fade to black | james hetfield [1]

eight

chapter eight: what the future holds

Iris felt like the worst person in the entire world. She never meant to make James feel like he couldn't speak up, but now she wanted to know what he had to say.

"What do you mean by that?" Iris asks, her voice softer than it was.

James sat there quietly, looking at the floor. He didn't want to have this conversation right now. He didn't like opening up to people, it always brought back unwanted feelings that would mess with him.

"Iris, the point is, you're not alone, okay?" He says, trying to dodge the question. "I have the band now, and let's just say that's been my saving grace."

Iris nodded her head, not wanting to intrude on his life. Maybe later on down the line, she would be able to know more about him, but she wouldn't pressure him. 

"Well your band is really talented, I can tell you put a lot of effort into it," Iris said, trying to change the subject. "I didn't think you were so well known." She slightly chuckled. It was the truth, she had never heard of Metallica before.

James chuckled slightly and shrugged. "Yeah, we're getting up there," He starts. "The show had a huge turnout. Hopefully things don't stay that way. I think we can do bigger places." James bragged, a slight smirk on his face.

She could already see it. In a couple of years, they would be everywhere, and she would have the bragging right of having been able to watch them in the corner of a shitty dive bar while giving themselves whiplash from headbanging so hard.

"Do you have any plans for the future?" James asks, wanting to shift the conversation away from him.

"I'm looking forward to dying, I guess." Iris replied, causing James to chuckle a bit. She looked serious when she said it, which left him wondering if she meant that as a joke or not.

He shook his head. "Come on, there has to be something you want to do other than that." James looked over at her, genuinely interested in what she would want to do.

Iris sighed. "Fine," She looked down. "I like to do art. I'm not confident enough to show it to the public yet, but someday, I would like to." Iris explained, twiddling with her fingers nervously.

"See? That's not so bad." James encouraged her.

"I guess," She spoke. "There's not many places around here that'll give me the chance to show it the way I want to. That's also kind of why I want to run away from here." She spoke quietly.

These were things that Iris never got to tell anyone before. No one cared for her dreams and aspirations, only when she would decide to call it quits on this life. James knew what that was like.

"I ran away from home too," James spoke up. "I regretted it at first, but now, I'm glad I did it." Iris wasn't going to press on why and how he did it. But it felt nice knowing that she wasn't the only outsider in this place.

"I would like to move to a big city," She started. "A place where people won't act like I'm a parasite, you know? Where I can just be myself and never have to worry if people think I'm good enough or not..."

Her voice trailed off, her mind reminiscing all the times she saw the same people giving her dirty looks over and over again. She closed her eyes, her face showing the years of torment she suffered as a result.

She was not only made to feel like an outsider, but almost made to be less than human. No one acknowledged her presence, treating her as if she were invisible. Some days she wondered if she was a mistake.

James could see the pain etched into her face and he couldn't understand why someone so harmless was treated like the opposite. "It's okay, Iris," James lent a comforting hand on her shoulder. "One day it'll all work out. I promise."

The two of them continued to talk late into the night, speaking about anything that came to mind. James liked talking to the real Iris, not the one who put her walls up all the time. She was soft-spoken and was more careful with the things she said.

The sitcom was still playing background as they ran out of things to say to each other. James was mindlessly strumming his guitar, trying to make up for the silence. Iris rested her head against the cushion of the couch, resting her eyes.

This was a new feeling for Iris, who rarely had the chance to speak her mind without being ignored. It felt comforting and she hoped she wasn't going to wake up in a few minutes and realize it was just a dream.

James was too focused on playing whatever came off the top of his head and didn't notice Iris with her eyes closed. When he felt a slight bump on his arm, he turned to see Iris fast asleep.

Listening to the sounds coming from his guitar, Iris had fallen asleep. James didn't bother to move, letting her rest her head on his shoulder. 

He couldn't help glancing over at her, admiring how peaceful she looked as she slept.