Work Text:
The sight of his house is a welcome one, Slash thinks in relief, as he pulls up to the driveway and turns off the engine. The low purring quiets down and the lights shut off, leaving Slash in darkness. He sits there for a moment, letting all the tension in his body ease out with his breaths. A groan escapes his mouth when his neck lets out a loud pop. An entire day sitting behind the grocery store cash register isn’t really doing his body any favors, he’s found.
Slash gets out of the car, pulling his bag over his shoulder and locking the doors after him. It’s already dark outside and it’s only 7 PM. He frowns at the sky, at the very least there should be some stars up there to make up for the depressing atmosphere. Fuckin’ fall, at least give him some snow or something.
The yellow light coming from the large windows break the bleakness the dark brings, and Slash finds himself following it almost unconsciously. The thought of finally coming home, of being able to get rid of the forced customer service voice he sucks at doing anyway makes the last of the stress melt away. He’s basically eaten nothing but bananas and sandwiches all day, and his stomach grumbles when he thinks of the homemade food his grandmother has probably cooked up.
The door still creaks when it opens. Slash was supposed to oil it weeks ago, but it always kept escaping his mind. To be fair, he’s had a lot on his plate, it seems like every time he thinks about finally getting to work on the door, Axl is tugging his arm and involving him in some shit. He’s never really been able to say ‘no’ to the ginger, a fault that’s led him in some trouble in the past.
“I’m home!” he calls out and pushes the door close behind him with his foot. He drops his keys in the bowl and shrugs his jacket off. He hears Ola Sr. reply something from the kitchen. “What?”
“Dinner is ready, honey!”
“Okay. I’ll get Axl.”
Slash goes down the creaky stairs to his room, where he guesses Axl is. He doesn’t ever really leave; he doesn’t have a job and likes to keep to himself. Slash prefers it that way, honestly. After the couch incident, as Slash calls it in his head, it’s probably better Axl doesn’t wander around rest of the house anymore. Slash still hasn’t been able to convince Axl to apologize to Ola Sr. for telling her to fuck off, but he stopped trying after Axl jumped out a moving car. He doesn’t really want to recreate that scene again.
“Axl?” Slash quietly asks as he sticks his head inside his room. The room is dark, so Slash has to wait for his eyes to adjust before he can start making out actual shapes. He’d turn on the lights, but he’s pretty sure Axl is sleeping, so he just fumbles along the wall to reach his bed.
Sure enough, there’s a human-sized lump under the covers. Axl has a mattress set up on the floor, but more often than not Slash comes home to an occupied bed. Duff says it’s a bit weird, but Slash doesn’t think so. Axl is his friend and they’re close, obviously they can borrow each other’s beds.
“Axl?” he says again, raising his voice a little. Axl is a pretty light sleeper, but sometimes he gets tired and has trouble waking up. Slash has witnessed him not get up for days on end, only dragging himself to the bathroom and back. He’s come to accept it as another one of Axl’s quirks.
It seems that today’s not one of those days. The lump starts shifting and soon a head peeks out. Slash turns on the lamp on his nightstand now that Axl seems to be awake. He looks at the man burrowed in his blankets, tired eyes squinting up at him in the sudden light. Slash snorts.
“Your hair is a mess”, he reaches over to ruffle the other’s bedhead. Axl smacks his hand away.
“Well, it is now”, he grumbles and pats his hair down.
Slash bends down and picks up a pair of what he thinks are Axl’s jeans, throwing them at him. “Get dressed. Dinner’s ready.”
Axl makes a face as he grabs the jeans but pushes the covers off anyway. It’s crazy, Slash thinks, how innocent Axl looks like, sitting on the edge of the bed in nothing but boxers and a t-shirt, back hunched and small yawns leaving his mouth. It’s easy sometimes to forget how young he really is, even if he is older than Slash. Axl is intelligent and clever and likes to talk about politics, philosophy and poetry while most guys his age don’t really care about anything other than alcohol and parties. In these moments however, he looks his age.
Slash averts his eyes when Axl start shoving his pale legs in his jeans. There’s something too intimate in the action, almost reminds Slash of all the girls he’s snuck in this room who’ve done the exact same thing.
