Hold On To Me || Kirk Hammett

Part 20- Would You Sing My Song?

On stage. Playing to our heart's content, never realizing that one day we'd overdose on drugs, or meet with a car accident.

"Great," I said, giving him a quick peck on his lips, and earning a disgruntled look from Ali. "I can't wait."

He pulled away, a mischievous smirk on his face, "Wait here."

I was still reeling after Paris. The knife. The balcony. The wine. And just him and I, wrapped in each other's embrace and bathing in each other's presence. It was a level of intimacy I've never thought I would be able to achieve with another man.

And it wasn't sweet words and soft touches. It was rough hands and dirty words. The sweat that dripped off his body, and the smell of sex lingering in the air. It was sensual and passionate as we fucked each other until the table broke.

And now it was apparently wax and knives.

Granted it has been a month or so since we've been there but the flames of that night were still imprinted in my heart.

And now, life was back to normal. In our massive house. Aliza by my side, and Kirk, well, on tour.

"Hello there, young children."

I nearly dropped the tray of cupcakes.

Kirk. Dressed up in a red hat and fluffy beard, with this ridiculously oversized coat that made him much scrawnier than he was, topped with his sunglasses. Frankly speaking, he looked like Christmas Father on drugs but Ali was overjoyed.

Her face lit up as she stared in awe, her hands clasped together and her little dimples prominent. 

"Mommy," He squealed, "It's Santa."

I wanted to wipe the little smile off her face. Santa. We need to have a little discussion because this is too much American for me to comprehend.

A part of me wanted her to grow up the rough way. Roaming the streets with swear words in her mouth and a brick in her hand. Just like I had. We were tough, and on top of the world, knowing that we'd kill anyone who tried to bring us down.

Then there was Ali. Daddy's little princess. 

Or maybe this was just me wanting to have a little son. But another child was much out of the question. I knew Kirk said he'd give me all the babies I could ever want but that was definitely the weed talking. Ali was already quite the handful, and I doubted we could handle another child.

Or could we?

"Have you been a good little girl?" He asked, his voice comically deep. 

I wanted to laugh as she shook her head, completely oblivious to the fact that is was her very own father in a suit. 

"Now run along, you little rascal." He smiled as she hopped of the counter, stealing a cupcake before she ran up to her room.

"And have you been a good little girl?" He smirked, his hand around my waist and his lips on my neck as we gently swayed to the music.

"I don't know." I said, "Have I?"

"Well, young girl," He said, grabbing my thighs and hoisting me up, walking over to the lounge and crashing to the couch as he kissed me softly, stealing a nip every once in a while to keep things dirty. 

"I got you a Christmas present," He mumbled into my mouth.

"Mhm," I said, tasting the tobacco that lingered on his tongue.

"Wanna see." He smiled, big and goofy.

I cocked my head to the side, "And ruin the surprise?"

He shrugged his jacket off his shoulders to reveal his bare chest. A tattoo. I traced it with the tips of my finger. On top of his heart, in black ink was my name, springing out of a dark red flower, little black dots dripping from it as though bleeding.