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allmoshnobrain · 5 months

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𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 21 of ? | masterpost

word count: 4066 | ao3 link | fic's playlist

I blinked, seriously caught off guard. That was too much to take in at once. First thing slamming me was anger—what did she mean by her and my dad being here to pamper me? Weren't they the ones who kicked me out? Cut off all ties? And now, they popped back into my life, not because they missed me or anything, but to wheel and deal for the family name and business—that was their concern. Concern that grandpa's "empire" wouldn't last with me at the wheel. Concern that I wouldn't know the ropes when the time came.

✦ summary: Nore's sense of normalcy unravels as her parents resurface, offering support for her dreams—with strings attached.

✦ on this chapter: dave mustaine x female!oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, angst, complicated/kinda abusive family dynamics

✦ a/n: Hello! This part was a bit longer, and focused more on Nore's relationship with her family. I hope it helped understand her character a little bit better! I haven't included all the "lore" regarding her parents in the chapter directly but I recently made a post here explaining it a bit for anyone who's curious! I haven't been able to write a lot because I had some power/internet outage problems at home, but now that everything's back to normal I hope I can update more quickly! And we'll have some more James x Nore interactions on the next part :) Hope you liked reading, feedback is welcome!

✧ nobody's daughter, she never was, she never will / be beholden to anyone she cannot kill ✧

The next few weeks weren’t exactly easy.

Dave and I usually kept our relationship light; we rarely argued, and if we did, we patched things up quick. We got each other too well and just couldn't stand being apart for too long. We were young. We were in love. At that time, no issue seemed big enough to mess with that.

But this time, it was different . It's not like Dave was giving me the cold shoulder, but I could tell he was still feeling the sting from everything that had happened with the album and his songs. He started isolating himself more and more, hanging out at David's place for long stretches, diving into his new band. When I tried talking to him about what was going on, he'd just smile and steer the conversation elsewhere. It was like all that easy, spontaneous intimacy we had from the beginning was vanishing, slipping through my fingers like water.

And it freaked me out.

Being away from my cousin and my friends didn't make things any easier. I knew they had my back, but it's not like I could spill my guts to them over the phone about Dave. Since I'd left home, I'd felt sad and angry a bunch of times, but by September, I was more down than I had been since I first moved in with Cliff. Still, I held onto the hope that things would get back to normal soon.

Little did I know what the end of the year had in store for me.

It kicked off with a surprise phone call one evening. It was nighttime, and Dave and I were catching a break, chilling and watching some random movie on TV while sharing a cigarette and a beer when the phone decided to ring.

"I'll grab it," I said, jumping up from the bed. Dave gave a nod, his brow furrowing as he focused on rolling another joint for us to share. I rushed to the living room, picking up the phone. "Hello."

"Ellie?" a voice I knew too well replied, making my heart race and my jaw drop in surprise. "Is it really you?"

"Dad?" I blurted out in shock. In the whirlwind of my new life, getting a call from my father after nine months of radio silence was probably the last thing I expected.

"Hey, Ellie! So, this number is really yours. How've you been?"

"I... I'm okay, but... Dad, what's going on?" The words tumbled out, confusion turning into genuine concern. If he was calling out of the blue, something serious must have been up, right? I couldn't think of any other reason.

"Can't a dad check in on his daughter?" He said it casually, like it was no big deal. I furrowed my brow, annoyance quickly replacing my concern.

"You haven't said a word to me in months," I shot back, my voice shaking a bit, my eyes threatening to fill with tears as a whirlwind of emotions churned in my chest — first of all, anger. But then hurt. Confusion. And pain.

I glanced up at the sound of footsteps, spotting Dave leaning against the bedroom door frame with a lit joint in his hand. He gave me a questioning look, his concerned brown eyes checking out my state. I sighed, motioning for him to hold on. He came over, wrapping an arm around my waist and planting a gentle kiss on my shoulder, which managed to coax a small smile from me.

