***TW: Continued self-harm, mention of suicide and some angst. Also, we constantly switch POVs, feelings and thoughts are quite conflicted, and Steven and Joe both swear a lot here (including a c-bomb)***

"This is bullshit."

"What's bullshit?"

"This whole getting patched up and shit. I'm fine," Joe scowled, leaning back in the uncomfortable bed, an exasperated expression settling on his face.

His dark eyes were piercing and full of frustration as he stared up at the ceiling, the rooms blinding white light burning his eyes. Black lashes fluttered to filter most of the light from his vision. Joe turned his head away and folded his bandaged arms across his chest, jolting when pain flashed through his veins.

When he'd arrived at the hospital, he'd excused himself to the bathroom, immediately starting to cut at his wrists and arms with any sharp object he could find, old cuts that had been reduced to scars, slashed open. He couldn't help himself. He was in so much pain from all the suffering and abuse he'd gone through over the last few years, including self-harm. Not that you could tell. He'd always covered the cuts up by wearing jackets and blazers- anything that could hide them. Even when he joined Aerosmith, he made sure to wear long-sleeves to hide all his self-inflicted injuries. He didn't want anyone to worry or make a fuss.

"Yeah, the hospital band on your wrist agrees with you," Steven jokingly commented with a toothy grin.

Joe looked up and gave him an icy look, finding this critique less than funny. He didn't exactly appreciate that the singer chose this moment to make jokes. "Steven, shut the fuck up."

Steven groaned playfully in fake annoyance, slumping down in his seat and wiggling his feet like a toddler. "Come on, I'm just tryna lighten the mood." He scooted forward and held Joe's wrists, gently swinging their arms as he circled the pads of his thumbs on the back of Joe's hands. "You know I love you really."

Apart from blushing and giving an embarrassed smile, Joe barely reacted, only wincing from the stinging pain that flashed through his arms again. Steven pressed his lips together in disappointment when the guitarist tugged his hands away from his own. He was only trying to cheer Joe up. Despite the inappropriate jokes he had made, he truly hated to see Joe like this. He'd move heaven and earth to make him happy.

A sigh fell from the older man's lips as Joe turned his head away from him again, his hair flopping in front of his face. Steven sighed, playing with his hands as he felt himself fall into a pit of despair. This was pure torture. The chair he was sitting in screeched along the shiny floor as he moved even closer to the bed, slowly combing Joe's hair away to catch a solitude tear sliding down subtly tanned skin.

"JoJo kitten? Why are you crying?" Steven whispered, his long fingers caressing Joe's cheek and jawline.

JoJo kitten. For some reason he'd spontaneously taken a liking to the nickname.

Joe sniffed loudly, his nose stuffy and red from crying. "I'm not fuckin' crying, that's ridiculous. You're so stupid," he muttered, wiping his eyes. "And don't call me JoJo Kitten, it's pathetic."

Steven giggled, finding Joe's annoyance cute. "Well, I like it. It's sweet."

Joe grunted, not warming up to the new nickname he'd been given. He didn't hate it, but he also didn't love it. The short silence was broken as a sudden loud gurgle filled the room, making both men crack up. Looking over, Steven saw that Joe seemed to be crying more in pain than of laughter, but he didn't want to say anything and upset him, he just let the waterworks fall.

"You hungry, Joey? When did you last eat?"

The man next to him simply shrugged, the bed sheet underneath him rustling faintly as he shuffled around, trying to find a more comfortable sitting position.

"Earlier. About eleven," Joe muffled, his eyes shifting around, not digesting what was being said.

"Well, I'm going to get something from the vending machine, want anything in particular? Joe?" Steven asked again, noticing Joe had become distracted again, fidgeting and playing with his clothes.

He heaved a sigh. Over the last couple of months when they'd been together, he'd often caught Joe spacing out more during their conversations or during activities. He assumed it was Joe's adhd, but it didn't bother him, he just waited till Joe zoned back in.

"JoJo Kitten?" Steven repeated, softly shaking Joe's bony shoulder.

"Huh? What, Steven?" Wide, confused brown eyes gazed at him, barely acknowledging that he'd been addressed by the unfavourable nickname he'd been given.

"I said, I'm going to get something from the vending machine, want anything?"

