***Tw: Gaslighting, domestic abuse, drug use mentions, and use of the f slur. And some more masturbating***

A couple of hours later, Joe's eyes slowly fluttered open. He groaned and blinked a couple of times as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Waking up with no reason was one of the most annoying things ever.

"It was just a dream," he muttered, pulling the blanket up to his chin. "Just a stupid dream."

~

At a quarter to six, the delicious smell of fried food wafted through the tiny apartment as Joe tended to a sizzling frying pan of bacon in the miniature kitchen. His arm ached as he continued to turn the same piece of bacon over and over with the tongs he clutched, completely distracted by all his thoughts surrounding his dream.

Why did he have to dream about dominating Steven during sex? Of all the things he could dream about... I mean, it kind of made sense since he hadn't made love to any woman (not even Elyssa) for several months. It wasn't that he couldn't, he just didn't have the drive nor did he really feel attracted to women, and he hated it. Masturbation was fun, but it only did so much. It barely satisfied his sex deprived body.

"Fucking glasses," he muttered when they started steaming up from all the heat. He took them off and frustratingly wiped down the foggy lenses on his sweatpants.

"Good morning, sweetie pie," a sweet voice spoke from his left, lips pressing a loving kiss to his cheek.

Joe beamed as arms wrapped around his waist and hugged him. His heart grew wings every time he was shown affection, it made him insanely happy. "Good morning, Sorrel," he greeted in a slightly raspy voice, sharing a soft kiss with Elyssa. "Sorry if breakfast is really early, I just have places to be today."

"It's fine, baby. What are you thinking about?" Elyssa hummed, noticing the far away look in Joe's twinkling brown eyes. She reached into the cookie jar and began nibbling on a chocolate chip cookie as she waited for an answer.

"A dream I had last night," he answered, quickly rescuing the burning meat that wildly spat fat.

"What happened in your dream?"

"I was a little boy again- ten years old - and was lost in the woods," Joe lied, accidentally burning himself. If Elyssa ever found out there would be hell to pay. "My glasses weren't in my pocket so I kept blindly walking and walking until I eventually found a lake. I wasn't sure whether to jump in and swim across or turn back and continue walking through the dense growth, but I had no choice because pale, scaly hands reached up and grabbed me and pulled me under. And then darkness; I drowned." He paused to take a breath. "But moving on, how did you sleep?" Joe was eager to stop talking about this. It was starting to make him feel weird.

"Better if you had been next to me," Elyssa admitted, wrapping Joe's unoccupied arm around her. "I really missed you."

"But baby, you didn't want me sleeping next to you. You told me to sleep on the sofa."

"I'm sorry," she apologised, nuzzling Joe's side. "I was just tired and upset."

"Why?" Joe questioned in confusion, now focused on cracking eggs to make pancake batter.

"Because you kissed Steven, that's why."

His eyes widened a little in shock and he dropped an egg onto the floor. What?!

"What?!" Joe quickly turned around to face Elyssa, unable to believe what he was hearing. He was so taken aback that he almost knocked over the mixing bowl. "Baby, I never kissed Steven. You saw. He was just being a massive idiot, like always."

"Hmm...And what's that bruise on your face?"

"Well..." Joe laughed awkwardly and scratched his neck. "you slapped me last night, remember? Called me a fag and screamed at me to go to hell."

"What?" Elyssa let go of him as she frowned in confusion. "Hun, I never said or did those things. You bumped yourself."

"No, baby. You slapped me," Joe corrected, hoping that they could just stop talking about this whole thing. He couldn't handle it.

"God, you must've bumped yourself harder than you thought. A concussion, perhaps? Maybe we should go to the doctor. Or just lie down and take a rest," Elyssa suggested, attempting to gain some kind of control over Joe.

"I don't need a fucking rest!" he exclaimed angrily, barely reacting when he trod on eggshell as he walked away, abandoning the breakfast. He didn't even care. Fuck the breakfast. He wasn't hungry anymore. "I know what happened, Elyssa!"

"Baby, please. I'm just tryna help you," Elyssa murmured from behind him, kissing one of his shoulder blades and down his back.

Joe sighed and collapsed into the sofa, shielding his eyes in frustration.

"Look, just relax, love. I'll take care of everything."

He tensed as slim hands came behind him and began massaging his shoulders, kisses planted between massages.

"You know, I don't think it's a good idea for you to go record the album and be around the boys, you've been really stressed lately."

