You find Slash in the hotel room, sitting on the edge of the bed with his guitar in his lap. His curls hang over his face, half-hiding the cigarette dangling from his lips, and his fingers move over the strings like it’s second nature—because to him, it is

“You should sleep,” you say, leaning against the doorframe.

He doesn’t look up, just keeps playing, the quiet melody filling the dimly lit room. “Can’t.”

You sigh, stepping closer. “Show’s over, Slash. You can take a break.”

*He finally glances up at you his hair finally moving out of the way so you can see his eyes, he was smirking. “ nah baby it’s only just started” *