"No, I'll eat later. I'm not hungry right now." Joe's tummy growled in protest at those words. He was in fact very hungry, but he just didn't emotionally feel like he could eat. He was too drained from earlier.

Steven shook his head knowing full well that that was an absolute lie. They'd known each other long enough now to know when the other was lying. "Joe, I know you. If I leave you now before you eat, you won't eat, even if the staff bring you meals. At least have a sandwich, the bread will make you want to eat more." His voice wavered as he cupped Joe's hands in his own and comfortingly massaged them with his thumbs.

Steven was trying hard not to scream in Joe's face and let out all his emotions. It was so frustrating that he couldn't have complete control of the situation and kiss Joe till this all went away.

"Jesus Christ, Steven...Fine!!" Joe shouted, jerking his hands away, causing Steven to almost fall backwards off his chair when he recoiled in fright. God, he wished he could be left alone.

All Joe wanted was to be left alone and wallow in his own misery. He didn't need stupid Steven. The man was always following him around like a lost puppy, and trying to be his hero. Guess what, he didn't need saving. He could do this by himself. He didn't need Steven's kisses or Steven's petite body to press up against him and wrap him in cuddles to calm him down. Joe didn't need him at all.

"Okay! Don't fucking shout at me! I got the fucking message. You don't need to be a prick." Steven pushed himself up from his chair and made a beeline for the vending machine, occasionally squeezing himself past bustling staff and patients.

Facing the machine, he fished in his jeans pockets for loose change finding that he didn't have his wallet on him. Fuck. Well, nevermind, it was probably in his coat pocket, he'd get it later. Steven's doe eyes scanned the metal racks that were full of delicious snacks, feeling indecisive about what he should pick.

Shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders, he pressed the buttons to dispense the chosen snacks he wanted and inserted the few coins he had into the slot. Nothing. His glasses made a harsh cracking sound as he pressed his face against the glass as he waited for something to happen. Still the snacks failed to move. Growing impatient, he angrily jabbed the buttons.

"What a scam!" Steven slammed his red palms against the glass and kicked the machine as hard as he could. "Stupid fucking vending machine!!"

He had a good mind to make a scene and throw hissy fit right then and there, but it wasn't worth his time or the stares he was receiving, cause at least the thing was faulty enough to spit his money back out. The only thing he could think to do was just go to the coffee shop across the road and purchase something there- he didn't trust hospital cafés.

~

Long and boring, two words that didn't even begin to describe the horrendous queue Steven was standing in. The line was almost right out the door and the orders were taking forever. He'd only taken a couple of steps in the last few minutes, making his patience capacity quite limited. How long did it take to order a fucking drink?!

Steven drummed his fingers against his sides, his rings making a soft jangling sound, he was still thinking about how Joe had shouted at him back in the ward. It wasn't like how Joe shouted at him when they were fighting, it wasn't full of passion, it was full of bitterness and anhedonia from a broken man. And, though he constantly thought it, he wished he could fix this broken man all by himself and build him back up to the amazing man he was inside.

He played with the cash that he'd stuffed back into his pocket, trying to pass the time. Steven glanced around, admiring his surroundings; people jostling each other as they moved swiftly through the crowds; the live music from buskers; the mouth-watering smell of food; and the cloudy sky that was slowly fading from soft blue to marigold orange.

He clicked his tongue and pulled a face. This was boring. This was so- Steven's cerebrations were interrupted. His eyes fell on a striking woman who he could see through the glass sitting at a small table at the back in a corner. She had curly, sandy blonde hair, plump lips much like his own and big brown eyes. She was beautiful! Model beautiful, in fact, which meant she most likely was. A stupid, dreamy smile sat on his face and his knees grew weak as he became besotted by the mystery blonde. Who was she? He needed to know!

Steven happily moved forward in the line, his stomach flipping with excitement when the woman made eye contact with him and smiled, seeming to recognise him. Oh fuck, she smiled at him. Did he look okay? Was his hair a mess? Were there stains on his clothes? He awkwardly smiled back, offering a quick wave that wasn't returned. By now, Steven had almost completely forgotten about Joe who lay in his bed, defeated, hungry and thirsty. He wished he could kiss a smile onto those plush, pink lips. And more if she would let him.

