14 years - Axl Rose x OC

49

Content warning: drugging, non-consensual, indications of SA

4015 Words

.

.

.

---May 16th, 1992, Slane, Ireland

Big bullfrogs croaked loudly, chanting offbeat sounds as each little amphibian bounced from the edge of the water, up into the air, and dove into the slimy green water, the nightly peace disrupted. Blinking little eyes rose from the water, showing just above the surface, carefully watching a car speed pass on the paved road, heading away from the little, lush pond the family of frogs inhabited.

One big, buff bullfrog leaped out of the water, streaks of dripping water coming onto the dirt, gliding off his green, spotted body. He leaped again, across the dirt and up onto the paved road, watching the car bound down the road, smaller now in the distance. His little froggy back burned, for light cast a bright silhouette onto the ground before him. The heat intensified, and, before his little, bouncy legs could jump back towards the dirt and leap into the water, cooling him, the wheel of a large tour bus squashed his behind, stomped his front, gradually but in one quick motion; and the wheels continued turning, spraying little green frog parts every which way on the road as the other little slimy frogs watched.

Inside the tour bus, Axl shuffled down the aisle, pulling up his jeans, zipping, and buckling. He swayed as the bus made left and right turns, merges, or just simply avoided traffic. He used his hands to steady himself on each seat as he passed the rest of the boys. Matt and Gilby were far away, in the front, using the only light on the bus; Duff sat next to a tall blonde, clinking their bottles of vodka together before he chugged it down with haste. Slash, somber, sat next to wear Axl stood, trying to make it back to his seat, while the guitarist dozed off, a makeup-caked face using her hands to brush the curls out of his eyes while he slept in her lap.

Passing the two boys, Axl found his row, his large suitcase taking up two seats, sitting down in the aisle seat opposite. The small table in front of him held his plastic glass of vodka (Duff poured it for him when they got back on the bus) and a few of his pills. He looked down at it all, seeing two small hands, long pink nails covering them and two small, metal rings on the right hand. Axl tried to get comfortable in his chair, ready for the forty five kilometer ride back to Dublin. Guns N' Roses had just played the Slane Festival.

The woman next to him, who he met at the festival and was named Bridget, leaned forward, sorting and playing with his pills, his nightly medication, into the different colors. Her feverish fingers swiped at her nose, rubbing nothing away, before taking a sip of her own glass, that of water. Axl watched her hands shake a little, pulling back her silky black hair away from her face. She turned to him, leaning back with a sigh.

In her thick, Irish accent, Bridget spoke, "You say we're 'eading back to Dublin?"

Axl nodded to her, reaching forward to grab his plastic glass, taking in her features generously. It was his fourth small glass tonight, needed to perform the festival. Bridget's oval, olive eyes stared at him, the little beauty marks above her lip twitched when she was hesitant to speak. Her full lips were open, in all their red glory, smiling as she watched him sip at his drink. Axl smirked back, slumping in his seat.

"Yeah, we head out for Prague tomorrow. Quick flight though. Wish I could stay in this 'ere country a little while longer," Axl said, now looking her directly in the eye, his cup finished. His leg bounced, for Axl couldn't sit any longer in this damn bus, so he got up from his seat. "Pour me another, I'll be right back." Axl went over to duff, sitting down opposite him and taking a cigarette from the packet on his table. Duff leaned forward, using the lighter in his pocket to light the cig for Axl.