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psychic-refugee · 1 month

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Wenclair as a ship in itself I understand. It can be fun, and interpretation is up to the fan content creator. Wyler, Wenvier, Enjax, Wenclay and AroAce Wednesday I think are all equally valid interpretations. Just as any other combination.

Shipping non canon relationships is a choice made by personal preference.

I less understand the expectations of Wenclair being actually possible to become canon. I feel like it’s only possible in the sense that “anything is possible” because no one can ever truly predict the future.

However,

Tim Burton does not have a history of producing LGBTQ+ focused projects. There are barely any background characters that are prominently and explicitly queer in his long CV.

The Ottingers are outliers and background characters with a second of screentime. I have doubts we’ll ever see them again, and honestly, they are the farthest I think Burton is willing to go.

Millar also doesn’t have a history of writing main cast LGBTQ+. He and Gough only reference the relationship between Enid and Wednesday as “friendship” and “sisterhood” when confronted with the idea of Wenclair. (NME, 24 Dec 2023).

Netflix has a documented poor history of treatment of shows with prominent lesbian leads (First Kill, I Am Not OK With This, and Warrior Nun).

Given all of that, I’m also not in the writers’ room, so time will ultimately tell if my skepticism is warranted.

Nonetheless, there is overwhelming evidence that Wenclairs have detrimentally affected Jenna and Emma. I don’t see them wanting Wenclair to happen and they certainly aren’t entertaining the mere possibility of it any longer.

Jenna has not mentioned Wenclair in a positive light since that one interview in Teen Vogue, 9 Dec 2022. It’s been over a year since; a lot of stuff has happened. Plenty of reasons for Jenna to have changed her mind.

Emma made a non-committal comment about “how anything is possible” when it comes to S2 and Wenclair. (Variety, 30 Jan 2023) But, again, that was over a year ago and a lot of toxic behaviour has happened since then.

Just as with Jenna, Emma has a lot of motivation now to not support Wenclair becoming canon.

Emma also pushed off the possibility of Wenclair beyond S2, she gave the excuse of Wednesday needing a “season of singleness.” Id. Wednesday WAS single in S1, she never claimed anyone as an SO. It sounds more like Emma was a hostage trying to appease her kidnappers by telling them what they wanted to hear. She pushed off the idea of Wenclair to a season that’s not guaranteed to materialize. That’s called passing the buck. If S3 never happens, then she’s not responsible for adhering to an implied promise of Wenclair being possible at all.

Now, Emma has made it a point to stress that shipping is fine as long as it doesn’t cross over into real people. (NME, 27 June 2024).

Wenclairs failed to do that in a spectacular fashion.

Emma admits that Wenclair was a joke they told amongst themselves when it first became apparent it was a popular ship. Id. Wenclair is “funny” to them because they never intended for it to be a ship, but fans choose to interpret it that way.

People ran with Jenna’s comments, but I believe she was supporting it in jest in the way Emma reported in June. Jenna even framed Wenclair only happening in “a perfect world.” (9 Dec 2022) She said it would only happen in an impossible circumstance. I don’t get how people took that to mean she was trying behind the scenes to make it happen, or that it was a secret interpretation fans were meant to figure out on their own.

I think if she knew how much her “fans” would sexually harass her and Emma with the idea of Wenclair, she would not have said it at all. I think with how careful Jenna is with what she posts now, she knows better to say things off the cuff or in jest.

Wenclairs have taught her harsh lessons on how to interact with social media and interviews.

I think it says a lot that Jenna has only been photographed with her stylist in the past several years. She has had plenty of opportunities to do pictures with the cast since filming started, specifically Emma and yet…

Wenclairs have been so rabid and hostile to anyone challenging their fantasy that she only feels safe being seen with Enrique Melendez, her employee, or her family. That’s not normal.

I think there’s a reason why Wenclairs hyperfocus on Jenna making the ship happen and not Emma.

Jenna clearly doesn’t mind doing roles that involve sapphic elements (Miller’s Girl and The Fallout). The same cannot be said about Emma. Wenclairs are so quick to jump on Jenna’s CV of “kissing women” and pointing to that as proof of her queerness. By THEIR same logic, what does it mean if Emma has not done any role where she kisses women?

