Consequences

9. friendly dialogue

Axl and I have our feet solidly planted on the cold cement of his balcony. He's leaning against the railing while I sit on the orange cafe style chair, having gone through a few minutes of protesting against his allegations that he indeed wants me to have a seat. We both hold a steaming hot cup of coffee in our hands as we watch the city roaring beneath us, clearly having been awake for hours (if not all night).

My head is spinning less now, my hangover seeming to finally slow down and surrendering itself to whichever evil force it can find within me. The shower I took ten minutes ago did wonders for my body and mind, and I feel my heart absorbing a certain lightness; a feeling I haven't felt in far too many years.

Axl stands about a foot from me, a focused look on his face as he glances from building to building, almost as if this view is a completely new experience to him. The jacket he has slung over his shoulders allows me to see ink trailing up his arms, colorful drawings eventually disappearing under the rolled up sleeves. A silver chained necklace with a cross at the end of it rests on his chest. His long hair hangs loosely around his face, jawline looking sharper than glass as he unconsciously clenches it. His forest green eyes, prominent cheekbones and full lips are the icing on top of the cake; he's definitely a handsome guy.

"I like your tattoos," I blurt, quickly bringing the cup of coffee to my lips to avoid any potential awkwardness.

He turns to look at me, a sweet smile on his face which fortunately only holds genuine appreciation. "Thank you," he says, dropping his gaze to his inked arms momentarily before returning his eyes to me. "Do you have any?"

"Yeah, but only a few," I reply.

Axl nods, sipping his coffee before speaking. "My family always told me not to get any. They absolutely hated the idea of tattoos," he confesses, exhaling deeply with clenched jaw once again.

"But you didn't care?" I ask, making sure to use a tone that can't be misinterpreted as scolding. I know exactly where he's coming from.

He huffs, "Hell no, I'm a grown man," he flexes his muscles, a playful smirk on his lips. "I can do what I want."

I nod in agreement, smiling at him before sipping my coffee again.

Judging by the clipped tone in his last sentence and the hard glare he directs towards the city after his small confession, it seems he has family issues as well. I wonder what kind of childhood he had. Was he constantly belittled, abused or humiliated like I was? Or did he have a perfect family which eventually caused him to become rebellious and disobey his parents?

One thing's for sure, though; as long as he minds his own business, then so will I. However, everyone's allowed to let their imagination run wild sometimes. It really seems to be the only escape when things get tough, dreaming yourself away to a different place in a parallel universe, perhaps, with different families and friends and lives. No evil, no harm, just peace.

The next hour is spent talking casually about whatever comes to our minds. My curiosity nearly eats me alive, but I manage to hold my horses and stay polite. Axl tells me about his carrier, which I vaguely recall hearing about last night at Laura's restaurant. Apparently he's the front singer in a rock band called Guns N' Roses, which finally seems to explain why I had found him so strangely familiar when I first met him.

I'm quite shocked to hear this, since he seems to be incredibly down to earth. I doubt many other celebrities would be this kind and open minded towards a complete stranger, letting them into their home and letting them borrow their clothes. At first I have a hard time believing him as he describes the band he plays in and the music they play, but the more I look at him and listen to his intellectual way of speaking, I become more and more certain that he's being honest. A fascinating glow hangs around him, tiny specks of individuality seems to be etched into his skin; a rather rare sight, but pleasing nonetheless.

"...then Duff, he plays bass guitar, he literally just had to tilt his head upwards, and then, just like that, we knew where the hell we were. I swear, Duff's like 8 feet tall," Axl finishes his story, chuckling lightly from laughing loudly the whole way through as he tries to measure with his hand how tall his friend is. I laugh along, picturing the situation perfectly except for my lack of knowledge about their actual looks and whatnot.

As I listen to Axl telling me story after story about his life as a musician, I find myself feeling more and more comfortable around him. Granted, he has been immensely nice to me and done nothing to make me uncomfortable, but he is still somewhat of a stranger to me. Hopefully, someday I'll learn to be less skeptic of people.

A few cups of coffee later, I struggle to sit still. My legs begin to bounce up and down rapidly, absentmindedly picking at my destroyed fingernails while glancing at my surroundings. I finally gather enough courage to ask Axl if he would mind sitting for a bit, so I can stand up. He cocks an eyebrow at me but agrees nonetheless. Every cell in my body sighs exaggeratedly at the sensation of finally standing up as I lean against the railing the same way Axl did, only my feet can't stop themselves from finding another way to bounce or tap against the cement of the balcony.

"Jesus Christ, you remind me of Steven," he comments from beside me, a deep chuckle rumbling from within his chest.

I furrow my brows, looking at him with confusion written all over my face. "Who?"

"Steven, he plays drums," he explains, lips pulling into a smile. "He can never sit still, always jumping around and slamming his drumsticks against literally any surface he sees."

"He sounds like my kind of person," I laugh.

Axl stands abruptly, crossing the small space to stand next to me. He leans against the railing the way he did mere seconds ago, an unreadable expression on his face. My breath hitches in my throat at the sudden proximity, and I involuntarily move a few inches away from him.

"What exactly is your kind of person, Dakota?" he asks, a smirk playing on his lips as his long hair falls over his shoulder and blows slightly in the wind.

"Wha-what do you mean?" I ask shakily, unable to control the nerves setting in.

"What do you look for in a guy?"

I gulp audibly, not knowing how to answer his question. His eyes burn into the side of my skull as I try to avoid his gaze, knowing it would be too intense for me to handle at this moment. As much as I despise myself for admitting it, I do feel incredibly vulnerable right now. Being the target of his attention is both thrilling and awkward, but most of all baffling. I don't think I quite understand the purpose of asking me such a question.

"I don't really know," I manage to say as steadily as possible, daring to look at him. I'm surprised to see him staring at me in a different way than seconds ago. His forest green eyes have returned to their normal bright color, and they seem to hold some sort of... intrigued emotion, perhaps? His eyes roam my face, taking in every little detail and flaw before landing on my own again.

He smiles a warm smile at me before reaching an arm up to rest around my shoulders, squeezing lightly. "You'll find out someday," he assures me.

My mind is still reeling when he withdraws from my side and takes a seat on the orange chair again. A puzzled expression must have settled across my face, because Axl clears his throat from his current position on the chair, making me snap my head in his direction.

"Are you alright?"

I nod, pulling my bottom lip into my mouth and pushing some stray hair out of my face. "Yeah, I'm good."

"Do you wanna go for a walk?"

This guy sure knows how to ask random questions, but I can't deny that I find it exciting. The sun has finally begun to set in the horizon, a beautiful orange color mixing with the bright blue of the sky as it seems to be cut in half by the earth. A pang of giddiness strikes through me as I am once again reminded of my location at the moment. I'm in LA, and I'm going to enjoy it while it lasts.

I turn towards Axl again, smiling widely. "Sure."