When the car finally pulled into the neat, brick driveway, the sun had sunk far below the observable horizon, only leaving behind the breathtaking cosmos, which was blended with many hues of indigo and amaranth and sprinkled with glistening stars that winked down at them all. It was like looking up into the rich heavens, so full of beauty and bursting with mystery that made you wonder what lay beyond it or if there was anything surpassing that at all. It was truly a magnificent sight.

"Home at last," Tom breathed as he killed the buzzing ignition and the radio, before collapsing back into his seat in exhaustion. The afternoon had been a complete and utter trainwreck. What with the snow, Steven and Joe having one of their usual childish arguments, being trapped in the studio with no heating and Joe not offering them coffee, he was quite ticked off about the whole situation, though he did his best not to show it. Getting angry wouldn't help; it would only rile everyone up.

'To hell with everything' he thought, completely unfazed when Steven leaned forward and did a colossal burp in his ear. Aside from his bitterness, it felt so good to be back home.

"Right," Tom said finally, running his hand through his long, unkept champagne blonde hair.

'Unkept' was an exaggeration. Compared to Joe's thick, wavy head of hair, not a single strand was out of place.

"Let's get inside before we freeze our asses off. Okay? Joe? Joey?" he asked. He had just realised that he hadn't heard anything from these two in a while.

Tom turned in his seat and saw that Joe and Joey were snuggled up together, both in the arms of Morpheus.

Joey had his head in Joe's lap, a little spittle sliding down his chin from his partially open mouth, whilst Joe's bony, calloused hand grazed the side of Joey's delicately defined jawline. There was little to no movement or sound from either of them, just an occasional twitch and a groan, and then silence once again.

He smiled. It was so cute. Though Tom couldn't help but wish he was the one who had Joey's head in his lap and not Joe. It was always Joe. Joe ceaselessly got the girls - and apparently the boys too. He was like Steven; he didn't even have to try to get someone, he just did. In other words, he was jealous. Not very jealous because he knew sleeping was both out of their control, and that they'd never intentionally fall asleep together - at least, he hoped not.

Steven, however, found all of this the exact opposite of cute. Granted that it wasn't intentional, it really got under his skin. In his mind, this wasn't how it was supposed to be- whatever that meant. He pressed his sharp, pink tongue to the roof of his mouth with annoyance.

God, how the sight of Joey and Joe curled up together pissed him off. Fuck, he wanted to commit some sort of heinous act right now to relieve how he felt. Though, that wouldn't exactly further his career or make his incessant track record of being a reckless human being look any better.

Unbuckling his tight seatbelt, he flung the passenger door open, and launched himself out into the frosty air, momentarily forgetting that there was rough, solid ground underneath the thick blanket of white.

Steven cursed as he tripped over uneven terrain and landed harshly on his hands and knees, but he quickly picked himself up off the frigid, wet floor and continued to dash towards the front door. If he couldn't have a go at Joey and Joe, who currently had very punchable-looking faces, then he'd have to find another way to take out his anger.

"Sounds good to me," he heard Brad pipe up cheerfully from the car.

Steven fished around in his coat pocket for his house key (everyone in the band had one, just in case), but he quickly realised he was wearing it around his neck. Hey, you could never be too careful, especially since this was his third key. The first one, he'd misplaced, and the second he'd bizarrely ended up flushing down the toilet. God only knows why he had it with him in the bathroom.

He pulled the warm key over his head and pushed it into the brass lock. Steven flinched as the key dug into his scraped, bloody red palm as his slim fingers curled around the head of it, though, his hands were trembling so much that he was finding it difficult to turn the key.

"Do you want some help?" Joey offered from behind him. He had nimble hands and a good grasp, which had been influenced by his drumming.

"No," the headstrong lead singer told him firmly. "I can do it."

There was an awkward pause as he continued to struggle, but after getting a firm grip on the key, he managed to turn it in the chink. Forcing the stiff door open, he stripped off his long vermilion coat, blue scarf and bag from his numbing body, and left them all in a heap on the outrageous pink, red, yellow, black and orange striped foyer rug.

An exasperated "Steven" came from Tom as Steven kicked his trainers off and stumbled up the winding stairs to his room, too enraged to straighten one of the many paintings and pictures that lined the achromic wall that he had knocked crooked. As he passed, a painting of a deer fell off the wall and tumbled down the staircase with a resounding clunk, clunk, clunk.

