Lost Time - deaddybear - Metalocalypse (Cartoon) [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

Chapter 1: bleeding orifices

Chapter Text

The first night that Toki is back home, things are...weird at Mordhaus, to say the least. Nathan has never seen so much f*cking emotion in one day, and he absolutely loathes it. On the spectrum of things being metal, tears are way at the opposite end. Did they forget they’re supposed to be awesome and not a bunch of girls?Not like he’s one to talk, of course. Toki looked f*cking terrible, and it threw everyone for a loop. Usually the kid was happy and soft, playing with cats and eating candy or some sh*t. Really, Toki was an anomaly because while he didn’t seem like anything about him whatsoever would fit in with Dethklok, he made it work. He sure could shred on the guitar, even if he was always a step or two behind Skwisgaar.

Seeing Toki all pale and hurt and f*cked up kind of sent everyone to...weird places. Nathan watches as Murderface is hunched over a good distance away from where Toki and Pickles sit on the floor, arms crossed as he refuses to look in the guitarist's direction. Charles is pacing back and forth, almost nervously, and that really freaks Nathan out because Charles is supposed to be the robot who keeps everything under control. If Charles is worried, then they probably should be too.

“He’s naht talkin’,” Pickles looks at Charles helplessly. It was kind of...sickening, to see Pickles be so gentle. He’s been sitting on the ground with Toki, one-sidedly chatting with him and catching him up on everything he’s missed the last several months. He clearly is trying to elicit a response, but Toki’s face is blank. His eyes are bruised and bloodshot, occasionally rolling into the back of his head as he begins to sway over. Pickles rights him and then keeps talking, his voice cracking over his words as he tries to pretend like everything is okay.

Nathan's been around the little guy long enough to know that this is one of his defense mechanisms - when he's in a situation he can't handle, he shuts off. He doesn't talk, doesn't blink, doesn't do anything but stare into nothing. It's almost like Toki isn’t even breathing, and the thought makes Nathan’s teeth grit together. He’s, unfortunately, come to terms with the fact that he cares about Toki. Cares about him to the point where he’d probably do anything to make sure he’s alright. Caring is disgusting, and definitely not metal, but it’s an infestation of emotion that there seems to be no cure for.

“I ah, assume he just needs time,” Charles says, and his voice has a tinge of worry to it. “For today, we should take things in small steps, and just count the fact that we have him back as a win.”

“Well, whet’s wrong with ‘im?” Pickles waves a hand in front of his face. He looks to Charles worriedly, “He uh...doesn’t look so good.”

“I’m flying in a team of doctors,” Charles says firmly. “I stitched a couple things up on him myself on the helicopter ride over. I don’t want to, ah, scare anyone, but there very well may be more...permanent damage.”

“We f*cked up, guysch. We were too late. That ain’t Toki anymore,” Murderface’s voice rings out across the room, everyone looking at him. “We were too late and a perfectly good--er, passchable--guitarischt went to waste.”

“Shut up,” Nathan’s voice is gravelly, and tinged with anger. “Toki is fine. He just needs some sleep and sh*t.”

“You know, if thisch were me, I’d schtill be in there right now getting f*cked up by Magnusch and schit while you guysch are off getting wasted.”

Pickles rolls his eyes. “Gahd, can’t you tell this ain’t about you?”

“Yeah, well whensch schomthing gonna be about me already,” Murderface grumbles, but even past his usual dickishness, Nathan sees the thinly veiled concern behind his hooded eyes as he glances over at Toki.

Pickles sighs, looking from Toki back to the three other men. His voice is hesitant as he asks quietly, “...Whaddya think that f*cker did to him for all those months?”

The question hangs over them like a cloud of noxious gas. Charles looks down, silent. Murderface doesn’t even have anything dumb to say, just trying to look irritated. Nathan scratches his head, stomach feeling full of rocks.They know Toki was beaten, that’s for sure. Tortured in other ways too. They tried to talk to Abigail, but she pretty much passed out and was flighted to a hospital the moment she was rescued. Magnus is a vengeful, violent motherf*cker, just like Nathan remembers. The fact that they ever had that guy in their band at all makes Nathan's skin crawl.

“Where is, ahem, Skwisgaar?” Charles clears his throat. “You should probably all be together as a band. Boost morale.”

“He’s ah...naht takin’ this so well,” Pickles scratches his beard. Nathan is surprised as he sees the tiniest of movement from Toki - his eyelashes flutter. That’s it, but it was there. The first time he’s moved by his own command this whole day. Pickles doesn’t even notice, continuing, “He’s holed up in his room, prabahbly fer the best.”

“I did notice earlier he was...a bit emotional,” Charles says quietly. Nathan does seem to remember the absolute horror on Skiwsgaar’s face when they first saw Toki, all beaten and defeated and hanging upside down. He remembers the blonde carrying Toki out and tears visibly clouding his eyes. Which, crying is totally not metal, but he can’t really blame him for having that type of response. In all honestly, Nathan felt like crying too (but he’d be damned if he actually did). After things not being normal for so long, he just wished they would be back to their regular, carefree life already.

Charles takes Toki to bed soon after they realize there won't be any breakthroughs tonight. Skwisgaar never comes out of his room and Murderface trudges off to his. Nathan goes to bed, but he just ends up laying there, stiff as a board and thinking about the blank look in Toki’s eyes. He had thought that once they got him back, the gnawing feeling of guilt and despair would go away - but now, he finds himself feeling worse than ever.

When the door to Nathan’s room opens at near 3 am, his nonexistent sleep goes uninterrupted. He’s almost thankful to have some company - and then suddenly, he isn’t anymore. When he looks up, Charles is standing there. He’s slicked in blood up to his elbows, his form shaking in the light of the hallway.

“Charles?” Nathan sits up quickly, squinting through the darkness. “What the f*ck?”

“It’s Toki,” Charles says, voice shaky and breathless. “I-I don’t know what happened...he just...”

“f*cking hell, Charles,” Nathan scrambles out of bed, shoving his way through the darkness and pushing past Charles. “Where is he?”

“Nathan,” Charles quickly trails after him. “You don’t understand. He’s been taken to a special wing in this house because we didn’t have time to go to the hospital. And the fact that we have regular access to a helicopter says a lot about how dire the situation is. He—“

A flash of blonde bolts past the two of them. In the hazy darkness of Mordhaus at the most ungodly hour of the night, Nathan can make out Skwisgaar’s chiseled, panicked features. He’s in his pajamas, loose shirt hanging off his frame, rainbow unicorn fuzzy pants - is he wearing Toki’s pants? Nathan supposed it wasn’t out of the ordinary for the two of them to wear each other’s clothes, so he lets that one go. He's is holding Toki’s bear like a lifeline, his usually perfect hair a mess as he thunders over and grabs Charles by the shoulders.

“Where ams Toki?” He says, voice cracking, and when Nathan looks down he realizes they’re standing in a trail of blood.

“He’s at the other end of Mordhaus. The medical Klokateers have set up quick makeshift hospital, as there wasn’t time to transfer him to where Abigail is being treated,” Charles says, grabbing Nathan and Skwisgaar by the arms and power-walking them along the bloody trail. Nathan has to admit, following a trail of blood would be pretty f*cking metal under any other circ*mstance.

“What ams happenings? Pickle wakes me up in f*ckings hystericalks,” Skwisgaar demands more than asks, and Nathan can see his hands shaking where he clutches to Charles’ arm.He sees the moment Skwisgaar looks down and realizes Charles is covered in blood, and all the color rushesfrom the blonde's face.

“Pickles heard a...racket coming from Toki’s room. He found me, and we went to look. Toki was...in the middle of the floor, bleeding out of basically every orifice in his face. Mostly his eye sockets,” Charles’ voice trembles over the words, and Nathan suddenly feels dizzy as he imagines the scene Charles is describing. “We don’t know anything else.”

Skwisgaar puts a hand to his head, letting out this high-pitched, confused, terrified noise that Nathan is pretty sure he didn’t mean to make out loud. He’s obviously too scared to be embarrassed (even though it was a pretty f*cking weird noise, and Nathan would’ve been embarrassed as hell to have made it). After a walk of Skwisgaar bombarding Charles with angry-scared questions, and Nathan just wondering what in the actual f*ck is happening to their once super easy lives, they reach a dimly-lit room outside of a white door at the other end of Mordhaus. Murderface is curled up and sleeping on a small couch. Pickles is sitting in a chair next to him, staring at nothing and shaking violently. He’s covered in the same blood that Charles is slicked arm-deep in - it’s everywhere on Pickles. Splattered on his cheek, underneath his fingernails, drenching his clothes, soaked into his dreads.

“Pickles is a bit...ah, traumatized,” Charles murmurs to Nathan and Skwisgaar. “I’d just leave him be for now. If you two could wait out here—“

“You expeckts me to just sits here while Tokis bleeds out of all his orkifmcies?” Skwisgaar hisses, blonde hair swinging as he jabs a finger at Charles. “You knows he woulds wants me in theres! You haves to lets me in!”

“I’m sorry, Skwisgaar.” Charles says firmly, a hand on the blonde’s shoulder, “We need to get him to a stable place first. Then you’ll be the first to come in.”

Charles turns, glancing at the guys worriedly, and then pushes through the white door. Leaving the remaining four members of Dethklok to ruminate in their silence is pretty sh*tty of him, in Nathan’s opinion. He hates group silences, and this is a brutal one. Skwisgaar sits there, staring holes into Toki’s bear and eyes clouded over with tears he’s clearly trying hard not to let fall. Pickles of course is still shaking like a madman, drenched in blood. Murderface is asleep, because he’s a f*cking dick as usual.

“Uhhh.” As the band leader, Nathan feels obligated to try and boost morale...somehow. “Things might look incredibly bad for Toki. Hell, he might die tonight.”

Skwisgaar glares murderous daggers at him. Pickles’ left eye twitches. Nathan holds up a finger, “Yes, everything’s f*cked. But. We’re still Dethklok. Toki’s still back. We’re gonna be alright, because we always are. Because we’re Dethklok. So...yeah.”

“I swears, if Toki’s dies, I wills saves myselfs de troubles and ends it alls,” Skwisgaar’s voice is teary as he smushes the teddy bear against his face. “I can’t f*ckings functioms without him.”

Nathan has to admit, it’s true. Ever since Toki first went missing, Skwisgaar has rapidly declined in...every possible way. As much as they fought, Toki was like his other half. Skwisgaar...isn’t good at being a half by itself. For a while there, he was constantly high on a dangerous co*cktail of drugs and alcohol. He OD’d a couple months into Toki being gone, which was completely f*cked. Especially when he had to go to rehab and now he hasn’t smoked anything cool with them ever since. He plays guitar way less expertly than before, and barely even finishes practice before slamming his guitar on the ground and storming off stage. All the guy wants to do is just get sad-drunk and mope around. It’s kind of pathetic, in a sad type of way, even though Nathan can’t really blame him.

“Nobody’s killing themselves,” Nathan’s voice is gravelly as he awkwardly pats Skwisgaar’s shoulder. “There...um, there.”

“If anybahdy’s ahffin’ themselves, it’s gonna be me! I’m splattered in a f*ckin’ gallon of Toki blood!” Pickles throws his arms out, a speckle of blood hitting Nathan's cheek. “That sh*t was tohtally f*cked up! You should've seen 'im...”

“Look, I don’t care about either of your sh*t,” Nathan points at them both flatly. “We’re here for Toki. Skwisgaar, get some rest. Pickles, take a shower. Get it the f*ck together.”

As always, the two of them (begrudgingly) listen to Nathan. Pickles stiffly hurries to the shower, the blood starting to dry, and Skwisgaar clings to Toki’s bear and puts his head on Nathan’s shoulder. As long as Murderface stays asleep and doesn’t call them gay, he's fine with Skwisgaar resting wherever he wants. As long as he actually gets said rest.

Nathan sighs heavily, his attention betweenthe ominous white door and the giant clock on the wall. 3:15 am. It’s gonna be a long rest of the night.

“Ah, boys?”

Charles finally walks into the makeshift waiting room, as dusk settles over Mordhaus the next day. It’s honestly been the worst 24 hours of Skwisgaar’s entire life, and his house has never felt like such an unsettling prison before. The image of Pickles in his doorway, covered in Toki’s blood, is one he wishes he could scrub and scrub with steel wool on his brain until the memory is gone forever. Clearly Pickles feels the same way; even after he showered, his wiry frame was still shaking for the next couple hours.

Nathan read celebrity trash magazines to pass the time. Pickles chain-smoked several joints and then would start to doze off, folded up awkwardly in his waiting room chair. He’d probably get fifteen minutes every time before he’d wake up screaming about Toki's bleeding eye sockets. Murderface slept in the same spot until late afternoon, generally unbothered because as previously stated, he's a f*cking dick. Skwisgaar did nothing besides lose himself in his thoughts and clutch Deaddy Bear to his chest like a lifeline. He’s grateful for Nathan putting up with his blubbering. He hasn’t let go of the big guy’s arm since the night before, and the frontman hasn’t said a word about it.

When Charles finally makes his appearance in the waiting room, the remaining members of Dethklok spring up out of their chairs nervously. Skwisgaar feels his heart jump into his throat at the grave expression on Charles’ face.

“How ams Toki?” He hears himself blurt out, wringing his hands together nervously. They're all tired as hell, so Murderface came up with the idea that they drink coffee religiously to try and stay awake. Everyone must've been too tired to remember their rule of never listening to a Murderface idea. Skwisgaar can see the cups that they’re each holding are unsteady in their hands.

“He’s...unresponsive,” Charles says, and a weight seems to fall over the room. “I’m gonna give this to you boys straight. Toki is in critical condition, and has spiraled into a coma. We’re doing everything we can.”

“Coma?” Skwisgaar feels his body practically convulse, the coffee in his hands spilling on the ground in front of him. “Wh—? What does that means? He ams going to wakes up soon, right?”

