Categories > Celebrities > Guns n' Roses > First Date
Sex, Blood and Memories
4 reviewsSlash moves out of their apartment, while Izzy finally snaps.
3Moving
Surrounded by Izzy's meagre possessions, I sit and cry. He'd chosen /him/, the abuser and the rapist, over me. And I don't know why. Why choose someone like that? Why choose someone who's going to knock you around every day? Does Izzy think he deserves to be punished for his past sins?
I never even had the chance to ask if the accusations were true. And what if they were? Even if he willingly gave himself to Bill I'd still forgive him. Love is supposed to heal all...
~~~~
I lie here, hour after hour, in the suspended animation he's put me in. I stare at up at him as he holds me, my head in his lap, his fingers gently caressing my face. He smiles softly at me in the same way he did when we were kids, before bending and placing a gentle kiss to my lips. As always, his personality has done a complete one eighty.
He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not.
But does he? Or is it another con to keep me here? It's quite nice to be here, lying with him. Just like old times. He tenderly kisses me as he pets me.
"I love you Izz," he whispers. "Really I do. I don't want you to go again. Please don't leave me again Izz."
Tiredly I smile into the kiss, sighing, my arms draping around his neck. I want to be with Slash but I want to be here as well. Here, reliving my past. He may be a domineering bastard, but Bill was always a tender lover. He may have ordered me around but he always put my needs first. And somewhere, deep down, I think I still love him. Fuck...
~~~~
Hours turn into days but my heart still doesn't heal. By day, I watch for Izzy from my post behind the cash register. By night, I sit in the window, my guitar in my lap, strumming and dreaming.
Eventually the landlady is demanding the rent. I can't stay here in this hotel of heartbreak so I agree to move out. Move out and let someone who doesn't know about the pain that happened here move in. Maybe they'll make it nice. Turn it into a real little love pad. So it's back to my mom's and my basement room. At least I'll have my furry friends to keep me company during the long, lonely nights. They're not Izzy but at least they purr.
~~~~
It's the drugs talking, I'm sure it is. I look up at Bill and feel the love wane as I watch him load another syringe of junk. I only love him because he's keeping me in this warm, happy place. He smiles affectionately as he flicks the needle, his fingers tenderly rubbing my wrist. I swallow, feeling sick. I don't want this anymore, don't want the sickness and the post-drug vomiting. But I want the love and the warmth. The small kisses and tiny smiles, the soft touches and gentle sex. But that's all it: sex. Bill may say he loves me but when he ties me to the bed he's anything but loving. It's just raw and painful fucking. Somewhere, outside of this godawful prison, is Slash. I wonder if he's waiting for me. I hope not. I hope he's moved on and found someone else. I hope he's healing that beautiful heart. The one I shattered into a million pieces.
With my eyes on Bill, I watch as he carefully slides the needle under my skin, giving me another dose of the false love he's got me hooked on.
~~~~
Sorting through all of our stuff is the hardest. The little mementoes of our time together - a toy snake from Izzy, a photo of us in the park, a little drawing I did for him. It's the photo that catches me. Some guy had spotted us in the park and liked how we were so different but so alike. He'd been delighted that we were so open about our relationship, sharing gentle kisses in public. He'd dug around in his bag, pulled out a Polaroid camera and taken a picture of us, a captured moment of true, unadulterated love as he'd put it. Sighing, I slide the photo into my sketchbook.
What do I do with Izzy's stuff? His guitar is still here, propped in a corner, waiting, like me, for him to come back and run his fingers over its gentle curves. That will have to come back with me. It's a part of Izzy that neither of us will want to lose.
Every ugly, patterned shirt that I've hated and every hat I've cringed at is carefully folded and dropped into a box. The final thing I place on top of the pile of clothes is the collar. The slim, jewelled collar with the badly scratched letters. It looks worn, the leather is slightly creased, a jewel or two is missing and the metal plaque is dull. With a heavy heart, I seal the box of memories, etching Izzy's name into the cardboard with a marker pen. This is it. He's gone and now, so am I.
~~~~
My arms are tied above my head and my legs are draped over his shoulders. He pounds away, smiling down at me as he trails a hand over my stomach. The drugs are wearing off again and I feel nothing, just an aching emptiness. It has to stop, but how? I'm trussed up like a turkey with no way out. He just keeps me strapped this bed, appeasing me with his smiles and touches, trying to lull me back into loving him. I thought I did, thought I'd left Slash's love for the love of my original boy. The boy who threw away my lusty advances and replaced them softer emotions.
