80's Band Oneshots/ Imagines

Hold Me Close Pt. 6

The sound of cars passing down the highway drowned out the low murmuring of the tv as James sat on the window sill of his new hotel room that night, watching the skyline. It had been a long day on the road and James didn't even know where they were anymore, Ontario still, probably. The radio towers he could see in the distance blinked with soft red lights, reminding James of a Christmas tree. Merry fucking Christmas to him I guess, because this was all he was going to get.

He never liked Christmas anyways, after his mother passed he usually spent it with one of his brothers and his sister. But after ride the lightning it became less likely James would make it home for the holidays, and for the past two years, he had just spent it with the guys.

His jaw clenched at the thought of his first Christmas without Cliff. It fucking gnawed at him, like an itch that wouldn't go away. He squeezed his eyes shut and twirled the silver skull ring on his finger.

There was no lump in his throat that warned him of the tears, they just fell silently and quickly from in between his lashes, hitting the carpet below with a soft pip sound.

It's not like they sat around a Christmas tree opening presents or anything, more getting wasted and Christmas party hopping along whatever neighbourhood they found themselves in. But sure, there would inevitably be shitty, newspaper wrapped gifts discretely exchanged, usually accompanied by a noogie or a shove. They were usually new albums, notebooks, booze, Cliff even got James new trucks for his skateboard last year. He remembered how he had pawned one of his record players for them.

The thought sent a stinging through the singer's throat and he buried his head in his arms, gripping at his frayed blonde locks.

"Merry Christmas fucker" he could hear the distant echo of Cliff's voice as if wafting with the breeze of the open window next to him. The low chuckle and sincerity in his voice when he had said it. Guys being guys, that was as real as they would get with each other, but James saw it in Cliff's eyes as he watched the singer tear open the old show box. I love you, man. They never had to say it. They knew. James was scared of forgetting these moments, slipping away, there but unable to touch or hold.

He wanted it back, he wanted it all back.

His mind wandered to Jason, and his dream from the previous night. It was different that time. Cliff was still gone, but Jason was too. He couldn't see how he died, just that it was now known as the Metallica curse, they destroyed any bassist they touched. They brought them in, then they killed them.

James didn't want to lose Jason either, not figuratively or literally. He stood up. His heart was heavy and he was still spinning the ring on his finger, cheeks wet with tears.

--------------------------

Jason sat in the bar of the hotel, watching a drop of condensation roll down the side of his glass onto the countertop.

The bus ride had been quiet, as if everyone was in their own heads, unable to comprehend anything else around them. He didn't know why the fuck Lars and Kirk were so distracted, shooting looks to each other that Jason pretended not to see.

When he had finally snuck away to his bunk, it was definitely not because he was too scared to face James.

He thought James would have been mad he snuck away so early that morning before he woke up. Or that he would have come to his senses and beat the hell out of him right there in front of everyone for being a fag.

But he did neither. As he said, things were quiet. Something was hanging in the air, other than smoke for a change.

He knew he was living in a fantasy, and this was no fairytale. It's not like the mighty Hetfield was interested in him past a quick fuck, and getting involved would just leave him hurt. Then there was kirk, sweet kirk, funny kirk, innocent kirk with those big brown eyes and gapped tooth smile.

Jason flicked at his glass, still not drinking. He could feel his hands shaking. His anxiety flooded its way into his system.

He needed to figure this shit out. He needed to talk to James. No, he needed to talk to kirk about James. No, he needed to talk to James about Kirk AND James. Fuck. fuck fuck fuck fuck.

He longed to know what went on behind those cruelly blue eyes. James had finally lowered his walls around Jason, that should be enough, right? Enough to know what the fuck they were doing. How James felt about him.

And right then Jason was back to being a fan, another faceless body in the audience, watching James as if he were a god. The pedestals Jason had the guys on were finally starting to go away, and now it felt James was up so high he couldn't even reach him.

Why did it terrify him? Last night James was more than happy to have his tongue down Jason's throat, and now he was scared to ask if he really liked him?

This shouldn't be this hard... right?

"Are you actually going to drink that?" Jason lifted his head as Kirk sat down beside him, signaling to the bartender before turning towards him.

"Thinking about it"

"Are you alright? You seem out of it today" The brunette raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah I'm fine" he shrugged.

"Jase, you've been avoiding me since the showers. Did I overstep or something?"

"No no, god, I just" Jason dropped his face into his hand "I've had a lot on my mind lately sorry"

"It's fine, why don't we just go chill and watch a movie in my room? Where the beers don't cost an arm and leg" He showed off his crooked teeth in a smile and Jason had to chuckle

"Sure" The two men stood up and walked over to the elevators

"Is it something you want to talk about?" Kirk probed. Jason shrugged and tried to think of a lie but failed.

"I'd be really grateful if we could just not talk about anything for a while"

"I'm totally fine with that" In a moment Kirk crossed the space between them and had Jason in a liplock, pinned against the button keypad for the elevator.

The very elevator that opened with a ding before Jason could even react.

Even worse, when the doors opened and out stepped their lead singer, nowhere to look but at his two bandmates squished together against the wall.

Well, he had found Jason, and now he wished he hadn't.

Kirk pulled back and looked at James, casually unphased.

"Hey man, what's up," he said, hands still on Jason's chest. But James wasn't looking at Kirk, he and Jason were seemingly locked in a staring contest. Jason's eyes were wide, he looked like he was about to say something.

James on the other hand had no feasible expression on his face, but his jaw was clenched tight.

"James-" Jason started but was abruptly cut off

"The bar this way?" James asked. Kirk nodded.

James shot Jason one more look before disappearing down the hallway without looking back.