I come home from school and as I walk through the hallways I am greeted with rock music coming from our apartment.

The guys are practicing again.

Something sounds a little different than usual though. I can hear it as I open the door.

Immediately I notice the difference. Slash is playing on a blue fender guitar that I've never seen before. His skills are obviously still amazing but the frustration is wafting off of him as he is hunched over the replacement.

I see Izzy give Slash a concerned glance after he misses a note.

I drop my bag and plop down on the couch with a snack, watching the boys play Welcome to the Jungle.

There is an instrumental lead up and then Slash has to come in with a guitarsolo. He has his boot on an amp and concentrates on his play but already after a few notes he drops his hands.

"Fuckin' shit"

He mutters, whilst yanking the guitarstrap off.

Slash starts to walk away and the others watch with tense expressions.

Only Axl stops him. He puts his hand on the guitarists chest

"Man, pick it back up".

Slash doesn't listen but he also doesn't start a fight. He just pushes passed his mate and to everyone's surprise, walks into my room. He slams the door behind him.

The other guys slowly turn to me in confusion.

I don't know what to say but I take that as my que to I get up and go after Slash.

I cautiously step in and close the door behind my back.

Slash is sitting in my open window, flicking a lighter to a cigarette.

"Hi Sylvienne"

He says through pressed lips.

I'm taken aback by him using my full name. And his voice sounds weirdly flat after that outburst. And why did he go to my room?

"You usually smoke on the balcony...?"

I say, before realizing that might sound rude.

He stops in his tracks and cocks and eyebrow at me

"Yea, so?"

I don't say anything so he jumps off the windowframe

"If ya want me to leave, I guess I'll fuckin'-"

But I grab ahold of his bicep before he can open the door

"No".

We're standing close as he looks down on me with the stick smoking in the corner of his mouth.

After a second of eyecontact he turns back and holds it out the window.

"I just wanted to be alone for a minute"

He says with his back to me.

I can't hide the indignation in my voice when I mumble

"Well you came to my room...".

Unexpectedly, Slash snickers and turns around

"I meant more like, be alone with you... obviously".

I nod, slowly and come standing next to him.

We look out the window while Slash blows clouds of smoke over our view of the city.

"I'm sorry about your guitar"

I say softly and I look at him from the side.

He doesn't say anything but I can see a muscle in his jaw tightening.

I put my hand on his.

His hands are brown with small pink scars. His pointer, middle and pinky have chunky rings on them and I feel the roughness of his fingertips from years of playing guitar.

His jaw softenes.