80's Band Oneshots/ Imagines

Cliff Burton - Pt 1

I'm not sure what they were fighting about, nor did I really care. I took a long drag of my smoke as I leaned against my truck in the school parking lot, waiting for the rest of the guys. They were no doubt somewhere in the crowd of people also watching the two boys beating the shit out of each other. It was technically after school hours, so the teachers had deniability they used as an excuse to not intervene. I watched as the larger blonde one delivered a gnarly punch to the other one's stomach. He toppled over and hit the pavement, his glasses falling off. Just when I thought he was down he lunged towards the blonde's middle and tackled him to the ground. I rolled my eyes and dropped my cigarette butt onto the pavement, crushing it under the heel of my boot. I slid into the driver's seat and picked up one of my cassettes. Fuckin Black Sabbath. As I started it into the cassette player the truck doors swung open and the boys fell in. James in the front seat with Lars and Kirk in the back. They were talking about the fight. James in particular was still giddy and bet that the blonde kid had a concussion after that hit. He was mostly directing his chatter to Lars and I, as Kirk was staring down into his notebook, not paying attention.

"What a way to end a friday" I chuckled.

"Are we going back to your place?" James asked me.

"We better, my mom is cooking for seven again"

"She always does, though" Lars chipped in. I looked at James out of my peripherals. It was true, my mom always had an extra plate set aside for James. Just in case he didn't get a hot meal at home. His brother did the best he could to provide for them both, and James worked his ass off at the gas station, but sometimes home cooked meals were rare at the Hetfield household. Since then and with Lars and Kirk hanging around almost every night for band practice, she always keeps some set aside for them. It's not that Lars and Kirk couldn't eat at home, their homelife was a breeze compared to James's, they were just freeloaders, but in a nice way.

We sat in my basement, mostly talking and drinking beer. This was what usually happened during band practice, we would start off practicing our cover songs but eventually get distracted and slowly drift from our instruments. Lars pulled out a bottle of coors from the cooler and grunted. He shook the box, the sound of the half melted ice rattled around inside.

"All out"

"Not it" James said without missing a beat and touched his nose. Kirk jumped and did the same.

"Haha, Cliff" Kirk pointed at me.

"I went last time" I protested.

"Fine then, gimme your keys" James said with a devilish grin, knowing I would never let him drive my truck. I paused for a moment, lips pursed, before picking up the empty six pack at my feet and throwing it at him. He swatted it away as I stood and dusted off my jeans.

"You guys suck" I grumbled. I collected the beer money from each of them, only a few bucks each, and headed out towards my truck.

It was dark now, a warm, clear night with the smell of rain still lingering from this morning. I drove to the nearest corner store with the windows rolled down, having switched my black sabbath cassette for motorhead. I pulled into the small, dimly lit lot and pulled up to the front, eyeing the slightly shady guy smoking a cigarette out front. I never trusted anyone who wore sunglasses at night.

With the money from the guys I another six pack of beer and a bottle of vodka. As I was browsing the candy selection I briefly looked up and caught a glance of the only other person in the store. A girl, what seemed like my age, give or take, in an ankle length black leather jacket, black combat boots over fishnets and wearing a dark blue dress. She had sleek dyed black hair tied up behind her and black bangs. Her black septum ring swung slightly as she looked at the sodas and her eyes looked cool in the black eyeliner that was sharply drawn around her dark eyes. It was quite a look for a late night snack run. I could hear the clinking of her chain belt and the matching necklaces she wore. She caught my eye for barely a second before returning her attention to what she was doing. I mean I knew about the punk scene, especially in the metal community to which I was apart of, so her look didn't scare me as much as it would others. Instead I watched her with slight fascination, only for a few seconds of course, I'm not creepy.