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–Sunday, September 3rd, 1976

    Lita Monroe watched as the victorious red colour of her older brother's '57 Thunderbird rolled around the corner of downtown through the plexi windows in Little Rock's only candy store. Only a few hours past noon, the sun's setting glow could be seen reflected off her Aviators. Lita could hear the last remnants of Elvis Presely's romantic voice as she rounded the booth and exited stage left through the employee entrance, her feet pattering against the ashen sidewalk as she crossed the street towards her only brother, Chris.

    It was a weekly ritual, rinse and repeat, every Sabbath day. Only, this was different, for one month prior, not long after her thirteenth birthday, Lita Monroe and Co. moved up from Little Rock into Lafayette, Indiana. Now, instead of the image she dreamt of her summer to end as, Lita was stuck parading the rainy, dewy roads of Lafayette's inner city as she and her mother continued the trek to what would be her new piano lessons. She only hoped it was more exciting than what the older women at church had said.

    Sometimes Lita contemplated whether her life would be different if she hadn't been poetically and musically gifted. Perhaps she could've spent that last day before high school began scouring the record store she'd passed by earlier that day; or possibly unpacked the dozens of boxes she called her private library; she might've even prepared herself on any missed material from years past, for her gift did let her skip the 8th grade. Her mother's snapping broke the contemplation from her mind as a pair of older boys almost ran her over, one even yelling back at her to watch where she was going. She'd admit that she missed home, that moving had scared her, and that she thought Lafayette was out to get her.

    Almost walking into the door, Lita found her place behind her mother, who for the last minute or so, was talking to an older woman she assumed to be the piano teacher. Faintly in the background could she see a young girl, maybe only eleven or twelve, at a worn bronze-plated piano, and a slightly older boy sitting by her side. Lita had been staring at them for what felt like a century before the boy looked up at her. She quickly looked away, but not before noticing the irritation on his pale face, a slight disgust and discomfort upon seeing her, similar to the look she herself held upon seeing Lafayette. Soon after, mother dearest was swishing her out the woman's home and back to the rusted 1960 Oldsmobile they drove there in.

    "You start next week, if you hadn't heard. I know you weren't paying attention," came the twang of her mother, Betty Monroe, as they sped back to the two-storey shoebox home recently purchased by the family, "Next Saturday. You won't be the only student, Peggy's a bit crunched on time, but needs the money, and I'm sure you won't have a problem making new friends."

    "Not a problem, I'll have to meet people eventually, against my will or not." Lita replied. With the start of freshman year tomorrow, her quiet personality would have to be replaced with the more attentive, personable facade that people knew her as. But Lita wasn't introverted, only around new people. Once she got to know someone, boundaries dissipated and words flung from her mouth like no one could stop her. After stopping at the gas station on the way home, the Monroe women pulled into the driveway of their new house, the for sale sign still sitting hammered into the grass.

    Slamming the car door, Lita looked over into her neighbour's yard. A young boy, much younger than herself, sat on the concrete steps with a metal fire truck, the window next to him open and blaring the Gospel: typical Sunday. Passing by her family and to the second floor (where only her room and the house's only bathroom resided), Lita bounded into the boxed room, opening its only window to embrace the ending summer's heat. She quickly opened the box with her turntable inside, grabbing the old Elvis record from its nook. The same one glaring as she left Arkansas played as she sorted through two more boxes of clothes and posters ready to be displayed along her walls.

    She had to turn down the volume dial when a faint sound was heard outside coming from nextdoor. Across the way, from the window parallel to hers, came Led Zeppelin slowly blaring loud to drown out her own music. She couldn't focus on organizing the plethora of bookshelves, nor could she stand the sound of Robert Plant's voice so loud it hurt. She did like Zeppelin, but not against her will, only when in the mood. Ready to tell whoever off for the obnoxiously loud record, Lita looked into the pane of her neighbour's window, glancing into the bedroom. Another young boy, different from the one on the steps, around her age, possibly older, sat on the bed, facing her, and reading a magazine. From the distance, Lita sensed a familiarity in the features of the boy. She could see his profile: pudgy cheeks, but under that a slightly defined jawline; a nose, flared and stuck out in an esthetic plane; what looked to be a rusty-copper colour hair, similar to her mother's Oldsmobile.

    She could remember him if only he looked up, but for now the boy next door remained unknown. Yet, Lita couldn't help the longing feeling tugging within her to catch his attention, she needed to know him, if only for a new connexion, or for the electrostatic attraction she felt between herself and the red-haired boy. Instantly looking up from what was probably a stolen Playboy, Lita ducked away under the windowsill to hide from his gaze. It was only a quick glance, she told herself, regaining the strength after a minute or two to look up. But, there was always the possibility in her overthinking of a head that maybe he felt that same force that drew her from Elvis and into his eyes, that same force that would bring their eyes to meet again, not so soon, but after fourteen years.

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A/N: I feel like that's a lot of words to begin, but apparently not. This is my first ever story so please do point out any mistakes. Also, I have no schedule of updating this currently, so please don't get your hopes up about me updating all the time lol. And, I love making references, so there will be lots of very niche ones all over this fic, there's a few in this first chapter already :)

14 years - Axl Rose x OCWaar verhalen tot leven komen. Ontdek het nu