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Many different sounds filled your ears as you made your rounds backstage: the noisy tuning of guitars, the nervous chattering of crew members making sure everything was set up properly, and the cheers of thousands of fans outside, only getting louder as showtime quickly approached. It was a cacophony you had grown accustomed to over the years of being a manager for Metallica, and the palpable excitement before every concert never got old. This year’s tour, the Wherever We May Roam tour, was especially hectic, as the album that they were touring to support had shot them up to unprecedented levels of popularity. That meant that this tour was massive, as the crowds at Metallica’s shows had grown larger than ever before, and so did the crew. You knew that managing the band would become a much more daunting task, but it was a challenge you were ready for.
Something you were not ready for was the sudden flirtations you were on the receiving end of from Metallica’s frontman, James Hetfield. Ever since the tour began, he always found some excuse to be near you or talk to you, usually ending in some suggestive comment about going home with him, which you always declined. Despite his boldness, you found yourself attracted to him, though you would never admit it to anybody, especially not to him.
“Hey, Y/n! Wait up!” you heard someone call from behind you. You stopped and turned to see James jogging up to you. Oh, no. What does he want now, you thought. You smiled at him, just to be friendly. “Hey, James. Ready for the show?” He smirked at you, which made your heart skip a beat. “Oh, I’m more than ready.” The two of you walked and talked for a bit, discussing the impending show and how great it was going to be. Once you were near the dressing rooms, from the hustling and bustling of the backstage crew, you felt him tap you on the shoulder lightly. You gave him a “What’s up?” sort of look before he pointed towards his room, beckoning you to follow him inside.
James flicked the light switch of the room on, lighting up the dressing room. A few guitars and their empty cases were propped up against the walls, and various bottles of beer decorated almost every surface, save for one table in the corner of the room. “What’s going on, huh? Why are we in here?” you asked, looking down at your wristwatch to make sure it wasn’t showtime yet. “Just wanted to talk to you without everybody listening” he replied, shutting the door behind him. That glint in his eyes was now present, the one that always appeared whenever he’d try to romance you. So, he wanted to get me alone. Damn it, I should’ve known, you mentally reprimanded yourself for falling into James’ trap so easily.
A mischievous grin spread across his face, and you suddenly felt like you weren’t his manager anymore, but his prey. “You know…there’s still some time left before the show” he spoke lowly, which gave you butterflies in your stomach. “Yes, there is, and if we don’t get out of here soon, you’ll be late” you muttered, trying to sound as nonchalant as humanly possible. He rolled his eyes, clearly not believing your act. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know why I brought you here.” Your breath hitched when you felt his hands ghost over your waist, just barely touching you. God, you could practically feel his desire emanating off him; it was intoxicating.
“James… the concert-” you wanted to finish your thought, but a tug on your waist stopped you from doing so. Now you were flush against his frame, your face merely inches from his. He walked you towards the empty table until your back was against it. “I know you feel the same way. I see it whenever I talk to you, how flustered you get. It’s adorable.” The pressure of his body against yours felt incredible, you couldn’t lie to yourself about that.
He lifted you onto the table with ease, running his hands up and down your sides after he did so. The expression on his face changed ever so slightly, you probably wouldn’t even have noticed if you weren’t so close to him. James let his hands fall to his side, stepping away from you as he did. He wasn’t grinning anymore; the lustful gaze in his eyes was now gone. The atmosphere in the room seemed to shift to something less heated, but you still felt that invisible magnetic pull towards him. “I need to hear you say it, Y/n” James spoke in a soft, almost pleading tone. You knew exactly what “it” meant. He wanted a confession, but he wasn’t outright saying it, and that frustrated you to no end. As much as you would’ve loved to have just let out all the emotions you had been hiding for so long, you wished he would do the same.
A voice from outside interrupted your moment with James, before you could even give him an answer. “Where the fuck is James, it’s showtime!” It was Lars, sounding beyond irritated at his frontman’s absence. You wiggled out of James’ grip and took him by the wrist, practically dragging him outside the storage room. There was Lars, just a few steps away from the door, and he spun around at the sound of the storage room door opening and locked eyes with James. “What the fuck were you doing in there?! Never mind, I don’t even wanna know, just get to the front now!” the drummer exclaimed at him, sprinting towards the stage. You straightened yourself out as best you could, planning to go watch the concert from backstage as you always did, but James stopped you. “So, after the show, then? I could bump your paycheck up afterwards, if you want.” He nudged your shoulder playfully, giving you a smile that made you want to smack it right off him. How mortifying, you thought. What, does he think I’m a fucking prostitute? “No, James. I’m your manager. Now, you’re going to get your ass on that stage and we’re going to pretend this never happened.” You frowned at him before taking him by the wrist again, leading him to the concert stage.
