Whole New Complexity (A Sequel to Crazy As Normal)(Izzal)

Chapter 18

Axl shuffles off to the dressing room behind fifteen minutes the show was supposed to start. Slash and Duff say nothing but looking at him painfully. Steven makes a fuss about the wounds. Izzy's eyes focus on only Annika.

Axl spits blood into the sink and stares at the man in the mirror; He got a black eye. There's a bruise beside his lips, too. He chuckles at himself bitterly, rubbing a concealer onto the bruise, wearing a pair of teardrop sunglasses then Chanel lip color. A clicking sound he made by his tongue resounds in his head, which is something he usually does when he doesn't like situations, but somehow, it hurts as pricky as the wound. His eyes under the dark glasses meet Izzy gasping in the mirror reflection, but he ignores the raven-haired man. "Okay, guys, let's go."

He sings all songs without difficulty. Though the wounds assert themselves, they don't bother him. He notes Annika standing beside the stage. She doesn't ruin Axl's performance either. His heart's temperature is already thirty-two degrees. It's too cold and numb to feel misery.

Slash smiles at him and offers when they come back to the dressing room. "You wanna come with me? Your kinds of chicks are out there."

"Okay." Axl doesn't figure it out if he wants to spend a voluptuary night. Nevertheless, his brain is entirely numb, Slash tries to cheer up him, and that's sincere. Yep, friends are the dearest thing that you shouldn't let go.

"Can you pass me the ice bucket? Look at my black eye. Goddamnit, it's fucking lame!" Axl takes off the glasses, laughter spurring out from his throat. When your heart is frozen, things often turn hilarious.

"Well, they're gonna still buy you a drink and take you to their beds." Slash gives him the bucket. Someone seems to have bought them the bottles of sparkling wine in the bucket already.

"Hope so." Axl brings it to the sink and looks into the mirror, twisting a cap of a bottle. He brings it to his mouth, his other hand grabbing an ice cube to cool his black eye, but someone stops his hand.

"Don't have booze tonight."

Izzy, in the mirror, frowns his eyebrows. Axl shakes off his hand. Izzy doesn't wince at his reaction and wraps the ice cubes in Axl's bandana, pushing them against his black eye.
"Fuck off." Axl lowers his voice.

Izzy raises his tank top with his other hand that is so very used to this kind of treatment action. Axl stares into the mirror. Annika is applying lipstick, looking into her hand mirror happily, smiling like an angel. Apparently, they'll go out soon, but Izzy's acting like the boy in Lafayette Axl knew awfully well. Oh hell, Axl's no longer Bill abused by his stepfather.

"I'll get a pain relief cream. Stay here until I come back." Izzy still frowns.

"I said fuck off!" Axl slaps the improvised ice pack onto his face. "I'm fucking sick of you!"
Izzy forsook Axl first even though Axl tried to have a conversation again when he came back here. It was Izzy who brought Annika and behaved as if Axl didn't exist.

Izzy doesn't withdraw from his friend; he sooner reaches out to his friend. What the fuck does Izzy want to do? He despised him and now wants to show his warm heart.

Axl screams. "Don't touch me, bitch! I'm not your charity case!"

"Axl, don't be like that." Izzy doesn't look like he gives up, yet Annika pulls his arm and leads to the outside. Axl notices it out of the corner of his eye that Izzy softly avoids her hand as they leave the room.

Axl hazily looks at the ice cubes melting on the floor. If only he was these ice cubes and escaped into a vapor. He's been able to overcome all manner of painful experiences, such as the abuse from his stepfather. Still, he doesn't think he could overcome Izzy's inconsistent behavior. He would die rather than live and suffer like this.

"Slash, I don't feel like getting laid."

"That's okay. Can you go home by yourself?" Slash gently says. Axl lets his head up and down.

"Alright," Slash claps his hands. "I'll buy you a pain relief cream instead of booze. Put on the sunglasses. Let's go."

"Come on, I need a beer!" Axl tries to talk cheerfully.

"Hell, buy one by yourself." The guitarist's soft voice shows his failure.

Slash buys a pain relief cream at a drugstore and throws it to Axl, who is waiting for him on the sidewalk, then disappears into the noisy night. Axl takes a bus. It is an ordinary, dull thirty-minute ride. When he gets to Hell House, nobody's there. At this moment, he recalls Duff and Steven. They weren't in the dressing room when Slash and Axl left there, so they might go to a party involving a few strippers. He takes a shower then collapses into bed, looking around himself in dim light to find the cream. He can't. Perhaps he left it in the bathroom. He decides that he leave it at that and fall into a sound sleep. His body needs rest. He's not going to be troubled by anything with this thirty-two-degree heart.

A banging sound of the front door reaches Axl's ears when it's past about it seems an hour. The loud and rapid footsteps storm into his room.

"Here you are. I've been looking for you all over. I got the cream for you." The hoarse voice is panting. It seems that he, who is Izzy, has run.

Axl becomes rigid, closing his eyes tightly. He's not ready to confront him at all.

"Did you fall asleep?"

Axl remains still. That leads Izzy to believe Axl's sleep.

Izzy knees down, brushes his cheek with the back of his hand then lies down along Axl. The mattress sinks behind his back. His body slightly slants to Izzy.

"Who the fuck did this to you? No one had allowed laying his finger on you if I'd have been there," Izzy's voice trails off.

He holds Axl from the back, inhales in his hair. "Axl, I can't, I, I want," his voice is trembling, trailing off again.

"I'm sorry for coming down on you," Izzy whispers, but doesn't say why he was so harsh on his friend.

Axl's stiff muscles are slowly getting soft. Izzy's caresses successfully pavlov Axl's body. Yet, he isn't going to allow his frozen heart to melt in his selfish apology.

Holy fuck, it's melting already. What a weak mindset he has.