Don't Tread On Me // Kirk Hammett

12. Breaking Away

May 4th, 1996

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We were all sitting in the small studio inside of James's basement, they had started coming up with new riffs and stuff for their new album.

James and Lars were urging me to come along. James said maybe I could help them come up with some riffs, which I doubt I'd actually do but it was convincing enough.

So now I was sat on a comfy black leather sofa, admirably watching them writing some songs. It was actually cool to see, they were all incredibly talented.

Well, Lars was a bit questionable.

I tried focusing on all of them, but I kept finding my attention drifting towards Kirk. Something about how invested he got in his guitar, was mesmerizing to me.

He's slowly started talking to me, more and more throughout the past week. After what James told me, it was all starting to click together. Somehow, some way, I was breaking away at his walls he'd put up.

The funny thing is I'd never meant to do it either.

I don't even know how I was doing it for that matter. I'm not sure why he so easily allowed it to happen either.

Honestly I wish mine came crumbling down as easily as his did, but mine were built taller and thicker.

They had started to slowly chip, no doubt. However something about getting closer with Kirk, and letting him in, scared the shit out of me.

I don't know what it was about him, but it was different from James.

I was suddenly disrupted from my thoughts, by James's obnoxious complaining.

"I need a fuckin' beer." He groaned, setting his guitar against the wall, and tiredly stomping up the stairs.

"You're such a fockin' baby, man! It wasn't even that bad!" Lars chanted, running up the stairs after James, Carelessly tossing his drumsticks aside.

I let out a breathy laugh as I watched the two disappear up the flight of stairs, I looked over to Jason who soon shrugged, and decided to follow.

Soon enough the only ones left in the basement, were Kirk and I. He looked up from his guitar, his big brown eyes fixated on me, giving me a gentle smile.

For the past two months, normally when he looks at me his gaze felt cold, and dismissing. Now it felt a lot softer.

Once we had been staring at each other for a little bit too long, Kirk finally cleared his throat abruptly.

"You think you could help me out with this riff? Y'know, since they all went upstairs." He questioned, his tone returning distant.

"Oh, sure." I muttered, lightly clearing my own throat.

He nodded, quickly pressing his lips into a thin line as he walked over to sit next to me on the couch.

He dipped the couch down, leaving no more than maybe an inch of space between us.

"Can you just tell me if it sounds alright, I'm just not sure about this one." He mumbled, clearly forcing an irritated tone.

I hummed in response, propping my elbow up on my knee, and resting my chin in the palm of my hand. I intently watched Kirk as I waited for him to begin.

He glanced over at me, a stone cold expression upon his face, before he started playing the riff.

I watched his fingers move up and down on the fretboard, partially zoning out until he finished.

"So?" He questioned abruptly.

I snapped my head to face him, my mouth slightly falling into and "o" shape as I realized I didn't hear his question.

"Was the damn riff, alright?" He questioned, heavily sighing.

"yea, I liked it a lot actually. Maybe just speed up the beginning of it a little bit." I smiled at him gently.

He didn't speak, he just stared into my eyes. His gaze re-softening, as a slight soft smile tugged on his lips.

We stayed like that for a moment, his face slowly inching towards mine, until our noses were almost touching.

I could feel his breath on my face, my heartbeat quickening more each second.

We gazed into each others eyes for another moment, until we heard footsteps rumbling down the hardwood stairs.

Kirk cleared his throat, bolting up off of the couch and walking back towards his previous seat.

Unfortunately for us, Kirk didn't sit down before Lars made it all the way down the stairs.

"What we're you two fockers doing?" He smirked, eyeing Kirk.

Kirk glared daggers back at Lars, giving him the 'You better shut the fuck up' type of look. Which instantly caught my attention.

James shortly came back down the stairs as well, picking up on the tension filling the room.

"What's going on down here?" James asked, growing confusion on his face.

Lars opened his mouth to speak, looking at Kirk who was staring back at him with pleading eyes. Lars sighed, firmly pressing his lips together before turning back to James.

"Nothin' just these two, at each others throats per usual." Lars shrugged, looking back over at a relief filled Kirk.

James shrugged it off and they picked back up where they'd originally left off.

The rest of the time they played, I caught Kirk periodically glancing over at me.

Our little moment on the couch was still fresh in my mind. I'm not exactly sure what that was, but it was a sledgehammer banging against my built up emotional walls.

Whatever that was, cracked the walls I'd worked so long to build, so high. My fear slowly creeping up on me.

I don't know what this mean't, but I knew for certain that I didn't hate him anymore. Not after that.

As much as I wish I could deny it to myself, I no longer hated him.

I didn't know wether, or not he felt that exact same way.

Actually I don't know what it was that I felt, but I knew that it wouldn't be long before my own walls came tumbling down.