Saved By Steven (the first story)

33. Going away?

That night, Steven took Lauren back to his hotel room. She barely stirred as he carried her inside. She slept for hours, through the night and most of the next day, while Steven sat awake, watching her breath. He tried closing his eyes a few times, but every time she shifted—rolling on and off his chest, twitching in her dreams—he stayed alert. 

By the time noon came, Steven's eyes burned from exhaustion. The soft knock of room service pulled him from his thoughts. He let the server in, thanked them and wheeled the cart toward the bed just as Lauren stirred beneath the sheets.

Her eyelids fluttered open, heavy and slow."Well... hello," Steven said, forcing a light smile as he poured coffee into two cups."Hi." Her voice was barely above a whisper, rough and dry."How are you feeling?" He caught himself before asking if she was okay. She obviously wasn't."Fine." She said it automatically, the same way she always did when she didn't want to explain.Steven studied her. Pale. Dark circles under her eyes. Her lips chapped. Her hands shaking as they gripped the blanket. She looked anything but fine."No, you're not." His tone was soft, but firm. "You feel sick... and you want more drugs, right?"Lauren froze, her gaze darting to him. For a moment, something in her face cracked—a flicker of guilt, shame, then anger."I'm fine," she repeated, her voice hardening, though it lacked conviction.Steven sighed. "You don't have to lie to me."

Her pulse quickened.
He knew. Of course he knew.
And now, with the word 'drugs' hanging between them, the craving roared louder in her chest. Her stomach twisted like something alive. She could taste it—the bitter chemical rush on the back of her tongue, the burn in her nostrils, the way the world would go quiet for just a little while.

God, she needed it. Just a bump. Just one hit.

But Steven's eyes were on her, heavy with concern, and that made her want to crawl out of her skin. Without answering, Lauren rolled onto her back, yanking the covers over her head as if they could shield her from his gaze, his questions, her own need.

Hours crawled by in silence. Steven sat by the window, staring down at the city, listening to her shallow breathing under the sheets. Every so often, he'd open his mouth like he wanted to say something, but the words never came.
Finally, a knock broke the stillness. Steven stood, opened the door, and let Joe in."Hi, Joe. Thanks for coming," Steven said quietly."No problem." Joe stepped inside, giving the room a quick once-over.
"Everything sorted?""Yeah. Just got off the phone with the tour manager.""Good."
Joe lowered his voice. "So... why am I here?"Steven glanced toward the bed. "I need your help with Lauren. She won't talk to me. Won't get out of bed."
Joe followed his gaze, then walked over to the lump of blankets. He sat on the edge of the mattress, leaned down, and gently pulled the covers back. Joe and Lauren had a different connection than Steven and Lauren.  She looked at him with her puppy dog eyes, the same she had at the school. He felt sorry for her.

Hey, kiddo."
Lauren blinked at him, her pupils blown wide. Her lips trembled like she wanted to speak but didn't know what to say.
"You want some coffee?" he asked lightly.
"No."
"You want some drugs?"
Her breath hitched. "Yes." The word slipped out before she could stop it.
Joe's face softened, but his voice stayed steady. "Can't do that. How about a hug?"

Something in her broke then. She sat up slowly, moving like her bones were made of glass. Joe wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. She shook against him, silent at first—then a sob clawed its way out of her throat.
When he let her go, he saw the tears staining her cheeks.
His chest ached.
God, she was a wreck. The rape, the binging, the booze, the rehab, the so-called fresh start at school—none of it had saved her. And being abandoned by her so-called friends? That had pushed her into the abyss.
"Here." Joe handed her a lit cigarette, then passed one to Steven. "Let's all take a breath."The three of them sat in silence, smoke curling between them like ghosts. Lauren stared at the glowing tip of her cigarette, her hands trembling so badly ash spilled onto her lap.
The craving was still there.
Loud.
She could practically hear it in her head: One line. Just one. You'll feel better. You'll be you again.She closed her eyes. God, I want it. Please, just let me have it. One more time.
But instead, Steven spoke. "Lauren... we have news."She looked up, eyes wary."You can come on tour with us," Joe said.Lauren blinked. "What?""Tour," Steven said. "We don't want you here anymore. This place—it's killing you.""I'm fine.""No, you're not," Steven snapped. "Yesterday you had a panic attack and used.""So? That was one time.""Lauren!" Steven's voice cracked with desperation. "Please. Mick's worried too. He said he'd come if it makes you more comfortable.""I can't just leave," she whispered. "I have a job.""Mick said you can quit whenever you want.""But—"

A knock cut her off. Mick walked in, tension etched in every line of his face.
"Mick, thanks for coming," Steven said.

"No." Lauren shook her head violently. "No. No, no. I'm not doing this. No."
Before anyone could stop her, she stormed past Mick, out the door, down the hall toward the elevator. The guys followed slowly—they knew she wouldn't get far.

"Lauren, come on!" Mick called. "You didn't even say hi."
"No!" Her voice echoed. "This is just like rehab! Fuck you guys!"
Then she was gone.
"Fuck," Steven muttered.
"Well, that went well," Joe said dryly.
"For Christ's sake," Mick growled, pacing. "This is so fucked up."
"Where do you think she's going?" Joe asked.
"To use," Steven and Mick said at the same time.
And they were right.

Lauren scored fast. She knew where to go. Cocaine and liquor her go to.
Hours later, she stumbled back to the hotel lobby, wrecked. Her hair was a tangled mess, her eyeliner smeared, her body weaving like a broken marionette.

The guys were waiting in the lobby. She tried for the elevator, but Joe intercepted her before she collapsed.
"Well, look who's back," he said gently.
"Fkoff, Jo," she slurred.
"No, baby. Not tonight." He steered her toward the couch.
"Lemme go," she mumbled, her limbs swaying.

"Lauren, focus on me," Mick said, crouching in front of her. He grabbed her chin, forcing her glassy eyes to his. "You and me—we're leaving. With Steven and Joe."
"I... don't... want... to," she breathed, words broken.
"I know. But we need to get you out. Help you get well."
"I like... it... here."
"I know, sweetheart." His voice was soft, breaking. "Will you come with me?"
"Will... you... let me... sleep?"
"If you say yes."

"Yes." Her head dropped onto Steven's shoulder.

"We did it," Joe said under his breath.
"Almost," Steven said grimly. "Now we just have to get her on the plane. And sober."
"Fuck," Joe muttered.
"Let's get her up," Mick said.