He comes with a shout, yelling my name. He keeps thrusting into me, his hands roughly stroking my cock until I do the same, groaning his name. It may be his name I shout but it's Slash's that I think. Bill pulls out, gently kissing me as he releases my arms. I sigh, sitting up and rubbing my wrists. I look at him, look at those green eyes smiling at me as he brushes the hair from my eyes. I weakly return his smile. It's got to stop.
"Bill," I whisper.
"Yeah?" he replies, fingers still in my hair.
I cramp my stomach, forcing the bile to rise. Leaning over the side of the bed, I vomit, hands crawling around in the dust beneath the bed frame. I know it's here somewhere. He keeps it under here for when he wants to inflict pain on people. As my stomach rolls my fingers wrap around the handle. Wiping the vomit from my lips, I sit up, the knife in my hands. His eyes go wide and he shakes his head, red hair covering his face as he trembles.
"It's got to stop Bill. Got to stop."
~~~~
Slowly I trudge back up the stairs to collect the last of the packing. There wasn't much to start with but I can't bring myself to finally close that door. Close it on such a beautiful part of my life. There's just Izzy's box left, the one remaining link I have to him. I thought we were connected deeper than mere possessions, a cord that would draw us together no matter what. Obviously not. Obviously I was just a plaything to him, someone to glue him back together before he went running back to Bill's bed.
Staring at the floor, I push the door open and turn the light back on. My eyes hunt out the box, only to rest on something else. There, in the middle of the empty room, standing beneath the bare light bulb, is a pale ghost. A pale ghost with dark hair and big eyes. I stand there for a moment, not daring to breathe or move, just staring. Is it him? Or is it just a trick of the light, an apparition? He stares back at me, eyes wide beneath the messy hair, dirty clothes hanging from his fragile frame. Licking my lips, I step forward. He doesn't move, just lets me advance. I pick up the pace, running to him and grabbing him. He's real! Fuckin' real! I slam him into the wall, winding him as I force my mouth against his. My hands grab his hair as he grapples with me, hands clinging to me as we roughly kiss. I push my tongue down his throat as he does the same to me, our hands snatching at the others body. Eventually, I pull away and glare at him.
"You fuckin' bastard!" I scream. "How could you? How could you treat me like that?"
He looks at me, shocked, as if he doesn't know what he's done and doesn't understand why I'm shouting at him. My hands dig into his shoulders, shaking him violently.
"I loved you!" I continue, my eyes welling up. "I loved you and you went back to /him/!"
Suddenly he snaps to and grabs my face. "Slash. Slash! SLASH! I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry for what I did." He sinks to the floor and I follow him, my arms wrapping around him. "He lured me back into his bed and crucified me for who I am. For being an asshole at school, for conning him into my bed. For pretending to love him." His defences fall and he begins to cry, shaking. "I did love him and I thought I did again. But I didn't. It was the drugs, he kept me drugged."
I growl, deep in my throat. "Bastard."
Izzy just sniffs, clinging to me, carrying on, "I thought maybe I'd love him again and it would all go back to how it used to be. But I couldn't. Couldn't love him as much as I loved." He looks at me, eyes wide and bloodshot. "You."
I feel the cold shards of my heart begin to melt back together as I stare into those eyes.
He swallows, still shaking. "Can you love me again?"
The last few weeks of pain disappear and I kiss him, a kiss filled with love and need, a kiss filled with forgiveness. I gently stroke his head, holding him to me.
"Izz. I never stopped loving you. I never stopped hoping that one day you'd come back to me."
His eyes drift from mine, looking around the room.
"Where were you going?" he quietly asks.
I sigh, still holding and stroking him, trying to unconsciously tell him that I forgive him.
"I was moving back to my mom's," I reply. "I couldn't stay here. without you."
He nods. "I understand. Will you let me stay?"
Gently I press my lips to his forehead. "Please. I never wanted to lose you. I might be a sucker Izz, but I don't care. I'll always love you, no matter what."
He smiles weakly at me and it's then that I notice the flecks of red peeking from beneath his t-shirt. Gently I pull the collar away from his neck and look down his chest. There's more and I carefully pull the thin fabric over his head. His chest his covered in red, dripping into his gently concave stomach and into the waistband of his jeans.
"What the fuck happened.?" I ask, voice quiet and concerned.
He looks at me, eyes filled with untold horror. He began to tremble and I listen to what he has to tell me.
"I stabbed him Slash," his voice is low and he seems to be in a trance. "I stabbed him."
"Is he." I swallow. "Dead?"
He shakes his head slowly. "I don't know. I didn't wait to find out. But I had to get away."
