There Was A Time -GnR

7. I Don't Care About You

Second Person POV:

After that night you and Axl only talked in a formal way when speaking about band decisions and nothing more. Duff also didn't say a word about that night, he was too drunk and hungover to remember anything. Glad he didn't, he wouldn't be able to live with himself If he knew he passed up the opportunity by falling asleep. It was now nearing the end of the November month. The boys went out to get some Christmas decorations with their minuscule budget. You were in Duffs bed, with the worst cold and the worst period you've ever had. Duff insisted you stay in his bed as it was more comfortable than the mattress, when you refused, he picked you up and sat you on the bed, he brought you a towel to lay on and gave you chocolate from his secret stash before leaving the house with Axl, Slash and Steven. Izzy was staying home to write more songs and shit. Great. You were having the worst day, and you were home with someone who wishes you would burn in hell by his hand. Shit your cramps were bad. You clutched onto your stomach in pain. You hadn't taken any painkillers yet, you didn't know why but it was just a thing to see how long you'd last without them. You coughed as you opened the covers and got out of bed. Slowly walking to the kitchen, sniffing as your nose ran slightly. You got to the kitchen and opened a cabinet to get the painkillers and took a hot water bottle out as well. You put water in the kettle and waited for it to boil. That kettle was the best purchase you ever decided on whilst living in this hell hole. You soon started to have a small sneezing fit, and it didn't help your period as your abdomen started contracting with every sneeze, causing you a lot of discomfort and pain. "Hey! You're supposed to be in bed." You heard Izzy's voice call to you. He stood there with his arms crossed. "Fuck off." You waved your hand at him as you popped the pills in your mouth and swallowed with some water. He took your arm and pulled you back. "Hey-!" You protested. "You're sick, go back to bed." He spoke deep and seriously. "Why do you care about me all of a sudden?" You pulled your arm out of his grasp. "I don't. But you're still my band manager and for the sake of the band nothing can happen to you." He said. You were shocked slightly. "I'll be fine, I won't die." You sniffed, and went back to the kitchen counter to fill your hot water bottle. "I'll do that. You need to go rest." He spoke. You were even more shocked now, but you went back to Duff bed as he told you too.

Izzy did actually make the bottle, he even brought you some pills to drink for the pain and cold. He did throw the bottle on the bed and flipped you off when he walked out though.

You did try get a nap in, but it was only for a few minutes, as you couldn't get comfortable, something was always wrong. You couldn't breathe through your nose, your pad skew, your feet too hot, or too cold. And being in the 80's you couldn't just scroll through your phone or go on your laptop to keep yourself occupied. You were bored out of your mind. The bottle was also getting cold now. You got out of bed again. Walking past Izzy's room, peeking inside to see what he was up to. He was peering at the pieces of paper scattered on his floor as his guitar rested on his lap and twiddled with a pen in his one hand. 'Ah what the hell.' You thought. You walked into his room and plopped yourself down on the floor where there wasn't a piece of paper and crossed your legs as you sat. Izzy was slightly taken aback. "What the fuck are you doing in my room!?" Maybe more than slightly taken aback. "Shut up I'm managing." You said in a congested voice and sniffed as you waved his remark off. "You're too sick to do a managers job, and go back to bed before you spray your disgusting sickness on me." He said. "It's so boring in the bed! I need to do something at least!" You protested. "Go watch TV then! Don't come bothering me!" He responded. "Axl broke the TV remember." You sniffed again. He rolled his eyes, and then proceeded to make every possible argument for you to leave. He soon gave up and let you stay. You took one of the pieces of paper closest to you and skimmed the lyrics. It wasn't finished but the words that were sprawled on the paper were, 'I think about you' 'Honey all the time my heart says yes' and repeating with a change of 'Deep inside I love you best.' But that was all you got before Izzy snatched it away from you. "That one's not done." He scolded. "Who's the lovely lady?" You teased. "Fuck off." He replied in an irritated tone, but he chuckled slightly. His smile was comforting. The next hour or so was you scavenging through the papers and giving him feedback as he played them out. You argued but it wasn't serious. The two of you laughed it out softly together. As you yelled at each other it always ended in a little giggle. The tension between you two eased. You looked over at him, he had a beautiful smile, you didn't get to see it often or ever. He looked back you, your eyes meeting. Glittering green hazel eyes. You quickly looked away as the eye contact was making the air thick and electric. "Okay let's do this one." You said, as you took another paper. He got a bit serious in his tone, "Not that one." He was worried? You glanced at the words 'Back Off Bitch' at the top of the page. "It's okay to get some rage out now and then." You said. He wasn't reaching for the paper, just sitting there in discomfort. You glanced at some more words on the page. 'Face of an angel with the love of a witch.' And more repetition of bitch and lines of crude nature. "I think that's enough." He said, back to his cold demeanour towards you. "You're still sick, get out." He said. You were confused but didn't want to push his boundaries, so you left.

After you scurried back to your room and got back into bed, thoughts were going through your mind. Confusion. Why did he change up so quickly? Did you say something? Was it the song I read, too personal maybe? Shit, was the song about you?  You didn't want to get into an overthinking day as you already had your hormones making you feel like you were in murderous rage. You were feeling tired enough to actually get a good sleep long as the cramps had you drained, and the sick had your brain all foggy. Yet before you got knocked out you thought of what had just happened. You were so disappointed. You thought, finally, the two of you were getting along and that this band manging shit wouldn't be so hard anymore, but no. The Gods had to throw it all back in your face. The future side of you would be in tears, constantly, if it was in full control and knew that Izzy Stradlin hated you. For reasons unbeknownst to you. You didn't know what time it was or how long you slept, but you knew that you were feeling horrid. Like you were dog shit on someone's shoe, and they threw it in a river full of sewage. Cramps, fever, nausea from cramps, nausea from digesting too much mucus with addition of a few hundred other symptoms of death. Fuck you had to get pills from the kitchen you thought as you forgot to bring the stuff before you went to have your nap. You turned over to the side where the bed side table stood. Pain pills laid out neatly, the fizzing of some medicine dissolving in a glass of water. A pot of lemon and ginger tea. Even two hot water bottles. Duff and the others were probably home you thought. Yet it was dead silent except for the faint sound of a soft guitar melody in the other room. The melody stopped. You heard the guitar being put down and footsteps coming closer to your room, but it became softer as it approached. Was he standing by the door? You picked up the bubbling glass of medicine filled water and took small sips, in the corner of your eye you saw Izzy peeking into the room. "Did you do this?" You asked without looking at him. He was startled as he thought you didn't know he was there. He didn't say anything, just cleared his throat a bit as he stepped into the doorway. "Thank you for caring." You said sincerely as you looked at him. He just rolled his eyes, putting his hands in his pockets.

"I don't care about you." He said. "Fuck you" He walked out of view.