Saved By Steven (the first story)

23. Calm Before Chaos

The afternoon light was just beginning to soften when a black car pulled up outside Lauren's apartment. Mick was already waiting downstairs, leaning against the door frame, scrolling through his phone with a soft smile. Lauren appeared a few minutes later, sunglasses on, lips tight around a cigarette.

"You look nice," Mick said as she approached, eyeing her black jeans, leather jacket, and eyeliner that was maybe trying too hard not to smudge.
"Thanks," she muttered. "You clean up okay too."

Mick laughed and stubbed out his own cigarette as they slid into the back of the car. On the ride to the concert venue, Lauren leaned her head against the window, chain-smoking, barely saying a word. Mick was preoccupied anyway, texting his new girlfriend between excited updates about the band and the setlist.

Lauren didn't respond. Her stomach was in knots, partly from nerves, partly from the last hit she'd taken before putting on her makeup. She was coming down again, and she hated how brittle she felt when she wasn't high. Her fingers trembled slightly as she lit another cigarette. She hadn't told Mick about the sleepover with Steven. She definitely hadn't told him she was using again.

When they arrived at the venue, Steven was already outside, pacing near the service entrance in dark jeans and a loose fitting blouse, hair slightly tousled from rehearsal. His face lit up when he saw them.
"You made it!" he said, hugging Mick and pulling Lauren in with a warmth that startled her.
"Early birds," Mick grinned. "No classes this afternoon."
"Good. I wanted you to see everything before the crowd shows up. C'mon."

Steven gave them a brief tour—backstage corridors, sound booths, the cavernous main stage lit by dim amber lights and crisscrossing rig cables. Lauren followed, hands in her pockets, barely speaking. Her eyes were sharp, though, scanning exits, mirrors, and bags.

As Steven led Mick off to show him the lighting rig, Lauren excused herself."Bathroom," she said quickly, already walking toward the dressing rooms.
Inside the bathroom, Lauren locked the door and leaned against it, her heart pounding. She fumbled in her purse for the small plastic bag tucked into her makeup pouch. Two short lines on the back of the toilet. She sniffed fast, without ceremony. It wasn't about the ritual anymore—it was survival. She closed her eyes as the rush hit her bloodstream. Moments later, she felt the artificial calm wash over her like warm fog.

Back in the hallway, she detoured to catering. She knew Steven wouldn't drink before the show—none of the band did. But the staff didn't stop her as she grabbed a bottle of Grey Goose and poured some into a water bottle she'd been pretending was lemonade. She took a long drink, wincing at the burn, then capped it and slid it into her purse before returning to the dressing rooms.

She and Steven nearly collided in the doorway."Whoa," Steven said, catching her by the shoulders.Lauren grinned, eyes glassy. "Take it easy, rock star.""I was just looking for you," he said, smiling back. "We're doing sound check. You want to come?""Absolutely."
He put an arm around her shoulder casually, protectively, and led her toward the stage. Lauren leaned into it just a little. She liked the feel of him beside her, liked that someone was looking out for her—even if she was lying through her teeth.
The sound check was electric. The empty venue amplified the instruments like thunder. Mick sat near the front, still buried in texts and conversation with his girlfriend, while Lauren took a seat just behind the pit. She smoked and sipped quietly, her nerves dull now but her mind buzzing.The band tore through three songs, adjusting levels, grinning at each other like it was their first gig all over again. Steven kept looking over at Lauren and Mick between takes. Lauren waved back with a lazy smile, then turned her attention inward again. The goosebumps were returning. She needed more.
After the check, everyone split to get ready. Mick left to meet his girlfriend at the entrance. Lauren wandered backstage again, hovering in Joe's dressing room for a few minutes. But the noise, the chatter, the bright lights—everything grated on her now. She slipped out and made her way back to Steven's room.
She locked the door behind her, pulled the blinds, and got back to it. More coke. A stronger hit this time. She was already drinking—why not fly a little higher?
The comedown from that was rougher, though. Her heart felt strange—like it was tapping SOS in morse code. Her stomach churned. Lauren laid down on the couch, stuffed her earbuds in, and pretended to sleep. When she heard the door open and voices enter, she stayed still, eyes shut, breath slow.Steven came in, his voice lowering when he saw her."Let her sleep," he said to the others.
They filed out quietly.
Steven stayed behind, changing clothes. When Lauren finally opened her eyes, still groggy and hazy, he was pulling on a button-up shirt, his chest bare."Well, good afternoon to you," he said with a smile.Lauren blinked hard. "Hi.""You looked wiped out earlier," Steven said, walking over. "Feel better?""A little.""Want to rest more?""No, I've gotta use the bathroom.""Use mine—it's just down the hall."

Lauren stood up, grabbing her bag quickly.Steven frowned. "What's with the bag?""Girl stuff," she lied, already heading for the door.But the moment it closed behind her, she veered toward the catering table again.
Just before the show started, Lauren rejoined Mick and his girlfriend in the sound and lighting booth. The music was already blaring, the lights flashing like memory-loss. She clapped and danced along for the first few songs, but her hands felt like they didn't belong to her.
"I'm going backstage," she said abruptly to Mick.He looked over, distracted. "Everything okay?""I just want to see it from the wings."He nodded. "Alright. Don't get lost."She smiled thinly, already walking away.
As the beat pounded behind her, Lauren slipped past the curtain and into the shadows, the small plastic bottle still tucked in her jacket, her skin prickling with the strange, empty comfort of being high and invisible.