Reverberation - Guns N Roses Fanfiction

TWELVE - the fan

September 15th, 1991

It was cold when I woke up. As I opened my eyes to the bright sunlight of mid-afternoon, I realized why.

Izzy had stolen all the blankets. I decided to just tap him on the shoulder until he roused awake.

"What?" he asked, his windpipe clogged with a deep, morning grogginess.

"Leave some for me, would you?"

He matched my position and sat up in bed, sleepiness slowing his motions. There was an endearing, childlike essence in the way that he rubbed his eyes to wake further--jet-lag must've still had a hold on him. "Some what?"

"Blankets, you idiot," I told him, motioning abruptly at my uncovered legs and his bundled ones.

"Oh, sorry," he mumbled, scratching his head.  "I guess I'm not used to sleeping in the cold like this."

I smiled, knowing that this temperature was nothing compared to January weather. "It's okay, I understand. I'm sure if you hadn't stolen the blankets, I would have."

Izzy laid back down, throwing an arm over his eyes. "So, what are our plans for the day?"

I stretched as I got out of bed. "I'm not sure, I guess I'll leave it up to you."

He nodded. "I was thinking of checking out that music store that's just over a few streets?"

-

The bell above the door jingled to announce our appearance in the store.

On the walls on either side of us hung guitar after guitar on the walls, layering themselves up to the high ceiling. The store was narrow and our path was diverged by a single row of shelves of records and instrument accessories, all the way to the back of the store. Also at the back were doors for employees and for washrooms, and several drum sets and keyboards set up.

It was late afternoon, now, and golden light entered through red and green and yellow stained glass windows high above us. We had lounged around the house before making our expedition to one of Izzy's favourite places to be, so the sun glared at us from the middle of the sky instead of at its peak.

I turned to see Izzy's reaction. His eyes were open, happy, as they scoured the room. I smiled at him, even if he wouldn't see.

"Can I help you find anything?" said a tall, light-haired man who was clearly an employee here.

Izzy's eyes trailed over to the man, and he politely declined the offer. He was ready to move past the worker, his palm on the centre of my back, when the other man let out a sound of surprise.

"Wait a second..." he said, his eyes widening. "You're not--are you..."

Izzy glanced down at me and I just shrugged at him.

"You're in Guns N Roses! You're Izzy Stradlin!"

"Yeah," Izzy rubbed his eyes, as though he were exhausted. He placed his hand on my back once more to show the employee that he was done with this interaction, and stepped around the man. "Well, it was nice to meet you."

"Wait!" the worker exclaimed. We both turned to look. "Can I have your autograph? Please?" he rolled up the sleeve of his navy polo shirt, a uniform of sorts, to reveal a tattoo. A Guns N Roses tattoo, nonetheless, which explains how he recognized Izzy so easily. "I want to get it next to this. Please, I'm a big fan."