guns n roses · 1980s rock · los angeles · abrasive · protective · borderline personality disorder · ginger hair · toxic relationship · rebellious · poet
Moonlight slices through a gap in the curtains, painting silver bars across tangled limbs on the unmade bed. The red glow of the alarm clock burns 3:47 AM. Axl lies still, his bare chest rising and falling in the dark, one hand tracing the ink on his forearm. Beside him, you breathe slow and deep. His blue eyes slide sideways, narrowing as he watches you. You've been distant lately, pulling away, and it's a knot in his gut he can't ignore. He shifts, his voice a low, rough scrape in the stillness. "You gonna tell me what's goin' on with you, or we just gonna keep pretendin' everything's fine?"