He heard a couple of indistinguishable grumbles from the bottom of the stairs, but he didn't care. He just... he just... Slamming his bedroom door shut, Steven stormed over to his window that overlooked the street and repeatedly banged his fists against the glass.

Despite constantly living through emotion, he couldn't quite pinpoint why he felt so pissed off with Joe and Joey, but he did. Especially Joe. Always Joe. On the other hand, Joe always made him feel something, which was usually very irked.

Anyway, if he couldn't slap someone and raise absolute hell, then he'd raise absolute hell in the privacy of his room. And that started with destroying his treasured record collection. It wasn't ideal, but he could always go down to the music store and buy new records. He had the money, so that wasn't a problem.

Either way, Steven needed something to break to let out his internalised anger. His knees were still painful from falling, but he knelt down on the grubby, red carpet anyway.

Pulling the record box towards him, which was luckily within arms reach, he began pulling records out of their sleeves and smashing them against the wall.

After a couple minutes of smashing, he eventually reached the last record.
His favourite guilty pleasure: Led Zeppelin IV. Don't get him wrong, he loved lots of albums from many different artists and bands, but Led Zeppelin would always have a special place in his heart. Stairway to Heaven was such a bloody fantastic tune. Five minutes in was when the magic happened, 'cause, ooo, it made his dick go hard every time he listened to it.

The English rock band didn't completely override his volatile relationship with the lead guitarist or his overwhelming desire to eventually have his ashes scattered over the beach so he could forever get in girls' pants, but it was close.

Be that as it may, he knew the shattering of Led Zeppelin IV had to take place. Besides, one more broken disc wouldn't exactly make a big dent in his piggy bank.

Steven was getting ready to hurl, but something was stopping him from doing so. 'Something' being that Led Zeppelin's music had helped him through more shit than he'd like to admit.

He brought his arm down and scanned the dusty cover for a few minutes, observing the small creases along the edge of the sleeve and the slight tear in the corner, which he had sloppily mended with multiple layers of sticky tape.

Steven smiled slightly. Music had helped him through bad times as well as good. He stared at it for a few more seconds before emptying the record into his hand. Steven brought it up to his pale face and gently pressed his lips to the edge of the record before that too was just a million pieces of black plastic on the red carpet...

It took a moment before it finally sunk in. In his fit of intense rage, he had just destroyed all thirty-nine of his vinyls. His precious vinyls. Some of them were limited edition and had taken him ages to get his hands on, but now they were just useless pieces of junk. Fuck. Steven bit his lip. He thought that breaking all his records would help, but he just found himself in even more of a rage.

Getting up, Steven began going around his room knocking stuff over and throwing things. He was so angry and so hell-bent on causing as much destruction as possible to make him feel better that he barely noticed the pain in his hands. As he pushed everything off his overcrowded dressing table, it suddenly clicked why he was acting and feeling like this.

Jealousy. He was jealous of Joey. I mean, he'd never got to lay his head in Joe's lap and had Joe caress his jawline, but that's probably because Joe would've just told him to fuck off. Not that Steven completely minded being denied Joe's affection. Okay, he minded. He minded a fucking lot. Steven let out a blood-curdling scream. He hated being so jealous.

Yanking his wardrobe open, he began tugging boxes off the shelf and emptying their contents onto the floor. Steven then began hurling all of his clothes onto the rug, but he stopped when he found himself clutching one of his favourite blazers. Well, 'his' was a bit of an exaggeration. It was actually Joe's. Or rather, 'had been.' Joe had given it to him a couple of years ago when he'd forgotten his coat one breezy September morning in '73 whilst he and Joe were taking an early stroll through the woods.

~

Autumn leaves crunched beneath their feet, and the gentle morning breeze ran its icy hands all over Steven and Joe's slim bodies, making the two young men shiver and walk closer together.

Steven, who was usually very chatty when he and Joe were together, had been worryingly quiet. Joe figured that he had finally learned to shut up and just enjoy the wonders of nature, but it was the complete opposite.

Steven had quite conveniently forgotten his coat and was only wearing a flimsy see-through shirt. He rubbed his slender arms harshly, attempting to keep as warm as he could get.

"Are you okay, Steven?" Joe whispered into his ear, his hot breath burning Steven's rosy face.

'Are you okay?' What kind of an idiotic question was that? Of course he wasn't bloody okay. He was numb and shivering.

Steven nodded, though Joe, being the discerning person he was, could see right through his lie.

"Here," Joe said, shrugging his best blazer off and draping it around his friend's lean, quivering shoulders. "this should stop you from being cold."

