Dream On, the song that had been started fifteen years ago in a personalised black notebook, was finally complete.

Steven finished it the day he returned from Lake Sunapee because he spent the remainder of the daylight hours locked in the studio at the end of his parent's garden, ignoring everything and everyone, until the inspiration had burned out.

His fingers hit the keys over and over, humming the vocal part until he was convinced it worked, and the only break from playing the haunting melody was when he jotted down the missing lyrics and the grand finale that had puzzled him for so long.

After two hours, Steven stopped, piano stool creaking, back aching, and thinking that he should have been a lot more satisfied staring at the potential big hit in front of him. If it weren't for the knock at the door, he might have stayed there all night wondering if it was good enough after all.

Darkness shrouding the outside, Steven stood, clicked his back, and unlocked the door. He may have been tired, but seeing his daughter dressed in her pyjamas and fighting to be put down from his own mother's arms, gave him that bit of extra energy.

"Daddy!"

"Hi gorgeous girl, I'm home early!"

Steven hoisted Liv up, cradling her into his side. She smelled all clean when he kissed and nibbled her cheek, pretending to eat her skin, and hearing her protesting squeals put an instant smile to his face.

"Do you want to hear a song I've been working on?" Steven asked his daughter, before his home arrival the same evening he had left, was ridiculed. "Maybe Nona will too if we ask her nicely."

He tried to distract himself carrying Liv to the piano and making sure she was comfortably sitting on his lap, but the truth was, nothing could ever prepare him to hear what he didn't want to hear.

He was a guilty man, and he wasn't getting away with it.

"She found out, didn't she?"

Reluctantly, Steven looked towards his mother standing in the doorway lit up by the glow of the outside light. The open door kept a cool draft to counteract the heating, another chill shivering down his spine.

"You knew?"

Susan gave him stern eyes.

"I'm your mother. Of course I knew."

"Then why...why didn't you say something?"

"You're an adult, Steven. A father. I thought you would have come to your senses when you were with Leah."

Ridden with shame, Steven felt his chest tighten.

"That's what Joe said," he mumbled, turning back to the piano.

Struck into a deep thought, he let Liv play with his left hand by placing his fingers onto the keys. She pressed a few odd notes herself, and it wasn't the first time she had expressed an interest in music.

"Go to rehab. Please. Don't kill your career before you've even started it," Susan said, pulling the door closed behind her.

She walked over, but was visibly relaxing from her strict demands.

"I promise I will." With his mother's gentle hands cradling his face, Steven tilted his head back. "And I'll start looking for a place of my own too, when I've got a bit more money."

A lingering kiss was placed on top of his head.

"I love you, Stevie. You know I'll always be proud of you, and for you to be happy and healthy is all we want."

Having such a close relationship with his parents was something Steven had always tried to maintain. Even when he rebelled at school and took all the wrong turns after being warned about them, he never forgot where he came from.

He couldn't go back and change what he had done, listen when he should have, because that would involve not chasing his dream. If anything, it made him human, and it definitely made him, him.

"I love you too," Steven returned softly, looking up at the woman who had given him his life. "And I will. I promise I'll do it right."

Susan stopped stroking the curls of his hair around his ears, letting up with the briefest of smiles.

"Don't be too long, it's bedtime for Liv."

"Ooh, I think we can have a late night, yeah blue?"

Liv was sucking her thumb when he hugged her close, and from how she tried to grab his hand again to place back on the keys, she hadn't been listening.

Susan said goodnight over the little whines, and after he echoed the parting, Steven was alone with his daughter who continued to make unhelpful noises whilst tugging his wrist. She was getting there with words, but sometimes, he still didn't know what she wanted.

"What? What do you want?"

"Play!"

Sitting at a piano, having his hands grabbed...Steven's dumb moment passed.

"Oh." He was mentally questioning himself, but hovered the toe of his shoe over the sustain pedal. "Right yeah, of course that's what you meant."

It didn't to start with, because his mind was elsewhere, but once he played through a slow version of Dream On, singing softly along with it, and transitioned into one of his father's favourite pieces to play; Schubert's Serenade, Steven felt some peace.

Liv watched his hands, but he could tell she was falling asleep leaning into his right side the longer he played for.

