Chapter Text
Unsurprisingly enough, Marc did not have the best hold on anything that happened after the death of his little brother, Randall. And it's best to emphasize this because he didn't only create Steven and Jake, but another alter that also lived among them.
Andrew.
No last name or anything, just… Andrew.
He was the last alter created, but he didn't come out until the main body was already twenty-eight, until they were safe.
It started out slow. A couple of missing time periods here and there, but Marc always assumed it was Steven and let him roam until anxiety crept up and shoved the alter deeper into his mind. But the thing is, the child alter wasn't that easily put down.
Like most children, Andrew defied and explored without Marc's knowledge, gathering his own toys and favorite foods, learning how to hide them efficiently by looking things up on the web.
Andrew knew of the other alters, including Jake, as he learned about Steven through Jake, though the angrier alter never sensed the nosy kid. And that was a good thing; Andrew was there to take over and enjoy his childish existence while the three alters rested from whatever they needed to recharge from.
What bothered Andrew, though, was that Marc constantly shoved Steven down or locked him away, never letting him emerge. And he noticed that he never did that with Jake, easily letting the taxi driver take over to finish a fight or to earn them money (that Marc thought grew on trees, or that he just got lucky and found).
Jake was not known at all by Marc, Andrew realized, and he wanted to meet Jake and try to know at least one of the alters. But Jake was untouchable, blocked by whatever force deflected Andrew, despite Andrew also holding onto a ton of baggage that Jake could not even handle, having tossed it aside like it was the plague. Tossed to the side that Andrew was on, hiding and making his home on the pile of horrid memories of their childhood, only graced with a few of the good ones that ended up forgotten.
As the body grew, Andrew felt himself able to come out more, especially around the pretty lady called Layla. She was kind and understanding, even if she was confused when Andrew introduced himself. He thinks that she thought it was another one of Marc's silly ways of opening up to her, but that obviously wasn't the case. And through mirrors, behind the corners of objects reflected, Andrew watched Marc look around for someone Layla had described or teased him about.
He was looking for him, though he didn't know specifically who to even look for.
After that mishap, Andrew only came out when Layla was away or Marc and Jake were asleep. It was sneaky, and he hated being sneaky, but he also didn't want Marc to be embarrassed or confused because that would alert Jake, and then he really would be found. Though that's all the child alter wanted, right? To be found? He's not sure anymore.
And Khonsu was a completely different story.
Andrew actually manifested after a particularly harsh mission, where both Marc and Jake were out of commission and Steven was still locked deep into their shared mind, so Andrew slowly came up and screamed when a big bird-man appeared before him. The confusing part for Andrew about the creature, however, was that the tall being didn't yell at him like he did Jake or Marc, as he gathered from how the body automatically went into a 'cower mode.' Instead, the… thing… laughed, echoing through the sandy desert, and vanished into the night sky.
It was terrifying, but Andrew was just glad he never saw it again.
And the following years were spent watching from the sidelines, occasionally coming out when all three — finally, Steven was back — were asleep or retreated far back into the mind and disconnected from the body for a bit. It was weird for Andrew because all he wanted was for the others to know about his existence, to accept him, and understand him as they all did for one another. To know he was there for Marc as well; to care for him when he knew it became too much to deal with, needing someone else to handle the reins of his life.
But he stayed hidden, watching the three console one another through the mirrors or in Steven's part of their mind, longing for the three he saw as his older brothers and equal protectors to take care of him in return; to accept him.
———
"Jake, no. Stay," Andrew watched as Steven neared his hiding spot, locking on with soft, kind, and welcoming eyes while telling the confused Spanish man to "stay put," like a dog. Andrew found himself wanting to laugh, but he remained quiet, as his dream and worst fear were coming true.
He was found.
Steven stepped closer, cautious in his movements as he stuck out a hand like he was luring out another dog or cat.
Huh, guess so.
"I'm trying to lure him out."
