Coma ➷ Izzal

Chpt.9

Axl has never believed in anyone the way he believes in Izzy, for the latter had proven to him that love was a beautiful thing. Throughout learning to walk again, recalling how to properly differentiate words, and managing to get back on track with his life, Izzy had stayed true to his promise: He wasn't ever leaving.

Although Axl had confessed feelings to Izzy through a kiss, the words remained framed against his lips, never able to hit the air between them. He had watched Izzy go on dates with a plethora of women who all rocked the same jive: money, sex, and booze. And Axl endured all of it with his lips sealed.

He couldn't ruin this friendship, not when Izzy had seen it as nothing more than an amiable infatuation.

"You should get yourself back out there, y'know?" Slash suggested on a rather dreary day while they strolled along the Sunset Strip. For the sake of his adjusting, Duff suggested the singer keep exercising so he would be fit to perform in a matter of time, and of course, Slash was stuck with enduring the tedious escapades. Axl kept a tight grip on his cane, and although it was merely extraneous, he was alleviated by the idea that it was still there— just in case.

Axl turned to face the guitarist, watching the way those voluminous clouds bounced elegantly atop his shoulders. Slash had invested his time in meeting an array of women, a hobby Axl used to embark on with him, although refrained from once his life went down the drain. And now, Axl was devoted to a man who found their relationship to be more so affectionate than romantic.

"I'm fine with sittin' on my ass all the time," he murmured, earning a scoff from the other man.

"That's not a very Axl Rose thing to say," Slash said, his voice hinting amusement, although Axl pondered the words. Since all of those obscure illusions, and basically putting his life on hold to figure out how to simply function once again, Axl's life has been bent out of line. He wasn't quite sure what was an Axl Rose thing, or what was a part of his new outlook on existence.

Axl also wasn't quite sure whether he was fond of existing. He was still caught up within the idea that there was more to life than consistently plummeting into nothing more than trouble and excitement. He wanted to explore happiness, and he wanted to explore love. But all Axl has ever learned to love was Izzy.

It was unconditional, something he hadn't foreseen. He'd spent so long believing that love couldn't possibly be what his mother and stepfather had, that it had to be something grand and beautiful. He believed it wasn't sex in filthy bathroom stalls, and excuses to steal money for a good fix; Axl believed it was more, just the way he believed that life was never just this.

And he didn't know how to tell Izzy all of this.

How could he tell the man he's been nothing more than friends with for the longest time that he doesn't just want kisses when he's panicking? How can he tell Izzy that he wants meaningful conversations throughout the witching hours of night, dates that end with them smiling joyously, sex until the horizon gleams through the blinds, and love, so much goddamn love.

Axl bit his lip, his stomach churning with thoughts that seemed just too extravagant.

"What should I be doing?" He asked Slash as they stopped outside a food truck, planting his cane onto the soft bed of grass.

Slash hummed in acknowledgment of the question as he squinted his eyes to view the menu. "Should we get tacos, or burritos?"

"Slash."

"Right-Right, sorry." Slash averted his gaze to Axl, brown eyes appearing a luminous shade of amber when enlivened beneath the sun. His irises blended well with the caramel tone of his skin, and Axl felt a pang of insecurity washing over him realizing that compared to Slash, he definitely looked like he just arrived from a lumbering retreat in Tennessee.