Guns For Roses (Frerard)

Chapter 4

^look at those fuckers. cinematic master shot.

dude I just finished writing this at 5:47am on a Wednesday morning and I'm so close to tears with relief. TIME TO EDIT IT HAHAHAHAHAHAWHYHAHAHAHAHA edit: its 6:54am I need to cry but it's fucking done so here you go you fucking rad humans

WARNING: death, murder scene, drug use, mention of needles, fighting, wounds.

It was a long day. A really long day. 

For about a week, we had stayed inside at our hotel, waiting for Pete to come and get us. We only really went out to get food. We didn't go out to party or drink or even see a movie. We knew Pete would be coming for us any day, but he was waiting.

What was he waiting for? I wondered. I know he knew where we were. I hated waiting. It made my nerves jumpy. I'd been popping more and more pills just to relax and fall asleep at night. Which just made me crave more.

Pete wasn't just waiting to scare us though, he was planning something. Something bad.

And Frank, well, Frank was just a restless little fuck. He never sat still before, but now he was always bouncing or walking around or tapping his hands on the table or bobbing his head. At first, I couldn't tell if he was nervous, or if he just had too much energy to release, but after about six days, he made it clear to me that it was the latter. 

We'd known each other about six months at this point, so I feel like I should have been able to tell when he was close to losing it, but when he asked me what he asked me, I was pretty sure he'd totally fucking lost his marbles.

"Fight me."

Okay, he didn't ask me to, he told me to. It was not a request.

"What?" I asked, looking up at him from my book. 

"Come on, I have to blow off steam, release my energy." He bounced back and forth on his feet. Lifting his hands up, he waved me toward him. "I'll go nuts if I don't do something soon."

I refrained from stating that he already lost his mind, and shut up my book, tossing it to the head of the bed. I stood up and faced him, crossing my arms. 

"Yes. Yes. Yes." He said quickly. "I know you want to. You've wanted to hit me for weeks, I can see it in your eyes."

He's a little bit right. For a few days now I wanted nothing more than to punch his lights out. I don't dig unnecessary violence, but oh, my God, he was just so much! And he was literally asking me to...

"Throw a punch." He said licking his lips in anticipation.

"You want me to punch you in the face?" I asked for clarification.

"Yes! Hit me as hard as you fucking can!" He shouted incredulously, bouncing back and forth energetically. "Tire me out. I need it."

"You want me to punch you in the face?!" I yelled, balling my hands into fists.

"Fight me, Way!" He yelled back, getting a little too excited.

I lunged at him and nailed him with a right hook, and he stumbled to the side. 

But with incredible time, he was re-balanced and coming at me. I didn't even have time to get away before he crashed his body into mine, causing us to fall down.

With a mix of groans, we hit the ground. I rolled over to get on top of him, but he did the same, so we rolled over each other several times to the center of the room.