Metallica Imagines

Night Comes Down (Lars)

Okay, okay. This was requested, my first time doing something like that. Hopefully it's pleasing for whoever's reading.
The setup is weird; Metallica is a garage band right now, all seniors in high school. But they dress like they did during the RtL era. If that makes sense. I swear I have an obsession with that era, lmfao. Jeez I gave everyone but Lars hella minor roles 🥺 (P.S. this story has little to no logic so yes it won't make sense the more you read it)
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It's a Friday night. You, Lars and the rest of the gang are hanging at Kirk's, binging horror movies with a shit ton of pizza and beer.

Kirk was the only one enthusiastic about watching Dracula for the umpteenth time, knowing every last line by heart.

James was in a recliner, scarfing one beer after another down while Cliff was on a recliner adjacent to the other, smoking a blunt just in his own dimension. He tried to grasp the air with his huge hands as if it was tangible, laughing every time.

You and Lars, of course, were sitting on the couch with Kirk, noticeably close to one another. Lars had been your closest guy friend since you had moved to California to finish high school. Almost everything about him fascinated you; his Danish accent and pronunciation, the fact he was highly opinionated (and with that, came a big mouth), a prankster but he was really passionate about the things he loved, like tennis and art, and not to mention the fact he was a drummer. That's hot. You both bonded over the mutual love for British punk music, abstract art and reading huge novels that honestly nobody else could get past the first two chapters of.

With the time you spent getting to know him more, the feelings blossomed as well. You thought Lars was possibly the most handsome piece of work ever. Those honest emerald eyes, the gap in his front teeth that revealed itself whenever he got excited and his beautiful brown hair that blew in the wind. Lars liked you too, his friends made it obvious whenever you were around. You guys just don't know how to express it to one another, but tonight the dynamics would change.

Lars eventually wrapped an arm around you, allowing you to rest your head on his warm chest. The comfort you received from the rising and fall of it was heavenly, but this was a usual thing he did with you, seeing it as pretty platonic.

James passed out from all the alcohol, so did Cliff from talking his ass off about how the government was corrupt and how we're all just puppets to the system (😏). Kirk had stopped reciting lines and eventually grew bored.

"Hey guys, I'm gonna go on a snack run, though I don't think there's much need for that," he glanced over at the other two, tonight must've been really exciting for them. Kirk rolled his eyes, grabbed his jacket and keys, then made his way to the corner store.

Lars pecked your nose with a soft kiss, a cue for you to meet his hazy gaze.

"Lars, what was that for, ya chump?"

He smiled. Oh god, it was so precious.

"Nothin'. I guess I just like you, silly."

You blushed in return. All the words you were trying to form choked up in your throat, only allowing your mouth to open as a sudden response.

That's when Lars takes your wrist and suggests you guys should just go to bed here for the night.

"But Lars, your house is literally 15 minutes aw-", you were cut off by the instant swift off of your feet and into his arms. What the hell, huh?

You giggled, trying to hide a stringent mix of embarrassment and pleasing validation.

He placed you gently on the bed of the guest room, shutting the door quietly. Neither of you bothered to turn on any lights, so Lars just crawled onto the bed next to you.