The next morning, Steven and Mary went out together to buy him some new clothes. They had gone by car—not theirs, since James had taken that one to meet up with some friends. This one was yellow and, for some reason, had been waiting outside the hotel. That was yet another thing Steven would have to ask about later.
As the car moved through the streets of Chicago, Steven kept his eyes glued to the window, his hand tightly holding Mary's. Without the city's flood of emotions suffocating him, Chicago seemed... fascinating. The streets pulsed with life: people rushing by in colorful coats, tall buildings that looked like they touched the sky, shiny store windows filled with things he didn't even know existed. It was nothing like the endless golden fields along the highway, but it was beautiful... in its own way.
The car kept moving for a few more minutes before stopping in front of a stylish store, with mannequins posing behind a wide window, displaying all kinds of clothes and accessories. Mary paid the driver, and Steven quickly followed her out, slightly afraid the man might drive off with him still inside.
"Look, Steven, this is RCHLO—heaven for women and a nightmare for men," Mary said, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous smile.
Steven tilted his head, confused. "Why? Am I in danger?"
Mary brought a hand to her mouth, stifling a laugh. "No, of course not. It's just that... men usually don't like going shopping for clothes with women. We tend to take a long time."
He frowned. "Why?"
"Because choosing is hard," she replied, as if it were obvious, gently pulling him into the store.
Steven didn't understand, but as soon as they walked in, everything became clear. A smiling saleswoman greeted them, guiding them through aisles filled with shelves and racks overflowing with clothes. There were plaid shirts, wide-legged jeans, jackets, wool sweaters in mustard and dark green tones. It was a sea of colors, fabrics, and options that left him stunned. Picking just a few seemed impossible!
The saleswoman, a woman with curly hair and large glasses, began piling up clothes for Steven to try on. "How about this polo shirt? Or maybe a sweater? It's great for fall," she suggested, holding up a bright orange piece that made Steven wrinkle his nose.
"Um... I don't know," Steven murmured, his eyes bouncing between the options, completely lost. A denim jacket hanging on a rack looked cool, but the blue and white striped shirt had caught his eye too. And those brown pants? Or were the gray ones cooler? He brushed his fingers over a t-shirt with a vibrant print of a race car, hesitating. "Which one is... the best?"
Mary let out a light laugh, noticing the confusion written all over his face. "There's no such thing as a 'best one,' Steven. You pick what makes you feel good. Let's try a few and see how they look on you."
The next hour flew by in the blink of an eye, with Steven going in and out of the fitting room, each new outfit bringing a mix of awkwardness and curiosity. At first, he thought it was all a bit silly — the shirts, the shoes, the high-waisted pants, the colorful fabrics. But little by little, he began to see himself in them, as if the clothes were pieces of a new Steven coming together.
Eventually, the saleswoman brought over a black polo shirt and a pair of straight-cut jeans, which Mary approved of with an enthusiastic nod. "How cute! You look like a little city gentleman!" she said excitedly, adjusting his collar.
Steven looked at himself in the mirror, uncertain. "Do I... look nice?"
Mary knelt down to his level, pride surrounding her. "Nice? You're more than nice, Steven. You look amazing!"
A soft smile appeared on Steven's face when he heard that.
"Ohh, your son is just adorable, ma'am," the attendant commented, watching the interaction between them.
"He really is," Mary said with a wide smile.
********
When they left the store, Mary was carrying several shopping bags while Steven held a single one in his left hand — his right hand firmly gripping Mary's wrist. He wasn't sure why she radiated so much happiness mixed with a deep sense of contentment. But if he had to guess, he'd say Mary had always wanted to live moments like that with her son.
They walked along the busy sidewalk until they reached a shop with small, shiny objects displayed in the window. The two of them went inside, and Mary guided him to the counter with a smile. "Hello, my son needs a watch," she said to the clerk, a man with a thin mustache.
"Of course, just a moment..." The man grabbed a yellow measuring tape from behind the counter. "I just need to measure his wrist."