As soon as the show began, you snuck out of the venue, not sticking around to watch like you usually did. This was the last straw; James had pushed things way too far. You were fuming by the time you got into your car, slamming your hands on the steering wheel in anger. “What the fuck is wrong with him?!” you screamed to yourself. After allowing yourself a few moments to cool off, you drove straight home, planning on quitting your position. As much as you loved Lars, Kirk, and Jason and had grown close to them over the years, you couldn’t tolerate James’ behavior anymore.
Despite your anger and frustration at him, you held onto a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, James would come to see you. No flirting, arrogance or bravado, no attempts to sleep with you, no nonsense. You loved him for who he was underneath all that: the kind, funny, effortlessly charming man you always knew. The realist in you pushed any hope down, however, knowing that James would probably find some other woman to irritate with his antics.
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Time skip, 1 month later
After you quit, life seemed to slow to a standstill. Being a manager for one of the biggest bands in the world really did keep you on your toes 24/7. Now that you no longer held your previous responsibilities, you found yourself becoming bored, which shocked you; you hadn’t felt boredom in nearly a decade.
Despite this, you kept yourself occupied. "There's always something to do, even if you think there isn't", a little motto you told yourself often. After a particularly long day of cleaning up the house, you plopped yourself onto your living room couch for some much-needed rest.
The sound of the doorbell broke the silence, and you groaned in frustration. As you begrudgingly stood up to check who was there, you heard a familiar voice on the other side of the door. "Y/n? It's me." James said. You froze for a moment, wondering if you should even open the door. The memory of your last encounter with him before you quit returned to you, and you grimaced. What could it hurt to just talk to him? It's what I wanted in the first place. Maybe you could at least get some closure; you didn't exactly part with him on good terms. If you were being honest with yourself, it was genuinely nice to hear James’ voice again. You opened the door, hoping against hope that you were making the right decision.
Not even a millisecond after you did so were you pulled into a bone-crushing hug, to which you let out a small shriek in response. "I've missed you so much, Y/n, you have no idea!", he spoke excitedly. You pushed him off you and closed the door behind him. "Alright, alright, that's enough, James. It's been a month, not a year."
Once you two were situated in the living room, you asked him why he showed up unannounced. You already had a feeling he had something to get off his chest. "I'm sorry I just showed up out of the blue like this, it’s just... I had to see you. I was counting the days till the tour break finally came so I could talk to you in person. To say I’m sorry about how I treated you. I’m awful about saying how I really feel, always have been. But I always find myself at a loss for words when I’m with you, I’ve always had a thing for you. Ever since you started managing us. It’s embarrassing, really.” He’s fidgeting in his seat, taking the occasional glance at you, then back at his shoes as he opens up to you. This is the sincerest he’s ever been with you; it’s shocking but not unwelcome to you, you can only imagine how much of a foreign feeling this must be for him after months of portraying that “rock star” image to you, hoping it would win you over. He noticed you stifle a giggle at this, and he couldn’t help but share in your amusement at his own emotional ineptitude. “Really, it is! I get that “butterflies in your stomach” feeling whenever we talk. I never thought that feeling was real, till I met you. You get me in a way nobody else does.”
You’re smiling, the first time you’ve genuinely smiled since you quit. A sense of relief came over you, and you felt that things were finally falling into place for you and James. “I… well, first, I forgive you. But I don’t even know what to say.” It’s your turn to be emotionally inept, it seemed. All this time you’ve wanted James to be open about his feelings, and now once he is, it’s got you tongue-tied. Go figure. He grins at you, and you fight to not pounce on him and kiss him right then and there. “There is something you can say. I think you know what it is by now.” He’s pulled you into a hug, but this time a gentler one; he held you like you were something precious, like you could slip through his fingers at any moment. He’s kissing you so softly it nearly brought you to tears. But you wouldn’t budge just yet. “You first!” you managed to say in between kisses, and he playfully rolls his eyes. “Fine, alright. I love you, Y/n.” Finally! I’ve been waiting for this for so long, you thought. “I love you, too, James.”
Both of you are overjoyed, now that your emotions are out in the open. But now you weren’t sure what to do next. As if he had heard your thoughts, James stood up with you still in his arms. “Well, all this confessing’s made me pretty damn hungry. How’s about we go get something to eat?” You laugh lightly at this but realized that getting some food wasn’t such a bad idea; you don’t even remember if you had breakfast or not. You embrace him, your ear to his chest so you could hear his heartbeat. You wished you could stay like this forever. “Sounds good to me. You pick the place!”