Categories > Celebrities > Guns n' Roses
Through The Eye of the Beholder
Rob Halford is in love with the only guy who will never look twice at him.
?Blocked
Rob Halford gazed across the crowded bar. Usually, he refused to come to the Whiskey A-Go Go, but tonight was a special night, and he wouldn't waste it.
How many others were here who had heard the news?
He ordered a drink: wine, even if he was off alcohol. He needed the brief courage it would give him to get through with this deed. He needed to feel ready.
And he wasn't.
He drank the wine straight down, then sauntered across the bar to the dark shape in the corner. Long scarlet hair, killer blue eyes, skin the color of clotted cream. He bit his lower lip until it almost bled, then sat in the booth across from his crush. Those icy eyes were almost melting him.
"How many people know?" he asked.
"Just about everyone." The person replied, tilting his head curiously. Those huge eyes took in Rob as a whole, making him break out in goosebumps all over. God, this chap was beautiful. Long legs, perfect face, body to die for. Rob just had to have him.
"How many are still talking to you?"
"Well," the person replied, glancing into his drink. "Izzy. And that's pretty much it. Everyone else calls me a faggot and runs for their lives."
Rob winced. He hadn't had to deal with that problem. Sure, some people had said some horrible things, but he hadn't lost any friends or any sleep since coming out. People had accepted him, and he'd seen the Priest fans wear gay pride t-shirts for him. No big deal. But this guy . . . the shit he'd had to put up with. Rob had watched some Hell's Angel-looking guys come over and fuck with him, calling him a faggot and a pretty boy and all sorts of shit that wouldn't have mattered normally. Hell, the glam boys had had to deal with it since the first time they touched on a little eyeliner. But for this boy, he was gay, and every hurtful thing anyone said rang true in the end.
"Well, I'm talking to you," Rob said, reaching across the table for the guy's hand. His crush studied him for a moment with those sweet sky-colored gems.
"Yeah, I guess you are. So what do you want?"
"Well, I was just wondering if you'd like to go out some time," Rob said nervously, a hot blush covering his face.
The crush smiled, took a pen out of his pocket, and scrawled something on Rob's hand. "I'm gonna get out of here for the night. But call me, okay?"
Rob nodded quickly, watching the tall gent stand and walk away, flipping off the bartender when he said something. Then he glanced down at his hand, afraid of what he might see.
Axl Rose. 245-5755.
How many others were here who had heard the news?
He ordered a drink: wine, even if he was off alcohol. He needed the brief courage it would give him to get through with this deed. He needed to feel ready.
And he wasn't.
He drank the wine straight down, then sauntered across the bar to the dark shape in the corner. Long scarlet hair, killer blue eyes, skin the color of clotted cream. He bit his lower lip until it almost bled, then sat in the booth across from his crush. Those icy eyes were almost melting him.
"How many people know?" he asked.
"Just about everyone." The person replied, tilting his head curiously. Those huge eyes took in Rob as a whole, making him break out in goosebumps all over. God, this chap was beautiful. Long legs, perfect face, body to die for. Rob just had to have him.
"How many are still talking to you?"
"Well," the person replied, glancing into his drink. "Izzy. And that's pretty much it. Everyone else calls me a faggot and runs for their lives."
Rob winced. He hadn't had to deal with that problem. Sure, some people had said some horrible things, but he hadn't lost any friends or any sleep since coming out. People had accepted him, and he'd seen the Priest fans wear gay pride t-shirts for him. No big deal. But this guy . . . the shit he'd had to put up with. Rob had watched some Hell's Angel-looking guys come over and fuck with him, calling him a faggot and a pretty boy and all sorts of shit that wouldn't have mattered normally. Hell, the glam boys had had to deal with it since the first time they touched on a little eyeliner. But for this boy, he was gay, and every hurtful thing anyone said rang true in the end.
"Well, I'm talking to you," Rob said, reaching across the table for the guy's hand. His crush studied him for a moment with those sweet sky-colored gems.
"Yeah, I guess you are. So what do you want?"
"Well, I was just wondering if you'd like to go out some time," Rob said nervously, a hot blush covering his face.
The crush smiled, took a pen out of his pocket, and scrawled something on Rob's hand. "I'm gonna get out of here for the night. But call me, okay?"
Rob nodded quickly, watching the tall gent stand and walk away, flipping off the bartender when he said something. Then he glanced down at his hand, afraid of what he might see.
Axl Rose. 245-5755.
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