An ill mouthed girl with a fiery temper and bad attitude comes across a blonde headed stranger in her bed whilst covered in something strange. His friends are just like brothers and family soon becomes a tight nation to them all as Sloan grows close...
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Slash
I wasn't entirely sure what I'd done wrong, but as we entered the familiar streets of LA, I decided it was better to stay quiet and not inquire of everyone's heated glares. My head ached pretty fucking badly, and so I nursed a bottle of Nigh Train - which for once Axl attempted to advise me out of - in trial to rid the pain. We were all extremely cramped up, hardly enough room to relax my shoulders, as Steven sprawled out in the front seat, Sloan silent and driving. The last thing I'd remembered was her with that blonde guy and myself and Duff wrecking his car and running off... the rest's a big black screen for me.
"Get out." Sloan mumbled. "Take your shit, too. Don't leave this car in a fucking mess, I already have a fuck ton of explaining to do." And we did, we took all of the cans and the bottles - the many, many bottles - and stumbled from the car without as much as a grumble of silence shared between us all, the car soon leaving dust as she hightailed it out of there.
I looked over at them all and scratched the back of my head, voice raspy and deep; extremely unusual. "What the fuck happened to me?"
"We don't fucking know, man." Duff sighed, shaking his head. "But you've been out cold since last night."
"You did smack again, didn't you?" Izzy grilled. I nodded my head unsurely, small fragments of memory began to float back. The needle, the cabinet, the girls with rocking bodies, the smack, the tub... the smack. Deadly shit. "Fuck, man." He groaned. "You only do that shit with us."
I shrugged. "I'm alive."
"Barely." Axl scoffed, the first to take himself inside the apartment. One by one they all carried themselves behind him, leaving myself and Steven awaiting outside.
"Why'd you leave, man?"
"I woulda been kicked out sooner or later." I shrugged.
"And then we'd all go with you." He mumbled, shaking his head with a slight sigh. I shrugged my shoulders, I'd already gotten utterly fucked up; I wasn't in my own mindset at the time. But either way, it didn't matter now, we needed to do some serious recording; I had a few ideas of riffs and licks I longed to try out. I mentioned it to Steven and he nodded in agreement, wandering after me through the doors and explaining the situation to the rest of the band. "Why don't we go to the studio?" It was hardly a studio. It was just a small storage room with a few handy instumunts and a microphone. "Its been a pretty fucking weird few days."
"Whatever." Duff shrugged, standing and walking with a slight hop in his stride, returning with his bass, my guitar and Stevens sticks. Izzy always had his guitar on him, there was no need to move as it rested in his lap. Axl remained seated, taking a few swigs from a bottle of cheap beer. "I'll stay here, write a few things down." He mumbled, staring off into the distance with a lost tone to his voice. Despite my slight concern, I shrugged it off and followed the rest of the guys outside.
*
We were all extremely high, laughing and messing up as we attempted to use our instruments, the dope within our heads not exactly helping the situation. The last time we'd attempted to practice Jungle, merely moments ago, I'd done it an octave higher than it was supposed to, and Steven came in too late and the whole band was thrown off. But we still tried to play, without a singer, whilst laughing and not concentrating. Myself and Izzy had come up with an introduction for a new song a few months back, when we were just getting to know each other properly, and I gotta say... the man's a very gloomy artist. But his playing is to entrancing and intricate, it just draws you in and makes you imagine what the fuck's going on up there. When we'd shown our work to Axl weeks back, he'd sat there and his smile sort of dropped. "It sounds a bit fucking mopey." He stated.
"Don't Cry." I teased, smirking, and it were as though a lightbulb had ignighted before his very eyes, suddenly roaring to life as he smiled and clicked his fingers, sitting up straight.
He spoke with a breathless tone; always one for drama. "That's it, man. We gotta work on that, it'll be a hit." I raised an eyebrow in confusion... It was only a little composure Izzy and I had come up with. "Don't Cry. It'll be all over the radio."
"I'm not gonna cry-"
"No, you idiot. It'll be the name of the song, Don't Cry." And that was the first time I'd experienced the thrill of writing an actual song. I mean, it's still not finished - or even a song - But it was a foot in the door and I loved every moment of it.
Though now, within this shitty and smelly recording studio with a stupid fucking giddy smile ripping into my face, I don't think I could get any more content. Steven was banging away on the skin of the drums and the metal of the symbols, already having snapped two of those wooden sticks, but still laughing and smiling happily. Duff and Izzy had taken a break, giggling to themselves and I attempted to focus a little harder on my left hand, moving it as quick as I could without passing out.
"Take me down to the paradise city where the grass is green and the girls are pretty." I sang, almost cringing at how totally gay it sounded. Izzy and Duff perked up, grabbing onto their instruments and playing along, matching my licks with the appropriate notes. "Take me down to the paradise city, where the girls are great and they've got big titties." I grinned at that, much better. Duff laughed and nodded his head as we continued to sing it - well, not exactly sing, more like yell into the mouldy room with irritating grins. Duff had a great punk voice, as did I, and so it sounded like we were imitating some sort of punk rock kinda music.
After getting bored and putting everything down, we sparked up a few more joints and cracked open a few more bottles, our pockets officially empty and bankrupt. "We should go on another road trip." Duff said, nodding to himself.
"Yeah!" Steven agreed, taking a seat on the floor next to me. "That would be fucking awesome."
"We don't have a car." I stated - again - and they all sort of deflated.
"Why don't we have a fucking car?" Izzy asked. "That is so fucking stupid."
"We're always drunk or drugged up, walking's fine." I shrugged. It was true, we'd all either had our licences suspended for drunk driving or just didn't bother for the fear of going inside for manslaughter. "But anyway, somethings up with Axl and Sloan... I don't think we'll even see her again." After the way she left earlier today, the chance seemed slim that she'd return, and the thought made me feel some type of way that I didn't like, so I drank a little harder and smoked a little more.
Steven smiled brightly, speaking up with a clear voice; unlike my rumbled mumbles. "Let's got to London." He stated. "You've got family there, right?"
"I haven't seen them since I was about four, Steven." I stated, shaking my head.
