Message of Obsession (Duff McKagan)

13: Unapologetic

The reality of what happened hit me as I shoved my bags into the trunk of my car, slamming it shut. I looked into the car, watching Duff wrap his right arm in an ace bandage. He ripped it with his teeth, smoothing it down with his other hand. She hurt him.

I felt my throat tighten, a tear rolling down my left cheek and stinging the tender cut, which had stopped bleeding long before. Swiping another away from the opposite cheek, I took a shaky breath and opened the driver's door, rejoining him. I gripped the wheel as tight as I could without sending shooting pains through my entire arm.

"I forgot to ask you if I could even stay," I sighed. "I can always call Jo in the morning and ask-"

"No, you can stay with us." His eyes were reassuring as if nothing had happened before. It was the same old Duff. "Slash won't mind, and if he does, I'll just pound the shit out of him."

I laughed weakly, starting the car. The radio softly played a Doors song. As I pulled out onto the Strip towards his apartment, another thought entered my mind. "Did you mean what you said back there?"

"What was that?"

"Did you mean what you said? When you were holding the camera?"

His attention turned from the window to me. "That I fell in love with you tonight?"

I nodded. 

"Yeah. I did. Well, I've been in love with you for a long time, but tonight it kind of realized itself."

A knot formed in my stomach at the words long time. "How long?"

"Since I met you." He spoke matter-of-factly, without any hesitation. Just another thing in the long list of things I liked about Duff. He never hesitated when you asked him a question. 

"Really?"

"I think so, at least. I've always liked how feisty you are. How unapologetic. That stuck out to me. No girl around here ever voices her opinions, and that was the first thing I ever heard out of you. 'You know, you look like you shou-'"

"'Shouldn't be as tall as you are.'" I smiled, remembering the first time I had ever met him. We met at a Poison show I was subbing for in 1985, and that was the first thing I ever noticed when he came backstage to meet me. His height. He towered over every crowd he was put in.

"You're just different. In a good way. Everything she said back there about you..." he shook his head, "it isn't true. You are pretty, in your own ways. Your smile is too big. Your eyes are a weird shade of brown that turn gold in the sun. You have funny facial expressions. You aren't skinny, but that means you're healthy and not fucking starving yourself. Your jokes are terrible, Ivette, really, but that's why I love them. And your hair..." He trailed off, his arm reaching over with a twinge of pain to brush his fingers through it. "Never change your hair. Don't ever dare get rid of this hair."

That same damn lump formed in my throat as we reached his apartment building, and I pulled around the back, parking near the door. I looked over at him. "Promise you're being serious?"
"I promise. Why would I lie?"

I leaned over, pecking his lips before stepping out of the car. He helped me with my bags, leading me to the apartment slowly. As he unlocked the door, Slash looked up from the couch. I could barely see his eyes in the dimness of the apartment, but there he was, smoking a cigarette. "Oh, hey." He seemed to have only seen Duff's silhouette.

"She's staying with us until tour," Duff said plainly, pushing open his bedroom door. I hid my cheek the best I could with my hair, but he still must have seen it.

"Yo, wait, what the fuck's wrong with your face?" Slash stood from the couch, stopping me before I could make it to Duff's room. He came up close, finger tracing just below it. I had a mortified look on my face.

"I, um-"

"She kicked her roommate out." I felt Duff's hand lace around my forearm.

"And gave her this gnarly scar? She needs stitches, man." I cringed at the words. I wanted no part of dealing with that.

"I don't need stitches. It'll heal by itself, it's not that deep."

"Are you-"

"My mom was a nurse, man." I swiped his hand away gently. "I know, trust me. If it doesn't stop bleeding in 10 minutes, you need stitches."

He went silent.

Duff tugged slightly at my arm again, leading me inside the bedroom. "I want you to put something on your face, alright? Don't get that infected, I need that pretty face." He kissed my forehead. "I'll just tell Slash the deal, just get ready for me. You're so stressed, baby. You need sleep."

"But you-"

"I'll only be a few. Go get ready for bed, please?" He looked down at me, watching me reluctantly retreat to the bathroom in his room. I dug around in my extra bag for gauze and tape, wiping my cheek with alcohol before taping a small square of gauze to my cheek. I looked up in the mirror, trying to decide if I looked pathetic or badass with it on. Thank god Duff was letting me stay in here with him, or I'd have to face the outside world with this damn thing on.

Next was the arm, which was the same deal as Duff's, then my hand. I looked like I was about to go boxing with only my left hand when I sunk down in his bed, wearing only a tattered t-shirt I had dug out of one of his drawers. I tucked myself all the way to the right of the bed, pulling the sheets up high.

The door creaked open gently, and his boots clattered softly on the floor. I felt his weight weigh down the other side of the bed as he kicked off his boots, standing again to get changed. He returned not long after, sliding under the covers and wrapping his long arms around me. I could feel his chest rise and fall with every breath he took.

"You shouldn't lean on that shoulder."

"Well, I'd rather be in pain than not hold you."