Usually we were content with the guest room. It could easily be converted into a mini movie theatre by squishing all 5 of our bodies onto the extendable sleeper couch and Cliff installed old washing lines from wall to wall to make a convenient blanket fort set-up. However, on our last night together before the Damage, Inc tour resumed, we really didn't want to fall asleep to the sound of James's drunken snoring. Lars did sleepily put up a fight when we were about to ditch, just about begging his cuddle buddy to not let him sleep alone. But Kirk remained strong.
"Lars and I never got around to cutting his hair," we were sitting across from each other on my window sill, his one hand resting on my knee as I painted short strokes of black polish over his fingernails.
"Hopefully he forgets. He'll end up looking like a lesbian and will never hear the end of it from any of us."
I chuckled softly, distracted by my own concentration, "I cut your bangs. And James's. And y'all look completely fine."
"Just fine?"
Ending off the last fingernail allowed me to look up and catch his cool-guy-smirk. It made me snort. Most of the time he was as far from cool as they came, but his attempts were adorable and entertaining.
"Bisexual at best."
He faked a frown, but soon grinned at our humorous exchange. After sneaking a peck on my cheek to thank me for my beauty efforts, he smoothly hopped out of the window and onto the floor, missing the bed by an inch or two. I cautiously climbed out after him, having to cross my bed before I could get to the floor.
"Think we can put on some music or will your mom have a problem with that?"
"Not if you put it softly," I shrugged before lighting up a cigarette.
"Listen to music softly, eh?" His hesitation was short-lived and he made his way over to the desk where my gramophone stood, "well, there's a first time for everything, I guess."
Yeah, no shit. A co-writer of Master of Puppets listening to music on a low volume was pretty much unimaginable. A smile pulled at my lips as I watched his black fingernails flick through my small collection of vinyls.
"I doubt there's anything you'd like. My sister keeps nicking my rock 'n roll stuff."
Kirk's forehead wrinkled beneath the lightweight of his curls. He seemed to be reading one of the covers intently before raising it out of the pack.
"Get a load of this!" He showed it to me and my head tilted to the side.
"The Flamingos? You listen to The Flamingos?"
"Well, shit, not in the way I listen to UFO. But my mom loves this record."
He put the vinyl on and looked at the album cover again to check out the track listing, "there's at least one song on here I kinda dig..."
When he got the needle to find the song he wanted to hear, my face immediately cracked up into a massive grin. The introductory 'my love must be a kind of blind love' line made my eyes droop shut, savouring the sound of rhythmic blues and harmonic doo-wops.
"I can't see anyone but you," Kirk dramatically singing along to the followup lyric made my eyes stretch open again.
I continued to just look at him from across the room, puffing on my cigarette as the music altered the atmosphere. He seemed to feel it too, because he switched on the fairylights which lined the perimeter of my roof before switching off the main light. It had the same ambient energy as candlelight and this was definitely foreign territory for me. The floorboards suddenly felt cold beneath my bare feet. I was terribly new to this, to feeling special. The only consolation was that Kirk very obviously wasn't used to this either.
YOU ARE READING
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...