They make their way upstairs after Axl finishes dressing. Ola is setting utensils next to the plates while Ola Sr. sets a casserole on the table. As Slash passes his mom, he presses a quick kiss on her cheek. “Hi, mom.”
Ola smiles at him and then at Axl, who gives a small smile back. Even though Ola absolutely does not approve of Axl’s actions towards her mother, she’s still always had a soft spot for the basically homeless boy. Call it a maternal instinct. Slash sometimes wonders if she can somehow guess Axl’s had a hard childhood and is for that reason always so gentle and soft-spoken with him.
“Good evening, sweetie. Did you have fun at work?”
Slash grimaces. “Jesus fuck, no.”
“Language.”
“Sorry mom, but you don’t know how horrible retail is. I’d rather go back to that telemarketing job than do this for another year.”
“But you hated that job”, Axl frowns and sits down next to Slash, who nods. “Exactly.”
His mom chuckles. “I know enough about unbearable jobs, Saul. As impossible it may seem, I have also been a teenager once.”
Ola Sr. takes the only seat left, on the other side of Slash. “Is my grandson not going to give his grandma a kiss?” she teases and taps her cheek.
Slash rolls his eyes but grins and leans over to kiss her cheek lightly. “Anything for you, oh great grandmother.”
As the women chuckle, Slash steals a look at Axl, who’s picking at his food with a fork. He looks awkward, and not for the first time Slash wonders if he feels uncomfortable because he’s not used to a functioning, loving family dinner. Every time Slash tells his mom he loves her, or she greets him with a hug, Axl gets this weird look on his face, like he doesn’t know whether to smile or scowl.
Slash doesn’t like it, doesn’t like seeing his friends sad, so he does the first thing that comes to his mind. He grabs Axl’s neck lightly to keep his balance as he leans over the gap, and then he presses his lips against his cheek.
The reaction is immediate. Axl flinches and jerks out of his grasp. Slash flails as he teeters on the edge of his seat for a moment before his hand lands on the back Axl’s chair. He smiles at the ginger ruefully, staring into his wide, alarmed eyes.
“Sorry, Ax, didn’t mean to scare you.” He pushes himself upright and picks up his fork. He can still feel Axl staring at him. Both his mom and grandmother are looking between them.
“Why did you do that?” Axl rasps out, rubbing his cheek with the heel of his palm. Slash glances at him with confusion, and a little bit indignation. It’s not like he’s carrying some disease or whatever. Usually, Axl responds well to physical affection, is a tactile person himself, always hanging off someone’s shoulders.
“It was just a joke, Axl, don’t get offended. Just didn’t want you to feel left out”, Slash shrugs and shoves a forkful of casserole in his mouth.
He sees Axl turn to his food and stab a piece of broccoli with aggression. He mumbles something inaudible. Slash thinks he catches the words “just a joke” and “whatever”.
“What?”
“I didn’t say anything!” Axl glares at him with venom. Slash shrugs again, doesn’t really know what to say. He didn’t want to make Axl mad, but then again it never does take much to set him off.
He looks at his mom, only to see her sharing a look with Ola Sr. It’s oddly knowing, but Slash doesn’t get what there is to know.
He looks around the table, at Axl who’s staring at his plate again and purses his lips. This is not how he wanted this dinner to go. He knows Axl will get over whatever he’s angsting about this time soon, but in the meantime, he tries to lighten the mood up.
“So, anyway, there was this guy at work-“
__
Slash has had a weird week.
He’s feverishly waiting for Monday – which is weird in itself – just to see if everything would go back to normal. He’s had to catch an illness or something, it’s the only plausible reason for all his… feelings.
There’s no reason for him to be constantly flushed and tongue-tied whenever he sees Axl. They’re friends and have been for a while now. Plus, Slash is pretty sure he’s straight. Used to be hundred percent sure, but it’s been put under evaluation this week and now he’s less sure.
It started last Monday when they’d gotten high at Izzy’s, because he’s the only one with his own apartment. Slash had felt all nice and relaxed, like he was sitting on a fluffy cloud, or maybe like he was floating in water. And then Axl had sat his ass down next to him on the floor, shoulders brushing even though there was plenty of space. It was like all his nerves were suddenly located in his right arm, right where they were touching. Slash couldn’t feel anything else. It burned.
