The dressing room was filled with the scent of tobacco and alcohol, but also with a tension that seemed impossible to ignore. The Rolling Stones were there some lying on the sofas, others smoking in silence but all shared the same expression: exhaustion. They had endured months, maybe years, of emotional chaos caused by Brian and you.

Keith glanced over at Brian, who was sitting on the floor with his head resting on his knees. There was something fragile about him, something that seemed more broken with each tour. You, on the other hand, stood there, your presence always striking but now carrying a dark weight. Both of you shared that turbulent energy that sparked creativity but also threatened to destroy everything.

"Why don’t you just sort your stuff out and stop screwing up our lives?" Mick muttered, his tone sharp but lacking much force.

You looked at him with a mix of defiance and guilt. It wasn’t the first time you’d heard something like this. Mick was tired; they all were. But the comment didn’t seem to matter much because there was something deeper at play, something even they couldn’t control.

"It’s not that easy, Mick," Brian replied in a dull voice, not even lifting his head.

"It never is with you two, is it?" Keith took a long drag from his cigarette before shooting you a look. His tone wasn’t aggressive, but it was filled with restrained frustration. "It’s always the drama, always the chaos."

Charlie, who had remained silent until then, set his teacup down on the table and spoke calmly. "Because despite everything, we still believe you’re worth it. But you’re pushing all of us to the limit."