how soon is now? || w. a rose [i/v]

AXL IX [E]

[Pictured above]

Axl Rose [right] and Andy Bernow [left] are seen landing at London Heathrow yesterday evening. The rumored couple seemed rather cozy at baggage claim, after sources at the VMA's revealed that the two lead singers seemed very close to each other before the Vince Neil incident, where Bernow was punched after an altercation with Izzy Stradlin. Neither Bernow, Rose or their joint management Geffen Records have commented, but it can't be denied that the two look very close as they enter the UK together, especially this close to the holidays.

// MTV news article, December 1989

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w. mental health issues, discussions of past suicide attempt, nsfw

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"God it's fucking freezing," Andy said, her nose a bright tinge of pink and the bright white snowflakes contrasting against her wild black hair, as she looked around for the hallway light switch.

Axl blew on his own red hands, the skin around his nails cracked from the couple minutes they'd been getting their bags out of the taxi. Heathrow airport had been very busy, from delayed flights due to poor flying conditions from the heavy winds and then the snow, so it was pitch black by the time they reached Andy's apartment block.

Axl was still shocked that nobody had recognised him when walking through baggage claim, though he had the distinct feeling that some paparazzi had probably got a picture, it was just inevitable. The last time he had gone anywhere without one of those freaks following him was early 1987. Not that he had been going on long haul flights to London before then, the first plane he had ever got on was for their first tour dates. That had been crazy, the surreal nature of the airport and the judging eyes of flight attendants when Duff had ordered his seventh drink of vodka, not just a shot.

Andy knocked her boots off, the flat black leather placed correctly on the shoe rack, it was a pale wood with her shoes neatly lined up near each other, multiple pairs of heels, both shoes and boots, but even a few different pairs of sneakers. The small table next to the rack held various small objects from multiple cat figurines and candles to the small cacti pots, and above the table was an elaborate mirror.

Axl nearly had to look away, to see his rusty limp hair and heavy purpled dark circles would be too miserable to endure, he was repulsive to look at. From the stretched out sweatshirt and the rolled over sweatpants, he looked god damn awful, like he should be signing into a fucking institution not going to his girlfriend's family in little over a week. His skin was sallow and his lips were dry and cracked like his fingers, a trainwreck he ever saw one. Maybe his body was finally catching up to what was behind his forehead, a war torn battleground, destroyed and ripped apart. He wondered when his ever loving nurse would finally leave, for her own safety.

"I'm gonna make us something to drink, there's a heater in the living room to turn on," She kissed his cheek, her lips ice cold as they lingered against his skin.

As she made her way through to the kitchen, he wandered down the hall. The walls flanked with more mirrors, cream paneling and crystalline lights, leading up a tall spiral staircase. It was a far cry from his LA apartment, not that that was insignificant either, Andy just obviously had a higher taste than he did. Now wonder she needed an accountant, this couldn't have come cheap.

From the length of the journey, constant stopping and starting through blurring traffic, making his already formed jetlag headache even worse, he knew that they must be in the center of London. From the old architecture adorning the skyline and the black iron fences locking in rich parks, even if the trees were only skeletal remains of there regular lush foliage, to the security officer asking for proof of identification before entry, it was obvious that only those with hefty cash pockets could live here.