And then Axl was talking. And when Axl talks, Slash listens. That’s how it’s always went, but this time it was different. He couldn’t really focus on the words – he was sure Axl was saying something brilliant as usual anyway – because Axl’s face was distracting him too much. He’d never realized Axl’s side profile was so beautiful, but that’s a gay thought and Slash is not gay.
So that’s how that night went. A high Slash trying to stay sane while trying to ignore all those emotions Axl suddenly invoked in him. Super fun.
At first Slash thought maybe he just got a bad hit, but imagine his surprise when Tuesday rolled around and he in his usual fashion woke Axl up for breakfast only to choke on his words when the ginger flashed a sleepy smile at him. Pathetic.
And his friends had the audacity to laugh at him when he confided in them. They’d promised not to tell Axl because they’re not total assholes, but they still clowned the shit out of him. So maybe like 60% assholes.
Axl had been in a job interview somewhere in the city so Slash had herded the rest of the gang in his room, where he’d told them how Axl was making him feel. Izzy had immediately refused to take part in the discussion, but apparently, he had no qualms about listening Duff and Steven laugh about his ‘crush’ on Axl.
Steven, bless his soul, had suggested he confess, which… is really A Horrible Idea all around. First of all, he might not be as straight as he though, but that doesn’t mean Axl wasn’t. Second of all, these feelings are fleeting, they have to be. A little blip in his system that’ll be gone by Monday. Hopefully. Maybe.
Slash groans and smacks his face into his pillow.
“You good there?” Jesus, Axl’s voice is deep. Slash could drown in it.
“I’m fine”, he mumbles before rolling to his side to face Axl, who’s laying on his mattress reading a comic book Slash got him for his birthday months ago. It’s the fourth time he’s reading through it. Slash makes a mental note to buy him a new one.
Axl hums in response and turns the page. Slash lets his eyes wander over the other’s face, looking over all the imperfections and perfections of his skin. Axl’s hair is in a high ponytail, something he never does in public. It makes Slash’s heart beat a bit louder, the way the hairstyle reveals all the piercings adorning Axl’s ear, twinkling gently in the light.
“Axl, do you believe in love?”
Axl glances at him in faint surprise. He talks about stuff like this all the time, and Slash just likes to nod and agree. It’s the first time he’s been the one to open a deep conversation.
“Do I believe in love? That’s a new one.” Axl frowns at the comic book and rests his chin on his palm. “I mean, yeah? I guess. I’ve experienced it myself, so.”
Slash feels surprise paint his face. “You’ve been in love?”
Axl shifts uncomfortably. “Maybe not in love, but… I love people. Some.” He briefly meets Slash’s eyes.
A silence settles between them. Slash keeps watching Axl and the way he hooks a pinky finger in a hoop earring and pulls gently. It’s always been a nervous tick of his.
“You get what I mean?” Axl presses further.
Slash crinkles his nose as he mulls it over. “Well… sure. I love people too, like my parents.”
Axl makes a frustrated sound and shakes his head. “Not like that!” He makes eye contact and slowly repeats: “I love. People. Men.” He hesitates a moment. “You.”
It takes a moment for it to really sink in Slash’s brain, love, men and you. Him. He swallows, throat suddenly dry. He can’t tear his eyes away from Axl’s, who’s carefully looking for a reaction. He looks guarded, but still determined. He’s always been like that, unapologetic in everything he does, Slash thinks distantly.
“What?” he rasps out. It can’t happen, it’s too unexpected. Where were the signs, the fumbling and stuttering Slash went through?
He watches Axl slowly get on his hands and knees, crawling towards him. He stops when he reaches the bed, and sets a hand on Slash’s neck, a lot like what Slash did back at the dinner table.
“I’m going to do something, alright, and you can’t freak out. Can you do that?” Axl murmurs. Slash can feel his fingers trembling against the back of his neck. He nods, feeling like his voice might break if he speaks.
Axl nods once, as if to reassure himself, and then he’s pressing his lips against Slash’s.
It’s a slow kiss, tentative and a bit unsure. It’s the best kiss Slash has ever had. He’s also most definitely not straight.
When they break apart, faces still centimeters apart, Axl’s pale skin is red. “There’s the blush”, Slash whispers and trails a finger along his jaw. Axl shivers. “What?”
