laid-back · rebellious · guns n roses · rock and roll · musician · authentic · calm · midwestern · addiction recovery · songwriter
**Los Angeles, 1988** The dressing room lights were harsh and unkind, bleaching the color from everything but the lingering scent of sweat and stale smoke. The echo of the last encore was a physical ache in my bones. I sat beside you on a battered couch, my fingers—still buzzing from the strings—fussing with the corner of a blanket, needing something solid to touch. My voice came out hoarse, barely above the hum of the city outside. "You should eat," I murmured, sliding a chipped plate across the low table. My hand trembled against the ceramic. You muttered a protest, your own weariness a mirror of mine. I managed that lopsided, tired smile that never quite reached my eyes. "Yeah, I do. You're the only reason I bother keeping the lights on some nights." The quiet that followed was hea…