"Steven, raise your arm," Mary instructed, casting a look that made it clear which arm he was supposed to show.
Steven let go of her wrist hesitantly and raised his right arm. The man measured it quickly, disappeared through a door in the back, and after a few minutes, returned with several watches.
Mary examined the options carefully before pointing to the one with the largest strap. "This one." The clerk nodded and began to wrap it up while Mary paid.
From there, they crossed the street and entered a cosmetics store, the air thick with floral perfumes. A clerk wearing bright red lipstick and a high bun came to greet them. "Good morning, miss. Can I help you with anything?" she asked with a smile, but Steven could feel a clear sense of envy and irritation radiating from her toward Mary.
"Yes," Mary replied. "My mother asked me to buy her a concealer, but I forgot which shade she uses. Can you help?"
"I can try. Do you have similar skin?"
"Oh, no, I take after my father. But my son has similar skin. You can use him to find the shade, right?" Mary said, making Steven turn his head toward her, completely lost.
'What is she planning?'
********
Back at the hotel, Mary placed the shopping bags on the bed and pulled Steven toward the couch, holding the concealer and the watch in her other hand. "Now, pay close attention," she said as she opened the concealer tube, dabbed a bit on her finger, and gently turned Steven's left wrist upward. "Starting today, you're going to do this every morning."
With a careful motion, she spread the concealer over the 007. Steven watched, eyes wide, as the mark that had defined his life vanished, leaving behind nothing but smooth, ordinary skin. He leaned in close, then pulled back, then leaned in again, unable to believe what he was seeing. The number that branded him as an experiment, an object, was gone. He was just... Steven.
"Do you understand, Steven?" Mary asked seriously. "No exceptions, okay? Every morning, you do this. And then..." She took the watch and slid the strap over his wrist, completely covering the spot where the tattoo used to be. "You put the watch on top. Got it?"
Steven opened his mouth, but no words came out. His chest felt tight, not from fear, but from something bigger — gratitude, relief, maybe even love. He looked down at his wrist, now hidden beneath the watch, then up at Mary. Without thinking, he threw himself into her arms, hugging her with all the strength his small arms could muster. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice choked, tears streaming freely down his face. "Thank you for everything, Mommy."
********
[2 months later]
The last two months had been a rollercoaster of emotions and discoveries for Steven. Mary had taken it upon herself to teach him general knowledge, introducing everything from the most famous movies to the differences between dollar bills. Each thing he learned was another brick in the construction of his identity, and little by little, he began to feel less like an outsider and more like someone who belonged in society.
He had also accomplished two things he'd wanted badly ever since he saw them in a scientist's memory: swimming and riding a bike. James was reluctant at first to teach him, but eventually gave in after much insistence. The learning process, however, was an adventure on its own. Steven swallowed more water than he'd like to admit and took a few memorable falls off the bike. But he did it.
Still, among everything that had happened, one thing stood out above the rest. For the past two weeks, Steven had been trying something new with his powers: creating some kind of "barrier" to block out emotions. The idea had been sparked by what happened in Chicago, which made it painfully clear just how overwhelming it was to receive the emotions of thousands of people at once.
The problem was, Steven didn't understand his powers beyond what he did by instinct, and trying something that innovative was like flying a plane without a radar. He had no idea what to visualize, how to focus his mind, or what sensation to look for. As a result, every attempt came with a splitting headache, like his brain was being squeezed from the inside out.
Sometimes, he felt a faint tingling, like he was close to something, but the pain would force him to stop, leaving him frustrated and drained. He even started to wonder if he was doing everything wrong—and maybe his powers weren't capable of such a thing. But he didn't give up.
********
[1 month later]
"Okay, cover your eyes," Mary said, full of excitement. Steven obeyed, feeling a bit uneasy about the spray can she was shaking in front of him. He wasn't quite sure what Mary was planning, but according to her, it had something to do with "taming the wild mane" that now grew in messy tufts on his head.
