Yesterdays | Slaxl ❦

S E V E N

"Waste forces within him, and a desert all around, this man stood still on his way across a silent terrace, and saw for a moment, lying in the wilderness before him, a mirage of honorable ambition, self-denial, and perseverance."

Axl fell asleep listening to a rather old tune, a song in his own head which he hummed from the deepest of his sorrows, and the highlights of his joy. As each memory passed through his head, the slideshow he had so ruthlessly thought up in vain only revealed each of its facets, the ones he had disregarded with a heavy heart. As he recognized, love changes. But Axl also recognized that the memories of what it once was transcends from anything else.

What his love for Slash used to be was indescribably stunning, in spite of all the changes it had to endure. Most importantly, Axl recalls just how beautiful falling in love felt.

One brooding day in 1985, Axl woke up to strong arms wrapped firmly around his waist, the honey-colored eyes of his best friend adorning his body. Even though the idea of scooting out of this odd entanglement seemed like a priority, Axl took a moment to salvage the sweet warmth encompassing his body. He looked back at the guitarist, raising a brow as a silent inquiry.

"I didn't want to sleep on the floor," Slash mustered up, scooting away sheepishly as he pulled the corner of the heavy fur blanket over his right leg. Axl didn't bat an eye, or question the guitarist any further. Truthfully, Axl would choose squeezing into the only loft in the house (if it even was a house) with the younger man any day rather than sleeping on the floorboards of Hell House, where dozens of strange, boozed-up folks lied helplessly in their own vomit and sweat. It didn't seem fair to push Slash into that mess, and Axl would rather it be him than some other person who he was unfamiliar with.

After Duff, Steven, and Izzy deserted Hell House to live with their then-girlfriends, the remaining two members of the band grew closer, and it was visible in the way they so easily merged within the loft.

Axl sighed, shuffling with the blanket closer to Slash, allowing him to confide within the warmth. He leaned back into the pillow, staring up at the tawny ceiling as Slash curled into the space between his arm and torso, his curly hair splayed out over the singer's chest.

"Do you think we can afford a heater?" He whispered as though they were sharing some secret, but Axl knew better than to think it wasn't because of their ruthless hangover.

"No. We have to pay off rent first," Axl told, and Slash groaned, burying his head in the fur blanket. Axl wished their life didn't have to be such a false dichotomy, as they were living on nothing more than $3 wine, and cheap booze. The money going directly towards their rent was stolen off the women they slept with and what they had scavenged from the near-unconscious bodies lying around the house after reckless parties. If things weren't that way, Axl would've been fond of buying that new Rolling Stone magazine for Slash, which featured Jimmy Page, and Jeff Beck, and all of his favorite guitarists that he's gushed over since the day they met. If things weren't that way, Axl probably would've bought another blanket to keep them both warm during the winter, and a bunch of food and alcohol to satisfy their malnourished bodies. If things weren't that way, he'd be able to afford that heater which Slash vied for since the first cold front that passed.

Although, they didn't have any money for that, and supposedly, that was just the way things had to be. He looked down at the guitarist, finding enough audacity to move aside the wild, voluminous curls that covered his friend's face, his lips curving upwards ever-so-slightly as he recognized those sweet mocha and hickory colored eyes.

"I could keep you warm," he murmured softly, and though Slash found that amusing and pathetic enough to roll his eyes at, Axl still felt accomplished once he saw a smile appear on the former's face. And though crackled and faded from the wintry cold, Axl still found those lips delicate enough in such a way that the idea of kissing them didn't seem peculiar.