Saved By Steven (the first story)

17. Fractured Spotlight

By 8 p.m., guests had begun to arrive for Mick's party. The house filled quickly with familiar faces from the music world—gritty rock legends, rising indie stars, and old friends from the touring circuit. The air smelled of warm whiskey, expensive cologne, and the thrum of bass-heavy sound checks bleeding in from the ballroom.

Mick moved quietly through the crowd, organizing the flow, shaking hands, and casting glances toward the hallway. He had invited Tom to keep Lauren company that evening, hoping she'd feel less alone in a sea of strangers. Lauren didn't take it well.
"You invited Tom to chaperone me?" she said, her words already a little fuzzy. A wine glass was cradled too comfortably in her hand.
"Lauren, I asked Tom to keep you company, not babysit you," Mick said gently. "I just didn't want you to feel lost out there."
"I wouldn't be. I have you. And Steven. And the band," she snapped, tilting her glass toward her lips.
"I know. I'm sorry if that hurt your feelings," Mick said, choosing calm over conflict. "Just... get dressed. Come downstairs when you're ready. If you want to leave at any time, we'll make it happen, no questions asked."

He left before she could say more.
Lauren got dressed, pulling on the elegant black dress Mick had picked out. She applied her makeup with practiced strokes, though her hands trembled slightly. A knock interrupted her.
"Can I come in?" Steven's voice.
"Whatever."
Steven stepped inside. "You doing all right?"
"I'm fine, Steven."
"You don't look—"
"Shut up."
"Lauren, come on. Please talk to me."
"I don't want to talk. I'm busy."
Steven watched her for a moment longer, then quietly left. She didn't see the concern tightening in his jaw.

Downstairs, the atmosphere was picking up. The ballroom glowed in amber and gold. People laughed, drinks flowed, and music bounced from the speakers. Steven joined the crowd, finding old friends and brushing shoulders with people he'd once idolized

Then, half an hour later, Lauren walked in. She moved through the room like smoke—quiet and unpredictable. She went straight to the bar and downed a drink before ordering another. She made her way to Steven, slipping her arm through his and leaning into him

"Hi," she murmured.
Steven blinked, pulling his attention away from a conversation with Marc and Vivian, two icons of rock who now looked mildly curious about the woman swaying beside him.
"Hi," Steven said, voice even. "Glad you made it. You okay?"
"I didn't want to miss this," she said, smiling too hard.
"Well then, let me introduce you. Marc and Vivian—rock royalty, basically."
"Nice to meet you," Lauren said, her tone polite but distant.
Vivian smiled warmly. Marc gave her a small nod, but he was already watching her more closely than she realized.

The party swelled with laughter and energy. Lauren lingered near Steven, clinging to the edge of comfort. But eventually, he stepped away to greet another guest, leaving her to drift back toward the bar. She barely noticed Joe until he was suddenly there beside her. He'd stayed on the periphery all night, sipping his drink.

Watching.
Waiting.

Lauren noticed him as the bartender turned away to grab a new bottle.
Joe hesitated, then said, "You've had enough to drink."
She scoffed. "Who the hell are you to tell me that?"
"I'm a friend who cares," Joe said, trying to keep his voice low.

Lauren turned sharply. "Excuse me?"
"I'm just saying—maybe take a breath. You're making a scene."
"Oh, you care now?" she said, voice rising. "You don't get to act like a concerned friend after what you did."
"I didn't do anything you didn't want," he said, calmly, almost rehearsed.
Lauren's voice cut through the music. "The hell you didn't. You took advantage of me, you bastard!"

People turned. Conversations paused.
"Stop," Joe hissed. "You're embarrassing yourself."
"Screw you, Joe.  I trusted you. You were supposed to be a friend, and you used me."

Joe's jaw clenched. He had tried to rationalize it for days—telling himself she hadn't said no, that she'd leaned into him, that she hadn't pushed him away. But in the quiet corners of his mind, guilt gnawed like a dull knife. And now, under the lights of the party, in front of strangers, it was being dragged into the open.

Before Joe could respond, Steven and Marc walked over. Marc pulled Joe aside under the pretense of asking about the concert. Steven gently took Lauren by the arm and guided her upstairs. She was still vibrating with rage, her steps uneven.

Upstairs, Lauren sank onto the bed, breathing hard.
Lauren, what was that about?" he asked once they were alone.
She ignored him, rummaging through her bag.
Steven took it from her.
"Lauren, stop. This is getting out of hand. What's going on?"
"I need my bag," she said, her voice cracking. "I can't tell you anything. Just leave me alone."
"I can't," Steven said quietly. "I made you a promise."
Lauren quickly pulled a few pills from the bag before he could stop her. She looked at him defiantly.
"Not today. Maybe later."
"Baby, please. Talk to me. I know about the abortion. I know about the assault Sunday. And I'm still here."

Lauren's breath caught. She hadn't expected him to say that. She hadn't expected him to know. But she couldn't open the whole box—her past, her shame, her guilt. She wasn't ready.
"Trust me," she whispered. "Just... not now."

She turned and headed for the stairs but tripped on the top step, landing hard. Marc and Vivian had just walked up the stairs. Marc rushed over, helping her up with gentle hands.
"Careful there," Marc said, his voice calm.
"You okay?" Vivian asked, brushing Lauren's hair back from her face.
"I'm fine," Lauren muttered, tugging her dress down.
"Let's get you cleaned up," Vivian said, guiding her toward the bathroom.

Steven stood frozen, guilt bubbling under his skin.
"What the hell was that?" Dorian asked when he returned from the hall.
"I don't know," Steven said. "A breakdown, maybe."
Marc crossed his arms. "Then be careful. Don't lose yourself in this. You've worked hard to stay clean."
"I know," Steven murmured. "I'm trying. But I'm struggling."

Their conversation paused as Vivian led Lauren back into the room, now fresh-faced and quieter. She clung to Mick the rest of the night. 

The party wore on until well after 3 a.m., music echoing into the early hours. Marc and Vivian stayed the night, as did the rest of the band. Lauren slept in Mick's room, curled up in the hollow of someone else's safety. But the tension from the night didn't fade. It hummed beneath the surface like the last note of a song that wouldn't end.