Buttered Popcorn

Chapter 22: June 14, 1987

Steven had officially been home and out of the hospital for five days, and the band had decided to call off of the next few tour dates- though Axl needed some convincing to finally agree. They were back at the apartment in L.A., staying there temporarily as they figured they'd be back on the road after Steven recovered, and tensions were high.

Jimmie had yet to even look Axl in the eye, and simply dodged the other members whenever they approached. Of course, she still tended to Steve at a moment's notice without hesitation. He had her at his very fingertips, and it was beginning to bug the other guys.

Jimmie sat on the couch, keeping her head down in a book. She was obviously very angry with them, but she felt moronic holding such a grudge while also living in their apartment at no cost. She decided that she wouldn't provoke any conversation with them, and avoid one at all costs, but didn't have the nerve to be a bitch to their face. That's what she planned in her head, at least.

Duff was rummaging around through the cabinets in the kitchen a small distance away, paying no attention. She wanted to talk to him, to thank him for rushing her to the hospital to follow Steven. She also sort of wanted to yell at him for not showing up there either.

Skimming her eyes across the page yet understanding none of the content with the tension of Duff in the room, he eventually stopped scurrying about and hesitantly leaned against the doorway, facing her.

"Y'know... things are a little awkward around here."

She didn't want to look up, but figured it was in her best interests to respond, "I've noticed." She noticed how he and the doorframe were almost the same height once she brought her eyes to meet his.

"Are you gonna like... get over it?"

Jimmie wanted to assume he meant well by this, but couldn't take it any other way besides him subtly saying: 'We didn't do anything wrong! Stop bitching!'

She quietly grunted in disapproval and returned to her reading, to which Duff furrowed his eyebrows. "Do you expect us to let you hold a grudge until the end of time? You can't hate us forever, Slim Jim. It's actually a proven fact."

She chuckled a little and shook her head without saying a word. Duff took this as a good-enough sign that at least he was in the clear, and left with a few liquor bottles in hand. Jimmie also felt this was a satisfying resolution to a fraction of her issues sleeping within the apartment.

She dipped her eyes back down into the book after the blond walked out just for another to walk in.

"Hey, babe."

Jimmie's head shot up to find Steven in the kitchen, leaning over looking into the refrigerator. He wore a loose white tank top and a pair of college sweatpants. She wondered where he had gotten them, seeing as he had never went to college, or even finished high school.

She folded over her page at the corner and quickly made her way to the kitchen, leaning on the counter behind him, "How you feeling?"

He shrugged impassively, "Fine, just like yesterday."

As he turned back around, she met his eyes. Jimmie studied his bloodshot, blue eyes that hung tired. He reeked of marijuana smoke, and the both of them were no stranger to it.

Freshly out of the hospital for an overdose, she figured he should've had a wake-up call for his drug use by now. Though she had smoked weed with him before, and felt extremely guilty for it now, she wanted him to realize how dangerous these sorts of things can be.

But after all, his hospitalization after an overdosing must have been very stressful and exhausting for him, and he simply wanted to relax his nerves for a while.

Right?

A small frown found its way onto the girl's lips and he furrowed his eyebrows, "What's wrong?"

She couldn't bring herself to begin criticizing his drug use already. He had been relentlessly antagonized by many others for the very same reason, and though a very valid one, she didn't want to be on his list of people that turned into a record of meaningless 'get sober' speeches as so many others had become.

On the other hand, drugs were a very slippery slope. Smoking recreationally sometimes turns into only doing coke at parties, and would eventually escalate until he lands himself back in the hospital. Jimmie had never felt such heartbreak as the moment that she saw Steven's unconscious body taken away by paramedics right in front of her eyes. As the moment she found him, and she had though that she had lost him forever...

The weight of the ultimatum presented settled onto her shoulders as she realized the intensity of the situation. "Were you smoking?" she finally asked, knowing she would regret dismissing this in the future.

He dropped his eyes to focus on opening his beer and nonchalantly shrugged without response. Jimmie's eyes also fell to the glass bottle in his hands, and grew confused.

He was drinking and smoking just a week after returning from the hospital?

"And you're drinking." Her voice sounded frustrated though she was really just disappointed. She had so badly wanted to dismiss Izzy when he said Steven would do something like this again- that he'd start using again.

"So what? I'm fine, babe. A week outta the hospital, I think I can drink a beer." Steven failed to grasp the concept that he purposely and carelessly avoided breaking the cycle of his addiction- that he was slowly killing himself. Though it was only a single beer and some weed, she had felt almost pitiful and was desperate to help him.

"Steve..." Her hands gently met his, slipping out the beer bottle and replacing it with her own. "Do you want to watch a movie or something?"

He obliviously gave a sort of confused look and shrugged before resting his arm on her shoulders and beginning to walk to the couch. Jimmie subconsciously declared this as a success and tucked under his arm as they got comfortable.