A perfect cadence ended his practice and locking up the mini studio, Steven carried a sleepy Liv in his arms back up to the house.

He took his time settling her in bed, but wasn't surprised that she was out like a light, and then turned in himself which his parents gratefully understood.

Steven stood staring at his bed for a while, not quite believing he was going to have a first night alone when the night before he had gone to sleep and woken up with his arms around Leah. It was wrong- he knew it- but after much pointless consideration, he couldn't help but take the pillow she had slept on and cuddle it into his chest when he did lay down on his side.

His nose was buried in it in a heartbeat, and with a scent so strong, it quickly reduced him to tears.

He squeezed his eyes shut to try and stop them escaping, but the more he choked on his cries to keep them quiet, the worse they got.

It was one thing sleeping in an empty bed hours after a break-up, but going back to a fear of nightmares because he was alone made everything worse. Being with Leah stopped them, and with that chance ruined, he couldn't even turn to snorting anxiety pills to help him. Withdrawal symptoms on top of all that would make sleep near enough impossible, and Steven knew he was about to go through further hell.

If he slept that night, it was because he cried himself to sleep, but his heart beat strong, and would continue to do so when he had love to fight for.

After all, he had promises to keep, and he was a man of his word.

<>

In the week after his breakup, Steven booked himself into rehab with a programme that allowed him to be at home so he wasn't away from Liv for too long.

He took the advice from the people who cared about him, the people who loved him, and accepted the help to stop his addiction. He just hated how much his body despised the sobering process and shook him with an overflow of anxiety.

He was sick and sweaty, but he knew that the first week was always the worst. The first month, if he was being truly honest with himself.

But Steven was so determined to be a strong father figure for Liv as she was growing up, and he couldn't let his drug habits take her away from him again. And maybe if he did that and worked on himself enough, Leah might give him another chance.

He'd do anything for another chance.

The days went slowly as expected, and Joe returned from Vermont with Billie on Friday. An 'accidental' leakage from Steven about the model girlfriend situation in the group chat had band practice organised for Saturday, and even though Joe was far from pleased about not being the one to declare his relationship status, he also wouldn't have made a big deal out of it anyway.

He was too reserved and respectful like that, especially when relationships were a bit of a touchy subject.

Steven declared Dream On as a finished product, played it, and received four impressed smiles and approval, and it led to the suggestions of getting it recorded so it could be released as their first official single.

Steven agreed, in a less enthusiastic manner because of his current life situation but got Joe and Brad to copy his right and left hand from the piano. Tom made a sleek bass line in a few hours, and Joey was too talented for his own good being the solid heartbeat behind all of their songs.

They would have rehearsed and been able to record in just a few days, the perfect way to start the new month of November, if Steven didn't keep messing up the vocals and insist on singing live with the band behind him.

Every time he'd apologise, head evidently elsewhere, and then they'd go from the top until hands physically couldn't play the song anymore.

Unfortunately, Columbia Records had loaned out a temporary manager to oversee the recording process in the studio, and it was a middle-aged guy with a pushy attitude Steven wasn't too keen on.

His dislike turned to hatred when he found out the rest of the band had recorded their own parts, and their 'manager' was threatening to get another singer if Steven didn't record his vocals.

Absolutely livid that something like this was possible and not what he needed during his recovery, Steven had a huge argument with Columbia Records' very own 'Mr Travis' and pointed out it was only early November and they had until the end of the year to release a single.

Of course, Steven was reminded that the contract could be torn up at any point if they were unhappy with the agreement, and there were plenty of other new bands who wanted the same opportunity to make it big.

After that slimy terms and conditions dig, Steven shut his big mouth, scheming all of the things he wanted to say to this prick when Aerosmith ruled the music headlines. And picturing that made the long days a lot more manageable.

<>

It was coming up to the tenth of November, another week passing, and the first of proper recording days in a professional environment.

Steven was fresh out of a counselling session, the place where he could discuss and share his troubles, and it was going great, until he recently encountered a new problem that made his life a lot more uncomfortable.

That problem, and he was a bit ashamed to admit it to himself, was that he was horny.

Having regular one hour meetings, in which he usually talked about his feelings, it was only natural for him to think about sex, because it was just how his brain worked.