“Nothing. Can I kiss you again?” Slash pulls Axl to another kiss without waiting. It’s the second-best kiss he’s ever had.
__
“It smells nice.”
Axl sniffs the air. “It smells like an old apartment, what do you mean.”
“Yeah, but it’s our apartment”, Slash snorts and pulls Axl in by his waist. Axl rolls his eyes but can’t hide his smile when he hooks his arms around his boyfriend’s neck.
He looks around, leaning against Slash as he sighs in contentedness. It’s a small apartment with cheap rent that they can pay with their meager income. But Slash is right; it’s theirs.
“No more sneaking behind Ola Sr.’s back for a quickie, huh?”
Slash pecks Axl’s lips and hums. “I think she’s traumatized for life”, he murmurs before pressing their lips back together.
Axl doesn’t know how long they stand there, moving boxes around them waiting to be unpacked, just wrapped up in each other. It doesn’t even matter, there’s no one to interrupt them anymore. He smiles into the kiss.
__
“Hurry up, it’s freezing!”
“Shut up, ‘m trying.”
“Try harder, it’s freezing.”
“You said that already.”
“And it’s still true. Hurry up.”
Slash finally gets the door open, and Axl pushes both of them inside to get out of the cold. He’s red in the face, but it’s not like Slash is any better, might even be worse. Alcohol burns hot in his veins, pleasantly blurring everything together.
At least Axl can take his jacket and shoes off without having to lean heavily against the wall. He snickers at Slash before moving closer to help him. Slash wrinkles his nose in distaste. “Your breath smells.”
Axl huffs in amusement and tugs on a dark lock of hair. “Yeah, ‘cause I’m drunk. ‘n so are you. Get your coat off.”
They stumble to their bedroom, hanging onto each other and trying not to trip on the furniture. Thank god their house is small. It feels like every step takes them nowhere, vision tilting every now and then.
Slash collapses on the bed, already trying to crawl under the covers when Axl tugs on his ankle with a noise of protest. “No, babe, sit up. You can’t go to bed in jeans.”
Slash groans dramatically, but somewhere in his drunken brain knows Axl is right. He hates sleeping in jeans and he’ll thank Axl later. Too bad he’s not rational when he’s drunk. He makes a show of sitting up, grumbling the whole time.
Axl doesn’t even react, too used to his boyfriend’s antics. It’s not the first time they’ve come home shitfaced after a night out with their friends. He kneels between Slash’s legs and tries to open the zipper of his jeans. As he struggles with the tight jeans, Slash leans forward and sticks his nose in Axl’s hair. The man protests and tries to swat him away with one hand. “Hey, let me concentrate, your zipper’s not going down.”
Slash hums. Axl’s hair smells good. “It’s the one that’s broken. Just force it down.”
Axl strains as he pulls on the zipper. It finally opens with a loud noise. Axl grimaces and looks up at Slash. “You need to get some new jeans. Or maybe I need to go to the gym.”
Slash nods distantly and frowns. Axl looks nice on his knees, but he’s also too far away. Slash wants to kiss him. Without warning, he pulls Axl up and surges forward. Axl lets out a surprised sound and tries to balance himself with a knee on the bed.
The kiss itself is horrible. Axl’s breath still smells – but then again so does Slash’s – and the angle is awkward. It doesn’t help that in his excitement to kiss Axl, Slash maybe used a bit too much force, knocking their teeth together. They still try, Axl lowering himself on Slash’s lap to make up for the height difference, slotting their lips better together.
And it’s nice for a few seconds, but then Slash yawns. It breaks Axl, who dissolves into laughter, leaning his whole weight against Slash’s shoulder. He’s shaking in his lap, his choked giggles sounding so ridiculous Slash has to grin.
“Ax, don’t laugh. I still wanna kiss you.”
Axl laughs even harder. He’s gasping for air and gripping Slash’s shoulders so hard it actually hurts. And it really isn’t funny at all, but Slash loves Axl’s laugh enough to forgive him this time.
__
The door slams behind Axl. Slash would wince if he weren’t so fucking angry. He doesn’t usually lose his temper or even find the will to get angry in the first place, but lately it seems like all he’s done is snap at Axl for every little thing.
