"Izzy heard muffled sounds through the thin walls of the hotel...."
Izzy heard muffled sounds through the thin walls of the hotel. A crash. A tinkle. Dull thumping. Curses.
He wanted a cigarette.
Axl should have been back by now.
He rolled onto his stomach and flipped the television on.
Izzy nodded off.
"Izzy," Axl sighed. His hands slid under the hem of Izzy's t-shirt. "What am I going to do with you, huh?"
Axl plopped a bag on the floor, and Izzy startled awake, disappointed that Axl wasn't really touching him. "Seriously, man. You're always falling asleep. What the fuck were you watching?"
Axl tossed a lumpy, crushed pack of cigarettes onto the bed. "Got your smokes."
Izzy picked up the pack and examined it. There were three left. "Is that what took so long? You had to smoke 'em?"
Axl's nose twitched. "No, man, I bummed 'em offa Duff."
"Why didn't you get 'em at that gas station down the street?"
"Duff is right next door, dude."
"And it still took you an hour."
"Shut up, dude, I got you some, didn't I? Jesus Christ."
"Come here." Axl sat on the bed, and Izzy studied the blooming bruise across his cheek. "I heard you guys."
"He didn't wanna give 'em to me."
"Why do you keep baiting him when all it does is make him kick the shit outta you?"
Axl curled up on the bed, resting his head on Izzy's thigh. "I dunno." Izzy ran his fingers through Axl's hair. "He pisses me off."
Izzy never quite understood why Axl and Duff fought like this. Duff was an easy-going guy. A nice guy. Loyal to his friends. All the shit Axl appreciated. And he had a long fuse. It just didn't add up.
"Don't worry about it, Izzy. It'll be forgotten tomorrow."
Axl was right, and he knew it. He sighed.
Izzy tried to find the words. "I think--"
"I'm sleepy, too."
"...Yeah, okay. Let's go to sleep."