Third of April: One Week Later

Steven felt odd.

It was coming up to three weeks without drugs in his system, but he did not believe it was the reason for his confused sobriety. It was more complicated, and something he didn't quite understand.

Steven was frustrated by pessimism, delighted by optimism, but even with his constant battle of polar opposites, he always found a middle ground, as unsteady and exhausting as it was.

It really was a strange feeling. One that kept him up at night, and wondering throughout the day, but when it was making the crave of drugs disappear and acting as a reminder of what he had to live for, he couldn't say he was entirely opposed.

Thinking about people he had known his whole life, people he trusted, his family, his close friends, Steven was subdued to a lot of personal reflections. But, when he wasn't stuck in his past, he thought about Leah, the person who had brought out a side of him that he was convinced had been forgotten.

"You need to stop punishing yourself for the things you can't change."

"You can start by taking me off your list of mistakes."

Steven wished he could have been awake before her. To see her in the glow of the morning, which was actually the afternoon as it turned out. He wished he could go back a week and sleep like that again, because it had been forever without a harrowing nightmare and an uninterrupted night.

But Leah returned that same day, adamant about taking the empty room before he had the chance to make up another lame excuse. It became a set in stone condition with no room for his petty arguing, and with absolutely no chance of a repeat, and the more it settled, the more Steven struggled with his feelings.

His days could be occupied by procrastination, but his nights were lonely and the warmth took its toll in feverish shivers. There was no assurance to guide him, and he was desperate to get it back before the unstable middle ground that had saved him so far, really did give out beneath him.

<>

The morning had been peacefully quiet, which was a stark contrast to the noise in Steven's head.

He hadn't really slept again, and was trying to figure out a combination of words without it sounding like babbling nonsense.

It didn't help that he hadn't spoken to Leah properly for a week because it had become too awkward to be alone together, and if it did happen, then the dumbest excuse was the only viable option.

They had avoided a real conversation at all costs, and it was building up on him far too much for his liking.

Wringing his hands by his sides and mumbling what he thought was a good start to his small confession, Steven stepped outside into the kind April air that had so far refrained from rain.

Spring had appeared so the evergreens were accompanied by bouts of colour in cool whites, pastel pinks, and a hint of baby blue, and when the sun was shining, it was like a wild paradise of flowers.

He was in his own little world as he followed the slate of the path, but the track of his nervous eyes lit up to the sound of laughter. He ventured towards the new bloom of the cherry blossom trees, vision encapsulated in an umbrella of soft pinks, and it really would have been the perfect setting to mask his stuttering, if he wasn't already beaten to it.

The very moment Steven caught sight of two people, he stopped, and was convinced that his heart had just broken for the umpteenth time.

It was Joey who was shaking the branches and making Leah laugh in a shower of nature, not him. It was Joey who brushed the petals from her hair despite her attempts to bat him away, not him. And when the laughter died down and the air resettled, it was Joey who rested his palm on her hip, not him.

When he couldn't bear the build-up to the kiss any longer, Steven looked away, burning with embarrassment. He stumbled back into a pacier walk without a second thought. He blinked, rubbing the betrayal and stupidity that glazed his eyes, and sniffed the jealousy away.

He had to accept that no matter how hard he tried, he would always find himself back in the vicious cycle that this world couldn't give an alternative for. He needed an addictive strength to stop the tragic fight of his body, and sobriety just wasn't going to cut it.

"Steven!" Brad greeted, as he drifted into the kitchen. "Is there anything you need before I go out?"

"I'll do it," Steven answered monotonously. "I'll do the shop."

Brad clicked the pen in his hand before placing it down carefully next to the list.

"It's alright, we've agreed-"

"I said I'll do it," Steven snapped, and took an impatient step forward with his palm held upwards.

When Brad flinched, he swallowed the thick tang of hurt down, and lowered his intimidating glare.

"The change in scenery would be nice," he explained, retracting his stiff hand. "That's all."

The moments that followed were the make or break for his ticking temper, because Steven was going out that door no matter what. He just didn't want to have to turn to violence to ensure it.

"Okay..." Brad agreed hesitantly, tough blue eyes reading between every line. He peeled the list between two fingers and held it out slowly, "Just make sure you get it all."

Steven folded the paper in half, slipping it into a pocket.

"Don't worry, I got it."

He left a sceptical Brad behind, retrieved and laced up his boots, slung his leather jacket over his shoulders, and snatched the keys from the side.

