It was one of those days. Those warm, slow days when you can never find the time to be productive.
“Can I help you?” Axl asked, his deep voice a stark contrast from his light humming.
“I don’t know, can you?” Slash questioned sarcastically in his quiet, coarse voice. Axl gave him a glare before turning back to his music.
“Yes, by giving you advice.” Slash tuned his guitar a bit before replying.
“Shoot,” said Slash, still looking at the strings of his guitar.
“Go be productive.” Slash looked up from his guitar to Axl, strumming a chord in the process.
“I am being productive,” he said. Axl looked at him incredulously.
“Slash, you’re sitting on your ass doing nothing but fucking poking your guitar and breathing,” Axl stated bluntly, watching as Slash simply shrugged his comment off and placed the guitar to the side. He stood up slowly from his comfy seat on the amp before making his way to the door. Axl followed him with his jaded eyes.
“I think we ran out of booze. I’m going to go grab some more,” Slash reached for the jacket closest to him as he turned the handle to leave. Axl gave him a glare, his eyes shadowed by his dark eyelids.
“Slash, it’s fucking 3:15, no one’s going to sell you anything,” Axl reasoned as Slash proceeded to respond with a look of indifference. The singer glanced up at Slash before returning to his music. “Besides, you don’t need to be drinking this early anyway.” Slash shook his head before putting the jacket down and taking a seat next to Axl on the worn-out green couch. He decided he didn’t need booze that badly, not if it meant having to endure another one of Axl’s infamous drug and alcohol lectures. Slash swore that if he ever had to sit through another one of those talks again he would either shoot himself or enter rehab. After staring at the floor for five minutes, Slash decided to stare at Axl, considering the red-head had a bit more color to him and actually moved every once in a while. Axl rolled his eyes as he continued to feel Slash staring at him. He put his music on his lap before turning to look at the guitarist. “If you’re really that bored you can go get your booze,” Axl said monotonously. Slash just continued to stare.
“Orange suits you,” said Slash observantly. After giving his friend a weird look, Axl looked down at his body to find that it was completely immersed in orange sunlight. It was late afternoon and the sun was just about to crawl back into the mountains, the sky a musty red-orange. Axl continued to stare at himself silently. “You want to go outside?” Slash asked as his red-headed friend looked up at him. Axl simply stared as Slash waited.
“Sure.” Getting up from the couch, the both of them headed outside with an easy casualness. As Slash opened the door, a large gust of warm air flooded into the house, accompanied by more of the dark orange sunshine. Even though the beginning of autumn had already come, the summer days had not yet departed. Everything was still very warm, despite the falling brown and red leaves. After stepping onto their sad excuse for a front lawn, Axl and Slash walked a couple of blocks down the street before settling themselves onto the hot cement sidewalk outside of a shut down liquor store. Slash leaned back, using his hands as props, while Axl crouched forward, his arms resting on his lap. The both of them watched as an Oldsmobile passed by, leaving a large trail of exhaust to hang in the dry air. Neither of the two said a word, but it was okay because Axl and Slash enjoyed the silence. It was nice to know that they didn’t need to talk to enjoy each other’s company. Everything felt very stable, and the both of them found the moment to be content. Quietly, the singer and guitarist continued to sit and stare, baking in the autumn sun as a half hour passed them leisurely by.
“Kiss me,” said Slash suddenly. Axl’s head perked up.
“What?” Axl asked, his mind still processing his friend’s words. He looked to Slash, whose gaze was set on the small building across from them.
“Kiss me,” he repeated, now turning his head to look at the stunned singer. Axl gaped at him before scoffing and stubbornly planting his gaze onto the opposite end of the street.
“You’re fucking high,” Axl concluded. Slowly but not hesitantly, Slash reached his hand out, running his fingers down the side of Axl’s cheek. The singer’s back straightened as the guitarist ran his hand down the line of his jaw, giving the singer a light case of chills. Axl tentatively turned to face Slash. His friend’s hair was frizzy and damp, while his face and body were lightly glistening from the sparkle of his sweat. Axl stared as Slash modestly licked his dry and chapped lips, making something in the singer’s body jolt. The both of them stared at each other for what felt like hours until Slash began to lean in gently and gradually. Axl watched as his friend’s face came closer, his eyes slowly fluttering closed as he too moved toward Slash. The both of them slowly, very slowly began to close the gap. It was then, as Axl’s eyes finally fell shut that he felt the touch of Slash’s lips meeting with his own. A feeling surged through Axl, making the tips of his fingers tingle. He sat still; pressing his lips against Slash’s softly while enjoying the dry and rough texture of the guitarist. They stayed like that, their lips pressed against each other for a moment or so before the both of them pulled away silently. They stared at the ground before looking up to meet each other’s gazes. Both watched themselves in each other’s eyes until Axl stood up. After dusting himself off, Axl outstretched his arm and helped his friend up, their hands intertwining somewhat shyly as Slash slowly picked himself up. Axl looked up to him happily, an elated but tired smile gracing his face.
“That wasn’t half bad,” Axl remarked, giving Slash’s hand a light squeeze. Slash returned it happily, giving his friend a small smile.
“Yeah. Just imagine the sex.” Axl’s face fell, an exasperated glare now adorning his face. He turned and started to leave with Slash following smugly behind. “Talk about being productive.”
“Slash, shut up.”