Jenna’s a great actress and I think could have chemistry and a rapport with a tree if the script called for it. I think she didn’t mind the idea of Wenclair at the time (regardless of how farfetched the possibility was or that it was never originally or seriously considered), but I don’t think she ever intended for people to interpret her characterization of Wednesday that way.

I think both Jenna and Emma regret implying or joking about the possibility of Wenclair as the fans started to sexually harass them on IG with comments on how they are for sure lesbians (neither have stated so) under their posts that have nothing to do with the other as well as everywhere else. Neither can celebrate their own separate accomplishments without Wenclairs mentioning the ship or obnoxiously asking “Where’s Jenna/Emma?”

Wenclairs also post explicit art of Jenna and Emma’s likeness in public forums such as Twitter/IG (and tag them or send it to them directly), and harass male coworkers Jenna has romantic scenes with (Finest Kind). Emma’s male co-star in AGGGTM has also experienced harassment.

Jenna has outright said she quit Twitter because she was sent explicit AI art of herself right after Wednesday took off.

I 100% believe it was sent by a Wenclair account and it was sexual Wenclair art, given the timing and their appalling behaviour to date.

“I ended up deleting [Twitter] about two, three years ago because of the influx after [Wednesday] had come out, these absurd images and photos, and I already was in a confused state that I just deleted it…It was disgusting, and it made me feel bad. It made me feel uncomfortable” (Entertainment Weekly, 25 Aug 2024) (emphasis added).

I think Jenna coming out and specifically saying there would be no romance for Wednesday (Digital Spy, 8 June 2023) after the December 2022 article is another direct consequence of Wenclair harassment. She changed her tune very explicitly and Netflix has not contradicted her, nor have the showrunners, writers, or Burton ever shown committed support for Wenclair. At most it’s “we’re open to it,” and that was before the harassment got as bad as it is.

Jenna’s playfulness is completely absent in all these interviews since Wenclairs started to harass her. Whatever they were “open to,” the Wenclairs shut it violently.

I wasn’t aware until recently that the Wenclairs were so creepy, invasive, and lacking even the barest of social graces that they were also harassing Jenna’s family.

Here is Aliyah, Jenna’s sister, scoffing and clearly exasperated by the shipping. I highly doubt this frustration comes from being asked just once, she’s probably fielded this question way too many times. She no longer follows Emma on IG.

There are also reports of other IG Lives by Aliyah outright stating that the shipping was out of control and detrimental to their family. Of course Wenclairs are completely crickets about this.

It’s bad enough Wenclairs shove their personal fantasies in Jenna and Emma’s face, but they do it to their siblings? Likely when the siblings were minors or barely adults as Aliyah is only 20.

Emma in the Variety, 30 Jan 2023 article also says her sister would show her stuff, meaning her family was also getting exposed to it.

The latest Vanity Fair article states that Jenna won’t ever make any romantic relationship public. (6 August 2024). She states that her relationships are “hers” and that her fans can’t separate the real her and the celebrity they have built up in her head. Id.

She makes an effort to use gender neutral terms when it comes to a romantic partner. I respect that she doesn’t want to come out as either heterosexual, homosexual, or anywhere in between or outside of the binary. That is her choice, I think there’s a vast difference between keeping things private and being in the closet. Either way it’s also NONE OF ANYONE’S BUSINESS.

But I think it’s undeniable that even though she would get a lot of support if she were queer, Wenclairs have made it so unbearable that she won’t reveal a partner or come out at all.

Wenclairs have made it unsafe and hostile for her to acknowledge her own sexuality publicly, much less a partner.

I think it’s too late for Wenclairs to back off, it looks like they already ruined the friendship or at best drove it underground if the total lack of social media content of them together is indicative of anything.

If they are still friends, then they don’t trust Wenclairs with knowing about it and don’t want to share it with them. It looks like Jenna doesn’t want to share any friendship publicly anymore.

Unless it’s to promo movies or a brand deal, she rarely posts pictures on social media anymore. It’s very rare she posts personal pictures of herself doing non-work outings. She’s keeping her personal life extremely close to her chest.

How exactly do Wenclairs expect a friendship to survive constant, sexual harassment? How can they hang out together when everything they do together is sexualized? Why would anyone think the actresses would encourage a storyline that would invite more?

