Short Stories

Lars Ulrich (Requested)

Requested by Layneaholic  I hope you like it!

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You had been close with the boys of Metallica since you were a little kid, you had met James in preschool.

Lars soon came into the picture as did the others while James tried to put together a 'band' and make his dreams of being a musician come true.

At the beginning Lars made you feel uncomfortable, he would stare at you all the time.  He was a bit weird.

It made you insecure, though he never said a word to you. That is, until that one time James ended up in the hospital and your awkward 13 year old self couldn't avoid him any longer.

You sprinted through the white sterile hallways of the hospital, nobody would tell you what was going on but you knew James was here.

He promised he'd never miss a day of walking to school with you unless something like this had happened. Your heart was racing a mile a minute as someone stopped you from going any farther.

"Y/N, hey!" Lars was his usual smily self and that was enough to piss you off.

"What's your problem Lars! James is in the hospital! What's wrong with him, is he alright? Please tell me he's alright!"

You were rambling now, Lars noticed you did that when things were bad. When you were anxious or scared.

"He's alright, only got a nasty punch in the face that's all."

You stared at him in disbelief 'only'. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you down into a chair next to him, "listen, James is fine. He'll be outta here soon enough and you can go back to your lovey-dovey ways."

Lars stared out the windows that gave a nice view of the miserable parking lot. You rolled your eyes, Lars thought you and James had something going on. Of course, because all best friends do, right?

You tapped your fingers on your thighs, it always calmed you down and of course- of course- Lars had to make you even more anxious by grabbing your hand.

"Y'know I can show you how to play, so you don't have all that nervous energy building up."

You stared at him in confusion, what was that supposed to mean?

"What are you talking about Lars?" You figured it was one of his stupid rants about a foreign game you'd never heard of.

"Drums." Oh. Lars was the drummer.

"Um, maybe," for some reason you liked how your hand fit in his. It made you feel warm inside, "I just— I have a lot of homework and chores. Perks of being an only child huh?"

Lars smiled slightly, nodding his head as the rain began to pour heavily.

"Whenever you feel like it, I'll be here."

Now. Three years later you wanted to learn how to play. You figured it might help you get over your nervous habit, it was worth a shot.

Of course, you knew nothing about the instrument and things were more awkward than they used to be.

Thanks a lot to Dave Mustaine, who had dared you to kiss Lars in ninth grade. It was awkward, but it wasn't awful.

James didn't walk to school with you anymore after moving houses and shutting himself away. You guys were still best friends, but not everything could stay the same.