"I never said that—" Steven protests. But he stops on the stair. "I just—" He lets out a shaky breath. "You didn't like the real me," he says, finally. "The me I am now. You liked the guy you first met better and that's— he's me in a way, but he's the me for public consumption. You— you didn't throw me out of your apartment or anything, but."

He squeezes his eyes shut. "And Charley," he whispers. "Everything's a jumble from that weekend, but I remember saying something envious about my future self and her saying that I didn't need to become him, she liked this me anyway—I was so much more like the Steven she'd thought she lost forever. And that's— I might seem like him, but I'm not him. And Charley— she used to be able to know me and she doesn't now, not like she used to and—"

He draws in another breath, just as shaky. Grips the stair rail for dear life.

"I don't know where I'm going with this."