𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞(𝐞𝐝) 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬.

°Brian 15°

A/n: hi! It's been too long and I apologize for that. I've lost motivation for this book, but wanted to give you this chapter. I gave up on my previous Keith imagine and don't have the second part because welp I'm not into it anymore. Sorry about that, but hopefully you like this one. It's new for the style of this book, but I like it and regret not putting as much thought into my others. Anyway, I'll leave you to judge. :)
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Cigarette?
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All you wished for was some peace. Was that too much to ask for? Being the hottest sensation around the world was unsatisfing for you. At first it seemed like the most glamorous title in the world. Being important. Being loved. Being a somebody.

But what was it all worth in the end? So you hung around with some other somebody's of the world, fucked a few rockstars, got high and happy, but the pleasure faded soon after and you fell into your self pity and loathing.

You pulled up to the massive party. Were helped out of the car, like always, and began to walk to the entrance. Of course you had to go out in your finest dreads, it was the law. The law to wear tight dresses and skirts, trousers that hugged your hips too much, tops that flared and had funk.

But right now, you'd rather just be in your pajamas, or something a little less eye catching. It was a blur of colorful scarves, shoes with too many buckles and straps, hats of all colors and textures.

Fashion was your passion, it was your career of course, but sometimes you needed a break.

Taking a deep breath, you put on your serious expression, and lowered your hat a little. Opening the fancy front door, all eyes turned to you. "Someone taking coats?" you asked in a delicate tone. Someone scurried over and took your jacket.

The music was loud, the atmosphere was crowded and jazzed, whoever was throwing this big shindig was somebody "special". You walked in a little more, your psychedelic dreads flowing graciously and glistening almost in the light.

In the next room, a large table was set up with familiar faces. Stones, Beatles, Nico, Faithfull, Pallenberg, Warhol, the whole fucking lot of glamor it seemed. "She's here." someone told the tripped out table.

"An honor to meet you!" Anita Pallenberg stood up and shook your hand. Honestly, you hated her, but had to break a rib to keep your smile on. "I'm not a saint, please, have a seat." you told her in your gentle tone.

She grinned and sat next to Brian Jones, him giving you this sort of arrogant glare, putting his arm around the woman.

So he wanted to play that game? I didn't have the energy or patience. I fucked whoever I felt like, I didn't have some publicized shit. I was my own woman, a groupie if you will.

"Give this woman a fuckin seat, Christ." Mick snapped his fingers at some waitress. I felt bad,"No worries miss, it's no problem." I was the one who at least had some manners. She quickly got me a chair and I sat down at the table of rockstars and muses.

Brian Jones still had that glare, practically hugging Anita to him. She shoved him away a little and I could tell that hurt him, but he desperately tried to hide it. He downed another drink, I stuck to club soda.

"Get yerself good and toasted on yer soda then?" Keith snickered. "How bout I shove that fucking nose up your little ass?" I remarked. He cleared his throat,"I think it's refreshing! Skipping some drinks." Anita smiled. Fuck her, she was a well known addict.

Me, I'd been down that route. I've been trying to sober up recently, it's hard, but I want to better myself. "Like your hat." Brian finally spoke up. I nodded,"thank you."

I sat through shit conversations, everyone was floating and going on about nonsense. One stayed sober, oddly. Brian, he passed on whatever they were sniffing or smoking, and sipped his drink, focasing on something across the room.

He turned to me out of the blue,"cigarette?" he asked, and pulled two out of the pack in his pocket. I nodded and got my lighter. I lit his, then mine, and we sat back, thoughts rushing through both our heads.

Brian, to me, was fragile. I'd seen him before, met him once or twice, and he was gifted, truly. But one wrong move, and snap.. Brian Jones broke. He and Anita used each other, both were different. It was all just for looks, drugs, and money that they put up with each other.

It was evident by the way they looked at one another. Nothing but coldness. She was chatting with Marianne and Keith, Brian simply overlooking the fun they were having. Honestly, it made you feel sorry for the lad... I didn't know him very well, but I genuinely felt bad for the way he got treated.

"Come with me." the blonde stood up and walked like a king to the restrooms. I shrugged and followed his luxurious path.

I went in and someone pushed me up against the wall. I shoved them off and noticed it was Brian. "Ow." he muttered. "Sorry, just caught off guard." I explained. "You don't like me, I can tell." he told me. "Don't be like that. I haven't even spoken a word to you." I shook my head and fixed my hat in the mirror.

"How come you don't drink?","Because I don't get the thrill like others. I've had my share of thrills, and I just want to be at peace sometimes." I frowned, not really in the mood to chat.

"Listen, you wanna fuck me? Is that what you want out of this devine chat?" I impatiently asked.

"I understand how you feel. I'm spinning right now. I can't feel anything. I prefer it that way, makes my life easier. I'm not happy, and this.. this makes me numb. I'd rather feel nothing, than feel something..." he simply adjusted his shirt, not really caring about his words.

"You're broken." I stated. "I guess I am." he replied, a lost look in his eyes.

We stood there in a long silence, only the chatter of the music and people still going. Though it felt like another world out there.

"Cigarette?" he offered.