It was happening again.

From the claustrophobia pounding in his chest, to the inability to slow down his breathing, Steven was having a panic attack, and he had absolutely no way of controlling it.

He fell forward on his hands and knees, gravel scratching his bare skin, and started coughing up the mucus his sobs had made.

Leah was gone. The woman he had declared his love for as his final straw, had gone. Left him begging on his knees as a man he didn't recognise, and he could do nothing but watch her go.

He may have meant each of those three words indefinitely, gave himself a bit of hope when she let him kiss her with every bit of truth he had denied her, but it still wasn't enough.

It was never enough. He was simply not good enough for her, and he didn't deserve her.

Drugs had torn him down and shattered love, but he refused to pass out from a broken heart that he had only himself to blame for.

"Focus on yourself and your family, Steven. Do it this time...please"

Despite not wanting to let the end of Trow Rico out of his sight, Steven started to crawl back up to the house. He clung onto the pebble retaining wall to haul himself up the first step, and then stumbled up the rest to the door.

How he managed to make it into the kitchen, when he was dizzy and couldn't breathe properly, was a bit of a miracle, so it came as a fitting end when his knees buckled whilst slamming a palm over his phone on the kitchen counter, and collapsed onto the floor.

His phone slipped out from under his hand, making an awful noise when it hit solid wood beside him, and one that had probably branched out the existing thin crack in the screen he had yet to fix.

Sniffing and wheezing, Steven dragged himself up in order to sit with his back against the worktop. He was sliding his phone closer with a tingling hand in the process, and when he turned it over, the screen was completely shattered.

It still worked, but it took him three painstaking attempts to put in his passcode when his thumb print wasn't recognised, and because of the tears that kept interfering with the dodgy touchscreen.

Opening up his contacts, Steven's immediate thought was to call Ray because he lived fairly close, he could easily be conveniently free, and it was probably the option with the least amount of hassle, but he remembered the guy was still recovering from a fractured wrist and couldn't actually drive.

So his next choice, which by default was always his first, was Joe, who was two hours away back in Boston probably lounging about in his apartment with either a guitar or a girl across his lap.

Steven didn't think he could last two hours on his own, but tapping hard on Joe's name that swayed the balance of his phone on his shaking knee, and watching the call go through, was his only choice.

He was whispering pleas over his jumpy inhales, increasingly anxious when the dial tone kept ringing, beyond terrified that he was about to be aired as he tapped the mashed icon for speakerphone, but the call timer started at the top, and he was saved.

"Hey man, what's up?"

Steven didn't think he had ever felt so relieved to hear Joe's voice, cheerful to the point he could picture the smile of his best friend, but it had given him a lifeline.

"Steven? You there?"

There was background noise that he couldn't quite place, or maybe it was him beginning to hear things.

"Steven?"

Opening his eyes, Steven looked down at the phone he held loosely over his knee, taking a deep breath to get his voice to work.

"Joe..." he said faintly. " I-I..."

"Steven? What's wrong? Where are you?"

The questions were fast. Too fast for him to keep up. Everything was too hard to explain when he couldn't stop shaking, and his body was slowly shutting down on him.

"I-can'td breathe, Joe, I-"

"Shit, where are you? Are you still at the lake house?"

Steven nodded weakly which hurt so much, he had to close his eyes again. His unbent leg was bouncing on the floor. He was cold, sweaty, and wanted to wake up from this nightmare.

"Steven?" Joe's voice sounded from the phone. "You're at Sunapee, yeah?"

"Ye-es." Steven gulped in another round of pointless air, placing his unoccupied left hand flat on his rapidly rising chest. "I need you...please."

"Hang on, Steven. Let me just-"

The monotonous background noise that he couldn't quite figure out, was added to by another hushed voice. It distracted him from the state of his pain, but he was desperate for help.

He didn't want to be alone. Being alone scared him.

