chapter thirty

1.8K 70 50
                                        

Slash

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

Slash

It was a little lonely, in my room, without the presence of Sloan's voice and the warmth of her body. But I supposed as I strummed upon the strings of the acoustic guitar, that the musical notes and wooden surface would have to suffice for her absence. Maybe I'd write her a song. Not a happy-go-lucky, sappy, love song. Just a riff or something that really reminded me of her. She'd never know, of course, but I would. That'd be fucking awesome. For me, at least.

She took the cheapest bus she could to somewhere just outside of town - I can't remember where - and mentioned something about her Gramps. I let her go on her own, purely for the fact that it seemed she needed some time alone. Maybe it was a little weird of me to have only just admitted my admiration of her every molecule and then to allow her a trip with whoever the fuck she was going to see, but I guess I didn't really care. I'd shot up so much these past few days it was extremely difficult to keep track of which conversation I'd held with who.

"Hey, Slash, man," Axl appeared in my doorway. I glanced up and stared at him with utter confusion; since when were we on speaking terms again? He tended to just... ignore you until he felt he'd gone on long enough. And then he'd create some sort of gesture to win your forgiveness. But that was just Axl, he'd always done it - according to Izzy. "We're gonna go somewhere new... maybe the Black Cow Strip or something." He stated. I raised an eyebrow, was it an offering to join or just an 'I'll see you later'?

"Okay..." Was there something I'd missed?

"You comin'?" He chuckled, smiling gracefully. He sure had a dime for a smile, I'd give the fucker that. I shrugged my shoulders nonchalantly, I knew it would end in a bad result.

"Sure." I said, placing the guitar beside me and throwing on a leather jacket and lacing up my trusty leather pants, sliding on the sneakers that weren't mine. I decided to position my top hat on today, feeling a little grand as I did so, and pushed it down so my eyes were completely shielded. They hadn't looked the best since I'd started smack again. I placed a small pouch of blow inside my pants, just inside the band of my boxers, and a condom inside my jacket pocket - there was no way I'd be turning anyone down tonight - and a few notes of whatever into my shoe - that definitely wasn't my shoe. I looked at the white tongue and as it read 'AXL' in slurred writing, I understood that, no, they weren't mine, and I'd be for sure made to take them off. But instead of thinking any better, I decided to wander from within the safety of my room, in need of a cigarette. The only issue was that Sloan had my lighter - my favourite silver one and the new one - and my fucking cigarettes. "Fuck me." I grumbled, rummaging through the cabinets in the kitchen, in search of something to fill my aching throat and it's needs. I was also particularly horny - Sloan and I didn't exactly reach the fucking stage when she got the phone all and demanded me to leave. She called me later and explained how she was leaving for a few days or some shit, but I was grabbing my fix, so the phone was in the other room and as a result I couldn't really listen all that well.

Book One: Bad Boys Make the Most Noise | Slash Where stories live. Discover now