Heart's Done Time (Aerosmith Fanfiction)

Chapter three

Disclaimer: I don't own Aerosmith or any of the characters in this story except for Sesame and (later on) Alison, blah blah blah, this is all fiction, yada yada yada.

AN:

This chapter sucks big time, but that's not going to stop me from posting it.

Please don't judge me; I wasn't all there when I wrote this (if you know what I mean). 

Chapter three

Steven's POV

"Are you gonna be this fucking  useless all night?"

I laughed, head rolling along the length of the armrest, uplifted knees tipping to the side and almost sending me toppling as I fought through a fit of hysterical giggles and lay on my back on the sofa with the band and Sesame gathered around.

Tom was pissed; hell, everyone was pissed and had every right to be, but hard as I tried, I just couldn't seem to sober up. Maybe, I reasoned, because I didn't really want to sober up.

Sunday night meant band practice, and band practice meant singing. Singing was a feat I hadn't been sure I could manage in my state, but Sesame had refused to let me give up and so she'd whipped out her stash and let me smoke a joint in her van just outside of the garage the band was set up in at that very moment.

It'd been a good idea, in theory, and it'd worked for two songs before my voice abandoned me again. Not that I'd done much singing; I spent most of the time laughing my ass off and getting on the nerves of everyone present. But it had made me forget about the rawness of my throat and the pounding in my head, and, by this time, thirty minutes into band practice, I'd devoured almost an entire Family Size bag of chips and had drunk four water bottles trying to ease the burning sensation the weed left in my chest.

Giggling, I nodded in answer to Tom's question; yes, I was gonna be this fucking useless all night.

"Damn it," cursed Ray, turning to shoot Joe a look. Joe nodded.

"Could you at least shut your large-ass mouth while we get some work done?" the guitarist asked frankly, and I went into hysterics all over again.

I laughed and laughed until my eyes watered and my abs ached, but I also nodded in agreement and pretended to zip my oversized lips. "I'm not even here," I giggled.

"Thank you," said Joe, turning back to the band and counting off while I stared and made good my promise to stay quiet.

I did pretty well, too, if I do say so myself. I was so mentally absent throughout the rest of their set that I really might as well have been elsewhere. Sesame was eyeing me warily, and it was hard not to notice, but still I managed; and before I knew it, they were taking a break, everyone pulling out their water and taking seats around the garage.

It was quiet for a long time, until the silence was broken by Joey asking, "are you out of those?" while gesturing to my bag of potato chips and yeah I guess I really was.

"How did you manage that?" laughed Ray, shaking his head in disbelief.

I giggled, turning to face him. Sort of. My aim was a bit off so I ended up looking more towards the wall behind him and I couldn't muster up the strength to move my eyes. "I'm... I'm stoned, man. Fucking stoned," I said, and let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a cough and rolled onto my side, hugging my ribs and silently chuckling to myself.

"How much did he smoke?" asked Joe, his question directed at Sesame, who looked caught between amusement and concern.

"Most of a joint, I think. He rolled a pretty, er, generous one and I had a hit, but I think he smoked the rest," she replied, obviously worried (who knew why) but also trying hard not to laugh. Or maybe that was only me. Everything was so funny.

Joe let out a whistle. "He must've been motivated, then. I heard his voice last night; his throat must be fucked to hell." He looked to Sesame. "Is he that hungover?"

Sesame laughed. "When is he not?"

"I'm right fucking here!" I interjected. I couldn't bring myself to be angry for real, though, because it was actually very amusing. I laughed.

So did everyone else.

I knew they were mocking me, but I didn't really care about that so much as I cared that my once-full bag of chips had mysteriously been emptied. I was hungry and I wanted more, but obviously that wasn't a thing that was going to happen.

"Just when I thought you couldn't get any skinnier," joked Sesame, her tone somewhat suggesting seriousness. But then, I was high. "you go and pull this glamorous rockstar act. What am I gonna do with you?"

"Nothing you don't do already. What glamorous rockstar act are you referring to?" I asked, genuinely curious as to how people viewed me. Apart from the skinny jibe, that is.

"The one where you only eat when you're high as a kite and then throw it all up next time you're drunk, hungover, or have a gig," she replied, smirking a little.

Tom fake coughed into his fist. "Which is always."

Everyone laughed, including me, and I had to gasp for air through my giggles.

"I don't do that!" I objected with little conviction, and laughed again when this statement was greeted by five different variations of "actually, you do”.

"Well shit," I said, and though I laughed with everyone else, Tom's statement ("Which is always.") stuck with me long after the rest of that afternoon became little more than a blur in my mind.

Because he was right.

---

When I awoke early the next morning, I felt regrettably sober and very, very confused as to how and when I got back to the Bellos' house. Sunday night was almost entirely blank for me, and now on Monday morning I felt royally lost and out of place in my own life, mind, and body, almost as though I'd stepped out for a couple minutes too long and had missed vital plot points.

There was no school today, given that it was Thanksgiving break from now until next week, but still I felt that I shouldn't have stayed in bed so late. Like I had someplace else to be.

I did, of course, if you thought about it. It'd been days since I'd been home to see my family, despite living walking distance from Sesame's place, and I knew I should go back, now especially since this is the only time I'd been both sober and not hungover or busy since school let out Friday afternoon. But frankly, I really didn't want to.

Not that my family was bad to be around; really, they were better than most because they often just ignored me anyway. But when they weren't pretending my sister, Lynda, was an only child, they were on my case about every little thing, and I knew if one more person said to me "you should be more like your sister," I was gonna break some shit.

But still, I needed to go back eventually, and now was as good a time as any would be.

So I scooted myself out of bed—gently, so as not to wake Sesame—and tiptoed over to the closet for some jeans and a shirt to pull on.

I got them on quickly, but when Sesame stirred, I panicked, because I didn't want her to know I was going home until I was already gone. So I hurried to the front door as silently as I could and slipped on the old chucks I'd left on the way in. Then, giving myself a once-over and deciding that it wasn't worth it to run back to her room and get a coat even though it was freezing balls this time of year, I silently slipped out the door and down the street towards home.

Please vote and review! Comments make my day! xoxo