XVI

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Axl's POV:

I woke up in a hospital bed. Various wires and monitors were hooked up to my body. The sweet music of a heart rate monitor filled my ears. I wished that it would give a long, solid beep as my heart stopped.

Next to me, on a chair, sat a curly-haired mess with a top hat. He had buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking while he sobbed. "You're such a girl," I muttered. I was in so much pain. I really thought that jumping would do the trick. I really thought that I would die. Boy, was I mistaken.

Slash looked up, his lower lip quivering. "I don't care. You scared me so bad."

"You already said that." He picked up my hand and put it to his lips, kissing it softly. He needed desperately to shave, his scratchy stubble ticking my skin. "I ain't your princess." I pulled my hand away from him.

"You're my king." The way he looked at me sent panic through my veins. I knew he wasn't lying. He'd drop on the dime to help me, and I had taken that for granted. Why had I been stupid enough to believe that he wanted me to die? "And I love you."

I thought of the last thing I'd said to him before I'd jumped. I'd said that I'd loved him too. Did I mean it? I wasn't so sure, was I? "That's it," I sighed. "From here on out, no more trying to kill myself. I promise." I held out my pinkie for him. He hooked his. "No more trying to kill myself."

"Trying does include succeeding," Slash added, knowing all too well that I'd find a loophole if I wanted to.

"Of course." I hadn't crossed my fingers behind my back. "How long and I stuck here?" My hand let go of Slash's sweaty one.

"For at least another day. You've been in and out for a while. They said you were in serious shock, and that you're lucky to be alive."

"Believe me, I know." I closed my eyes. "I guess it's not my time."

"Not until it's mine, too." Slash was being overwhelmingly sweet again. Even now he couldn't be angry with me.

"Why aren't you mad at me?" I looked over at him. "Why aren't you yelling at me like Duff would?"

"Because that's Duff's job. But I am mad at you. It's my own damn fault, but how could you ever believe a word I said when I was high?"

"You wouldn't stop telling me to get out. You told me you shit the bed. You told me that you were sick."

"I am sick." He shook his head. "But I should never let myself be that sick. And after everything that Nikki told me."

"Are you going to rehab?"

"Will you go to therapy?"

"You already know the answer to that."

"Then no, I won't go to rehab. I'll fix myself. All I need is your patience." I wished I could've believed him, but he was dancing with Mr. Brownstone so passionately I knew he was already gone. I didn't bother telling him that it bothered me. I'm a hypocrite.

&&&&

The last twenty-four hours were filled with various doctors and nurses checking up on me. I was forced to sign-off on therapy, but I planned on ditching. No one would make me go, not as long as Slash was around.

He hadn't brought any vehicle to the hospital, so we took a cab out. I took the seat on the left edge, staring out the window until Slash squished next to me. "This whole backseat and you have to be right on top of me?" I complained. Our hips and thighs were pressed against each other's, and he put his arm over my shoulder, pulling me closer still.

"They wouldn't let me hold you." It was hardly a justification, but it did serve as explanation enough. I figured I'd let it slide just this once. Mostly because I was really tired. "Do you need anything else? Anything I can get for you?"

"I'm alright. You just have to pick up those painkillers." I yawned, laying my head on his shoulder. His hair was unsurprisingly fluffy, almost pillow-like because it was so damn thick.

"I'm already strung the fuck out, please don't do anything stupid with them," Slash warned me. "It's a dark and lonely road."

"I won't, don't worry." I knew he was already worried. I knew that he wasn't going to stop panicking until he was sure I was clean, not in pain, and over my depression. Dude's so worried about me he can't even see his own problems. Once again, I felt pity for him.

&&&&

That night, Slash let me sleep with him. I think it was to avoid another incident, but it did feel nice to have him spoon me. He pressed soft kisses into my hair, sometimes brushing it into my face for shits and giggles. "We're not together," I reminded him, yawning as I spoke.

"Not yet. I'll have you soon enough."

"You're so damn cocky."

"It's fun. And I know it will happen. I can feel it in my jellies."

"Your jellies?" I chuckled.

"Yeah, y'know, my gut." He went back to kissing my hair, squeezing me a little tighter. I fell asleep happily.

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