(Axl's POV)

I don't just like her, I love her.

I love her. I love her. I love-

"Axl!"

My room is a blur as my eyes snap from the stark white ceiling to my closed door, where Duff's voice travels through the rest of our apartment.

I hate yelling. He knows I hate yelling.  That motherfucker.

My limbs feel tired already as I pick myself up off my bed, away from the made white sheets that I've been laying on top of in my clothes for I don't know how long.

Thinking about her. Like a schoolgirl with a crush.

The door rattles after I throw it back, revealing the messy hallway. Slash and Steve invited people over last night. It was a shitshow.

I hate messes. They know I hate messes. Motherfuckers. 

"What's happening?" I feel my own voice rattle in my chest, still hoarse from the two hour show we played yesterday.

The Roxy was so crowded that they ran out of water in the summer heat, so I had to go without in between songs. That, no air conditioning, and stage diving into the crowd with my bad knees set the means for my day of recovery. Sitting on my ass, doing nothing, even though there's plenty of responsibilities I should be tending to.

An excuse to drool over Chas. All. Day.

Duff stands alone in the disheveled living room, and from far away, he looks lankier than usual.

"I called the girls. Michelle nearly made me go deaf on the phone when I told her they can go to the show-"

"Was Chas there?"

Hold your fucking horses. It's a wonder he hasn't put all the pieces together already.

"Yeah. And my mom got Michelle a car! Chas was yelling in the background about how junky it is, and they were arguin' like they always do," Duff smiles at the beer can littered floor as he talks, shaking his head. "Said they're gonna go drive it. They don't even have licenses, but I need to ease back a bit, I know it, so I'm gonna try not to worry about 'em."

"Chas is just jealous," I tell Duff, grinning myself.

I know how much that girl wants a car. She's complained just about a million times to anyone who'll listen.

One day, maybe I'll be able to get her a car. A really nice one. If this record works out and the band survives. In the mean time, I'll just have to let her drive the Camaro. Sweet girl won't even be able to see over the steering wheel. . .

"Jesus, I hope they don't kill themselves while on the road. It's not a good idea, I don't know how Alice let them go-"

"Stop it, before you make me worry for them too," I say genuinely.

Chas is smart. She's gonna be alright. I'm sure they're only going down the street and back.

Duff groans, falling back onto the black leather couch behind him. "See! I'm fuckin' telling you, I don't know how we're gonna wrangle them in the night of the show. We're gonna have them in the club, around God knows who, with alcohol, and drugs, and-and other bands! Fuckin' Vince and all them are bad news, how are we gonna make sure the girls aren't bothered by any of them, you know how they are."

I ruminate on that for a second, the same way I have been since we even conceived the idea of the girls tagging along.

In a week, I'm taking my young, sweet girlfriend to a bar. One where there will be vices galore, plus other bands. Guys in those bands who are notorious for sleeping around, crawling with disease and prey on girls like her, like Chas.

It scares me. It makes me jealous right down to my core, but ignites my urge to shield her from it all. To keep her, her. Away from the world I live in, where people are mean and jaded and out for blood.

Chasity is the nicest girl I've ever met. Everyone she meets ends up wrapped around her little fingers, including me. That's just how she is.

I love her. I love her, and she doesn't even know it.

"Remember," I start, recalling what we've already come up with to calm us both. "We're just gonna keep an eye on them, Mandy and Pamela will help. And once it's over, back home they go. The music video wasn't so bad-"

"Maybe, but I nearly had a damn heart attack over that, too."

"It's gonna be fine. It will be." I put it out there, into the universe. Begging.

Begging that I won't have to punch any fucking creeps for doing so much as looking at them like they're a piece of meat.

It makes me want to cover both her and Michelle in sheets, like ghosts on Halloween. Like they're invisible.

"God, I fucking hope so." Duff groans more as he runs his hands through his hair, before looking at me. "Are you even gonna be able to go on then, Mr. 'I'm a fucking pussy I feel terrible because there was no AC'? Or will you still be recovering?"

I roll my eyes before sighing, not wanting to hear him bitch at me like he did last night after the show, when I locked myself in my room instead of partying with them all.

"You're hilarious, you fuckin' giraffe."

He gives me the middle finger, scoffing. "Don't be so fuckin' prissy. I was the one who had to deal with a hangover and play nurse to Steve and Slash who are drunk all over again at the studio. They're still there, by the way, with Izzy, racking up all types of bills with all our names on them."

"Great," I wave him off before turning back down the hall, quickly running out of fucks to give. "My throat hurts. I'm going to lay down. I've had enough of the bitching for today."

When he snaps back at me, my only response is the slam of my door behind me.

The closer we get to the release date of Appetite for Destruction, the more tensions rise amongst us all. Money is a big factor in all that.

It's quickly running out. All the caps are being placed on us way sooner than we thought, and promises from the label are falling through when it comes to the album. They've just told us that we'll never make it on MTV, that we basically wasted five thousand dollars on the Welcome To The Jungle video. That fight is just starting, amongst all the others. Songs we want to have on the record but can't, because of budgeting. The cover art, which apparently is too offensive. Problems with finding us a tour to hop on as support in a few months, as we apparently can't be given a spot due to everyone's apprehension with us because of our reputation.

Not to mention, the everyday bullshit, with everyone's crap that they pull. Steven nearly landing in jail for causing mayhem on the Strip, Slash's girlfriend Sally screaming at him through our front door at least once a week, Izzy's fraternizing with strippers getting him tied up with their boyfriends who are also his dealers. Duff's love for vodka. My love for a seventeen year old girl who's practically his sister.

Chasity, Chasity, Chasity.

I lay on the side of my bed closest to my nightstand, where my glasses and spare cigarettes rest. The side she chose in her drunken stupor.

I've forced myself to contemplate just what could happen if Duff put all the pieces together. My sneaking out late, Chas squirming every time she sees me, Sweet Child O' Mine (which is slated as number nine on the tracklist now, much to everyone's dismay.) Me not having brought any girls back to our apartment for nearly a year.

See, me becoming practically celibate wasn't a planned thing. Between being in the studio, doing shows, and absolutely losing my fucking mind over Chasity, there's been no time or desires for anything, with anyone.

Nobody but Chas.

But I can't. Only what she wants from me, what she's comfortable with, and she's given me no indication of wanting to do anything but kissing.

Yeah, kissing me like a porn star, and letting me look at her panties in public, but that's not sex.

Taking things slow, especially this slow isn't my usual fashion, but I'd do anything for Chasity. Anything.

Even if that means that after every time I'm alone with her, I have to get myself off so I'm not sneaking back into the apartment hard as a rock.

She's just so sweet, that I don't even care that I've become best friends with my right hand.

I'd wait forever for Chasity.

I can't even tell her I love her. I don't want to scare her off, make her overwhelmed. Poor girl didn't even believe that I wanted her to be mine when I said so, right to her face, so how would she react to me telling her that I love her, when it was seven days ago that we barely even made things official?

"You're too attatched, Axl." "You're too emotional."

Everyone's always told me that, my whole life. And I know it.

Chasity just makes me feel so alive. She's everything I've never had, everything that's been unattainable, and she doesn't even know it. She doesn't even know how much she means to me.

I'm in too deep. It's only been a few months.

I hope it's forever. I hope she doesn't get sick of me, everything that comes along with me.

Fuck it all, right?

I'm in too deep.