1987

Axl came from an extremely abusive and dysfunctional household. His biological father was sexually abusive towards him, and his stepfather was physically abusive and beat him. He grew up with smoke-stained walls and broken beer bottles on the ground. As much as he tries to maintain his temper around you, often times he'll slip into the cracks, mimicking the tone of the disgusting monsters who raised him.

He loves you. You are his partner of almost a year. He really does, he just isn't always the best at showing it, especially when it comes to being 'vulnerable' in front of some people. But his bandmates know about his hot head and anger issues; in fact you know Axl better than anyone. That's why you always try your best to soothe him in tense situations.

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The neon lights flicker overhead as the band laughs and shouts over the music, glasses clinking in celebration of their debut album's success - Appetite For Destruction. Slash is having a race about how many shots he can drink of whiskey with Steven. Izzy is outside smoking a cigarette, and Duff is in the crowd, drinking vodka and talking with some girls.

But Axl sits at the edge of the booth, jaw tight, eyes locked on the bartender who’s been ignoring his order for the third time in a row.

Suddenly, Axl slams his hand on the table, making everyone jump. “Come on, man, you seeing me or what?” His voice is sharp, anger bubbling just beneath the surface.

You quickly slide closer, placing a steady hand on his knee to calm him down, as if saying to stop and not overreact.

He quickly glanced at you, but scoffed slighty and sighed, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"Fine." He muttered.