"Who?" Marc looked over to where Andrew was hiding, and the child felt his breath catch, his body stilling as he watched the others' eyes pass over him and back to Steven, his brow raising in confusion, his body tensing.
Steven finally stopped directly in front of Andrew, who was still hiding behind the closet door, a pile of books and the lounge chair positioned next to it, moving out to hide behind them instead. "The little boy that lives with us," Steven breathed out, his voice softer as he tilted his head with a soft smile directed at the hiding child.
Andrew's heart was pounding in his chest, and his hands started to sweat. He eyed the hand still outstretched, now with the palm facing the ceiling instead of the ground, feeling his arm twitch to reach out and grab it with his own, much smaller hand.
A small gasp met Andrew's ears, and he looked up to find Marc and Jake stilled, with Jake looking confused and upset that he didn't know about his existence, while Marc was pale, as if he wanted to pass out. He didn't know what to make of the faces of the more rugged alters compared to Steven, who managed to come closer without Andrew noticing. At that, the child backed away, accidentally knocking over the books behind him, causing Marc and Jake to tense further, and Steven quickly jumped toward Andrew to pull him from the pile that fell forward rather than backward.
———
Steven lunged forward to grab the kid, pulling him into his chest as the multitude of textbooks and his own interests toppled over.
I really need to organize…
Looking down at the boy now in his lap, slightly shaking and hiding his face, Steven really took in how young this boy was. Maybe not even seven or eight years old. He frowned, also taking note of the clothes and how they were bigger on him, and how they looked oddly familiar. Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed that Marc was wearing a ratty graphic T-shirt as well, and he smiled fondly.
Marc, still pale as a ghost, slowly felt himself come back from his spiral of thoughts, his nose scrunching at Steven's smile. His stomach clenched uncomfortably, and his color was coming back in the form of a blush from the sudden attention. "What're you looking at, Steven?"
"You," the curly-haired alter's smile widened further, and Marc noticed that his hand was gently brushing the little boy's curls, holding him closer and shielding the boy's face from him and Jake. "He's the one who steals your shirts, Marc, look." Steven shifted his torso to try to face Marc, showing the exact T-shirt he had been looking for since last week.
Marc's legs itched to move closer, but he was scared to spook the kid; no, he was terrified that he would end up running if he started to move. He was lost in his own clouded thoughts that he forgot about Jake's existence until the taxi driver stepped closer to Steven and the little boy, his hands clenched into fists, but Marc noticed that he was trembling.
Kneeling beside Steven, Jake was facing the little boy's back as he buried his face further into Steven's chest. The sweater proved an immediate relaxer for him, just like it did for Marc and Jake.
"Hey," Jake's voice was gruff, strained. He cleared his throat, fully sitting on the floor now as he tried to appear less threatening. "What's your name?"
Steven was grateful Jake used English for the little boy, as they didn't know if he would freak out with a different language, or if he even knew what Jake was saying.
It took a while for the boy to answer, but he eventually turned his head from where it was buried in Steven's sweater, his eyes full of caution and fear, as if he were deciding to run or hide once more.
"A-Andrew…" his voice was timid, small.
Steven never stopped smiling since he started holding Andrew. How could he stop? He was holding an adorable child, another alter at that, and he seemed to be relaxed in Steven's hold. "Andrew? Love that name," he cooed, his hand brushing back the curls that fell on the boy's face, his other hand rubbing gentle circles on his back protectively. "And how old are you?"
"Well, uhm," Andrew's voice quieted as he shifted to sit more upright, looking into his lap now where his hands played together. Steven's hold shifted, dropping his hand from the boy's soft curls in favor of resting on the hardwood.
"I'm… well, right now I'm seven…"
The other three froze.
Marc stumbled back onto the bed, plopping down with the sound of the comforter deflating, and Jake swayed where he sat. Steven's brows furrowed, evident confusion.
"What do you mean right now?"