Book Two : Aveline. | Slash Fanfiction

chapter eight

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EIGHT - 1992, On The Road

          "HEY, MOM," AVELINE smiled, half awkward, half genuine giddiness. Her adrenaline had yet to seize from her and Sauls earlier occupations. Her mother turned to face her, a soft smirk etched upon her wise and aged cheeks that held wrinkles gentler than her eyes. "I'm - uh - well, you see," She stuttered, struggling to find the correct way to go about this. "I'm going away for a while." She muttered, vaguely describing her year-or-so-long disappearance.

Her mother smiled kindly, nodding her head and crossing her arms over her chest, quirking a perfectly plucked eyebrow up slightly as she did so. "With that boy?" She questioned, her thick french accent running smoothly through her lightly rough and influent English.

"Uh..." Aveline trailed, blushing a deep pink, riddled with petty embarrassment. The idea was so stupid - now that she actually thought about it. "Yeah?" She said, more like an inquiry than a statement. There was no turning back now, she thought, almost holding her breath as she anticipated her mothers scolding for such irrational and idiotic ideas.

"Okay." She shrugged. Aveline stopped, frozen with motion, and glanced up with a frown on her brow, drawing them together slightly as she stuttered - once again - and fell into confused silence. Her mother scoffed at her cluelessness and rolled her eyes playfully, speaking as though her daughter should already have understood exactly why she'd responded the way she had. "He makes you happy, right?" Aveline shrugged with a short nod, the frown slipping from her expression. "Then who am I to stop you from seeing him?"

Aveline wanted to exclaim that the two were, in fact, not together, or dating at all. That actually, they were practically strangers with a few days worth of history, but instead she stated the obvious and allowed her mother to be slightly held within the dark. "My - Uh - my mother?" She was so clouded by disbelief.

"Aveline you're twenty." She scoffed again. "I'm not going to control you, am I?" She said. "You're an adult now, sweetheart, you have to make your own decisions."

"Oh." She mumbled, scratching the back of her head with uncertainty. This was an entirely opposite reaction to the one she had anticipated - though it was a fairly nice surprise, she didn't have to leave the country on bad terms with her mother.

She smiled warmly, a knowing haze to her golden eyes. "So," She continued. "How long will you be gone for?"

"A year or so?" Aveline wasn't entirely sure herself, but decided that their tour really couldn't last anything longer than that. Especially considering the fact that Paris wasn't their first stop.

If her mother was at all bothered or shocked by the large amount of time, she didn't show it, simply nodding and continuing on with the dreadful house chores her children hated so fiercely. "But I'll call whenever I can." Aveline continued, re-assuring her mothers non-existent worries. "And I promise to stay out of trouble."

Though the last statement was utter bullshit; no matter who they were with, what they were doing, who they were doing, the Guns always attracted trouble and mischief. It was riddled in their blood to cause chaos, branded to their name. And there was no possible way Aveline would be capable of surviving even only a few weeks on that bus sober and sensible.

It was just too dangerous and destructive.

~*~

For a bus, Aveline thought as she carried herself delicately up the metal steps and glanced in through the doors, it sure is clean. Not a scratch or smear lay upon the small kitchen cabinets or worktops, the pillows upon the couches fluffed and neatly positioned, the bunkers correctly made and set out perfectly. It was so controversial compared to how she perceived the band, that the cleanliness screamed abnormality. The walls were a soft cream, a carpet set out - freshly hoovered from what she could detect - and a few coolers, stacked with copious bottles of booze and champagne. Though Aveline had never really pinned these gnarly rock stars for the type to indulge in a cool glass of champagne.