He was on auto-pilot at this point, obsessed with the supposed model. Fuck, he had to get her number. What if he never saw her again? What if she didn't even like him? That'd be terrible- and unlikely. Everyone liked him.

When he'd finished paying for food and coffees he'd bought (one for him and one for Joe), he reluctantly left the shop, a sinking feeling forming in his gut when he realised that the woman who had made his brain turn to mush had disappeared. He let out a small whine. There went the woman of his dreams.

A familiar Chuck Berry song that was playing pounded in Steven's ears as he stared up at the once blue-orange sky that had now transformed into sunset. How time flew. Stray locks of hair that he'd tucked behind his ears became loose and tickled the sides of his face as a cold January breeze swept through the city, making him shiver.

Approaching the zebra crossing, Steven turned his thoughts back to Joe, thinking about how lonely he'd now be without his best friend who was practically his brother. Who would he have to embarrass or tease? Who would he have to joke around with or go shopping with? It was going to suck without him.

~

"Well, you took your time."

"I did," Steven sassed, placing the drinks down.

"Did you get me anything to eat?" Joe asked rather hopefully, his eyes lighting up.

Steven rubbed the back of his neck and gave an awkward laugh, rather hesitant to answer. "Well, I got a few doughnuts and a sandwich, but I got hungry on the way back, so I ate them," he admitted, smiling sheepishly.

Joe's jaw dropped in shock, before his mouth closed and his face twisted into one of anger, his dark, bushy eyebrows coming down over his eyes. "Really?! Steven, you're such a fuckin' pig." He was so hungry, but now his appetite was completely ruined. Fuck.

Steven snickered. "Oink oink. I did you a favour, didn't I? You don't need to be an asshole" He sat back down in his designated seat and clutched his steaming cup of coffee, trying to warm his bitterly cold hands.

"Fuck you. And why are you back so late anyway?" Joe questioned, flinching when the scorching beverage trickled down his throat. His eyes watered as he quickly swallowed it down, his throat was on fire. He didn't expect the coffee to be as hot as it was. "Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting?!" Joe's shout came out as more of wheeze.

Steven smiled and shook his head. "No, cause Joe, I saw the most beautiful woman. She was blond with lips like mine and big doe eyes. I bet she's a model," he babbled, getting excited. His face glowed as he felt the same rush of adrenaline he had when he'd first seen the blonde. He was crushing hard.

Joe slowly nodded. "Nice, man..." His eyes darted down to the duvet that he'd wrapped himself in. He put his cup down and held himself, his arms a little less painful.

Steven tilted his head, confused why Joe had become so melancholy. "You good, Joe?" he swore he'd seen Joe's glitter with anguish, as though he dreaded hearing those words again. The same words Steven had said a million times before.

He was a hopeless romantic and easily fell head over heels for anyone who caught his eye, but this time it was for real. He was sure... Joe would always have his heart, whether he knew it or not, but it was always possible that he wasn't the one. Steven hummed, feeling rather conflicted in his feelings. On one hand, he was absolutely besotted with the beautiful, blonde woman, but on the other, he was so in love with Joe. What to do, what to do.

Joe nodded again. "Fine," he managed to squeak out, his voice breaking as he tried not to break down in tears.

He loved Steven, yeah, he loved the crazy lead singer, and it hurt hearing how much Steven adored someone he'd barely met. Joe had known him much longer (almost five years) than whoever was Steven's spontaneous love interest. It just wasn't fair. They had their own inside jokes, often went out together to the cinema and did shopping. They took care of each other, were together every day, and were each other's shoulders to cry on, but no, Steven had to fucking fall in love with some blonde bimbo he hadn't even talked to.

"Sure? You can tell me, JoJo Kitten. I'm basically your brother at this point."

"Open your fuckin' ears and stop fuckin' calling me that," Joe mumbled, having lost the energy to shout. "And I'm-" he paused as his words caught in his throat. "fine," he finished after having a deep sip of coffee.

"Come on, tell me," the doe-eyed man pestered, harshly poking Joe's shoulder. "Tell meeee."

"There's nothing to tell, except that I'm going to get up and strangle you with my bare hands if you don't quit poking me."