How do they expect Jenna to support Wenclair to become canon if it means her future male coworkers will be harassed? If it means any romantic partner who isn’t Emma in the future will be harassed? If it means that if she were indeed involved with Emma, that there would probably be a bigger explosion of porn that is shoved in their face?

How do they expect Jenna or Emma to support Wenclair if their families are being harassed about it?

Wenclair has been a curse upon them, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

#jenna ortega #emma meyers #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #wednesday netflix

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allmoshnobrain · 7 months

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𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫: 𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 01 of 06 | masterpost

word count: 5,1k | ao3 link | fic's playlist

✦ on this chapter: NSFW!!!, james hetfield x female!oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, angst, grief, mxf sex, unprotected sex

✦ a/n: The epilogue's finally here! As I said before, I had to split it into a few parts because it turned out really long and I wanted to tie all loose ends lol I haven't finished writing it yet, but I'll try to keep posting twice a week. Many things will have changed in this, since it's set mostly in 1992. We will have some flashbacks, but I dated all the parts so it wouldn't get confusing. Hope you enjoy the read, feedback is welcome! ❤

December 31, 1991

San Francisco in December hit me with that familiar chill as soon as I stepped off the plane; I quickly slipped on my gloves and shrugged into my coat, letting out a sigh as the cold nipped at my nose and fogged up my breath. It felt weird being back after so long, back to the city where I'd lived, loved, and grown up all those years ago.

I’d bid farewell to San Francisco two years back when my art career started picking up steam, making the move to LA seem like the logical next step. Coming back to the city stirred up a pain that ran deep in my bones — a constant reminder of the happiness I once knew but could never quite recapture, a bittersweet flashback to all I'd experienced — and all that had slipped away.

Lars had invited friends and family for a massive bash at his vacation home, ringing in the end of the year and welcoming 1992 with a bang. I had a hunch the extravagant party had something to do with his recent divorce, after a rushed marriage which had barely lasted two years. He'd even sent his driver, Simon, to scoop me up from the airport.

It was a relief not to have to wrangle a taxi amidst the chaos of folks flying in for the last flights before New Year's Eve. Slipping into the Jaguar, I peeled off my sunglasses with a sigh; those shades had become my shield against being recognized in the last few months. Ever since I'd started doing TV gigs, getting spotted by strangers and paparazzi was becoming a regular thing. It came with the territory, sure, but sometimes, a girl just wanted a little peace and quiet.

"Good afternoon, Miss Burton," Simon greeted me with a smile as I hopped into the car, and I shot one right back at him. "Mr. Ulrich was really looking forward to your arrival."

"Thanks, Simon. Are the others already there?" I inquired, my gaze drifting out the window as we cruised away from the airport.

"Yes, Mr. Hammett and Mr. Newsted are. Mr. Hetfield will show up later; I'll swing back to get him after dropping you off. And Miss Summers won't be joining us."

I let out a sigh. Ever since Cliff had passed, Leanne had drifted away from the group, moving to another city and cutting most ties. She said it hurt too much to stick around — too many reminders of him . I got where she was coming from and harbored no hard feelings, but her absence had definitely put some distance between us over the years.

"Well, I'll have to shoot her a call later and wish her a Happy New Year," I mused absentmindedly. "Do you know if my aunt and uncle are gonna make it?"

"Yes, I'll pick them up later," Simon replied, earning a small smile from me. Despite Cliff's passing hitting us all hard, Aunt Jan and Uncle Ray had been a steady presence for me and the guys. They'd practically become like second parents to all of us over the years, always there in the Metallica routine, whether it was on the professional front or at family and friends' get-togethers.

It took us a bit to roll up to Lars' vacation home, a big old mansion tucked away in one of San Francisco’s most expensive neighborhoods, a far cry from the tiny house we used to live in back in the day. Simon pulled up at the main entrance; the door was wide open, and I caught a glimpse of the staff buzzing around, putting the final touches on the shindig. Judging by the crates of booze being unloaded, this was gonna be more than just a cozy New Year's bash with a few friends.

"Thanks for the ride, Simon," I said, grabbing my bag and popping open the car door. "Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year, Miss."

