Cliff Burton Imagine - Tumblr Posts
You Make Loving Fun ✍︎ Cliff Burton
for @metallicaislife ♡ for whom (the bell tolls) i love endlessly
Worn out cotton tickles the tip of your nose as you twist your body to hug the pillow beneath you, the furrow between your eyebrows concaving into a deep and temporary divot as you blindly shove your face into the pillowcase and groan out a halfhearted protest. The sun beams down on and in through the aged and crooked blinds, and you grimace as you feel the slight tinge of sweat culminate on the skin of your left arm and shoulder blade.
You exhale out a sigh of relief as you untangle a limb and use it to toss the embroidered and heavy blanket off of your upper half, and a smile twitches itself onto your yawning lips, as the faint and barely-there scent of your boyfriend's herbs and stale cigarette smoke wafts and dances its way up to you from the movement of the fabric.
You sluggishly sit up and immediately make eye contact with the most recent picture that was taken of Cliff and sent your way, via mail, and a deep sense of yearning and excited anxiety fills you to the brim as you take in the sight. In the photo you kept in safe keeping, your boyfriend can be seen grinning down at a letter you wrote only a few days prior, the delicate skin around his eyes stretching and wrinkling with glee as he takes in your adoration-filled words. Your fingers grip onto the fabric of his shirt surrounding you as you embrace the flutter that creates dormancy in your chest. You blink back the sting that starts behind your eyelids as you think of your partner, before turning your attention elsewhere, suddenly needing a distraction from the onslaught of emotions trying to overwhelm you so early in the morning.
The smile that once teased your lips comes back to, you unable to fight back the amusement you feel as soon as the sticker on the postcard to your left comes into view, as you turn your head away from the polaroid thumbtacked on the wall opposite of the bed.
'Metallica up your ass!' stares back up at you in an overused and obnoxious font, the beginning and ending of the band's logo's letters turning into plungers and bleeding their way down the paper in front of you in a muddy and russet brown color.
The heart beating inside of your chest pauses, and then sporadically beats as your partially numb fingertips run their way over the smudged and messy ink on the bottom of the postcard, your arms feeling like lead as they slowly wake themselves up.
Soon, is the only word scrawled on the dilapidated piece of paper, and you caress your bottom lip with the tip of your tongue as you take in a deep and unsteady breath. Biting back a wince as your uncovered and bare feet make contact with the chilled hardwood floor underneath you as you begin to stand up, your amused smile relaxes itself into a small grin as you make your way down into another room of the shared living space. Old group posters absorb themselves into the chipped, yellow paint of the hallway's walls and vinyl's haphazardly rest on uneven and homemade shelves, the sight greeting you warmly as you tiredly stumble through the small living room area and into the dimly lit kitchen.
You temporarily flutter your eyes shut as the coffee machine buzzes and vibrates to life against the scratched marble counter you lean against with your cocked hip, the sound comforting and grounding as you slowly begin to come to full consciousness. The tips of your nails tap against the hardened material of your favorite mug with a familiar beat, and your chest heaves in a silent laugh as you acknowledge the original source.
"Two hours, two hours." You murmur out into the chilled air, your eyes finally opening back up and making their way upward to stare up at the clock above the refrigerator. Your palm reddens as you press it against your now filled and warmed up coffee mug and you hum in contentment, before pushing yourself off of the countertop with your free elbow and making your way back toward the bedroom once again.
Reaching out to entangle your fingers in the multitude of band and long sleeve t-shirts Cliff left behind as you make your way past your guys' closet, you swallow a large gulp of the caffeinated drink and glance at the outfit you already have placed out and folded on top of a chair, on the outskirts of the bedroom. Anticipation enraptures you as you pitter over to the dress, and you mirthfully grin to yourself and against the heat emanating from your coffee as you picture his reaction to the ensemble. You already know what your reaction to seeing him again will be like, somewhat already familiarized with the sense of longing that comes with the partially long-distance relationship the two of you were in. But you hope the letter you wrote last night and the effort you put in to surprising him will show him how much you truly care for him, love him. And you also, maybe, want to floor him on his ass just a little bit. Lovingly, of course.