“Well, Skwisgaar, in all honesty, comas are a bit unpredictable. We don’t know if, or when, he’ll wake up,” Charles says, and Skwisgaar has to hold back the “robot” that nearly slip off his tongue in a fit of confused, scared rage. He swallows it all down, because he knows that isn't fair to Charles. Like usual, their manager has handled the situation for them better than any member of the band would've. Once he pushes aside the rage, his confusion practically throttles him. How could this be? What if he doesn’t wake up?

“A coma? Like the f*ckin’ soap opera crep?” Pickles takes a long drag off his joint, exhaling, “Holy sheeeit. Thet's heavy.”

“Guys. I hate to say this, yknow, in such a dire time. But comas are kind of metal,” Nathan says, slurping loudly from his coffee cup.

“Thisch isch bullschit!” Murderface hisses, hopped up on coffee. “We go through all that work to get Toki back, and hisch brain doesn't even work anymore? He'sch juscht a sack of schkin and organsch and pissch?”

“No, Murderface. His brain still works, he's just in a coma,” Charles clarifies. “Once he’s out of critical, he’ll most likely be able to hear you talking to him if you’d care to visit.”

“I needs to see hims now.” Skwisgaar stands up, feeling the jittery, frightened bile rise in his throat as his body continues to shake. He begins trying to stumble over to the white door, and he expects Charles to try and stop him - but before his manager can get a word in, Nathan puts a hand on Skwisgaar’s shoulder.

“Nathans, comes on,” he practically begs, Deaddy Bear practically crushed in his desperate grip. “That ams our brothers in there. I cantst leaves him to dies again...”

“Skwisgaar,” Nathan says, and the hand on his shoulder is soft. For some reason, over the past 24 hours Nathan has been like Skwisgaar’s comfort blanket. It discombobulates him, seeing this side of their lead singer. He just looks so tired, so worried, and it nearly instantly disarms the blonde. “We’ll stay here until we can visit. We don’t wanna f*ck sh*t up while he’s like, all critical.”

Skwisgaar looks uneasy, "Butwhats if--? "

"Look. I know how you feel, alright," Nathan grumbles, lookingembarrassed as he scratches his neck. "Well, like, not exactly how you feel. Toki's your best friend, and Abigail is my...um, girl who I wanna bone. And she smells good, and we're basically dating. Y'know? And she's in the hospital, and it's f*cking heavy. You just wanna scratch your eyeballs out. But you can't. You gotta be strong, for them."

Skwisgaar swallows, nodding dumbly, even thoughNathan couldn't evenbegin to understand how he feels about Toki being in there. For many different reasons.

“Yeeah, dood,” Pickles says, in the midst of dumping some co*ke on the table. He grins as he starts to form it into lines, “We’ll do whatehverr it takes to stay awake, alright?”

“Do I schmell co*ke? I’m in!” Murderface kneels down next to Pickles, dumping more of the white powder out. Skwisgaar watches the two of them push it around the table, and he bites his bottom lip longingly. Even though he hasn’t...done any drugs in a few months, and he’s gotten pretty good at ignoring the offer when the guys forget he can’t do them, he still misses the way that it makes his brain stop working. When he blacks out, he can't remember missing Toki, or feeling guilty, or being so f*cking scared that it hurts.

“Thank yous guys,” Skwisgaar sighs as he slumps back down. “I ams just sick of waitings.”

And so he does. He waits and he waits, he fades in and out but he never really sleeps. All he can think about is the only thing that keeps him going anymore - the good times. The times when everything was okay. Even the idea of Toki sprawled out on the floor, playing with a cat and tipsy-drunk blue eyes glittering, feels like nirvana to Skwisgaar. He’d give anything to be back there - but at least if he knows it happened once, he can tell himself things could be that way again.

By the time Charles finally gives him the okay, his eyes are practically bruised purple from being open for so long, his hair a ratty blonde mess and the sweat stains noticeable on his tank top. He jumps up from the chair, and when he looks around, he realizes the rest of the guys finally must’ve passed out from exhaustion.

“Only one person is allowed in right now anyways,” Charles says, and there’s the faintest hint of a tired smile on his manager’s face. “Looks like you’ve won.”

“I guess sos,” Skwisgaar lets out an equally tired, empty laugh, and the two men walk back into Toki’s room. It’s strange to finally push past the white door after staring at it for so long - and the other side is just as strange. It’s bigger than Skwisgaar imagined, full of medical equipment and several klokateers in bloody hospital jackets huddled together in discussion. The floor are still splattered in blood, with a trail similar to the one they followed last night leading from the door to Toki’s bed. His heart monitor beeps steadily - and then Skwisgaar lays eyes on his rhythm guitarist. He might be in a coma, but it’s still so damn good to see him that Skwisgaar practically falls to his knees.

“I’ll give you two a minute,” Charles says, quickly backing out. Once their manager is gone, Skwisgaar leans against Toki’s bed, and grabs his hand. The brunette looks so...small. His face is ghostly white and bloodstained, eyes bruised and bottom lip split. His mustache is smattered with the same blood, and that leads Skwisgaar’s eyes to Toki’s neck. Not only is the skin damaged where Magnus had the collar too tight, but there’s ugly, raised hand prints from strangulation. His eyes start to trail down to the stitches and then it’s suddenly like yesterday, when Skwisgaar had to run off into his room and try his hardest not to think about what Toki went through.

“Toki,” Skwisgaar clutches the brunette's clammy hand, finally able to let the tears falls from his eyes. “I don’t knows if yous can reallies hear me, but I’s at the ends of my ropes. You haves to wake up. I misses yous. So, so much, and it horts like hells.”

The only reply is the beep of the machine. Skwisgaar watches his fingers shake around the hand bunched up in his own, and even though he isn’t awake, it’s such a comfort to be able to sit and hold some part of him. “I’s been going crazies ever since you’ve went missingks. Now a comas? This ams f*ckings dild*s, Tokis. Why yous always haves to be so dramaticals?”

He puts Toki’s hand against his cheek, and closes his eyes. The rhythm guitarist always loved tracing Skwisgaar’s cheekbones - he imagines they’re sitting on the roof of Mordhaus, his head in Toki’s lap and the brunette’s legs swinging happily as his long, uncalloused (from lack of practice, of course) fingers softly ghost over Skwisgaar’s face. “Maybes if you wake up, I’ll even thinks about letting yous have a solo. Maybes. If you wakes up and practice for once.”

Charles walks back into the room, and he clears his throat. Skwisgaar quickly wipes his eyes, lowering Toki’s hand from his face, and looks at his manager almost desperately, “Canst we haves one more minutes, Charlies?”

“I’m sorry, Skwisgaar. We need to keep running tests. The sooner we figure this out, the sooner Toki wakes up,” Charles puts a hand on the blonde’s shoulder, a rare show of comfort from the CFO. Skwisgaar resigns to his fate of sitting in the waiting room again, even though the idea nauseates him.

“Tokis, I’ll bes back as soon as I can,” Skwisgaar promises, squeezing his hand before painfully letting go. “I’ll be right outsides, okays?”

Charles escorts him out. Skwisgaar probably looks as eviscerated as he feels when he hits the waiting room again - Charles must've woken the guys up while he was in there, and they look at him with these matching expressions of...pity. Skwisgaar hates it, but he's been too tired lately to try and prove that he doesn’t care as much as he does. None of them would understand, anyways.

“Skwisgaar, a bit of ah, advice,” Charles murmurs to him as he gets another cup of coffee. “Think about the good times. It’s like setting a goal for yourself to get back to. Very efficient.”

“Thank you, Charlies,” he nods tiredly. “You ams a good mans.”

“Yes, well.” Charles gives his shoulder a final pat before making his way back into Toki’s room. Skwisgaar slumps back into his chair, sipping his coffee glumly.

“What was it like in there?” Pickles asks, nose and eyes red and his white-dusted credit card still in his hand. “Is Toki all f*cked up and bleedin’ still?”

“Nos. He’s just...asleeps,” Skwisgaar sighs. “It was...brutals.”

“I told you. Comas are brutal,” Nathan nods in agreement. “Wonder how long he’ll be out for. Sometimes people are in comas for like, f*cking years.”

“Yeah and they wake up and everyone they knew is dead and sh*t,” Pickles says quickly, raising his studded eyebrows. “f*ck! What if a Toki wakes up, and we’re f*cking dead?”

Murderface jumps in, “Or, what if he just never wakesch up and he diesch IN the coma? What if—“

“Okay, guys. Um. Now is not the time for Toki death scenarios,” Nathan’s glares at Murderface and Pickles, subtly gesturing with his head to Skwisgaar. “Toki’s gonna be fine. f*ck. You’re a bunch of...debbie f*cking downers.”

“Fuuuuck. I could go for some downers,” Pickles rubs at his nose, lolling in his chair a bit.

“And some Little Debbiesch! Thosche schnack thingsch?” Murderface says dreamily. “Skwischgaar, next time you go in there, tell Charlesch we want schome zebra cakesch.”

As annoying his friends’ banter is, Skwisgaar can’t help but honestly be thankful for it. It’s a good distraction from what lies on the other side of the door just a few feet away from them. Skwisgaar thinks about what Charles said - ‘think of the good times.’ He puts his face in his hands, blonde hair shielding him like a curtain, and he thinks.

He sees Toki - nervous blue eyes, short hair, and he’s so young. He had just joined the band, and was looking to Skwisgaar for help on basically everything when it came to adjusting to American life (even though Skwisgaar wasn’t that good at being an American either). That's where it all started, that cold, winter night...

Chapter 2: brain melt

Chapter Text

A long time ago, in Chicago...

Skwisgaar doesn’t have many memories that are so...soft. Most things from back when he was in his twenties were fast, drug-fueled blurs that he didn’t even want to remember. Not this one.

Toki bites his lip nervously as the two of them stand on the balcony of their seedy hotel room. Pickles, Murderface, and Nathan are all at the bar up the street getting post-show hammered. That was how it usually went - the guys stayed out until the crack of dawn, while Skwisgaar usually ducked out early to entertain any and all women in the vicinity that are willing. Tonight, however, he had decided to take it easy, and he went back to the hotel by himself. The five of them shared one room, as their band is just beginning to take off and they aren't in a position yet to be throwing money around. Usually, the guys were pretty good about sleeping through whatever nighttime activities Skwisgaar got up to with his lady friends - but tonight, he was surprised to realize he had to repay the favor.

There’s a tall blonde metal chick sitting patiently on the couch, and the fear in Toki’s eyes is practically deafening where he stands shivering from the cold on the balcony. Toki’s only been with the band for a little while, and this is their very first tour with him. Skwisgaar wants to ask him if this is the first girl he’ll have had sex with at all, but he doesn’t want to embarrass him. Although the brunette pisses him off, he feels some semblance of responsibility for him. It’s Skwisgaar’s fault he’s even in the band (and he he reminds himself of this constantly, and sometimes loathefully). That’s why he stands on the deck, weather so cold that snow threatens to fall, as Toki grips the balcony railing like a lifeline.

“I-I’m, I’m, I’m just cant’s do its!” Toki looks so nervous it’s almost cute, cheeks red and short hair messy under his beanie. “I-I don’t even knows where to starts! What if she laughs at me?”

“Tokis, who cares if you do bads?” Skwisgaar says airily, tucking a piece of his blonde hair behind his ear. “You’s will never sees her again anyways, so just gives it what yous got.”

“But,” Toki’s big blue eyes turn up to Skwisgaar, so full of nerves and so embarrassed, “I don’t knows hows.”

Of course. Skwisgaar has come to the conclusion that 85% of the time, Toki is the polar opposite of metal. He’s a strange addition to the band and the blonde wonders if he’ll ever fit in with the rest of them. All the guys have been having a good time palling around with him - the brunette craves their acceptance, and he'll do damn near anything to get it. He doesn’t understand jokes, which makes telling him them even funnier. He doesn’t get when they’re messing with him, which has spurred more pranks than Skwisgaar has seen in a while. And yet, Toki never complains, never does anything but smile, because he’s just happy to be there.

Toki hasn’t really gotten to know the bandmates yet past having fun - besides Skwisgaar, who he clearly can tell he has the most in common with and thus follows him around like a Norwegian plague. Skwisgaar can’t help but be a mix of irritated, and secretly flattered. Mostly irritated. So past this soft, happy exterior, where does the metal come in? When Toki smiles his way into the recording room and picks up his guitar, the rest of Dethklok can only watch in shock as he flips the switch and the puzzle piece snaps right into place. He might not know much, but he does know how to handle his axe.

“Some things just comes nakturals,” Skwisgaar offers, resting his chin on his palm. He raises an eyebrow, “You don’t knows...any of it?”

Toki shakes his head, his nervous breath coming out as a little icy puff in front of him.

“Even kissingks?”

Toki looks embarrassed as he shakes his head again. “That ams why I’s not in theres with her. I-I don’t wants the beautifuls lady to know I ams a big dild*s at it...”

“How dos you knows you’re dild*s at kissingks if you nevers does it before?” Skwisgaar rubs his chin, looking through the balcony window to see the blonde girl still sitting there. He turns back to Toki, glaring harshly, and he knows what he’s going to say before he even says it. “I cans teach yous. But I swears to Odin if yous ever tell anyone, I haves you kicked out of Dethklok so fast—“

“I swears I won’t tell!” Toki promises, hand over his heart. Skwisgaar squares his shoulders and sighs through his nose. He can’t believe he’s about to teach the band’s newest member how to kiss. He thinks about how different Magnus and his replacement are - and yet, he already knows he’d rather have Toki here than the former.

“Yous have to be soft with the ladies. No rushings,” Skwisgaar says, and he holds up his hands in question. Toki’s eyelashes flutter and he nods, and the blonde rests them on either sides of his face. “Nobodies wants a guys that ams going to take take take. You makes them think that this is all for thems - that you gets your pleasures from givingks them pleasures.”

