Saved By Steven (the first story)

2. The teachers' lounge

Lauren was still trembling when Tom led her through the back entrance of the school. The early morning halls were quiet, echoing with the hum of fluorescent lights and distant footsteps."In here," Tom said, pushing open the door to the teachers' lounge.

Warmth and the scent of burnt coffee greeted them. The lounge was half-lit, blinds still drawn, one or two teachers already inside, chatting over stale pastries. 

"Sit down," he said gently, guiding her toward the worn leather couch in the corner. "I'll get you some water."She didn't answer, just nodded, pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders and curled her legs under her.
Across the room, a teacher glanced up from her laptop. "Yikes. You okay?""Fine," Lauren mumbled, barely audible.
Tom returned with a glass of water and crouched in front of her. "Here. Small sips.""Thanks." Her voice was dry and distant."You're still drunk, aren't you?"

She didn't look at him. Just reached into her bag and started rummaging through it, slowly, as if even that took effort.
"A little," she admitted.
"What time did you get home?"
"Around five," she said, slipping on a pair of sunglasses and sinking deeper into the couch.

Tom sat beside her. "We've still got an hour before the assembly. Just rest for a bit."She closed her eyes, leaning back against the cushions, trying not to throw up again. Her whole body felt disconnected, like it was moving through water.Tom sat quietly next to her, his hand resting lightly on hers, thumb tracing gentle circles.
That's when Mick walked in."What the hell happened to her?" he asked, brows raised."Rough night," Tom said without looking up."She gonna be okay?""She's just tired. I'll get her out of here after the assembly if she's still bad.""Need help?"Tom nodded. "Could you grab coffee? A cappuccino for her, black for me.""On it."When Mick returned a few minutes later, Lauren was still out cold.
"Lauren, sweetheart?" Tom said, brushing a hand over her arm. "Wake up. Coffee's here."She stirred slowly, eyes fluttering open behind the sunglasses, one hand pressed to her forehead. 
 "Ugh... I don't feel good.""Here," Mick said, handing her the cappuccino.
Lauren reached out for it — then froze, turned pale, and lunged for the trash bin beside the couch.

"It's okay," Tom said calmly, moving behind her and rubbing her back.Mick bent down beside them, gently pulling Lauren's hair back. "Jesus. Are you alright? This isn't just a hangover."Tom looked up at him, his expression tight. "What are you thinking?""I think someone spiked her drink last night."Tom's jaw clenched. He turned to Lauren. "Hey. Can you tell us anything? Do you remember who you were with?"Lauren shook her head weakly. "Not really... There was a guy... tall, quiet... I think he brought me home. But I don't know his name. I don't even know if I..." She didn't finish.Mick frowned. "That's not good."Lauren opened her mouth to say something else, but then her eyes rolled back and she collapsed against the couch."Lauren!" Tom caught her before she slumped forward. "Hey—Lauren, come on."

The music throbbed through her bones as Lauren leaned on the bar drink in her hand. Lights flickered above her — blue, red, white — everything blurred at the edges. She'd stopped counting the shots after four and forgetting how to stand properly. Someone had handed her something earlier — a little white pill — and she'd taken it without thinking.

She just wanted to stop feeling.

Somewhere around midnight, the crowd stopped making sense. Voices dissolved into noise. Faces became smears of color.

And then he was there.

A man. Standing just far enough to not be intrusive, but close enough that she noticed him. Tall, wiry frame wrapped in a tangle of scarves and layers, a velvet jacket, tight leather pants, boots that looked worn. Rings on almost every finger, sunglasses inside the club, and long black hair streaked with silver, falling over his shoulders in a cascade of chaos.. He looked out of place in this mess of strobe lights and smoke.

And yet — he wasn't out of place. People moved around him like they sensed him, even if they didn't see him. He didn't dance. He didn't drink. He just watched. Not in a creepy way. Not exactly. There was something oddly calm about him. Lauren stared back, curious.

He stepped forward, offered his hand. ""Rough night?" he asked, voice low and smoky, like gravel soaked in honey.

She blinked. "What?"
"You're unraveling," he said. "Want to get out of here before you completely fall apart?"
"I think so," she said, though her words slurred.
"You shouldn't be here."
She laughed. "Neither should you."
He didn't smile. Just leaned closer. "Do you want to go home?"

Her mind said yes. Her body hesitated. But before she could reply, everything tilted sideways. The floor slipped from under her. She stumbled — and then strong arms caught her before she hit the ground. "Don't worry, baby bird," he murmured as she swayed on her feet. "I've caught worse falls."The world spun. Music faded.

About half an hour later she came to slowly. The lights above buzzed faintly. Her mouth tasted of acid and her skin was clammy.
"Lauren?" Tom was kneeling beside her again. "You okay?"She blinked, dazed.
"What... what happened?"
"You fainted."
"For how long?"
"About thirty minutes."
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Don't be," Mick said from across the room. "You just bought the entire school another delay before that godawful assembly. You're basically a hero."
Lauren gave a tired smile. "Great." She shifted, trying to sit up. Her muscles ached, her limbs heavy.
"Easy," Mick said, taking her arms to steady her. "You're still pale."
"I'm fine. Really," she said, brushing him off gently. "I've wasted enough of your time already."
Tom stood. "You haven't wasted anything. But we need to figure out what happened last night. If someone did something to you.
"I know," she said quietly, but the rest of her sentence faded into silence.