"You're lucky I'm driving roughly in that direction," Joe said, at a normal volume. "I'll come and get you. Just hang tight."

The mention of luck after Steven had thrown his chance away, made him start whimpering again. His lip trembled with a fresh purpose, and the stinging in his nose resulted in more choked sobs.

"You gotta try counting, Steven. You need to calm down."

Hearing the firmness in Joe's voice hurt him even more. He couldn't focus sitting up, not that he really was anyway, so he lay down awkwardly on his side and dropped his phone next to his head.

"Sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shout," Joe retraced, softening his tone. "You're just scaring me, Steven. You're really scaring me."

Nose running, hands tingling, Steven blinked heavily at the outline of his phone that was responsible for another faint conversation on the other end on top of road noise.

"Ho-ow fffar?" he croaked, shivering in his silk robe.

"I'm about half an hour away, and that's me breaking the speed limit."

Steven was nodding his head vaguely on the floor as two more tears leaked from his eyes. It was easier to keep them closed.

"...tell him..."

"I don't know!"

"...something-..."

"I've never...like this."

"...try... needs you, Joe."

The second voice in the car was definitely female. Steven may have been forced to listen to his own shaky inhales and unsatisfactory exhales, but he wasn't deaf. It was just that he was in his car this morning with someone he loved too, and it was hard to forget about.

"Hey Steven, do you remember when you first met me at The Anchorage?"

Unexpected, but the diversion back to a happy point in his teenage years, temporarily put a pause to his whimpers.

"Ye-eah," he replied, finding the memory with ease. "Best ff-ucking fries...ever."

"Yeah," Joe agreed, basking in the compliment. "Because guess who made them?"

Steven managed a smile that was half squashed into the floor. He pictured Joe's whilst driving, probably remembering it like he was.

"And then you came back three days later when I was on shift again, made me sit down in the booth and watch you eat a portion," Joe recalled, at the perfect pace so he could relive the exact events with him. "You took a huge bunch of fries in your fist, shovelled them in your mouth in one go, finished them, gulped down your soda at a ridiculous speed and then told me you would come down to The Barn...You missed the whole set, but confidently told me I played shit until Rattlesnake Shake, which was definitely the only song you heard."

Steven laughed, well, tried to. Remembering Joe's short cropped black hair and the black horned rimmed glasses with a piece of tape in the middle, was a relaxing image for his congested head to visualise.

"But I wouldn't change it for the world," Joe continued in the same fond tone. "Not a damn thing."

Just as he thought he was beginning to calm down, Steven's phone buzzed next to his head. Mustering up some strength, he propped himself up, but his face drained of colour when he saw the jagged low battery warning.

"No, no-o my phone!"

"Steven? What's the-"

The call ended. The screen went black.

Steven tried tapping it furiously, fumbled with the buttons on the edge, but there was no power, and the closest charger was too far away.

"Joe!" he cried, weakly bashing his dead phone against the floor. "Jooee!"

The useless, damaged gadget slipped from his hand, and he rolled onto his back, weeping pathetically at the ceiling.

Half an hour was a long time to wait all alone.

<>

Four tyres crunched to a halt.

Steven heard it surprisingly clearly, including the slamming of doors, but that was because he hadn't closed the front door.

Maybe if it was the peak summer season, a couple of his Trow Rico friends might have dropped by and found him sooner, but it wasn't, and he had been all alone.

"Steven!"

Steven hadn't really moved. He'd become paralysed, curled up on his side shaking after coughing up some disgusting phlegm, and staring at the same section of the sofa until it danced in his vision.

Everything looked strange sideways, particularly when two pairs of legs interrupted his competitive staring contest.

"Steven, I'm here." Joe was carefully scooping him up, and sliding his hands under his arms to help him stand up. "Billie, can you get some tissues a-and some water? Glasses are in the second cupboard, or maybe the third."