Steven smirked, wiping the coffee stains from around his mouth. "Ooooo yeah, I've always wanted to be choked by Joe Fuckin' Perry." He laughed loudly as the latter turned bright red, embarrassed that the tables had been turned.

"I'm still not telling you anything," Joe insisted, preferring to keep his true thoughts and feelings to himself. He didn't want to be needy or seem weird if he told Steven that he loved him. What if Steven laughed at him and rejected him? Worse, what if Steven decided he didn't want to be friends anymore and kicked him out of the band?

He anxiously played with his hands as awful scenarios plagued him. A tiny gasp left him when soft, plump lips pressed a loving kiss on his forehead, but he soon found himself leaning into it. Blushing wildly, Joe looked up at Steven whose hands had found themselves on his shoulders.

Steven smiled and took his hands away. "I'll go now and give you some peace and quiet. You need to rest."

"Okay..." To say he was disappointed that his crush was leaving was an understatement. He didn't want to be by himself in a big, unfamiliar facility, surrounded by people he didn't know. He wanted Steven to stay with him and love him.

Steven awkwardly kissed his cheek and opened his arms to embrace him in a hug, but he fended it off. Don't get him wrong, he desperately wanted to be loved, but at the same time he didn't feel worthy of love at all. Joe could see that Steven was holding his tongue, possibly to yell at him, but all he received was a soft, "later, Joe."

"H- hey, Steven?" he called as Steven slipped on his coat and began his exit.

"Yes?"

"Later. I l- love you," he stuttered, blushing again. He hoped Steven would be too blind to notice his blush even with his glasses on.

"Love you too, JoJo Kitten. And sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite," Steven joked, blowing him a kiss before completely walking away.

As the vocalist left the ward, he felt yet another pang of guilt pulse through his veins. He felt like such a selfish prick for eating those doughnuts and that sandwich, knowing full well Joe was hungry no matter how much he denied it. If he had a time machine, he would go back one hour and make sure that he wasn't so apathetic and greedy. Fuck, sometimes he could be so self-centered, but he couldn't help it, he guessed that that was just who Steven Tyler was. A self-centered idiot who didn't care about his friends.

Steven sniffed and stuffed his clenched hands deeper into his coat pockets as he descended the stairs. He was such a terrible person. And on top of all that, he didn't even try to get Joe some help when he first attempted suicide. Fuck.

His eyes welled up. He could've stopped all this from happening if he'd had some common sense and gotten Joe help the first time. He loved the shy guitarist with his stupid duck-like face, but yet he constantly screwed-up, and now here they were, in a hospital. It was the last place Steven meant to end up in. One day, he wanted to walk down a church aisle and marry Joe in the middle of a scorching summer, and maybe even mother his children, but even that now seemed worlds away.

Wiping his eyes, Steven plucked up the unengaged free phone that the hospital provided and called for a taxi, trying to put on a perky voice to mask his true emotions to the operator. He crossed his legs and played with his jewellery, trying to give his racing mind something to concentrate on.

"Mhm, thanks." He hung up and pushed his way through the double doors, a little self-conscious that people were staring at him. People just couldn't mind their fucking business, could they?

When Steven got out into the deserted parking lot, he nestled himself in a shady spot where people wouldn't see him. He was always happy to sign autographs and chat with fans, but right now he just wanted to be alone. All he cared about at the moment was Joe and getting back to his cosy hotel room.

Digging in his back pocket, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it, calmly smoking as he patiently waited for his taxi. When he, Tom, Joey and Brad had landed in NYC earlier, he had immediately brought cigarettes after (barely) making it through security. Steven wiggled his extremities uncomfortably in his tight shoes. They squished his toes and gave him awful blisters that he often had to attend to, but he was still going to wear the ill-fitting shoes, they made his legs look good.

"Where the fuck is the taxi?!" he wondered aloud, taking a puff as he stood up to ease his aching joints. "That motherfucker is ten minutes late!"

As he got ready to shout a long list of swear words into the night, lights flooded the road, scaring a stray animal back into the shadows. Finally Steven thought when the taxi pulled up.