Steven looked at him in surprise. Joe hadn't been this nice to him for a long time. "But what about you? You're already getting goosebumps up your arms."

Joe shrugged and smiled. "I'll be alright. It's more important that you're warm. And by the way, don't worry about giving it back. You can have it."

Steven smiled at this sweet gesture and pulled the slightly oversized blazer tightly around himself. "Thank you, Joe."

~

Coming back to reality, Steven pulled the blazer closer to him. He loved how it felt in his hands. And, as much as he was angry and jealous, and thought Joe was a big dick, he couldn't help but bury his face in the gentle fabric.

It soothed his flushed cheek and made him feel extremely nostalgic, especially since shortly after Joe gave him his blazer, it started raining cats and dogs, and they fell over running all the way home.

Once Steven's breathing became more even, he realised that it smelled faintly of Joe. The blazer had been his, after all.

Pulling it away from his face, Steven studied the cutaway. The immaculate stitching and the flawless cut were remarkable. It was in such perfect condition that it looked like it had never been worn. Hmm, maybe he should put it on. Just this once. Nobody would ever know.

Carefully removing it from its hanger, he pulled the blazer on. He then stood in front of his grimy wardrobe mirror and oggled at his reflection. Running had mussed his hair and his usual set of soft eyes were dark with fury. He looked a right state. As for the blazer, it fitted like a glove - that is if you glossed over the fact that it was a bit baggy and hung a little below his stinging palms.

Drawing his gaze away from himself, he looked around his room. Oh. He had forgotten that he had trashed it mere minutes ago. Sighing, he began tidying up, starting with his tossed clothes.

After everything was back in order and the blazer was back in his wardrobe, Steven flopped down onto his still unmade bed and switched his pathetically tiny radio on hoping it would take his mind off things. More specifically, Joe. And it did for a while. That was until it suddenly started playing one of his songs. Dream On. He was delighted at hearing one of his songs played back to him, but as Steven listened to the catchy tune, a million and one memories came flooding back.

~

"Hey, Joe! Guess what?!" Steven shouted excitedly, his hair bouncing as he burst into Joe's room. "I have this great idea for a new song! And I've started-"

But he stopped when he saw mountains of cardboard boxes dotted around the bedroom and no Joe. Steven's immediate thought was that Joe had either been kidnapped, which wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing, or been abducted by aliens. He wouldn't have minded either scenario, but then again, Aerosmith needed their lead guitarist.

"Joe?" he called loudly as he carefully edged his way around a huge box marked 'Joe's Stuff' in enormous cursive, black lettering. Where had that beautiful stud of a man gone?

"Oh, hey, Steven!" Said a mop of fluffy hair that popped up from behind an enormous stack of boxes on Steven's far left. "Sorry, I couldn't hear you," the rest of Joe explained as he got to his feet. "I had headphones on."

"That's alright," Steven reassured him. "I just came in to talk about a good idea I have for a song. I've already written some of it."

'Written' because he had only jotted down three words.

"Oh, that's cool. What's it called?"

"Big Ten Inch Record."

Joe raised a dubious eyebrow at the seemingly ridiculous title. "Okay..." he said slowly. "What's it about?"

Steven pointed at his crotch. Joe shook his head, not quite catching onto Steven's drift. "Your jeans?" he guessed when he saw the disappointment on his friend's face.

Steven slapped his forehead in disbelief. He thought his intimate gesture would've given Joe a hint to the origin of the song. Apparently not.

"Anyway," Joe continued, not bothering to take a second guess. "guess what?"

"What?" Steven sighed, folding his arms, very uninterested in whatever Joe had to say.

"I'm moving in with Elyssa."

His neutral face immediately fell. What?! He felt his insides begin freaking out. The band had only been in this tiny apartment for two weeks, in each other's faces all day every day, writing songs, and now Joe wanted to move out to be with his girl? Without even telling him???What a dick. He could've at least let him know.

It would've been nice if Joe could have been bothered to pick up a phone and given him a bell to tell him. You know, just a simple: "Hey Steven, I'm moving out to live with Elyssa and plan to get laid every night and never talk to you again. Don't worry, I'll visit you and the guys once a year. A few hugs and kisses then I'll fuck off back to my place and cut you out of all our photos," would've sufficed.

"Who?" Steven burst out, unable to process this information.

Joe blinked. "You know, my girlfriend, Elyssa," he said nervously, pushing a stray lock of hair behind one of his pierced ears.