It didn't take me long to spot Lars; the moment I stepped into the foyer, there he was, barking orders to his assistant at lightning speed, champagne glass already in hand. I couldn't help but grin; classic Lars, hitting the booze before anyone else. He turned my way at the sound of my footsteps echoing on the polished floor, breaking into a smile as he strode over.

"Nore!" he exclaimed, pulling me into a bear hug. "I'm so stoked you made it."

"Hey, Lars," I grinned, returning the hug. It had been a hot minute since I'd seen him or any of the guys; 1991 had been a whirlwind for all of us, and work had pretty much consumed our lives at warp speed.

"How was the trip? Did Simon take good care of you?"

"Yeah, it was smooth sailing. Simon's a pro, always has been. But seriously, Lars, you shouldn't have him grinding away on the last day of the year."

"Oh, he's getting compensated handsomely for it, don't you worry. Hey, you remember your way around the house, right? Kirk and Jason are probably chilling in the sauna. Oh, Allie!" Lars called out to his assistant, a dark-haired girl who looked eager to please. "Got the guest list handy? Can you show our girl here where she'll be crashing tonight?" Allie nodded briskly, and Lars flashed me a smile, turning back to me. "Party kicks off at 9 PM, so I'm just tying up loose ends. Make yourself comfy, grab some grub if you're hungry, alright? Consider the place your own."

I trailed after Allie to my room, a fancy suite with a king-size bed that looked like it had never been slept in. Lars always had a flair for the extravagant, but Metallica's success in recent years seemed to have kicked that into overdrive; his new vacation house was straight-up lavish, with more rooms than I could count, a massive pool, a sauna, and even a private movie theater.

I decided to chill in my room until the party kicked off; as much as I was itching to catch up with everyone, I was straight-up wiped out. Lately, I'd been craving more time alone, away from the chaos of the ragers my friends used to live for. But hey, I knew we'd all cross paths eventually, and sure enough, when I finally made my grand entrance, one of the first faces I spotted was Kirk's, rolling in with James, who apparently had arrived while I was hiding out.

"Nore!" Kirk grinned, pulling me into a hug. I chuckled, hugging him back. "Damn, you're looking good!"

"Thanks, Kirk. It's all Lars' doing; he picked out the dress," I replied, nodding at the long red number I was sporting. I’d found it laid out on the bed in my room with a note telling me to rock it for the night. I eyed Kirk's suit, a slick navy number with gold accents. "You're looking sharp yourself."

"Yeah, that's all Lars' handiwork too. Dude's on a mission to throw the ultimate party. But hey, who am I to complain? There's champagne!" Kirk chuckled, clinking his glass against mine.

"Hey, Nore." I glanced up at the sound of his voice, meeting James' intense blue gaze. A faint smile tugged at my lips; being around him always stirred up a whirlwind of emotions that were hard to untangle. Love, sure, but also heartache. It stung, yet it felt oddly comforting. Like coming home.

"Hi, James," I greeted him softly. Kirk shot us a quick look.

“Well, I'm gonna go track down our host. Catch you guys later!" He excused himself. I watched Kirk saunter off, a slight jolt running through me as James' hand landed on the small of my back.

"Have you grabbed a bite to eat yet? Lars said you got here before me," he murmured, his voice low. I looked up at him, seeing his eyes scanning the crowd of guests, a champagne flute in his other hand.

"Not yet."

"Want me to snag something for you? Lars went all out with the spread this time."

"I'm good, James."

"Didn't drag your boyfriend along to the party?" he quipped, and I couldn't help but snort.

"What boyfriend?"

"That... Brian guy? I dunno, it's hard to keep up with all the dudes you've cycled through since we split," he remarked, a hint of irony dancing in his eyes. I furrowed my brow; was he joking or dead serious? It was getting tougher to read James these days.

"If you wanna know if I'm seeing someone, just ask," I shot back sharply. He let out a sardonic laugh and rolled his eyes. I held his gaze. "And what about your 'Nothing Else Matters' chick? She bailed on the party?"

"I ended things with her," he replied, a hint of annoyance creeping into his tone. "And I've told you that song wasn't about her."

"Then who was it about?"

