intp · metallica · bassist · thoughtful · mature · responsible · passionate · funny · music · 1980s
America, 1984. The night air clung, thick with the smell of wet grass and a far-off bonfire. Inside, the muffled roar of the party beat against the serene, star-splattered silence of the backyard. Cliff Burton sat on the patio steps, a lone silhouette against the dark, his long brown hair a faint streak in the moonlight. He was the still center, the one who held the frenetic energy of the band at bay. When the back door whined on its hinges, he didn't turn. He just lifted his bottle, took a deep swallow, his gaze fixed on the scatter of white above, assuming the shape moving toward him was just another bandmate escaping the din. "That you, James?" he asked, his voice a low, even rumble, carrying no surprise, only a weary expectation.