Lack of said sex meant he had to resort to masturbating, but when he went from various meetings, to check-ups, or to the studio with a food shop on the way home where a troublesome two-year-old was waiting for his return, if Liv wasn't already with him, he didn't have much time to himself.

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat and always making sure he had something over his lap like lyrics sheets or a jacket were his go to's until his penis stopped thinking about sex at random points during the day.

He didn't, however, help himself by wearing tight jeans so his boners stuck out like a sore thumb.

That exact scenario happened today, a Wednesday, and Steven was bound to the live band set-up. He sat down after an hour claiming he had pain from his previous injuries, spread his knees defeatedly, and completely sprawled himself on a chair.

He couldn't give a shit how he looked. Leah was on his mind as usual, and the line between work and sex had become hazy. He just missed her so much, and had drafted too many messages to her only to delete them because it was too soon in his recovery to even think about getting into contact again.

"Uh, Steven?"

He made a vague noise of interest, but made no effort to remove the hand he had in his pocket, or open his eyes to disrupt his mini daydream.

"Do you, by any chance, have a boner?"

There it was. The rain on his parade. And with his lack of cares in the world, Tom continued exposing him, but with laughter taking over the curiosity.

"Oh my god, he does!"

Steven didn't bat an eye towards what he could only assume was the entire band's attention on him.

"I know you said you loved music, but I didn't think it would get you hard! You're thirty two, not sixteen!"

They didn't know the half of it. Having a wet dream twice in a week for the first time in years was not something Steven was most proud of.

"Do you want me to jerk you off?" Joe offered. "No homo or anything."

"Look, it's cool, we'll just wait here," Brad said, also encouraging the situation. "Go do your thing."

After a quiet but deep breath, Steven sat up straight in his chair. He was not impressed looking around at his friends trying to hold back their laughter.

"Hey, how about we do Big Ten Inch Record instead?" Tom suggested, with a grin. He was too proud of himself when he began to play the bass line to the song. "Although, I suppose Dream On fits just as well..."

Joe scoffed, fiddling with his amp.

"It's not ten inches."

"And how would you know?" Joey asked, from behind his drums. "Wait, are you two secretly dating?"

"Told you. Joven confirmed." Brad elbowed Tom's arm gently, as if they were both part of a bet.

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh all you fuckers want," Steven grumbled, deciding to ignore his gay relationship status. "Can't do shit without my voice."

He scrubbed his hands down his face, yawning because he was actually quite tired, and stood up to help his boner lose interest.

"-but the party!"

"Sweetheart," Tom replied to a shaken Joe. "We know he only gets hard for you."

Brad laughed.

Before Steven could tell the guys to lay off, Mr Travis burst into the studio and did it for him with his ugly presence.

"Stop talking about your dicks and record this single. I want it done by the end of the week." The finger was pointed, no guesses at who. "Steven, get your shit together. Lose the sulky attitude."

Because he was in such a confidently unaffected mood, Steven snorted.

"You're just jealous because my cock is bigger than yours and I'm not even close to being fully hard."

It was probably the most childish thing he had said for a long time, but the silence, the reddening ears and the wide eyes were priceless.

Steven was beginning to smirk in his arrogance, making sure he was zipped up just to draw the attention downwards.

Mr Travis cleared his throat.

"Last chance boys."

With clenched hands into fists by his sides, the idiotic manager swooped a glance across the entire band and left.

"Suck my balls, fuckwit," Steven muttered, jangling his nuts at the closed door.

There was definitely a comment about Joe sucking his balls that flew, most likely from Tom, and then something mumbled in response, and some more laughing.

Steven ignored it all and took his position in front of the band, no longer showing anything substantial in his pants.

He composed himself, shaking out his hands, breathing in deeply, and he had the confidence that this was going to be the take.

They were given the heads up from a technician with a few counts, and then Joe, back in his element, kicked them off.

Absorbed in the music, Steven reached out to hold the mic. This time, there were no nerves waiting for his cue after the final high C that slid perfectly up the fretboard, and he knew he wasn't going to mess it up.

The whole band was focused, and like always, he was going to lead the way.

"Every time that I look in the mirror..."

<>