Toki nods, eyes big. Skwisgaar huffs a bit, trying to look impassive as the moonlight bounces off of the younger man's face. His eyes are almost so beautifully blue that it’s unsettling. He never realized it before, but the kid is better looking than he gives himself credit for. He continues, absently rubbing his thumb over Toki’s bottom lip, “Kissingks ams the warmup. The endgame is wantings them to beg you fors it. Now pay attentions.”

Skwisgaar leans in and presses his lips against Toki’s. They’re a lot softer than he imagined and definitely easy to work with as he tries to coax out a reaction. Toki makes a small noise from somewhere deep in his chest, lips faintly moving but clearly not sure what to do. The brunette’s lips stutter, and his breath hitches in a panic. Skwisgaar pulls away just a fraction, voice firm yet soft, “Kiss mes back. Just keeps tryingks. Don’t freaks out. Kissingks ams all about the patience.”

Toki audibly swallows as Skwisgaar moves back in. This time, he kisses back more prominently. Skwisgaar controls the pace, he angles Toki’s head a bit more, and he decides to up the ante a little bit and introduce the tongue. The brunette makes another noise and tries to copy what Skwisgaar is doing, and his cheeks are absolutely on fire underneath the blonde’s hands. Skwisgaar glides his tongue against Toki’s in his tantalizingly expert fashion, and he feels shaky hands grip desperately at his shirt. A stripe of heat flares in his stomach, and he clutches a bit tighter to the sides of his rhythm guitarist's head and stops holding back.

He kisses Toki, and for his first time, the brunette really isn’t that bad. He’s clumsy, and nervous, and inexperienced, but not bad. Perhaps like the guitar, he picks things up fast. But it’s unlike when they played the guitar together for the first time - it’s not a battle. It’s slow, and soft, and Skwisgaar doesn’t think he’s ever been kissed like this before. It's not foreplay, it's not wild and harsh, it’s...sweet. Toki’s lips and tongue move against his in this enticing, slow burning way. The blonde doesn’t realize he’s stroking the sides of his face, doesn’t realize Toki is making pleased noises and digging crescents into his shoulders as Skwisgaar sucks on his bottom lip, until it all hits him at once. And still, he doesn’t stop, doesn't want to stop.

He can’t help the irritated noise he makes when Toki pulls away just a fraction. The brunette’s face is burning, eyes unfocused as he breathes, “Hows did I does?”

“That was...not bads,” Skwisgaar says, out of breath and voice shaking just a little bit. “Y-You think you ams readies?”

Toki glances through the window and then looks back to Skwisgaar, swallowing and nodding nervously. Skwisgaar puts a hand on his shoulder, “Yous can do its, Tokis. You just got kissing lessons from bests kissor you ams ever goingks to meet.”

The brunette nods, more to himself than anyone, and then steels himself. His blue eyes look to the blonde shyly, “Thanks you, Skwisgaar, for thereallies nice first kisses.”

And then Toki walks inside. Skwisgaar stands there numbly as he watches Toki take the hand of the girl on the couch, and his touch on her looks as soft as he kissed. He leads her into the bedroom, glancing over his shoulder nervously at the blonde before he shuts the door. Skwisgaar stands on the patio, almost in a daze. He was Toki’s first kiss. He didn't really consider that, even though the brunette had said he didn't know how. The idea makes him feel...something.

Even though he’s in there with her, Skwisgaar will always have that. When the girl leaves, he finds himself glaring daggers at her. He isn’t sure why.

Present Day

Pickles the Drummer sits in Toki's hospital room, and when he looks at the brunette lying there, he swears he can still smell the blood like it was as fresh as the night he went into his coma. He'd violently scrubbed his friend's blood from his skin months ago, but sometimes he still feels like it's caked all over him. He's got a joint smoking in his right hand, an almost-empty bottle of vodka in the other, and he wonders if he's been getting so f*cked up lately that he's becoming immune to everything he smokes, drinks, or injects into his body. The other guys are in chairs on either side of him - Nathan's black-painted fingers typing away on his phone, Murderface messing with a jug of...something Pickles probably doesn't want to know about.

The redhead doesn't need to look around to know where Skwisgaar is - the guitarist sits exactly where he's been for the past five months, in the stool right next to Toki's bed. If you wanna sit in that stool, you'd have to probably kill him to get his ass out of that seat. The blonde is so exhausted from spending every f*cking second with Toki that he’s passed out cold, snoring loudly and messy blonde hair tied back in a bun.

Pickles doesn’t wanna be one of those guys, but he doesn’t have the most optimistic brain anymore. He’s been through too much negative sh*t - and he finds that just when he starts to feel good and stable and like he has a home, that’s right when it all falls apart. It happened when he was a kid, it happened with Snakes n Barrels. He watched bandmates he loved spiral and spiral until they were a crashing, burning mess - hell, he was spiraling right there along with them. He had thought those guys were finally his home - and then suddenly, they weren’t together anymore. Suddenly it was years later and they were in a sober band with a new lead singer, and Pickles had to pretend it didn’t break his heart.

He worries about that with Dethklok, and he always has. This gig was too good to be true sometimes - they were filthy rich, which is nice, but they were also...family. He never thought he’d find that again, and yet he’s found it more in this band than any other people he’s ever met. And it’s a double-edged sword, really, because while having people you love is nice, it’s also f*cking scary. Because one day you’ll wake up in the middle of the night and your family will be bleeding out of every orifice in their face, and you’re gonna feel like your entire world is falling apart.And honestly, maybe it is.

Dethklok feels like it’s slipping right through his fingers. Skwisgaar is an absolute f*cking mess. He doesn’t care about anything besides sitting there next to Toki, and honestly, everyone is completely baffled by it all. Didn’t the two of them fight constantly? Pickles was under the impression that they hated each other so much that it had made them into best friends - there's nothing more brutal than a relationship based off of mutual hatred. But now he’s realizing that Skwisgaar might not have ever hated Toki at all. He's beginning to think that maybe Skwisgaar feels the opposite of hate for Toki.

Here's the thing. The time that Toki was missing was...well, Pickles isn’t gonna get into that sh*t. Skwisgaar was out of his damn mind. Having used to have been in a band that was better at OD’ing than playing music, Pickles knows he should’ve seen the signs and prevented it from happening to the blonde. Honestly, he feels a little guilty about it, and that’s why he’s been secretly watching out for him like a red-dreadlocked hawk ever since.Pickles has known Skwisgaar for years, and he's never seen him act so...out of character.

For one thing, he’s been...shamelessly caring. Pickles has watched Skwisgaar brush through Toki’s hair, paint his nails, turn on the kid's favorite dumb kids shows and watch them by himself just so Toki could “coma listens.” Whatever the f*ck that means. He’s watched him talk to the brunette for hours, expression painfully fond, and when the rest of them are around, he almost always talks in his native language. Maybe the craziest occurrence is that he heard the blonde f*cking sing. He’s known this guy a long ass time, and it’s just a fact that Skwisgaar doesn’t do that. Or at least it was, until Pickles went to open the door to Toki’s room and stopped dead in his tracks. It wasn’t unusual for Skwisgaar to bring his guitar in and play - “one ways or anothers, Toki ams going to practice, even ifs I have to jams it into his brain myselfs!” - but the redhead was thrown off by how soft the chords sounded. When he pressed his ear against the door, he heard singing. In Swedish, of course, so he couldn’t understand the lyrics, but now he's been reevaluating everything he thought he knew about their lead guitarist.

He's honestly starting to stress about everything he's noticing, because he feels like he's about to uncover something that should probably stay buried. He definitely doesn't want to accuse a practically-grieving guy that he's gay for his friend. But Pickles has one specific memory that he can’t help think about a helluva lot lately, because it just might be relevant again and Pickles can't believe he ever forgot it. It was a while back, and one of the worst times for the band. He, Nathan, and Murderface were all genuinely worried the band wouldn’t survive the amount of fighting that Skwisgaar and Toki had been doing. They went from their usual sarcastic banter to suddenly being unable to be around each other, and if they were in the same room, it wasn't pretty. He had no idea what had happened, and neither of them would talk to anyone about it.

He remembers sitting on the couch, playing video games and trying to get sky high, when Toki ran in the room, sat on the couch, and threw his arms around Pickles. Before he could push him away, the Norwegian's head was on his shoulder and he started crying his eyes out.“Woahh buddy...where’s the fire?” Pickles had asked in surprise, raising a studded eyebrow as he patted Toki’s back awkwardly. Even though it sucked to see the little guy cry, he’d rather the kid be dulcet and crying than on one of his anger tantrums.

“He ams doingks this on porpise,” Toki sobbed, practically clawing at Pickles’ shirt. “He f*ckingks am torturins me for somethins I didnts even means to says!”

The drummer blinked, trying to compartmentalize this information. “What could you have said that's pissed off Skwisgaar so hard? Is it why you two've been fighting' like crazy lately?”

Toki ignored him, wiping his eyes on Pickles’ shirt and plucking two blunts off the table. He lit them and took a drag off them both at the same time, and the redhead’s eyebrows practically shot up into his hairline. “Holy shiet, Toki. Slow down.”

“Tells thats to Skwisgaar!” he hissed, eyes puffy and red as he bitterly looks at the hall that leads to the blonde’s room.

Pickles shrugged, “I’ll tahlk to him if ya want me to. Maybe we can get this all straightened out so we can get everything back to--”

“That ams nice of you, Pickle, but you canst talks to him,” Toki sighed sadly, shaking his head as he cut him off. “You wouldn’t—“

Skwisgaar walked past the couch, chin held high and wrapped in a white fluffy robe. He glanced at Toki so quickly that Pickles almost missed it, and then he reached into the fridge and grabbed a Gatorade. Pickles watched the brunette's fiery, sad puppy eyes that were totally locked on the blonde. It was like the longest six seconds of his entire life, and he could feel the tension pulling at his Irish skin like pliers.

Skwisgaar went back into his bedroom. Toki hugged Pickles’ arm until he fell asleep, so he resigned himself to the fact that he'd have to complete his journey to get high glued to the couch. An hour later, with Toki still knocked out and Pickles still not high enough to deal with this sh*t, several women walked out of Skwisgaar’s room as several more filed in. He watched the blonde check to see if their rhythm guitarist was looking. Like he wanted him to see. Then he shut the door.

Pickles remembers being completely stunned. He thought okay, maybe Skwisgaar was just trying to gloat about how superior with chicks he was or whatever. But why would Toki be crying about Skwisgaar banging slu*ts? The thought had sent his mind reeling - and then he got super high finally and basically forgot. Until now, that is, because Pickles’ level of suspicion towards the two of them is raised again.

He knows, logically, and from his own past experience, that you cannot be in a well-functioning band and f*ck your bandmates. That’s one of the golden rules of basically anything. But he also knows, from said past experience, that it does happen. When you’re around someone so much every single day, you’re bound to start to wonder what it would be like. He just doesn't have a fear of gayness like the rest of the guys - although he loves getting down and dirty with a bunch of chicks, he'd take a bed full of guys just as equally. The rest of the guys? Not...not as open minded about it as he is - unless he's right about Toki and Skwisgaar. He peeks over at Nathan, nose twitching. It’s okay to wonder, as long as you never f*cking admit to wondering.

“Hey. Hey. Picklesch,” Murderface whispers where they sit in Toki’s room, nudging him in the arm and tearing him out of his own thoughts. “I got a f*ckton of bicentennial quarters, you think that if I shake ‘em really loud, the cold, hard fear will trigger Toki’s animal inschtincts and wake him up?”

“I...doubt that would work. But whaddo I know? Give it a shat!” Pickles shrugs, and he refuses to feel bad, because after eight collective months of living a depressing life he's desperate for any form of entertainment. Even if it’s as pathetic as watching Murderface’s antics play out. The bassist slowly raises the jug of Toki’s least favorite currency, standing up and then shaking it violently.

“TOKI! WAKE THE f*ck UP OR IM GONNA BEAT YOUR ASSCH WITH THESE f*ckIN’ QUARTERS!” Murderface yells loudly, and Pickles can’t help but half-hysterically snort, hands over his face. This is so f*cked up. Especially because a really stupid part of him was hoping it would work.If he's being honest, all of them would give anything to get the little f*cker to wake up. That's exactly why Murderface went out and filled a jug with quarters - sure, he's a dick, but he wanted it to work as much as Pickles did.It's...just not right having him gone. They don't feel whole anymore and it's starting to make them unable to be around each other.

“Deeugh—!” Skwisgaar snaps awake ungracefully at the racket, falling out of his stool as his head smacks against the metal beams of Toki’s hospital bed. He rubs one of his tired eyes, glaring daggers at Murderface, “Whats the f*cks?”

“What? I was tryin’ to wake up Toki,” Murderface says, dropping the jug on the ground flatly. “Guessch I got all these f*ckin’ quartersch for nothing.”

“Ja, you needs to get thems out of heres before he wakes up and gets scared like de little babies,” Skwisgaar says, stifling a yawn, and Pickles realizes that the bassist might’ve just interrupted the first shred of sleep the poor guy’s gotten in five months. Probably longer, even; thebags underneath his eye have their own bags at this point.

“Yeah, for schome reason, I’m not rusching,” Murderface mutters, arms behind his head and leaning back in his chair. The three of them exchange glances as Skwisgaar's eyes instantly narrow.

“What ams that supposed to means?”

It's not that they want Skwisgaar to give up. But they do want him to be realistic, and be aware of the fact that since Toki might not ever wake up, he might have to live his life without him. Nathan looks at the Swede’s blue eyes uneasily, scratching his neck, “I think what Murderface is trying to say is...uhhhhh—“

The white doorseparating Toki's room from the rest of Mordhaus creaks open. “Nathan? Pickles? Murderface? Can I ah, see you in the hall?” Charles pokes his head in the door, and Pickles hears Nathan let out a sigh of relief as he quickly stands up and fumbles out of the room. Pickles and Murderface follow, Skwisgaar of course content with staying behind. As the other two take their seats in the waiting area - Pickles shudders just thinking about how many hours he's spent sitting there over the past five months - Charles gently catches him by the arm.

