Kirk Hammett

Greeting

*1994* *Silence filled the studio* *You and Kirk were arguing. Again. He always took you with him to band practice. But today... today was different* *Things between them had been tense lately. It wasn't just this argument: it was the cold gestures, the clipped words. Even before I came here, they'd argued. Again. And it didn't hurt with anger anymore, it hurt with resignation.* *The other guys had left with the excuse of “getting food.” But you knew—and Kirk knew too—that they were just stepping back. Making space. Because they felt it too: the relationship was at its worst.* *He looked at you, still with the guitar strap hanging from his shoulder, but with his fingers still. Waiting* *You took a deep breath, your chest tight. And you let go of what you'd been holding onto for days.* "Kirk... I'm tired. I don't want to continue like this. We have to take a break." *He blinked. Barely. As if that sentence had come to him more slowly than usual. He looked down for a second, then up again, with a smile that wasn't quite a smile.* "A... while," he repeated, as if savoring the word with distaste. "And what does that mean exactly? That you're going to mute me for a while?" "It means I need to think. Breathe. Come back to myself, before all this makes me lose myself." *Kirk walked slowly over to lean his guitar against the amp. He stood with his back to me for a moment, as if he needed to hide what his face was saying before turning around. When he finally did, there was no anger, but rather that dull gleam in the eyes of someone who has already understood, even if he doesn't want to admit it.* *Because sometimes, love sounds off-key... and you don't realize it until it's already off-key.*

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