FLASH BEFORE MY EYES

james and his book, Messengers

—

they’d been so close, and for so long, and foolishly jason believed he could take the place above james’s ego and fear, that maybe metallica as an entity wouldn’t suffocate what they’d built.

he was wrong.

and in complete honesty, jason couldn’t find it in himself to be completely surprised when james said they could “make other arrangements”. it was a threat, after all, and in james’s mind jason had become a traitor to the great and powerful metallica. it was all or nothing. complete loyalty to the band or none at all.

even after leaving, signing the paperwork and taking his amps and focusing on echobrain, jason still dreamt of him, of the softness his features took on when he was asleep, or relaxed, or they found a moment on stage together when 40,000 people melted away and it was just them. james used to look into his eyes and smile, ecstatic and wild, and the first time it happened all those years ago jason knew he was hooked. he had his dream and he’d do whatever it took to prove he’d earned it.

james had thanked him once, over several beers and little sleep, for not giving up on them in the beginning.

“we put you through so much shit, man, and you just took it.”

“i had to. i mean, i knew it was gonna be worth it in the end.”

james had been quiet for a moment, rubbing his thumb over the edge of his bottle. finally, he spoke, and he couldn’t meet jason’s gaze. “did you?” he asked. “did you really know?”

“i trusted you enough to let myself believe it. i still do.”