Not that Axl is any better, to be fair. Slash thinks he scowls more than he smiles these days, like the frown is stuck on his face. Well, at least around Slash. He thinks that hurts the most, seeing Axl smile at Duff for bringing him a beer and then immediately throw a dirty glance in Slash’s direction, like he’s blaming him. For what, Slash doesn’t know. Maybe everything.
It horrifies him, to see what they’ve become in a few measly years. Slash had made a promise to himself he’d be by Axl’s side for as long as the other wants him to be, but now he’s scared he himself doesn’t want to stay.
He’s tried, God, has he fucking tried. And maybe Axl has too. Doesn’t change the fact that they can’t stand to be in the same room for five minutes anymore.
The sound of something hitting the wall snaps Slash’s attention to where Axl is pacing and basically tearing at his hair. He threw a shoe at the wall. Great, Slash thinks bitterly, another noise complaint from the neighbors, like our yelling wasn’t enough already.
He scoffs and heads straight to the kitchen, leaves Axl behind and feels some type of satisfaction from it. And then it makes him sick, that he feels good hurting Axl when he loves him. Or loved, he doesn’t know yet. It’s a cycle really, getting so pissed at Axl that mean words come out without permission, biting hard, and then Axl bites back twice as hard and Slash doesn’t have to feel guilty. He still does, choking on it the next morning, promising himself he’ll make it right this time. (He never does.)
Slash open the cabinet, rummages through to get a bottle of whiskey. He’s been drinking a lot lately, no longer for fun like he used to, instead he tries to escape from the tension between him and Axl, to numb himself from the anger and guilt and pain and everything negative.
He hears Axl enter behind him, couldn’t miss the heavy stomping or the irritated huff he knows he’s meant to hear. It makes his blood spike again, the urge to argue growing inside him. He knocks the whiskey back, revels in the way his throat burns. He wishes it would hurt more.
“Can’t say I’m surprised to see you drink”, Axl’s voice is mocking, “guess old habits really do die hard, huh?”
Slash twirls around, slams his glass on the counter. Axl is leaning against the doorframe, arms and ankles crossed, looking every bit relaxed if it wasn’t for the tense muscles twitching giving him away. In his eyes glints a challenge. He’s looking for a fight, gets some sick satisfaction from ruining their relationship.
It’s that thought that makes Slash open his mouth.
“You know, I really don’t get you”, he grits out with clenched teeth. “I wanna make this work, I really do, but the way you’re acting? I just…”
Slash shakes his head and reaches for his glass again. Axl straightens and lifts his chin in defiance. He’s such a fucking child it makes Slash want to hurt him. A familiar pang of guilt hits him in the chest, but he’s gotten good at ignoring it.
“You just what?” Axl retorts, taking a small step forward. “You’re going to leave? Is that it? You want to fucking leave? So then leave!”
Slash winces at the break in Axl’s voice, knows he’s upset, but he can’t find enough altruism in himself to comfort him. Axl can throw himself a pity party all he wants, but he’s the one who started this. Or so Slash thinks, but to be honest he can’t even remember why they’re fighting in the first place. There’s always something these days. Maybe Slash thanked a waitress in front of Axl. Maybe Axl kicked his ankle under the table. Small things, big arguments.
“Axl.”
“Slash”, Axl mocks. “Go fuck yourself, I don’t even care.”
“Axl, you going to let me say something?”
“You don’t even love me anymore; I can see it in your eyes. So why are you here? Do us all a favor-“
“Axl, listen to me!”
“I don’t want to listen to you!” Axl explodes. Slash stills, watches the emotions dance in Axl’s eyes. He’s red in the face and his hair is a wild mess, but there’s desperations mixing with all the anger and resentment. It’s different, makes Slash pause. It doesn’t last long. His anger comes back full force when Axl shoves him in the shoulder. He shoves him back.
“So that’s it then? You’re breaking it off?”
Axl’s features twist. “I never said that.”
Slash snorts, but there’s no humor in it. “Yeah, well. You said enough.” He regards Axl for a moment, wants to let all the fury simmering beneath his skin out, but instead he looks at the way Axl is pale, how realization is dawning on him. He’s always gotten away with his instigating, has thought Slash would never take the bait. And now he’s realizing maybe he went too far.
They stare at each other then, both of them realizing their time together is ending. It’s like Slash’s anger deflates then, nowhere to be found. Instead, there’s just bone-deep weariness, exhaustion weighing him down. It was long overdue, he guesses, their breakup.
