Rock Imagines

This Was my Life (Dave Mustaine)

Dave Mustaine~Megadeth

I quietly hum as I putter around our bare home. I look out the window and a small content smile ghosts me face as I stare at the moonlight pouring in the dusty window.

Dave and I don't have much money, but we did muster up enough to pay for this little place for a few months anyways. It's not very big, and has been unoccupied for years, as its rumoured to be haunted. Apparently about ten years ago, an old woman died peacefully in here, its apparent that ghost aren't a huge selling feature. Anyways, we moved in earlier this week, and although we don't have much belongs, it's taken awhile for us to settle in, especially since Dave has had practice everyday since, and I've had to work everyday as well down at the shop. But finally, I've unpacked everything, and have made countless lists of things we need to get, although I'm not sure when.

Dave and I haven't really seen each other that much lately, the band, Metallica, practices from five until about one in the morning, my job starts at eight in the morning till five. If we manage to see each other after I'm finished work it's a quick kiss and a hi and that's it. Dave also sleeps in till about eleven so he's rarely awake when I get off to work. It's alright though, we manage.

I know he's drinking heavily, and partying, I mean practice shouldn't take eight hours. Plus, I've talked to Lars, he said they usually end around ten. There's also bottles laying around when I get home, and his clothes reek of alcohol. But I don't want to mention it, he's got quite the temper, I know he won't hit me, but I'm not in the mood to argue with him, so I just smile, and pretend like everything's okay.

I sit in the bay window, staring out into the busy streets below, and dreamily sigh. I watch the steam from my tea rise above the mug, and pet our kitten Wednesday. Leaning back, I rest my head on the wall and think of Dave. What are we going to do? I start to yawn, and decide I best be off to bed.

Walking across the cold hardwood, a shiver makes its way up my spine. Turning off all the lights, darkness makes its way into our home once again. Wiping the tears, I pull back the covers of our bed, and slip in. Wednesday comes, and curls up at the foot of the bed, and a I drift off.

Dave's P.O.V.
Fucking bullshit. They can't kick my out, fucking Metallica, what a stupid bunch of mother fuckers. I can't fucking believe this. James Hetfield can kiss my ass.

I grumble to myself, walking into the bar. I look over at the bartender, he gives s nod, and turns around to to pour me a shot. He knows. Handing it over to me, I nod, silently thanking him. Pressing the rim over the cool glass against my lips, I tip my head back, and it burns all the way down. I slide the shot glass over, and throw my hand up to the bartender, this is going to be fun night.

After awhile of constant alcohol, I hear laughter rings out, causing me to glance over my shoulder. Lo and behold Metallica.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," I mumble, sweat starting to percolate on my forehead under my hair. Throwing down some cash, I walk straight out the door. I brush shoulders with Lars, and could have hit him, but I didn't. Look at me go. I stumble down the stairs and down the pavement to my apartment. Squinting, the street lights seem a thousand times brighter than usual tonight, the noise, fuck, it's pounding in my ears. I walk up to the apartment building and I fumble around with the keys. I walk up to our room, and see the light peak out from under the door, fuck, Y/N. I creep inside, as quietly as I can, but who am I kidding, I'm drunk, I'm not fucking quiet. I grab a beer, and creep into our bedroom, and kick my shoes off in the corner and sit at the end of the bed, and toss the cap into the corner. I look over at Y/N, and she's sleeping so peacefully. Fuck, she's going to leave.

I've put her through so much bullshit, she's sacrificed so fucking much for me, for this apartment, and what do I do? Fucking lose my job. I'd leave me too, I'm a mess. I never see her anymore, too many parties. Too much alcohol, my life has just been a hungover blur. Wake up, go to practice, go to a bar, go to bed, and repeat. Fuck. I hate myself, I hate everything, everything but her, her and Wednesday, fuck she's a cute cat.

Soon enough, I'm a blubbering mess, I cover my eyes, and grip my beer bottle with my other hand.

"Dave? What's wrong?"

Your P.O.V.

I lay in bed, soon to be awoken, soft cries are to be heard. Rubbing my eyes, I shift around and see Dave sitting hunched over a bottle, stifling his cries.

"Dave?" I ask, he doesn't look over, just takes another sip, "what's wrong?" I sit up, I shuffle around, and squat in front of him. I look up at him and put my hands on his knees. "What's wrong hun?" I ask again. His eyes meet mine and he loses it he stands up and chucks the bottle at the wall behind us, causing me to jump. My heart rate increases a bit, but I remain as calm as possible. I stand up and place a hand on his shoulder. He spins around and pulls me into his arms. I'm taken back a bit by the suddenness of it all, but wrap my arms around him.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," He wails in a drunken state. I'm unsure of what to say, so I don't say much.

"For what Dave? For what?" I ask softly as he calms down and sobers up. I stays silent as we lay in bed. He grabs my hand and pulls it into his chest. "Dave, you're scaring me," I whisper. He looks up at me guiltily, and I take my other hand and wipe the tear from his eye.

"For everything Y/N. I the worst fucking person ever," he says after a moment of silence.

"No you're not love," I assure him. "But... I know you have a drinking problem," I mumble after a moment of silent debate.

"Do I really?" He asks quietly earning a small nod. "FUCK!" He yells, covering his face with his hands.

"I barely see you anymore Dave. I know practice doesn't go from five till one. Lars told me hun. There bottles and cans all around our apartment by time I get home from work. I want to see you more, but in a better state," I sigh.

"Well don't worry, I won't be a practice much anymore. Fucking James, the fuckwit he is kicked me out. He said something about drinking and partying or something or other, I don't know I was too drunk to comprehend what was going on. I don't know Y/N, but I'm sorry. I've been awful to you," he explains. I nod understandingly

"That's alright, I didn't like them much anyways," I lie. Dave lets out a short chuckle and a genuine smile.

"You're lying, Lars is you best friend," he hums, pulling me into his chest.

"Okay all of them but Lars. But don't worry Dave it'll work out, it just takes time," I hum into his chest. "Would get some help for your drinking?" I ask after a peaceful, prolonged silence. He doesn't say anything, but nods. "Perfect. You're simply perfect Mr. Mustaine. Hey! Why don't you start your own band my love?"

"You think so?" He asks and I nod vigorously. "Alright, I think I will! Megadeath? Is that's stupid name?"

"No. I like it, but take out the 'a' in death. It's more metal that's way," I laugh.

"What the fuck Y/N?" He asks to which I shrug.

"I love you Dave."

"I love you too Y/N. And thank you for everything you've done for me. Every little thing."

Fucking finally. Dudes. I'm sorry. I've been so busy with school and work and dance and volleyball, I don't have a lot of time. I'm basically doing something everyday of the week but Sunday. I've also been highly emotional lately and it's hard to function let alone wrote. But I did update and I hope you like it!