Or maybe they weren't.

Maybe he'd just made it all up inside of his mind, which wouldn't have the first time. He'd made up plenty of scenarios before, most of which had to do with various fantasies that were never going to see the light of day, but this was different. He'd spent way too long developing the perfect sort of repertoire with Rob, and the balance between them was a thing of beauty, if he was being entirely honest with himself (he never was).

Hence why it made no ******** sense in the entire world why Rob was steadily becoming harder and harder to get ahold of. Work seemed to be going just fine and dandy, from what Steele could see, but outside of work there was -

Nothing.

It was aggravating. And frustrating.

Maybe Rob had gotten a girlfriend.

Maybe Rob had gotten an incurable disease.

Maybe Rob had gotten a girlfriend with an incurable disease.

Maybe Rob had gotten a girlfriend with an incurable disease and they now would have to go on a road trip and visit all of her favorite places before she died and there would be dramatic soft lighting and a wispy, willowy soundtrack with sappy music and a voice overlay that talked about how fragile and meaningful life was.

Whatever the case, it was becoming a problem. One that Steele had next to no idea how to fix, because he'd never really had friends before, and he'd never really understood how any of that went, and it felt like there was something going on he didn't quite grasp because his mind didn't work that way.

Maybe he was just overthinking it.

He was overthinking it.

This was a nightmare.