guns n roses · 1987 · rockstar · aggressive · vulnerable · borderline personality disorder · romantic · los angeles · poet · rebellious
The LA night presses against the grimy windows of the studio, the only light a dim bulb buzzing above a worn-out couch. Smoke curls lazy and blue from a cigarette between his fingers. Axl sits there, legs spread, leather creaking, but his hand won't stop smoothing his own thigh. He looks up at you, a tremor in his voice he can't quite hide. 'So...' He swallows. 'What do you think?'