𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐏𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐫

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞

664 words

6 months later

Veruca's P.O.V
The blinding light peeking from behind the blinds was what woke me. The next thing to disturb me was the soft snores coming from the warm body next to me. Their arms were wrapped tightly around my waist, their hot breath on my head. Long, frizzy hair hung in my face. Oh shit...James. Jamie- I meant James. The tall, lanky guy who I was slowly starting to fall for. How in the hell did we end up in this situation?

Back to third person
She slowly removed the singer's arms from around her waist, causing him to stir. He yawned and sat up fully to look at her. "Ruca? Oh shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep on you."

He mumbled groggily as he looked around the room at his bandmates and friends that were now spread out in the room. Beer bottles and cans littered the floor. The strong stench of weed and piss filled the air. What kind of party was this?

Veruca stood up and immediately slouched back down onto the couch. She held her head as the room spun around her. Everything went dark. Once she found her bearings, she sat up and looked around. The entirety of Metallica was staring down at her, whispering to each other. "Is she okay?" Kirk fretted in a hushed tone.

"Shut up, asshole, she's waking up." Lars chided back, slapping the guitarist on the arm. "What the hell happened? Why are you fuckers all staring at me?" She griped as she rubbed her eyes. James slowly helped her up, he was never very adamant about showing his feelings but he did worry for her well being.

Veruca was snapped out of her lovesick haze when an impatient Lars snapped his fingers in front of her face.

"Ruca! Lad os gå!* I don't know why I even bother with you people sometimes!" He trails off as he begins walking out of the door followed by Kirk and Cliff. The two singers were now left to their own devices as James gave her a tight-lipped smile.

Ruca sighed and looked to the floor before following after the rest of the band. James put a protective hand on the small of her back before closing the door behind him. This caused Veruca to whip around, she practically shot daggers at him with the look. "I'm not your girlfriend, okay? You don't have to protect me." She spat as she climbed into the back of the band's van.

James looked like a hurt puppy for the rest of the ride back to his apartment where the band frequented practice and jam sessions. Veruca would occasionally come over to keep him company when he had been alone for too long. Now he just wanted to be by himself for the rest of the day. He was pissed off considering the fact that he was only trying to be nice to her. Why'd she have to shit all over his feelings?

He didn't come out of his apartment for half a week. When the rest of the band finally reached him, his apartment was trashed. Beer bottles were thrown carelessly in the trash. Some half empty. "James? C'mon, man, open up." Kirk pleaded as he banged on the door.

Finally, a raggedy James emerged. His hair hadn't been washed in five days and he stunk to high heaven. "Piss off." He grumbled to the band. Before he could shut the door, Cliff put his foot in the doorway. He put a hand on his friend's shoulder and gave him a smirk. "Let's talk."

Later in the evening, after the band helped him clean up, a knock sounded at James's door. It was Veruca. She had her purse with her along with her guitar case. James nearly immediately shut the door on her but he stopped himself. He opened it cautiously to reveal her face. "Hey...can we talk?" She murmured.

*translation "let's go"