Metallica one shots and headcannons

Unexpectedly Connected, pt2💫🍂(Jason Newsted one shot)

For Chewie1721, here the second part ❤

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The days after that rainy night felt brighter, even if the skies still remained grey. I couldn't explain it, but something about the encounter stayed with me. Maybe it was the quiet understanding we shared or the warmth in his smile when he read my note. Whatever it was, it lingered in my thoughts like the soft hum of a favorite melody.

I told myself I wouldn't see him again. The city was too big, too busy for our paths to cross twice. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

It happened at a small coffee shop a few blocks from my office. I had ducked inside to escape another downpour, the bell above the door jingling faintly as I stepped into the warm, aromatic space. My coat dripped onto the floor, and I shuffled to the counter, too preoccupied with shaking off the chill to notice anyone around me.

Until I heard a familiar voice.

"Stuck in a loop, huh?"

I turned sharply, my heart skipping a beat. There he was, leaning casually against the far end of the counter with a steaming cup in hand. His hair was dry this time, neatly swept back, but his coat still bore the same slightly worn edges. That small, wry smile I remembered was back, and his eyes sparkled with a quiet amusement as they met mine.

"You again," I said, unable to hide the surprise in my voice—or the grin that crept across my lips. "What are the odds?"

He chuckled softly, a low sound that seemed to warm the room. "I was just thinking the same thing. Guess the universe has a sense of humor."

I ordered my coffee, and before I could second-guess myself, I found us sitting together at a corner table. The conversation came easily, like slipping into an old, familiar rhythm. He told me about his band, how he'd taken my advice and given himself a break. He'd spent the past week rediscovering the joy of music—playing just for himself, without deadlines or expectations. His voice lit up when he talked about it, and I found myself smiling along, feeling that same quiet spark from before.

"And you?" he asked, his gaze steady on mine. "Do you always carry around little notes of wisdom, or was that just a one-time thing?"

I laughed, a little self-conscious but oddly pleased he remembered. "I guess I write them for myself when I need a reminder. I didn't think I'd ever share one, but you looked like you could use it."

He was quiet for a moment, his expression softening. "It did help. More than you know."

The rain had eased slightly by the time we left the café, though the air was still damp and cool. We stood just under the awning, neither of us moving, as though the world outside the little bubble of warmth we'd created felt too vast to step back into.

The streetlights cast a soft, golden glow over the wet pavement, and the faint patter of raindrops filled the silence between us. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets, his gaze flicking toward me and then quickly away, like he was working up the courage to say something.