Mending Our Broken Hearts

Slash thought he know what love is. He thought he had been in love many times.

The first time he thought he was in love was when he was 5, when he started playing in the flower garden in his neighbor's back yard with the cute blonde girl who lived next to him. She had baby blue eyes and those magnificent golden curls that framed her face beautifully and she always wore flowery dresses and frilly socks. Her name was Allison and she made Slash feel all giddy inside.

The next time Slash thought he was in love was a little after he had turned 16 and first laid his eyes on Jackie, his school's head cheerleader. She wore skimpy little cheerleading shorts every day and always kept her long auburn hair in a high ponytail, away from her face, exposing her soft features and warm brown eyes. She was an excellent athlete and an ever better student, any boy's dream in other words, but weirdly enough she only had eyes for Slash, who she had met while tutoring him to help him pass his math class. She fell in love with the curly haired teenager and his shyness and the way he would play his guitar until they both fell asleep. And Slash thought that he had finally discovered the meaning of love, that this here is what it is, that he had achieved the greatest achievement of them all. But all that went to hell after sweet Jackie went on to college to continue her perfect image, her perfect life, her perfect dream, leaving Slash behind feeling heartbroken, with only his pet snake Clyde to console him and keep him from his misery.

Slash thought he was in love with Oli, the first guy he ever showed interest in and who helped him see that love could come in unconventional and unexpected ways. Oli was sweet and dangerous at the same time. He was four years older than Slash and played in a rock band whenever he wasn't drunk or high. He gave Slash his first cigarette (tobacco and weed included) and showed him what an incredible thing the prostate is. But after a while he got tired of dragging a kid around him -after all that was all Slash was to him, a kid, lost, looking for someone to run after- and Slash fell into depression once again, with Clyde, being the ever faithful companion he truly is, keeping him company.

Slash thought he was in love with his first wife, Renee. She was pretty and hot and helped Slash feel like he was living his rock 'n' roll lifestyle even more. She had the sex appeal that fit right in with Slash's lustful wishes and was a pretty little thing to keep around. She made him feel less lonely when he came down from his highs (both from the drugs and the performances) and made him look more put together in the eyes of the judging world around him.

Slash knew he wasn't in love with his second wife, Perla. Sure he loved her but he wasn't in love with her. She was hot -Slash couldn't really call her pretty- and helped him from falling apart. She was so much like himself that she knew exactly when to leave him alone and when to come pick him up from his ever growing depression. He wasn't in love with her, had never been, but he would forever be grateful to her, for saving him when he couldn't save himself and for giving him the most precious thing in his life, his two beautiful sons.

And now after all this years, after many failed relationships and even more hook ups and so many times of falsely thinking he was in love, Slash felt more alone than ever. He knew now what it meant to be in love. But he didn't then and he had let his only opportunity to finally be with someone who he truly loved go away. He hadn't known what love really felt like, he couldn't recognize the signs, so he ignored them until he found someone else to fill the void.

He believed that to be in love was to be constantly happy at the presence of the other, to feel bright and pleasant inside and carefree and light hearted. And yes these are all parts of being in love. But so is feeling content just because the other is near you, not necessarily interacting with you, but simply being there. So is being absolutely, out of your mind mad at the other because they refuse to admit they're wrong and won't even talk to you until you play them a carefully written song as a peace offering. So is automatically blushing when your eyes meet or immediately breaking into a warm smile when you catch them looking at you behind long lashes. So is arguing until the wee hours of the morning until you've both forgotten what you're even fighting about. So is feeling like you're gonna explode if you don't have them, but at the same time suffering in silence because it's doesn't matter so long as they are happy.

Slash thought he knew but in reality he had no idea. And now, as he stares into the darkness of his living room late at night, with the fireplace crackling faintly in the background, hot tears pouring down his face and falling into his worn out Guns n Roses shirt that still, magically after all these years smells like him, he figures it's too late.

He can't go back in time and it's too late to heal ugly scars and mend broken hearts. It's too late and he doesn't think he can handle this for much more, when he won't even look at him, wont acknowledge his presence, won't speak about him or to him. It hurts too much and he wonders how he could have been so blind and so stupid to ignore what was right in front of him, begging him to extend his arm and just take it and keep it close to his heart forever.

But suddenly the doorbell rings and Slash has to wipe the tears from his face, as he gets up to answer the door, praying to God he doesn't look as awful as he feels. He opens the door, not bothering to turn on any kind of light and before he can even catch a glimpse of who is on the other side he's pulled into a bone crashing hug.

And suddenly the tears are all back because it's him. After all these years he's here at his door. He doesn't know why he's here but it doesn't matter, they'll have time for words later, the only thing that matters is that's he's in his arms again after all these years, after countless nights of pain and sorrow and utter misery.

And it's all different, they've both gained weight and their arms can't close around each other the way they used to and his arms have to reach higher to find what used to be almost waist long locks of hair but are now barely shoulder length thinner strands and their skin is no longer taut but rather hangs looser on their arms.

But at the same time, it's all the same because it's him and he still smells the same -full of leather and cigarettes with a mix of their shared cologne and something so undeniably sweet like vanilla.  

And when he takes a small step back, finally allowing himself to calm down a bit and take a big breath, he's greeted with the same green eyes that for years asked him, begged him to see and grasp what was right in front of him.

"Axl" he breathed out, barely a whisper the first time.

"Axl" he said again, this time a little louder gaining some confidence in his voice.

And so he repeated his love's name countless time, until he was shouting it out in ecstasy, partly to convince himself that he really was here standing in front of him and partly to tell the whole world that yes, he knew what it meant to be in love.

Because Slash knew that this was the only time he was ever in love, the only time he had ever been, even if he was too scared and too idiotic to admit it the first time around. But now he had grown, he had matured and he couldn't stand being in this misery anymore. He was in love and he knew it and this time he wasn't going to waste it or ruin it or let it get away from him like he had bitterly done before.

"Axl" he said one last time.

"Slash" Axl replied with a content smile, his own tears finally drying down on his face, as he inched closer to Slash, closing the gap between them and kissing him for the first time ever.

And Slash knew. This was it. This is exactly where he was supposed to be, with exactly whom he was supposed to be with.

-fin.