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Resolutions; Secret Santa for Broken Beat and Scarred, James/OFC
Topic Started: December 24, 2012, 10:07 am (701 Views)
tuesday's gone
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Poor Twisted Me
[ * ]
Forgive the cheesiness, it's Christmas after all!

Merry Christmas Minna, I hope you like it.


Resolutions

You know something is seriously wrong when you want to punch people just for being happy and giddy for the holidays, he concludes while walking from stall to stall, hands in pockets, his leather jacket too thin for the weather, and tight jeans insufficient to keep him warm too. He shoves his hands deeper into his pants pockets, feeling his fingertips turning numb from the cold. Of course fingerless gloves don't work here. You should have known, idiot. Steam coming out of his nose freezes immediately, turning into a delicate frosty web on his beard and moustache.

What the hell is he doing here? Happy faces smile at him and excuse themselves, squeezing their way through to another stall. The pleasant smell of freshly backed pastry and cinnamon pervades the air around him. People sip from their cups filled with mulled wine, while strolling. Musical tunes coming from different places join into a chaotic, happy cacophony of Christmas spirit. It would be nice to be able to go with the flow. Smile. Be happy. But he is on a different mission. He tried different ways of coping with the fact of Cliff's death. Denial did not work. Liquor induced oblivion produced an effect too short to outweigh the long hangover and growing bills for broken furniture. Mourning was an unfamiliar concept. And people are afraid of the unknown, aren't they. Being an experienced self-healer, he came up with this idea. It seemed great at the time, back in November. Go to Sweden. Go back to the place where it happened. Face your fear. Grip it by its throat and strangle it. He was positively ecstatic about his revolutionary cure.

Now, making a part of a huge snake of happy faces winding its way through the Christmas market in Stockholm’s Gamla Stan, it dawns on him that the plan was not so perfect after all. He never went to that place of course. It was way too ambitious of him to think that he would find the strength to do it. He sighs. Another addition to the list of fears and weaknesses. Looking tough on stage is easy. Being tough, once you get off is a completely different thing.

Someone’s voice interrupts his thoughts and he looks up to see a blond teenager smiling at him, saying something that he does not understand. He glances at the items, ready to refuse politely and walk away, but he quickly gets interested in the offer. Standing out from the colorful sea of Christmas decorations, mugs, cakes, scarves and hats on the other stalls, this one has silvery items displayed on the plain black cloth. He looks at the Metallica shaped M made of silver wire on a leather necklace, various Maltese cross pendants, miniature skulls woven together in wristbands, bike figurines… He looks up at the boy again. The boy picks up one of the bikes and offers it to him. He takes it carefully and inspects the details. This took a lot of patience and a lot of love.

“I’m sorry I don’t speak Swedish.” he smiles at the boy ineptly. “Do you speak English?”

The boy nods enthusiastically.
“Of course. Feel free to look around. These are all handmade and every piece is unique” he explains in a very formal tone.

He is amused. “Do you make these?”
“No, my sister does. She usually sells too, but tonight she’s busy singing.” The boy rolls his eyes.

He laughs and proceeds to select a few things he likes. Soon enough his hands are full. Oh, he almost forgot. He reaches out for the M necklace. The boy takes it away, smiling apologetically.

“I’m sorry, this should not be here, it’s my sister’s, it’s not for sale, she left it for me to polish it up and I put it down here when you approached” he reaches for something under the stall and takes out a cloth and polishing solution holding them out for him, as if accused of lying.

He wants to have it. The pendant is beautifully made, wire woven together tightly, but light reflecting differently on every thin thread, so that the letter looks alive, in motion, the pointed parts of the letter precise, as if he made it himself.

“I’ll pay double its worth. Triple. I don’t care, just name the price” he raises an eyebrow.

The boy shrugs apologetically, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry, I cannot. She’ll kill me. It’s this band thing. Some band, I forgot the name” the boy rolls his eyes again.
The boy is so amusing, he fights the urge to laugh loudly.
“I don’t know, she loves them and she made this for herself. And I can’t really…”

“Well I guess I’ll have to wait for your sister then” he puffs.
“She’s over there, at the square, singing carols. I don’t know when she’ll be back.”