"Stressed? At what point was I stressed? I'm just pissed off with Steven, that's all," Joe muttered into his palm.

"Right now you're stressed."

Joe groaned and fell back into the pillows, covering his face with his hands. The frustration from having his head screwed with was building up like crazy. "Because you're fuckin' stressing me out!" he shouted. "I just need to be alone."

Joe angrily slapped the cushions and pushed himself off the sofa, hurling a book down the hallway before stalking into the bedroom and locking the door behind him. Hauling a suitcase from under the bed, he popped it open and began throwing all his clothes and toiletries he had left behind months ago inside.

"I flew all the way home across the Atlantic for you when Aerosmith took off and got a record deal and now you're leaving me and asking to be alone??" Elyssa cried, following him, pausing to try and open the door. "You locked the door?! Joe, let me in! We need to talk!"

Joe just ignored her and continued to pack, plugging his ears with cotton wool to quiet the screams. He couldn't cope much longer.

"JOE, OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!" Elyssa screamed, banging her fists against the door and desperately trying the doorknob until it almost came off in her hand. "OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!!! WE NEED TO TALK!!"

"SO YOU CAN MANIPULATE AND ISOLATE ME FROM ALL THE PEOPLE I LOVE AND CARE ABOUT?!" Joe screamed back, slamming his suitcase shut. "THERE'S NOTHING TO TALK ABOUT!!"

"BABY, I'M DOING THIS FOR YOU!! I LOVE YOU! I'M TRYING TO HELP!!"

Joe went silent for a moment, thinking. Maybe she was just trying to help and he was the one being the asshole. It was his fault for bringing up the whole dream thing anyway. He was the one who started it all. Oh fuck, he didn't know. He didn't know what to think anymore.

"I'm only leaving for a bit, babe," he finally responded, clearing his throat. "I promise I'll come back to you."

"Promise?" Elyssa asked softly, giving up on hitting the door.

"Promise."

"Okay, but what about the boys? They're kinda weird- especially Steven. Isn't he a fag and a druggie?"

Joe gritted his teeth and squeezed his hands into fists, getting angry again. Steven a fag? No! He had straight porn magazines in his room for goodness sake. And she was kind of half-right about the druggie bit, but she knew Steven was working on getting sober, as was he.

"That's unfair. He's trying to get clean, you know that. Just have some patience. He is trying. And please don't use that word. It's vile."

"Well, I saw him doing drugs and taking shots with Brad just last week, that doesn't sound very trying," she stated in a serious tone. "Stop making excuses for him, Joe. One day he'll get you in a lot of trouble and then you'll be wishing you had listened to me."

Joe was wishing Elyssa would stop slagging off the band and attacking his job. She had no right since she was barely involved in his career, apart from being known to be a rockstar's girlfriend. "I'm not gonna get in trouble, love. I've been sober for several months."

"But you might get back on cocaine, shooting heroin and all the hard stuff again, and who knows what will happen. What would your parents think?"

'What would your parents think?' What would his parents think? Joe's heart hammered as he remembered the first time he'd been introduced to marijuana after a gig. This was when Aerosmith was the Jam Band. Both Steven and Elyssa had happily attended, during which Joe had witnessed Steven get hard and shamelessly pick his nose the whole show. He, Joe, got even more pissed off when Steven snuck backstage and called him 'babe' before giving him so called 'pointers' and offering him drugs. Still being a kid, he had stupidly accepted and quickly got high.

Joe sniffled a little and looked away when he slowly unlocked the door, only for Elyssa to embrace him in a loving hug. Why did she have to remind him of all the bad stuff? All the bad stuff he was trying so hard to desperately forget.

"I'll still love you though," Elyssa murmured, her knuckles and palms red and sore from trying to force her way into the room.

"I love you too."

"Just, I think Steven is a bad influence on you, getting you involved in all those drugs and wearing pink-"

"I'm not involved in anything!" Joe almost shouted, resisting the urge to stomp his foot like a child as he broke away from the hug. "I just - " he could feel his voice breaking. "said that I've been sober for several months now. And I shot heroin once. Just once. Haven't since."

"How long will you be sober for? He's glued to you, baby, it's not healthy. Steven wants to isolate you and keep you to himself so he can control you. But just know I'll always be here for you when no one else is." Elyssa pulled him close again and stroked his hair comfortingly.

Joe tensely hugged her, his nose itching as the smell of her strong perfume penetrated his nostrils.

"Love, can you do something for me?"

