Categories > Celebrities > Guns n' Roses > First Date
213 - 566 - 699
6 reviewsSlash and Izzy are settled into Slash's room and preparing to carry on with life. Until a mysterious phone call changes their lives again...
3Exciting
He's curled up on my bed, a cat sleeping close to him. He swore up and down that he didn't like cats but he seems fairly happy to be comforted by one.
We've been at my mom's for a week now and things have improved a little. Izzy's wounds have nearly healed, the cuts not just scarring, glaringly white against his already deathly pale skin. I sit on the edge of the bed and let my fingers trace over the wounds. Izzy twitches and moans in his sleep. Bending down, I gently kiss the healing injuries, watching as a tiny smile flutters his lips. I don't care how broken he is, I'm always going to love him. Even if he never so much as touches me in a sexual way again, I'll always be here for him. If he walked out of the door and back to Bill tomorrow, I'd be waiting for him again. It would break my heart if he did it, but I'd spend every day and every night waiting for him. True love, I've discovered, means never giving up on someone, even if they do things that you think are earth-shatteringly stupid.
~~~~
I like Slash's room, really I do. It's a bit... young for my tastes but at least he's taken down the Playboy posters now. I don't mind the pictures and posters of bands but I didn't like the naked women staring down at me. I mean, yeah, I can appreciate beauty when I see it but I just felt like they were mocking me for being a wimpy gay boy who'll never fuck a woman. Looking at them, with their tits and ass on show, made me realise that I'm not /normal/. At least Slash can go back to sleeping with women. But it'll never happen to me. I like cock and ass, not tits and pussy. Maybe, if Slash dumps me because I can't get it up, I'll give it a go.
Man, that's making me feel bad now. Slash is way too mice to me. I know he wants sex, wants to make love but he keeps telling me that I have to get better. He keeps saying that he'll wait. But am I too broken now? Am I too broken to ever make love again? To ever have Slash between my legs again? I'm going to try and get better if only because I want to feel him riding me again. That's all I'll be good for if I recover. I'm damaged goods, too damaged to love again so I'll just be some living, breathing sex doll for Slash to put his cock in.
~~~~
I'm lying beside Izzy, idly stroking his hair when my mom calls. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, I slide from the bed and wander upstairs. She's standing beside the phone table, a small smile on her lips and her eyes soft. I love my mom, she's amazing. She's let me get away with murder and it was her that dressed Izzy's wounds when we first arrived. I thank her for taking him under her wing and accepting him as another extension of our already mad family.
"Saul." She hands me a piece of paper. "This guy called a while back. I didn't want to disturb you or Jeff but he says he's a friend of yours."
I look at the scrap of paper. It contains a phone number and a name that I don't even remotely recognise. I don't remember giving out my number to anyone. Well, except to Izzy but that was months ago. I look at my mother's handwriting, trying to decipher it. I can make out what looks like a V and what looks like posey.
Thanking her, I head back downstairs and gently shake Izzy awake. He sighs and rolls onto his side, eyes lazily opening. A little smile graces his lips as he sits up and leans against the wall, draping the blanket over his lap as he does. Sitting on the bed, I lean over and kiss him softly, my hand brushing the hair out of his eyes. He doesn't pull back, doesn't react like he's been electrocuted so it can only mean that he's getting a little better.
"Hey," I quietly say.
The smile lazily widens a little, his eyes fluttering open and closed as he tries to come to terms with being awake.
He brushes a handful of hair out of his eyes. "Hey."
"Look," I start. "I know you're not awake but my mom took a call." I hand him the paper. "This guy says he knows us but I don't recognise the name." I shrug. "I thought you might."
I watch as tired eyes scan my mother's messy handwriting, his brain trying to place the letters and numbers.
"It's a LA number," his voice is husky and slow with sleep. "Looks like V-something-Pose."
I shrug again. "That's what I thought. Know anyone called that?"
Izzy shakes his head, eyes still fixed on the paper. His fingers trace over the scrawled pen marks and his brow furrows.
"No. The surname is Rose. V-something-Rose." He taps a fingernail against his teeth, still trying to break my mother's code.
I rest my head on his shoulder, my eyes working alongside his still sleepy ones. My finger joins his in following the spider trail of ink.
"That," I say, "isn't a V. It's a W."
Izzy cocks his head to one side, surveying, eyes narrowed. "Hey, you're right. So it's W-something-Rose."
I turn my head and look into his dark eyes, searching for clues as to who this elusive caller is.
"Any ideas?" I ask.
He pouts a little, not really looking at me, his eyes far away as he thinks.
"W-something-Rose. W-something-Rose," Izzy repeats it over and over like a mantra, his finger still tapping against his teeth. "W-something-Rose. W-something-Rose."
I watch and listen, the repeated words obviously forming some kind of picture in his head. A picture of what this person should look like. Suddenly his eyes widen and his hand drops back to his lap as his slightly flushed skin goes back to icy white. I swallow hard and wait.
"Shit," he whispers, voice low and painful. He turns to look at me, horror and terror in his eyes.
My heart pounds in my chest and I can feel my stomach clenching.
"What?" I ask, not really sure if I want to know.
Izzy swallows and closes his eyes for a moment before starting to slowly and quietly speak.
"Bill's real name is William. His mom gave him is step-dad's surname. Bailey." He looks at me, eyes slightly glazed as he repeats the facts. "His real dad's surname is Rose. After he found out, Bill started calling himself W. Rose." He looks sick and I catch him as he sways slightly.
