Book Two : Aveline. | Slash Fanfiction

chapter twenty

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TWENTY - 1992, London.

          JUST THE THOUGHT of London left a sour taste to Saul's tongue - and it wasn't the good kind. But actually being there? That left a stain, an everlasting after taste, a scar of things he didn't want to reminisce, never mind feel all over again. It was as though every breath he breathed, every blink his eyes tiredly fell into, every movement he made brought flashbacks to his head, the dirty feeling returning to his body once again.

He felt as though he were sick, stomach twisting and turning painfully, and his head racketed with an unrelenting and unforgiving pain, eyes stinging from his lack of sleep. He clenched and unclenched his fist, the curls curtaining his eyes as they continuously welled up and dried, a few striking his cheeks before he had the chance to forcefully rid them away.

God, he missed her. And he missed her more than ever as he practically smelt her scent in his hyper-realistic dreams - nightmares, more like - and slithering through his reality. He saw her face everywhere, his side cold as he slept, his lips frozen as he drank her favorite whisky in attempt to warm them up.

Saul didn't feel like talking. To anyone, about anything.

Though instead of simply resigning to his bunker to mourn for the remaining day, he decided to continue to burden the band with his disheartening presence, earning a few concerned glances by each individual. But he paid them no notice, continuously sipping away at the expensive whisky and staring absentmindedly into the space before him, brown eyes vacant and drowsy.

Aveline glanced warily in the top hatted man's direction, throwing a questioning expression to Duff as she leaned closer toward him and inquired her thoughts quietly. "Is he okay?" She asked. Duff shrugged nonchalantly, swigging from his large, quarter full, bottle of vodka.

"I'm not sure." He said, "He'll pull through, though. He might just be havin' a bad day, man, don't sweat it." Aveline nodded halfheartedly, staring toward Saul with her brows drawn together concernedly. "Hey," Duff jolted her shoulder softly, knocking his knee with hers. "Quit worrying, he'll be okay."

She sighed and nodded again, forcing her eyes away from the painstakingly hurtful scene of a mass of half-tamed coils and silenced drinking. "I know." She said quietly. "I just worry, y'know? One minute he's laughing and smiling and dancing around... the next he looks like he's gonna kill himself." It was a blunt statement - one that rose Duff's eyebrows - but neither could deny the truth behind its meaning.

And Saul had always struggled with being wrapped in a dark frame, caught in a dangerous shade of blue.

"You're not wrong." He breathed, gulping his beverage once again, "That's why I like to keep an eye on him - if I'm not too wasted, that is." A short snicker followed his last point as Aveline smiled in false amusement, too focused on Saul's array of blues to laugh along.

Saul could feel the unwavering stare of Aveline's calculating eyes, and it cast a subtle heat to his clammy cheeks, completely submerged within his curls.  He could hear the same strippers from last night, all laughing and joking around with Axl and Izzy and Matt, their voices rising and rising in bemused humor and dirty jokes. He couldn't quite understand Aveline and Duff's conversation through the level of noise the others were making, but from the intensity of her gaze, he had no doubt it had something to do with him.

See, Saul knew he was still in love with Sloan. He presumed it was just that little bit less ever since Aveline had wandered her pretty self onto the scene, but he didn't disregard his feelings toward neither the dead girl nor the living one. It was just a shame that he was so caught up on his past love; Saul did truly believe Aveline could make him happy.