14 years - Axl Rose x OC

40

Hehe 😜

---June 7th, 1991

Guns N' Roses had finished recording what would now be known as Use Your Illusion one and two just last week. Doug and the management team weren't sure what would be the biggest songs off each album, but Slash had a pretty good idea which would earn their music videos and single release.

Now that he was out on tour with the band and his girlfriend in Europe, Slash lived free reign, doing what he wanted whenever and wherever, succumbing to his duties every other night, but he didn't mind.

It was a travel day, on their way from Amsterdam to London. The 'Silent Cherries' were back as their opening act now that the Ritz show was done, and Slash and Della had been spending extra amounts of time together. It was like the woman had attached herself to Slash at the hip.

He didn't understand it, after all they'd been through.

He had cheated on her more times than he could count on his fingers–Della had caught him in the act one time! And yet she still loved him, whatever that meant. Slash didn't think it was real love, but he was always too intoxicated to care, only wanting a warm bedmate. No, Slash thought this new version of Della was less in love and more reliant. It was like she couldn't live, couldn't function, without having someone there with her.

It was understandable to be a bit clingy, but it was as if Della had lost everything else in her life except for him, that's how much she clung. Slash knew she had to have friends, Melissa, who had always been nice, Lita who was like a carbon-copy of Della. So he wasn't sure why she acted this way.

But Slash still enjoyed the company.

And now they were in England, the country of his birth. Slash was excited to be back, playing in London, for he hadn't been there since '88 on the Destruction tour.

And here he was with Della, drinking in a bar the night before a show, getting piss drunk for confidence. He had bought Della an extra sugary margarita for the upcoming occasion that she had convinced him of on the plane over here. He had been nursing a bottle of whiskey then too.

After they had both knocked their rocks off with a few glasses and bottles of alcohol, danced their hearts out in London's nightlife, they pranced the streets, searching.

Della was the first to spot a place. It was sketchy, he would give her that, but it would work. And they had to make it quick for time's sake.

-

"You may kiss your bride," the pastor said to Slash, and he pulled her in for a lengthy, sultry kiss, tying them together. She had done it on a whim, Della knew, but it was worth it.

They signed the documents and headed back to the bars, Mr and Mrs Saul Hudson. Slash in his signature leather jacket and jean pants, hair coiled and blowing in the breeze. No top hot, but his aviators added to the look. Della was cold in her pink mini dress and six-inch heels, hair down and greasy, wishing to be watched of its drugstore hair dye. Even with all the money in the world, she would always be a bit stingy.

By the next morning, they were back at the tour gigs again.

Lita was being awfully controlling, Della thought, as she strolled into warmups, eyeing the younger woman with distaste. Lita had seen her wandering eyes at the Ritz show, judging her probably, and it aggravated Della.

Jealousy, it was. But for what, she would never tell—not even the husband she gained, though she would've barely remembered the night if not for the bruises and hangover that came with the drinking.

Della knew Lita would harp on her for the excessive drinking.

She could spot the woman in the distance now, running around frantically. Controlling.

Something Della didn't like when it came to the band.

Lita spotted her, and, coming up quickly, said, "You're a little bit late, but that's fine—places people!—just get into your place so we can begin warmups. We need to be done early, Axl wanted to practice somethin' new that would take them extra long."

"Can you be a little bit more quiet, Lita, I have a bit of a headache?"

"Yeah, sure," she rolled her eyes, going back to controlling the people, moving things to and fro in front of the stage. "Maybe don't drink as much last night and your head wouldn't hurt, I wouldn't have to be yellin' at you to get to yer place!"

"Don't need to be so controlling, jeeze, Lita," Della finally spoke her mind. "Seems like that's all you seem to do lately."

"Seems like all you do lately is get drunk and get married on a whim in a foreign country."

"How do you even know about that?" Della asked.

"I hear things," Lita replied, grabbing Della's drumsticks and placing them in front of her, urging her onto stage. "Also...I don't think he's good for you anyways. I care enough about you personally that I wouldn't want you to marry a loser that would choose to cheat on you every five minutes."

"You just don't understand Lita, he loves me."

"And he loves to cheat on you–you caught him for God's sake."

"Maybe you're not so down-to-earth as you think Lita, because you've only had like two boyfriends in your life–so you wouldn't know what it's like to feel like I do. I love him, I do. And I love him enough to not care about the cheating like you would in my situation. I love him so much I can't explain it, and I know it's wrong." Della began to cry.

Oh, no, this wasn't good. She was beginning to express what couldn't be said to Lita, not out loud, not even to herself—she couldn't even mention the man's name. So she shut her mouth, looking away. For, looking into the eyes of the woman she was jealous of would just make the situation worse, make Della realize what she had just done last night.

And Della didn't like being held accountable.

"Nobody wants to work with a control freak," Della mumbled, taking her drumsticks in her hand.

"So that's what you think I am?"

"No, but you can be–big time."

"Is this just because I called you out on your stupid fucking marriage to–sorry he's my husband's friend–that idiot?"

"No, Lita, I've been feeling this way for months. Everybody thinks this. It's just you, you, you, always you. Nobody wants to work for years with that type of person."

But Lita didn't listen to her, just walking off, shaking her head. "You're bad for each other," she yelled out loud, going back to her work.

Instead of warming up like she was supposed to with the 'Silent Cherries,' Della went out, to the bar, getting drunk again, just so she could drown her thoughts–and not have to worry about the man she could not name, but of whom's lover she was jealous of.

She was totally and utterly fucked.

A/N: Short chapter, may be illegable 'cause I wrote it very quickly, but it's important for the plot line.

No chapter for tomorrow 'cause i got lots of shit to catch up on, but I'll update Wednesday!