the last part! there’s more to their story, but this is the end of the halloween story. oh also tw for vomiting
Duff woke first, eyes opening slowly and blinking the sleep out of them. The first thing he noticed was a big poof ball of hair in his eyes, and realized that he was holding Slash. He let go, scooting away quickly and assessing the damage.
Okay, what do we remember from last night?
Halloween party, check, spin-the-bottle, check, wait… there was a closet too but I can’t remember anything after that.
He reached up to wipe his eyes and felt that they were crusty with tears. He picked them off his eyelashes, running his hands up and down his face.
Why the fuck was I crying last night? Also, why can’t I remember anything? I didn’t drink anything at all, so that leaves a few things but taking the crying into account I think I might’ve had a really bad panic attack and that explains why Slash is here.
This had happened twice before to Duff, once at school when he found out his friend had killed himself, and another when Duff nearly crashed his car on ice just at the beginning of this year. That also explains why I’m in the same bed as Slash.
It was as if the thought had awoken Slash, and he jumped up and rolled out of the bed, sprinting out of the room. Duff watched him with a confused expression, before jumping up to follow him when he heard him retching from the bathroom. He found Slash on his knees in front of the toilet, gripping the seat and vomiting pure liquid puke. “Fuck, how much did you drink last night?” Duff’s voice was raspy, it was difficult to tell whether it was from just waking up or from the panic attack. Slash just glanced up at him, nodding his head before turning back and vomiting again.
Duff pulled the hair from his face, gently pulling it into a ponytail from one that he grabbed from Slash’s wrist. He soothingly rubbed his back, wincing as he dry heaved. “Do you need me to get you some water?” Slash nodded, resting his cheek on the toilet bowl. “Yeah, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low with sleep and raspy with sickness. “Don’t apologize, it’s okay.” That sentence seemed to ring a bell in Duff’s mind, a fleeting glimmer of a memory landing just on the edge of his brain. He couldn’t reach it, but it would come to him soon.
Duff stood, leaving the bathroom to go to the kitchen to get Slash water. Duff surveyed the house, trash and bodies everywhere. The living room was a wreck, bottles and wrappers strewn around. There was even a puke spot on the couch, and he saw Axl desperately running around, picking up every piece of trash he could reach. Izzy was passed out on the loveseat, a random chick facedown on the floor a few feet away. Still no sign of Steven, but he recognized a guy from last night sitting up under the table, groaning as he clutched his head.
A girl was curled up behind a couch, snoring loudly. Axl kicked her, waking her with a shout, and he turned to the guy under the table and grabbed his wrist. “Get up, fuckhead, you all gotta go!” Duff watched from the bottom of the stairs as Axl frantically woke everyone that was still there up, picking up bottles and shit in the process. Duff moved to the kitchen, catching Axl’s attention. “Dude, help me clean, my parents are gonna be here in two hours!” Duff glanced over at the clock, reading ten in the morning, and then turned back to the sink and grabbed a cup from the cabinet next to it. “I’ll help you later, I gotta help Slash first.” Axl just groaned, sliding past Duff and grabbing a garbage bag.
He filled up the cup, turning back to the stairs. As he was walking up them, Steven’s girl, Adriana, ran down past him. “Bye, Duff!” Duff waved, and passed Stevie in the hallway. “Hey Stevie, had fun last night?” Steven just nodded, smiling. “Yeah, until you walked in on us! Mood killer!” Duff’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but couldn’t get a further explanation as Steven ran past him. He returned to the bathroom, finding Slash curled up in a ball by the toilet.
He crouched down next to him, gently removing the stray hairs from his face. Slash sat up, and took the water from Duff, taking small sips. “Thanks.” His voice sounded better already, and he cleared his throat before spitting into the toilet. Duff sat against the wall next to it as Slash moved next to him. “Do you remember anything from last night?” Slash asked, massaging his feet from wearing heels all night for the first time. Duff shook his head, and Slash just laughed softly, standing up to wipe the makeup off his face. “Me neither, dude, I’ve never drank that much before!” Duff stood with him, standing next to him as he wet a towel and wiped at his face. “I didn’t drink anything, but I still don’t remember a thing. Actually, I think I had a panic attack and that’s why, do you remember that?”
Slash froze, staring into the mirror. “No, but I can kind of remember you freaking out. I can’t remember about what, though.” That was a lie, Duff asking about the panic attack brought back the whole night, mainly in little clips but enough to piece together that Duff had kissed him, he had liked it, Duff had a really bad panic attack, and he then fell asleep in the same bed as him. Slash was still, not gay. Duff looked like a woman anyways, so that’s why he enjoyed it.
