Enter Night 《Cliff Burton》

6

Michael Kjellberg took another gulp of the beer he was holding, and studied his long-time best friend Ronnie, who was playing Unforgiven 2 by Metallica on her guitar, her amber coloured hair swinging around as she bobbed her head to the rhythm of the music. She'd been acting weird all day since... since what? This morning?

She wouldn't tell him what was up, and it honestly kind of hurt; they'd never kept anything from each other before. For fuck's sake, he thought, if you can tell me about your first period in detail, why can't you tell me this? Michael took another swag of his beer. Well, Ronnie's parents' beer, actually. He partly understood, at least, enough to stop pushing her to tell him.

Generally though, he didn't understand at all.

Then a staggering thought occurred to him. What if it's because she has a crush on me? He nearly gasped out loud. It all made sense - how skittish she was acting around him, how she was avoiding his gaze... he gulped. It wouldn't have mattered if he actually did feel the same about her.

Ronnie finally stopped playing and pushed her hair out of her face with her right hand to look at him, confused. "What? Why're you gaping at me like that?"

He couldn't say anything at first, and just stared back into her light hazel eyes. After a short moment, he finally took a deep breath and started talking.

"Hey, uh..." Michael swallowed. Maybe he should be subtle at first. "Do you have a crush on anyone right now?"

Ronnie looked at him and laughed. "Who do I have to have a crush on? Brian?"

"Are you sure?" Michael asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Yeah, man." She laughed. "Where's all this coming from?"

"Is that what you're not telling me?" Michael finally asked.

He watched as Ronnie stiffened, her smile freezing on her face. Michael's eyes widened, but then his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she started laughing again, catching him off guard.

Was that... was that relief he heard in her voice? Or just more nerves?

"Actually, yeah." Ronnie said, smiling. Michael's heart thumped. No, no, no.. this will ruin our friendship. "Who.. who is it?" He tried to speak coherently against the shock - and beer - swarming in his mind.

"I can't tell you that," She said.

Michael looked down at the Budweiser in his hands, suddenly finding the label very interesting.

"Can I guess?" He asked timidly.

Ronnie laughed. "You can never."

"Actually Brian?" He asked. Ronnie shook her head, chuckling.

"Pete?" She shook her head again.

"Am I even close?" She shook her head. Michael raised an eyebrow.

"I'll tell you," She said. "His name is James."

Oh, He let out a sigh of relief. But then again, if it was just a random guy named James, why would she want to keep that from-

"James Hetfield," Ronnie smirked. Michael's breath hitched, but he managed to roll his eyes.

"I thought you liked Cliff the most?" He asked sarcastically.

Ronnie froze, her already pale skin paling even more. Her eyes widened. She nearly dropped her guitar from her lap, and hit a dissonant chord as she grabbed at it to break the fall. She looked at Michael, but then her eyes focused on something behind him. Michael saw pure terror growing in them.

"I'll be right back," She said in almost a whisper as she got up, leaned the guitar against her bed and raced past him to the bathroom.

What the hell? He wondered as he stared behind him at the closed bathroom door. Did she actually like Cliff or something? If so, it was pretty unfortunate to fall in love with a dead man.

Ronnie didn't seem like she could be that stupid, though. He frowned. Something else was up, and this had nothing to do with her feelings.

Then where did Cliff Burton come in all of this? He racked his brain, trying to come up with an explanation on his own.

It was no use. He sighed. He'd have to find out himself. His instincts told him that something very peculiar was going on with his friend.

He got up, clutching the beer bottle in his hand. He wasn't that drunk, thankfully - and who got drunk after just a couple gulps of beer anyway? He headed toward the bathroom door, and placed his ear against it, listening.

He stood still. Was that sobbing he heard?

"Fuck, I'm sorry," He heard her say. He could've sworn on his life she said that. Why would she say that? He wondered. The only other time he'd been this confused was when he accidentally picked up one of his dad's Playboy magazines as a kid.

His ears perked up as he heard Ronnie whisper a name. "Cliff"? Was that what she said? He strained his ears.

Suddenly, his vision began to darken. He dropped the bottle which fortunately stayed intact, as he grabbed his head.

He felt himself fall, and tried to reach out for something to hold on in vain, but didn't feel any pain as everything went black before he hit the ground.

**********

I jerked upwards from my kneeling position against the bathroom wall as I heard a loud noise come from outside - something like glass breaking. I hurried toward the door, but something powerful stopped me from opening it.

"You idiot!" I grimaced as I heard a voice I recognized yell. "Why'd you make it so obvious?"

I said nothing, I could say nothing.

"He was trying to listen to what was going on in here," Cliff wasn't yelling anymore, but his tone was still furious. "Now he's going to try to find out the truth as best as he can!"

"I'm sorry," I meekly said.

"A sorry isn't enough," Cliff finally appeared before my eyes. He looked much angrier than he sounded; his hazel eyes which looked warm and friendly when he was alive darkened with fury, his massive fists clenched and jaw set. I swallowed, my heart thumping fast at the sight.

"Do you know why I want to keep this a secret?" He asked angrily, shifting the collar of his jean jacket. I lightly shook my head.

"I don't want your mother to find out. I know she'll perform an exorcism if she does."

My eyes widened. I began to protest, but he was right - my mother was slightly religious, which was probably why she hated my music.

"But what difference does it make if Michael knows?" I asked, my voice trembling. "He can keep a secret."

"No, not a single fucking soul should know," Cliff snapped, taking a step towards me. I pressed back against the wall, begging it to let me slip to the other side. An unnatural gust of cold wind travelled through the bathroom and blew a few strands of my hair. "If it's out, everyone will find out."

My throat tightened.

"And if your mother finds out..." Leaving the sentence hanging in the air, he glared into my eyes, his own burning with rage. "I've already died once. Just know that I don't want to die again."

With that, he disappeared.