I wrap my arms around him, pulling him to me, as scared as he is. Either Bill's dead and gone and we're in trouble. Or Bill's alive and well and now extremely pissed off. I stay quiet, holding back my own tears as we sit, rocking, beneath the harsh light. For now, we're together again. But for how long, I don't know.
I never even had the chance to ask if the accusations were true. And what if they were? Even if he willingly gave himself to Bill I'd still forgive him. Love is supposed to heal all...
~~~~
I lie here, hour after hour, in the suspended animation he's put me in. I stare at up at him as he holds me, my head in his lap, his fingers gently caressing my face. He smiles softly at me in the same way he did when we were kids, before bending and placing a gentle kiss to my lips. As always, his personality has done a complete one eighty.
He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not.
But does he? Or is it another con to keep me here? It's quite nice to be here, lying with him. Just like old times. He tenderly kisses me as he pets me.
"I love you Izz," he whispers. "Really I do. I don't want you to go again. Please don't leave me again Izz."
Tiredly I smile into the kiss, sighing, my arms draping around his neck. I want to be with Slash but I want to be here as well. Here, reliving my past. He may be a domineering bastard, but Bill was always a tender lover. He may have ordered me around but he always put my needs first. And somewhere, deep down, I think I still love him. Fuck...
~~~~
Hours turn into days but my heart still doesn't heal. By day, I watch for Izzy from my post behind the cash register. By night, I sit in the window, my guitar in my lap, strumming and dreaming.
Eventually the landlady is demanding the rent. I can't stay here in this hotel of heartbreak so I agree to move out. Move out and let someone who doesn't know about the pain that happened here move in. Maybe they'll make it nice. Turn it into a real little love pad. So it's back to my mom's and my basement room. At least I'll have my furry friends to keep me company during the long, lonely nights. They're not Izzy but at least they purr.
~~~~
It's the drugs talking, I'm sure it is. I look up at Bill and feel the love wane as I watch him load another syringe of junk. I only love him because he's keeping me in this warm, happy place. He smiles affectionately as he flicks the needle, his fingers tenderly rubbing my wrist. I swallow, feeling sick. I don't want this anymore, don't want the sickness and the post-drug vomiting. But I want the love and the warmth. The small kisses and tiny smiles, the soft touches and gentle sex. But that's all it: sex. Bill may say he loves me but when he ties me to the bed he's anything but loving. It's just raw and painful fucking. Somewhere, outside of this godawful prison, is Slash. I wonder if he's waiting for me. I hope not. I hope he's moved on and found someone else. I hope he's healing that beautiful heart. The one I shattered into a million pieces.
With my eyes on Bill, I watch as he carefully slides the needle under my skin, giving me another dose of the false love he's got me hooked on.
~~~~
Sorting through all of our stuff is the hardest. The little mementoes of our time together - a toy snake from Izzy, a photo of us in the park, a little drawing I did for him. It's the photo that catches me. Some guy had spotted us in the park and liked how we were so different but so alike. He'd been delighted that we were so open about our relationship, sharing gentle kisses in public. He'd dug around in his bag, pulled out a Polaroid camera and taken a picture of us, a captured moment of true, unadulterated love as he'd put it. Sighing, I slide the photo into my sketchbook.
What do I do with Izzy's stuff? His guitar is still here, propped in a corner, waiting, like me, for him to come back and run his fingers over its gentle curves. That will have to come back with me. It's a part of Izzy that neither of us will want to lose.
Every ugly, patterned shirt that I've hated and every hat I've cringed at is carefully folded and dropped into a box. The final thing I place on top of the pile of clothes is the collar. The slim, jewelled collar with the badly scratched letters. It looks worn, the leather is slightly creased, a jewel or two is missing and the metal plaque is dull. With a heavy heart, I seal the box of memories, etching Izzy's name into the cardboard with a marker pen. This is it. He's gone and now, so am I.
~~~~
My arms are tied above my head and my legs are draped over his shoulders. He pounds away, smiling down at me as he trails a hand over my stomach. The drugs are wearing off again and I feel nothing, just an aching emptiness. It has to stop, but how? I'm trussed up like a turkey with no way out. He just keeps me strapped this bed, appeasing me with his smiles and touches, trying to lull me back into loving him. I thought I did, thought I'd left Slash's love for the love of my original boy. The boy who threw away my lusty advances and replaced them softer emotions.
He comes with a shout, yelling my name. He keeps thrusting into me, his hands roughly stroking my cock until I do the same, groaning his name. It may be his name I shout but it's Slash's that I think. Bill pulls out, gently kissing me as he releases my arms. I sigh, sitting up and rubbing my wrists. I look at him, look at those green eyes smiling at me as he brushes the hair from my eyes. I weakly return his smile. It's got to stop.
