14 years - Axl Rose x OC

26

Now, at eleven-thirty, Izzy was probably out in the alley with that damn fourth cigarette and possibly chatting with an unassuming female bartender. Something had been going on with him, Lita knew, but he was so secretive–what a hypocrite she was for saying that!–and Lita knew she would never be able to pull the information from him.

Lita was broken out of her thoughts when Axl bit at her neck, nustling his nose against her nose and whispering, "Whatcha' thinkin' 'bout?" Lita huffed loudly, placing her glass against the table loudly. Della looked over at them, scared at possibly being caught, and removed her hand from Slash's body and back to her drink.

Lita looked at her quizzically, eyeing the two of them considerably. "Just Izzy. He seem off to you?" Lita answered, still looking at Della with a sudden ire that she could not reason with. Slash looked about to pass out, and Duff and Linda, stuck between the two couples, were happy right where they were.

Della eyed her back, crossing her eyes off the Axl, still sniffing her neck, and raised an eyebrow. It was an unspoken question. With her eyes, Della was asking what was going on between her and Axl. Oh, Lita would've loved to answer, but not now, and maybe that was the reason for her slight annoyance at her oldest friend. Lita was angry that she couldn't tell Della about her and Axl's secret relationship.

Lita and Axl got up from the table as Izzy came in. "I think I'm gonna' head out," he said. Axl nodded back at him, not bothered by his disgruntled behavior in the slightest like Lita had. "Sure, as long as I get my car back," Axl jested. Izzy answered in the affirmative and left soon after.

That was the last time Lita saw Izzy until September 3rd. And when she did see the Guns N' Roses guitarist, he had grown even more sullen since the day of her birthday. He had reserved inward and, along with not attending their concert after-parties, Izzy made sure he was only present when he needed to be. It was like he had some unspoken agenda he had to attend to that no other member of the band needed to know about. Whatever he was thinking, whatever he was planning, not even Axl–his closest friend in the band–had any clue what it was.

As Izzy left, Lita tried not to think about his introvertedness. He'd been nothing but nice to her, so why would she try and pry into his life. But, Izzy could've been dying, addicted to some other drug like Steven had been, and he'd never told a soul. That was what worried Lita, and she knew it wouldn't end up well for him.

Lita, Axl, Della, Slash, Duff, and Linda spent the rest of the night out at the Cathouse partying and getting as shitfaced as they could in celebration–not only of Lita's birthday, but also the upcoming European leg of the tour. They would do four shows on the continent: one in London, Paris, Madrid, and Dublin.

Lita steered clear of Della and her boytoy the rest of the night, instead getting tipsy off the dozen strawberry daiquiris she ordered. Axl and Lita stayed back near the bar, chatting and flirting casually while everything else happened around them. Lita didn't spot the paparazzi lurking near the windows of the establishment, near their faces. A flash illuminated around them, but both Lita and Axl assumed that was coming from the overbearing lights flashing all around them. White, green, blue, red, yellow, and more bounced off the walls with people dancing before them. Lita's tight dress–that she'd pulled out of her suitcase upon returning to Los Angeles–was slightly lifted as she and Axl talked vehemently. A magazine reporter outside, likely for the Rolling Stone, flipped through the set of photos he'd taken, making sure to snap the camera when the flash would intercept with the white lights blaring inside. Lita and Axl paid no mind–for now.

Not much could be said about Duff and Linda that night. They spent most of their night drinking leisurely in the booth. After the divorce from his first wife, Duff had found solace in this new woman. She had been a great companion the past two weeks–and by God she could drink! That was something Duff admired in his addiction. Once, they went out onto the dance floor. Many people were crowded around them, and Duff could even see Della and Slash thrashing around, both high off something he wanted to get his hands on. Unlike the couples and singles bouncing around him, he and Linda were slow to dance. The alcohol had caused them both to become extremely tired, and the will to dance and be a part of the party was starting to diminish. Just past one, Duff and Linda would leave as well. On the way out, driving out of Beverly Hills, Duff almost crashed his expensive car–laughing as he did so. He couldn't wait to get home and sleep.