Steven fell like a puppet, chin overshooting the shoulder he was guided to, and his arms stiffly and awkwardly bundled against Joe's jacket.

"I've got you," Joe sighed in relief, wrapping an arm protectively around his waist with a hand smoothing down the back of his hair. "You're safe now."

With the comfort, the familiar cologne, and soft, black hair inundating his weary senses, Steven started crying. He didn't think it was possible to shed more tears, but looping his heavy arms to reciprocate the hug, tugging and clawing at the navy material of Joe's jacket between his fingers, he couldn't help it.

"You scared me back there," Joe said, over the whimpers. "I didn't know what had happened."

Instead of explaining his phone ran out of battery, because he knew he couldn't, Steven hugged him tighter and buried his messed up face out of view.

"Let him sit down, Joe," the female voice advised behind them. "He's shaking."

Steven was gently pried away, and knowing his mouth was drooping sadly, eyes bloodshot and sore, cheeks stiff from constant tears, he ducked his head down in shame.

Guided with an arm around him, Steven sat down and made himself as small as possible, which wasn't very hard to do when his arms were bunched inwards to narrow his shoulders, and his legs were not even close to being spread apart.

He saw Joe reach for the foot stool so he could sit in front of him, and then he carefully readjusted the twisted, silk robe.

Skilled, guitar toughened fingers touched the shiny material of the only layer that covered Steven's naked body, undoing the knot that had loosened but making sure it didn't flap open, and re-tying it so the gap of his chest was hidden away.

It meant Steven could only watch the bridge of Joe's nose, the crease in between dark eyebrows that were mostly hidden by the flop of fluffy hair, but he wasn't going to stop his best friend from making him more comfortable.

A box of tissues and a glass of water had Joe looking up, and he half stood to take the items. For Steven, the presence of this woman reminded him of the one he had selfishly lost, and all of the distraught feelings rushed back.

"S-she fo-ound...sh-he-"

"Steven, breathe."

With a touch to his knees, Steven stopped mumbling. He couldn't really focus on walls or windows, but when a healthy amount of tissues were held encouragingly for his taking, he accepted his nose needed attention.

His fingers felt foreign, but he managed to fold a double layer in half, and blow his nose. It was grim, but his head felt half the weight and didn't pound as aggressively.

"She's go-one," Steven whimpered, wobbling the saddest of frowns. "She...fffound-"

"Shh, don't try to explain." Joe was brave to take the used tissue out of his limp hand that had fallen on the cushion. "But goddammit, Steven. I told you this would happen. She's way too smart."

Peaked with regret because it was true, Steven hung his head. It didn't last long because after a sigh, Joe was tilting up his chin, and waving another tissue in front of his nose.

He didn't want to look at the disappointed frown ahead of him, so Steven screwed his eyes closed, blowing his nose again, and tried to keep his shoulders still rather than shaking every few seconds.

"Here, have a drink of water."

Joe placed each of his hands around the cool glass, and helped him bring it up to his lips. Steven did have to open his eyes, although his sight didn't stop the rim clacking his teeth from a sudden shiver, but he independently sipped on the liquid and drank a decent amount until Joe was satisfied and took the glass away.

Sympathy mixed with a frustration was what Steven was left to reluctantly look at. Joe studied him over with stern, yet kind brown eyes, hunched forward on the footstool, and eventually sighed.

"I'll be back in a second."

Steven didn't quite have the strength to turn and watch him leave.

"Can you stay with him for a moment?" Joe asked quietly, touching Billie's back. She was wringing out a cloth in the sink. "I'm going to find him some clothes."

She nodded in understanding.

"Sure."

Joe kissed the side of her head which made her smile, briefly checked Steven's unmoved posture over the top of the couch, and then jogged upstairs.

Billie, in the meantime, took a damp cloth and resumed her other half's previous position sitting on the footstool.

"Who're you?" Steven asked bluntly, as the cloth touched his cheek.

