Whole Lotta Love || A Rockstar Imagine Book

James Hetfield || Sick [AU]

Cliff glanced the piece, closing his locker as he observed, "It isn't that bad, man. You're beating yourself up."

"I can't do this, Cliff. I can't express myself through art—I do that through music. I can't draw for shit and I'm still pissed the counselors put me in that class," James rambled to his denim-clad best friend.

"I'm telling you, dude. Stop beating yourself up, you're gonna ruin your whole day like that," Cliff responded.

James shrugged it off, closing his locker, heading down the hall to look for Kirk and Lars before the first period.

—-

"Good morning everyone, I'm assuming we're all ready for today's critique?" Mrs. Matthews questioned, giving a smile to the class of sleepy or panicked teens.

James shied away from his teacher's gaze, trying to hide his assignment with his arms. The project wasn't a literal self-portrait unless you wanted to do that. Instead, James decided to make a collage of things that represented him. He'd never admit it, but he had spent a fair share of time on this thing—cutting up his metal magazines, pictures from that new magazine Thrasher, and anything else he could think of.

"Nice to you to join us, Ms. [Surname]," Mrs. Matthews commented, noticing the tardy girl walking in a few minutes late.

[Name] had rosy cheeks, a bright red nose, and her hair was disheveled. It was clear she came running from outside. James has always found the girl, who was his seat partner, a bit enigmatic and strange.

She pulled her seat out, sitting beside James, placing her portfolio on the desk. She didn't mutter a hello to anyone, or an apology for being late. In fact, James wasn't even sure he had ever heard her before.

[Name] was odd, standoffish, but intriguing, and there was no denying she wasn't a talented artist. James was a bit curious to see what she did. He would be lying if he hasn't peeked at her in the process of doing art before.

This project was a complete mystery though.

The class began the critique with students walking around the room, observing each other's art. James felt a bit distressed at leaving his collage out for everyone to see but he had no choice. He already had a low B in the class and he wasn't risking going down to a C. He's already failing English, so the last thing he needed was to fail art—out of all things—too.

As everyone walked around the room, James lingered at his desk, waiting for [Name] to pull her piece out. It felt like the world was in slow motion for two seconds as the girl's fragile hand's unzipped the portfolio. What the girl pulled out was nothing he had ever expected.

Mixed mediums—charcoal and watercolors. All cool colors too. James wasn't too sure how the girl managed to make watercolor coexist with charcoal but it was magnificent. However, he never felt so aghast before.

[Name]'s self-portrait was terrifying. It displayed a girl ripping herself out of a scrawny, dark

bone-like creature. It looked awesome, almost like a cover out of Kirk's horror magazines. The awe ended as soon as James remembered this was a self-portrait and not a comic cover.

James didn't forget the piece, even after the critique was long over and as the school day gradually went on. Even as he bullshitted around with his bandmates, skateboarded around Lars's garage, James couldn't rip the image away from his kind. All he wanted to know was: who is [Name]? Why does she see herself that way?

James was sure he wasn't the only one who wondered that. The girl was vague to explain her piece, but it was enough for Mrs. Matthews to talk to her after class.