"Do I really need to spell it out?" he growled, stepping closer. I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze head-on. James and I had been locked in this dance for a while now, his anger clashing with my pain like sparks flying. It didn't shock me that Kirk wanted no part of our little reunion.

"I'm gonna go track down Lars," I tossed back dryly before strutting off. I could practically feel James rolling his eyes as he polished off the rest of his champagne in one gulp.

I didn't cross paths with James again until much later, well after midnight had come and gone. We’d all gathered on the balcony to catch the fireworks, dishing out Happy New Year wishes and hugs left and right. When the crowd filtered back inside, I lingered behind, a cigarette dangling between my fingers as I stared up at the star-studded sky, grappling with the bitter irony that another year had kicked off without Cliff here to see it.

"I did wanna know, actually," a voice cut through the silence, jolting me. I turned to find James leaning against one of the pillars, his gaze fixed on me with a serious edge.

"What?" I murmured, my heart picking up its pace as he closed the gap between us.

"You said if I wanted to know if you were seeing someone, I just had to ask. And I did wanna know," he replied, so close now I could smell the booze on his breath.

"I'm not," I answered, and he grunted, satisfied, before pulling me into his arms, his lips finding mine.

He tasted like beer and tobacco, his lips moving against mine in a familiar dance, the echoes of an old tune. No matter how much time passed or how much it hurt, James and I always found our way back to each other.

"You know that song was about you," he murmured, his kisses trailing down my neck, his grip tightening on my hips as he pulled me closer, our bodies pressed together. "Do you really have to mess with me like this?"

I didn't answer; instead, I grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him back to me, his arms holding me tight as he kissed me with urgency, nipping at my lower lip. He wasn't holding back as he pushed me against the balcony railing, his hands hiking up the skirt of my dress, his touch igniting a fire in my belly.

"My room or yours?" I gasped against his lips.

"Does yours come with a bathroom?" he quipped, and I chuckled softly, nodding. "Figures. Lars always hooks you up with the best ones."

"Mine, then," I murmured, a faint smile playing on my lips.

We made our way up to my room, James guiding me through the labyrinth of hallways and rooms in the house with his hand in mine. The moment the door clicked shut behind us, his hands were back on me, pulling me close as his lips trailed hungrily along my neck, tugging at the straps of my dress.

"James, you're gonna wreck the dress..." I protested weakly, my fingers tangled in his hair. He grunted, yanking it down, and I heard a rip that probably meant the garment was already ruined anyway.

"I'll get you another one," he grumbled. "As many as you want."

With urgency matching his, I stripped off his shirt, a few buttons popping off and bouncing across the bedroom floor. Before I could even blink, he lifted me, depositing me on the bed and positioning himself over me. I kicked off my heels, sending them flying into some forgotten corner, releasing a low moan as he pressed against me, his arousal evident through the fabric of his pants. There was no time for calm contemplation, no room for hesitation or second-guessing if this was the right move; our desire for each other was insatiable, ravenous and desperate, and I felt it would consume me completely if we didn't satisfy it right then and there.

I sighed as his lips reclaimed mine, his hand tangled in my hair, gripping it firmly as I worked on unbuttoning his pants, easing them down. He pulled back for a moment, shedding the rest of his clothes before sliding off my panties, emitting a low groan as he entered me. I shut my eyes, clutching onto his arms tightly, my nails digging into his skin. He wasn't holding back; and honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way.

"Look at me," he growled, his hand guiding my chin as he thrust into me, sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body. I obeyed, meeting his gaze as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, my mouth slightly agape as I let out small, sharp moans. He shifted his hand to my neck, pressing his forehead against mine.

"James..." I moaned, my grip on his arms tightening as he picked up the pace, sending shivers down my spine. "James..."

"I wanna ruin you. You get that?" he growled, sending a jolt of pleasure through my body at his words. Of course, I got it. What were we if not each other's downfall? What more could I want than for him to consume me entirely, even if just for a moment? For all the pain and heartache to vanish, if only while he was inside me. "I want you to be mine, all mine, all mine... Fuck..." he buried his face in my neck as my climax washed over me, my body clenching around him, my legs wrapping around his hips, pulling him deeper. "Nore..." he groaned, his own release crashing over him, filling me completely as he continued to move until the intensity of his peak forced him to collapse onto me.