He was out of the house and rocking the engine to life not a minute later, and the resulting jitters of pleasure were welcomed because it had been so easy to get his way.

Speeding off, Steven burst with fresh arrogance that slapped a sly smile to the corner of his mouth. It would have stayed there too, teasing the devil, but he had to slam on the brakes because a black Range Rover completely blocked his perfect escape.

Shock easing, Steven relaxed his death grip on the wheel, wondering why the hell someone had haphazardly abandoned their vehicle in a private drive around a blind corner.

It was lucky he had good reflexes.

Unclipping his seatbelt in a huff, Steven tumbled out his door, raring to inspect the scene that had interrupted his getaway trip.

"HEY! What the fuck is this!?" he yelled, looking through the front windshield. "This is private fuckin' property!"

With the front seats empty and no response, he was surprised to be saved from squinting through more of the tinted glass.

"But it doesn't belong to you, does it mate?".

All too familiar, Matty's huge frame appeared from the other side of the Range Rover in three long, calculated strides.

Polished shoes. A crisp black suit. A black overcoat concealing one of his hands.

"So that makes both of us trespassing and if I were you-"

"What the fuck are you doing here, Matty?" Steven spat, unable to contain his anger. He boldly stepped towards the giant human, gesturing to the abandoned car beside him. "You think this is fuckin' funny!?"

Matty stood still, feet in line with his broad shoulders.

"-I'd shut ya mouth," he finished, like he had never been interrupted.

Steven's hands twitched with heavy regret, and eventually made it upwards to show his surrender to the nasty model of a Sig Sauer being revealed, and aimed in his direction.

"I-I'm sure this has just been some-" Steven's voice failed him, and he rushed to finish his sentence. "-so-ome misunderstanding."

Matty laughed, a mockingly deep sound, and adjusted the grip of the gun in his right hand.

"It's such a shame that we have to meet like this because I actually liked you, Steven." He shook his head to himself, pursing his lips with fake sympathy. "You were a bloody good laugh, and you sure knew your way around a good time. Your friends too, but 'specially... you."

Widened with fear, Steven kept flicking his eyes up and down, and left and right. His mouth went dry, and the friendly giant that he had trusted before, didn't look so cheerful anymore.

"Y'know I-I was just on my way back to get some stuff. Thought we could have a catch up."

"Oh really?"

Steven was about to nod and string together something else under the intense pressure, but he hit the solid grill of the van's bumper with the backs of his skinny legs.

He gulped knowing he could cower away no further, and that his life was in the hands of Matty who most likely had an aim that couldn't be outrun. He certainly wasn't going to put it to the test.

"Y-yeah I was." Steven lowered his palms closer to his chest, staring into the ominous barrel. "Like old times?"

Matty was smirking as he stopped in front of him, silver filling gleaming with the genius of knowing he had played Steven the whole time. The young, chiselled face of a party animal was finally living up to his height, with the smug features of a predator toying with his prey.

"It's amazing what this can do to people." Matty flicked the safety latch downwards with his thumb. "All I have to do is pull the trigger and bang! Steven Tyler is gone forever."

The barrel was pressed to his forehead, hard enough that Steven trembled.

His hands were numbed with fright and gripped tightly onto the grill behind him, and his knees threatened to buckle with the solid weight of the gun that Matty was forcing into him. He stared upwards, seeing the strong hand wrapped around the handgrip, and the finger closing in on the trigger, poised to end his life.

A sickly sweat was already sending chills to the back of his neck with his effort to keep still, but he couldn't help the track of his eyes to the sound of a loud slam in the background.

"Ah, you and Anton never did see eye to eye did ya?" Matty taunted, keeping his voice down on purpose.

There was activity behind him, but Steven had no hope of seeing it when he was pinned in place, forced to look up at the towering figure of a man, whilst feeling the daunting shape of a gun imprinting a circular ring into his forehead.

"You know if it was him holding this and not me, he would have killed you by now...But I think that's a bit too mean, dontcha think?"

Matty moved the gun away from his head, pressing hard into his right shoulder.

"I would prefer to see you suffer slowly..."

The weapon was forced into the gap between his collarbones, squashing the limited air in his throat, and made the next swallow awkwardly uncomfortable.

Matty just grinned maliciously and proceeded to guide the gun downwards, in an agonising line over the creases of his top between the unzipped sides of his jacket. It nudged over the buckle of his belt, and finally poked his groin so Steven had to work that little bit harder to breathe.