He pays the boy for the items he took and winks at him, waving. “Thanks”

The square is crammed. He moves through the crowd with some difficulty. The noise remains farther away in the background as he progresses to the center of the square. A female voice grows distinct, rising above all other surrounding sounds. He does not understand the words but the melody is known. She is singing Silent Night. The interpretation is ethereal, her voice is strong and clear, the pitch high but pleasant. The words flow, intertwined with the music, and circle around him, caressing his ears, easing the cold induced tension in his limbs. He listens and his lips stretch, unconsciously. He surprised himself, it’s a Christmas carol for God’s sake! This is stronger than him, the voice carrying him somewhere else, out of this square, out of this city, out of his mind burdened with losses and sorrows and insecurities and questions, to some other place, where he is at peace and all concerns are just flickering lights in the distance. He breathes in the cold air and feels it rushing through his throat to his lungs, wiping his body clean of the dirt of his life, the tour, the act, the bigotry, that ethereal voice carrying him further away, back in touch with… Himself.

Somewhere in the back of his mind “loss of control” alarm goes off and he quickly runs back to here and now, realizing once he arrived, that he now stands in the front line and everyone around him claps hands eagerly. A tall girl bows humbly. She starts picking up her things and adjusts her knitted hat and scarf. Something flashes on her middle finger. He squints and sees a round ring. The work is recognizable, this is her. He forgets he is staring and looks up only to meet her gaze. It takes him by surprise, her eyes studying him from the moderate distance. He looks away quickly.

Wait, did you just look away?!

His eyes flash back at her and he holds her gaze, congratulating himself, waiting for her to look away. Soon enough she does, fixing her hat and scarf again, although they need no fixing at all. She swings her bag on her shoulder clumsily, and shakes hands with the violin player, smiling warmly. He sees her glancing at him sideways.

Oh yeah, he’s gonna have that pendant. He takes a few confident steps towards her and waits for her to turn and face him. She hesitates and his amusement grows. He crosses his arms on his chest and stands with legs wide apart. The violin guy engages her in some conversation he does not understand. It takes a while, he starts getting annoyed. He coughs meaningfully and glares at the violin guy. The player finally gets the gist and starts packing up. She turns slowly and their eyes meet again. She blushes instantly but does not look away this time. He sees no lust in her eyes, he actually does not see much of her at all, apart from her face, she is hidden from him behind the thick coat and scarf and hat. His confidence suddenly disappears, as he studies her face, he knows he should say something, but does not know what, he is not used to normal conversation, not with girls, girl fans that is. They usually do all the talking themselves and they don’t talk much in general, there are more important things to do. But this one is covered in layers of clothes and looks at him waiting for him to say something and he has no clue what to say. He shifts weight and holds out his hand, clearing his throat.

“Hi. Errr… James. James Hetfield.”

Her eyes widen, she shakes his hand. Her hands are warm, her firm handshake takes him by surprise.

“Emma. Emma Solberg. I know who you are. I saw you, but I was not sure…This is…unexpected” she smiles nervously but does not lower her gaze. “I’m.. I never thought I would meet you. I mean…” she smiles, embarrassed.

James’ mind works furiously. What should he say next?!

“You are not here for a gig, right? I would have known that…” she says quietly almost to herself, her eyebrows furrowed, she blushes again.
He never thought of any woman as cute. Until now.

“No, no, I’m here alone” the last word hits him for some reason. He quickly composes himself, straightening up in an attempt to establish control over the conversation. But she’s tall, very tall, almost his height. And she looks at him attentively, with smart eyes. Get to the point. And quickly.

“I came by your stall and I saw this pendant, M shaped, I wanted to buy it, but your brother was very… hm… determined” he laughs, remembering the boy’s genuine fear when he refused to sell.

She stares at him for a few awkward seconds, he sees her studying his face and is amused again. He finally relaxes and regains some of his old self.

“Oh, that… Sorry. It’s not for sale.” She smiles.