"Relax, Steven, this is going to look amazing," Mary said as she ran the comb through his hair, working out the tangles before releasing three spritzes of the spray. The sweet, chemical scent filled the air, making Steven wrinkle his nose. "You just need three or four sprays. This is the Farrah Fawcett spray—technically for women, but that doesn't matter if it works. You can open your eyes now!"
Steven slowly opened his eyes and turned to the mirror. His reflection startled him. The strands that had grown in uneven waves were now styled into a voluminous haircut, with soft layers falling over his forehead and sides, glistening under the bathroom light.
"And then, you just brush it like this," Mary continued, running the brush through one more time, adding even more shape and volume. "Done! Now you're ready for the whole day. What do you think?"
Steven tilted his head, studying the reflection. "I like it," he said, reaching out to touch his hair, curious about the texture—but Mary gave his hand a light smack.
"No way!"
********
[4 months later]
Steven was a genius—or at least, that's what the tutors James had hired kept calling him. History, geography, math, reading, writing, grammar, or science—it didn't matter what it was, he soaked up knowledge like a sponge.
What should have taken several months to cover the entire elementary school curriculum, Steven mastered in just three.
********
[1 months later – September 15, 1978]
Steven stood in front of the bedroom mirror, frowning at his reflection. "Hmm... nope, I look like a nerd," he muttered, yanking off the plaid button-up shirt and tossing it onto the bed, where three other discarded attempts were already piled up: a polo that was way too bright, a t-shirt with a print that looked childish, and a brown sweater that made him look smaller than he was.
It was his first day of school, and picking the perfect outfit felt like an impossible mission.
He rummaged through the closet, quickly scanning the stack of shirts. Finally, he grabbed a plain gray t-shirt that seemed to go well with the jeans and white sneakers. He took a step back, eyeing his reflection critically. "Okay... I think this works."
Steven then tilted his head to check his hair. The dark brown strands, now longer, were styled with the Farrah Fawcett spray Mary had taught him to use. He ran his fingers through it carefully, making sure every piece was in place. 'I love this hair.'
His gaze dropped to his left wrist, where a brown leather watch covered the 007 tattoo, hidden under a layer of concealer. He adjusted the strap, making sure it was snug, and took a deep breath. "This is gonna be a breeze..."
"Steven, you're gonna be late!" Mary's voice echoed from the kitchen.
"I'm coming!" he shouted back, grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. He ran down the stairs, sneakers thudding fast against the steps, and burst into the kitchen, where the smell of warm pancakes and maple syrup filled the air.
Mary stood by the stove, flipping a pancake with a spatula. "There are some ready," she said, nodding toward the plate on the table.
Steven didn't waste time. He grabbed a pancake with his hands, folded it in half, and stuffed it in his mouth. "Hey! Where are your manners, young man?" Mary exclaimed, raising an eyebrow.
"Sowwy," he mumbled with his mouth full.
Mary shook her head. "If James were here, you'd be getting a lecture till tomorrow."
Steven swallowed with an audible gulp, laughing. "Good thing he isn't," he said, already grabbing another pancake and taking a big bite.
Mary let out an exasperated sigh, but Steven knew she wasn't really annoyed—if anything, the exchange seemed to cheer her up.
She stepped closer, wiping her hands on her apron. "Look, you're not that late, you know? You can eat in peace."
"I wanna get there early," Steven said without slowing down, stuffing another bite in his mouth.
Mary smiled. "Alright, alright. I won't stop you then."
He finished the pancake, wiped his hands on a towel Mary tossed to him, and started heading to the garage. "See you later, mom."
"See you—wait! Did you take your lunch money?"
"Yep!" he replied, already in the garage, where a blue bike leaned against the wall. He hopped on, adjusted the watch on his wrist one more time, and pedaled out of the garage, the September morning sun warming his skin.
The street was quiet, filled with birdsong and the distant hum of a lawnmower. Steven took a deep breath, soaking in the freedom of the moment. "This is gonna be a breeze..."
********
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, images or songs featured in this fic. Additionally, I do not claim ownership of any products or properties mentioned in this novel. This work is entirely fanfic.