80S ROCKSTAR IMAGINES.

the diary of duff. • DUFF MCKAGAN

   I'm down bad, man. She's perfect. She's everything I'd ever want in a woman. She's beautiful, in every sense of the word. Inside and out.

   (Y/N) fucking Rose, sister of Axl Rose. Axl would fucking kill me if I made a move on his sis, and she'd probably kill me, too. There's no way she likes me. She's way closer to Slash than to me. Hell, those two hang out every fucking day. It feels unfair, you know? I want her time.

   You know, the other day, I saw Slash wrap his arm around her while we were watching TV on the couch. She didn't move away. Yeah, the "just close friends" excuse is there, but when is that ever legit?

   It's so hard for me to think of anything else but her at this point. It's like she fucking lives in my head. Everything she does makes me want her more. When she smiles at me. . . God, it's like my heart drops into my ass. In a good way.

   I would say that we're close. But again, not as close as her and Slash are. We hang out, we laugh, we talk. But it never feels enough for me, you know? In all fairness, though, it would only feel enough if she was cuddling me or kissing me or shit like that.

   I disgust myself, in all honesty. I can't remember any time where I've been so fucking in love. It's like I can't get a grip on myself, ever. Besides, everyone knows relationships don't work out well in the rock industry. Groupies, drugs, booze. (Y/N) is a chill woman, no question about that. But, everyone has their breaking point. And, if she was the one doing all that shit, I'd reach mine, too.

   Not that the groupies would be a problem. I haven't gone near a groupie in months because of her. She's the only one I'm attracted to now, and, if I were to fuck a groupie, it would almost feel like a betrayal to her, even though we're not even fucking dating. After all, why would I waste my time with them when she's right there, the whole damn package?

   She's never gonna like me, so I need to stop wasting my time. Get over this shit. It's getting ridiculous. Since when—

   "Hey, Duff! Whoa, whatcha got there?"

   Duff lurched, his pen making an illegible scribble on the page he had been writing on. He looked at the person standing in his room, and slammed his diary closed guiltily.

   Slash raised an eyebrow at his suspicious movements. "Whatcha got there?" he repeated, smiling slyly.

   "Nothing," Duff replied simply, holding the diary to his chest.

   His face began to flush. It didn't take a genius to figure out what it was, and he could tell that Slash already knew, proven by the smirk on his face.

   Duff was unbelievably self-conscious about his diary. He knew writing in it would most definitely be seen as a dorky, lame activity, and he believed that himself. Which is why he had attempted to hide the hobby for so long, storing the sacred book where nobody had come across it until this moment.

   He had been shamefully writing in it for around three months now, telling about little anecdotes that had happened in his life. It made him feel good, despite the notion that writing in a diary was a pussy thing to do.

   But, it only felt good when only he knew about it.

   "Is that a diary?" Slash giggled, hopping over to Duff and peering down at the closed book.

   "No," said Duff slowly, holding it tighter.

   "Gimme that!" Slash's hand shot out and wrapped around the book, attempting to pull it away from Duff.

   Duff gasped with fear, trying to pull it back. "Let go!" he shouted. "Get the fuck out of here, man!"

   "Why? Are you writing down your feelings?" Slash asked mockingly, somehow managing to pry the diary from Duff's fingers.