He is speechless again. What does she mean, not for sale?! She just stared at him with admiration!

“I’m sorry. It’s the first piece I made, I was so happy when I made it, I worked on it for months, I wanted something to demonstrate how much I like you… I mean, Metallica, to show it to the world, but in my own way, you know… And I’m sure you have dozens of much better things than this…” her hand reaches for her scarf, as if to touch the pendant, but she then remembers she does not have it and lowers her hand, blushing heavily.

James stares at her trying to remember the last time someone denied him anything. She looks at him ruefully, then lowers her gaze. He sees her hands shaking and notices she’s breathing very fast. She’s cute. Again?

“I understand. I guess I’ll have to be satisfied with a dozen other items I bought” he swings the bag on his forefinger.

“Oh! I didn’t realize… Thank you. I mean… Thank you” she takes a step forward, lifting her arms, he thinks she will hug him but she quickly retreats, squeezing his upper arm lightly. She beams at him. “I never thought… This is just such a surprise…” she fumbles with her scarf.

Very cute. Too cute. Why is he thinking about seeing her again?

“OK, then, Ms. Not-For-Sale. Nice meeting you. Keep listening to good music.” He laughs and catches her staring again. He should go. His feet are glued to the ground. Did the soles freeze while they were chatting?

“How long are you staying here for?” she adds the “for” after some thought, perfecting her grammar. Cute again.

“I don’t know. A few more days, I’ll leave before the New Year. Cant’ stand all the fuss.”

“I know, I hate all this fuss about it. I’m usually alone. Right there. On the corner. See? That’s where I’m at, every year. Watching the fireworks. Making resolutions” she laughs. “You should come” her eyes widen and she looks away blushing, making a dismissive hand gesture, “I’m sorry, that was stupid. I got carried away” she shoves her hands in the pockets of her coat and looks around seemingly casually.

He smiles. Every time he does she stares at his lips, he is sure she is unaware of the way she looks at him. It makes him smile even more. And there it is again. The stare.

“Thanks for the tip. I might just check it out. See you around.” he turns around with considerable effort.

“Yeah, see you” Emma watches him walk away. She exhales loudly, jumping in place.

The following three days James went to the square in the afternoon to listen to her sing. The first day, he went there feeling angry at himself and confused. A girl, a fan, singing Christmas carols?! What was so appealing about that? There, you will go today and see there is nothing to be so fucking excited about, he snapped at himself silently, already on his way out of the hotel. Her singing had the same effect on him, as the first time he heard her, only stronger. The melody carrying her voice lifted him off the ground and carried him to another dimension. He floated there, weightless, free of every thought, inhibition and limitation. It was addictive. The next day he went to the square again, this time not even bothering to try and reason with the angry alpha control-freak barking at him from the depths of his soul. The day after that, he went to the square as if it was a part of year long routine.

Sitting in the cozy chair in his hotel room on Christmas day he realized she would not be there. It was Christmas after all. Normal people spend it with families. He pictured the place Emma had showed him a few days ago and imagined her standing there, lit by fireworks. He jumped up to the phone and called the reception, asking to prolong his stay. The following days passed in a haze. He spent most of them on the phone, Lars was pissed at him for staying longer than planned and being so “fucking absentminded and carefree”.

He avoided going to the square however. Somehow he felt he would ruin the memory of the place. His happy place. The angry James cringed at the phrase. This one did not care.

This one now walks briskly, hurrying through the narrow streets pulsating with festive spirit. He almost runs, thick layers of snow beneath his feet slowing him down, hidden ice below surprising him every now and then, making him curse through his teeth. He rushes across the square, seeing a tall figure leaning against the wall. He purposefully slows down on the last stretch, he can’t just show up breathless and blow steam at her, fighting for breath, can he?

His heart is somewhere in his throat as he approaches her. She glances at her watch.
“Afraid you’re gonna miss it?”
She turns around startled and stares at him speechless for a few seconds. He smiles. Her stare again migrates to his mouth and stays there.

“I… No… I just checked…. How…I mean, I thought… Hi!” she smiles forcing her eyes to meet his.

