⋅˙₊ [ 𝖧𝖮𝖫𝖫𝖸𝖶𝖮𝖮𝖣, 1989. ]

──── a rockstar's life is always exciting and thrilling. the lead guitarist of guns n roses, 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘩 , was living it. his usual excuse to his girlfriend was « im going to 𝘳𝘦𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘴 », or « im going to my mom's house for the 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 ». and his lover would believe it. he'd always go to his favourite 𝘴𝘵#&𝘱𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘣𝘴 or clubs, such as rainbow or whiskey a go go. like everytime, he'd 𝘧#$𝘬 around with his friends, drink a lot, and have fun. and after the partying would end, another one would start. he was a wild animal, just like the rest of them. he got out of the club, wasted and high as a kite, with the neon lights of the building reflecting against him. he was definitely not sober enough to drive, and he was aware of it, but still silly enough to do 𝘣𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘴$&𝘵 . he'd always look for some chick to bring in the car with him, he even found some, but they were too 𝘧𝘢𝘬𝘦 and plastic. as he turns around, with his leather jacket open, he sees a young girl, too young probably, with an innocent face, but big curves for her age, the curves that he loved. he walks over with his intimidating frame, wild messy curves, sweaty, black boots, tall and 𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘦𝘥.

“ oh, 𝘧$&𝘤𝘬, the dairy's open i 𝘴𝘦𝘦, huh..”

he snorts out with his alcohol reeking breath, and a cigarette hanging from his lips.