The Second Coming || Guns N Roses, Bon Jovi, David Bowie

The Second Coming: One

-December, 1989-

I could feel his breath against my skin, it was as real as the raindrops that made their cautious descent down the glass windows, casting small black shadows on the floor like polka dots.

I could feel his heart beating out of his chest, so strong beneath my fingertips, steady and rhythmic.

I could smell his hair, just a mere whiff sent goosebumps parading down my spine. I could hear his voice whooshing in my ears so lyrically, like the strumming of guitar strings.

"Calliope," he whispered, savoring every syllable.

Those green eyes of his were peering into mine, and I was real again. He could see every part of me, feel every part of me, know every part of me. I wanted to give myself to him, and so I did, and I enjoyed every fragment of pure liberation.

"Sweetheart," his mouth was pressed to mine; my fingers slid through his silky mane, so resemblant of liquid fire.

He was grinning at me, and I was real again. I came to life.

"Calliope."

Oh, but it was too good to be true. The sensation of his presence, the sheer pleasure of his love.

"Calliope? Calliope!"

My eyelids flew open just in time to watch my guitar clatter to the polished wooden floor beside my chair. Not that I wouldn't have heard the horrific sound that followed soon thereafter.

I cringed at my own clumsiness and quickly attempted to gather my senses. I knew it was no use, thinking of Axl almost always consumed me whole. I guess I didn't mind, but the hole he left in me grew a little bigger every time I allowed myself in too deep.

"Calliope!" a sharp voice called, and I nearly fell out of my chair. So that part of the dream was real.

"Oh crap," I whispered to myself as I dropped down onto my knees in front of my chair. I collected my Les Paul along with my radio and hurried to the closet. With a hasty glance over my shoulder, I stashed my things inside along with my other valuables.

"Calliope!" Cap snapped at me again, probably already seated at the dinner table. I was late, which would certainly earn me some repercussions.

"Coming!"

Anxiously, I took another few seconds to admire the gaggle of 'deplorable' items I'd managed to secretly procure; all seven of my t-shirts were safely folded on the ground, all of which depicted band logos. My albums were safe, all twenty-three of them.

I quickly ran my fingers over the smooth surface of Paul Stanley's face on the cover of Dynasty, before shutting the closet and nearly running to my bedroom door.

I took a deep breath and tried to compose myself, running shaky fingers through the length of my hair.

It was time to plaster on a good girl's smile.

I made certain that my posture was perfect before I approached the dinner table with my hands folded. Cap was already there as I had suspected, and greeted me with a disapproving smile. I liked to think he didn't know about my forbidden activities, but even now I know that couldn't have been the case.

One of the two housekeepers Cap employed to look after the house pulled out my chair for me, and I sat as daintily as possible before placing a cloth napkin in my lap.

"Hello," I greeted quietly, forcing myself to meet his eyes.

"Wine," Cap grunted to the other housekeeper. She startled for a brief moment before she ducked her head slightly and reached for the dusty bottle in the center of the table.