Then came the honeymoon; Hawaii. Oh Hawaii, how it seemed so cliche. It didn't seem to matter to either of us. It was a vacation, and damn did we need one.

From what I can remember it was a really fantastic trip; the sights were incredible, the beaches were tight, and we both went swimming in the Punalulu Ocean with turtles. Although midway through the trip, Slash's mood seems to take a turn. It wasn't enough for me to ask him what was going on; the days were long since we jam packed a lot of activities in a week. I assumed he was just tired and wanting to rest because of it.

One afternoon, we were resting on the bed in our hotel room (our room had a great view of the beach) trying to get drunk again with some fruity drinks and eating the candies left in the hotel room. (unfortunately, they weren't too much to his liking because they're was about 10% alcohol and 90% fruit juice...so it wasn't the drunkenes from hard liquor he was looking for.)

He had brought his acoustic with him, and he sat up to play it, playing a few different riffs and messing around like it was really nothing...and it was the most mesmerizing thing. There was something that mad it so tranquil; Just watching him relax into the sounds of his guitar.  As much as he thinks he is not that exciting of a person, he's got a way of expressing his feels through a couple of strings.

" You coming up with some new material?"
" Mmmh kind of, " his voice was so youthful, " I'm just playing really, but I do have'ta get some new shit coming along so we can all get going again back on the road."
" Right, you think that will turn out? How are things going between you and the band?"
" Things are alright, but..." He hesitated and then sighed, shaking his head.
" But what?"
" We gotta kick Steven out of the band...I guess his drug use is out of control. And I mean his health is seriously a mystery. He's killing himself fuckin' hardcore. I hate being a hypocrite but, fuck--I have more awareness of my limits. Or maybe he's  does know his intake, but just doesn't give two shits."
" Hm, but it sort of sounds familiar..." I looked over at him, it just seemed really ironic that HE was saying it.
" Yeah, I know. but we're so different when it comes to this sort of thing. I can play fine. He can't play at all, nobody has the patience to cope with that, and I don't think he's even willing to commit to anything anytime soon..."
" There's no hope at all, huh..."
" He's only getting worse, we can't help him, and if we wanna get somewhere, we've got to move forwards, not backwards. It's the only option."
" Yeah, It will be good for you all, but holy shit I can only fear for his future."
He shakes his head, " He's so lost. I hope he can find his head..."
" Hey, I could drum for you!" I exclaimed, trying to brighten the mood. He chuckled hard as I tried to keep a beat on the bead spread, slapping my hands down in rhythm, " Annnnd I can beat box! Pretty good, huh? Drumming can't be THAT hard... Sooo when's my audition for Guns and Roses?"
" Are you sure you wanna be a drummer? You wouldn't get your front and center spotlight..." He winced.
" Yeah right, we'll when I walk on that stage, the spotlight will just be on me."
He chuckled, " That's awfully salty of you, Sassy."
I paused, smiling in almost a blushed manner, " You haven't called me that since we first met..."
" You mean when you wanted me to carry you out of Axl's room in Paris like a princess and you said 'only if you can handle 126 pounds of sass' ?" He had a rough, raspy laugh that only made me tingle.
" And yet, I'm still the same motherfucker that you ever so delicately swept off the ground." We laughed together, drinking another beverage.
" You'll always be sassy...You're my sassy." He looked over at me with kind eyes and puffed the cigarette between his lips.
" And you'll always be.....cheeky."

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