You Don't Come Close.

13

I think we haven't talked to each other in a fuckin' long time now since he got me out of jail. Two, maybe three days, in which Axl just disappeared. Completely. No one has seen him, no one seems to know. But there's a concert in tonight, so we're guessing he'll be back today...or to be honest, we are hoping for him to come. It's luck. It depends on his moods.

Adriana tried to call a couple of times, but I just ignored it, not wanting to talk to her, not wanting her to see my still bruised face.

I don't want just fun.

I repeated it in my head over and over again, even wrote it down on a piece of paper, just to put it into my mouth after wards, chewing on it to make it unreadable. I want the fun. I want the sex. But it was the truth when I declined the romance. It's a thought, an idea, something you imagine, but nothing serious, nothing real. I somehow like the in between phase and a in between phase it has been. Kisses, screwing, sleeping in the same bed, stroking hair out of his face, inhaling his scent the exact moment I woke up in the morning, sharing cigarettes, sharing clothes, the jealousy...the list is long, but stopped, since we returned and he drove away to give the car back.

Maybe it's a good thing, in fact I guess this whole thing between us...well, I don't wanna say was a mistake but it was unreal. It all happened in a haze of drugs and booze and sexual attraction and I'm pretty sure by now we needed the time off from each other to realize that.

It's all about boundaries. Every relationship is. And I let him do anything to me- grab me, slap me right in the face while he fucked me from behind on the goddamn floor. Not that I've been acting better. It's just that I have to ask myself if that's what I am, what I want to be. I never cared for genders and homophobia, it's making no sense to me to judge others for whom they want to fuck, but in the end I care for whom I want to fuck.

When I am honest to myself it's mostly about pride. But not entirely. I had been about pride when he and Adriana played their little games with me- but I am just very sincere about my own person, the way I see and characterize myself, the way I just am and I'm slowly getting the feeling that I lost side of it. I stand up, loosening my waistband and throwing my shirt away, standing naked in the middle of the room and looking down at myself.

It always fascinated me how much we know about our own mind, but so less about our bodies. It's kinda scary what kind of bloody, slimy stuff is swimming inside of our bellies and we'll never be able to see or touch it. It makes me wonder how much is laying in our souls, so much we can't see. I throw myself on the bed with my guitar, lazily playing some notes, the cool underside of it pressed to my crotch.

Sensations. Simple sensations. That's what turns me on. Maybe it has never been about feelings.

I jerk when suddenly the door opens and closes, Axl storming inside, but stopping in his movement as he sees me. "What are you doing?"

"Playing." I wave with the fretboard.

"But-", he's closing his mouth again, just looking at me now.

"Are you ok? Where have you been?"

"Nowhere."

"Ok."

He sighs, starting to massage his own neck. "Slash...we have t-"

"No."

"What?"

"Don't. Just...come here, ok?"

He's not moving at first, but then does a few steps forward, sitting down when I reach out for him. I lay the guitar aside, crawling near to him, totally naked. "Just...can you...we gotta test this out, ok? It's...can you say it? Do you know?"