"So, Ellie, your mom and I..." my father hesitated on the phone, sounding a bit unsure of himself. "We were thinking that maybe we've been too hard on you. We just got back from London..."

"You went to visit grandma?" I snapped, my anger surfacing in the way my voice cranked up. "That's what this call is about, huh? I'm guessing she wasn't thrilled to discover you kicked me out. Bet she and grandpa gave you a reality check!"

"We went to celebrate your mom's birthday. And yes, we saw your grandparents," my father went on, his tone getting a bit sterner. "We were just thinking... It would be nice if you and your boyfriend could join us for dinner sometime. You know, your mom misses you..."

"Oh, bullshit."

"She does. Eleanore, it was her idea to send you that motorcycle as a gift. She thought it might lift your spirits a bit. Maybe you'd swing by..."

"She's always pulling that stunt!" I grumbled, annoyed, cheeks warming with irritation. "I can't be expected to read her mind. And for the record, I didn't ask for whatever gift she sent my way!"

"I get it. Ellie, I get it," my father reassured, clearly trying to ease my frustration. "Look, I think she regrets laying it on you like that. Especially after talking to your grandma... She just wants to fix things."

"Then why didn't she just call me herself?"

"You know how your mom is. She thought maybe you'd be more open to hearing me out. And, hey, it's not like I don't miss you too," he said, explaining. I took a deep breath, still annoyed but conceding that my father had a point. I could have a conversation with him, but if it were my mom on the line, I might've just hung up. "Ellie, she's trying, alright? It's more effort than she usually puts in. Give her a chance..."

"She didn't give me any chances. Why should I be the one handing them out?" I questioned, my voice now getting choked up as my anger gave way to the underlying hurt I was feeling. My father sighed, seeming uncertain about what to say.

"You can come next weekend if you want," he finally replied, straight-up ignoring my question and making me groan in frustration. "I'll ask Marcy to whip up that pumpkin pie you like, what do you think? Mull it over, alright?"

Then, he hung up, leaving me with a heavy heart and an anguish that had been haunting me for months but that I just didn't want to face. I slammed the phone back on the hook, maybe a tad harder than I should have.

"Hey. What was that?" Dave asked, leaning his chin on my shoulder and pulling me closer, his arms around my waist. I sighed. "Was it your dad on the phone?"

"Yeah," I murmured, my voice trembling a bit. He nuzzled into my neck, planting a soft kiss on my smooth skin, his lips moving up to my cheek for another kiss.

"Babe, you know you can talk to me if you need to," he whispered. I sighed, pulling away a little to meet his gaze, a mix of concern and seriousness in his eyes. I managed a faint smile, the hurt in my chest blending with the happiness of having, even if just for a moment, the old intimacy between us. "What happened? What did he say to you?"

"I just... I hate this!" I finally let it out, a tear rolling down the corner of my eye and making its way to my cheek. Dave cupped my face in his hands, wiping it away with the tip of his thumb. "My family’s always doing this. They act like the stuff they do to me, the way they treat me, doesn't matter. Like it doesn't hurt me! It's messed up."

Dave sighed, pulling me closer in a comforting hug. I knew he didn't have all the words, but I could feel him trying to ease my pain. I sniffled, a few more tears streaming down my cheek as I buried my face in his chest.

"My dad invited us for dinner... Both of us, him and my mom," I laughed bitterly. "It's funny, isn't it? They kick me out of the house, and then they think they can invite me to dinner, like everything's normal. Like nothing happened."

"And do you want to go?" he asked, softly, his hand soothingly stroking my back. I shook my head with a sigh.

"I... I don't know. I think that's the worst part," I admitted, pulling away and meeting his gaze. "I'm so angry, but I still miss them. I think that's what hurts the most."

"That you can't help but love them, even though some of the things they do hurt you?" he murmured, and I felt my heart tighten at the bitterness in his voice. "Maybe you should go, Nore. Maybe it's a good chance for you to patch things up with them."