He rolled away, settling beside me, leaving a pulsating void inside me where pain and pleasure danced together in my womb and heart. I shut my eyes, focusing on steadying my breath, and let out a soft chuckle when I felt his lips on my neck, his arms pulling me close in a fleeting but genuine comfort.

"My girl..." he murmured against my ear, sending a delicious shiver down my spine. I'd lost track of how many times he'd called me that, but it never failed to stir something in me. "Why do you keep running from me? Don't you know I love you so?"

I opened my eyes, locking onto his gaze, a blend of longing and yearning reflected back at me. Nestling into his embrace, I placed a soft kiss on his lips, feeling his gaze soften into a tender warmth that sent tingles down my spine.

"I'm here now," I murmured, tracing my fingers gently over his face. He sighed, closing his eyes, intertwining our hands and pressing kisses to my palm, one, two, three times before pulling me close in a tight hug.

Peace hadn't been a frequent visitor in my life for a while, but in that moment, I found it. I'd always find my way back to James, and he'd always find his way back to me. That certainty coursed through my veins, leaving me feeling whole in a way I hadn't in ages.

The next day, we'd be back in the spotlight, the distance between us creeping back in like a toxic fog. But for now, on that night, I was content. I was at peace.

I was home.

September 28, 1986

The shrill ring of the phone pierced through the silence of the empty house, yanking me out of a deep slumber with a groan. I blinked, the heavy rain drumming against the bedroom windows registering in my foggy mind. Stretching out across the bed, I groped for James, only to remember he wasn't there; my boyfriend was off on tour with my cousin and my friends. That left just Leanne and me holding down the fort.

Dragging myself out of bed, my eyes still weighed down by sleep, I shrugged into my robe and slipped on my slippers before trudging out of the room, descending the stairs at a snail's pace. Flicking on the lights in the living room, I scowled at the clock — it wasn't even seven in the morning. This better be an important call, I grumbled inwardly. I was itching to crawl back under the covers.

"Hey," I mumbled, stifling a yawn and rubbing my eyes in an attempt to shake off the sleepiness.

"Hey, Nore," James' voice crackled through the receiver, but in my grogginess, I barely registered the tense undertone, so unlike his usual laid-back demeanor.

"Babe..." I murmured, another yawn threatening to escape. "I know you're in a different time zone, but it's way early here. I was out cold..."

"I'm sorry. I had to call," he replied, and this time, the strain in his voice didn't go unnoticed. I furrowed my brow, sinking down onto the couch beside the phone, suddenly wide awake.

"Is everything alright? Did something happen?"

"Yeah, something happened. Is Leanne there with you?"

"I think she's asleep. Why?"

"We had a crash," he said, and my heart clenched, a surge of unease and dread knotting my stomach. "We were on the road... Late at night. The driver lost control..."

My breath hitched, and in that instant, a sense of foreboding washed over me. Something felt off, deeply unsettling. It just didn't add up. I knew I should be getting this call from someone else. I knew my cousin; I knew Cliff would want to speak to me and Leanne directly, to break the news himself.

Like when he shared he was leaving Long Beach for San Francisco. Like when he announced he was joining Metallica. Like when he called to tell me Dave got booted from the band, or when he rang to say Metallica was wrapping up tour and he wanted me there for their first hometown gig after dropping the first album.

Something wasn't right.

"James," I whispered, my voice trembling, tears pricking at my eyes as if I already knew what he was going to say. "What happened to Cliff?"

January 1st, 1992

I jolted awake, my cheeks damp with tears that refused to cease flowing. I sighed heavily, my breath shaky, the early morning sunlight just beginning to seep through the curtains. James' arms were wrapped snugly around me, his breath warm against my shoulder as he softly snored.

That dream, again.

It always seemed to resurface whenever I was near James. Maybe my subconscious still linked him to that chilly morning, to that phone call that’d shattered any hope of happiness for the rest of that year and beyond. A call that tore a hole in the fabric of my world, leaving an ache in my heart that felt like it would never mend.

The call that had shattered my heart for good, leaving no chance of putting the pieces back together.

