Heart's Done Time (Aerosmith Fanfiction)

Chapter ten

Chapter ten

Sesame's POV

"Steven, please, it's been over three days."

The singer in question shook his head in refusal, damp curls bouncing and swinging to hit his pale face which shimmered with a layer or two of sweat. To say the least, he looked awful.

It was Monday at lunchtime, and Steven, Tom, Joe, and I were seated in the cafeteria, the latter three of us munching on our sandwiches while Steven crossed his arms over the table and looked at us with a nauseated expression, perspiration making his skin damp and tremors racking his skeletal hands.

"I'm really not hungry, Pink," he told me, voice weak from overuse. I could still hardly believe he'd elected to go to practice last night, much less school today.

"Hungry or not, food is a necessity and the last time you ate was Thanksgiving. And you threw up," I reminded him sweetly, but firmly. Proud as I was that he'd been sober for so long, that was only one part of the deal. This was the other.

"I'll throw up if you make me eat now, and then we'll just be back to square one," he told me, and I knew he might be right, but I was too concerned to drop this now.

"You might not. And if you keep it down you'll feel even better, and at least you won't pass out in gym class." He threw me a look of disbelief. "God, Steven, you don't have to eat the whole thing," I told him, feeling increasingly agitated. It really was like dealing with a toddler. "Just take three bites. And drink some water." That look again. "For me?"

He sighed, rolling his eyes and sitting up straighter, both hands now clutching his sandwich. I stared.

"This would be a lot easier if you didn't watch me," he said, annoyed.

"It'd also be a lot easier to cheat. I'm watching."

He surrendered, biting into his sandwich and making a show of chewing and swallowing three bites. "Ta-da," he said, reaching for his water and sipping it carefully. "Three bites and some water."

"Can you eat three more?"

"Holy sh--" he exclaimed, obviously getting fed up with me and my concern. "Sesame, I'm fucking done now. Three bites and some water. That was the deal."

I sighed, knowing he was right, and nodded my consent. "All right. Just please try your best to keep it down." That damn look. "Well, I'm sorry! But if you ate like a normal person, maybe we wouldn't be having this discussion. You can't blame me for caring so much," I said, eyes imploring him to try and see things my way.

He sighed deeply. "I'm sorry, Pink. You're right. I know I'd do the same thing if the tables were turned," he said, visibly deflating. "I gotta grab my history notes from my locker. You coming?"

I agreed, and hastily I cleaned up my garbage and followed Steven to his locker, all the while pretending not to notice how difficult it was for him to walk.

We would definitely be discussing this eating thing again very soon.

---

The rest of the school day flew by in a blur of concerned thoughts about Steven.

I found myself spending every class we were apart wondering if he was okay, if he'd kept down his lunch, if he'd fainted in gym class after all, if his withdrawal symptoms had eased up any, and so much more that I found it hard to walk without tripping, never mind pay attention in class, and so when the final bell rang at last, I all but ran to his locker to meet him. I was relieved to find him upright and very much the same as earlier; pale, sweaty, and anxious looking.

The fact that this was relieving made me reexamine our relationship.

I didn't speak, but he obviously felt my presence because he turned to look at me as I drew near and his face lit up, a wide smile cracking his otherwise haggard features. "Hello, beautiful," he said, brown eyes shining.

"Hey, sweetie," I said, standing on tiptoe to kiss his damp cheek. "How are you?"

He finished loading the stuff he didn't need into his locker and closed it with a clang, giving me his full attention. But not before planting a kiss on my lips, of course. "I'm better," he said, and while he really didn't look it, he did seem much less edgy than he did earlier. "How are you, love?"

"I'm much better now that I know you're alright," I said honestly, brushing strands of dirty hair from his eyes. "You didn't puke any, then?"

"Surprisingly, no." He interlaced our fingers and walked slowly towards the double doors. "I thought I might for awhile, but by chemistry I did feel better, just like you said," he explained, pulling me closer as the cold of the now-December air hit him.

"I'm usually right about these things," I jested, bumping him very gently. I was still afraid of hurting him. "In fact, I'm usually right about everything."

"Yeah, right," said Steven, climbing into the passenger side of the van.

"I know I am," I said with a wink, turning the key in the ignition and switching gears. "So where to?" I asked him as I pulled carefully out of the parking lot and onto the road.

"Certainly not home," he replied, looking for a moment like a lost child, all pale and fearful and just generally small, both in spirit and stature. I wondered for a moment what home was to him; I'd been there a few times in our long friendship, and he'd told be stories of the disappointment he saw in his parents' eyes daily, but I had never experienced first-hand the supposed spirit-crushing lectures he ranted about when he was drunk, which was most of the time.

I looked at him for a brief moment at a stop light, and I felt suddenly sad all over again to see just what he'd done to himself and to know it was partially the fault of his discouraging parents. My heart ached.

"Alright, well do you want to come to my place? Or did you have something else in mind?" I asked when I realized I'd been quiet a bit too long. "We could go see a movie or something."

"I don't care," he said closing his eyes and shaking his head. He leaned back against the headrest. "Just don't take me home."

"I can do that,' I thought, glancing at him again. 'For Steven, I can do about anything.'

I turned at the next light.