Metallica one shots and headcannons

Tears and rain🌧 (James Hetfield one shot)

You and James are arguing about the band. After you decide to go out even if it's raining....

We had been arguing for what felt like hours, though it probably hadn't even been that long. It always came down to the same thing—his band. He was never around anymore. Rehearsals, gigs, late nights with the guys... it was like I didn't even exist unless it was convenient for him.

"Do you even care about us anymore?" I shouted, my voice breaking. "Because I'm starting to feel like I'm not part of your life at all!"

He scoffed, his face a mask of frustration and anger. "Are you fucking serious right now? I'm busting my ass for this band, for us, and now you're complaining?"

"I'm not complaining," I snapped back, tears blurring my vision. "I'm telling you that I'm tired of always coming second! It's like you're never here anymore. I didn't sign up to be left behind every time you get a call for another gig!"

"Well, maybe you should've thought about that before getting involved with a musician!" he shot back, his voice edged with sarcasm and hurt. "You knew what this was from the start. Now that it's actually happening, it's a problem?"

His words cut deep, but I wasn't going to back down. "I knew you had dreams, but I didn't think you'd fucking forget I existed once they started coming true."

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, running a frustrated hand through his wet hair. "This is exactly why I don't talk to you about the band anymore. You never understand. You just... you just don't get it!"

The room was heavy with the sound of rain pounding against the windows, drowning out the silence that settled between us. I couldn't take it anymore. I felt trapped, suffocated by his words and the rain outside.

"I can't do this," I said, my voice trembling as I grabbed my coat. The tears were falling freely now, and I was done pretending they weren't. "I'm done."

I yanked open the door and stormed out, my heart racing with each step. "Wait! [Your Name]!" he called after me, panic clear in his voice. "Where are you going? Please, don't—"

But I didn't stop. I couldn't. The cold rain hit me like a slap, soaking through my clothes instantly. I walked briskly down the street, not caring where I went. The sound of the rain and the ache in my chest were all that I could focus on.

The streets were nearly empty, save for a few brave souls trying to escape the storm. My mind was spinning, overwhelmed by the argument, his hurtful words, and the feeling of being left behind. I walked until my legs were too tired to carry me any further and finally collapsed onto the curb under a dim streetlight. The rain poured down, drenching me, but I felt numb—more from the emotional storm inside me than the weather.

I hugged my knees to my chest, wondering if he even noticed I was gone—or if he cared. My sobs were lost in the roar of the rain, and I felt utterly alone.

Then, I heard it. The sound of splashing footsteps growing louder, and there he was, running toward me, soaked to the bone, his face a mixture of worry and relief. He slid to his knees beside me in the rain, ignoring how cold and wet he was.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he asked, his voice trembling with both fear and anger. "Why did you run out like that? I was so fucking worried. I thought something happened to you. I didn't know where you were."

I looked up at him, my tears mingling with the rain. "I didn't think you'd even notice," I whispered, my voice barely above a sob.

His expression softened, and I could see the guilt etched into every line of his face. "Of course I noticed," he said quietly, his hands reaching out but stopping just short of touching me. "I thought I lost you. I've been such a fucking idiot. I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of that shit. I was just angry and scared. Please, come home with me."

For a moment, I hesitated. My heart ached, torn between the hurt I felt and the hope that maybe he really did understand. Slowly, I reached out, letting him take my hand. His grip was firm, his touch warm against the cold rain.

He pulled me gently to my feet, and I saw the genuine concern in his eyes. "Let's get you out of the rain," he said softly, guiding me back toward the warmth of the apartment.

The rain continued to fall as we walked back, but it felt different now. We walked in silence, the storm around us fading into the background. Maybe we could figure this out, piece by piece, together.