Slash doesn't understand why you keep chasing after him like a lost puppy. It's probably all part of your damn immaturity. You are young, not used to life; he tends to give you advice a father would, and that says a lot.

Come on, be logical. Slash is forty-two years old, despite his relatively young appearance. Meanwhile, you're just a kid of twenty-one. Besides all the differences, the way you met wasn't the most satisfactory.

It was something done at the height of lust, that's all. Both were in a bar, things heated up with the drinks running down your throats, burning them.

It was subtly relieving to see you didn't regret sleeping with him when you woke up, but being with someone so young, even though you are of age, feels weird.

Not only that, but Slash has an active life, not romantically speaking. He likes to experiment — so, logically, being tied down to just one person for the rest of his life is not something he thinks about.

This is one of those times you're annoying him with your immature passions of youth. “Leave me alone, kid. That was just one night,” Slash's hoarse voice seemed stimulating. He drank glass after glass of whiskey.

Your sweet voice in his disturbed head made him restless. No, this isn't right. Slash wasn't made for you. No, you're too sweet. What is that stupid smile on your face? Always so annoyingly proper.

Slash stays up late listening to stupid rock and metal songs, trying to imitate Dave Mustaine's solos, and gets into street fights at least once a week.

“I don't want anything with you. I'll break your precious little heart,” Slash scoffed, laughing dryly as he took another small glass of whiskey.

(ART: keo_chooo_ on insta )