Imagine Arguing With Axl Over One of His Temper Tantrums (PART 1)
//requested by anonymous//
It’s been 9 days since Axl and you last spoke. He was constantly in the studio recording the double album, and the absence of communication between him and his bandmates had put him in one of his moods. Lack of sleep, stress, and overall frustration had ignited his rage and provoked his temper. You seemed it fit to leave him alone, not wanting to add to his infuriation.
While you were at home, you began to dread whenever Axl would return from the studio. His bitter disposition created a toxic and morbid atmosphere in the once radiant and jubilant house. You were cleaning up after Axl, picking up his clothes off the bedroom floor. As you put the dirty laundry to wash, you heard the front door open only for it to immediately be slammed shut. Axl was usually never home this early.
You had spent the day deciding whether or not to confront him. Talking to Axl was risky, and he easily became enraged whenever anyone tried to understand him. Still, you figured that no matter what you did it would no doubt end in a fight, so why not take your chances and just get it over with?
Walking into the kitchen, you saw Axl sitting with a beer in his hand. You leaned against the counter, watching as his eyebrows pulled together and his face twisted into an expression of disinterest.
“Axl, do you need anything?” You asked quietly, trying to gently ease the two of you into conversation.
He shook his head and took a drink, focusing his attention towards the wall. Determined to get him to speak, you made another attempt.
“It’s been over a week since we’ve talked, Axl,” you paused as you searched for the right words to say. “What’s been going on?“
Axl remained fixated on the opposite side of the room. His eyes squinted and you saw his hand tighten his grip on the bottle. In an instant he violently threw it at the wall, and your hand immediately flew to your chest as you jumped from the sudden impact.
“No one ever leaves me the fuck alone!”
He walked into the living room, and turned around to look at you for the first time in days. His face was red, his hands were balled into fists, and his eyes displayed such intensity it made you feel as if he would erupt at any moment.
“I work all fucking day!” he shouted, kicking the coffee table.
“Axl, stop it!”
“And all anyone ever does is screw around and fucking get high!” Axl yelled, throwing the vase on the floor.
You cautiously walked over to him, and placed your hand on his arm to console him.
“Axl, can we please-”
Pushing your hand away, he sneered, “Get the fuck away from me.”
His immaturity made you forget why you were with him in the first place. He was never this bad, however, you feared that things were about to get much worse.
Axl returned to the kitchen, banging his fist on the wooden cabinet, making the plates rattle.
You followed him and raised your voice, “What happened? Just tell me so that we can fix it instead of not speaking to each other for over a week!”
“You wanna know what fucking happened, Y/N? Nothing happened! That’s the fucking problem!”
He began to walk away again, and as he did his foot hit the garbage can, causing him to stumble. Feeling provoked, Axl kicked it across the room.
“Stop fucking breaking things!” you shouted at him.
“Why, Y/N? Am I bothering you? What could you possibly have to be angry about?” He spat, opening the cabinet and taking out the plates.
“Is this pissing you off, Y/N?” He instigated, succeeding in tantalizing you.
Axl smashed the plates on the floor, scowling as your eyes widened in shock. A grimace on his face, he reached for the glasses and broke them one by one, covering the entire floor in shards.
Axl bolted up the stairs and went into the bedroom. After hearing a loud crash, you ran upstairs and watched as he completely demolished the room. The drawers were scattered, clothes were flung, and the mirror was cracked. Ignoring your wariness, Axl stormed out and continued his rampage in the living room. You sat on the bed as tears rushed down your face. The beautiful memories the two of you made in the room were now tainted. You couldn’t quite seem to fathom what had awakened such rage and callousness. Never did you think it would become this awful. You wiped your cheeks, and prepared yourself for the repercussions of facing Axl.
Standing in the living room, your jaw dropped in horror at the scene that had unfolded before you. Axl had flipped over the furniture and wrecked your entire home. Everything was trashed; the house nearly impossible to recognize. He sat against the wall amid the clutter, a cigarette in his hand. Unfazed by what had just occurred, he took a drag, disregarding your presence.
“Axl, I don’t know what the hell is going on, but if you’re gonna act like this every time something doesn’t go your way then I don’t think I can deal with it anymore,” you said, your voice no louder than a gentle whisper.
He turned to look at you, and pushed himself off the floor. Stopping in front of you, Axl failed to notice how upset you were. It surprised you how he was unable to grasp the severity of how much pain he had caused you.
He stared you down and muttered, “Fine by me.”
Axl left you feeling even more conflicted than before. Your emotions began to take over, and you didn’t care about clothes, your house, or anything. You just wanted to get out. You had to get out. Grabbing your car keys, you began to drive with no destination in mind. You could feel a huge lump form in your throat, making your eyes feel like they stung. Forcing yourself to soothe your tumultuous thoughts, you tried to figure out the next course of action. Fear and worry consumed you, and all you could think was
Where do I go now?