Hold On To Love || Kirk Hammett

Part 33- I'd Love To Take You

Bahahaha Kirk in the photo^^^

"Damn, baby girl. It's 9 in the morning." Kirk groaned, wrapping his arms around my waist and nuzzling his nose into my back.

These last few months have been a dream; living with Kirk was one of the best things that ever happened to me. Wake up next to him, his hair all ruffled up, and then spend the rest of our day playing guitar or cuddling up to a nice movie. I'd do anything to make these days last forever. 

And I'd be lying if I said we hadn't fucked on every counter, shower, and piece of furniture. Now that we got that out, having movie nights on Fridays, date nights on Sundays, and watching each other play gigs now and then were more than what I asked for. The tour made me forget how much I enjoyed being in his company, and now having him by my side 24/7, I never felt this much happier.

"I couldn't sleep." I smiled and switched the stove off, spinning around to face him. He had his hair up in a messy ponytail, his quirky glasses on, and wearing nothing except for a pair of red underwear.

I can still hear Ron saying, 'Are you sure he's straight?'

He glared at my record player, blaring 'One-way ticket' at max volume, "I didn't know you were into disco."

With the guys, our day starts at 9, blaring blues, soul, rock- whatever records we got our hands on and shaking the whole house up. We'd clean, cook, do our shit in the mornings; take a break during the day, then play our gigs, and get shitfaced at night. On the other hand, Kirk wasn't exactly very fond of my routine and preferred to sleep the day away and do his shit at night. Oh well, he'd get used to it eventually.

He grimaced as the chorus hit louder than anticipated, "Hungover?" I asked.

"No. Just too damn early." He yawned, kissing my forehead, "So you guys do this every morning?"

"Every damn day." I smiled when he groaned in annoyance, "You'll get used to it."

"Or I can fuck you so hard, you'll be tired in the morning?"

"Go shower." I laughed, pushing him away.

"Only if you join me." He smirked.

Of course, he'd ask that. I rolled my eyes, "I'll think about it."

"Yes!" He cheered and spun me around.

He picked up the record sleeve, furrowing his eyebrows at Precious Wilson, with beads in her hair, "South African band? Never heard of em."

I opened my eyes in shock, "You've never heard of Eruption?"

He shook his head, "It's British, and you are uncultured."

"Yea, yea, yea." He rolled his eyes and shook it off. His footsteps echoed off the tiles, and I was left alone, surrounded by nothing but my music.

I turned my attention back to my food, lazily flipping the toasted cheese over the pan.

"Savannah!" I heard a voice echo and a firm grip around my waist, spinning me around until I was dizzy.

"You fuckhead." I swore, pulling Ron into a tight hug, "I haven't seen you in weeks.

"I have so much to tell you," I said, pouring ourselves a shot.

"Me first." He took a deep breath before he emptied his glass in one go, "I'm leaving."

"To?" I asked skeptically, my gaze in his eyes.

"The band. I'm leaving the band."

No.

No. No. No. No. No.

"No," I heard myself say.

One moment. Two. And three. Ron takes a deep breath. Then a million more. Right hand over left, spinning the metal ring on his ring finger over and over and over and over.