Saved By Steven (the first story)

1. Fallen Angels

It was still dark when Lauren stumbled up the cracked steps to her apartment building, heels in one hand, reeking of alcohol and sweet perfume, the other clinging to the sleeve of a man she didn't quite remember meeting. The street was silent, washed in a faint shimmer from the earlier rain,and the only sound was the soft scuff of their footsteps on the damp pavement.

The man said nothing as he guided her up the stairs, one arm firm around her waist, steadying her when she lost her balance. He wasn't talkative. That alone made her trust him more than she probably should have. Tall, clean lines to his jaw, a dark coat. He looked expensive. Out of place.

She fumbled with her keys, missed the lock twice. He gently took them from her hand and opened the door like he'd done it a hundred times. That made her pause — just a flicker — but it was gone as quickly as it came.

Inside, the apartment was still and dim, lit only by the thin glow of the streetlamp pushing through the curtains. She dropped her heels and stumbled toward the bedroom. Her body ached. Her head swam. She didn't look back to see if he followed.
But he did.
She felt the bed dip slightly behind her. Not beside her. Behind. Like he was watching — not joining.
She turned her head, eyes half-lidded, throat dry. "Who... are you?""Shhh... Just sleep. You're safe now," he murmured, pulling the blanket over her shoulders.She tried to open her eyes again. "Do I know you?"He hesitated. "You'll remember."

Before fear could register, or curiosity win the battle with exhaustion, everything faded. She slipped under, the weight of the night dragging her down like water.

A shrill beep shattered the stillness. The alarm clock blinked red: 06:30.
Lauren groaned, slapped it blindly, missed, and groaned again. Her body felt like it had been dragged through gravel. She hit the snooze button on the second try and collapsed back onto the pillow.

Eight minutes later, the process repeated itself.

When she finally sat up, her head throbbed and her stomach twisted. Her dress was still on, one strap fallen off her shoulder. She had no idea when — or how — she'd made it home. Only the faintest memory of a man's voice lingered."You'll remember."

She rubbed her eyes. Empty room. No coat on the chair. No glass on the nightstand. No trace.Shower. She needed a shower.
The water was too hot. She stood beneath it anyway, letting the steam rise around her as if it could scrub away whatever she'd done. When she stepped out, towel twisted around her, the doorbell rang.
She cursed softly. Whoever it was, they were too early.
Pulling on jeans and a sweater without bothering with makeup, she shuffled to the door and opened it halfway.

A bright, annoyingly cheerful voice greeted her. "Good morning! How was your weekend?"Tom.

She squinted at him. "Morning," she mumbled."You sound like death," he said with a smile, peering in. "Rough night?""Didn't sleep much." She turned, waving him in and heading to the kitchen. "I'll be five minutes.""You look like you need five hours.""Thanks."She poured two travel mugs of coffee with shaking hands. Her motor skills were still recovering.Tom watched her from the hallway. "You're really wobbly.""Shut up, Mike," she muttered.Tom blinked. "Mike? It's Tom." He tilted his head. "Everything okay?"She rubbed her temple. "Sorry. Just... tired.""Let's get going then. First assembly since the break, remember? You're still doing the student welcome speech.""Oh God," she groaned. "I forgot. I hate those."She shoved the mugs and her bag into Tom's hands and followed him out.

Tom's car was spotless, sleek, and way too fast for a school commute. Lauren sank into the passenger seat and closed her eyes.

"You're usually more talkative," Tom said as they pulled out of the street."I'm just tired," she muttered. She tried to sip her coffee, missed her mouth, and cursed as it spilled onto her coat."Hey, hey. No big deal." Tom grabbed a napkin from the glove-box. "You okay, really?""I'm a screw-up," she said, half-laughing. "Went home with some guy. Can't even remember who."Tom froze. "Wait—what? Were you drunk?""Pretty hammered. Shots, pills, whatever. Just trying to take the edge off before the semester starts up again.""But you're not supposed to be taking anything. You told me you were in recovery."
She looked out the window, eyes narrowed against the morning light. "Oh, that bitch," she muttered, chuckling bitterly.Tom didn't laugh.The rest of the drive passed in silence, broken only when the radio clicked on."Fallen Angels," Aerosmith's soft vocals filled the car."This is my favorite song," Tom said."Mine too," Lauren replied quietly.He turned it up.

As they pulled into the school lot, students turned their heads to see who was blasting ballads at 7:45 a.m.
Tom parked near the entrance."Lauren, are you okay? You look kind of... pale.""I'm fine," she said, stepping out of the car.Then she turned, bent down and threw up in the bushes.