He steps closer to Axl, pulls him close. Axl is trembling, his hand fumbling for Slash’s shirt. His breaths are coming out in short puffs and there’s no sign of the fire from earlier.
Slash holds Axl’s face in his hands and kisses him deep. Axl is crying, he realizes as he tastes salt. Or maybe it’s him who’s crying.
He breaks the kiss off, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m sorry”, Axl is whimpering, “I won’t do it again, I promise. I’m sorry, Saul, I’m sorry, don’t leave, please.”
Slash shakes his head; he’s heard all this before. “I’ll come for my stuff later. I love you.”
And with a last look at Axl, he walks away. Away from the apartment, away from the man he thought he would marry one day. His heart is breaking, but as the door closes behind him, all he feels is relief.
__
Izzy passes Slash a champagne glass he plucked from a waiter walking by. Slash accepts it gratefully and takes a sip. He absolutely loves Steven, he does, but he doesn’t think he can make it through an entire day of pleasantries with people he doesn’t know or even really care about without a drink.
“Why couldn’t he have held a lowkey wedding like I told him to?” Slash grumbles under his breath to Izzy as they walk past a group of Steven’s cousins ogling at them. “Why is this place so fancy anyway? It’s like a mansion.”
Izzy’s mouth quirks up. “You think Carolina would let Steven hold their wedding in a ratty bar somewhere downtown? Funny.”
“Now, don’t get me wrong, the reception was beautiful. I also may or may have not taken a picture of Stevieboy crying for future blackmail, but-“ Slash slowly trails to a stop, the words freezing in his throat.
Izzy glances back at him and lifts an eyebrow in question. “What?”
Slash’s throat clicks when he swallows. “No, it’s nothing, it’s just… uh. Axl’s here.”
Izzy follows his gaze to the other side of the huge room, where a familiar redhead is talking to a woman. He’s gesturing wildly with his hands, apparently debating a passionate topic.
Slash can’t tear his eyes away. He knows he should, knows he doesn’t have the right to be curious, but… Axl looks good. He’s too far away for details, but he looks healthy and happy and radiant and Slash really doesn’t have the right to feel jealous, not when he’s the one to end it. Well, it’s not really jealousy he’s feeling, more like hurt that Axl seems to be doing better without him than with him.
He knows he’s a horrible human being, feels it deep to his bones. He’s happy for Axl, he convinces himself. It’s been three years, obviously he’s moved on. And Slash genuinely does want Axl to be happy, it’s all he’s wanted since the first moment they met, how they ended things hasn’t changed that. He’d just naively assumed they’d be happy together.
“You knew he’d be here. Steven’s his friend too, you know”, Izzy remarks evenly, though he looks a bit frustrated.
Slash knows their breakup was a complicated one, as far as friendships are concerned. The others had refused to pick a side, weren’t willing to cut anyone off, not that Slash expected that of them anyway. Hang outs had to be rearranged though, because Slash and Axl had decided that maybe seeing each other wasn’t such a good idea. So, on a Tuesday Slash went with them to a bar, and on a Friday, it was Axl’s turn.
That’s how they’ve been operating for three years now, and Slash has gotten so used to it he didn’t even think he would see Axl tonight. It’s like a blow between his ribs if he’s being perfectly honest. He’s been doing fine. He’s been happy, rid of the stress and negativity clouding over him, but seeing Axl again makes him think back to their happy days before it all went bad.
It hits him now, how much he’s missed Axl. It was easy to ignore it when they didn’t see each other daily, but that privilege has apparently run out today.
And then Axl’s eyes slide over to him. Slash’s insides freeze over, and it’s like he’s seeing in slow-motion as Axl’s eyes widen, then squint, and then he’s turning on his heel and rushing away. Slash stares after him, helplessly wishing he could go after him, but he also knows he doesn’t deserve that, hasn’t in years.
He doesn’t realize Izzy’s been looking at him with pity in his eyes until he feels a nudge on his arm. He turns his head to look at his friend, blinking at the open gentleness in his face, so unusual for Izzy.
“Go after him. He misses you”, he nods his head towards the exit, voice soft. It catches Slash off guard. His friends refused to be the messengers between them, so Slash has no idea how Axl has been or what he’s been doing. This is the first time Izzy has ever said anything about how Axl’s been feeling.
