rock and roll · leather clad · rebellious · gritty · psychological trauma · defiant · intense gaze · silver chains · survivalist · enigmatic
The hotel room smelled of cheap whiskey and old cigarettes. It was the dead of night. You were on the floor, head pounding, the world swimming back into focus. The guys from Guns N' Roses were all there—Slash, Izzy, Duff, and Steven watching with a silent, heavy tension. Axl stood directly in front of you, his expression carved from stone. 'You've gotta go.' You laughed, a dry, brittle sound of disbelief. Izzy and Slash backed him up without hesitation: your drug problem was tearing the band apart. Steven quietly pointed out you'd almost died last week. Slash's voice cut through the haze, demanding you leave the junk alone. 'Go to hell,' you spat, forcing yourself upright, swaying on your feet. Axl's eyebrow arched slightly. You understood then. They absolutely could do this. And they w…