Bandom One-shots book 3

I Was Living For You (Izzaxl)

~August 6, 1992~

Another month passed. Or at least, that's what they told me. I wouldn't know. Time doesn't make sense anymore. I'm still in this fucking hospital bed, the sterile smell of antiseptic filling my nose, the dull buzz of fluorescent lights above me making my skin crawl. Every day feels like the same. The same ache. The same emptiness. I've barely spoken to anyone, and it's not like I have much to say. I don't have the energy to pretend like things are fine, like I'm somehow going to snap out of this.

I'm a shell. I can feel it. I can feel my own bones ache from the weight of what's missing. Izzy's gone, and nothing in this fucking world feels right without him. The band's been here every day, but it's like I'm not even part of it anymore. Every time I look at them, I just feel the chasm between us.

They keep trying to make me talk, trying to make me eat. But I don't care. None of it matters. I'm too far gone, too lost in the space Izzy left behind.

I hear their voices in the hallway again, coming to check on me, but it's just background noise. Duff's voice, gruff and filled with concern. Slash's low growl. Steven's laughter, which used to make me smile, now just sounds like a distant echo. They've tried everything, every kind of encouragement, but I can't bring myself to engage. I'm numb. Just... numb.

And then one day, something changes.

The door to my room opens, and I hear footsteps—ones that are different. Slower, more deliberate. It's not just the usual gang coming in with their forced smiles and half-hearted conversations. These steps are heavier, but softer too, filled with uncertainty. And then, the world stops.

I hear it before I see him.

"Axl?" The voice is familiar, but it's softer now, filled with something I haven't heard in a long time. Hope.

I turn my head, slow, like I'm underwater, and there he is. Izzy.

My chest tightens, my breath catches in my throat. For a second, I think I'm imagining it. I want to look away. I want to pretend I'm not seeing what I'm seeing. But I can't. I can't look away.

He stands in the doorway, eyes wide, like he's afraid to move any closer. I can see the pain in his face, the guilt, the rawness. But more than anything, I see the same love he used to have for me—just a little more broken, like a mirror cracked but not shattered completely.

"Axl," he whispers again, stepping into the room slowly. The others, behind him, stand still, watching from a distance.

I don't know what to do. I feel everything in me explode. The anger. The sadness. The relief. The confusion. I want to yell at him, to ask why he left. But then... I don't know what to say. I don't know what words can fix this.

Izzy walks forward, slowly, as if he's afraid I might break if he moves too fast. And then—before I can even think—he's there, in front of me, his arms wrapping around me tight, pulling me close.

I freeze. My heart stops, my mind spirals. But then... I can't help it. I collapse into him, like I've been waiting for this moment, like my body's been waiting for him to come back.

"I'm so fucking sorry," Izzy's voice cracks against my ear. "I'm sorry I left you, Axl. I—fuck, I was so lost. I never wanted to hurt you. I just—I was... I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to deal with everything."

I close my eyes, my chest heaving, and for a second, I let myself feel the warmth of him, the way his body presses against mine. I want to push him away, but I can't. I'm so fucking relieved, so overwhelmed by his presence that I can barely think straight.

"Izzy..." My voice comes out in a rasp, and I feel something catch in my throat. "Why the fuck did you leave me?" The anger spills out, the pain—everything I've been holding in for the past few months.

Izzy pulls back a little, but only enough to look me in the eye. His face is streaked with tears, his expression a mix of regret and deep sadness. He reaches up and wipes his eyes, trying to compose himself, but his hands shake. "I didn't know how to handle it, man. Everything was just... too much. The band, the life, everything. I needed to find myself, I needed space. But I've never stopped thinking about you. I've never stopped loving you, Axl. I thought about you every damn day."

He wipes his nose, his lip trembling. "I fucked up. I fucked up so bad. I didn't want to hurt you, and I didn't know how to fix it. But I'm here now. I'm back. I swear."

The words hit me like a fucking punch. They sting, but they also heal in a way I didn't expect. A part of me—some dark part of me—wants to yell at him, to tell him how fucking angry I am. That he left me here to fall apart without him.

But then he kisses me.

It's not the kind of kiss I expected. It's desperate. It's raw. It's the kind of kiss that speaks of months of regret, months of distance and loss. His lips press against mine with the kind of urgency that makes my heart skip a beat. I can taste his tears, feel the wetness of his cheeks against mine as his arms tighten around me, pulling me closer like he's afraid I'll disappear again.

I kiss him back, not caring about the other guys standing there, not caring about anything except the way my body responds to his, the way everything inside me seems to align again. We've been through so much—so much pain, so much confusion—but this moment, this kiss, feels like the first step to something real. Something that might heal us both.

When we finally pull away, my breath is ragged, and my chest hurts in a way that almost feels good. I look at Izzy, and the world feels right again, but it also feels fragile—like we've both been broken and are still learning how to put ourselves back together.

"I've missed you," I whisper, my voice hoarse. I feel stupid saying it, but it's true. I've missed him more than I could ever admit.

Izzy smiles, tears still glistening in his eyes. "I've missed you too, Axl. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But I'm here now. I swear, I'm not going anywhere. Not again."

And for the first time in months, I allow myself to believe him. For the first time in so long, I feel like I can breathe again.

"Don't leave me again," I say, my voice almost a plea, but there's strength in it. A plea I know he won't ignore.

"I won't," he says softly, his hand running through my hair as he pulls me into him again, holding me close.

I don't know what the future holds. I don't know how we'll fix all the broken pieces of what we were and what we are now. But for the first time in a long time, I don't care.

I have him back. And maybe that's enough for now.

~I Was Living For You~