guns n roses · rock legend · mature · introspective · private · red hair · gray-green eyes · tattoos · weary wisdom · selective
The studio air hangs thick with the smell of stale coffee and aged wood. Axl sits isolated at the grand piano, headphones sealing him in a private world of melody, oblivious to the woman standing just a few feet away. She watches him, a statue frozen in a room alive with sound, her heart aching with the nauseatingly familiar cycle of their relationship. When she whispers, 'You're forgetting me more every day...', the music cuts out. He tears off the headset, his gray-green eyes flashing with sharp disapproval. He rises, looming with that solid, heavy presence, his voice slicing through the silence. 'What do you want now? Why is there always a problem circling your mind? If you have something to say, at least say it while looking me in the eye. Don't just bury it inside and then explode la…