“I decided to check out those fireworks you mentioned. I like all things pyro. Perhaps they offer something special in Sweden… Plus, I have this bottle in my jacket and I would really like to take it out and get rid of it” he takes out a bottle of champagne. Not his kind of drink for sure but it fitted the occasion, and it was refined. She eyes the bottle suspiciously. Does she like it? Does he look like a fool? Why didn’t he just stick to beer? Shit. The advantage he made by surprising her, now quickly disappeared. She smiles.

“That’s funny…”
What do you mean funny? James shifts weight, he feels like growling.

“…because” she reaches into her coat “I have a bottle myself.” She takes out a bottle of champagne.
He breathes out in relief. The steam gives him away. She smiles again.

“It’s cold, perhaps we don’t have to wait for midnight to pop them?”

“Now you’re talking! Errr, glasses?” he raises an eyebrow. She stares at him again for a prolonged moment, he fights the urge to laugh loudly.

“Ummmm, no… I’m not that sophisticated, I’m afraid. I just drink from the bottle.” she blushes.

“Perfect! I never liked sophisticated girls.”

The cork pops out easily, he offers the bottle to her and she takes a sip, handing the bottle over to him. They chat about this and that between the sips. She tells him of her plans to open up a bar, rock themed place, which would play only the music she likes and hopefully serve as a meeting point to people sharing the same passion. Perhaps even bands, when they’re here. He tells her of the tour, the behind the scenes bits and pieces, her jaw drops to every story. He is on unfamiliar ground but he feels comfortable and content. He managed to impress her in a simple conversation. He never believed that would be possible. He never tried, no one even remotely interested him enough to make him engage in a conversation. The first and then the second bottle circling between them helped of course. Soon enough he swallowed the last sip from the second bottle.

“I think we just ran out of our fancy drink” he points to the empty bottle in his hand.

Emma giggles. “There goes our toast at midnight!” She giggles some more, making him laugh. No toast? What if…

“Hey, it’s almost midnight, have you made your resolution?”

He laughs again. “No, I don’t do that shit. Have you?”

“Yes, I have. I always do that shit” she emphasizes the last word, looking at him with fake defiance.

“Well, what is it?” her hat falls low on her forehead and he fixes it. He realizes what he did when he catches her staring at him and then looks at his fingers still resting on her head and temples.

“So, are you gonna share or not?” he tucks his hands in his pockets.

“It’s lame. But I don’t care. All this is unreal as it is, I can be lame, right? I decided I’m going to see you live. In the States. Some day. There.”

He ponders on her resolution and his mind rushes to a moment in undefined future where he gets out on the stage with new confidence in his step, his body vibrating with excitement, his blood pumping with new force, his performance brought to perfection… The biggest award of all waiting for him to take her home. It feels good.

Voices of people counting down in unison bring him back to the present. Ten… Nine… He looks at Emma and takes off her hat, her braided hair shines under the dim lights.

Eight… Seven…A few tresses fall on her cheeks rebelliously. He tries to fix them but they keep coming back. She leans into his palm. Her cheek is warm.

Six… Five… He leans and speaks into her ear.
“Someday, one day, I will come back and kiss you again. There’s a resolution for you.”

One… Fireworks lit up the sky. She stares at him again, but this time it’s different. There is no awe or admiration in her eyes, but there is something, something like a jolt to the heart.

“What do you mean, again?” she frowns, taking a small step back.

“Happy New Year Emma” he laughs, cupping her face and leaning in slowly, waiting for a sign of resistance. She puts up none and his lips close down on hers gently. He feels her breath on his face as she opens her mouth, her hand crawling up and around his neck and resting on his nape pulling him in lightly. His tongue slides into her mouth. Soon enough he’s floating, weightless, in the world of endless possibilities. He knows this is the last such moment for a long time to come and is determined to make the best of it. Emma’s tongue glides over his, her teeth grazing over his lips, long fingers caressing his neck. His hands creep inside her coat, one wraps around her waist firmly, the other continues its journey upwards to the neck. He feels a pointed piece of metal under his fingertips. It pinches him lightly every now and then, as his hands memorize the soft skin.

