Fallout: Part III of The Journal Series

Chapter Fourteen: Seattle Snow

December, 1998.

I had only met up with Duff once since the party, when he was down in L.A. for business. It was a brief rendesvous, just enough time for a quick lunch and a therapeutic session of chit-chat and laughs before he had to jet off to a meeting, not leaving until four smiling pecks were shared beneath the blaring autumn Californian sunshine.

Things weren't strained in the slightest despite the drama and happenings that had occurred. In fact, it was just like old times: pet names, "I love yous," "How was your days?" and more, all through a thousand mile wire.

Buuut that doesn't mean our faux pas didn't come without its own heapin' helpin' o' shitstorm. 

After the party my calls weren't being answered. It was a total fuckin' blackout of communication; out of nowhere I was suddenly ignored. The line just rang and rang until the answering machine picked up and I hung up after a perplexed and concerned, "Hey, it's Slash. Call me," to try again later, waiting and waiting for Duff to return my calls and always winding up disappointed.

It was the damnedest fucking thing, too. Every now and then I would receive messages that he was trying to contact me, but every single time I attempted to reciprocate I got left in the dark. We could never seem to catch each other, and it made me think the worst.

It took me weeks and weeks to get a hold of his ass, and when I finally did I was pretty goddamn frustrated.

"Hello?"

"Dude, what the hell's been goin' on?! I've been tryin' to get a hold of you for a fuckin' month or more! The fuck, man? I thought things were cool between us."

"What?" Duff sounded totally lost, stunned that I'd crawled his ass right off the bat. "You haven't called. Or at least..."

"Ohhh..." His voice died with comprehension, then returned, irked and hissy, "Fuckin' Susan. She must not've been tellin' me you called."

"What?" It was my turn to be confused...and also a little panicked. "You're still together?"

A lengthy, stressed breath of preparation and a lighter struck over the line. "I wouldn't exactly say that. It's more of a roommate situation now, ya know?"

"No, I don't know, seeing as I haven't talked to you in over a fuckin' month," I snipped. "What's goin' on?"

"Okay, well, like, don't be pissed off at me, man. It's not my fuckin' fault; I didn't know," Duff clapped back, seething with defense. "I figured you were busy with the tour and would get back to me when you could. Shit."

I drug a hand through my hair, catching numerous curls in my fingers to tug them hard in strain.

 

I closed my eyes and shook my head, sighing out a roil of tension while forcefully pinching the bridge of my nose. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I've just... I've just been worried, you know? I thought...I thought maybe you changed your mind or something."