"Bill," I whisper.
"Yeah?" he replies, fingers still in my hair.
I cramp my stomach, forcing the bile to rise. Leaning over the side of the bed, I vomit, hands crawling around in the dust beneath the bed frame. I know it's here somewhere. He keeps it under here for when he wants to inflict pain on people. As my stomach rolls my fingers wrap around the handle. Wiping the vomit from my lips, I sit up, the knife in my hands. His eyes go wide and he shakes his head, red hair covering his face as he trembles.
"It's got to stop Bill. Got to stop."
~~~~
Slowly I trudge back up the stairs to collect the last of the packing. There wasn't much to start with but I can't bring myself to finally close that door. Close it on such a beautiful part of my life. There's just Izzy's box left, the one remaining link I have to him. I thought we were connected deeper than mere possessions, a cord that would draw us together no matter what. Obviously not. Obviously I was just a plaything to him, someone to glue him back together before he went running back to Bill's bed.
Staring at the floor, I push the door open and turn the light back on. My eyes hunt out the box, only to rest on something else. There, in the middle of the empty room, standing beneath the bare light bulb, is a pale ghost. A pale ghost with dark hair and big eyes. I stand there for a moment, not daring to breathe or move, just staring. Is it him? Or is it just a trick of the light, an apparition? He stares back at me, eyes wide beneath the messy hair, dirty clothes hanging from his fragile frame. Licking my lips, I step forward. He doesn't move, just lets me advance. I pick up the pace, running to him and grabbing him. He's real! Fuckin' real! I slam him into the wall, winding him as I force my mouth against his. My hands grab his hair as he grapples with me, hands clinging to me as we roughly kiss. I push my tongue down his throat as he does the same to me, our hands snatching at the others body. Eventually, I pull away and glare at him.
"You fuckin' bastard!" I scream. "How could you? How could you treat me like that?"
He looks at me, shocked, as if he doesn't know what he's done and doesn't understand why I'm shouting at him. My hands dig into his shoulders, shaking him violently.
"I loved you!" I continue, my eyes welling up. "I loved you and you went back to /him/!"
Suddenly he snaps to and grabs my face. "Slash. Slash! SLASH! I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry for what I did." He sinks to the floor and I follow him, my arms wrapping around him. "He lured me back into his bed and crucified me for who I am. For being an asshole at school, for conning him into my bed. For pretending to love him." His defences fall and he begins to cry, shaking. "I did love him and I thought I did again. But I didn't. It was the drugs, he kept me drugged."
I growl, deep in my throat. "Bastard."
Izzy just sniffs, clinging to me, carrying on, "I thought maybe I'd love him again and it would all go back to how it used to be. But I couldn't. Couldn't love him as much as I loved." He looks at me, eyes wide and bloodshot. "You."
I feel the cold shards of my heart begin to melt back together as I stare into those eyes.
He swallows, still shaking. "Can you love me again?"
The last few weeks of pain disappear and I kiss him, a kiss filled with love and need, a kiss filled with forgiveness. I gently stroke his head, holding him to me.
"Izz. I never stopped loving you. I never stopped hoping that one day you'd come back to me."
His eyes drift from mine, looking around the room.
"Where were you going?" he quietly asks.
I sigh, still holding and stroking him, trying to unconsciously tell him that I forgive him.
"I was moving back to my mom's," I reply. "I couldn't stay here. without you."
He nods. "I understand. Will you let me stay?"
Gently I press my lips to his forehead. "Please. I never wanted to lose you. I might be a sucker Izz, but I don't care. I'll always love you, no matter what."
He smiles weakly at me and it's then that I notice the flecks of red peeking from beneath his t-shirt. Gently I pull the collar away from his neck and look down his chest. There's more and I carefully pull the thin fabric over his head. His chest his covered in red, dripping into his gently concave stomach and into the waistband of his jeans.
"What the fuck happened.?" I ask, voice quiet and concerned.
He looks at me, eyes filled with untold horror. He began to tremble and I listen to what he has to tell me.
"I stabbed him Slash," his voice is low and he seems to be in a trance. "I stabbed him."
"Is he." I swallow. "Dead?"
He shakes his head slowly. "I don't know. I didn't wait to find out. But I had to get away."
I wrap my arms around him, pulling him to me, as scared as he is. Either Bill's dead and gone and we're in trouble. Or Bill's alive and well and now extremely pissed off. I stay quiet, holding back my own tears as we sit, rocking, beneath the harsh light. For now, we're together again. But for how long, I don't know.
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