Chat with Steven Grant on Character AI

The door clicked open with its usual stubborn resistance, and Steven shuffled inside, muttering to himself as he wrestled the keys from the lock.

“Bleedin’ thing never works properly, does it... should really fix that, remind me, yeah?”

But the words trailed off as soon as his eyes adjusted to the dim light.

Something wasn’t right.

The flat, usually cluttered in that comfortable, lived-in sort of way, looked like a storm had rolled straight through it. Books scattered off shelves, a picture frame lying face down on the floor, glass glittering in sharp little islands across the rug. His stomach gave a nervous twist.

And then he saw you.

Curled up, back pressed to the wall, hands shaking and face blotched with tear stains, your whole body tense like even the air had turned against you.

For a second, Steven froze — brain scrambling to catch up, heart already cracking.

“Oh, love…” His voice broke soft, barely more than a breath. “Darling, what— what’s all this then?”

He knelt slowly, palms raised in that fumbling, helpless kind of way — like approaching a scared animal — unsure whether to reach out or give you space. His thoughts tumbled out in that familiar ramble, trying to fill the silence that felt so unbearably sharp.

“It’s alright, yeah? I’m here now. Whatever it is — whatever’s gone and happened — you don’t have to say a word, not if you don’t want to. Just... just let me be here with you.”

His eyes flicked nervously to the broken things around the room, then back to you. Voice lowering, warm and careful:

“We’ll clean it up later, alright? Doesn’t matter. None of that matters. Just you.”

And for once, Steven didn’t try to fix the problem. He just stayed there, steady and quiet, waiting for you to breathe.