Bandom One-shots book 3

Patience ! Part Thirteen !

The year is 1991, and everything feels like it's in motion.

It's been a strange year, to say the least. There's a strange sense of peace in the air lately, one I never thought I'd get used to. In a way, it feels almost normal, but that's a word I'm not sure I've ever known. Me and Izzy, we've got this little family now, this tiny person that's ours. Ember Rose. She's six months old, full of light and laughter, and I swear, sometimes it feels like she's the only thing in the world that makes sense.

The past few months have been the hardest I've ever gone through, and the happiest too. I'll never forget the first time I held her. She was so small, so fragile in my arms, her little fingers gripping onto mine like she already knew that I was never going to let her go. She's got Izzy's eyes, but there's something about the way she looks at me that makes my heart swell—like she knows she's mine. She knows she's loved.

Izzy's been the rock through all of this. I don't always know how he does it, how he stays so calm and steady when I'm a damn mess, but he does. He's always been the grounded one between us.

I wish I could say the same for Slash.

We're all sitting on the bus today, between stops—everybody trying to relax, but it's not easy when there's always something weighing on your mind. The bus is quiet, save for the occasional sound of Ember's laughter as Izzy plays with her. The sounds of life outside—people shouting and cars rushing by—seem so far away in this little bubble we've created for ourselves. But then there's Slash. Slash has been quiet today, almost too quiet.

I can tell something's off. I haven't said anything to Izzy yet, but he's noticed too.

I find Slash sitting in the back of the bus, hunched over, his guitar resting on his lap, fingers absently strumming. He's in one of those moods—the kind that comes after he's been through hell and back. He's just come off a bad breakup, the kind that cuts deep. The kind that makes you question everything, makes you look at the world through the lens of not enough. I get it. I know what it feels like when everything just falls apart, and you wonder if you'll ever put the pieces back together.

Slash has always been the kind of guy who doesn't talk much about the things that hurt him. He'll joke around, act like he's got everything under control, but when something breaks inside him, he tends to go quiet. And when Slash goes quiet, you know something's wrong.

I can hear him plucking at the strings, slow and deliberate, like he's lost in a memory. I know he's trying to work through the pain the only way he knows how—by writing.

I sit down next to him, not saying anything at first. I know better than to interrupt the silence. Slash doesn't like to be pushed, especially not when he's in one of his moods.

But then I hear it. The first line of a song, soft and raw, almost like he's testing the words to see if they fit.

"Shed a tear 'cause I'm missin' you

I'm still alright to smile

Girl, I think about you everyday now

Was a time when I wasn't sure

But you set my mind at ease

There is no doubt you're in my heart now"

I lean back, listening as the melody flows from his fingers. It's slow, deliberate, but there's something in the way he plays that makes it feel like he's talking to me, even though the words are just starting to take shape.

There's a moment of stillness between us. Neither of us says anything, but it's clear what's happening—he's pouring himself into this song. Trying to make sense of the mess. Trying to heal the part of him that's been torn apart.

I don't interrupt. I just let him play, letting the melody fill the space between us, feeling that same ache in my chest that comes with knowing exactly what he's going through. I've been there before. Hell, I'm probably still there in some ways. We all are, in our own way.

He stops playing, and I look at him. He looks up at me, a sad smile on his face. It's a small, weary thing, but I see it. I see it clearly. Slash isn't a man who lets people in easily, but he's letting me in now. We've been through too much together for him to hide anything from me.

"You know, man," he says, his voice a little rough, "I thought I was done with all that. I thought I was over her. But then I wake up in the morning, and it hits me all over again. I feel like I'm never gonna get it right."

I know exactly what he means. I don't have to say it out loud, though. Slash already knows.

"You will," I say, my voice low. "It just takes time. More time than you think sometimes, but you will."

He nods, and then he picks up the guitar again, his fingers beginning to strum those familiar chords. It's like he's finally found the way to put it all together.

"Said, woman, take it slow

It'll work itself out fine

All we need is just a little patience

Said, sugar, make it slow

And we'll come together fine

All we need is just a little patience"

The lyrics hit me in a way I wasn't expecting. I'm watching him, and I can tell this isn't just some random song. It's personal. It's him trying to come to terms with the weight of what he's been through, trying to make sense of the pain in a way that's real. It's him asking himself how he can move forward when he's still holding on to something that's already gone. It's about waiting for something—waiting for the hurt to fade, for the wounds to close, for the pieces to come back together.

I lean forward, elbows on my knees, watching as he plays. We've all been through the fire, in one way or another. For me, it's always been the same—fighting to stay afloat, fighting to keep it together. But Slash? He wears it a little more openly than the rest of us. The weight of the world sits on his shoulders in ways that are hard to describe, but when he plays, it's like he's shedding a little of it with every note.

I can see the words forming, the song taking shape:

"I sit here on the stairs

'Cause I'd rather be alone

If I can't have you right now, I'll wait, dear

Sometimes, I get so tense

But I can't speed up the time

But you know, love

There's one more thing to consider"

There's something so simple about it, but it's powerful in its rawness. Slash doesn't need to say much for you to feel the weight of it all. The lyrics say everything: the confusion, the exhaustion, the longing, and that need for things to fall into place. It's the kind of song that doesn't rush. It lets the feelings simmer, lets them breathe, and lets them settle deep inside you. It's the sound of vulnerability, of not knowing what tomorrow holds but hoping you'll find a way through it.

I'm quiet as I listen. I let him finish the song, the melody carrying us both to a place where time stands still. The bus hums along in the background, the gentle rattle of the engine a distant comfort.

When he finally finishes, he leans back, exhaling like he's been holding his breath the whole time. His eyes meet mine, and I can see the faintest glimmer of relief in them. He doesn't smile—not yet—but I can tell this song has given him something. It's like he's finally starting to let the weight go, just a little bit.

"Thanks, man," he says quietly. "I needed that."

I nod, sitting back. "You're gonna be okay, Slash. Just... give yourself a little patience. You'll get there."

He doesn't say anything for a while, but I can tell he's thinking about it. Sometimes, that's all you need: time. And patience.