“He won’t like it.”
Izzy rolls his eyes and nudges him forward again. “Go. I think I know what he likes better than you at this point.”
It stings. It’s also the truth, so Slash goes. Follows Axl’s trail out the door to a beautiful deck decorated with fairy lights, standing bright amongst the darkening night. Leaning against the railing is Axl, shoulders hunched.
Slash approaches him silently and settles next to him, copying his pose. It’s silent except for the wind whistling through the trees. Slash takes a moment to breathe in and enjoy the warmth emanating from Axl’s always-running-a-fever body.
“How have you been?” Axl asks him quietly after a few minutes. Slash thinks about it for a moment, doesn’t let himself dwell on the way Axl’s voice still makes him shake. He settles for honesty.
“Honestly? I’ve been fine. I have a new job and I like it a lot better to the previous one. I took up playing guitar again.”
He sees Axl smile from beside him, small but sincere. “I’m glad.”
“What about you?”
“Honestly?” Axl steals a teasing glance at Slash, who can’t help but smile back. “It’s been great.” He hesitates. “I won’t lie, I was a bit of a mess when you left.”
“I’m sorr-“
“No, listen. I’m glad you did it, because you were right, you know?” Axl huffs out a laugh. “You’re always right, I don’t even know why I’m surprised.”
“It wasn’t good. What we were, I mean”, he continues. “The way we treated each other was insane. And I didn’t get it back then, that it wasn’t healthy. I didn’t get what a relationship should look like, not really.”
He looks uncomfortable now, directs his eyes to his clasped hands. “We started out so sweet and I guess it made me feel nice but scared too. It wasn’t what I was used to, you know, with my dad being who he was, and I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“And then you kept being you and I was going crazy, like when are we going to fight? When are you going to hit me, or scream at me, and I know you’re not like that, ‘cause we were friends and I know how you are, but I thought it’d be different in a relationship. So, I just took the initiative to bring us to my normal.”
Slash feels his heart sink. Of course Axl is traumatized from his childhood, it’s not a surprise to him. The amount of times Axl has freaked out during sex because Slash did something that reminded him too much of his father is too many. He just never thought it could go that far. He buries his hand in his hair.
“Oh god, I feel horrible. I should’ve known, should’ve done something, instead I just hurt you even more”, he groans.
Axl straightens and shakes his head insistently. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Or maybe you did, I don’t know. But I was the asshole, not you. My trauma is not an excuse to start shit and make others feel as bad as I do, it’s not how it works. The only reason I’m telling you all this isn’t to get some pity points, but to make you understand. Finally explain myself, I guess. You deserve that much.”
He runs his hands through his hair – it’s gotten longer, Slash can’t help but notice – and exhales deeply. “I’ve been sorting my shit out with a therapist, and I… I think I’m better now. A lot better. And I want to apologize, officially.”
“You really don’t have to.”
“I want to though”, Axl insists. Slash spreads his arms and nods his head. “Let’s hear it then.”
Axl takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”
They stare at each other. Axl is the first to break. He snorts and claps a hand over his mouth. Slash grins and reaches over to pull at a strand of auburn hair. “That was the weakest apology I’ve ever heard, red. Why don’t you try again?”
Axl smacks his hand away. “I’m not stooping that low. Besides, you were a bit of an asshole to me too.”
Slash sobers at that and steps closer. “I was. And I’m sorry too, especially for the way I left. We should’ve talked it through, have a conversation not dominated by anger.”
Axl smiles softly at him. The fairy lights illuminate his features and bask him in gold. He looks breathtaking. Slash swallows. “Do you think we could ever try again? We’re older, more mature. It could work.”
Axl’s hand reaches out to grasp Slash’s wrist lightly. Slash takes it as a cue to step even closer and lift his other hand to Axl’s cheek. They stand there, smiling at each other, before Axl breaks the silence.
“I want to try, if you do too.”
Slash exhales. “I do. I really do.”
And then he’s pulling Axl in for a kiss, so reminiscent of their first, slow and tentative, testing the waters. This time there’s no nervousness, no internal conflict, just two people still in love and willing to try again. Slash thinks his favorite kiss has just been dethroned.