Matty inhaled sharply through his teeth, looking down at his hand.

"You'd struggle to 'ave kids if I shot you here."

Steven grabbed the offending wrist. He knew the action could have jolted a slip of the finger, but Matty had been expecting it. He barely flinched, and probably didn't even feel the squeeze.

"Ooh there he is!"

"Where is she?" Steven demanded fiercely, gritting his teeth.

The taller man frowned childishly, protruding his lower lip.

"Don't you want to know what happened to Ray first?"

When the words sunk in, it hit Steven hard. His hands went limp from their tight hold, and he practically gave up, then and there.

He heard the safety latch return, and the pressure from his groin lift, but it was nothing compared to the confirmation that Ray had been compromised, and after all this time, Steven hadn't been betrayed at all.

Ray had been sworn loyal, and had fought to keep him safe, just like a lifelong friend would.

"How else do you think we found ya?"

Steven vaguely acknowledged the Sig Sauer disappearing into the depths of an overcoat, but he was too lost imagining the worst to Ray to care about his own life.

"Okay okay, fine- you just want to know about your daughter. That's fair." Matty shrugged, oblivious to the heat that clenched in Steven's fists. "So, I'll offer you the easy way out of this. The one where we all win."

Steven glanced up to a face he was tired of meeting. The sideburns that grew neatly to his jaw. The hint of his silver filling always peeking from underneath his curled lip that had become accustomed to a vile smirk. The broken hook of his nose slightly offset between brown eyes, and the straight eyebrows that lifted as he spoke.

Matty leaned a huge hand forward onto the van's paintwork, effectively trapping him in.

"Give us the money now, and we'll leave you be. You can have your little Liv back, and it's all tickety-boo."

Standing up straighter for himself, Steven was fit to challenge.

"You'll never leave me alone," he responded bitterly. "Which is why I'll never stop chasing you fucking bastards until you're all dead."

Matty sighed, dropping his head in disappointment.

"Hard way it is."

The combination of blows was hard and direct to Steven's lower half, and had him toppling over on his knees and gagging on air before he could even blink.

The quick movement of Matty's knee to strike cleanly between his legs, and a simultaneous punch to knock the wind out of his stomach, felt like he'd been shot after all.

"You see this?" Matty sneered, yanking him by his hair. Steven coughed and sputtered as his neck snapped up. "This is your chance of a rescue about to go up in flames."

There was a red canister of fuel in Anton's hands, and he was pouring a line of gasoline around the van and over the paintwork. It gushed out the nozzle, and with a smoke between his teeth, Anton had a look of thorough enjoyment on his face every second the liquid splashed a surface.

"You're gonna feel exactly what your friend went through." Matty bunched up Steven's hair in his fist, angling him backwards on his knees. "All alone where no one knows where you are. Only difference is that your little girl will watch you suffer."

If he wasn't clutching his balls, Steven would have tried to wrangle the grip of his hair. But the effort to breathe past sickness, the sharp tang of gasoline, and the welling of tears in his eyes, was already using up his strength.

"I'll...kill...you."

Matty let go carelessly, and brushed his hands together.

"I don't think you will, mate."

Thrown to the ground with grit scratching his cheek, Steven's hands clutched between his legs that he brought together to relieve the seething pain.

The fuel stopped trickling from a can's nozzle, and two sets of legs blurred in his sideways vision.

"Get up you piece of shit," Anton snarled, kicking him with his boot.

Steven rolled with the motion and closed his painfully glazed eyes. He just wanted it to end.

"C'mon buddy. There's time for that later."

With Anton dismissed, burly hands grabbed Steven's jacket and forced him to a stand. He made a whiny noise in his throat with the rough action, dragging his feet straight, and the squint of his eyes landed on a face he officially hated.

"It will all be alright soon," Matty assured with a smile so fake, it made the nasty glint of his filling shine even more.

Helpless and drained from energy, Steven could do nothing about the sharp needle that entered his neck and the woozy feeling that followed.

He registered a flick of a lighter and a frayed fabric bag pulled over his head, but he couldn't stay awake long enough to wriggle out of Matty's ominous hold.

<>

A/N
Hehehe I feel so powerful with the plot twist. Yes, I guess it was a bit obvious, but I have to make a full circle with my loose ends somehow...

Anywayyy, next chapter will be soon...I promise 🙃❤️