Breath

Love Songs and Lemons (Slash)

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First person POV. SMUT!

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I was furious. It was like he had cut off contact with me. His own girlfriend. What the hell was going on?

Slash was hardly ever home anymore. He spent so much time "in the studio" and with his friends that it felt like our house was just mine, despite the fact that he had paid for it. 

We'd moved here to Pasadena about two years ago. Back then he was the most doting boyfriend I had ever had, and we were deeply in love. However, when he started pulling away a few months ago, it began to seem that I was the only one invested in our relationship.

I worked at the Norton Simon Museum as their main archivist, and I took my job very seriously. Art History was my passion, so when I was offered the position, I knew I had to take it. At that point, Slash and I had been dating for just five months. I wasn't sure how he'd handle me moving, but to my surprise, he was thrilled. It was already euphoric to be starting an exciting new job and for my boyfriend to be happy for me. When he asked me if I would consider moving to Pasadena with him, I just about melted. It was perfect, and for the first time, I had real hope for my future.

We were unstoppable. He was making more music than he had since the early nineties, and I had more standing in the art community than I had ever dreamed I would. I abhorred the term "power couple", but people occasionally told us we were one. 

Despite being very dedicated to our respective careers, we found each other to be the most important things in our lives. He would have bought me anything I wanted if I asked, but his companionship was enough for me.

Which is why my confusion at his withdrawal led to hurt and eventually anger. I was a patient, cool-headed woman, but this was too much for me to bear. He was my world, and I couldn't understand why he was being so distant. Had I done something wrong? Did he have a secret? He couldn't possibly be having an affair. He wouldn't. But sometimes, when it was late at night and I'd be tossing and turning in our bed, I'd imagine him flirting with some other woman. She would be prettier and cooler than me, I was sure of it, and he'd flash her that beautiful smile. Then, my thoughts would take a darker turn. Scenes of him wrapped around some gorgeous model tormented me to no end. 

In the morning, I'd brush those traitorous notions away and try to attend to my work as normal. We were both grown adults in a committed relationship; something like that would never happen. Rocky periods were inevitable. Things would go back to normal soon.

"Hey, honey, I'm home."

My chest clenched and I tried to suppress my emotions. Taking a deep breath, I padded into the kitchen and kissed his cheek. My lips scratched against some stubble, and he pulled me closer to enfold me in his arms.

"Hi, baby girl," he murmured into my hair.

I shut my eyes and snuggled into his chest. The scent of his laundry detergent, which was a different brand from mine, was soothing. My mind automatically associated it with him.

After a minute, I drew back and looked him in the eye. "Why didn't you text to tell me you'd be coming home? I've missed you."

A pained expression formed on his face. "My phone battery died. I'm sorry."

You fought back a sigh. "It's okay. Do you want to order take-out?"

He shook his head. "I ate on the road. You should, though. That Thai place we got last time was really good."