Of Guns & Roses

Blythe Blazethorne’s days were just on repeat, almost having the same routine every single day. If she was lucky enough then Francessca will drag her to the nearest mall and waste their free time there, in that part — for a moment, Blythe would forget how boring her life was but soon, after their little hang-out and once she rode the bus home, it was going to be the same ol’ day again. Maybe because she was an introvert? Maybe because her friend was only Francessca, her best friend since middle school? Maybe because this was her fate? To live a boring, mundane life until god knows when? Most probably, Blythe would snort as these questions would pop out in her head while trying to sleep in the middle of the night. Well, Blythe was not really complaining. Her life was very peaceful, although, yeah — boring — the quiet, peaceful life gave her enough solace for herself. She was not really that outgoing person and would like to be alone at most times. It had its pros, and cons. As an art student, her days were pretty much passive and dull. Everything was just on cycle. Classes, paint, eat, do homework, sleep, repeat. Well, painting was something interesting, it was her passion after all. It was just that — it was sickening having to live a life where everything was just repeated. She would expect changes when she graduates because she would enter a completely different environment and responsibilities but now, she just wanted for her college life to be a little bit spiced up. No, she didn’t want to get that change through having a need to move or do some action. She wanted for this change to naturally happen and be thrown or shot at her like a friggin’ bullet out of nowhere or something. All in all, Blythe just wanted a little bit of an interesting life. Even her paintings looked lifeless every time because she didn’t really have a great experience or motivation to make one lately. Her paintings started to look very plain like her own life — so lifeless, withered, and with no meaning in it. It was rather a frustrating thing to her, a huge deal, because for goodness’ sake — she was a painter! She needed to paint something that had real, valuable meaning on it, with full feelings. If she wanted to be a successful artist in the near future and prove everyone wrong that she was not the typical wannabe artist that people always claimed her to be — she needed to improve and create wonderful arts that would move everyone’s hearts. To get that motivation, she needed a change, even a small change in her life. A change that might somehow make her rush over her empty canvass and pick up her brush, then draw and paint. Because she was slightly getting tired of her repetitive days. “I just want to have an interesting life, I want a small change, I want to experience something new...” Blythe prayed one day, wishing and sealing it a secret to the wind. And when all of the changes got thrown over her, there was when she regretted everything. /// “Are you going home now?” France casually asked, leaning over her friend’s desk while propping her chin onto her palm, elbow resting on the table. Blythe tiredly nodded, zipping her bag shut as she looked at the younger girl. “Yeah,” She muttered weakly, letting out a small yawn as a sign that she was very sleepy already. “How about you?” France shrugged, throwing a smile to her exhausted friend and stood up from her seat, eyes roaming around their almost empty classroom for no reason. “I might drop by downtown, my mother asked me to buy some stuff.” She responded with her small cheeky smile not fading, reaching for her friend and grabbed her arm, yanking her off her own seat. Startled, the blonde glared at her friend for the sudden harsh action — although she was a little bit grateful, France just wanted for her to move her ass up and not fall asleep there. “Let’s get going then.” sighed by Blythe. With that, the two best friends finally walked out of the classroom, and entered the not-so-crowded hallway, striding towards the school grounds that would lead them towards the main gate silently with another couple of students. Blythe tilted her head up to look at the dark skies, stars were already displayed and winking repeatedly at them. She had this small fondness for stars and astrology, stargazing was kind of healing and glancing over the starry night sky became her habit whenever she walked out of the school after their night class. “I really hate Mrs. Horace for putting on night classes like…” France suddenly rambled, a hint of annoyance lingering around her tone while Blythe silently agreed, also having a little bit of grudge towards their History teacher and unfortunately, the executive director of their school who decided that having night classes would be great. She then added, “The only good thing about this night class is that we’re