Sweet Agony (Slaxl)

XI

Axl's POV:

I was lying there in bed, watching the doctors try to poke me with a needle. I was squirming away from them, too. I must've been crying out in my sleep or something, for they all seemed very concerned.

Yet I wouldn't stop calling out for him, even lucid. "Slash! Slash!" I shouted, hoping that he would save me from these horrible people. "Slash, they're gonna hurt me!" It was ridiculous, why would he show up? They'd ban him from ever seeing me again, and then he'd be even worse off.

Despite any of that, the door to my room banged open. Wearing nothing but a jacket, exposing the fact that he'd been shooting up before he arrived, was Slash. He rushed over to me, shielding me from the doctors. "Don't hurt him!" He scolded them. "Whatever you're doing, stop that."

"He's in a state of shock. We must get him to relax before he becomes a danger to himself," one of the doctors explained. Slash looked back at me, stroking my tear-stained cheek with his finger. His hands were trembling, whole body on full alert.

"He'll be alright. Just stop freaking him out." His face twisted in anger, the gentle man who I'd seen just seconds ago disappearing. "And why the fuck would you care if he's a threat to himself?! He's just another file here to you, you don't care about him!" He was shouting at the doctors, livid. I didn't blame him, but I'd never seen him so defensive over me.

"I told you so," I muttered. I'd forseen this years ago. I knew doctors and therapists didn't really care about you. Really, how could they?

Seeing the Slash wasn't moving away from my bedside however, the doctors finally cleared out the room. "I'm getting you outta here," the guitarist declared. "I don't care if they lock me up forever for it."

"Don't be ridiculous," I scolded him, "I can't leave. They've got the whole damn place on lock down for me." But he grabbed my arm anyways, pulling me towards the window. "You're asking me to jump?" I raised an eyebrow, noticing the metal bars blocking an escape like that. I wanted to smirk, he was asking me to hurt myself.

"No, I'm asking you to move away." He made a gesture, pointing towards the back wall. "They're going to try and stop me, run out the door. Use the back one to get out and don't stop running til you get to the intersection five blocks away." I was still processing his instructions when he suddenly slammed his whole body against the metal bars, shaking the room. He did it several more times before security came into the room, and that's when I bolted. I got through the hallways, I got down to the main floor. I was out of here, I was out of here, I was out of here.

Like I'd been told, I took the back door out, racing through the backyard of the building.  I'd been on the run from police officers many times before, so scaling the chain-link fence that was around the building was of no chore. Once I was away from that, I kept running down the sidewalk. My legs were beginning to ache, but I loved the pain. I couldn't believe that Slash had done this for me. 

I was five blocks away, right at the intersection that Slash told me to wait at. I put my hands on my knees, bending over while I struggled to catch my breath. It occurred to me that I was still in the very obvious white robe from the hospital, and I could feel the wind rustling the skirt, blowing up my legs. It gave me a little bit of a chill, so I held my arms closer to my body. 

Slash showed up an hour later, and I was leaning against the sign of the intersection, half asleep. "I'm glad you stayed," He told me. 

I looked up at him. He looked disgruntled, his jacket missing and his hair a little roughed up. "Where else could I go?"

"Let's go back to my place. I'll get you some clothes and something to eat or drink." He reached out his hand, giving me a way to stand back up again. I took it, stumbling to my feet. 

"How do you sound so sober when you're high outta your mind?" I wondered allowed, looking at him while we started walking. 

"It's a skill I picked up when my mother told me not to do drugs," He shrugged. "You get good at lying when you have to." He put his arm over my shoulder, holding me close to him. Even though I was safe with him now, I could still feel the anxiety he had practically radiating off of him, dripping through his sweat, its sickening scent heavy on his breath. "I'm glad they didn't hurt you."

"It's only thanks to you," I told him. "Why did you do this for me?"

"I'd do anything for you," He replied honestly. "You're my best friend." 

"You're a filthy liar," I scolded him. "You and I both know that that's not how you see me."

"You and I both know that you're not gay," He reminded me. "How could I see you any other way?" His frustration was obvious, adding an edge to his voice. I felt badly for him. 

"For you, Slash?" I started. "I could be." How's that for shocking truth? It only took a mental hospital for me to see that I really could have a little bit of a thing for the guitarist as well. Honestly, I think he should be overjoyed to hear that news. 

"Don't tease me," he scolded. The night air nipped at my skin, making me walk closer to Slash. Our hips bumped each other, and I felt him tense up a little bit. 

I pretended to be hurt, gasping dramatically. "Me? Tease you? I'd never dream of it!" I said sarcastically. "Duff's gonna be mad at us," I told him. 

"I'll take the heat," He assured me. "Just as long as you're with me, everything's gonna be okay."