how soon is now? || w. a rose [i/v]

AXL I

"So...you met your fiancée in a bathroom, at a party?"

"Yeah,"

"Did you know who she was?"

"No."

"So you talked to a random woman you didn't know at a company party? In a bathroom?"

"Yeah...and then I realized she was the chick from the Levi's ad, the 'I want your sex' one."

//MTV interview with Axl Rose regarding his first meeting with his fiancée Andy Bernow, 1990

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w. use of the word "fag" is for the british english word for cigarette. this outdates the use as a slur, if the word is ever used as a slur for the lgbt community, it will be warned! drug and alcohol abuse.
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'89
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God, his head was killing him. The party had been going on for less than an hour, he'd not even had a single drink, pipe or fuck but he just wanted to leave. The pound of the music mixed with the ever growing pressure clamping down on his forehead.

Why the fuck was Geffen hosting a party anyway, all they were doing was encouraging their biggest bands vices? All the fuckers were gonna do was kill themselves, then who would record the next fucking album? He would, of course. All he ever did these days was pick up after the rest of them, their addiction, their mistakes, their everything. If it wasn't Slash stumbling along the strip at 4:00 in the fucking AM, it was Duff slurring his words everyday at the studio, or even worse it was Izzy getting arrested. He didn't even want to start about Steven.

The day they stepped off the tour back in '88, Geffen should have pulled them to rehab kicking and screaming, if they were lucid enough to do so, sucking the black, soulkilling, murderous tar from their blood. But, no they hadn't, they just let them loose back onto the streets of LA, and all the leeches that littered the gutters. Well, that wasn't exactly true, they had sent Steven, and that had failed, maybe they just couldn't afford it. They complained enough about paying for an ambulance when the fucker overdosed.

And Axl just had a feeling, a gut churning, god fearing, feeling about the performances with the Rolling Stones. He nearly died when he heard he might get to perform with Mick Jagger, and then he nearly died when he thought of getting everyone on stage. He knew it was going to end terribly. Actually, fuck having a feeling, Axl knew something world go wrong.

He knew because he could see Steven was throwing up in a trash can two feet away, where he had been for the past five minutes. Axl supposed he should count his luck that Steven was coherent enough to throw up standing, instead of lying face down and choking, he hoped someone in this place knew first aid. Everyone who dared be around Guns N Roses, should have at least first aid.

The worst part was this wasn't what bothered him the most, it was Izzy sitting on the couch opposite him. His eyes seemed to glaze over, the light and warm hazel dead like fall leaves, any kind of recognition seemingly lost in the stagnant pond, the tab of his cigarette falling out of his hand, the ash completely missing the tray.

Izzy sat with two women, a blonde and redhead chatting away, pushing hair over their bare shoulders. His dilated pupils seemed to take no notice at the pairs of tits falling over his nose.

Axl could only hope Slash was somewhere upstairs fucking a chick, he only knew where is guitarist was 10% of the time, and normally it was only a vague inclination. He spent a lot of time trying to spot the curls and top hat, like a fucked up game of Where's Waldo.