classmates despite being in different departments,” The younger girl giggled at that while Blythe just threw her a small smile, and she was slightly grateful at that, truly. Because of this night class, every Wednesday night — they were classmates and would often go home together after it ended. However, today would be an exception. Blythe would walk home alone because Francessca would run some errands for her mother. When they reached the gates, the both of them looked at each other as they halted for a while. “I’ll go home now, stay safe, France. Don’t let yourself get robbed again.” Blythe lightly teased, a small playful smile etched on her lips as she walked in the usual direction. She heard a scoff from her friend. “Yeah, sure. You too. See you tomorrow, Bly!” France yelled and after that, she ran towards the opposite direction, almost disappearing in an instant — not before she sent her friend with a big, idiotic wave that earned some few weird stares from the other students. Blythe could only shake her head in amusement and slight second-hand embarrassment because of her goofy friend before tightening her hold onto her bag straps, padding towards the dark, almost empty alleyway that leads to her home. The familiar sight of the streetlights and worn out grey wall greeted her when she took a turn. It was very silent, well, the leaves rustling along the wind, owl howling, and vehicles zooming by could be heard but still, it was very silent, and dim — the lamps barely flickering, and not giving her enough light to see, however, she was used to it already. If she was with France right now then this walk would be less quiet as the both of them will converse and talk about random stuff until they reach their own respective houses. Sometimes, the both of them will engage into loud laughter whenever they stumble upon a funny topic. But without Francessca, the walk home was very silent and boring. Blythe hugged her cardigan closer to her when a gust of wind passed by. It was a pretty chilly night, she might say. She could feel the shivers running throughout her body, but it was not cold enough to make her teeth chatter. However, halfway through her walk to her house — she then started to hear some weird sounds nearby. It made her halt for a few moments, trying to distinguish what might that be and where it came from, her ears perking up at the noise that made her heart skip a beat. Blythe was not a fan of ghosts, she didn’t believe they actually exist but still, she still gets spooked out every time. Finally, when she realized that the noises were coming from the smaller alleyway at her left, she didn’t think twice walking down there to take a peek. It was too dark, Blythe could barely see anything but she stayed still, squinting her eyes to require accurate vision and roamed her gaze around, trying to spot where those seemingly groans came from. Her grip on her bag straps tightened, her heart pounding nervously against her ribcage, almost painfully. Her eyes lowered, and a gruesome sight greeted her which made her stumble backward on her feet with a surprised yelp. A person was lying down there on the cold, hard ground, a pool of crimson blood surrounding them — they could only grunt in pain as they tried to move but failed to do so. They were covering the bleeding wound with their hand if Blythe was correct. Blythe’s breath hitched, her shaking eyes watched the injured person in horror. She couldn’t move, the sight before her terrified her to the core, and a wave of nausea hit her that made her tremble a bit harsher. Her bottom was numbing after she fell when she stumbled. Another pained grunt and Blythe finally went back to reality. Out of instinct, she stood up and ran towards the injured person, panicking as she kneeled near them, checking their body out of instinct to find where they got wounded. “A-Are you alright!?” Blythe yelled, trying to look at the person’s face. It was dark, she couldn’t see anything but she could clearly see the short, shabby black hair of the person so it was safe to assume that this person was a man. He was tall, and his physique was muscular, and tough. Then, the injured man’s eyes opened slowly, almost bringing Blythe into cardiac arrest. A sneer formed on his bloodied lips. “D-Do I look alright to you, hmm?” It was too manly and deep baritone, so sweet yet husky — a hint of poison and sarcasm lingering around his tone. His voice alone could make one tremble in fear, it was rich, and overflowing of authority, and power. Blythe malfunctioned for a bit upon hearing his voice. A defeated sigh escaped from the dying man’s red lips. “Call the ambulance,” He ordered when he saw that the other girl was malfunctioning out of too much panic. That slapped Blythe to reality, she immediately grabbed her phone from her jeans’ pocket and dialed 911, it took her a while