Book Two : Aveline. | Slash Fanfiction

chapter twenty-four

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TWENTY-FOUR - 1992, London.
Day Two : An Encounter of the Watery Kinds

          GLANCING IN THE cracked mirror one last time, Saul gulped a deep breath and adjusted his curls, brushing them away from his face worriedly. He reached down, picking up the labelled cologne Steven had so generously gifted him as they explored a corner store for condoms and cigarettes after their night at the bar, spritzing the scent against his chest as his nose scrunched up, flinching away from the bitterly cold spray. Saul had never particularly been the type of guy to wear special colognes.

"Jesus Christ, Slash, you fucking ready yet?" Steven yelled out, slamming his left fist against the closed bathroom door as he inhaled the smoke from the cigarette in his right hand. "You're takin' longer than your chick." And as if on queue, Aveline's muffled agreement rang out through the door as Saul felt a soft smile grace his teeth.

"Yeah, hurry up, Princess!"

"Alright, Alright." He chuckled, sauntering over and swinging the lock to the opposite side, opening the white wood with ease and posing with a slight pout to his lips, ruffling the back of his curls amusingly. Aveline grinned and wiggled her plucked eyebrows, glancing him up and down as he did her. She wore a burnt amber, silk, shirt, and a pair of single black jeans, her usual sneakers to fit it all off with, her hair left to hang naturally. Saul had his Motörhead band shirt clung to his torso, leather pants secured around his underwear-less legs, the cowboy boots jingling among his steps as he plucked his leather jacket from the floor and dusted away the dirt of the ground from its fabric.

She smiled wolfishly and trailed her gaze slowly to meet his, raising an eyebrow as she did so; "I gotta say, Hudson," She began, "You've got one hell of a wardrobe."

"What's mine is yours, Leanie." He retorted, shrugging nonchalantly. "What's mine is yours."

"Okay, Lovebirds." Steven scoffed, rolling his eyes and clapping Saul upon his shoulder, sending him to jerk forward slightly with an unamused frown spangled on his brows. "You got places to be, I got people to see. Let's go." Saul had explained to Duff and Izzy during the early hours of that morning the entire situation with Steven, and how they should make an effort to regain their friendship with him if they were capable of doing so. Both Duff and Izzy were more than elated to hear one of their best friends had returned, even if it was only temporary, and that he was not only sober, but feeling unbelievably forgiving and willing to meet up for a few beers and a chat. Just like the old days. Before the drugs kicked in, that is.

The clock read eleven-fifteen - a little too early for Saul's taste - and the view from their balcony was anything but desolate. From what Saul could remember of London, it was always unbreathable and packed, a new stranger with every step you took. And he didn't like that too greatly, with his strong disliking for crowds and his frustration with the bustling and quite frankly rude passers by. They sure loved to use their elbows. 

The curly haired man, the dyed ginger and the blonde exited the hotel sweet, Aveline slamming the door shut surprisingly loudly behind them as Steven handed down two cigarettes for them both, one of his own chuffing away between his grinning lips as they all sauntered on down the hallway.

Steven and Saul had this walk. And they'd always have it, as long as they lived, from what Aveline believed, because they were rockstars. Rockstars at heart, rockstars by nature. Their shoulders barreled with every step they took and their hips swung down as their legs extended, lazy and cool. Breezy, as though nothing bothered them, without a care in the world. With a cigarette in their mouths and a smirk on their lips, they knew the bad things people said about them. But they simply couldn't give a shit if they tried.