I carefully shifted James' arm away from me, slipping out of bed and heading to the bathroom. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I took in my tired blue eyes framed by dark circles, my brown hair tumbling in waves over my shoulders, and the red marks on my neck and collarbone left by James the night before. With a sigh, I opened the bathroom cabinet, my hands trembling slightly as I reached for the pills I knew would help ease my anxiety.

I lacked the courage to return to bed, so I nestled into one of the armchairs in the corner of the room, observing James' peaceful slumber as the daylight gradually filled the space. He stirred awake soon after, as if sensing my absence beside him, his eyelids fluttering before he groggily opened his eyes. With a puzzled frown, he reached out for the bed, only to find it empty, prompting him to scan the room. A sigh escaped him when he spotted me, a sense of relief washing over his features that tugged at my heartstrings.

"Bad dream?" he inquired, and I simply nodded in response. "You wanna hop back into bed?"

"I'd rather not risk slipping into another nightmare," I admitted, and he sighed, sitting upright.

"Well, I know a surefire way to keep you awake, if you're interested," he quipped, and I managed a shaky laugh. I much preferred this relaxed and caring version of James to the sarcastic and irritable one from the night before. "So, spill. What was haunting you this time?"

"The usual. That day," I murmured. It wasn't anything new; I'd replayed that nightmare countless times, and James was well aware. My demons weren't a mystery to us, but that didn't make them any less terrifying.

With a sigh, he got up and strolled over to me, scooping me up effortlessly, which elicited a surprised gasp from me. He carried me back to bed, settling me down beside him, his hand securing my waist while the other supported the underside of my thighs, lifting one leg and tucking it around his waist. I hugged him tightly, nuzzling into his chest. It was a brief moment of warmth and solace, a fleeting calmness that I knew would vanish as soon as the day kicked into gear and he walked out that door.

"Are you taking off today?" I whispered softly. I understood that once James and I dove back into our regular routines — fame, commitments, the whole mess — things would get complicated again. I'd lose him once more; I'd been through that too many times in the last few years to entertain any other outcome. But as long as we were together, there, shielded from everything else, he was mine. And I craved his presence. I craved his warmth.

"Do you want me to jet today?" he countered, and I shook my head no. He grumbled under his breath, the rumble vibrating against my cheek as I snuggled closer. "Then I'll hang tight. I suppose we can annoy Lars a bit longer."

"I'm too scared to doze off," I admitted weakly, grappling with the heaviness of my eyelids, which threatened to seal shut from exhaustion. James planted a kiss on the top of my head, gently stroking my hair.

"I ain't budging. If you slip into that nightmare again, I'll be right here when you wake up. Deal?" he whispered, and I nodded.

I knew that as soon as I drifted off, that same haunting dream would likely rear its ugly head. It was just one more cruel reminder of the growing chasm between James and me. It felt like we were broken, perpetually out of sync, and his nearness both healed and wounded me in equal measure. But in that moment, I was willing to bear the pain if it meant he'd stick by my side.

"I love you, Jamie," I murmured, and he sighed, pulling me close as my body surrendered to sleep.

"I love you too, Nore," his voice was the last thing I heard before drifting off.

February 18, 1992

The bouquet of red roses James had given me was beginning to droop, the once vibrant petals shriveling and browning with each passing day. Yet, the fragrance lingering in the air remained sweet and evocative, as if the flowers were still in full bloom.

I sighed as I ran a brush through my hair, eyeing the dress laid out on the bed for the evening bash. It was the launch party for the new TV network schedule I'd been hired for, and showing up was not just a courtesy but a must.

I hadn't crossed paths with James much since our time at Lars' getaway spot. His absence had become a familiar ache over the last few years, a kind of shield we'd unintentionally built between us over time. Yet, there was always that tiny flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, he'd call out of the blue and bring back that sense of ease with his voice.

To my surprise, the phone did ring that day. I set the brush down on the vanity, hurriedly making my way to the bedside table to answer it, a rush of excitement coursing through me.

“Nore?” the voice on the other end wasn't James', but it still warmed my heart, prompting a smile to spread across my face as I sank back onto the bed, cradling the phone to my ear.

“Lea!” I exclaimed, feeling a surge of joy. “It's been too long! How've you been?”

“I'm great! And you?”