because her fingers were shaking so bad that she had to bite her thumb to stop it from trembling too much, and probably to snap out of it. She could feel herself shutting down too because of too much anxiousness. When the other line accepted the call, Blythe started to blabber. “H-Hello! I found someone h-heavily bleeding here…” “May I know the address please? So I could send an ambulance?” The operator immediately asked her, calm. Blythe’s mind went blank, forgetting the name of the street. “I-Uh, w-wait! L-Let me check, quick!” She yelped, and stood up, her wobbly legs almost giving up but when she finally stood into her feet, she ran towards the streets, trying to find the sign and finally saw it — she then dictated the street name to the operator. “Please calm down and go back to the bleeding person. Make sure they won’t pass out and help to apply pressure to the bleeding wound.” The operator instructed swiftly, not trying to rush her or anything. In fact, her voice was soothing enough to make Blythe a little bit calmer. The blonde woman nodded frantically and ran back to the scene, she saw that the man was still wearing his sneer, clutching on his bleeding side. “T-The ambulance will be here soon!” She announced, kneeling back. “They instructed me to not let you pass out!” A low chuckle could be heard. “Hope they won’t take long, I’m losing too much blood and I’m so freaking sleepy already.” The man muttered weakly, showing a toothy grin. Blood was also all over his angular face, Blythe noticed. Then suddenly, France’s basic instruction entered her head. Her friend is a med student so she sometimes teaches Blythe some basic stuff if something ever happens. Who knew those lectures would become handy in the near future? Throwing her bag on the corner and taking off her purple cardigan, Blythe looked at the woman in panic. “I-I… this cardigan will help.” She blabbered, indirectly asking for the man to take her hand off away from the wound and let her cardigan stop the bleeding instead, somehow. “About time…” The bleeding man grunted as he slid his hand off away from the wound and Blythe gently placed the folded cardigan there, terrified she might hurt the person even more. Another sigh escaped the unknown man’s lips, his bloody hand suddenly resting on top of Blythe’s hand which made the latter jump in shock. “Apply more pressure. Don’t be scared. I’ll be okay.” He instructed calmly with a slight reassurance, his weak hand pushing Blythe’s hands to apply more pressure to the wound to guide her and tell her that he won’t be that hurt. So, Blythe focused on that, gently applying pressure to the wound while panting a little bit. Her mind was fuzzy. The stranger’s bloody hand was cold, it sent shivers down to her spine. Her palms, she could feel a wet sensation there and she knew that it was all blood penetrating, and seeping through the piece of cloth. She was panicking, she didn’t know what to do next. Could that ambulance hurry up? “C-Can you entertain me for a while? I really feel sleepy,” The man suddenly muttered, his grip on Blythe’s hands tightened — a sign of pleading and the blonde gulped, nodding frantically, happy to help him stay conscious until help arrived. “H-How?” She asked, she couldn’t think of one — she was busy panicking. The only thing she could think of was that this person was bleeding and dying! Scoffing, the man just sighed. “Christ,” He weakly mumbled with a chuckle. Blythe felt embarrassed because of that. “Tell me about y-yourself, stranger.” The man suggested, lips forming into a small smile, yet it kept twitching because he was holding back his pained grunts. Gulping, the blonde bit her lower lip as she thought of a great introduction. “U-Uhh, my name is Herschel Blythe Blazethorne, and please don’t call me Herschel, it’s too cringey so Blythe will do,” She started off, her voice wavered a bit but she continued, wincing at herself for blabbering like that but she continued when she saw that the man was listening intently, smiling a bit at her introduction. “I attend this community college nearby and I’m a third year Art student. I love painting, it’s my passion.” The man said nothing and for a moment, Blythe thought he already passed out or worse, died already but she realized that the stranger was just waiting for her to continue on, still attentively listening. Blythe gulped again, her eyes glued on her hands that were applying pressure to the wound. She could feel the heavy gaze from her side but she ignored it as she continued blabbering about herself. “I-I have a pretty boring life so I couldn’t really say anything more. Well, I-I can draw realistic portraits too? I also wanted to get myself a puppy for my birthday. I-I also like admiring the stars and skies. I actually like to sing but please don’t ever tell that to anyone. Uhm, when I was a k-kid