You Could Be Mine ➷ Slaxl

Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ Fɪᴠᴇ

"Stop the car," Izzy demands, watching as my knuckles whiten with their tightened grip around the steering wheel. I shake my head, pressing harder on the gas pedal as his face flushes red with anger.

"Can you even fathom how long it took me to find you? Do you realize how long I've spent trying to cope with you just abandoning me?" I rant, my head pounding with the overwhelming extent of aggravation pivoting through me.

"Stop the goddamn car, Axl!" Izzy spat.

"Fuck you, Jeffrey!" I curse, steering off to the right and abruptly slamming down on the breaks. Izzy jerked forward, nearly hitting his head against the dashboard, yet shielding himself with his arm. "Get the fuck out!" I roared, and in spite of his instant flinch, he remained put.

"Listen to me, Axl—"

"I said get the fuck out—"

I was cut off as he lunged over the handbrake, grasping my wrists, and pinning me against the car window, instantly silencing me with his brusque movements. It was an understatement to admit that I was petrified, yet the feeling of his touch was nonetheless satiable.

"Listen to me," he repeated, his voice calmer, but his words powerful. I glared at him, trying my best to keep my expression bitter, yet failing as I shudder away from his intimidating presence. His jade eyes glower down at me, his lanky body looming over my own with inescapable dominance. His slender fingers loosen their grasp around my wrist, gently sliding up my arms and tangling themselves within my hair. Suddenly, tears prick his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Axl," he whispers, collapsing over me.

I didn't know what to do.

I hated him. I hated him so, so much.
But God, it felt good to love him.

"Why are you doing this to me, Izzy?" I murmur, but he doesn't respond, only pressing feather-like kisses along my neck as he holds onto me, not minding the fact that we were in the middle of absolutely nowhere.

"Because I love you. Because I love you so, so much."

•.•

"You won't remain this quiet the entire evening, right?"

I look up from my hands, turning to glare at Slash, who had a taunting smirk playing on his lips. His eyes were fixated on the road ahead of us— thank goodness— and his hands glided up and down the steering wheel with such unintentional grace. Needless to say, he looked stunning with the sunlight cascading upon his toned skin and enlivening the vibrant colors of his tattoos, along with the tawniness of his hair. He turned to flash me a quick grin before facing his attention back to the road.

"Well?" He awaited my response. It took everything in me to tear my gaze away from his noteworthy semblance, restricting it to the seemingly endless road ahead of us.

"Maybe. Maybe not," I muster up, and he chuckles softly, causing my stomach to sink just a little.

"Please, let it be the latter option," he pleads, and I couldn't help but simper at his desperation.

"Fine, but only because you asked so nicely," I play along, although I wasn't as much amused as I was anxious.

Memories of Izzy were clouding my head, and I couldn't help but wonder if this moment with Slash would evolve to a repeat of my past failures.

Opening up to Izzy ended in the worst. He grew to despise me, just as I sought love within him. The impractical parallelism of our feelings for one another had diverged into opposite directions, and the pride I held for myself was enough to unfold the idea that this was Izzy's fault.