"Nice to meet you too," the female responded sarcastically, finishing a careful path to his chin. She sympathised with his confused expression. "I'm Billie."

Controlling a recovery breath that jumped in his chest, Steven studied her. A kind pair of clear blue eyes, long shiny blonde hair parted centrally with delicate shaping at the front, elegant cheekbones, and with a splashing of natural makeup to bring out her features.

She looked like a model, which meant she probably was one, and Joe had scored an absolute stunner of a woman.

She just wasn't the woman he wanted.

"You're very pretty, Billie," Steven complimented, resting his head back. "But, I'm already ta-aken."

"As..." she drawled, leaning forward to mirror the same path on his other cheek. "Am I."

From then on, Steven flinched every time his face was dabbed, but not because he didn't appreciate the consideration to clean him up, it was because he knew he wouldn't be with Leah to celebrate her birthday in a few weeks, have their first Christmas together, and everything else that followed in a relationship.

He was going to be alone, without the woman he had fallen desperately in love with, and that prospect made it very difficult not to get upset again.

"I'm such a fucking mess," Steven confessed aloud, surprised when his voice didn't shake.

The final dab around his nose was slowly relieved.

"Then let us help you."

Steven couldn't look at Billie. It was easier if he kept his head stiff to the back of the sofa, fighting against the lump in his throat.

"Joe told me you have a little girl," Billie continued, in his silence. "I'm sure she most of all will want you to be that person she can rely on for the rest of her life."

Steven bit the inside of his lip. He didn't like feeling vulnerable, and it reminded him of when Leah did it last time.

"Asking for help isn't something to be ashamed of," Billie went on softly, effortlessly wise in her words. "And accepting it will make your life a lot easier."

When the stairs creaked, she placed a hand on his knee which seemed to be the preferred choice of comfort. Maybe, they didn't want to hug him because he was that fragile.

"Just...think about it."

Billie stood up after that, and announced she would be in the car when Joe returned.

Again, Steven was relying on his hearing because he didn't need insult to injury seeing a couple interact with each other. All the little messages that only they would understand. Smiles, brief touches, and appreciation for each other in every way humanly possible.

He had thrown all of those opportunities away, because of an addiction he had lived with most of his life.

"You okay?"

Startled, Steven opened his eyes, smudging them with his wrist to unblur his vision.

"Hm? Yeah, I'm good," he lied, sitting up straight.

Joe took his answer wearily, particularly when he cleared his raspy throat, but was offered the contents of the occupied hands nonetheless.

"Thanks." Steven accepted the neat pile, and rested it on the seat cushion beside him. 

Charcoal jeans with rips in the knees, a t-shirt, a loose fitting white jumper with thick black vertical stripes, and a pair of socks and boxers on the top.

Standing up slowly, Steven started untying the knot on his robe. It was just a step too far for Joe who turned around with haste.

"You've seen my penis, Joe."

The guitarist held up a countering finger.

"Not consensually."

Point taken, Steven shimmied off his robe, remained naked for approximately ten seconds as he stepped into fresh underwear, and gave the all clear when he was decent.

"Where were you headed?" he asked, buttoning up his jeans.

"Oh, just a trip up to Vermont," Joe dismissed, walking back to the kitchen. He scratched the back of his hair. "Nothin' special."

Once his top half was covered and he'd done up a few of the silver poppers on his jumper, Steven followed in Joe's footsteps.

It was strange walking past the exact spot of his confession and it threatened his balance, but he took a deep breath, and pushed on.

Steven could tell Joe's mind was preoccupied from the toned arms crossed over his chest and strong stare out of the window.

"You're allowed to be happy," he said, plonking a hand on his shoulder. "I don't want you to think you...can't."

Joe looked at him.

"Do you want to go after Leah?"

Just the mention of her name made him tense up. A twitch in his cheek. A trample over his heart. It was hard to keep looking into eyes that tried to fill him with hope when he was already too weak.