I accidentally burnt my whole classroom down.” The blonde randomly shared some facts about herself that would suddenly enter her mind, her cheeks heating up from embarrassment when she heard the stranger’s weak chuckles. “You said you have a pretty boring life? I-I found you very interesting though, Blythe,” The man suddenly complimented, trying to put up a sweet smile but failed. He just bit his lower lip when a severe sting on his side suddenly intensified again — he started to heavily breathe through his nose, trying to calm down. Blythe was in awe for a bit when he said her name so sweetly yet playfully, blushing and she hissed at herself because she could blush in this kind of situation. Releasing a shaky breath, the bleeding man then let out a wholehearted laugh, earning a pain on his side but he tried his best to ignore it. “My name is Hadax, by the way,” He then suddenly introduced himself. Blythe blinked, tilting her head a bit because of the uncommon name but she said nothing. It sounded handsome though. Hadax then let out a manly, pained giggle, taking a deep breath. “But since you really amuse me so much, Miss Herschel Blythe Blazethorne, I w-will give you my real name.” muttered Hadax, tilting his head a bit to look at her properly, his breath hitched a bit when another sharp pain passed through his wound. “Harrius Daxley. My name is Harrius Daxley, but I like Hadax more, like how you prefer Blythe over Herschel...” Hadax breathed out, obviously struggling to speak but he even had the guts to flash a very charming, boyish smile at her. However, before Blythe could even react or make a sarcastic comment, a loud series of sirens could be heard nearing the alleyway which made her freeze. “A-Ambulance!” She exclaimed, her voice squeaking at the end, eyes wide in relief — finally, he would get some help. Hadax let his head fall back to the floor with a soft thud, closing his eyes and sharply exhaled. “Finally.” weakly whispered by him. The paramedics immediately saw them and approached them hastily. Blythe instantly jumped away when the experts went closer with medical kits in their hands. The blonde could only watch them save Hadax who had his eyes closed, for a moment, she thought he really passed out but when one of the paramedics suddenly talked to him, he responded weakly. That enough made her relieved, releasing a soft sigh. She slid her body to the wall, tiredly sitting there at the corner as she leaned her back to it, eyes still glued at the scene before her. Her heart was still racing rapidly from adrenaline, panic, and nervousness but now, she felt better, and at ease. If Hadax ever died, then she would definitely blame herself for it. But seeing how things were going there, it was going perfectly well, it put her heart at ease. The last thing she wanted in this world was to witness someone die. A few minutes later, one of the paramedics went to her. She stood up and nodded as a greeting, the guy nodded back, smiling at her. “You did a great job, ma’am. The cardigan you used to cover his wound helped. If you didn’t do that then he wouldn’t probably make it.” He said with a grateful gaze. Blythe dumbly nodded, gulping at the thought of Hadax dying because of blood loss. The paramedics then added, “You also did well keeping him awake, ma’am. We’ll take everything from here now. You saved someone.” He said with a smile then handed her some wet tissues before patting her shoulders and going back to the rest of the team. The blonde let out a relieved sigh, looking at her hands tainted with almost dried crimson blood of the man she just saved. She gently wiped her hands clean with the tissue, although there were still some remaining — she just let it be and decided to wash her hands properly when she got home instead. When the paramedics started to move Hadax into a stretcher, she finally decided to get her bag and slung it onto her shoulders, walking near to the scene with still wobbly legs. She noticed that there were a lot of nosy passersby — she could only snicker because they weren’t there when she needed help the most. Thankfully, Hadax remained calm and just instructed her what to do to help him. And soon, the paramedics carried the stretcher where Hadax was laying and Blythe just silently stared. However, when the man with disheveled raven hair slowly fluttered his eyes open, their eyes met briefly before the paramedics could fully put him inside the ambulance. Blythe’s breath hitched when a pair of beautiful onyx eyes met her honey orbs. Few moments after that, the ambulance finally left the place, the siren still blaring, and the noise soon disappeared as the vehicle zoomed to the nearest hospital. The nosy people also left slowly, murmuring to each other. A sigh escaped Blythe’s lips, finally deciding to go home after a very tiring day. Emphasis on tiring. ///