Duff washed the eyeliner off of his face and took off the small coating of lipstick he was wearing as well. “I’ll probably remember later.” Slash agreed, trying not to make eye contact for fear of giving himself away.
They found Axl’s room, digging through his closet to find pants for both of them and a shirt for Slash.
They went down to help Axl clean, Duff being assigned to the Puke Patch as they were dubbing it, and Slash being assigned every other stain left from the party. Duff struggled to get rid of the Puke Patch, running to the store to grab professional cleaning supplies.
He stepped into the cleaning aisle, and a very familiar song started to play from the speakers. “Led Zeppelin,” he muttered, then stopped in the middle of the aisle. “Holy shit.” It came back in a flash, bursts of memories. His hand sliding up Slash’s thigh, having his first kiss with his best friend, pure unfiltered terror, and then possibly one of the worst panic attacks of his life. He froze, his gaze stuck to the bottle of stain remover in his hand. He remembered Slash coming in, then talking about Led Zep before he fell asleep.
Another memory surfaced, him waking up in the middle of the night and Slash holding him until he fell asleep.
He turned to the shelf, grabbing another bottle of whatever and stared at both of them, his mind racing.
I sure fuckin’ hope he doesn’t remember that.
Maybe I should play along that I still don’t remember so that he doesn’t get suspicious with me withholding details.
Duff made up his mind, grabbing another bottle, paying, and then getting the fuck out of there. He walked back to Axl’s place, setting the bags by the couch and getting to work. Slash came over and sat next to him, watching him scrub at the Puke Patch. “Makin’ progress?” Duff grunted in response, practically tearing a hole in the couch cushion. “It’ll come out before…” he glanced at the clock, feeling his stomach drop as he read the time. “This better come out in fifteen minutes or I’m so fucked.”
Slash grabbed a sponge, moving to help Duff. They worked on the couch together, the stain being barely visible by the time they were done. Axl came running in, surveying the couch. “Can’t even tell! Good job, they’ll be here in like ten.”
Slash’s face dropped as he read the time and he turned to Duff. “I gotta go soon, I barely told my mom I was leaving.” Duff frowned, putting away the cleaning supplies back in the bags he took them out of. “I snuck out,” he laughed, moving to the closet under the stairs to shove them in. Slash mock gasped, “Really? Duff the angel? Sneaking out? I can’t believe it!”
They ran upstairs to gather their shit, and as Slash picked up his dress and tights, he turned to Duff. “Are you sure you don’t remember last night? I wanna know what happened.” Duff looked away, busying himself with gathering his costume pieces. “No, no I don’t.” He heard Slash sigh, and he looked back at him. “Let me know if you do.” Duff nodded, taking his things downstairs as Slash followed him. “I don’t have fuckin’ shoes,” Slash laughed, holding up his heels. Duff smiled, checking that his own shoes were still intact. “Can I get a ride? Mine is, uh, gone.” Slash nodded, observing the bright red heels. “I ain’t wearing these again…”
“I can carry you,” Duff blurted, immediately regretting it. Slash just cocked his head to the side and smiled. “Y’know what, sure. I give you a ride, you give me a ride. We’re even!” Duff laughed, instantly feeling relieved that Slash didn’t care. Duff handed Slash his stuff, and Slash stepped forward. “The only way to do this is bridal style,” he said, cracking his neck. Slash practically jumped into Duff’s arms, Duff barely catching him. He hoisted him up, one arm under his knees and the other holding onto his mid back. He rested his head on Duff’s shoulder, sighing contentedly.
Duff kicked open the door, carrying Slash out to his car. He forced Slash to open the door, and set him down inside the car. He got in on the passenger side, looking over at Slash. “Thanks, Duffy.” Duff nodded, trying not to blush as they drove off.
Slash pulled up at Duff’s house, dropping him off. “Bye Duffles, I’ll see you later!” Duff said goodbye, watching sadly as he drove away. Man, he had really fallen for him. He reached up to gently touch his lips, trying to relive the memory of the kiss second by second. Duff sighed, turning to his house. He stepped up to the front door, and turned the handle.
Slash drove away, looking in the rear view at Duff. He was standing there, touching his face softly. Slash groaned, speeding up a tad bit. He. Was. Not. Gay. There was no way. Maybe Duff liked him. Maybe he wanted Duff to like him. He genuinely didn’t wanna explore his sexuality right now, and flicked on the radio. A slow smile creeped across his face as he recognized the band playing as Led Zeppelin.
