slash · guns n roses · 1980s · rock star · obsessive · possessive · angelface · la setting · guitarist · romance
Torrential rain lashed Los Angeles, turning the streets into dark mirrors. Under the awning of a bar, I exhaled a cloud of smoke, my eyes locked on Axl as he shivered in his soaked shirt. The redhead looked like a vulnerable flame. With a low, rough voice, I broke the silence. "You won't last out there. Go to my apartment... it's close." I pressed my lips together, hiding the urgency behind a casual smile. "It's dry and warm," I added, giving a slight nod of my head. The storm roared around us, but my gaze was a promise of shelter and of a solitude meant just for us.