FicWad

okay, get ready! this was a really short fanfic, wow. but this is a really long chapter to round it up. hope you enjoyed!

I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. Turning over onto my side, I looked at the clock. The glowing red numbers blinked the truth back at me: 12:00 a.m. I turned over onto my back again, listening to the hands of the wall clock tick away into the silence.
He's gone... tick, tick... he's not coming home… tick, tick... how much longer... tick, tick.
With every turn of the hand, I could feel the cold coming back. My rush leaving Slash's apartment had all been for nothing. Axl hadn't even been home when I arrived. My mind was turning over and over the things that had been said this afternoon. How much had he meant?
Don't leave... tick, tick... not today... tick, tick... not tomorrow... tick, tick... not ever. I sat up abruptly, putting my head between my knees and trying to calm my spinning head and hurting heart. I had lied. He had looked me in the eyes, told me he loved me, and I had lied to him. All out of fear. I didn't love Axl. I hadn't loved Axl for over three years now. All I felt for him anymore was bitterness and terror. It was almost impossible to believe that I had once thought I would be happy with him for the rest of my life.
Sitting on the side of the bed in our dark apartment, I was trying desperately to separate truth from lies, reality from fiction. I knew I didn't love the man I was with. I could tell from how icy my heart felt whenever I was around him. But I felt cold inside around everyone these days. Hollowly, I wondered if that meant that I just didn't have any love left anymore. But that wasn't true either, I realized, looking up. There was one time and place when I didn't feel cold. There was one time and place that I felt full of heat and warmth.
Full of love.
Did he really love me too?
My heart pounded as I stared at the plaster, feeling almost shocked. It was like I had stuck my finger in a light socket. I leapt to my feet, almost at the same exact instant as the door shut in the hallway. I heard his footsteps coming down to our room, and closing my eyes for an instant, made a split-second decision.
Grabbing my bag, I stuffed in a pair of jeans and two shirts, before the door opened behind me and I had to turn around. He was scowling, and my instinct was to shrink against the wall. He stalked over to the bedside table and poured a drink before speaking.
"Where were you last night?"
My blood ran cold. He must have come home and gone back out. I said nothing, my mind racing for an excuse. Nothing occurred to me. He glowered at me.
"That was a question, Erin."
I desperately wondered what I could possibly say to appease him. There was nothing I could do, I realized, no way to avoid it, so I simply started at him.
"Goddamnit, woman, answer the fucking question!"
There it went. Now there was no doubt as to how this night would end, how I would end up.
Or was there?
Interrupting my thought was the warning of the blurred movement of his arm. I automatically flinched and ducked as the whiskey glass shattered on the wall above my head. The broken glass rained down on me, and I could feel a shard slice open my cheek. I didn't cry from the pain; I knew it would only make him angrier. Instead, I grabbed my bag off the floor from between my feet and ran out of the room as fast as my legs would carry me, reaching the front of the apartment. My heart pounded in my ears as I threw open the front door, letting the cold night air rush in.
I whirled around, hearing him behind me. Having followed me as I expected, he was staring at the bag on my shoulder, his hands covered in whiskey.
"I want you to look at me," I commanded.
His furious eyes met mine, looked at the blood on my face, and I couldn't find a trace of love or remorse inside them.
"I want you to look at me, because this is the last time you'll ever see me again."
I turned around, flying barefoot down the steps, with only one real thing in my mind.
Him.

Blood roared in my ears as I pulled into the dark driveway, not thinking twice as I rear-ended a blue sedan and threw a spray of gravel into the air. It was one in the morning. Throwing the car out of gear, I slammed the door and dashed up the stairs in what seemed like slow motion. I could almost hear the seconds flying away again.
Not today... tick, tick... not tomorrow... tick, tick... not ever.
Reaching the top, I didn't stop, didn't think, just pounded on the door and prayed he was there.
Not today... knock, knock... not tomorrow... knock, knock... not ever.
Thank God, it swung open. Dark, curly hair looked orange in the yellowish street lamp light, and heat gushed out of the doorway. He raked his hair out of his face and looked at me.
"Erin?"
Gazing at me with those eyes I loved so much so full of hurt, confusion, and love, I felt my heart break.
My throat closed up, and I couldn't speak, I could only stare. Looking past him into the apartment, I saw the bottle of Jack Daniels on the counter, a quarter empty. Next to it, a full syringe.
God.
Silently, without breaking eye contact, I stepped into the warm apartment, dropping my bag on the floor beside the door. His eyes flitted down to it before closing the door behind me, staring at the blood on my cheek. Standing behind the sofa, there couldn't have been more than five feet between us. Our eyes never looked away from each other. He was all that existed to me. My heart pounded in my ears and I took a step forward.
"I won't."
Another step.
"Not tonight."
Another step.
"Not tomorrow."
There was only a small gap between us now, and I closed it with a final step.
"Not ever," I whispered, his eyes on mine, mine locked on his.
He drew a sharp breath, and I felt his arms slowly come around me. I closed my eyes.
"I love you." In unison, as one, in perfect harmony.
Then his lips were on mine, and the world melted away. The warmth inside rushed back, and I was a starving animal, desperate for that heat, that love. There was no struggle; he gave steadily, as if assuring me he would never run out. We moved together, and he pinned me against the kitchen counter, his hand on my back, holding me tightly to him. I kissed him back as hard as I could, now drowning in a sea of heat. Waves of warmth were crashing over me, and I was ecstatically swept away in the flood after years of drought.
Without breaking the kiss, I reached behind me and dropped the heroin into the trash, hearing the glass shatter sharply on the metal bottom. Miraculously, he said nothing, didn't protest, but I felt what might have been a laugh against my mouth as he shook his head and held me tighter. Pulling away at last, he swept me up into his arms, bridal-style, and carried me over to the bed. I had a moment of doubt-surely he knew my limits for tonight? - But was put at ease when he turned out the light and just held me to him without saying a word. I closed my eyes contentedly, knowing that this time, the other side of the bed wouldn’t be empty when I woke up. But mind wouldn’t stop thinking, and my heartbeat was still racing from that kiss.
“Saul?” I whispered into the darkness.
“Mhm?” He loosened his grip, shifting to look at me in the dim light from the city window. I propped myself up on my elbows.
“What’re we going to do now?”
He pushed a lock of hair out of my face. “About Axl, you mean? I don’t know.”
I traced the outline of his necklace, gazing at him in the streetlamp light. He stroked my hair, looking out the window.
“I don’t know what we’re going to do tonight. I don’t know what we’re going to do tomorrow. I don’t know what we’re going to do for the rest of our lives.”
“Does it matter right now?” I asked.
He looked back at me, a smile on his face.
“In all honesty, if I have you right now, I could give a fuck about tomorrow, Erin.”
I smiled, laying my head on his chest. “I don’t know what we’re going to do for the rest of our lives either, Slash. But I do know that if there’s someone who’s saving me like this, I’m not leaving for a very long time.”
He held me tight in the light of the street. I could hear parties, people, yelling on the street corners.
“If we have to figure it out every night before the day comes, then that’s what we’ll do.” I told him, closing my eyes. I had never felt surer about anything than the two of us, right now.
“Yeah, that’s how I met you in the first place,” he laughed softly. “I told myself I’d make it to L.A. somehow, and I did. And now, with you, I’ll find a way to make it. No matter what it takes?”
“No matter what it takes,” I promised.
“And anyways,” he told me, drawing the shade against the jungle, “We’ll make it somehow. It’s just the rock and roll way.”