𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚜 // 𝚊𝚡𝚕 𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚎 [𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎]

IV: Now And Then When I See Her Face

Thanks to @Gisselle997 who voted and commented on the last chapter; it's probably sounding cliché by now but it means an awful lot that people take the time to not only read but vote and give comments on my story. Thank you again and I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

~

Izzy

"Duff, finish - in fact no, please don't have any more vodka." Izzy sighed at his remembering of his friends' intoxication as he looked around at the 5 around the table. Sliding the glass away from Duff ("Hey! I'm not thaaat druuuuunk...!") and resigning himself to the fact that he would be unable to persuade Axl to not  finish that drink, the slightly intoxicated - but least so of the group - rhythm guitarist checked his watch and his suspicions regarding the late hour were confirmed: 12:17 AM.

"Guys, I'm sorry to be a buzzkill, but we've got to go." Well, though his head was already aching dully and he was still floating on the high of alcohol, at least Izzy's words and logic were coherent. "At this rate we're still going to be hammered in the morning, and we need to record tomorrow, or later today should I say."

A chorus of groans and low-key complaints erupted from Duff, Axl, Steven and Slash; Axl put his glass down with little regard for its staying intact, which luckily it did anyway, but stood up anyway. "Having - hic - a good time, but Izzy here -" he grinned and threw an arm around his bandmate, "- knows what's up with us being sensible."

Izzy sighed internally as Axl drunkenly hugged him sideways, simultaneously relishing in and detesting the contact. 

Don't even go there, he forced himself to think. Just like he had for the last 12 years.

~

Axl

Being drunk was a strange feeling, Axl thought as he and his bandmates meandered down the park path towards their apartments. His thoughts were half-coherent, with more truth in them than he would usually allow through the filters of both decency and willingness; his movements, however, were slower than usual and the path of his feet was in no way a straight line.  He was noticing the way the light from the lampposts filtered lazily down onto the path, part of his brain engaged in a delirious admiration of the mundane, whilst the other half was drifting steadily towards a place he wasn't conscious enough of to prevent it from ending up at: the girl.

Her face, or, more accurately, the back of her head, was imprinted into his brain despite having no good reason to be there to have been planted there in the first place. But in the haze of alcohol, it was gradually solidifying in front of his face as she turned...

It took a good half a minute for Axl to even realise that his imagination wasn't that good.

She was laughing, cocoa brown eyes sparkling with humour as she grinned at another girl whose back was towards him as they sat on the grass, blonde hair glinting in the lamplight as she shook her head as if to say that it hadn't been that  funny. Despite this affirmation, the grin was plastered onto the brown-haired girl's face, smooth cheekbones framing wide eyes. But seeing her again, even in that brief glimpse of amusement, cemented even - or, perhaps, especially - in his delirious state the fleeting but overpowering impression he had received before: she was beautiful. And not only that, but she seemed soulful. Deep. Interesting. 

"Heyyyy! Earth to Axl!" Duff giggled. "Pretty girl, huh? That what's got you so far awayyy?"

"Maybe...?"  

How easy it is, he thought, to feel like you know someone you've never even met formally. How strange, and yet how tantalisingly beautiful.

Why do I feel like I've known her before?