"I don't know if I want to do that," I whispered, and he gave a slight smile.

"Yeah, I get it. Come here," he pulled me close again, his lips meeting mine with an unexpected hunger that sent warmth through my body. I clung onto his arms tightly, my nails leaving small crescent marks on his fair skin, while his lips moved down to my neck, kissing a spot that Dave knew would make me sigh and shiver, forgetting, even if just for a moment, anything but his body against mine. He pulled away, his familiar crooked smile on his lips making my heart race as he lifted my chin with his hand. "You can think about it later... How about coming back to bed with me?"

The car screeched to a stop in front of the big light-yellow house. I sighed, feeling more jittery than I'd like, despite the chill evening and the sun setting, casting warm hues all over the landscape. I knew my decision to visit my parents in Long Beach with Dave's car was a bit of a rebellious move against their expectations, and I hated it. They probably anticipated me rolling up on the motorcycle they gifted me. Instead, there I was, with my boyfriend and his car — two things that could potentially give my mom a nervous breakdown.

Dave raised his eyebrows, whistling softly as he checked out my parents' garden.

"You fancy-ass kid. So, this is where you used to live?" He chuckled and playfully nudged my arm, but I could tell he was a bit surprised. He seemed to catch quickly onto my nervousness; his eyes instantly turned serious when he saw my expression. "Hey," he said, his hand gently holding mine. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to. Okay?"

I nodded. Honestly, I wasn't entirely sure why I agreed to visit my parents or let Dave come along and meet them. Maybe, despite all the drama and hurt, there was still a part of me that missed them. Perhaps deep down, I hoped they'd be proud of me — for standing on my own all this time, for finding someone who cared about me and loved me. For not turning out to be the failure they expected when they kicked me out, assuming I'd come running back at the first sign of trouble.

But deep down, I knew that wasn't happening.

"It's okay," I squeezed Dave's hand, attempting a confident smile. "We're already here, right? Let's do this."

Dave and I stepped out of the car, strolling across the well-kept garden until we reached the front door.I paused for a moment before ringing the doorbell. Then, the door swung open, and my dad appeared, beaming when he saw me, the blue eyes I got from him shining.

"Ellie!" he exclaimed, pulling me into a hug. I blinked, a bit confused, but returned the embrace. He pulled back with a smile, seeming only then to notice that Dave was by my side. "Oh. You must be David?"

"You can call me Dave, sir," Dave smiled, shaking my dad's hand, but I could see he was a bit nervous.

"Pleasure to meet you, Dave. I’m George." my dad smiled, a bit more serious than before. "You've arrived just in time! Marcy is almost done preparing dinner. Let's go inside."

Dad walked in first, and I followed suit. Dave strolled by my side, holding my hand gently. He leaned in, whispering in my ear:

"Ellie? So, is that what your parents call you?"

"Just my dad. And I hate that nickname," I murmured, and he laughed.

As we strolled into the house, Dave scoped the place with raised eyebrows. The living room was cozy and rustic, sofas, armchairs, and rugs thrown together just right. In the corner, a shelf showed off my dad's vinyl collection. From there, you could head to the dining room through the side door or hit the garden through the glass door at the back. Upstairs, you'd find my parents' bedrooms, my old room, and the library where my parents spent most of their time when they were home.

"Ellie, why don't you give Dave a tour of the library? I'll summon your mom for dinner; she was introducing the new gardener to the plants," he said, jokingly.

"Oh... Sure," I mumbled. After being away for so long, everything felt way larger and unfamiliar than it should — especially after bouncing around from the little room I shared with Cliff to Leanne's house and then my cozy spot with Dave. I watched my dad head out the back door. Dave linked his fingers with mine, sensing my nerves, and stroked the palm of my hand in soothing circular motions with his thumb. I raised my gaze and met his brown eyes, locked onto my face. "So, wanna check out the library?"

