Heart's Done Time (Aerosmith Fanfiction)

Chapter twenty-six

Chapter twenty-six
Sesame's POV
I showed up around noon to take Steven shopping the next day, feet dragging and head pounding after having broken into the whiskey shortly after I dropped Steven home last night. I didn't know why I did it, but I did know that I felt I needed to at the time, and that was good enough for me.
I drove slowly and cautiously there, and parked in the vacant spot that signified his parents' absence, blinking tired eyes and squinting to avoid the rays of the sun.
I entered the house without knocking, and then made my way dispassionately down the hallway to Steven's bedroom, pushing open the door and wincing a bit when the stench of alcohol attacked my nose and made my uneasy stomach roll in rebellion. This told me that he'd elected to finish the vodka from over two weeks prior, and I shook my head and shut the door behind me.
"You've been drinking," I said, taking a seat at the foot of the bed and tuning briefly in to the Beatles record he had on.
"So have you," he said, screwing closed the glass bottle and putting it down on the table next to him. "You're way hungover."
"Oh?" I asked, surprised by his perceptiveness. "What makes you say that?"
He stood from where he was propped against the headboard and moved to dig through one of his desk drawers while he spoke. "Your makeup," he said, retrieving a bottle of aspirin and tossing it to me. "You outlined yesterday's eyeliner smudges. You only do that when you're hungover, or when you spend the night here and don't have all your makeup." He smirked proudly. "And you sure as hell weren't here last night."
"Huh," I mused, having never noticed that about myself but knowing he was dead on. "How long have we been friends?"
He laughed. "Eight years. But we haven't been drinking that long."
"Well, I haven't. I can't speak for you, though, you drunk," I joked, stealing a bottle of water from his table and downing some aspirin. "Are you ready to go?"
"I'm ready for anything, man!" he enthused, so obviously drunk that I couldn't help but shake my head at him. "I'm fucking buzzed. I'd say you're the one we'll be waiting on today."
I rolled my eyes, annoyed more because he was right than anything else. "I'm fine, bitch. Let's roll out." He giggled.
"You say that a lot," he told me, and once again my eyes rolled skywards as I clasped his skinny arm and dragged him towards the front door, all the while envisioning the day ahead of me.
And with my pounding headache and the repetitive giggling of my drunk boyfriend, I doubted it'd be a pleasant one.
---
Christmas shopping with Steven went surprisingly fast, all thanks to the fact that we'd both been drinking recently, leaving him just drunk enough to be full of ideas, and me just hungover enough to tell him in no uncertain terms which ideas sucked ass. And to be honest, that was most of them.
The aspirin kicked in after not too long, though, and that coupled with the black coffee I'd been sipping soon got me to a more human state of mind just in time to suggest he come back to my place to wrap the presents.
"You can help me put up the tree," I said as we exited the mall, shoes clopping on the parking lot pavement.
"You haven't put up your tree yet?" he said, sounding incredulous. "Christmas is on Thursday!"
I shrugged. "What can I say, my mom's been tripping balls. As usual," I said, unlocking the van and climbing in. "Are you gonna help me or not?"
"Sure," said Steven, shutting his own door when he was buckled in and ready to go. "Beats going home to an empty house again." He sounded so small all of a sudden, and it caught me off guard just enough to make me pause in pulling out of the parking space.
"Is that why you've been drinking?" I asked, eyes never straying from my rearview mirrors despite the urge to look at him when he answered me.
"I dunno," he said, his already-raspy voice growing even more so with emotion. "Maybe. I told my mom I was lonely and she offered to buy me a dog." I shot him a confused look, now exiting the parking lot and merging with the other cars on the road. "I don't want a dog. They're cute, but they're so high maintenance."
"Random," I said, heading for home with my mind elsewhere.
"Not really. We were talking about being lonely," he said, slurred words the only reminder that he was really drunk. "And I was talking to my mom about being lonely just this morning."
I furrowed my eyebrows. "Why were talking to your mom about your feelings?"
"Because she asked," he said, and we spent the rest of the ride in silence, both mulling things over.
I pulled into my driveway around 2:00 without any memory of having actually driven most of the way there; I'd been too lost in thought, my attention turned mostly on the sad fact that Steven was lonely enough to tell his mom when she asked.
I knew I couldn't be there for him 24/7, but I felt that I wanted to if just with the cover that I didn't want him getting alcohol poisoning in my absence. It just wasn't right for him so be alone; not when he was such a social person by very nature.
"You coming?" he said, breaking into my thoughts and pulling me back to the present to find that he'd already climbed out and was currently standing in the snow watching me with worried, expectant eyes.
"Yeah," I said, pulling my keys from the ignition and hopping onto the frozen ground. "Sorry."
We walked together up the the front door, the snow crunching beneath our feet remaining the only sound to cut the silence until we were inside where it was warm and empty.
"Home, sweet home," I said, closing the door and watching Steven wander towards the living room where our Christmas tree was already lying, surrounded by many boxes of ornaments. "I sort of started without you. I mean, I dragged in the tree and decorations; I didn't do anything else."
"It looks sad," said Steven, looking upon the scene with a deep frown twisting that oversized mouth.
He staggered a little, but mostly the trip he made over to where the tree lay was uneventful, ending with him pushing the tree onto its trunk with all the strength a 90-some-pound drunk could muster. I had to admit I was impressed when he managed to maneuver it onto its stand all on his own.
I frowned, because I remembered that he'd done most things on his own in recent history. After all, I could only be with him so many hours of the day when school was in session, which it had been almost the entirety of his illness.
"Doesn't that look better?" he asked, looking proudly at the short, misshapen tree without any regard for its flaws. "Still needs some lights and shit though."
"Not so fast, hot stuff," I said, grabbing his hand and intertwining his skinny fingers and mine. "First we make tea."
He laughed, though maybe just because he was intoxicated. "You and your tea."
"What can I say," I told him with a smirk. "I'm a strong believer in the power of hot beverages."
But I still made sure to make quick work of preparing two mugs of chai tea while Steven sat in his usual spot on the counter, looking rather dizzy, but also content, from the effects of the alcohol. I rolled my eyes and handed him his mug.
I set my cup down on the coffee table, and then moved to tune the radio to any station playing Christmas tunes. It made Steven grimace, but he didn't argue.
And then, we decorated.
We began with the lights, though Steven would hardly allow me to help him, leaving me instead to sit backwards in a chair and watch him struggle all while trying not to laugh. I failed, for the most part.
Eventually, though, the tree was lit, if a bit sloppily, and he sorted through ornaments while I began draping garland and humming along to the song on the radio.
I made very sure that it was evenly and thoroughly wrapped, and finished just in time to have Steven approach with the first ornaments in hand.
"Would you care to do the honors?" he asked, handing me a red bulb and gesturing to the tree, a smile tugging his lips and making me grin.
"Well, you're not going to let me say no, so I suppose I will," I said, picking a spot at the very middle of the tree and hanging the little bulb from a branch, then stepping back to admire my work.
"Beautiful," he said with a grin, and then we got to work hanging all the others, singing absently all the while.
And before too long, the tree was covered and stunning, despite its shortcomings in stature, and Steven was standing on the chair from earlier with mistletoe in hand, fixing it so it hung right in the center of the doorway.
He climbed down and moved the chair aside, and then stood expectantly under the hanging leaves and berries. "Coming?" he asked after waiting for some time with me just watching him and shaking my head.
"Might as well," I joked, and took his outstretched hand.
And then he kissed me gently under the mistletoe, and it was easily the best kiss of my life.