Bandom One-shots book 3

You're Crazy ! Part Nine !

~Based on the true story of You're Crazy~

The lights are blinding, the crowd is roaring, and I can feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins as we rip through the set. This is one of those nights where everything feels right—until it doesn't.

Duff's rocking out front, the familiar, easy rhythm of his bass in the air. Steven's behind the kit, pounding away with that wild energy he's got, and the rest of us are feeding off the crowd, pushing ourselves harder with every beat.

And then she shows up.

I don't even know where she came from, but the second I see her, I get that bad feeling in my gut. She's stumbling through the front row, drunk as hell, and before anyone can even react, she pulls a beer bottle from nowhere.

I see the bottle in the air and everything slows down. I can already tell where it's headed—right towards Duff.

The bottle clinks against his shoulder, exploding beer all over him. He staggers back, more surprised than hurt, but that doesn't matter. She's crossed the line.

"Hey! What the hell?!" Duff yells, half-laughing but clearly pissed, wiping beer out of his eyes.

Before he can even catch his breath, Steven's up from his drum kit and charging into the crowd, his face red with fury. I can see it in his eyes—he's not playing around. He's ready to tear this chick apart.

And then, before I even think, I'm grabbing the mic, yelling into it, my voice full of fire.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I shout into the mic, my eyes locked on the girl. "You think it's funny to throw stuff at my band? Are you out of your mind?"

I'm moving toward the edge of the stage now, adrenaline kicking in as I get closer to her, the anger bubbling up in my chest.

She looks up at me like she's confused, but I don't care. She doesn't get a pass for this.

"You don't get to mess with my band. You don't get to mess with us." My voice cracks like it might shatter the sound system. "If you ever throw something at us again, I swear to God, I'll make sure you never step foot in another one of my shows!"

Security's finally rushing in, pulling the girl back, but I'm still on fire, and I can feel the heat of it behind my eyes. Steven's got her by the arm now, dragging her out of the pit, but I'm not done. I'm furious.

Izzy's beside me now, his hand resting on my shoulder, the calm to my storm, but I'm still pacing. The whole show's thrown off, and I can't shake the feeling of anger—this isn't just about the girl. It's about respect. This is our space, and no one gets to fuck with that.

Slash looks over, still playing, but his eyes meet mine for a second, then go back to his guitar. He knows what's happening. He knows the vibe.

The show goes on, but the energy is off. Duff's angry, but trying to shake it off, and Steven's still muttering to himself. The crowd's not sure what to make of it, but we power through the rest of the set, doing our thing.

Once we hit the backstage area, though, it's a different story. Steven's still fired up, pacing, fuming about the whole thing. He's throwing his sticks around, still pissed off. Duff's shaking his head, trying to laugh it off, but I can see it in his eyes—he's shaken.

"Can you believe that, man?" Steven says, still pacing. "What the hell was her problem?"

Duff just shrugs, trying to let it roll off, but I know he's not cool with it. I'm not cool with it either.

"I'm not letting it go," I snap. "Nobody messes with us like that. Nobody."

Slash's looking at me with that signature grin, not one of mockery but more like he's catching on to something. He flicks his hand in the air and looks at me, all easy and laid-back.

"You're fucking crazy, Axl" he says, laughing. "But hey, it gave you a bit of inspiration, didn't it?"

Izzy stands off to the side, arms crossed, watching me closely. He knows I'm not just angry; there's something more building in me. Something that needs to be let out.

I stand still for a second, my brain processing everything. The crowd. The bottle. The anger.

Then it hits me. This is more than just a one-off moment. It's how I feel about everything. It's frustration, it's anger, it's defiance.

I grab my notebook off the table, flipping it open to a blank page. Slash is still watching me, Izzy standing right beside me now.

I scribble down the first words before I even think about it.

"I've been lookin' for a trace. Lookin' for a heart. Lookin' for a lover. In a world that's much too dark. You don't want my love. You want satisfaction, ooh yeah. You don't need my love. You got to find yourself another. Piece of the action, yeah. Said where you going. What you going to do?. I've been looking everywhere. I've been looking for you. You don't want my love. You want satisfaction. I've got your satisfaction. You don't need my love. You got to find yourself another. Piece of the action"

I'm writing fast, faster than usual. The words are coming, like they've been waiting for this moment. She made me angry, sure, but it's more than that. The whole damn world sometimes feels like it's against us. Like everything is crazy. And we're just trying to survive it.

I hear Izzy's voice behind me, low and calm, but full of understanding. "You're getting it down, huh?"

I don't answer right away. Instead, I keep writing. The next verse comes fast.

"'Cause you're crazy, crazy. You're fucking crazy, oh my. You know you're crazy, oh child. I said you're crazy ay, ay. Yeah. Say, boy, where you coming from?. Where would you get that point of view? When I was younger said I knew someone like you. And they said you don't want my love. You want satisfaction, yeah. You don't need my love. You have got to find yourself another. Piece of the action"

Slash leans over my shoulder now, glancing at the notebook. "Damn, man. This is good," he says. "You're gonna burn that girl up in this song."

I laugh, but there's no humor in it. There's a bite behind my words now.

The rest of the band watches as I finish the chorus:

"'Cause you're crazy, crazy. You're fucking crazy, oh my. You know you're crazy, oh child. I said you're crazy. Oh, you're crazy. You know you're crazy. Well, you're crazy. You know you're crazy, oh. You know you are. Bring it down, you're fuckin' crazy"

Izzy gives me a small nod, like he's seen it all before. "This is good. It's raw, it's real."

I put the pen down for a second, the fire still flickering in me. I don't know if I'm done yet, but I feel like I've tapped into something. Something that's always been there.

And maybe that's exactly what we needed—a reminder that we're not gonna let anyone mess with us. Not the crowd, not the world, not anyone who thinks they can just throw shit at us and get away with it.

We're gonna fight back. We're gonna sing about it.