"She told me not to," Steven recalled painfully. His hand slid back to his side, fingers curling to press into his thumb.

"Is that going to stop you?"

The immediate thought was no, but when he'd said his piece, made his confession, and she'd responded with hers, he had to respect it, even if that last kiss would linger on his lips for the rest of time.

"I lied to her, repeatedly," Steven said stiffly, turning away. He rolled his shoulders and tried to loosen the muscles in his neck. "She doesn't deserve that."

"But you will when you're clean?"

Honestly, he didn't know. He needed to take one step at a time before he got lost down the dark road to addiction. Admitting the requirement for help properly might give him the chance of being the father he wanted to be and the successful frontman, but he was fearing the worst for another chance at a relationship when he had blown two opportunities already.

Three times a charm was a pipe dream if he carried on with his current self.

"You should go," Steven urged monotonously. His eyes were glued to the painting of the two deer and the misty mountain backdrop on the statement wall ahead of him, because nature had always been his escape. "Get back on the road."

"But are you goin' to-"

He held out a clenched fist, suddenly constrained in his chest.

"I just...need the space."

As he was already behind the couch, Steven braced his hands wide and breathed in deeply to calm himself down.

"Hey." Joe was holding his wrist firmly. "Don't push me away."

"I'm not," Steven insisted, curling his fingers into the fabric. "I'm not."

It wasn't another panic attack, although his breathing had started to get heavier, but it was similar to the signs of him losing his temper.

So when Joe touched his back and stepped closer with an intention, he thought that was it- he would snap, lash out, and hurt someone else he loved.

As it turned out, it was quite the opposite. Steven stood up slowly, became so stuck trying to figure out Joe's stern expression, that he couldn't deny himself the hug.

Like that, the fears were drained of power, his virtues were no longer clouded and it was just Joe and him.

"You know you're my brother, right? I'd do pretty much anything for you. Y'know, I'd give you a kidney if I had to."

Steven hugged him tighter.

"Which means I want to see you happy again too. And I saw, I mean really saw that when you were with Leah. The day I picked you up at the airport? You were completely sold- you couldn't stop looking at her in the car. Band practice? Apart from me warning you about the fucking pills, you sang for her."

"But you don't understand," Steven protested, hiding his face. He didn't want his voice to crack again. "What I did-"

Joe tapped his back.

"Maybe I don't, maybe you really fuckin' hurt her because you were a complete dick, but if you let her go forever, you will never forgive yourself."

Having been cut off and forced to listen, Steven was battled into silence.

He was left to process two very important details he had: a phone number and an address. Two things that if he did decide to go back, might be his saviours.

It just wasn't the right time.

Joe pulled away, holding his shoulders.

"Text me when you're home, yeah?" He smiled a little. "I'll be back in town for the weekend."

Steven nodded, let go, and endured another goodbye.

"Joe?" he called out, fumbling his feet towards the door.

He stopped, as did his sudden panic, when Joe poked his head back.

Steven fidgeted his fingers, trying to put on a smile.

"Um, thank you for everything. I-uh really appreciate it...a lot."

Joe's snaggle tooth was making a friendly appearance underneath his lip. Somehow, he still glowed with the clouded sky behind him.

"Go home," he urged, emphasising with stern brown eyes. "You'll feel better when you see Liv."

"Yeah," Steven mumbled faintly. He looked down and found a hole in his sock, big toe poking out. "Yeah, I know."

"I'll see you soon."

Steven looked up to catch the parting smile, contemplated whether to watch Joe and Billie leave from the top of the steps, but he didn't.

Instead, keeping his chin held high, he climbed the stairs to the master bedroom to pack up his suitcase.

Changing his life for the better, getting clean properly, and never ever looking back was what Steven had to do, and maybe then, and only then, would he give his all to get his happy ending with Leah.

He loved her, and that alone was always worth fighting for.

<>