Oh, yes, her. The drop-dead-gorgeous pinball wizardess who was dating his best friend.

"Why?" Steven asked, trying to keep his composure.

"Because I love her."

"When are you going?"

"The day after tomorrow."

Shit. He was the last to know everything.

"Anyway..." Joe proceeded to ramble on about him and Elyssa and express his excitement about moving in with her as he continued packing his things.

"What about the song?" Steven asked meekly, waving his half-written lyrics about in the air. "Joe!" he shouted, trying to make himself heard over his friend's nattering.

"What?!" Joe cried in alarm, snapping out of a trance-like state.

"Song?!" Steven waved the piece of paper under Joe's hooked nose, attempting to jog his short memory.

"Oh yeah. In terms of the writing, you're on your own. Sorry."

He huffed. Fuck him. But whatever. He didn't need Joe to help him finish writing a song. He'd written plenty himself without help.

"Hey, why the frown?" Joe asked, putting down a stack of patterned shirts and gently lifting Steven's chin up with his thumb and forefinger.

Steven sighed and pushed Joe's hand away. It was complicated. "It's complicated."

"Just try to explain. I'm all ears," Joe said, making sure he was making eye contact with Steven.

"No. It doesn't matter," Steven decided, folding his arms, not looking at Joe who was slightly hurt as well as confused.

There was silence between the pair. Steven wasn't the type to reveal his true feelings. He usually kept them to himself - except when it came to music or relationships, whereas Joe was an open book - or a half-open book as Steven liked to put it.

"Come on, I'm not going to judge you, you know that."

Steven let out a disapproving grunt. He wondered what Joe would say if he found out if he was jealous that he was moving in with Elyssa instead of continuing to stay living with him.

"No," he repeated. "You wouldn't understand."

Joe raised his eyebrows. Apart from grunting, that seemed to be his only form of communication. "I would if you explained it to me."

"God, Joe, what don't you fucking understand about the word 'no'?!"

"I understand perfectly well, apart from the part where you're being an idiot!" Joe shouted as Steven stalked out the room, song in hand. He paused. "What's the song about again?"

The bastard really hadn't been listening to him at all.

"It's about my cock!" Steven shrieked before slamming Joe's door shut.

~

Steven felt a couple of sad, angry tears roll down his face. The rage and jealousy he'd felt when Joe moved out was indescribable. Why did Joe have to go and live with that awful woman? How he managed to tolerate her every moment of every day was astounding considering Steven couldn't even tolerate five seconds of her bullshit. And anyway, it had always been about Elyssa. It was Elyssa this and Elyssa that.
It had never been about him and Joe. Dare he say them. They acted like they were in their own little world, and that nobody mattered, and that they were so cool, and - Steven sighed and switched the radio off. He didn't want to think about anything anymore.

Getting up, he went over to his wardrobe and opened it. Pushing aside the endless boxes that he had recently thrown, he brought down a glass jam jar. It didn't actually contain any jam, just a heap of suspicious-looking white powder which was exactly what you thought it was. Unscrewing the lid, he sat down on the dirty carpet and went through the process of snorting the powder.

After he was considerably wasted, he hid the jar back behind the boxes. There was a sudden knock at his door. Knock Knock. What the fuck did someone want now?

Wiping the powder off his face, Steven stomped over to the door and flung it open.

"What?!" he screamed at the person who had knocked. "Oh, it's you." His expression relaxed a little, though his hand stayed on the door handle so he could slam the door shut in a flash.

"Nice to see you too," Joe sassed, his hands on his hips.

Steven snorted at Joe's sarcasm. "Whatever. What'd you want?"

"Well, Tom asked me to give you your bag that you left downstairs, and to let you know that dinner's ready," Joe said, holding his tongue so as not to make a comment that he could see the powder on his friend's face.

"Oh. What's for dinner?"

"Well, come down and find out," the sassy, grumpy mouth replied.

"You know what, forget it! I'm not hungry!" Steven exclaimed angrily, jerking his bag out of Joe's hands and tossing it onto his pillow. And with that, he banged the door shut in Joe's face.

Joe hummed angrily and got down on his hands and knees. "A 'thank you Joe for bringing up my bag' would be nice," he called through the crack in the door.

Steven tutted. Cheeky schmuck.

"THANK YOU JOE FOR BRINGING UP MY BAG! I'M SO GRATEFUL!" Steven bellowed from the other side of the door.

Joe grunted crossly. It wasn't exactly the type of appreciative response he wanted, but it would do for now.