Night Rain

January in L.A. sucked balls, there was no other way of looking at it. The rundown house the five band members shared was drafty and damp and, to make matters worse, gigs have been few and far between all winter. Duff and Slash had menial part time jobs, Axl had his job at the record store, Steven was unable to hold a job for more than a week and Izzy did what he did best, he hustled and dealt and did things none of the others really wanted to know about. Between them they managed to pay the rent with enough left over for booze and Ramen noodles, but it was fucking depressing. And it was getting to them. Tempers were short, nerves were frayed, and in spite of their best efforts even Steven and Duff, the most optimistic of them, were unable to keep up morale.

By the time Duff walked home from the bus stop after work he was wet from the fine drizzle and chilled to the bone. Axl was sprawled on the couch in front of the TV and Duff crashed in the ratty chair, tossing his damp denim jacket in a corner.

"Where is everyone?"

Axl shrugged. "Where do you think? Out getting drunk."

"All of them? Why didn't you go too?"

"Hang around with Slash and Stevie when they're drinking? No thanks!"

"You could have hung out with Izzy."

"He isn't with them, he's around someplace. Came in about an hour ago and went straight upstairs. You tryin' to get rid of me or something?"

"No, just wondering. What's on TV?"

"Some bullshit cop show. There's macaroni and cheese on the stove if you want some."

Duff stood and wandered into the tiny kitchen. What was on the stove may once have been macaroni and cheese but it was now a congealed orange glob and Duff scraped it into the garbage with a grimace. He was glad he'd grabbed some leftovers before leaving work.

"Guess I'll go take a shower," he told Axl, passing through the living room to the stairs. The redhead merely grunted a reply.

At the landing at the top of the stairs was a window looking out onto the roof and Duff cursed to himself, noticing it was open a couple of inches. He stepped up to close it, then squinted through the rain washed glass. He thought he saw someone out on the roof. It couldn't be a burglar, no one in their right mind would think anyone in that house had anything worth stealing. Curious, Duff raised the window and leaned out.

There was a dark figure there, huddled at the edge of the roof, his arms wrapped around his knees. Looking closer, Duff saw it was Izzy sitting there unmoving, though it was raining harder now than it had been when Duff came home.

"Iz? Hey, man, get inside!" The figure looked up but didn't move. "Izzy? Are you coming in?" No acknowledgment at all this time.

Duff sighed, wondering if he was too drunk or high to care if he was getting soaked to the skin. Even so, he couldn't just leave him out there to catch pneumonia. Going to the room he and Izzy shared, Duff rummaged around in the closet and came up with a faded black umbrella. If Izzy wouldn't come in, at least he should have something to keep the rain off. Duff swung his long legs out the window and crept over to the edge next to Izzy.

"Hey, what are you doing out here anyway?" He sat close enough to his friend for the umbrella to cover them both. Izzy didn't reply, he just pulled his arms tighter around his legs and laid his forehead on his knees. "Hey, are you wasted or something?"

Izzy sighed, "No. Wish I was."

Duff was puzzled at the tone of his friend's voice. Normally he was the picture of nonchalance, his midwestern drawl betraying no emotion whatsoever, but if Duff didn't know better he could have sworn the dark haired man sounded raw, his voice almost broken. Duff leaned closer, studying his face in the faint streetlight. He admired Izzy more than anyone he knew, he envied how nothing seemed to ruffle him, nothing seemed to get a rise out of him. Izzy looked up now, staring out into the night, his face wet with rain. Or was it rain? Wait a minute, was Izzy crying? No, couldn't be, Duff chastised himself. Not Izzy. The man had ice water in his veins.