"Like what?" he hummed, playing with Elyssa's blonde hair.

"Stay away from Steven."

"Why?" Joe looked down, confused.

"He wants to hook up with you. He told me. All he wants from you is sex. Not friendship, sex. Joe, he's infatuated- obsessed with you."

If it wasn't for Elyssa's calm tone and straight face, he would've instantly called bull. But then again, this was his girlfriend. He didn't have any reason not to believe her. Joe laughed awkwardly.

"I don't think so. If he had wanted sex from me, he would've gotten it a long time ago."

Elyssa frowned and studied Joe's dark eyes for a moment, trying to process what she had just heard. "What do you mean 'he would've gotten it a long time ago'? Are you saying you want to fuck him?!" She shouted, unable to believe her ears. "That fucking- fucking big-lipped, talentless, druggie homosexual?!?! ARE YOU FUCKING GAY?!?!"

Joe's heart almost stopped, taken aback by these words. Talentless? Druggie? Homosexual? The rubbish that was spewing from her lips was outrageous.

"Don't talk about Steven like that!" Joe snapped, scooping up his belongings. "I know he's a fuckhead but it doesn't give you the right to talk shit about him. And, NO! He's a dude and I'm a dude and- he's not gay! And I'm not gay! Okay?! We've never fucked or done that stuff... I'm not attracted to him and he's not attracted to me." If only all of this was the whole truth.

"Look, just get the fuck out! I don't want to see you again!!" Elyssa screamed, grabbing Joe by his sweater and pushing him towards the front door. "OUT!"

Joe wasn't sure when but he suddenly found himself on the brink of tears. He sniffed as he felt a single tear trickle down his cheek and fell onto his hand.

"Oh, you're gonna start crying? You're such a baby, Joe. Be a man. And don't call me until you finally decide to wake up and realise what an amazing woman you've lost."

"Sweetheart, please don't do this," Joe begged, his eyes watering. "I need you. I love you so much."

"If you really loved me you wouldn't do this to me."

Joe stood there speechless as Elyssa slammed the door in his face, the force making him jump back a little. This was the first time that they'd had such a bad argument that he was kicked out. His nose scrunched up as he did his best not to cry. What's wrong with me? he thought.

"And if you really loved me you wouldn't be refusing my medication and trying to make me sick," Joe whispered, his heart aching as he reluctantly trudged away from the person he once thought had loved him.

~

By the time Joe reached the familiar settlement dawn had already broken through, colourising the previously pitch-black streets. He shielded his eyes from the blinding sunlight that beat down on his face as he knelt down on the porch to rescue the spare key from under the joke mat Brad had spontaneously bought when they'd first moved in.

"Hope you brought weed," Joe read from the mat. He snickered and stepped over it to let himself in, unbothered about wiping his shoes. "Well, we got plenty of it."

Closing the door, he slipped his trainers off and started upstairs, holding his breath as he stopped to listen for any noise. Silence. Shut up, Joe. You're being paranoid. There's no one here, he silently reassured himself whilst still continuing to be as quiet as possible as he retreated to his room.

Joe sighed and smiled as he found his bedroom the exact way he had left it, not that he expected to find it looking like a shithole. It just gave him some comfort to know that it was still tidy and not a disaster like Steven's room. So, neat bed? Check. Massive Jimi Hendrix poster overshadowing his desk? Check. Books in order? Check. A Fleetwood Mac record laying on his bed? Chec- what? That wasn't there before.

"Where did you come from?" Joe murmured, dropping his suitcase and picking up the record, examining it. "Hmm?" He tilted his head as he found a label attached to the back. "I heard you like Fleetwood Mac so I hope you enjoy their latest album. Love Steven x"

Joe rolled his eyes at the kiss and tossed the record back on the bed. "Nice try, Tyler. You're still not forgiven." But he did his best not to crack a smile as he remembered watching Fleetwood Mac play whilst he was out by the ticket window at the Boston Tea Party in '68 or '69.

Shaking his head free of the memory, he pulled his sweater and shirt over his head and tossed them into the laundry basket, along with the rest of his clothes.
Naked, he grabbed a towel from the airing cupboard and wrapped it around his waist. He hummed a merry theme tune as he turned the shower on, all his hopes pinned on having a relaxing time without any disturbance. As he let the water get hot, he unpacked and went downstairs to throw his dirty garments into the washing machine.

