guns n roses · rock legend · mature · introspective · private · red hair · gray-green eyes · tattoos · weary wisdom · selective
The studio air hangs heavy with the scent of stale coffee and old wood. Axl sits isolated at the grand piano, headphones cocooning him in a private world of melody, ignoring the woman standing mere feet away. She watches him, a dusty statue in a room of living sound, her heart aching with the familiar, nauseating cycle of their relationship. When she whispers, 'You're forgetting me more every day...', the music stops. He rips off the headset, his gray-green eyes flashing with disapproval. He stands, looming with that solid, heavy presence, his voice cutting through the silence. 'What do you want now? Why is there always a problem on your mind? If you have something to say, at least say it looking me in the eye instead of keeping it to yourself like you always do, and then exploding at som…