Terror Twin [Def Leppard] #Wattys2016

XXV: Hysteria

Rick sat down at his kit, grinning widely at the banner in front of the stage that hid them from the crowd outside. This'll never get old.

The opener for that night, Tesla, had finished up and the stage had been empty for about a half hour. Rick was more than ready to start.

He clapped his sticks together a few times as the others took their places. Stagefright was the opener, as usual.

With everything going on, Rick seemed to be the only member of the band with a stable mental state, despite still battling his phantom limb.

Perhaps the man with the most reason to feel hopeless would be the one to bring hope to the ones losing faith.

Steve strummed his guitar, slung low over his shoulders. This would be the first time he used the beautiful double-necked instrument on stage.

Phil had forgiven Steve, as always. He knew this was only a phase. Steve would've bought a new flask before they leave this town.

Steve needed more than a pep talk to drop it.

Sav shifted the bass' strap on his shoulder, adjusting the weight of the heavy instrument. Joe was standing next to him, ready to jump out as the heat goes up and the lights go down. Hey, that's good. Should use that for a song someday.

How cliché.

Joe fluffed his hair for the final time, waiting for the banner to be raised.

Finally, the lights dropped into a dark blue, shining down as the crowd began to roar in excitement.

To Joe, the shows almost felt repetitive, but he kept in mind that although it could be his five hundredth show, it could still be the first show for lots of people in the crowd. That kept him going.

Phil knew something was different when Steve leant over the mic they were sharing to plant a kiss on his cheek.

•

"I love you, Phil. Really. I still do, I always will. Please, believe me."

"Steve, I never said I didn't."

"Joe said I was lucky you didn't leave me already." Steve mumbled, staring down at the floor of the bunk room rather than at Phil, who was folding clothes they had gotten back from the local laundromat after the show.

Phil raised an eyebrow.

"Well, you pissed off Sav enough to sock you. I'm not surprised Joe was angry, too."

"Phil, I'm sorry-"

Phil cut him off swiftly, rolling his eyes.

"Stop. I know. I love you, too, Steve. I'm not leaving. Y'know, you're lucky Sav didn't put his full force into it. He could've fucked you up if he wanted to."

"He called me an addict."

"He's right."

Steve glanced up at Phil, frowning.

"Addicts die, though. Don't they?"

Phil stopped folding clothes and sat down on the bunk next to Steve. He held his hand gingerly, almost as if he was afraid his boyfriend would shatter if he touched him.

"You aren't going to die, Steve. I've told you before. You're going to get through this, and I'm going to help." Phil murmured softly, convincingly.

Steve shrugged, removing his hand from Phil's. He crawled into his bunk, tossing his shirt and jeans down into their laundry pile after he was up. The curtain slid shut, and silence overtook the bus.

Joe and Sav were moving their instruments and helping the roadies pack up. Or banging on an amp. Rick wasn't sure. It was impossible to tell what the source was of all the groans coming from the stage adjacent.

Rick was rolling his drums into the other, smaller bus where they would be until the next show. Much safer than the van they used to have.

Phil stripped off his jeans and climbed into Steve's bunk, despite not being invited. He was already shirtless, as usual.

"Phil, don't."

Phil bit his lip.

"I'm staying with you tonight, Steve. I want to hold you." Phil murmured defiantly, snaking his arms around Steve's skinny hips and pulling him flush against his own body.

"That's okay, I guess." Steve gave in, leaning back into the embrace, his breaths slowing until sleep overtook him.

Phil pressed a kiss to the back of his head, his unruly hair proving to be difficult to get by.

"Goodnight, angel."

•

Time went on.

Hysteria was released in August, 1987, proving Sav right about the date, and Phil wrong that it would be a flop.

Pour Some Sugar On Me was the biggest hit on the album, and the band heard it playing anywhere they toured. All seven singles were blasting through club's speakers. Every town, every city, was inflicted with hysteria.

Def Leppard was on top of the world.

But they remained down to earth.

Joe found himself looking at rings in the jewelry stores with a new eye.

Rick was drumming better than ever, and even had found himself with a steady relationship.

Sav had found new hairspray brands to make his hair fluffier than ever. What a win.

Phil realized Steve had been without a flask or any kind of drink for over a year while they had been finishing touring. The Halloween of 1988 was creeping around the corner, just two days away.

They'd be back home in Sheffield later that day when the plane landed back in England.

The last Hysteria tour date was in Washington, USA, on October 27th. Almost three years of touring was finally complete.

Sitting on the plane now, Steve asleep on his shoulder, Phil was nodding off, headphones still in, portable cassette player in hand.

Sav and Joe were fast asleep in the seat in front of them, Rick taking up two seats in his snooze.

Phil smiled to himself. He had never imagined life could be this good.

They were the biggest band in the world. People came up to ask for autographs on the street, screamed their names and the kids in the front row of the concert knew every lyric.

They had money to waste for the first time in years, and Phil was about to go ahead and "waste" it on gifts for Steve. Phil had never been happier.

Because Steve was sober.