The fireworks climax with the loudest and richest display of sparkly colors and shapes lighting up the sky and the sea below them. They break the kiss. James looks at Emma, opening his mouth to say something a couple of times but words let him down. Emma smiles at him, withdrawing her hand from his neck, across his cheek and lips, down to his chest. It stops there and rests for a few moments. He looks at it and tries to speak again but fails.
“I’ll stay a bit longer. Have a safe trip.”
He opens his mouth once again but nothing happens. He kisses her gently on the lips.
“See you.”



James looks at himself in the mirror and is happy with what he sees. Who knew he could look good dressed up like this. But it’s not every day that you play with Symphony. He takes a deep breath. His hand reaches for the comfort of cool metal around his neck, the round shape of a ring in contrast with the pointed letter that he knows rests on the soft skin of her neck especially for tonight. He also knows she will replace it in the morning with a ring identical to his, only smaller, the one he saw on her middle finger years ago.

He walks out on the stage with new confidence in his step. His body vibrates with excitement, his blood is pumping with new force. He feels his performance will be perfect tonight. And he knows his biggest award will wait for him to take her home.

New Year’s resolutions. Not bad at all.



Edited by tuesday's gone, January 12, 2013, 5:25 pm.
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Olyamet
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Jäger.....

Lov it!! :heart: :heart: :heart:
Perfect James!!!!
Sorry, I'm on my phone at work, so it's a short comment.
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Broken, Beat & Scarred
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A little cheese never hurt anyone, right? I loved it. :heart:

Sadly, I'm really tired (been up for over 20 hours, and spent Christmas in three houses so far during this one day), so, I just read it through quickly, but I will return to give it a better read and a better comment. A wonderful story. Thank you so much! :heart: And merry Christmas to you, too!
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Jamie's_Chick
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Some Kind Of Monster
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What a cute and perfect story! Loved it, loved Emma, her brother and of course, loved James, he was just...just perfect, all cute and stuf... :biggrin
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Olyamet
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Jäger.....

Now, I'm home and here goes a better comment.
The way you described James' feelings in the crowd of people... priceless. Just pure James.
And his a bit awkwardness with a girl, who dared to say no. Perfect.
And a perfect ending, it's short but it's all there!
Thank you, Bo for a great story, you made my day!
:heart: :heart: :heart: :heart:

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Shayniz21
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Poor Twisted Me
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I just loved this! This was so adorable!
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jØrdan
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Valar Morghulis
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FINALLY!!! I FINISHED!!!

BO! THIS CAME OUT EVEN BETTER THAN I IMAGINED!!! Especially the ending... so solid and perfect.

The way you described James at this point in his life, before everything got absolutely huge, was perfect. :heart:

Thank you for writing this. I love you. It is known. ;) :heart:
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tuesday's gone
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Poor Twisted Me
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Thank you all for reading and your wonderful comments! I'm really happy you liked it. :heart:

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Broken, Beat & Scarred
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Alright. I'm so sorry it's taken me this long to comment properly, but ugh I've been visiting relatives here and there and had people visit me and now it's finally calm again. For a while.

Anyhoo, I love the way you describe things in the scene and especially the way you describe James' thoughts and the way his mind works. I can relate to him wanting to punch people for being happy about the holidays, sometimes it just gets to be a bit too much. Haha! And this is coming from someone who LOVES Christmas.

I really loved how you described James seeing the girl for the first time, and her being a little awkward. And then when they are eye to eye, it's actually him that's acting/feeling awkward. Nice transition there.

I loved the resolution part. How James sees something behind her resolution and how he takes a shot with his own resolution. You finished the story wonderfully, going back to the necklace and the resolutions, him taking her home. Lovely! :heart:

Now, my only complaint, as a Finn (who all hate Sweden and the Swedes :P), is that this is all happening in Sweden and to a Swedish girl. ;) (Seriously, though, I love Stockholm, and especially Gamla Stan and I can so picture everything in my head! :heart: )

Love love love it! Thank you for writing it!
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