Terror Twin [Def Leppard] #Wattys2016

VI: Broke N' Brokenhearted

A Couple Days Later.

•

The band got together more often, and had quite a few successful practices over the past few days, hitting each song up again until they were perfect in everyone's books. By the end of their Saturday in the studio, all nine songs were recorded and ready to be mixed except for two: Too Late For Love and another track they couldn't decide on the title for: Rock! Rock! or Anything Goes. It was one of the songs Phil had claimed the solo on, and Steve said Phil should get to choose the title, but Joe was fighting hard for Rock! Rock! ('Till You Drop). In the end, Joe won the debate.

Steve and Phil had divided Pyromania's solos almost exactly equally. Steve was no longer a rhythm guitarist like with Pete, or now a lead guitarist. He and Phil shared the guitar duties, and nothing had made Steve happier.

Except Phil in general, of course.

Steve glanced over at the beautiful man seated beside him on the floor, wearing only a robe and slippers as he strummed his unplugged guitar. His medium-length dirty blonde hair fell just over his left eye, giving Steve a perfect view of the angelic blue hidden in the other that was still visible. It almost seemed to glow in the slight dimness of Phil's bedroom, and Steve hunched over his own guitar, attempting to study the face of his lover without it being too obvious he was staring. Steve had been staying over more, and practically lived at Phil's house. It was only a matter of time until he packed up his shit and moved in, and honestly, Phil couldn't wait.

Just the thought of living with the man he loved oh-so-dearly made Steve's heart thump in his chest, even more so when he reminded himself that Phil felt the same way about him, too.

Steve found himself reaching for his silver flask hidden behind his leg, uncapping it and taking a swig when Phil wasn't looking. But Phil heard the pop as the cap was snapped back on, and stared up at his lover with one raised eyebrow.

"Steve, baby, go easy on it. Please."

"I know, I am." Steve watched himself lie through his teeth. He wasn't going easy. He just couldn't bring himself to tell Phil he had been stocking up his much-needed alcohol under his bed at home, and that's why he was always going back and forth. Couldn't bring himself to admit to Phil he was addicted, and that the urge to drink was worse than ever. He knew that when Phil did find out, he'd be sent to rehab.

Steve just couldn't find the effort to care.

He cared about the band, sure, and cared for Phil even more, but just couldn't bring himself to truly care about his health. He was sick, mentally, and he knew it.

Phil could tell something was wrong when Steve wouldn't look him in the eye after the exchange.

Phil lifted the instrument over his head, laying it on the floor, doing the same to Steve's guitar, which had been sitting idle on his shoulder for over twenty minutes now while he eyed Phil. Steve watched silently, the guilt of the lie already weighing on his chest.

Phil clambered into his boyfriend's lap, wrapping his arms around Steve's shoulders.

"You smell like the drink." Phil whispered, his voice catching in his throat. It was true, though - Steve's hair, his clothing, his breath. His soft lips, which Phil took the courtesy of pressing against his own.

Steve felt the sweat on the back of his neck, but gently kissed back. Phil broke it off just as Steve's lips began to move.

"This isn't all just from your flask. It can't be. You smell like you've been rolling in beer."

Steve could feel the tears welling up. He turned his head and buried his face in Phil's neck, but it was too late.

Phil felt cool liquid on his skin. Immediately he sat back, sliding off Steve's lap and instead cradling the younger man in his arms. Phil stroked Steve's hair, running his fingers through his curly golden mane, whispering to him.

"Baby, baby.. it's okay, I'm not angry.. just tell me what's going on, please. I need to make sure you're okay." Phil's attempt to soothe his crying failed miserably, resulting in Steve clinging to his robe and snuggling up as close as humanly possible.

Steve was trying his hardest to stop sobbing, hiccuping into Phil's chest instead.

"I just feel so.. broken." Steve whimpered, his voice not too far from breaking. "I can't shake this.. this, need, to d-drink.. I'm not an addict, I can't be-"

Phil sighed, and that noise alone made the tears return to Steve's eyes. He was able to contain himself, though, keeping a firm gaze on anywhere but Phil.

"Baby, you're addicted. You know it. And I know it too."

The seconds of silence that followed were enough to drive Steve insane.

"Please don't send me away."

Steve's voice, usually full of laughter and joy, had been reduced to small and weak, and it was shattering Phil's heart.

"Never, sweetheart, I'm not going to send you away. That's bonkers." Phil laughed sadly, moving Steve so he could face him and trace his jawline with his finger. Steve climbed into Phil's lap, straddling him, shameful blue meeting loving blue.

"I'm going to help you through this, Steph'. You're going to be okay. I promise, I will help you." Phil murmured sweetly, pressing a loving kiss to Steve's forehead, then one to the bridge of his nose, the tip of his nose, and finally his lips. No matter how much they tasted of what Phil despised most on Steve, they were still beautiful, and they were still Steve's lips, meaning Phil wanted them. So he took them, flicking his tongue softly against Steve's bottom lip, being granted access quickly.

Steve pulled away before it could get too heated, a deep blush reddening his face.

Phil scooped Steve up and moved the two of them to Phil's bed, gently setting him down.

"Baby, I'm not in the mood." He grumbled, sliding out of Phil's grip and flopping onto the bed.

"Steph', I'm sorry.. Please don't block me out. I wasn't trying to.. shite, whatever." Phil sighed, laying down next to him, looking square at his lover's back.

It was 8:30 p.m., and somehow time has elapsed past them.

All Steve wanted to do was sleep.

Phil wrapped his arms around Steve's waist, leaning his forehead against Steve's back. He felt Steve press into his warmth a bit, and Phil reached down and wrapped the comforter around them.

"Baby?"

A pause.

"Yeah, Phil?"

"I love you, Stephen."

"Love you too, Philip."

Phil knew it would be okay.