Throwing his burning cigarette on the floor and stubbing it out with his heel, he hopped over to the car, careful not to fall when his steps became a little uncoordinated. He grasped the car door handle with a cold hand and uneasily glanced through the windows, suddenly rather hesitant about getting in. What if he got kidnapped? No, that was child talk. He'd just seen too many movies.

"Hey, man," Steven greeted as he got in and put his seatbelt on, relaying his destination to the driver. "So...busy evening?" he asked as the tiny, yellow car drove through the city.

The man nodded. "Uh-huh, very busy. Been on shift for several hours already, so I get off at two o'clock this morning."

Steven hummed in response, finding nothing interesting to say, meaning the rest of the taxi journey was silent. He rested his head on the window and watched the scenery as they drove through the city. There was always something new and interesting to see, so he was rather enjoying the peace and quiet. It allowed him to absorb it all. He held his coat closer to his body as they came to an abrupt stop at a set of traffic lights that had turned red. Steven wiggled his toes again, the pressure on his feet becoming unbearable.

"You don't mind if I take my shoes off, do you?" he asked rather desperately. "My shoes are hurting my feet."

The driver shrugged with a small smile, his harsh, hazel eyes still fixed on the road. "Sure. If they hurt then by all means take them off, but maybe get new shoes."

"They make my legs look good," he insisted as he removed his shoes. "Ah, much better. You're a lifesaver," he complimented as he stretched out, finally able to relax.

Steven rested his head back on the window, watching as throngs of people walked across the zebra crossing. He couldn't do the laziest headcount from the amount of individuals that crossed the road even if he tried. God this was boring. Someone make his waiting worthwhile, please. His heart almost leapt out of his throat when he spotted a familiar logo in the crowd. It was the Aerosmith logo!! Steven shot up in his seat and pressed his face to the window, this time remembering to take his glasses off.

"Oh," he giggled, winding down the window and sticking his head out. What an idiot he was. "WOO, AEROSMITH!!!" he screamed, giving the horns, hyped up from spotting someone representing them. "WALK THIS WAY, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!!! AEROSMITH IS COMING TO ROCK YOU!!!"

What? Nothing like trying to market to the public. He huffed when the lights switched to green and they began moving again. No one even batted an eye. So much for advertising the album and fantastic tour they were gonna have. Rolling the window back up, Steven relaxed into his seat again and began feeling around for his wallet, praying he had the cash to afford his journey. Well, his wallet wasn't in his coat. It wasn't in his pockets. And he most certainly wasn't sitting on it. Shit.

"Oh fuck, I don't have my wallet with me," Steven cursed as he kept patting down his person. Nope, he didn't have his wallet. Bollocks. This was the worst fucking day of his life. An 'oof' noise escaped as the taxi pulled over, screeching to a halt on the side of a deserted street. "Hey, what gives?!" he exclaimed, both puzzled and angry.

"You don't have any money, so get out of my taxi! Or I'm calling the police and pressing charges!"

"Fuck you, you cunt!" he cursed, angrily getting out onto the pavement and slamming the door shut, immediately getting caught in a sudden onslaught of heavy rain. Perfect. What a way to end the day.

Steven groaned and looked down at his feet, only to see that he was wearing just his socks. His shoes were nowhere to be seen. He left them in the taxi!! Fuck! Like lightning, a rush of adrenaline struck him. "WAIT!!!" he screamed, suddenly running after the vehicle that was driving off into the night. "WAIT, I LEFT MY SHOES BEHIND!!!" But his screams went unheard, drowned out by the rain slashing against rooftops and windows.

After a while, Steven eventually gave up. He'd lost the surge of energy he'd had and the taxi was completely gone, leaving him alone on a cold, dark, wet night. There was no point chasing something when there was now nothing to chase.

He ran a shaky hand through his hair that had glued flat to the side of his face, trying not to have a panic attack. Someone could easily mug him, right? Five minutes ago he was a millionaire, but now he was shoeless, homeless, moneyless and scared. Hmm...maybe he could hitch a ride from someone. Steven shook his head at his own thought. Nope. Bad idea.

He slowly observed his surroundings, looking to find a trace of anything or anyone that could help him out, but nothing at all. He was completely out of luck. The streetlight lamp above him suddenly buzzed and flickered before the bulb went out, engulfing him in darkness.