Third Night

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I watched him. More like, stared at him, actually. But he was sound asleep, so I guess it didn't matter a whole lot. The one lamp we owned was on in the corner, casting a dim light everywhere. The shadows were deeper than the light.

He'd pretty much slept the whole day. I did some running around earlier: bought a new pair of pants, visited Del at his new house, said hello to Tim, Rod and Erica, and picked up some water for Axl. It was the least I could do for him. He looked a little better today, but his voice sounded horrible. Oh well. Our PA system was shit anyway. No big thing. I had to wake him up just to eat, not that we had much. Now he was sleeping again. But to be fair, it was close to two in the morning, if my watch still worked.

I couldn't sleep. I was propped back against the wall, smoking what was left of my cigarettes. And watching him. I felt like I couldn't take my eyes off of him: he fascinated me. His long, perfectly straight red hair... it looked like fire, and glowed in the dim light. His skin was clearer and prettier than any girl's; porcelain, but soft as milk. I wonder if he used any lotion or anything? His waist and hips were so slender, curvy, like a girl's. And even though his eyes were shut, I could feel their warmth. He really did have gorgeous eyes...But he was my friend. And my roommate and bandmate. What made me think of him like that? We're...friends, right? 

But what about last night? When he held me to him, and I fell asleep on his chest? And this morning, when I woke up still there? Or the night before, when I hugged him close and he didn't pull away? Do friends really...act this way, or feel this way about each other? And how does he feel about me? I mean, we hug all the time, but I've never held a boy so close to me like that, let alone him. Mr. Explosive Bipolar I. Shit... this was all giving me a headache... 

Axl moaned softly and slowly raised himself up on his hands. The sheets slid off of him. He was wearing the clothes he'd worn today, and the day before. They were wrinkled. He rubbed an eye and squinted me; I forgot his eyesight sucked without his contacts. 

“What's with the light, dude?” He said scratchily, sounding slightly irritated and brushing his curtain of hair away from his face. I breathed out, trying my fucking best to ignore my heart pounding. This was some messed up shit...

“Couldn't sleep... Sorry, man. I'll turn it off for you. Did I wake you up?” I asked. In my head, I shouted every swear word I knew. Motor mouth... I'm so embarrassed... 

“No...” He yawned, sitting up, but he still looked irritated. He scratched his head and looked at me. “You ok?”

“Who, me? Oh! Yeah, no, I'm fine. I'm just thinking...” I said, shaking some curls out of my face. He took my cigarette gingerly out of my hand and took a drag. 

“What about? The band? Our happy little home here?” He chuckled in that deep voice of his. Guess he got over being woken up. Then he coughed and handed me back my cigarette. Without thinking, I scooted in closer to him and patted him on the back. Once he was done dying, he smiled at me and dabbed at his watery eyes. 

“You ok?” I asked him. He nodded, massaging his chest. “I've just been thinking...” Axl raised his eyebrows and grinned.

“Well don't keep me in suspense here, jackass. What about?” He smirked. I shrugged, really not wanting to say what I was thinking. Play it cool, Slash, come on... “What?”

“I dunno, about... us, I guess...” I said quietly, dropping my eyes. Well, there it is. Right on the table for both of us to see. Fuck. My. Miserable. Life. I didn't want to know what he looked like right; what expression he wore. My stomach was twisting in on itself. Dammit...

“What do you mean?” came his reply. He sounded confused. I swallowed the lump in my throat and bravely soldiered on. May as well dig myself in deeper, I guess. 

“Like...what are we?” I brought my head up to look at him. His eyes glowed even in the soft light. He smiled.

“Haha, are you getting all existential on me? It's a bit early in the morning to debating this shit with you, man...” He laughed, shaking his head.

“No, no... that's not it...” I sighed, slightly frustrated. Why was it so hard to talk to him? Jesus Christ! Axl frowned, clearly getting fed up with me. And how could I blame him...?

“Well, when you sort it out, let me know. I'm tired and I still don't feel good.” said Axl bluntly, laying back down again and pulling his blanket over him. 

In two seconds, I was on top of him. I'd never wanted him so bad in all my life: to own those gorgeous hips and slender thighs, to stroke his perfect red hair, and to taste those bright red lips. My tongue was inside his mouth, exploring every crevice. He tasted like cigarettes. My hand ran down his white neck, over his voice box, down his slender chest and across his stomach; his heart was racing. God, it felt so amazing to have him there, to feel one with him! He was so perfect—

With a crack, I felt a stinging pain on the left side of my face. It felt like someone hit me with a burning branch or something. Suddenly my head hit wood. White lights popped in front of my eyes and the back of my head ached. The ceiling swam a little...ow...looking in front of me, I saw a flash of red hair, like fire, streak across the room. The sound of the rolling garage door being yanked open and slammed. Dead silence. I cried. Not because of my face or my head... Because what I just did to him did way more damage than anything he had just done to me...

I'm such a heartless bastard...

I fell asleep alone. 

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