“Pickles,” he greets him, handing him a brown paper bag. “Your medicine. Please, ah, use responsibly. You probably shouldn't have been out of it so soon."

Charles sent him to Dr. Twinkletit* after the whole blood-splatter incident - and the wonderful son of a bitch prescribed him a little something to get through the hard times. They just calm his mind down, and they give his brain that deliciously fuzzy feeling that only prescription pills can. After the first night of Toki's coma, Pickles was having trouble sleeping due to the night terrors, and for a little while he kept going in to sleep with Skwisgaar. The blonde never once complained, and he honestly probably embraced the company because he was just as mentally f*cked as Pickles was. But then Skwisgaar started sleeping in Toki’s room every night and Pickles was left by himself - he’d do a lot of things, but there was no way in hell he’d sleep in one of those plastic hospital chairs.

One day, Pickles fell asleep in the shower and started sleep screaming. Nathan was the one who found him, and he'd never felt more embarrassment in his life than when he woke up naked and shaking and the frontman was walking him to Charles’ office. The lead singer of the band practically slammed his hands on Charles' desk and demanded they do something to help the redhead. Pickles didn’t want to think about how Nathan openly caring about him made his heart flutter. Ever since the big guy apologized at the funeral to him, they’d been...closer. It’s like a flip switched in Nathan and suddenly it was easier for him to be emotional. Especially since he and Abigail broke up, and with the rest of the band occupied, him and Pickles finally had time to just pal around. He had to admit that it was making him feel some type of way. But hey, as long as he sees Twinkletit* twice a month, his pills keep getting renewed and he finally has some sort of escape from his new f*cked up reality. Including the fifteen-year-long reality of any...more-than-bros thoughts he might occasionally have about Nathan.

“God. Skwisgaar’s a f*cking gross hermit. I haven't seen him leave that room in like, ever,” Nathan scrubs his hands over his face where he sits in the waiting room. “Five f*cking months. When do we get to be Dethklok again?”

“That’s actually one of the reasons I asked you three out here,” Charles says, patting Pickles on the shoulder and checking to make sure the white door is shut. “I’ve called this quick meeting today because—“

“Becausche we’re the lascht cool onesch left in Dethklok? Sinsche Skwischgaar won’t f*cking leave Toki’sch room and Toki’sch never gonna wake up?” Murderface asks, tongue poking out as he carves the beginning of ‘planet piss’ into the side of the wall.

“Yeah, I’m over the whole uh. Coma thing. What if we like, hit him on the head. Would that reverse the damages?” Nathan scratches his chin. “Have we tried that yet?”

"I ah, don't think it would be a good idea to cause more trauma to his head."

“How would you know? We don't even know whet’s even wrahng with 'im! It’s been five months and he ain’t awake yet!” Pickles exclaims. “And whet about the f*ckin’ band? Skwisgaar won’t record anythin’ without ‘im!”

“I understand that you boys have questions. Unfortunately, I don’t have very many answers myself." Charles says, straightening the stack of papers in his hand against the table. “We still don’t know what caused Toki to bleed out like that. We...honestly don’t know if he’s going to wake up. Abigail was in the same position as Toki and yet she’s recovered and back to her regular life—“

“Uuughhhhh,” Nathan sighs forlornly at the mention of Abigail. “I thought I told you not to speak that name in my presence.”

Pickles’ eyebrow raises as he tries his hardest to look impassive. He was...not the biggest fan of Abigail and Nathan’s relationship. Not just because of the fight the whole thing caused, but...yknow, that kinda ties in with his unsavory Nathan Thoughts. Why did she get all of his attention? Why did he care so much about what she was doing? Every time she was around after the two of them started dating, Pickles wanted to splatter his brains on the wall. When the frontman finally called a group meeting and announced she broke up with him, Pickles had to conceal a crooked smile behind his hand. At least something good has happened to him within the last five months.

Charles flashes Nathan a look, used to being interrupted as he carries on, “The intel we gathered from her was that Magnus tortured Toki more due to his jealousy over his place in Dethklok. It’s very possible he did something drastic.”

“Yeah, but like whet?” Pickles asks, able to hear the worry in his own voice."And don't say you don't k--"

“We don’t know,” Charles admits, and the three members of Dethklok groan. “We do have a plan to begin to try and decipher this, but it’s in the early stages, and we don’t have much time. It’s almost been a year since Roy Cornickelson’s funeral. We need to get Dethklok up and running again, for the sake of the economy.”

“Skwisgaar says he won’t make an album without Toki. Which is f*cking stupid, because he records over almost all his parts anyways,” Nathan grumbles, looking irritated. “We’re in a deadlock.”

“Perhaps we should be...worried, about Skwisgaar,” Charles voice is quiet, and he sounds concerned. “I don’t think I’ve seen him sleep or shower in...a long time. If I didn’t bring him dinner every day, I believe that he wouldn’t eat.”

“Dontcha think he’d be, I dunno, happy that he doeschn’t have to fight with Toki anymore? Am I remembering that wrong? They fought a lot!” Murderface throws his arms out in frustration. “I’d rather schee Skwischgaar be happy about Toki being a coma zombie than all f*cking mopey and dischguschting.”

“We're going to have to talk with him," Charles nods firmly. Pickles drums his fingers against his vodka bottle anxiously, wondering if he should broach the subject of his...theory, with the other guys. Would that make him a snitch? Or if they figured out why Skwisgaar was so upset, could they use it to get the band running again? He knows if the roles were reversed, he'd f*cking kill anyone who would try and rat out his stupid crush. And maybe that was all it was - Skiwsgaar and Toki aren't masterminds or something. Would they really be able to have hide a whole romantic thing from the entire band for all this time?

"You guys ever, uh..." Pickles looks between the three men in front of him a bit nervously. "Uh. Notice, anythin' different about how Skwisgaar's been actin' with Toki?"

Charles doesn't say anything, eyes quickly darting down to his paperwork. Nathan says flatly, "I mean, it's his best friend. It'd be like...if I went into a super long and brutal coma. You'd be pissed."

Pickles feels warmth blossom in his chest at the comparison. He was always pretty sure Nathan considered him his best friend, but hearing it is sweeter than the most expensive co*ke he could possibly snort.

"Or if I did!" Murderface glares at Nathan, "How do you know I'm not Picklesch' bescht friend, huh? Me 'n him, we go back! Been takin' it easchy together since the beginning!"

"Sahrry, Murderface. Nate'n's my best friend," Pickles offers Nathan one of his crooked smiles, who rolls his eyes fondly in response.

"If Skwischgaar and Toki...and Picklesch and Nathan...then who's MY bescht friend?" Murderface puts a hand to his chest in shock. He looks at Charles with watery eyes, "...Charlesch? Hasch it been you all along?"

Charles clears his throat after a very long pause, "Sure, Murderface. Anyways. I--"

That's when they hear it. Skwisgaar is yelling something frantically on the other side of the door. Pickles is already shaking before the door even opens - he thinks about the last time he walked in on Toki in a dire situation, and if he has to go through that sh*t again he might not make it out without taking a trip to the f*cking looney bin. Even still, the four men look at each other in cold fear before all shoving their way in at the same time.

Charles, then Nathan, then Pickles, then Murderface all rush through the door. They instant skid to a halt when they see a panicked Skwisgaar, and...Pickles' breath hitches and he really wishes he had his inhaler with him when he sees what he was yelling about.

Pickles is so happy to see Toki awake that he feels like he could cry (but won't, because that's even gayer than his crush on Nathan, which is pretty much as gay as it gets). He might still be bleeding out of his barely-open eyes, but the redhead has replayed when it happened the first time so many times in his head that it barely even phases him anymore. He can see the brunette vomited up more blood, his hospital gown stained, and his hands itch for the pills in his pocket. Toki's head looks like it's taking a lot of effort for him to keep it held up as it lolls around, lips trying to form words but only incomprehensible mumbling coming out, and then he makes eye contact with Pickles and he suddenly feels like someone has shot him. Something isn’t right - the bloody eyes and the vomiting isn't right either, but this is...more than that. He knows it right away, and he looks at Skwisgaar, who looks like he’s going to pass out as he stands a good ten feet away from his spot next to Toki's bed, blonde hair in his face and blue eyes wide as saucers.

“Toki,” Nathan rushes over, ignoring the IV’s in their rhythm guitarist's arm and the blood-vomit on his gown as he crushes him into a hug, “Thank f*cking god.”

Toki’s head rolls groggily, hand groping at where the collar had been clamped around his neck, “I had the weirdest dreams…”

“It’sch about damn time!” Murderface is on the other side of Toki’s bed, grabbing his friend by the face and planting a sloppy kiss on his cheek, his fear of being labeled gay be damned. “You motherf*cker! I never thought I’d be thisch happy to see your schtupid facesch! f*ck you and your f*cking coma!"

“Now Dethklok can make more metal, and we can pall around again and stuff,” Nathan’s rumbly voice says eagerly. “Thank GOD this is all over. Dethklok is f*cking back.”

Pickles watches Nathan look at Toki - really look at him, and the smile on his face slowly fades. The brunette looks between the bandmates in front of him, and his eyes land on Skwisgaar, and it’s in that moment where Pickles realizes something really is horribly, sickeningly wrong. Toki would never look at Skwisgaar so...blankly. Because that’s the only way to put it - he looks completely empty. Just nothing. Not confused, not excited, not angry. The drummer slowly turns to Skwisgaar, whose bottom lip wobbles, and f*ck , nononono--

The blonde’s voice sounds dangerously unstable as he breathes, "W-What ams wrongs with you?"

Pickles feels his heart rising up in his throat as Toki opens his mouth and asks, face woozy and blood dripping down his bottom lip, “...Who ams Dethkloks?”

Chapter 3: pale blue void

Chapter Text

Five minutes earlier...

There is no concept of time, wherever he is. Everything ebbs and flows around him, the darkness all encompassing and so, so endless. He's content with where he is, because somehow, he knows he could be somewhere much worse. He's safe, in the blackness, and his brain is blissfully fuzzy.He does dream, though - sometimes, it’s terrible nightmares, where there’s something strangling him and he’s trapped in a dark room, and he feels so, cripplingly alone. The feeling of fear that he’ll be chained in that room forever clings to every bone in his body, andwhyamsn't they here yet, ams theycomings to rescues me?

He'll be pulled out of the room, finally, when he hears the voice. The voice that talks to him about nothing and everything, and makes the darkness around him feel miles away. Sometimes, instead of a voice, its music, and that has its own variations. Sometimes it's mind-blowingly fast, full of anger and grieving. His favorite is rare - when when it's soft and slow and full of love, the electricity shining a beacon onto his heart and almost bringing him all the way home. His eyes will twitch when the music plays like that, but he can never really open them. The voice always sends him to a beach somewhere - his toes are in the sand, the sun shining on his face, and he feels so happy. When the voice goes away, he’s sent slamming back in the dark room and the warmth in his heart freezes at a painful pace.

This is his new reality for what feels like a long time, and then suddenly, everything cracks and falls apart, light painfully bursting through the darkness and ripping him away. He's torn apart and put back together over and over, and he goes from feeling nothing to feeling everything all at once.

In the midst of bright, sterile white, he sees a flash of gold. He feels a sensation on his left hand - something brushing against his fingernail, and although everything sounds like he's underwater, he hears the voice. "Sos, I tells Nathans I amnst recording the new album until you wakes back up. I just donts play my bests when yous not over there annoyings me the whole times. Evens if it pisses hims off, he knows I'm rights. But the fans have been pretty...eugh. They misses you toos."

He feels himself mutter something that doesn't make sense to his ears, head pounding, and he feels something dripping down his cheeks. The voice in his ears instantly halts, sounding like it's choking as something waves in front of his face and something soft and papery is gently jammed underneath his eyes. He blinks, eyes still blurry, and begins to be able to make out his settings. He looks at his hand first, wiggling his fingers - it registers to him that his fingernails are freshly painted black. He mumbles dizzily, "Sos pretty." The paper under his his left eye falls. It's drenched in blood.

"Toki," the voice is a strangled, panicked. "Hellos? Toki? Oh my gods!" He feels his head loll, and his fingers twitch against whatever is squeezed around them - someone else's hand, maybe. He manages to lift his heavy eyes, which he can still feel are seeping, and he sees a figure in front of him. He's...even through blurry vision, he can tell the man is painfully beautiful. Long golden hair tied back messily, shocking blue eyes, chiseled features, and he looks so upset. His jaw is dropped and his eyes are full of tears. He feels himself reach out a hand and touch the side of the blonde's face - he's not sure why he does it, but the feel of his cheekbone under his clammy palm is so right, and he hears himself breathe, head lolling, “Wowee. You ams sos pretty.”

The blonde blinks, a half-laugh half-sob escaping his throat as he jokes through the shaky hand over his mouth, “Ja, you weren’t asleeps long enoughs for me to becomes an old mans waitingks for you to wakes up.”The blonde raises the hand of his that he’s holding to his mouth, voice teary and emotional again, “But I woulds have waiteds...”

His bloody eyes widen in realization. He hears himself whisper faintly, voice slurred as he touches the liquid coming from his eyes, “You...you ams the dreams voice...”

The blonde looks confused, eyebrows knitted and long eyelashes fluttering, and how is it possible for someone to be so handsome? Before anything else can happen, he’s retching - the blonde jumps back in surprise, looking horrified, as big chunks of blood pour from his mouth and all over himself. The man starts yelling, and then a door opens with four other people pouring in.

He knows he should feel something staring at these people. He looks between them all as they talk, and they all look so scared. One of them hugs him. Another kisses him on the cheek (and the whiff of his breath shocks him awake a little bit more). In an otherwise professional-looking man, he sees a single, happy tear drip down his face. The blonde just keeps staring, and he still looks so painfully scared. And yet...he has no f*cking idea who any of them are. He has no idea who he is, and his head swims as he closes his eyes again.