"Actually, I had my eye on something else," he grinned slightly, and I blinked, intrigued. "Your room," he clarified, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "I want to see how you lived, you know? Before I showed up and changed your life forever."

I chuckled, rolling my eyes before tugging him along by his hand, leading the way to the stairs. We climbed up to the first floor, strolling through the lengthy corridor, passing several doors before hitting the last one right at the end. I twisted the knob, relieved to find that the door wasn't locked.

I sighed as I swung the door open, taking in the sight of my old room. The room was spotlessly clean and organized, meaning that my parents at least kept the place tidy. Next to the window, my bed was neatly made with the same sheets I'd left in a mess before heading to San Francisco. Above the headboard, posters of bands and movies adorned the wall. The door in the corner was open, showing my private bathroom.

Below the window, my study desk, with drawing and painting materials meticulously arranged. In the corner, a shelf with my books, records, and tapes, plus a TV and stereo. It stung a bit to look at it, to reminisce about all the time spent there; everything was the same, but I didn't feel anything like the girl who once called it home.

Dave seemed to understand the contemplation in my silence; he rested his chin on my shoulder, giving me a tight hug from behind before planting a kiss on my cheek.

"Nice room you got here," he remarked, and I laughed, a bit shakily, realizing tears were welling up in my eyes. Despite that, it felt good not to be alone. To have him there with me.

We quickly stepped apart when we heard a knock on the door. I turned around and found Alice, my mom's assistant, eyeing us with her serious gaze, her curly blonde hair pulled into a ponytail so tight it made me uncomfortable just to look at it. Of course, she would be here, I thought with a twinge of annoyance. She smiled, a cold and almost robotic smile.

"Welcome back, miss. Your mother is waiting for you in the dining room," she said, then turned and left, seemingly not even acknowledging Dave's presence.

I sighed, annoyed, feeling the anxiety in my chest rise in a wave of panic that subsided as soon as I felt Dave's fingers intertwining with mine again. He smiled at me reassuringly.

"Let's go," he murmured. "I guess it's time for me to meet your mom."

I stepped into the dining room hesitantly. It was funny how being near my mom always kind of intimidated me; she was everything I'd never been able to be, everything they expected me to be. I bit my lip as I spotted her, and she turned in our direction.

My mother was probably the most beautiful woman I'd ever known, tall and statuesque like a model, with long, wavy black hair that reached her waist, a slim and charming face, and serious dark brown eyes. I was nothing like her — much more like my dad, shorter with brown hair, blue eyes, and a much less glamorous body.

"Eleanore," she murmured, with that familiar distinct accent blending Scottish and French. She walked toward me, holding my face in her hands, a faint hint of affection gleaming in her eyes before being replaced by disapproval. "Oh, God, what happened to your hair? Did you cut it yourself?"

"Leave the girl alone, Clémence," my dad spoke, sitting in one of the armchairs in the corner of the room, casually reading the day’s newspaper. He looked up, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "She's old enough to know how to take care of herself."

My mom pursed her lips slightly, then let go of my face. She shifted her attention to Dave.

"You must be David," she spoke resolutely. I could see the disapproval in her eyes shifting from me to him, like he was a pet she didn't really like but had to put up with. If Dave caught onto that, he hid it well. For the first time since we had met, he was completely serious, which probably meant he was a bit on edge. "Well, come along. Dinner is ready. We were waiting for you."

We sat down for dinner, and my nerves were all over the place. I could hardly taste the food, and it seemed like Dave was in the same boat. I reached under the table, giving his knee a reassuring caress. He shot me a smile.

"So, Dave... You're one of Cliff's friends, huh?" my dad asked.

I noticed Dave's jaw tense a bit, but he managed a polite smile.

"Yep, we used to share a place. That's how I got to know Nore."

"And what do you do? Are you a musician too? You know, I have a pretty large vinyl collection here at home. Love music. Always wished I had the time to pick up the drums," my dad kept the conversation rolling with a grin, and I could see some of the tension in Dave fading away.