"Oh shit!" he exclaimed as his towel unravelled and fell down to his ankles when he bent over and threw his clothes in the washing machine. No one was around, but he still blushed as he stood clothless in the laundry room. Hoisting his towel up to his hips, he ran upstairs and into the bathroom.

"Ow, fuck!" he shouted as he stuck his arm in the shower to test the water. Throwing all logic out the window, he hadn't expected the water to be that hot.

Hanging his towel up, he slowly got under the scalding hot water, wincing a little from the temperature. Grabbing the soap, he began scrubbing his skin clean, cursing as he kept dropping it on the floor.

Once he'd finished washing his body and hair, Joe leaned back against the shower fall and looked up at the ceiling, thinking about everything that had happened. Elyssa screaming at him and gaslighting him. Constantly being refused his medication and being brought to tears every day for several days. How hungry he was. Getting kicked out. Losing the person he loved and thought had loved him... It was strange because even though he was now very aware of the one-sided love, he didn't want to let Elyssa go. He'd loved this woman for so long that it just didn't feel right to break up with her. He gave her everything. All his love, attention and anything she wanted, doing anything he possibly could to make her happy, but it was just one big con.

Overwhelmed with all this negativity, Joe slowly sank to the shower floor and hugged his knees to his chest, beginning to sob. He couldn't help it. If he couldn't cry in front of anyone then he'd cry alone.

Joe didn't know how long he'd been curled up for, but by the time he'd finished crying every tear in his body, his hair was stuck flat to his face and his skin had turned tomato red. He sniffed loudly and stood up, turning the shower off before finally getting out and drying himself off.

Padding into his room, he threw on a pair of tight beige leather pants, a snakeskin belt and a long-sleeved back shirt leaving it open. Joe didn't know what it was about unbuttoned shirts, but it made him a little more confident. He smiled sadly into the mirror and ruffled his towel-dried hair. He looked a complete mess. His eyes were bloodshot and his nose was red from crying for so long. Extracting a book from his book shelf, Joe flopped down onto his bed and began reading, swinging his feet as he flipped through endless pages.

As time passed, he found his eyes were beginning to glaze over from reading for so long. He looked down at his watch. He'd been reading for almost a full hour. Joe was shocked but not surprised. He'd loved to read ever since he was a kid. It was so calming and allowed him to escape to another world.

Putting down the book, he rolled onto his side and propped himself up on an elbow studying the temporarily forgotten album again.

"Heroes Are Hard To Find." Joe traced a finger around the edges of the cover. He'd heard a couple of the songs from the album on the radio but he had never gotten around to buying it. Well, he might as well play the darn thing before be left.

"Here goes nothing," he muttered, standing up and carefully fitting the record onto his record player. Joe couldn't help but smile as the bluesy rock filled his room, even breaking out into a little dance and bobbing his head to the beat. God, what an album this was.

"Well I'm a born enchanter, that's what the ladies see. Yes I'm a born enchanter, down in the city of dreams," he quietly sang, doing a little twirl and glide across his room as the piano did a few seconds of solo. "Lord do right by me and let me go. Down in my city of dreams where I need to go." Joe hummed the rest of the song as he kept dancing, feeling like a giddy teenager all over again.

"Fuck!" he cursed when he bumped into his desk and fell over, though he couldn't help but stay on the floor and giggle. Thank god no one was around to witness his clumsiness.

After picking himself up, Joe took the liberty to tidy up Steven's room, washing all his dirty clothes, making his messy bed, and grimacing when he picked up a pair of Steven's week-old dirty boxers from the floor.

"Oh, ew," Joe whispered, scrunching his nose from the awful smell. The things he did to be nice. "Steven, you're so disgusting." He gagged a little when he caught sight of a skidmark. "Fucking hell," he mumbled, throwing them into the overflowing laundry basket.

How could someone live like this? Well, how could someone other than Steven live like this? As he went to leave, a bottle under the crowded vanity table caught his interest. Assuming it was empty, he reached under and picked it up to toss in the bin.

"What the fuck-" he began when he saw the label. "Lickable lube: Cherry flavour. God, Steven, you're such a weirdo. Why'd you have such ridiculous items?" Joe mused looking from the unopened bottle in his hand to a crystal ball that sat on top of a stack of dictionaries under the windowsill. "Even Brad doesn't hoard such weird shit."

He threw the bottle into a corner of the room and laid down on the bed, burying his head into Steven's favourite pillow. Despite how mad he still was, a part of him was missing the familiar smell of his best friend. "I miss you so much," Joe whimpered. "And I'm sorry."