Kiss of Death- Dave Mustaine Fanfiction

Sweating Bullets

Feeling paranoid
True enemy or false friend?
Anxiety's attacking me and
My air is getting thin
I'm in trouble for the things
I haven't got to yet
I'm chomping at the bit and my
Palms are getting wet, sweating bullets - Megadeth

The week seemed to pass by as I went from class to class. I was still following you around like some lost puppy. It seemed to annoy you, but not enough to force you to tell to go piss off of something of that nature. Right now we had Honors Biology class together. We were put into groups, and much to your dismay and my own pleasure we were assigned together.

You stared down at me rather uninterested as usual waiting for me to do something. Damn!  I'm shaking under pressure and sweating bullets. Crap! What should I say? I have to say something! Saying nothing is akin to saying something! What do I do? I seem stupider and even more antisocial than I already am!

"Hi, I'm Pamina." I stuttered looking up at you holding out my hand towards yours. You looked down at my hand for a second then gazed back up towards my face almost questioningly. You raised a single eyebrow and then gently shook my small minuscule hand with your own large and calloused on.

'Oh my God! This is the first physical contact I've ever had with a boy!' I thought excitedly to myself.

"You already know my name." You stated knowingly.

This was my first real conversation with a peer my age. Looking back at it who knew it would be so underwhelming. However, back then I knew no better, so I thought it was the best thing to ever happen to my life.

I remember feeling paranoid, antsy, and scared the entire time. My social anxiety was attacking me, the air around me grew thin as I blurted out each word, my palms were sweaty and wet, while my fingers were twitching and picking at the loose skin around my nails and cuticles.

Our project was to experiment and find the difference between amphibians, mammals, lung fish, whales, and dolphins. So as expected this would involve us spending time together for the next week and a half. That week and a half was the time of my life. You changed and altered me. You allowed me to step outside of myself for a second in my rather monotonous life.

I remember when I first came over to your house with textbooks and other materials while you were anything, but diligent are caring towards our project.

When I entered your house it seemed like any other typical suburban household in the seventies. It had family pictures up, a small television set, couch, and kitchen. However, the other inhabitants of this household made it different from any other. Just like my own household the father figure was absent from the house. Sure, your mother greeted me at the door, and your sister was on the couch reading some girly magazine, but you were nowhere in sight. Your mother directed me upstairs saying that you would be in your bedroom which was the first room to my right at the top of the stairs.

Once I reached the top of the stairs my ears were immediately greeted with loud metal music. It was Iron Maiden's Killers blaring from your room's stereo. I quietly and shyly approached your room and began to gently knock at your door. It didn't work, so I persisted only louder this time as I began to rap much more loudly at the door. I could hear you grumble out some obscenities as you went to open your door. You greeted me with a low growl as your messy medium length hair covered your face, and your clothes were rather casual with your baggy Motorhead t-shirt and ripped denim jeans to match.

Your room was really unkept and messy. Dirty clothes, vinyl records, comics, and band posters were all scattered across the room. The only thing that seemed to be kept rather nicely was an acoustic guitar that sat adjacent to your unmade bed beneath your window.

"Why are you here? What do you want?" You muttered still annoyed.

"We have to work on our biology project." I peeped shyly.

You muttered out 'Come in' still rather angered as you sat down on the floor and opened up one of the large textbooks of mine.

I can assume you could sense my fear and shy mannerisms.

"What's wrong you're acting weirder than usual?" You muttered out pretending to be interested in the book in front of you. 

There's no point in hiding or at least pretending to hinder my awkwardness around you now. What the hell did I have to loose from telling you? 

"I feel really out of place." I stated unconfidently, "Your music is very loud. It's scary. You scare me." I affirmed all too unsurely.

You looked up at me now amused, interested, and intrigued by my unfiltered thoughts. You then leaned forward smirking at me as to try and intimidate me, and it was working.

"Oh and why is that?" you said the a slight cheeky and evident smirk now glued onto your lips. 

"You're different.", "You are everything. I'm not Dave. I've never met or have been around a person like you. You terrify me. I never seen a man, much less a peer around my age act as nihilistic and droog-ish like you do." I further explained myself trying to justify my mannerisms.

I expected you to be offended, but no you took pride in this title that I gave you. In essence you seemed nothing, but proud in how I just labeled you. It was almost as if you were asking for it. You seemed to revel in the fact that you knowingly  appall and alarm me. You were inhuman. At least I thought you were.

You forced my chin up, so I could gaze directly into your olive chestnut like eyes. My own eyes widened as I witnessed you closing in on my personal space. You brushed back my blonde hair that framed my face and held me by my chin my eyes could only bore into yours and nothing else surrounding us in the room surrounding us. 

"Good.", you established all too certainly and confidently. "I want you to be scared of me, little girl." Afterwards you relinquished your hold on my face and went back to your own designated spot on the floor with the large textbook sitting right next to you. 

You peeped up at me still shocked from the events that just occurred.

"So, are we going to do this project or not?" You questioned all too playfully for my liking. 

I don't know what I have gotten myself into, but you have me sweating bullets.