✉
Fleetwood Mac harmonizes out of the record player and into the frenzied air of the dining room as you run your way around the small apartment, the mirth and confidence you felt earlier being shoved back and away and replaced with exerted exhaustion. You let out a puff of air and bite back a giggle as it sways the hair resting against the crown of your head and your temples. You lean back and rest against the wall connecting the two nearest rooms and wipe the sudsy water off of the palms of your hands, the caffeine in your system now completely gone after the last hour and a half of cooking and getting yourself ready. You freeze in place at an unexpected and too-early sound coming from the front door only a few feet away from you; the grip you have on the apron you're trying to remove slipping as you suddenly hear a key slide into the deadbolt.
"Oh shit." You whisper, before hurriedly yanking the stained protectant off and tossing it over and onto the sofa, the doorknob now being twisted and pushed on with impatient haste.
You place your hands behind your back and wrap them around the opposite wrist, your stomach sucking in densely with a heavy inhalation as you ready yourself for the sight of your boyfriend. The heart in your chest begins to thunder and catapult as he shoves his way in, his arms weighed down by multiple duffle bags and heavy carry on's. Cliff visibly deflates as soon as you come into view, the annoyed expression on his facial features crumbling and his eyes widening with anew light. Before either one of you could utter out a single word, your feet begin to move on their own accord, and your arms encircle themselves around his broad shoulders as you guide him down into an abrupt embrace. Cliff lets out a surprised grunt as you make harsh contact with him, and he carefully allows his bags to thud against the welcoming rug as soon as he's sure your feet are in the clear and a safe distance away. Cliff gently guides you backwards and further into the warmth of the lived in space, his right and booted foot blindly kicking the door behind him closed as he wholly and intentionally focuses in on you.
"Hi, sweetheart." He coos out, his eyebrows raising in muted amusement as he feels you shake against him with poorly hidden tremors. His hand dips down to your lower back to rub soothing and placating circles in the intimate and sensitive skin, causing you to take in a deep breath of his scent and sigh out, feeling immense exasperated relief as he temporarily brings his body closer to yours.
"Where's the funeral?" Cliff muses, gently unwrapping your arms from around him and shuffling you until you're at an arm's length of distance. Large and warm calloused hands cup your cheeks as tears stream down from your eyes, and you let out a sound of embarrassment as soon as you look up at him and make bashful eye contact.
"I had the whole day planned out, and I swore to myself I wouldn't cry." You admit, an unfightable smile breaking through and ending the waterwork of tears as your boyfriend's warm and soft laughter fills the room around you two. "If a reunion between us doesn't start with you crying as soon as you see me, then you didn't miss me all that much." You raise an arm to playfully collide it with his arm but pause as you get lost in the way he looks down at you. Warmth spreads through you as Cliff caresses your cheeks and bends down to meet you halfway, his lips feeling more homelike than the apartment the two or you share.
The music playing from a room away bleeds into a cacophony of static and gentle white noise as he delicately breathes out against you and his stubble brushes against your cupid's bow. The hand you have paused and already raised goes to wrap around his wrist instead, and you let out a sigh of fulfillment as you feel his steady and thrumming heartbeat underneath your slightly trembling fingertips. The hand you aren't holding on to slides down and grips onto the back of your neck and onto your nape, the firm grasp making you melt into the embrace and fully relax. The never-ending worrying of his health and safety and if he'll make it home all in one piece finally stops and you nearly slump in overwhelming consolation, before letting out a whine as he pulls away and disconnects his lips from yours.
Cliff smiles widely, his eyes doing that endearing squint that you love so much as he takes in your appearance, inch by inch. Heat bleeds from the apples of your cheeks down to your chest, and you're close to shying away before he speaks up and begins his praise. "And look at you, my love, all dressed up for me." You let out a gentle bout of laughter as his hand glides to yours and raises to spin you in a dramatic and slow circle.
"And only for you," you reassure him in a quiet tone, your blush becoming a bright red hue as his eyes slightly darken at your affirmation. "Who takes care of me, no matter how far away he may be," Cliff quickly clears his throat and looks away as he starts to flush, only glancing over at you to playfully glare as you let out a sound of amused enjoyment. "Go and take your jacket and your shoes off for me, big boy. I made us dinner."
You watch as your boyfriend seems to physically shake his head to get out of his own stupor, and you bite onto the tip of your thumb as a wide grin sores your cheeks. You quickly turn around and slide the envelope underneath his tablecloth before he could see it and make your way over to your chair. You look up amid filling up both of your plates as you hear a throat clear itself and a zipper shudder to a close, and your lips gape open in surprise as you're greeted with your partner holding out a bouquet of flowers to you. Pink roses are hugged up against tulips and blooming sunflowers, and surrounding all of it, a ribbon tied in a perfect knot with all of your favorite colors.
