It's addictive.

1.

Slash pushes the needle in. It stabs and he feels his veins pulsing in an anxious stretch of a breaking point. He tries to feel, sense, relax.

Then it rushes in.

Everything is blissful; an explosion of pleasure that's creeping up his whole body in little hits. But they don't hurt. He wants this to last forever.

With a soft sigh he can feel himself sinking back to the sheets. To heaven.

Everything is sensual, a pure joy of being alive hits him with so much force, he wants to cry. But he just can't. Shielded from all wordly fears, so beautifully alive that he wants to die.

Axl slowly raises his head and their gazes meet for an eternity.

Slash just smiles for there's nothing that's important anymore.

There's just a burst of creativity, a spontaneous amount of possibilities.

Music is playing from somewhere and it's painfully pleasant. Richer, more vividly and intense; the interaction of instruments almost visible.

"Fuck..." Axl whispers and it's fading into nothingness.

Slash wants to answer, but all what comes out is another passionate sigh, as everything around him becomes white. It's not an empty shade of white – it's warm and full of promises and he finally manages to form words: "This...is heaven."

Axls face appears above him and copper turns to gold with the innocence of heavens weight.

Slash watches feathery strands of gold, that's enframing his face and he smiles as he reaches out to touch it.

"Axl..."

He just says.

"Yes?"

"You're an angel..."

Axl laughs warmly and he looks unbelievably beautiful.

Slashs fingertips brush against his cheek. "Why are you so beautiful?"

Axl laughs again and buries fingers to Slashs hair in return. It feels fuzzy and soft and he can't stop smiling as well.

"Maybe we're dead..." he suddenly says a little wide eyed. "This feels different than ever. Maybe we just died."

This time Slash laughs.

"No...no I am dead. You're an angel."

Axl lays on his back again, because he doesn't care if he's dead, when he feels more alive than ever.

Slashs fingers are exploring Axls face again; they brush over his nose, eyes, lips, chin and Axl giggles, what surprises them both.

"What are you doing?"

"Just touching your face..."

Axl allows him to continue, while his face seems to burn with every touch.

It's like poetry: lovely and painful. It destroys what it creates in one single rush of guilt and satisfaction. It's strange and wild and somehow it blazes into a mind- shattering answer to every question he ever had.

"I can't feel your fingers...or maybe I feel them too much..."

"Are you afraid?"

"No."

Slashs hand stops moving and Axl turns his head. Their noses are brushing together and they smile, while they're breathing the same air.

"Where are we?" Axl whispers.