They’re all standing in front of Toki. Nathan feels like an idiot, and he knows his bandmates feel the same. How could they not? They all look so f*cking uncomfortable - Pickles’ shoulders up against his ears, Murderface’s knife tapping nervously against his thigh. Skwisgaar looks like he could f*cking kill someone. In all the timelines of ways Dethklok could crash and burn, why does Nathan have to be living in the one that's so f*cking full of emotion? He hates...feeling things, with a burning passion, and yet here he is, standing in a hospital room and feeling like he's going to lose the small amount of remaining composure he has left.

He shouldn't have to reintroduce himself to f*cking Toki, who apparently doesn't remember sh*t about anything.They’ve been friends for years. For a good chunk of Toki’s entire life. Nathan smoked cigars with him on top of the Eiffel Tower and let him drive the helicopter drunk to a French strip club on his 18th birthday. They stole a cop car and drove it across the country, drunk on Tequila and high on crystal meth, for his 21st. Nathan watched his hair grow and his English get better, he watched him turn from a terrified teenager into the loveable f*ck he is today. He taught him to shave for god's sake. They’ve had some good f*cking times.

Now, it’s like those times don’t exist anywhere outside of Nathan’s mind, and it’s f*cking heavy.He thinks he has it bad? He knows he can't imagine how Skwisgaar feels. Even though they argued and competed with each other, Dethklok's guitarists were closer than anyone. He knows this has to f*cking blow for him, especially by the way Skwisgaar stands back behind the rest of them, face screwed up in a wobbly pout as he looks away.

“Thisch isch schtupid,” Murderface snarls at Charles, arms crossed. “I already told him everything he needsch to know - I’m Nathan Explosion, the dark and broody lead singer. And that you’re Picklesch, the weirdly schexy drug addict who—“

Pickles’ eyebrow shoots up, “The wha—?”

Charles’ voice sternly interrupts, “Toki has no idea who you people are. Telling him things may...jog his memory. The sooner he remembers, the sooner Dethklok is back. Alright?”

“FINE. I’ll go firscht,” Murderface sighs dramatically. He walks over to Toki’s bed, the brunette looking at him with those empty eyes, “I’m Charlesch Foscter Of—“

“Nope nope nope. No,” Pickles shoves Murderface backwards, sighing as he forces his way to the front of Toki’s bed. He extends a hand to Toki, then thinks better of himself and retracts it, only to stiffly extend it again. “I’m, ah, Pickles the Drummer. Y’know, doodily doodily doo and all that crep.”

Toki blinks at him, offering a tired and vacant smile as one of his unsteady hands shakes the redhead's. “Nice to meets you, Pickle.”

The words completely stall his drummer, and Nathan knows exactly what’s going through his mind. He’s thinking about when he and Toki got super high on acid and sang Snakes 'n Barrels hits on the roof, or all the times he’d let Toki sleep in with him when he first moved to America and was scared of everything. Nice to meets you. Pickles stutters, looking down, “Uuuh. Yeaah, same....here, dood.”

Nathan decides to save him as he storms over, trying not to think about all the nights he had to angrily thrash out of bed because Toki had a nightmare and needed a cup of water, or when he would secretly get weekly pedicures with him and they’d make a whole day of it, because taking care of your feet is f*cking metal. His voice stammers as he looks at the infinite, pale blue void of Toki’s eyes, “Hey, uh. I...I’m uh, Nathan, Explosion. From...Dethklok. That ring any bells?"

Toki blinks, asking again, “Dethklok sounds like a reallies cools cats or somethings. Like a blacks one with a pinks nose."

Nathan’s left eye twitches. Nope. He does not have enough willpower for this.“Um. I’m tapping out. Murderface, you wanna do it right this time?”

He demands this more than asks, and the bassist grumbles as he shuffles over. “I’m William Murderfasche. You usched to do everything I schaid scho yousch better keep that in mind thisch time around. And if you remember anything incriminating I’ve done, juscht don’t even tell me. And especially don’t tell any copsch.”

That was as good as it was gonna get with Murderface. They all look at Skwisgaar, who’s still just standing there. He’s trying to look impassive and bored, but he’s failing miserably - he just looks angry, and really f*cking not okay. Nathan hates worrying - and yet here he is, staring at the blonde and wanting to gouge his own eyes out so he’d stop feeling things.

“Nos,” Skwisgaar takes a step back, eyes hard. “I amst doing this.”

Murderface rolls his eyes, “Don’t be such a dick, Skwischgaar. You sat in that f*cking schtool for MONTHS talking and talking, and now you’ve got nothin' to schay?"

“Whats ams the points? He ams not goingks to remembors me, which is hilmarikous because everything he ams,” Skwisgaar points a long finger at Toki, then slams it back into his own chest, “ams because of mes. It ams quite franklies offenskives."

“Skwisgaar,” Charles voice is as tired as Skwisgaar looks. “That’s not who he is right now. If you’re helpful, then—“

Nathan can see the blonde is teetering over the edge of being back to where he was before he overdosed, clamped in the strangling hand of a dark and squirming depression. Skiwsgaar’s voice is harsh as he glares at Toki, “I did not dedicate all of my times and efforts into yous for years just for yous to forgets it all. Surprise surprises, that punies brain amnst workings anymore. Whats the f*cks ams I supposed to say?”

Nathan notices that Toki hasn’t stopped looking at Skwisgaar since his turn started. He doesn’t look hurt, because he doesn’t remember how much the Swede's opinion mattered to him before, and the frontman can tell it just pisses off the blonde even more. It's almost like Skwisgaar would rather have Toki acting like he used to when they'd fight - the tears, the burning anger, the yelling - than...this. The brunette merely says, “I thinks I was dreamins about yous.”

Skwisgaar stares at him, the tornado of anger reversing and switching into confusion, “...Huhs?”

“I don’t remembers them when I wakes up, but you ams always theres,” Toki says, a drop of blood dripping from his left eye. “Maybes because you talks to me so much while I was asleeps before.”

Skwisgaar looks like he’s going to explode, and with what emotion, Nathan isn’t sure. All he knows is he needs calm down before he has some sort of aneurysm - with how emotionally unstable the blonde has been since he first saw Toki get stabbed at the funeral, the frontman's surprised it hasn't happened yet.

“I ah, told Toki that when he’s feeling better, you guys would help try and jog his memory,” Charles pipes up from behind his desk. He swats Murderface’s hands away from his computer, who was leaning over his shoulder and trying to press buttons. “That sounds fine, yes?”

“I say thatsch a good idea!” the bassist grins deviously, leaning against Charles. “Maybe juscht let ol Murderfasche take him and schow him all the good timesch we usched to have!”

“No, when the two of you hung out by yourselves, things always got...weird. This band doesn't need any f*cking mutinies or lawsuits right now,” Nathan glares at him flatly. He lets out a sigh, turning back to Charles. “Yeah. We’ll like, shoot the sh*t with him and pall around and whatever. Just like old times. Yknow. Before all this memory crap.”

“Yeaaaah,” Pickles agrees. He stares off dreamily, “What I wouldn’t give to be able to try crystal meth for the first time again. You remember doin’ drugs, Toki?”

The brunette shakes his head, his bloodshot eyes wide. “Wowee, I does drugs? Ams I a cools badass?”

“In some ways.” Skwisgaar raises an eyebrow, not looking at Toki. “We’ll see if yous still ams once we gets into the recordings studio.”

The Norwegian looks mystified by this, and Nathan remembers they still haven’t explained to him what Dethklok is. But the idea of their lead guitarist actually willingly going down to the recording studio, since he’s refused to do anything without his rhythm, sends a breath of crushing relief through the singer’s body. It’s about damn time they get back to doing what they do best. Being f*cking metal.

“The fans are quite...agitated, over the lack of Dethklok content. Especially since they’re in the dark on what’s going on with Toki, they’re desperate for answers,” Charles explains to the band. “I’ve scheduled an upcoming gala to end your hiatus and show the fans everything is fine. You’ll be wining and dining with the most important leaders in the world. And I’d like to keep Toki’s amnesia a secret, as not to alarm the public.”

“A gala? Fuuuuuck no.” Nathan groans, hand pinching his temples, “I hate having to go to that fancy sh*t.”

“Yeah, where you force us to have dates and try to stop us from getting wasted and all that crep,” Pickles complains, and Nathan misses the way that the drummer eyes him nervously. “Do we...have to bring dates?”

“Yes, Pickles, it’s expected. I’ll take the liberties of arranging them if you boys don’t have anybody in mind.”

“I don’t,” Nathan says bitterly, thinking about Abigail’s stupid beautiful face before angrily shoving her out of his head. He looks at Toki, “If you’ve forgotten, women are f*cking life-sucking she-devils. They'll stomp on your heart and leave it for the f*cking wolves."

“But theys ams so softs and pretties,” Toki smiles dreamily. “I don’t haves a ladymate or nothings? Kinds of a sausage festivals in here, nows that you mentions it.”

Nathan sees the corner of Skwisgaar’s mouth kick up in a self-deprecating smirk. “You was nevers veries intereksteds with the ladies.”

“Yeah, you’d bring ‘em back to your room to do colorin' pages more than anythin’,” Pickles chuckles fondly. The drummer pauses, voice lilting, “I dunno. Maybe you ‘n Skwisgaar could just go to this gala together. If you’re not supposed to have amnesia, you should prolly have a guide or somethin’, right?”

Skwisgaar’s face turns red, blue eyes narrowing harshly at Pickles, “Y-You thinks I would rathers take him and his empties dild*s head thans a beautiful womans?”

“Uhhh. Yeah, actually. I kinda do,” Pickles grins, and the blonde tries not to look at Toki as he exhales through his nose, even though he doesn't look...opposed, to the idea of spending the evening with him. Nathan co*cks an eyebrow but doesn’t really think anything of it - he can remember quite a few parties where the two of them ended up ditching their dates to get wasted and hang around with each other.That was just normal for the two of them.

“I've ah, gotta get back to business. Feel free to hang around. I’m still working on getting Toki’s brain scans figured out,” Charles says, waving a hand as he walks back to his desk. It’s...weirdly sweet, of Charles to have set up camp in Toki’s room. The youngest member of Dethklok being messed up has brought out the...nice...side of everyone (except for Murderface, who’s just a dick) and Nathan loathes how un-metal it is.

Charles pauses, then makes eye contact with Pickles. “Ah, a word?”

“Sure thing, chief,” he saunters over, a drumstick twirling idly between his fingers, and Nathan watches their manager clamp a hand on Pickles' shoulder and whisper something to him sternly.

“Aw, come ahn—“ the redhead protests with a guilty, crooked smile, but Charles interrupts with more whispering. Pickles waves his hands, “Relax, relax. It’s allll good, dude.”

“What ams dat abouts?” Skwisgaar whispers to Nathan, who grunts and shrugs a shoulder. He tilts his head a bit as he looks at Pickles - they had gotten, closer, ever since the funeral. With Skwisgaar always wrapped up in Toki, and Murderface just kinda keeping to himself, it was like they were on a perpetual friender-bender. Honestly, it was the small, sparkling light in the midst of a murky ocean of ultimate blackness. They got to have some good times over the past year, even if they were riddled with underlying anxiety. Tragedy brings people closer, and that's all their lives had been lately. He knows Pickles is taking meds to deal with everything, but he doesn't know if things were like, bad-bad. After Skwisgaar's overdose, Nathan was always a bit nervous about his friends and their addictions. If something was happening with his drummer, he wanted to know about it and knock some f*cking sense into the guy. He wasnot going to lose him too.

“I honestly have no f*cking idea what’s going on with anything anymore,” Nathan says flatly, ignoring the anxiety tearing apart his intestines. “It’s f*cking brutal.”

“I feels you theres,” Skwisgaar sighs, tossing his blonde hair behind his shoulder. He whispers, “Ams Tokis still lookings at mes?”

Nathan glances over his shoulder. Toki’s got a tissue under one of his bloody eyes again, and he’s squinting like he knows he should remember the blonde, but can’t. God, it's so good to see him awake. “Uh, yeah. He is.”

The breath Skwisgaar huffs out is shaky, “This ams goingks to kill mes, amnst its.”

“No,” he says gruffly, fists clenching. “Shut up. You’ll be fine. As long as you don’t, you know. Backslide, or whatever.”

“Oh, so yous all gets to do drugs to calm downs, but I cants,” the blonde pouts, and Nathan rolls his eyes hard.

“Yeah, because we know when to f*cking stop,” he glares, even as Skwisgaar raises an unconvinced eyebrow. “It’s for your own good.”

The blonde glares back, but his eyes slowly slide back over to where Pickles and Charles are talking. His drummer is shaking an empty prescription jar, and Charles is glaring harshly at him as he discreetly hands him a refill. Nathan sees the way Skwisgaar’s eyes light up with the familiar darkness of addiction, and he huffs out a sigh and rubs his temples. Being the leader of this f*cking band, combined with being a worrier, is exhausting.

There's a couple short, quick knocks on the door. Nathan instantly tries to figure out who it could be - Knubbler and Dr. Rockso both came and visited Toki pretty frequently throughout this whole coma thing, but for some reason, the way that person knocked gave him a bad feeling right away. Like someone's about to come in and piss him the hell off,and nothing can be done as Charles holds up a finger to Pickles and opens it. The minute her face comes into view, Nathan inhales sharply and his lips screw up in his signature pissed-off scowl. f*cking Abigail, in all of her sweet-smelling, she-devil glory. Just when he thought his day couldn't get any worse.

"Aw, what the f*ck," Pickles huffs, seemingly accidentally out loud. Nathan has the same thought, growling at Charles, "What the hell is she doing here."

Charles looks stoic other than a raised eyebrow. He ignores him, looking to the woman in the doorway, "Abigail. Nice to see you again." Nathan's hoping he's being what Murderface calls his "business bitch" persona - where he's fake and stoic for the sake of business - because if he really thinks it's nice to see her, they might need a new f*cking manager. Abigail broke his f*cking heart during the worst time of his life, and it was gruesomely hard to get through. He could go the rest of his life without ever seeing her again, just like he had previously thought he'd spend the rest of his life withher. What a f*cking joke.