"Cliff," you start and then stop, your eyes threatening to water as you take in his sheepish grin. His socked feet shuffle in barely contained nervousness, causing the bell bottoms of his flared jeans to rub against each other and irritate his ankle's skin. "I knew I was going to come home, and you'd be looking as gorgeous as you usually do, with a mountain full of food out on the table and our songs already playing. It really isn't that big of a deal, baby. Just wanted to let you know that I was thinking about you on the way over here and wanted to gift you a little token of appreciation." Cliff feels his heart flutter in his chest as he takes in your wide eyes and unsteady hands, fighting back the urge to discard the flowers and give you comfort instead.
"Everything you do for me is a big deal, because it comes from you," you swallow thickly and force yourself to take in a deep breath before continuing. "The man who's taught me what healthy love is and what a relationship is supposed to be and feel like. You're everything, especially to me, so every little thing you do for me will always be insurmountable." Cliff lets out a disbelieving laugh as his eyes begin to tear up, and he quickly makes his way over to the table to sit next to you, as close as physically possible without bringing you onto his lap. You both wince at the sound of his chair squeaking out in protest against the tiles underneath it and let out shy laughs at the closeness once you two meet in the middle. No matter how many years the two of you have been together and have met up after a long leg of a tour, it all still felt so brand new and refreshing. And as you thumb a thick strand of hair behind your ear and glance over to see the content smile on your partner's face, you silently wish for the butterflies and the excitement to never end. And as he turns to look at you, he silently does the same, his hands reaching over to entangle themselves in yours to hold you close.
✉
A whoosh flies out of you as you twist your body to face Cliff halfway, your now protruding tummy protesting the movement as you fight to keep the atrocious amount of food you ate down. Your boyfriend looks no better off, the overeating seeming like a good idea at first, but soon becoming a sullen regret as he slumps back in his dining room chair and brings your feet up to rest against the jean material hugging his slender thighs. Your eyes flit over to the dessert you made early last night resting on the stove, and Cliff lets out a deep groan as he follows your line of sight.
"Absolutely fucking not." He refuses, squinting up at you from his lowered position, his face set in a mild grimace and his fingertips drawing firm figure 8's in your bare calves.
"You'll regret saying that when the crust hardens in the morning and the cherry filling dries up." You retort, letting out a chortle as he sarcastically rolls his eyes at your rebuttal. "As long as the pie's the only thing drying up around here, I don't mind."
You smack his shoulder, causing him to beam wide and let out a cackle as he takes in your incredulous expression. "Clifford Lee Burton, you are nothing less of a pervert!" You yell, before sharing a grin as you both acknowledge the hypocrisy in your playful outburst. You were almost always the first one to initiate intimacy between the two of you, shocking the musician who was already known for not being too shy himself once he feels comfortable and in tune with everyone around him. He couldn't help it, turning into a softened mess whenever you were around, his hesitancy only proving his utmost respect for you and only going after whatever you were ready for at any given moment.
"C'mere real quick, I've got something else for you." He murmurs after taking in a few deep breaths, a hand on your leg stopping all movement and removing itself to reach behind his back and grab onto an item from one of his pockets. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, before looking over at the incredible bouquet lying against the edge of the table. He had already done more than enough; he was here, and he was present, and that was all you could possibly want and ask for.
You relay the same sentiment out loud and get a small smile in response, and an almond-colored envelope waved in your direction. Your eyes widen in surprise at the rarity of him writing you a letter, his thing more of a late-night phone call after an exhilarating performance and him falling asleep to the sound of your voice. "I figured I'd write you one back after the dozens you wrote me over the past few months that have helped keep me sane, with all of the traveling and roadies we've got running all around. Might not be as good as one of yours, but." Cliff shrugs nonchalantly, but the glassiness of his eyes present a wide array of nervousness and timidness. You hide an enamored grin behind the gift as you feel his leg begin to bounce underneath your own.
"I'd accept and take anything you give me without complaint, and you know that." You almost whisper, the pads of your thumbs indenting themselves into the envelope that's nestled in your palms, as you smile down at the messy scrawling of the nickname that he's been calling you since high school.
Sunshine.
