[a/n: Hey, look, it's a bonus chapter! A long one at that too. I'm going to be including a few of these bonus chapters. They're not extremely vital to the plot of the story, however, they do offer some valuable context and insight. They're mostly flashbacks to the past and they can be pretty interesting. I think some of my bonus chapters are better than the actual chapters, but anyway. The point is that you don't have to read it, but I'm sure you might find it enjoyable. <3 ]
9 April, 1981.
It wasn't my first time on an airplane, but that didn't mean there was less of a possibility of me shitting myself. I gripped tightly at the arm of my chair and kept my head glued against the headrest. My eyes darted to the window every few seconds as my lunch climbed up my esophagus. The distance between the aircraft and the runway increased at a dangerous speed. That was always the part I feared the most - being able to visualize going up into the sky and being kept there by absolutely nothing except for engines and other mechanical mechanisms I didn't understand. To my side, Kirk was babbling about his amp that was stored in the cargo hull.
“Would you shut your mouth?” I finally snapped at him as we speared through the clouds, “your amp is fine. Jesus Christ, Kirk. I was the one who bubble wrapped it after all, while you sat there trying to wax your pubes with duct tape.”
He rolled his eyes at me and knocked my hand off the arm rest between us, claiming it into his own, “This shouldn't be freaking you out this much. Or is there an underground tunnel I don't know of that connects the mainland to Hawaii?”
Kirk always spoke of my family vacations to Maui with extreme contempt. It was either he really wanted to see the island too or he was upset about never having gone on a family trip in his life, or it just didn't sit well with him that his best friend lived a relatively comfortable life and didn't have to eat ramen noodles at the dining table on a Tuesday night.
“Yes, whatever, but those times I had Saldana to hold my hand.”
Kirk furrowed his brows like he was considering something, but then he just reclined in his seat, “Forget it, I'm not holding your hand.”
I turned to look at him with a big, amusing grin on my face, “I see someone's still in a pissy mood about getting beer poured out on his head by his best friends last night.”
My hand rested atop of his, because I didn't fear intimacy the way Kirk did. The last time my mother held me was just before I took my first steps. That deprived me of the closeness I now craved.
“I guess I just feel bad, y'know. I left those guys as if it was the easiest thing in the world for me, and Metallica might not even want me. I'm only now considering that I might bomb this audition. Then what?”
“Then I don't fly back to San Fran alone and you might feel more comfortable about holding my hand for the flight when that time comes around.”
He tried to hide his smile from me and I poked his dimple with my free hand. Kirk twisted his hand underneath mine so that our palms connected and he could slip his fingers between mine, indicating that he had no real qualms about holding my hand.
“But I am going to fly back alone, Kirk. And you're going to join Metallica.”
******
“Welcome to 'Tallica's humble abode!”
I stared down at the drummer who looked surprisingly confident in his grey plaid boxers, dirty socks and black bath robe. I didn't remember him being that short?
“It's a, uh... temporary arrangement,” he looked back on the rundown, dilapidated little structure that could hardly be called a home, and cringed before chuckling, “anyway, hello! You must be Dove!”
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27 bandshirts || a metallica fanfic
Fanfiction"I'm not the most natural person, Dove. The only time my hands know exactly what to do is when they're holding the body of a guitar. That was up until they had the opportunity to hold your body too. Kind of like a Stratocaster, every var...