"Hi guys," Abigail greets, rolling her eyes at Nathan, and that's all the acknowledgment he gets. It's honestly more than he even expected. She turns her attention to Toki, brushing past the rest of them coldly like the ice queen she is. When it comes to Toki, however, her cold exterior disappears. She has a soft spot for the kid, and Nathan can't blame her. Especially after everything they'd been through together, and he always respected the fact that Abigail wanted to maintain her silence on what happened while they were with Magnus - until now, because now they need any details they could get to try and fix this. She always switched between saying she didn't want to talk about it, and that Toki made her swear if they ever got out they'd take it to the grave. Nathan hates now that Toki's mind is gone, she's the only one with that information. That's way too much power for someone to have over the band.

"Hey," her voice is gentle - way sweeter than she ever talked to Nathan, what the f*ck - and she touches the side of Toki's face. "I just wanted to see how you were doing, since everything."

"Whats the f*cks ams she doingks," Skwisgaar mutters to Nathan, a protective air about him, but doesn't move to stop her. She continues as the brunette looks at her, "Look at us, huh? We made it out and we're finally okay."

"Youams okay," Skiwsgaar snaps at her, left eye twitching. "You makes it out without ams scratch, and here ams Tokis, all f*cksed up, and I bets you still won'ts tell us anythingks."

"Um. I'm sorries," Toki says hesitantly, and she must see the blankness in his eyes right away, because she slowly takes her hand off his face in surprise. He swallows, looking apologetic as he scratches at the bandages wrapped around his head, "I don'ts knows...who you ams. But don't takes it perskonals, I don'ts even knows who I ams, sos...."

He trails off. "Oh," Abigail breathes, eyebrows rising. "Um, I'm...sorry, too. Are you feeling alright otherwise?"

Toki offers her a weak smile, and even without knowing who she is, he's still caring about anyone but himself. Because, he lies. Even as blood seeps out of his eyes, and his face is practically ghost-white from blood loss, he says, "I'm doins pretty goods. It don'ts hurts that bads."

"Good," she says, and Nathan can tell she feels...guilty, and that'll help him sleep a little better tonight. There she is, all standing and okay and knowing who she is, and then there's Toki. Clearly, she doesn't know what else to do, because she stiffly walks over to Charles and Pickles, looking incredibly unsettled as she demands, "What the hell is wrong with him?"

"Y'know, we shouldn't hafta tell you nothin', 'cause then you'll know how it feels to have information withheld from ya," Pickles glares, arms crossed and shoulders hunched. Nathan smirks just a tiny bit - his drummer is such a loyal friend that he started hating Abigail in solidarity when they broke up. If that's not metal, he doesn't know what is. She glares hard at the drummer, who glares right back and snaps, "Ahviously, he's lost his memory. Prahbably because we have no idea what Magnus did to 'im, and we don't know how to f*ckin' fix it."

"Yes, I ah, suggested you visit Toki so you could understand what we're trying to work with here," Charles said, offering Nathan a half-apologetic shoulder shrug. He glares at his manager sharply, but says nothing else. He'd deal with having to see his ex-girlfriend for ten minutes if it meant fixing Toki. Would've been nice to have gotten a heads up, though. Bastard. "I know you don't wish to talk about what Magnus put Toki through. But I implore you to reconsider. Any information you have might--"

"I'm sorry, Charles," her voice is firm, hiking her purse up her shoulder as she continues towards the door. "I've already told you everything I can."

All the guys groan, their manager pinching his temples. Skiwsgaar looks like he might actually f*cking lose it on Abigail, eye still twitching, so Nathan ignores his desire to not be labeled gay and grabs the blonde's hand. Skwisgaar looks at him in surprise, and Nathan mumbles, "Calm down. We'll get the answers we need sooner or later."

He knows it's not metal to hold your friend's hand, but it actually seems to calm him down. The blonde snarls out, his hand squeezed tightly around Nathan's, "Why does there's haves to be secrets abouts this? We onlies wants to helps him, and we needs to f*ckingks knows--!"

"Toki made meswear that if we ever got out, I wouldn't tell a soul," Abigail glares just as harshly back at Skwisgaar, never one to take any sh*t. "And you know what's funny? He made me swear to keep his pain secret in order to protect you.He specifically said, 'especially not Skwisgaar' - he didn't think you'd be able to forgive yourself if you knew, and guess what? I hope it keeps you awake at night, that while you guys were out getting messed up and wasting time, Toki was getting the ever-loving f*ck beaten out of him. Did he get to keep the dog dish he was forced to eat out of? I still have mine."

Pickles' eyes are wide, and fiery. Murderface is sitting in Toki's hospital bed and blathering on to him, and Nathan is thankful the kid is distracted and not listening. Skwisgaar's whole body tremors, once, and he sucks in a breath of air. His hand around Nathan's is shaking, and he doesn't know if it's with rage or fear or sadness or what, but Nathan just manages to grind out on his friend's behalf, "If you're not gonna help, get thef*ckout."

She looks like she wants to say something, but her eyes flash back to Toki, and she thinks better of it. She turns, and leaves, Charles being the one to slam the door behind her.

Nathan tries to sleep that night, and doesn't expect much shuteye to come to him. He stays up, mind whirring with Abigail's brutal words and Toki's blank eyes and the miserable look on Skwisgaar's face. When the clock hits three, he thinks about the night that Toki first went into his coma, and the way Charles' blood-soaked frame loomed in his doorway. He thinks about the way Pickles shook as he held himself in the waiting room, about walking down a trail of blood, and Skwisgaar's wild, panic-stricken eyes. He nearly jumps out of his skin when his door creaks open, and out of everyone, he's definitely not expecting it to be Pickles.

"Heeey," Pickles' voice is a whisper, and the smell of weed fills the room, "You up?"

"Yeah," Nathan says gruffly, squinting through the darkness, "Doobies are a-blazin', huh? Can I hit it?"

"Hell yeah," Pickles grins crookedly at him, the vodka bottle in his other hand clinking against the doorway as he stumbles in. He shoves Nathan over in his own bed, making himself comfortable as he takes a swig of his vodka and passes Nathan the joint. The singer had never been more eager to get high in his life - sometimes, it helps him sleep, and he really wants to go to f*cking bed and stop listening to his own brain. Stop thinking about when Magnus shoved the knife through Toki's ribcage, stop thinking about the way he drank and drank while Toki was eating out of a f*cking dog dish, and oh god, was Abigail right--

"I can't ever sleep anymore," Pickles says, vodka rolling down his chin. He looks...really tired, and really stressed - probably a mirror image of Nathan's own face.

"Me neither," he mumbles, passing him back the joint. They sit in silence together, before Nathan hears himself say, "Are we, like...um. Bad friends? For not coming for Toki sooner?"

"Gahd, don't listen to Abigail's sh*t," Pickles scoffs, ripping the joint hard. "Charles was lookin' for Toki fer us. And if he couldn't figure out where he was, how could we, yanno?"

"I just..." Nathan makes a strangling motion with his hands in frustration. "I hate when she's right."

"She's naht right, dude," Pickles insists, and he wonders if his drummer feels just as guilty as he does. Nathan looks over at him, and he's staring at the ceiling. He can never figure out what's going on in his head - ever since they first met, Pickles has been hard to read, even though the two of them instantly connected so deeply. Even as they got closer, it never got any easier. The frontman pauses to look at the side-profile of his face - his eyelashes are so f*cking long, and the slope of his nose is...cute. That's the only word Nathan can think of, even if it makes him gag. Factually, Pickles has a cute nose. It's round and mushy and has a little dimple in it. Is that...gay of him to think, if it's a fact? Nathan reaches over and grabs the vodka bottle from him, taking a long swig to wash out whatever the f*ck thoughts he was just having.

"I used to sleep in wit' Skwisgaar, so I could get some shuteye. Not like he has chicks over anymore, or anything," Pickles breaks him out of his thoughts, tired eyes turning to Nathan. "I'm f*ckin' scared, dude. Whenever I'm sleepin' alone - or even, I'll be alone and close my eyes - I have the scariest f*ckin' thoughts and I can't deal with 'em. Think I have PTSD or some sh*t."

Nathan's eyebrows raise with all this new information. He could tell Pickles has been...edgier, ever since the night Toki went comatose, but he didn't realize it was this bad. His first thought is, "Why Skwisgaar?"

Pickles shrugs, his definitely-not-cute nose twitching. "I dunno. Thaght he needed it as much as me. But then he started stayin' in Toki's room and now I just feel...I don't wanna interrupt any sleep he's gettin', lord knows he needs it."

"Yeah." Nathan says, tongue feeling clumsy in his own mouth, "I can't sleep either, so. We could stay up together, I guess. Or maybe we'll get lucky and manage to actually f*cking sleep."

Pickles looks at him, the blue light from the water surrounding his room bouncing off of his green eyes. His expression softens, "You sure thet wouldn't bother you? Sometimes I get...screamy, y'know?"

"I know. I don't care," Nathan says, remembering having to drag a screaming, naked Pickles out of the shower and into Charles' office. "As long as you don't care about snoring."

Pickles smiles crookedly at him, and Nathan swears there's a pink tint to the drummer's cheeks, "Nah, I don't mind."

"Okay. Well..." he trails off, tossing the vodka bottle to the side of his massive bed as he rolls over. He stares at the fish as they float by in the inky blackness of the night ocean, and he can swear he hears a whale off in the distance. "Get some sleep, Pickles."

"G'nite, Nate," Pickles' voice is tired, and warm, and Nathan feels the bed move as the drummer rolls onto his other side too. For the first night in a long, long, time, Nathan goes to sleep during the hour of 3 am.

Chapter 4: dial m for magnus

Chapter Text

6 years ago...

The last few chords of Skiwsgaar and Toki's guitars ring throughout the recording studio, Nathan and Pickles standing at the control console with dropped jaws.

"Holy sh*t," Nathan presses the button so they can hear him. "f*ck. Guys, that was brutal. I f*cking knew a seventeen minute non-stop shredding duet was a good idea."

"I wish I could like," Pickles shakes his hands excitedly, "Listen to thet sh*t on a loop at my f*cking funeral! Thet was awesome!"

On the other side of the plexiglass, Skwisgaar and Toki are both smiling and sweaty and feeling f*cking amazing. They spent seventeen minutes playing together, back to back, thrashing and shredding on their guitars and complementing each other perfectly. When they stepped into the studio together, the talent that Toki brought out in him never ceased to amaze Skwisgaar. They were like fire and ice, sun and moon, life and death - polar opposites, but needed to keep each other balanced. Toki was practically vibrating from the praise, and from the excitement of nailing seventeen minutes of playing. He was neck-in-neck with Skwisgaar the entire time, and he didn't mess up once. Once they hit the three minute mark of their duet, the blonde had realized that his rhythm guitarist was playing with ease that only someone who practiced beforehand could have. He was pleasantly surprised, and a little miffed that Toki was trying to outdo him, but he could deal with that later.

Skwisgaar flips his sweaty hair behind his shoulder, trying to catch his breath, “Ja, I haves to admits, that was a goods one.”

Toki looks up at him with excited, adrenaline-filled eyes, “It was? I dids goods?”

He rolls his eyes, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “You weres a little lates on some of your cues, but it wasn’t that noticeablies this time.”

The Norwegian’s eyebrows raise in irritated shock, and before he can refute the blonde, Pickles' voice rings in their ears, "Gahd, don't start that sh*t, Skwisgaar! You guys are naht allowed to play so f*ckin' good together and then start fightin'."

"Yeah. You'll like, anger the guitar angels...of death. Don't f*ck with that sh*t." The singer stretches his arms, groaning as something in his back pops, and Skwisgaar doesn't miss the way Pickles' eyes rake over him when he thinks no one is looking. Nathan turns to the drummer, "f*ck. Wanna go get f*cked up until my back stops hurting?"

"I thaught ya'd never ask, big guy," Pickles grins, who pulls a bottle of vodka out from the front of his pants and cracks it open. The two of them pass it back and forth as they walk out, leaving Toki and Skwisgaar in the studio together. Thank god that's over - sometimes, Nathan can be a real bitch about getting things perfect for the album. Usually, Skwisgaar is given all the creative liberties for his, Toki's, and Murderface's parts - but since the frontman was specifically excited about this epically long duet, he had wanted to make sure things go smoothy. Skwisgaar lets out a sigh of relief and fans himself off with one hand, pulling his long hair back with the other as he tries to cool down. He can’t help but grin as he notices Toki is still glaring at him.

“I was not lates!” He protests, plucking his fingers at his guitar nervously - something he picked up from Skwisgaar. “You ams just hearingks what you wants to hears!”

The blonde chuckles, dropping his hand and letting his hair fall around his shoulders. “Ja rights. I wants you to dos good,” He says airily, like it’s no big deal, and Toki looks at him in surprise. Skwisgaar smirks knowingly at him, “That mights be achievekables, now that you finally f*ckingks praktisced.”

Toki blushes, playing short little riffs as he looks away, “Nos I didnst! Prakticsings is for dumb dild*s and that's why I don't do's it.”

“Oh ja? Yours fingers ams usuallies baby softs, because you nevers plays in your spares time.” He grabs one of Toki’s hands, rubbing his thumb against his middle and index finger. “Sees? I feels some callouses.”

The brunette watches where Skwisgaar’s finger runs over his, and he visibly swallows. He looks back up at him, cheeks red as he confesses, “Okays, okays. I was exciteds we gots a duets togethers, alrights? Don't makes funs of me. I thoughts I could show yous....”

Toki trails off, and Skwisgaar co*cks an eyebrow as he asks, “Show mes whats?”

He sighs, shoulders slumping. “Toki’s amnst as goods as yous, I knows. Ha ha's. But I thoughts I could shows yous I deserves the duets, you knows? And then...maybes you’d wants to do mores with mes."

