Metallica Imagines

Meetin' You (James/Lars)

Sorry for the corny title I don't put much thought into this shit. Brooo this is so inaccurate because of the simple fact half of this goes out of James' natural character but oh well. I felt really bored and wanted to write something else so in case I go inactive no one can say I didn't write enough. Also lmao I was listening to Iron Maiden whilst writing so I was in the Z O N E.

This is set (horribly and inaccurately) around 1981, when James and Lars meet but I obviously made the story a lot different. Yuh
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Though the ad in the newspaper seemed a bit odd and he had his doubts, James was partially convinced this whole band thing was genuine. The guy he spoke on the phone with had an accent, obviously European. He said his name was Lars and that he'd love to meet James in person to get to know one another more.

James pulled up to the street where the house resided. It was really nice, the structure of the building gave off upper class vibes. Scoff. This kid has gotta be some privileged snob, some brat or something.

He grabbed his guitar from the trunk of the truck and proceeded to the front door. He knocked firmly, looking around at the surrounding homes. This neighborhood's really nice looking. Can't believe I live on the other side of town.

Minutes went by. Maybe I should just go back home. What's taking this guy so long? Was he bullshitting or something? Just as James was ready to make up his mind and go back, he was greeted by a slightly shorter brunette, with a pure smile and huge green eyes. He kinda resembled a dainty girl. Real cute.

"Oh, uh, are you Lars?" This took him by surprise just slightly, James was a still a shy kid so he spoke in a soft voice.

"Yep! You're James, of course."

He nodded. The blonde boy ran his fingers through his hair, not really having much to say.

Lars pointed to his instrument. "Wicked guitar, dude."

That's when James noticed he had his guitar, as if he forgot it was even in his hand in the first place.

"Huh? Oh, thanks, heh."

"Well, come on in. We can't just stand here and look like idiots, neighbors might think I'm more of a weirdo than I already let on."

The two entered the house and instantly James was captivated, I guess you could say. Art pieces everywhere, the kitchen was a mess and Black Sabbath blasted through the speakers in the living room.

"Nice place you got here," he set his guitar down against the couch. "And you like Black Sabbath? Cool!" It hadn't even been five minutes and this guy already brought a bit of energy out of James.

Lars was at the fridge and grabbed two beers. He didn't seem to be bothered by the fact his double sink was overflowing with dirty dishes and the trash hadn't been taken out yet. How can someone have such a nice house yet still be so lazy, one could wonder.

"Thanks. Actually this is a place my parents brought a while ago. They're up in Denmark for the week on a business trip of some sort. So, I run the castle."

"Denmark? How come?"

Lars laughed. "I'm Danish. Couldn't ya tell from the accent?" He made his way to the living room and passed James a beer then sat on the carpeted floor.

James shook his head and contorted his face to show apparent confusion. "I figured you weren't American, at least. But that's cool, dude."

For a few minutes they just listened to the Black Sabbath vinyl playing and chugged down the beers. Conversation started to rise as Lars asked a question that was well overdue.