“Oh, you know. Just hanging in there. How's Joe?” I swiftly changed the subject. As much as I adored Leanne, I wasn't ready to spill my guts about how I was really feeling.

“Oh, he's doing fantastic. Actually, that's why I rang you up. We're getting married!” she announced, her excitement palpable, and I couldn't help but smile.

“Lea, that's incredible! When's the big day?”

“It's in August. We figured summer would be perfect. I'm calling to extend the invite; would you do me the honor of being one of my bridesmaids?”

I leaped up, my grin stretching wider across my face. Leanne and I had been thick as thieves since day one; seeing her so thrilled about tying the knot, and knowing she wanted me to be part of her big day, warmed my heart.

“Oh, absolutely!” I exclaimed, a bubbling laugh of joy and surprise escaping my lips. Lea chuckled in response, matching my excitement. “Thank you! I know it's going to be beautiful. Can you fill me in on all the details later?”

The rest of my day sparkled with newfound energy after the news; I even caught myself humming an old song as I finished getting dolled up for the evening bash, weaving my hair into an intricate hairdo my mom had insisted on teaching me.

When I finished getting ready, I checked myself out in the mirror, pretty pleased with the result; the dark blue spaghetti-strap dress hugged my curves just right, with the skirt flaring out at the waist and skimming down to my ankles. A dainty golden choker with crystals adorned my neck, and my long brown locks were styled to perfection, framing my face in all the right places, with my eyes sparkling, cheeks a touch flushed, and lips painted red.

But, of course, I couldn't roll up to an event like that on my own; right on the dot at 7 p.m., I heard the honk signaling my ride had arrived. I sauntered down the stairs, arching an eyebrow in surprise as I stepped outside and spotted the limo parked up front. My old friend Charlotte rolled down the window from the backseat, flashing me a big grin.

“Hey, Nore!” she chirped as I slid into the car, handing over a glass of champagne, which earned a soft chuckle from me. “Ready to rock?”

“I guess I’m a bit jittery. First time going to a party like this one,” I admitted. Now that I was on my way, the thought of facing a swarm of photographers and journalists at the event’s entrance was making me more nervous than I cared to admit, and I wasn't sure if I was ready for it.

“Well, it's gonna be a blast, trust me! Everyone who's anyone will be there. I'll be your wingwoman, so don't worry about a thing. I'll make sure you rub elbows with all the big shots you haven't bumped into yet during the shoots.”

I nodded, taking a bit of champagne to settle my nerves, the bubbles dancing on my tongue and momentarily diverting my attention. If my acting career was taking flight now, it was all thanks to Charlie; she'd been the driving force behind my return to the scene after I’d graduated High School, persuading me to switch gears from the Visual Arts program up in San Francisco to Drama School down in Los Angeles, and had even helped me snag my first TV gig.

I'd recently jumped into acting over at the same TV network where Charlotte had been working as an actress for a while. Even though I hadn't wrapped up recording my first project yet, the buzz around a relatively unknown actress snagging the lead in the latest drama series had caught the media’s attention. In just about a year, my life had changed completely, going from being just another face in the crowd to even having paparazzi tail me. But truth be told, I was still getting the lay of the land at the network. Charlie had hit the nail on the head; this party was prime time to make some connections.

We rolled up to the party spot; I soon realized that navigating through the sea of photographers and reporters on that red carpet was no joke. But once I got past the Q&A, which mostly revolved around my work and career, it was time to get down to business. Charlotte ushered me into conversations with all sorts of folks: actors, musicians, executives, and even some of the network's shareholders. It hit me quick that networking at these parties was just as much a part of the job in the entertainment industry as being good at your craft.

The hours zoomed by amid chats, laughter, drinks, and nibbles. Soon, I was feeling drained and decided to grab a bite from the buffet before taking a breather. As I was fixing my plate, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around, expecting it to be Charlie, ready to introduce me to someone new.

Never in a million years could I have guessed what awaited me in the next few seconds.

"Nore... Is that really you?" the man exclaimed, looking utterly astonished, and suddenly I was eighteen again, my heart racing in completely uncontrollable pirouettes as my breath hitched, my surprised gaze meeting his, the world filling with color and song as I stared into the eyes of Dave Mustaine.

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