Book 3: You Don't Want My Love (Slash FanFic)

Ch. 17: Under My Thumb

"I just don't know what to do Stevie," I muttered hopelessly to the sleeping body lying next to me. I squeezed his hand, the warmth of it was the only proof I had that he was still alive. His breathing was soft and steady, nearly unnoticeable if you didn't look close enough. I was seated at his bedside, hovering over him and studying his blank features with bleary eyes. "I'm sorry I've been such an asshole, but I don't think I know any other way to be anymore."

Obviously there was no reply. Steven continued to sleep, and I might as well have been talking to a brick wall. Still, it felt almost therapeutic to be able to tell him things that I wouldn't have been able to articulate properly had I been forced to say it to his face.

It's hard business admitting when you're wrong, and it's even harder to apologize to someone who can barely stand to look at you anymore. At least this way was easier. I didn't have to see Steven cry or yell, and I didn't have to worry about him walking away again before I could find the right words to say. This way, he was right where I wanted him to be. Maybe that was selfish of me, but I couldn't help it. It was nice to finally have some one-on-one time with Steven without lawyers or fans or other band members breathing down our necks. I almost wished that he could be awake to enjoy the moment with me, though I feared that he would probably just tell me to fuck off. I know I would if I were him. Then again, he was a lot better of a person than I was.

"I brought you some coffee."

I shot up from where I'd been slouching over Steven's bedside, pulling my hand away from his as I went. Al had returned with a styrofoam coffee cup in each hand and a wad of chocolate chip cookies wrapped in napkins bulging from her pockets. She gave me a quizzical look, but thankfully didn't bother me with any questions.

"Th-thanks." My hands were trembling as I accepted one of the cups and began to sip at it. My tongue was immediately burned and all flavor was lost, but I kept drinking anyway.

I was suddenly very nervous. Al had walked in on a private moment that I hadn't really planned on allowing anyone to see or to know about-not even Steven. It was kind of embarrassing. Slash, infamous guitarist of the "World's Most Dangerous Band", and I'd just been caught sulking like a pussy. Caught red-handed by the girl who hated me, no less.

"Careful, it's still hot..." Al's voice trailed off as she watched me chug the scalding black liquid until there was nothing left. I handed the cup back to her which she awkwardly accepted, a perplexed look on her face. 

I hurriedly returned to my seat facing Steven, making it a point to look away from Al. Still, that didn't save me from her piercing gaze, and I could practically feel her irises as they burned holes into the back of my head.

"You can go home, you know," I informed her. I knew it was a long shot, but I needed to try someway to get rid of her. "You should be watching Pandora. That's what I'm paying you for, isn't it?"

"It is, but Pandora is stable for now," Al's voice was calm though I sensed a hint of annoyance hidden just under the surface. "When I heard about what had happened to your friend and how you refused to leave his side...well, I figured this must mean a lot to you."

It does. But that didn't mean that I wanted Al here to watch me fret over my best friend. I didn't like the thought of her seeing me in such a vulnerable state, not after I'd worked so hard to portray myself as unwaveringly cocky and confident. It was almost emasculating.

"I got the feeling when we first met that you don't care about much besides yourself" Okay, ouch. "so for you to be shaken up like this, I figured it was probably a big deal. I thought it might help to have someone here to support you."