You tear open the sealed backing of the letter with excited haste and ignore the sound of your boyfriend's amused laughter, his hands encircling their way around your calves once again as you unfold the contents inside. Your heart stops in time as you grasp onto a mini polaroid picture of the two of you on your first date. October 12th, 1979, is written on the bottom of the image, and you let out a tear-filled laugh as you run a fingertip over the crooked heart drawn near your connected hands. You quickly unfold the letter and begin to read it with rapt and undeterred attention.
To my sunshine, who I met back in 1979. August 31st, to be exact. I can almost remember it like it was yesterday. You floated into homeroom like you owned the place, although you expression screamed that you wanted to be anywhere else at that moment. Your undeniable beauty is what caught my attention at first, but your personality is what caused me to stick around. You enrapture me, with your kindness and your openness, the way you welcome all kinds of people in and give them emotional shelter. I've never met someone like you before, and I don't think I ever will. I've known you for 2,372 days, and I think I've been in love with you for every single one of them. I cannot picture myself without you, and when I do, I feel nothing but alone and starving. Even when I'm on tour and I'm surrounded by the smell of the other guys and enough weed to power a greenhouse, I still feel your presence around me. You are my everything, and everything else, all at once. And you complete me. Thank you for always sticking by my side, and for believing in the band when we had absolutely nothing. You cheered us on while we were ripping out foam from the walls to make beds in a one room apartment, and you continue to cheer us on in front of hundreds of thousands of people today. Your love is universal, and I hope to be the main person you show it to until we're old and withered, but still young together and at heart. I cannot wait to be able to come home and to have you and hold you in my arms, I've been dreaming about it and yearning for it for months. Hold on, because I'm coming home to you. Love yours, your bellbottom wearing, hippie asshole.
"Six years in counting, and sixty-six more to go." You nearly weep out, your body instinctively reaching out for Cliff as you drop the letter and photo in your lap. Cliff instantly lifts and brings you into and onto his own, gently guiding your head to rest on his chest as he runs his large palms up and down your wracking and trembling back.
"Everything is alright, sweet thing. Just breathe for me." Your partner reassures, the cadence in his voice and his natural comforting aura causing you to calm down much faster than you normally would if he wasn't around.
"Doing so well for me, always so good." Cliff smiles down at you with a soft look as you blearily look up into his bright, green eyes. "When was the last time I told you how much I love you?" You ask him once you trust your voice enough not to crack or break, and an unsteady smile makes its way on to your lips as your boyfriend bends down to place a warm kiss on the center of your forehead.
"Yesterday morning. And then yesterday afternoon, and then last night, again." Cliff drones out, the faux tone of annoyance in his voice making you shake your head in mirth and rest it against his chest once again. You place a kiss there and beam to yourself as he shivers from the notion, before leaning back and sliding your hand underneath his tablecloth to get your own letter this time. "How about I remind you again?"
Cliff lets out a warm spell of laughter as you hand him over a matching-colored envelope, almost the same in size and all. "I bet you won't one up me at all," he jokes to you, before pausing midway while opening it. "Read it to me? Missed the sound of your actual voice. Sweden's phone reception is actual shit, and you sound much better in person." You squint your eyes at his obvious ass kissing but turn around to rest against his front and to lean your head against his clothed shoulder. "Alright, brat."
You lift your hand for the envelope and let out a huff as he playfully tugs it away from you, going to fully open it himself and then placing it in your awaiting hand. You momentarily close your eyes at the sensation of his stubble making contact with your exposed collarbone, before opening them once again to start reading your letter out loud.
"To my hippie rockstar, I miss you even though we already spoke over the phone tonight. The excitement in your voice when you told me about how filled and interactive the crowd was made me want to cry. It reminds me of the times we used to sit in your parent's living room and watch the tapes your parents filmed of you, Scott and Connie. You banging on empty and already-eaten spaghetti cans and your older siblings playing their actual instruments, but you still kept up with them with your insane enthusiasm. I know Connie is proud of you, she told me the other night when I called her home. But I know Scott would be losing his shit right now. He'd be the first person in line at every single venue, and the last person standing out there, cheering you on while everyone else headed on home. I know he isn't with us anymore, but he's still your older brother no matter how you look at it, and I just know he's exuberant and standing on the tips of his toes looking down at you. We all are, because you are our star. I knew it the first moment I saw you, in that overworn jean jacket you still somehow fit into today, and that bellbottom jean style you still hold on to, that we all secretly love. When I first saw you and spoke to you outside of class, I knew you were different. The shy smiles you'd send my way and the little notes we'd pass to each other when the teacher wasn't looking. The first time you held my hand on our first date and refused to let go until I promised you that I'd allow you to take me out on another one. You are tenacious and hardworking and everyone around you is so proud, including me. I cannot wait to see you and our best friends on tour in person once again, and I can't wait to see how we end up in the future. Together, I know that. Hopefully in a home much larger and filled with our children and future nieces and nephews, and with that specific type of breed of dog you've always wanted. But even if in fifteen years down the road and we're still in this old apartment, with the same crooked blinds and the same scratched marble countertops, I would still be content. Because as long as I have you by my side and still feel you even if you're not here with me physically, I'll still have you in my heart and you'll always be here. You are my other half, my overindulgent, loving and caring, hippie rockstar. And I wouldn't have you any other way. Until I see you again, your Sunshine. Six years in counting, and sixty-six more to go."