Skwisgaar blinks at him in surprise. He knows Toki really wanted his own solo, and while he normally played the rhythm, this duet showcased him just as equally as it did the lead. He thought if there’d be any reason Toki would try and get better, it would be to surpass him. Not to try and feel worthy of being alongside him.

“Eugh. Don’t be dumbs, Toki.” Skwisgaar’s face heats, and his voice sounds bored, even though it takes a lot for him to say these words, “Honestlies, I onlies play my best when you ams playingks too. I wouldnst have bothored with yous in the first place if I didn’t thinks you had great potenktials.”

Toki’s eyes sparkle, a piece of his messy hair falling in his face. Skwisgaar glances at him, trying to look impassive as ever, even though his hands itch to tuck the fallen piece of hair behind his ear. He...had been trying to keep himself out of situations where he would be alone with Toki. It had been years since he gave him his first kiss, and he figured that with time, the weird feelings it left him with would go away. He was, of course, wrong.

He knew he had a crush on Toki the minute that he put his hands on either side of the brunette's face, the biting cold of the Chicago air unnoticeable as warmth filled his chest. Which, of course, that was not good, for so many reasons.Skwisgaar spent the first couple years fiercely denying it, which only made it worse. This last year consisted of him telling himself, “okays, you mights haves a little crushs on Toki. It ams not wrongs, as longs as you don’t acts on it.” And he has definitely come close to acting on it. Skwisgaar is aware of one major flaw in his otherwise perfect character - he has a problem with self-restraint. So sometimes, it’s really f*cking hard to look at Toki and not grab him by the face and kiss him with everything he’s got. Sometimes the brunette will be talking to him and Skwisgaar’s fingers twitch like he’s going to do it, and it takes everything in him to stomp that feeling down.

Especially right now, as Toki just stares at him, the warm lights of the recording room bouncing off his big eyes. Skwisgaar raises an eyebrow at him, palms sweating and feeling slightly nervous as he snaps, “Whats you thinks? I don’t waste my times on stupids talentless dild*s. We both knows you ams better than you performs, because you wouldnst have gotten into Dethklok otherwise. If you pracktised mores yous would be—“

“I’m,” Toki blurts, and Skwisgaar’s pauses when he sees how red the other man’s face is. “I’m, um, goods at kissins now.”

The blonde's eyebrows shoot into his hairline. His feels his own face heat as he stammers intelligently, “E-Excuse mes?”

“Remembers, you taught mes? I’m...not ams talentless dild*s at it anymores, so...” Pale eyes flicker up to his, the blue standing out against the red of his face. “Maybes you should gives it another tries.”

Did Toki really just ask him if he remembers? It's all Skwisgaar has thought about for the past three years, and every time they're alone together he's wondered if the brunette thinks about it as much as he does. He feels like he’s having several heart attacks, his sweaty hair sticking up at wild angles and his eyes the size of saucers. He hears himself breathe, “So you ams sayingks...? You want tos..?”

Toki nods, and he looks at him so...longingly. His eyes dart away nervously, so much like when they first kissed so long ago, “Yeah, I reallies want tos.”

Skwisgaar feels something in him break, and he looks to make sure nobody is around before he takes a step closer challengingly, voice smooth even as his heart threatens to pour out of his throat, “You ams betters than last time? Proves it.”

Toki doesn’t wait a second more before grabbing Skwisgaar’s face and kissing him. It still has that sweet softness that he’s looked for in every kiss he's had since their first one, but it has more confidence, more fire. He feels like he’s burning alive and drowning in the passion all at once as Toki’s blunt fingernails slide into his hair and he’s being shoved against the wall. Skwisgaar’s hands stutter in shock before he finds Toki’s face and he’s kissing him back desperately.He’s finally doing what he’s wanted to do for so long, and as the brunette moans helplessly when Skwisgaar angles his head and slides his tongue in his mouth, he wonders why they hadn’t done this sooner. And then, of course, as he pulls Toki closer against himself and smiles into the kiss, heart pounding and so damn happy, he remembers exactly what he was afraid of.

“We can’ts be doingks this,” Skwisgaar gasps for air, hair messy and in his eyes as he pulls away just an inch. Toki leans forward, brushing the tip of his nose against his own in a way that makes his whole body tremble, "Why's nots?"

The Swede's eyes dart around nervously, face flushed red as he pushes away his primary fear and goes with his secondary one, “W-What abouts the bands?”

“What does it matters to them if we dos the kissingks?” he raises an eyebrow. "That ams dumb excuse."

Skwisgaar stammers unintelligently for a minute. He knows what he should do, but he’s too selfish to do it. Here's Toki, his body pressing Skwisgaar's against the wall and looking at him like he wants him and offering him exactly what he's wanted for years. Another character flaw? Skwisgaar is selfish. He couldn’t give this up even if he tried. But he can limit himself, at least, so he forces himself to look at the Norwegian sternly, “We cant’s be anythingks more than this, Tokis. We amnst f*ckingks up the band.”

Toki just stares at him, blue eyes sparkling, “Sos, you wants to do mores kissins with Toki? We cans be the benefits friends, with all the kissins and huggins?”

Skwisgaar can’t believe he’s hearing these words come out of his bandmate's mouth. He always thought if he broached the subject of his feelings with Toki, it would be detrimental. To his friendship, to the band. He would want more than Skwisgaar could give - the monogamy, the relationship, and god, he really didn’t think he could handle any of that but he also wasn’t sure if he could turn it down. It terrified him to his very core.

But it wouldn’t be that bad if they were...friends who just fooled around, right? Skwisgaar looks at him hesitantly, “That ams...what you wants?”

“I wants to kiss yous, sos,” Toki’s eyes are on his lips before flashing up to his eyes. “Can’s I? Agains?”

He looks up at him eagerly, and Skwisgaar feels like he might just fall the f*ck over. He has no idea what he wants, but he does know he needs this. Again, he's selfish, and he's bad with self-restraint, which isn't always a great combination when someone's offering him everything he wants. So, he smirks at Toki, “Nathans shoulds be backs in twenties minutes to makes us do's our duets agains, so you bettors makes it count.”

Toki grins and practically launches himself back into Skwisgaar’s arms.

He goes back to the recording studio later that day, and to his surprise the rhythm guitarist is in there again. For a second, the corner of Skwisgaar’s mouth kicks up in a smile, because the idea of Toki practicing never gets old. But when he takes a step forward, and he listens, he realizes Toki is playing...something that isn't Dethklok. It's mourning, tortured, hauntingly romantic - this song is an extension of heart and soul, something Skwisgaar has never heard before. He's mesmerized as he watches a single tear roll down Toki's face as he plays skillfully and intensely, the way that one does when they think nobody’s around. It sounds damn near perfect. He hadn’t realized one of his hands fluttered up over his chest as he watched, until he feels himself clutching at his heart. The way this melody made him feel...

His eyes harden as he inhales sharply and looks away. They’re just friends - no feelings. That can’t be anything more, and he hopes he made that clear enough to Toki - maybe then, he can convince himself, too.

Present Day

The blonde guy - Skwisgaar, he thinks, the one with the beautiful hair who sang beautiful songs to him while he was trapped in the darkness, and why doesn’ts he remembers hims, he knows he shoulds remembers - is looking at him again. The two of them stand in a recording room together, and although there's a fair amount of space between them, he can feel the tension between them in the air. Toki tugs at the gray long-sleeved shirt he’s wearing self-consciously, feeling hot under Skwisgaar’s gaze.

Why is he in a recording room? Because two weeks ago, he woke up in a strange new reality - one where he’s a metal superstar who shreds on the guitar and does drugs and has some really cool model planes in his palace of a house. The guys explained to him what ‘Dethklok’ is - apparently, said metal band is a pretty big deal. Toki feels proud of his old self to be apart of something so important - and he feels so disappointed in his new self, for not remembering a thing about it.

He doesn’t know much about who he's supposed to be, honestly. He knows his name is Toki Wartooth, he plays the guitar in Dethklok and he lives in a place called Mordhaus with his best friends. It sounds like he was living in a metal fairytale or something. They all seemed to care about him so much - even the one who says his name is Murderface, who seems like he’s kind of a dick (Toki didn’t know if he was kidding about his name or not after all those fake out introductions, and frankly he was too afraid to ask). He doesn't remember anything about his so-called friends, but he does have a deep-seated feeling that he needs their approval. This is why he stands in the practice room, holding an instrument that he doesn’t even recognize and watching the men on the other side of the window nervously.

“You ams okays?” Skwisgaar asks, keeping himself a good distance away from him as the brunette struggles to put his guitar on. The blonde had been like his shadow ever since he woke up - always lingering, but trying to just stay in the background. He almost feels like his guardian angel, because whenever Toki expresses any level of discomfort he’s pushed himself out of the shadows and is right there asking him if he’s alright. Besides that, the blonde doesn’t talk to him as much as he did when he was in the coma - somehow he gets the feeling that Skwisgaar isn’t sure what to say to him anymore.

“I thinks sos...” His body leans to the side a bit, as if he’s going to fall over, and the Swede grabs his shoulders and steadies him. The minute he touches him, Toki’s eyelashes flutter and he looks up, blue eyes searching almost desperately for some type of memory. The blonde stares at him, and waits for him to recognize him, eyes searching back just as desperately.

“I-I’m sorries, I’m okay,” he breathes, steadying himself and clutching at his guitar. Skwisgaar exhales through his nose, blinking the hurt away as he leans against the wall. Toki feels like a terrible person - this guy really wants his memory back, even if he tries to act like he doesn’t care. Honestly, the whole band has been looking at him longingly, as if a switch will flip and he’ll just be back to whoever he was before. He wishes he could do it, for them.

“If you amnst readies, just says so,” Skwisgaar mutters to him, glancing through the glass to see one of the guys booting up the control center.

“Nathans says we’s gots to knows if I cans still plays...I haves a bads feelings I dont’s likes lettings peoples down,” he scratches the back of his neck, guitar hanging on his frame by the strap as his hands float unsurely around him. Skwisgaar is just staring at him, lips in a pout and eyes unreadable, and Toki swallows as he forces himself to hold the instrument.

“Alright, you ready Toki?” Nathan asks through the intercom. The other three - Pickles, Charles, and Murderface - all lean forward, watching eagerly, as Toki looks to Skwisgaar worriedly.

“Just...tries your bests. Maybes once you starts playingks, it’ll comes back to yous,” he offers, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. The brunette's eyes follow the action. Skwisgaar is the biggest mystery of his old life - he tries to act like he doesn’t care about him, and even Toki can tell he's failing miserably. When Toki looks at him, he feels...safe, even though he also makes his heart ache. He wants to ask him about why he felt like this, but he's too nervous to say anything. He isn’t sure why.

“Whats?” The blonde asks, snapping him out of his own mind, hand on his hip.

“Nothins!” Toki squeaks instantly, looking away. He plays with his own hair nervously, “I-I was justs, um, thinkins.”

“...You rememboringks somethings?” Skwisgaar asks, painfully eager, and when Toki looks at him he’s almost jarred by how hopeful the poor guy looks. And then, the blonde looks embarrassed, as he lowers his voice and says hesitantly, “Does yous remembors whens...we dids our duets, maybes?”

Toki thinks. He really wants to remember, to make the blonde happy, but his mind is dark and blank. He feels ashamed of himself as he stares at his feet, shaking his head, and he’d bet money that the other man looks eviscerated."Let’s gets on withs this,” Skwisgaar’s voice is hard as he bangs on the plexiglass and signals to them that Toki is ready."Comes on, we don'ts have all days."

“A-Are you guys am sures I’m in dis metal bands?” Toki asks the guys on the other side of the window uneasily. “I don’t thinks I knows how’s to does it...”

“Yeah, dood!” Pickles leans into the microphone. “Just give it a shaht!”

Skwisgaar bites his bottom lip uneasily as Toki shakily holds up his pick. His fingers clumsily try to play a chord, and he just kind of ends up dragging the pick unsettlingly across the strings. He can feel the tension radiating off Skwisgaar, and the guitar feels so wrong in his hands, and it’s too much. Tears prick Toki’s eyes, which dart back and forth as he squeaks out, “I-I’m sorries—! I-I knows I should knows, but—“

Blood drips from his eyes onto the floor.

“Oh f*ckingks hells,” Skwisgaar huffs to himself more than Toki, panic almost visibly shooting through his body. He kicks back into guardian angel mode and grabs Toki by the shoulders. He quickly ushers him out of the room, grip on him soft yet firm and creating a lump in the brunette’s throat. They stand in front of the rest of the guys, who look stricken with disappointment, and Toki can’t stand to feel like he’s let them down. Skwisgaar hisses at them, “This ams too soons to push ons him.”

“Skwisgaar, we need to make music. It’s your job. The economy depends on this,” Charles’ voice has an edge to it. “If Toki can’t play, then you have to step up and record both parts.”

“f*cks the eckomonies,” Skwisgaar rolls his eyes uncaringly, as Toki idly tries to wipe off the blood rolling down his cheeks. “I’m tellingks you, I cants plays as goods when Toki amnts playingks. The audience has comes to expects a certains levels of performskance from mes.”

Toki’s eyebrows arches just as bit at this comment. He isn’t sure why this comment makes him feel...warm. Even still, the guilt he feels from letting everyone down practically crushes him, his eyes scanning over the stressed faces of the other band members.

“The audience expects an album,” Nathan grinds out in frustration. “We need you to be our f*cking guitarist again.”

Skwisgaar glares back at Nathan, “That ams all you cares abouts? If we focuses on gettingks Toki’s mind backs instead of playingks—“

“Skwisgaar,” Pickles says, voice pleading. “You gahtta give us a break here, dood. It’s almost been a year since we’ve put sh*t out or done a show. You think you won’t be as good without Toki, but ‘not as good’ in your eyes is still waaay better then nothin' to everyone else.”

“You guys are expected to play at the gala, which is less than a month away,” Charles says, and Skwisgaar rolls his eyes flatly.“You’re going to need new material. This is one of the most important venues the band will ever play.”

