desolated | metallica

ii

james' perspective.

he remembered the boisterous crowd in front of him, the weight strapped across his torso, the pressure of little indents digging into his finger tips. he remembered the amplifying vibrations rippling through the solid ground, the rushing adrenaline coursing through his veins.

music blared, and fingers moved along the fretboard. glistening sweat flew from his golden mane as he growled into the microphone.

as usual, he was having the time of his life.

however, something drew his attention from the crowd that night. to his right, he spotted a wild mop of tousled auburn curls. that moment, he was mesmerised by the way it bounces, and the way its owner bounces along the rhythm too. he smiled at the sight.

it wasn't until his gaze collide with a pair of pale blue eyes that he realised he had been gawking, but who wouldn't when they see such beauty in front of them?

how could ones' eyes sparkle with millions of stars? he would never know. how could one's smile be so dopey and so sweet? he would never know. how could one still be so determined after all the pain he had caused? that, he felt ashamed.

he was so bewitched by the sight of the angel before him that he felt something wasn't quite right. he stared to notice little details - the bleariness appearing in pale blue eyes, the lovely shade of red sitting across pale face, and the grip relaxing from instrument. he was probably imaging things, he thought, but his suspicion was confirmed when the bassist suddenly went limp.

he remembered the panic he felt as he sprinted to his right, catching the boy in his arms. though he can't hear himself, he knew he was calling the boy by his name - his real name.

his surrounding muted into a quiet buzz when the boy slowly fluttered his eyes open. the fallen angel gave him a soft smile and said,

'you have... the most beautiful eyes, james.'

with that, the boy fell into the spell of unconsciousness.