Young and Reckless (A Guns N' Roses Fan-fiction)

18. Stay and Help Me End the Day

Never go to sleep mad, as Mama would say. As much as I tried to embrace my parent's wisdom, I went to bed crouching and crying, mad at the world; mad at drugs; mad at Saul and the band-- and mad at myself because no matter how I wanted to change the way things were, I couldn't.

"I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault... I brought this to myself."

I thought the last time that I'd cry for him was when he lied to me and cheated on me, instead we were crying together in each other's arms. Resting his head on the skin between my neck and shoulder, my heart ached more as I listened to his muffled cries. I had seen him soar high and seen him crashed on the ground that is why it cut me deep.

"They'll take you back," I croaked, wiping my tears away with the back of my hand. "We're gonna prove to them that you're getting cleaned up and they'll take you back."

"Not gonna happen," he took a break from crying and sighed. But as the words left his mouth, so did the tears spilled from his eyes. For once in this lifetime, I had never seen him broken this way.

"Everything's gone. They all left me." He weeped which only caused me to hug him tighter. "My band, my friends... my wife... they left me and now I've got nothing."

"You still have me." I forced a smile with the hope to see his blue orbs light up. "I'm with you and I promise I'll help you get through this."

I rubbed the imagined irritant from my eyes but the sticky feeling on my face brought by the tears of the night before were too stubborn to come off. Saul moved but didn't wake up, his hands were still clasping his precious bottle of liquor close to his clothless body. Just by looking at the sleeping man beside me brought the gloominess back inside.

The room was now clean except for the spot on the floor where he lay peacefully like a child, never caring if it's mid day. A pot of stew was brewing on a low-heat meant for him when we wakes up. I couldn't idly stand by and let him skip his meals just to get to his crap of drugs and alcohol. He was destroying himself and there was no stopping him.

Attempting to help him stop was only making it worse, that's what he kept saying to me. And whenever I'd start a conversation about Steven, Saul would flip his lid. I nearly gave up trying anything. Caring too much only leads to losing a lot so why go on?

Please, please pick up. I wiped my tears away with the back of my hand while my other hand held the telephone against my ear.

"Hello!"

I puffed out air, sobbing, "Steven! Thank God I--"

"This is Steven a.k.a. Popcorn but I'm currently unavailable. Please leave your me--"

"Damn it!" I slammed the telephone back to the table and buried my face in my hands. I had lost count of my attempts of ringing him but he never answered nor returned my calls. I never saw him or heard from him since we last talked. That was roughly two months ago.

I fixed myself before Saul saw me in my fragile state. After setting his breakfast on the dining table, I got my things ready while the master of the house took a shower.

"Going A.W.O.L on me again?"

He wore his acid-washed pants and LZ muscle tee as he strode into the room. His brows were knit together, not really happy that I was to get out without telling him.