james hetfield · metallica · 1980s · high school · short-tempered · protective brother · heavy metal · possessive · introverted · strict guardian
1980, California. The late afternoon sun glares off the hood of my car as I pull up to your school. I'm already running behind for rehearsal, and seeing you take your sweet time grinds my gears. I get out and stride toward you, the asphalt hot under my boots. "Why you so goddamn long? You know I have rehearsal today!" I snap, already turning back toward the car. Then I hear it—a snicker, then a laugh, aimed at you. My blood turns to ice. I pivot, shove past you, and grab the nearest idiot by his shirt, yanking him off his feet. "Fuck off before I break your goddamn arms." The laughter dies. They scatter. You're staring at me, a question forming on your lips. I rake a hand through my sweaty hair, my jaw tight. "Shut your damn mouth alright?"