My eyes look down to the piece of paper that Izzy has discarded among the folds of the blanket. In my mother's terrible, scrawling writing I can just make out the words:
W. Axl Rose
213 - 566 - 699
We've been at my mom's for a week now and things have improved a little. Izzy's wounds have nearly healed, the cuts not just scarring, glaringly white against his already deathly pale skin. I sit on the edge of the bed and let my fingers trace over the wounds. Izzy twitches and moans in his sleep. Bending down, I gently kiss the healing injuries, watching as a tiny smile flutters his lips. I don't care how broken he is, I'm always going to love him. Even if he never so much as touches me in a sexual way again, I'll always be here for him. If he walked out of the door and back to Bill tomorrow, I'd be waiting for him again. It would break my heart if he did it, but I'd spend every day and every night waiting for him. True love, I've discovered, means never giving up on someone, even if they do things that you think are earth-shatteringly stupid.
~~~~
I like Slash's room, really I do. It's a bit... young for my tastes but at least he's taken down the Playboy posters now. I don't mind the pictures and posters of bands but I didn't like the naked women staring down at me. I mean, yeah, I can appreciate beauty when I see it but I just felt like they were mocking me for being a wimpy gay boy who'll never fuck a woman. Looking at them, with their tits and ass on show, made me realise that I'm not /normal/. At least Slash can go back to sleeping with women. But it'll never happen to me. I like cock and ass, not tits and pussy. Maybe, if Slash dumps me because I can't get it up, I'll give it a go.
Man, that's making me feel bad now. Slash is way too mice to me. I know he wants sex, wants to make love but he keeps telling me that I have to get better. He keeps saying that he'll wait. But am I too broken now? Am I too broken to ever make love again? To ever have Slash between my legs again? I'm going to try and get better if only because I want to feel him riding me again. That's all I'll be good for if I recover. I'm damaged goods, too damaged to love again so I'll just be some living, breathing sex doll for Slash to put his cock in.
~~~~
I'm lying beside Izzy, idly stroking his hair when my mom calls. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, I slide from the bed and wander upstairs. She's standing beside the phone table, a small smile on her lips and her eyes soft. I love my mom, she's amazing. She's let me get away with murder and it was her that dressed Izzy's wounds when we first arrived. I thank her for taking him under her wing and accepting him as another extension of our already mad family.
"Saul." She hands me a piece of paper. "This guy called a while back. I didn't want to disturb you or Jeff but he says he's a friend of yours."
I look at the scrap of paper. It contains a phone number and a name that I don't even remotely recognise. I don't remember giving out my number to anyone. Well, except to Izzy but that was months ago. I look at my mother's handwriting, trying to decipher it. I can make out what looks like a V and what looks like posey.
Thanking her, I head back downstairs and gently shake Izzy awake. He sighs and rolls onto his side, eyes lazily opening. A little smile graces his lips as he sits up and leans against the wall, draping the blanket over his lap as he does. Sitting on the bed, I lean over and kiss him softly, my hand brushing the hair out of his eyes. He doesn't pull back, doesn't react like he's been electrocuted so it can only mean that he's getting a little better.
"Hey," I quietly say.
The smile lazily widens a little, his eyes fluttering open and closed as he tries to come to terms with being awake.
He brushes a handful of hair out of his eyes. "Hey."
"Look," I start. "I know you're not awake but my mom took a call." I hand him the paper. "This guy says he knows us but I don't recognise the name." I shrug. "I thought you might."
I watch as tired eyes scan my mother's messy handwriting, his brain trying to place the letters and numbers.
"It's a LA number," his voice is husky and slow with sleep. "Looks like V-something-Pose."
I shrug again. "That's what I thought. Know anyone called that?"
Izzy shakes his head, eyes still fixed on the paper. His fingers trace over the scrawled pen marks and his brow furrows.
"No. The surname is Rose. V-something-Rose." He taps a fingernail against his teeth, still trying to break my mother's code.
I rest my head on his shoulder, my eyes working alongside his still sleepy ones. My finger joins his in following the spider trail of ink.
"That," I say, "isn't a V. It's a W."
Izzy cocks his head to one side, surveying, eyes narrowed. "Hey, you're right. So it's W-something-Rose."
I turn my head and look into his dark eyes, searching for clues as to who this elusive caller is.
"Any ideas?" I ask.
He pouts a little, not really looking at me, his eyes far away as he thinks.
"W-something-Rose. W-something-Rose," Izzy repeats it over and over like a mantra, his finger still tapping against his teeth. "W-something-Rose. W-something-Rose."
I watch and listen, the repeated words obviously forming some kind of picture in his head. A picture of what this person should look like. Suddenly his eyes widen and his hand drops back to his lap as his slightly flushed skin goes back to icy white. I swallow hard and wait.
"Shit," he whispers, voice low and painful. He turns to look at me, horror and terror in his eyes.
My heart pounds in my chest and I can feel my stomach clenching.
"What?" I ask, not really sure if I want to know.
Izzy swallows and closes his eyes for a moment before starting to slowly and quietly speak.
"Bill's real name is William. His mom gave him is step-dad's surname. Bailey." He looks at me, eyes slightly glazed as he repeats the facts. "His real dad's surname is Rose. After he found out, Bill started calling himself W. Rose." He looks sick and I catch him as he sways slightly.
My eyes look down to the piece of paper that Izzy has discarded among the folds of the blanket. In my mother's terrible, scrawling writing I can just make out the words:
W. Axl Rose
213 - 566 - 699
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