They chatted about music for the rest of the dinner, and slowly, I started to ease up. Mom stayed pretty quiet, her eyes bouncing between me and Dave like she was trying to figure us out. But Dad seemed genuinely interested in getting to know my boyfriend better. By the time dessert was served, I almost felt like we were a normal family again.

When we finished eating, we cruised back to the living room. Dad and Dave went straight to the vinyl collection, and Dad put on a Led Zeppelin album, the music filling the living room softly. That's when Mom got up, giving my arm a light touch.

"Come with me, Eleanore," she said in a low voice before heading to the garden. I hesitated, glancing at my dad and Dave, still deep in their conversation, then decided to trail after her.

We wandered through the backyard garden, the flower beds and trees soaking up the gentle glow from the property's lamps. Mom sparked a cigarette with a sigh, and we drifted in silence until we hit the pool area. She eased into one of the lounge chairs under the covered spot before looking at me.

"Take a seat," she motioned to the chair right across from hers.

"I'll pass," I muttered, and she raised an eyebrow.

"Why do you always have to complicate things?" she asked, and a surge of anger bubbled in my chest. Classic mom move: the woman who couldn't go an hour without emphasizing how I was a screw-up.

"Does Dad know you picked up smoking again?" I asked, a bit acidly. She looked up at me, a small, cold smile playing on her face. I knew my mom; she could front like she was flawless, but she had her flaws, just like I did. At least I owned up to mine.

"I smoke when I need to focus.You know how insane the end of the year gets at your grandfather's company," she shot back, sidestepping my question. "Or you would know if you cared about the family business instead of living in your love fantasy."

"My relationship is not a fantasy," I frowned, and she scoffed.

"If you say so," she flicked the cigarette butt to the ground, crushing it with the tip of her heel. "So, you know your dad and I just got back from Europe. I talked with your grandfather, and we came up with an idea... Oh, please, Eleanore, spare me that face. You haven't even heard what I have to say!" I tried to hide the displeasure that surfaced on my face. Nothing good ever followed when my mom claimed to have an idea. Never. "Well, as I was saying. Your dad and I think it's time for you to invest a little more in your future."

"Not this again," I grumbled. "Mom, I don't want to go to Law School!"

"I'm not asking you to!" she retorted, her tone sharp and irritated. Then she sighed, as if making an effort to calm down. "Look, we know you love art. You were part of the Theater Club in school, and you enjoyed your drawing classes so much! But I don't want my daughter to just finish high school and call it a day. It wouldn't be suitable ."

"And what's your deal, then?" I asked, getting a bit defensive. Until now, Mom didn't seem to be pushing me into anything specific, but I knew she never dangled anything remotely cool in front of me without expecting something in return.

"Your father and I are willing to pay for any course you want, at any university you want. What do you say?" she asked, a slight grin playing on her lips, but her eyes stayed icy. "You can study wherever you want! You can be close to your cousin, your new friends, your... boyfriend. Pursue the arts career you want. But," she raised an eyebrow. "you have to be aware of your role in the family business. So, you'll get involved in the day-to-day routine, learn the ropes, and be ready to handle everything when your father and I aren't around to pamper you. Fair deal, right?"

On the flip side, it was kind of a tempting offer. I mean, having my parents backing my dreams would be awesome, even with a few strings attached. I used to dream about more than just ringing up customers in record stores; I missed the days when I had time to create , to be part of something. But, if I went for it, what would it mean for me and Dave? Would we drift even further apart?

I didn't want to dive into that mess. Too many details, too many what-ifs.

"You don't have to figure it all out now," Mom said, her tone soft, like she was reading my mind. "Whenever you want, Eleanore, you can come back home. We'll work things out then, okay? Just take your time."

With that, she got up and casually walked back inside, leaving me to grapple with my thoughts.

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