Heart's Done Time (Aerosmith Fanfiction)

Chapter seventeen

Steven's POV
I was out cold for no more than a minute, but even as I regained relative consciousness, I could hardly make sense of what little I was seeing through half-lidded eyes and the strange sounds I was hearing through ringing ears. It felt rather like I was underwater.
"How high is that kid?!" exclaimed the voice of a stranger, sounding very tough and very angry and definitely not like the kind of person I'd feel okay pissing off.
"He's not high!" yelled back a voice, this one smaller and more familiar, but also very hysterical, and images of pink locks and sweet kisses and tender care all flitted through my memory. Sesame.
"He's sick," said another voice, male, but not mean and strange like the other man's was. "He's been really sick for a few days." Joe.
"Well someone get him off the floor and ready to play another set!" shouted the voice of the tough guy from earlier. The man stomped out of the room to who-knows-where, and all I could think was, 'good riddance.'
Silence had befallen the supposed group of people present, but I couldn't bring myself to care when I now felt safe enough with the big man gone to allow my eyes to slip the rest of the way closed to sleep. I was so, so tired...
But someone refused to let me sleep. There was a tapping on my cheek, light at first, but much harder when I gave no response, and so I moaned when the hand hit me especially hard.
"Steven," said a female voice, high-pitched and every bit as smooth and gentle as a voice could be, somehow managing to sound completely calm despite the air of impending danger that hung in its under register. "Steven, sweetie, please open your eyes. Show me those pretty brown eyes, love."
I didn't know what it was, but something about Sesame's imploring voice made me cooperate without even thinking, my heart feeling light and fluttery and so eager to please her that my body reacted as instinct. My eyelids lifted, and the eyes beneath were immediately assaulted by light and what seemed like a thousand worried faces floating above. I blinked.
"That's right, dear, look at me," said Sesame, face pale and tear-streaked despite the dazzling white smile splitting her features and crinkling the skin around her big eyes. "Scared me to death there, honey. I still owe you that drink, and I'd hate to have to miss out."
I smiled widely, mind suddenly recalling that this familiar goddess of a girl was not only my best friend, but my girlfriend as well, and I suddenly felt ill-equipped to contain the joy this triggered.
I went to sit up, feeling the immediate need to give the pink-haired teenager a hug, but she stopped me with a firm hand on my chest.
"Stay lying down, sweetie, you only just woke up. What's your rush?" she asked, smiling at me, still, but crying all the while. I didn't understand. Why was she sad?
"I missed you," I croaked, before I knew what I was doing. "Why are you crying?" I just didn't understand.
"I'm just happy to see you is all," she said slowly, as if talking to a toddler. I hardly noticed. "And I'm scared for you."
"Why are you scared?" I asked, brow creasing. I couldn't ever remember feeling so completely lost. "I'm fine."
She shook her head, the loose strands of hair from her bun flopping around her face. "You're not fine, sweetie. You're really sick."
I looked over her shoulder, past the faces of the onlookers and somewhere far away. "Oh."
"How do you feel?" she asked, grabbing back my attention swiftly and gracefully.
"I feel..." I didn't know how I felt. Everything hurt, but mostly I just felt that there was something I was supposed to be doing. "Why aren't we onstage?" I asked instead.
"You finished the first set and then you passed out," provided Joe, kneeling down beside Sesame, who was suddenly sobbing too hard to speak. "We had another set to do, but we're thinking now we gotta get you to the hospital."
"Hospital?" I asked, not understanding why that would be necessary.
"You're really not well, Steven," said Joe, looking worried as he gently rubbed Sesame's back to comfort her. "You're practically roasting and you haven't kept any food down in three days. We're worried you're dehydrated."
I looked from face to face, really not getting it. "So I'll drink some water," I said. "And we can play the show."
Sesame laughed, a little less hysterical, but still not entirely collected. "That's not how it works, Steven. You'll just throw it up again."
"What if I don't?" I asked, propping myself up on my elbows despite Joe cautioning me to stay down. "If I can drink an entire bottle of water and not vomit, can't I play the show?"
The band exchanged looks, and then all looked to Sesame for the final word.
She sighed heavily. "If you can keep down a whole water bottle, you can finish the show, but you're going to the doctor's office first thing tomorrow," she said, and I smiled, accepting Joe's help in sitting up.
Tom volunteered to get the water bottle, and returned not a minute later with one in hand, making my stomach roll threateningly. I swallowed, accepting the bottle, and uncapped it slowly.
And then, I drank.
Sure enough, I found that I was actually very thirsty, and it took all of my willpower not to gulp the entire thing down in an instant. After some time, though, I had finished the bottle slowly enough to not be too terribly worried, but quickly enough that Sesame said we still had fifteen minutes until the next set. I was pretty confident.
Now it was just a matter of waiting, and though everyone was doing their best to act natural, I knew that the direction the night went was all riding on me and my ability to resist the urge to vomit then and there. It was tough, but I managed.
Because I'd known right then--when Joe had said I couldn't finish the show and my heart had dropped into my stomach--that this was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I wanted to be a rockstar. I wanted to be a frontman. And I was not gonna let something as stupid as dehydration keep me back when I had a show to finish.
And so when the owner (apparently the big, scary man I'd heard speaking earlier) came back to tell us we were on in two minutes, I could proudly say that I was going to get out there and I was going to put on a show no one in the audience would ever forget.
And that's just what I did.

A/N:

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