Saved By Steven (the first story)

10. Time to change

Time passed, but Lauren still hadn't changed. Mick had told her earlier that he'd left out some of his old clothes in the guest room if she wanted to change, but she hadn't moved. She remained curled on the couch, towel-clad, her hair now dry but frizzing at the edges, her skin cooling under the fading warmth of the fabric. The towel was damp now—uncomfortable. She shivered.

"You cold?" Steven asked, his voice calm, not pressing—just a grounding presence in the buzz of noise around them.
"A bit," she admitted, without looking up.
"One sec.

Steven stood and disappeared down the hallway. A moment later, he returned with a thick fleece blanket and draped it gently over her legs.
"There. Better?"
Lauren gave him a small nod and leaned her head back on his chest. Steven put his arm around her again without hesitation, a quiet shelter in a world she didn't feel safe in. She melted into him, just a little more.

Across the room, Joey gave Steven a look. "Wow. She's into you."
Steven offered only a faint shrug. "Maybe. Or maybe she's just exhausted."
"We've gotta get ready for the show," Joe said, tone clipped, practical.
Steven looked down at Lauren. Her body was soft against his, but her breathing was steadying. He didn't move.
"We do," he agreed, "but I can't leave her like this."
"You can," Tom H replied, his voice neutral. "She's not your responsibility, man."
Steven's jaw tensed.
"You don't know what she's been through."
His tone landed harder than he'd meant it to. A brief silence followed.
Brad stood, giving him an understanding look.
"You're right. We'll start warming up. Come when you can."
Steven nodded, eyes still on Lauren.

I'm holding him up. I have to get dressed... but I don't want to. He's warm. He feels safe. Lauren closed her eyes. If I close them long enough, maybe I'll disappear.

Steven waited. When her breathing deepened, he kissed the top of her head—soft, almost unsure—then gently slid out from under her. He shifted her carefully, resting her head on a pillow, tucking the blanket and his jacket around her small frame.
"Sweet dreams," he whispered.

Hours, or maybe just moments, passed before Lauren woke again. Blinking against the light, she sat up slowly. The jacket fell from her shoulder. What the hell? She looked down. I'm still wearing a towel.

Memory trickled back in pieces. Shame pooled in her chest. She stood and wrapped the jacket tightly around her, climbing the stairs with quiet steps. A door was slightly open. Inside, folded neatly on the bed, were clothes—a soft, oversized shirt and a pair of clean sweatpants. She dressed slowly. The fabric smelled faintly of detergent and something familiar. Mick's, maybe.

Fully clothed now, Lauren moved down the hallway, drawn by the thrum of distant music. It led her to a large room in the back of the house where the guys were rehearsing. Their voices echoed as they joked, tuned guitars, and argued about setlists.

She watched from the doorway a moment. Then slipped away.

In the front hallway, she dug through her purse until her hand found what she needed, her phone. The battery was dead. Of course. She plugged it in, sitting on the floor until it powered on. Her fingers shook slightly as she dialed, checking the corners of the room to make sure no one saw. She placed her usual order. A dozen tubes of coke. Some liquid heroin. The dealer would meet her at the gas station in fifteen minutes.

Lauren stood, her hand clutching the phone a little too tightly. She pulled on her jacket again, mind racing. Just ten more minutes. Just ten more minutes and I'll feel okay again.She moved toward the front door.
"Where you going?" a voice asked.
She turned quickly—Joe. He was leaning against the hallway wall, a cigarette in one hand.
"Just out for smokes," she said quickly, trying to keep her voice even.
"You sure you're good to walk out like that?"
"I just need some air. The gas station isn't far."Joe narrowed his eyes, then fished into his pocket and tossed her a crumpled bill. "Bring me some back, yeah?""What kind?"He tossed her an empty cigar pack. "Same."Lauren nodded and opened the door. Before she could leave, she hesitated. "Don't tell anyone where I went, okay? I just need quiet."

Joe didn't move right away. He studied her, lighting his cigar with a slow flick of the lighter.
"You sure you're okay, kid?"

Lauren flinched slightly at the word kid, but said nothing. She just pulled the jacket tighter around herself and looked away.
"I'm not trying to pry," Joe continued, his voice lower now, more careful. "But Steven's a good guy. One of the rare ones, y'know?"
She glanced at him, eyes guarded.
"I'm not blaming you," he added. "I know what pain looks like. I know when someone's barely holding it together. And I'm not saying you're a burden or anything like that."
"Then what are you saying?" Lauren asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Joe exhaled a thin stream of smoke and looked out at the snow.
"Just don't let him disappear trying to pull you out of the dark. He's got this habit of diving in headfirst. And sometimes... he doesn't come back up."
Lauren said nothing. Her throat tightened, but not from panic this time. It was something else. Guilt? Sadness? Maybe both.
Joe shrugged. "You're not a project. But he's the kind of guy who thinks he can fix broken things. And when he can't... it kills him, a little. Just... don't lie to him. And don't make him your oxygen if you're still drowning."

She nodded slowly, absorbing the words like they were being written into her ribs.
"I won't," she said, eventually. "But I need to go right now."
Joe took one last drag and held the door for her. "Alright. Just don't take too long. We've all seen too many people vanish."

As the door closed behind her, the cold air cut into her cheeks like razors. She didn't flinch. Not this time. Her boots crunched into the snow-dusted path as she started walking. Just ten minutes. Then I can breathe again.