You sniffle once you finish, the tip of your nose being tickled and irritated by a teardrop refusing to fall down. The music is the only sound emanating throughout the apartment, but you know that your boyfriend held on to every single word and syllable, if his shaking shoulders were any indication and proof of that. You let out a coo as you feel his arms encircle their way around your middle from behind, and you twist your head to the side to place a kiss on his now damp and tear-stained jawline.
"We're all so proud of you. You know that, right?" You ask him quietly, not wanting to fright him or break the delicate scene the two letters of yours made. You feel him nod against you and you let go of your letter to wrap your hands around his. "You do so well for everyone, and if I have to remind you myself every day, then I will."
"I love you so much." Cliff declares, the tremble in his voice causing you to press yourself against him even more, wanting to give him as much comfort as physically possible. "And I love you." You answer, simply and softly. Because it was the truth, and you always will. You made that promise to him five years ago on your first anniversary, and you intend to keep it until that right is taken away from you.
Cliff kisses the tears away of his that landed on your shoulders during your reading, and carefully scoots his chair back until it lightly raps itself against the yellow-colored wall. Before you could even ask what he was doing, you're spontaneously picked up with little to no effort, and then placed unsteadily on your bare feet. "Let's dance." He says, before dramatically holding a hand out to you and bowing his head. You let out a confused laugh but decide to go with the flow anyway, reaching your hand up to grasp onto his.
A squeal exits your lips as you're playfully tugged around the dining room table, and on to the crossroads of the living room and the kitchen. You instinctually wrap your arms around his shoulders as soon as he lifts you once again to place your feet on top of his. "I don't want the first day of me being back to be nothing but tears and stomachaches. Granted, the food was amazing, and your letter means the world to me, but I finally have you back in my arms after so long, and I want to take full advantage of it."
Your eyes soften as you look up into his and nod mutely, his hands caressing your lower waist bringing warmth back into you as your combined feet chill from the minor draft breezing itself inside from the front door.
You place a gentle kiss on his chin before resting your forehead against his chest and closing your eyes, the sound of the song that you two danced to on your first date crooning around the two of you like a comforting serenade as you both sway back and forth.
'Sweet, wonderful you. You make me happy with the things you do. Oh, can it be so? This feeling follows me wherever I go.'
"One day," Cliff starts, causing you to hum against him for him to continue. "One day, I'm going to make enough money and I'll propose, and we'll get married, and we can go and look for that perfect home you're always talking about. The white picket fence and the two floors, the walk-in closet, with a garage that's big enough to fit the both of our car's in."
"As long as you're here with me, I don't mind where we go or where we'll end up. That's just fairytales, you and I are the present, so let's focus on that instead," you lean back to look up in his eyes, that already seemed to be looking down at you. "You are my home, and we've got all of the time in the world. So, let's just focus on what we've got now, because that's all that I truly need."
Cliff nods back at you and slightly raises you off of the tops of his feet to bring you into a warm hug and embrace. You wrap your legs around his waist like it's second nature, and you feel complete and at ease as he rests his head in the space between your neck and your shoulder.
"But I'll accept that marriage proposal right away, if you were serious about that one." Your boyfriend lets out a laugh against your flushed skin and you grin widely to yourself as his vibration tickles your skin.
Cliff momentarily glances over at his jean jacket and the little red box that peeks out of its breast pocket, before resting his head against you once again and tightening his grip around you.
For once is his life, or in the past six years of the best part of his life he's spent with you, he's finally got one up on you. And he cannot wait to see your reaction. And he also, maybe, wants to floor you on your ass just a little bit. Lovingly, of course.
'You, you make loving fun. It's all I want to do.'