In which Dave Mustaine entertains an enemies-to-lovers relationship with a talented guitarist, one of his former band's member sister.
↳ TW: mention of S.A. and substance abuse
↳ favoring chapters helps me a lot!
Started: 10/01/2023
Finished: 05/05...
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The engine of Dave's old car roared as we sped down the familiar streets, the wind playing with our hair as if it were dancing to the tunes on the radio. "Nice chain," he teased, leaning closer to me, and I grinned mischievously, pulling him playfully by the silver chain around his neck, adorned with an ornate cross. In that fleeting moment, our eyes locked, and I couldn't help but notice the similarity between his chain and mine.
"Can say the same about you, Mustaine," I retorted, tugging on his chain gently, bringing us impossibly closer. He tried to hold my gaze, but it was evident he was a bit flustered. For once, I had caught him off guard.
"Do you have everything you need, princess?" Dave quipped as I clicked my seatbelt on, pretending to gag in response.
"Don't ever call me that again," I playfully scolded, pinching his cheek with a smirk.
"Just asking. Rude," he muttered under his breath, focusing on the road ahead. As we drove, "Rainbow in the Dark" by Dio came on the radio, and I turned up the volume, immersing ourselves in the music.
When we arrived at the party, the energy in the air was palpable. Dave immediately went to greet the guest of honor, Slash, for his birthday, while I hung back, feeling a mix of excitement and intimidation in the presence of the legendary guitarist. His warm smile, though, put me at ease as I mustered the courage to wish him a happy birthday. To my surprise, he thanked me for coming, making me feel honored to be invited.
Spotting Heather, along with Lorraine and Beth, the girlfriends of the other band members. We instantly clicked, laughing and sharing stories as the night began to unfold.
While Heather was in the middle of telling us a hilarious tale involving a drunk Tommy at a family dinner, Metallica's arrival caught my attention. I waved at the guys, and James responded with a toothy grin. Seizing the opportunity, I approached the group, forming a small circle with them.
Lars started explaining some obscure tennis rules to prove a point to Cliff, while James and I chatted about the new drive-in movie theater downtown.
Suddenly, I felt the jean jacket I wore over my shoulders slip off. I turned around to find Dave holding it, looking completely intoxicated. His cheeks were flushed, and his goofy grin didn't inspire much confidence in his sobriety.
"Dave, give it back," I demanded, trying to take the jacket from him, but he laughed and held it out of my reach, teasing me like a child.
That jacket meant the world to me. It was my personalized battle jacket, a companion through thick and thin since my teenage years. It offered comfort during stressful times and held countless memories that no amount of money could replace.
"Need some help getting it back?" James chimed in, unimpressed with Dave's antics.
"Nah, I got this," I replied with determination. I chased Dave around the house, laughter mingling with my frustration. He was quick, but I was relentless, refusing to let him get away with my cherished jacket.