“Yeah! And what about the cash, huh? We need money to keep up MY expenschive lifeschtyle!” Murderface hisses, slamming his hand on the center console.

The bassist slams his hand down, and the noise crashes through Toki's brain like a bomb. Everything suddenly warps around him, turning an ugly, dark shade of green. The warm lights of the studio change into a flickering, almost-burnt out fluorescent, and the brunette gasps as he knocks back into the wall.

“Toki, holy shiet, you alright?” The drummer’s voice sounds like it’s coming from underwater, and he flashes back to reality a bit as he feels sweaty hands on him, shaking him. He almost comes back, but then there’s a collar clamped around his neck that chains him to the floor, there’s a dog dish just out of reach next to him. He’s bleeding andhe’s scared and he hears a pair of shoes clicking against the ground, coming for him, coming to hurt him again, and he claws at the collar like a wild animal as he tries to get free.

“They didn’t come for you,” a voice says in his ear, “It’s always only been for the money. You’re only back so they can play again.”

Toki feels like he can’t breathe. The blood pours out of his eyes until they pop and explode, the bones in his fingers shifting within their skin casing. He grips at his own hair desperately, trying to get away from the approaching footsteps with a feral intensiy, and—

When he blinks and comes back, Pickles is grabbing onto him frantically and staring at him with wide eyes. “Toki, f*ck! Are ya back with us?”

Nathan is holding Skwisgaar back - in what looks like a combination of a chokehold and a hug (for some reason, he seems to remember the term hug therapy) -and the two of them look equally shaken as they stare at him. Even Murderface looks surprised, and their manager's hand is up over his own mouth in shock.

“I-I don’t knows what happeneds...” he gasps for air, the lighting and the colors of the room fading back to normal. Pickles has one of Toki's wrists in each of his hands, which are shaking violently, holding him so hard that his blunt fingernails dig into his flesh. When Toki looks at his own fingernails, they're full of skin and blood. "D-Did I hurts someones?"

"Just...yerself, dood," Pickles slowly drops his hands, eyes huge. "Your throat...you were, uh...clawin' at it..."

Pickles wipes underneath Toki’s eyes, and when his hands draw away they’re drenched in red. He can see something traumatic flashing behind the drummer’s eyes as he looks at him dizzily.

"Let's, ah...get you checked out." Charles shows Toki exactly what he's doing before he places his hands on his shoulders, leading him to his hospital room. The Norwegian glances back as they walk away, to see Skwisgaar's crushed face as he stands limply in Nathan's big arms.

Here’s something Toki would never admit to the rest of the guys - while they were happy he was finally awake, he’d take the coma again in a heartbeat. In the coma, he didn’t feel pain, or this crippling confusion, or the feeling like he had hands squeezing on his brain at all times. He didn’t have to see how disappointed these people were, and he didn’t have to wonder what Skwisgaar used to mean to him.

Skwisgaar is on a mission. Sneak into Pickles' room, score some drugs. This definitely wouldn’t be the first night he’s done this, and it wouldn’t be the last. He hasn’t had anything besides alcohol since the day he OD’d, and just the thought of snorting, smoking, or injecting anything to take this putrid feeling of helplessness away tugs a bitter smirk across his face.He knows Pickles might be...less than willing him to help him out, but he figured if Pickles didn't know, then it never had to be a problem. He can't remember a time where Pickles ever said no to giving someone drugs - he wouldn't notice any are missing.

He really feels like he’s at the end of his ropes with all of this. Everything Skwisgaar had dealt with up until this point seemed like it had at least a shred of manageability; he knew the kidnapping would end in them finding Toki, he knew the coma would end someday when Toki woke up. But Toki’s brain being wiped clean? Charles has already told him, they have no way of knowing if his memories will ever come back.

He hates how different the pale blue eyes that used to be so comfortingly familiar look. Everything about him is different - it's like someone scooped Toki clean of everything he was, leaving this empty shell in its wake. If his rhythm guitarist never plays again, Skwisgaar will never play as good as he knows he can. He’ll never be able to hear that song that Toki played on the night of their second kiss, tucked away and lost with the rest of their time together. And on top of it all, he's haunted by the idea that everything the two of them had is lost. He wishes he would’ve known, back when Toki was whole and begging to spend time with him, that this is how things would end. He would’ve never let him go, instead of pushing him away. He hates himself so much that he feels like he’s drowning in it.

This in mind, he pads through the hallways of Mordhaus, only one thing on his mind. For one to get to Pickles’ room, you have to walk past Toki’s. Skwisgaar can’t help but think of all the nights the two of them had to sneak past their drummer, especially during the early days of their fooling around. He also thinks about how he didn’t let the Norwegian spend the night in his room, at first. He’d kick him out, because he didn’t want either of them to get used to it. The image of Toki’s disappointed face when he’d have to go back to his own room burns Skwisgaar’s eyes, and he squeezes them shut as he stops at the brunette's door for a breather.

That’s when he hears it.

“Nos, nos, Mangus, nos...” Toki’s sleep-heavy voice sobs almost hysterically through the door. “Ohs my gods, it hurts...”

Ice slides into his veins, his entire body suddenly feeling like it’s full of a thousand piercing needles. He has no idea what Magnus did to Toki - but whatever it was, it was enough to send him into a f*cking coma and made Abigail swear to never tell him about it, so it must’ve been...too brutal for Skwisgaar to handle. Since when was Toki a knight in shining armor, trying to protect him? Was it because he knew that it was Skwisgaar’s fault, and wanted to spare his feelings? Was it--

The blonde is snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of muffled sobbing, “They ams comin's for me, you’ll sees...”

A wheezy, pained noise huffs its way out of Skwisgaar, and he quickly opens the door. Toki’s fast asleep, hair drenched in sweat, eyebrows knitted and fingers clawing marks into his own throat, just like how he did in the recording studio earlier when he freaked out. Skwisgaar quickly sits on Toki’s bed, and his hands float in the air unsurely before he bites his bottom lip and starts shaking him.

“Toki. Wakes up,” he whispers as gently as he can. The other man grumbles weakly, swatting at him. “Don’t be ams dild*s, wakes up.”

“Stop talkings to mes in my heads,” Toki moans, his hands moving from his throat to his forehead. “It amnst trues...”

Skwisgaar shakes him a tiny bit more, voice thick with concern, “Toki. Comes on. You ams okays...”

The brunette’s eyes move rapidly beneath his eyelids, and then his lashes slowly flutter open. “Whuhts?” Toki mumbles, looking pained as he comes to. He looks up at him blearily, face tear-streaked, “Skwisgaar...?”

“Ja,” he reaches out a hand to touch the Norwegian's face, but he quickly retracts it. He swallows thickly, “You ams okays?”

“I was havin’s nightmares agains...” Toki mumbles, rubbing at his eyes.

“I knows,” he says quietly. “Do you remembors what abouts?”

Toki shakes his head, eyes on Skwisgaar. His breath hitches when the brunette raises a shaky hand, and touches his face like he did when he first came out of his coma. “Ams I stills dreamins?”

“Nos,” he whispers, eyes wide, and he fears his heart might actually burst out of his chest.

“Ohs,” Toki says, deftly tracing over Skwisgaar’s cheekbone exactly like he used to in almost wonder. “I just thought...because you ams always in thems, when I haves good dreams...”

“I-I,” the blonde shakes his head, cheeks blazing, and he’s suddenly desperate to get away before he breaks down completely. “I-I’m sorries. Goes back to sleeps.”

Toki does the opposite. He sits up, suddenly looking sick, and Skwisgaar is instantly terrified that he’s going to start vomiting blood again. Instead, however, the other man clutches at his own arms like he’s cold, even though he’s been wearing long sleeves constantly lately, “Can I asks you somethings?”

“Um, ja." He hopes he doesn’t look as afraid as he feels, because Toki could ask him anything. Good or bad.To Skwisgaar’s horror, the brunette's eyes well up with tears, “What ams wrongs with mes?”

Skwisgaar frowns helplessly, “Toki, we don’ts knows why you cants remembors—“

“Nots thats,” Toki swallows, and before Skwisgaar can object, he starts taking off his shirt. God, he hadn’t seen those abs in a long time, but it doesn’t feel right to ogle him in this state, so he tries to look away. But then he hears Toki’s voice, so full of pain, “My bodies ams terrifyingks. I’m covered in these...things...”

Skwisgaar looks. He wishes he hadn’t.

Some of the scars are old - Skwisgaar can remember the way Toki’s voice shook as he told him about what his dad put him through as a child. He can remember tracing his long fingers over the old, raised scars, and the way it made Toki bury his face into Skwisgaar’s chest and try to sift through all the emotion that came along with them.But now? There was more scar than skin, at this point. Toki had scars on his neck and wrists from the chains that the blonde already had noticed, but these new ones were all over - some were huge and raised, or paper thin and achingly deep, and they all looked like they were meant to be so...intentionally painful. He could see places that were stitched up sloppily, and most of them were torn-at and bubbled up from previous infection. There’s an unknown symbol branded blood-red into the middle of Toki’s spine, as well as...one of his hands flutters over his mouth. The letter ‘M’ carved into his left shoulder blade.

Everything new was from f*cking Magnus, of course, and seeing the M proudly carved into Toki pissed him off more than he could’ve thought was humanly possible. Magnus knew Skwisgaar would see that. An image appears in his mind - their old rhythm guitarist dragging a knife down Toki's back, smiling as the brunette screams and sobs, collar chokingly tight around his neck as he wonders why Skwisgaar isn't saving him. Meanwhile, the blonde probably had a pair of sunglasses balanced on his nose as he laid passed out on the beach, a bong in one hand and a brewski in the other.

Skwisgaar exhales sharply through his nose, body shaking and unsure of how to respond as the two of them sit in silence. Toki’s doing that pouty lip thing that would usually melt him, but tonight it just destroys him even more. He looks so...small, and hurt. Skwisgaar quells the tornado of emotion inside of himself because the brunette is staring at him and desperately waiting for some sort of reaction. He can’t let him know how much this destroys him.Especially when Toki throws his hands over his face and wails, “I knows, I’ms hideous! What's the points of havin's abs when nobodies even goings to noticesthemsanymores?"

“Nos,” Skwisgaar instantly says, snapping out of his own inner turmoil, because no matter how gutted he feels, Toki needs him to be strong. The blonde sits back down, and he says with a voice so sincere it’s jarring, “Lets me tells you somethings about youself. You ams an annoyingks dild*s baby who doesn’t praktice, and you drives me ups the wall with your stupidsdidty. But I would rather haves you here with all your imporfektioms then none of yous at all.” He'ss unable to meet the other man’s eyes as his cheeks flame under the brunette’s surprised gaze. “Trust mes. You still ams the most specials thing in the worlds, to me. I shoulds have tolds you, when it actuallies would means something to yous to hears that.”

"I'm sorries," Toki whispers, and his eyes are still so empty, but they spark with some sort of emotion he probably can't work out or understand. His face screws up and he squints at Skwisgaar, a tiny stream of blood leaking out of his eye. He wrings his hands in frustration, holding his head, "It'srighttheres!f*ckins tit*, I wish I could just grabs it..."

Skwisgaar just stares at him, honestly kind of afraid, because there's a lot of memories between the two of them that would seem incredibly harsh out of context. But Toki just pinches his temples, scars still on full display, before he sighs and flops back against his bed.

“You should gets to beds,” Skwisgaar says, channeling his uncaring tone of voice even though the idea of letting go of Toki and going back to his own room makes him feel like he's being strangled. Soft brown hair brushes against his pillow as he nods tiredly in agreement.

“Okays,” he says, letting out a big sigh, grabbing his shirt and squirming back into it. He looks around, then raises an eye at Skwisgaar, “Where ams my bear?”

"Where ams your...?" His eyebrows shoot into his hairline, and Toki suddenly looks surprised too, heart pounding as he gapes, “You remembors your stupid bears?”

Blue eyes fill with tears, hand over his mouth, “Yeahs, I-I remembers him! Deaddy Bear! I-I slept with hims every nights...is he okays? Wheres ams he? Oh my gods, he must've been so sads while I was gones..."

Skwisgaar knows exactly where Toki’s bear is, because he now sleeps with him every night (and if the brunette ever got his memory back, he'd take that to his grave). He blushes, blinking away tears, because this is the first time he’s been happy in a year without it being stomped on, “I’ll finds him for yous. I promskise.”

"Thanks yous." Toki smiles at him tiredly, closing his eyes, “You ams reallies nice guys, Skwisgaar."

And just like that, his happiness is stomped on. When he says those words to him, all he can think about is one of the last conversations the two of them had before all of this happened.

"I f*ckings hates you Skwisgaar!” Toki yells across the living room of Mordhaus, guitar clenched in one hand and his middle finger flipped up in the other. “Yous a f*ckings piece of Swedish sh*ts!”

"Oh ja? If yous thinks I’m a piece of sh*ts, then what ams you? Besides the worst guitar playors in the house! And we lives with Moiderface!" Skwisgaar yells back, storming across the room towards Toki. He jabs him in the chest, “Pardons me while I go and re-record all your riffs because they ams so f*ckings painfuls to listenks to! I f I's could go one days withouts having to see yous stupids face, it would bes a dreams come trues!”

Toki’s shoulders raise and fall as he breathes unevenly, tears pricking the corners of the brunette’s eyes. Skwisgaar’s face falls the tiniest bit as well, but never one to back down, he merely tilts his chin up and looks away.

Skwisgaar tries to smile at the Toki who looks at him now, the Toki who has no idea that they ever even had that conversation. Who has no idea that the blonde kissed him on a balcony ten years ago and changed both their lives. Skwisgaar's smile comes out as more of a wobbly cringe than anything, and he forces himself to get up. He hesitates for just a second before he starts to walk away. Maybe he should tell him about their past. Maybe hearing it would jog his memory. But what if it didn’t? What if—

“I’m sorries I don’ts remembers you,” Toki’s tired voice rings in his ears, his whole body freezing. “If it’s any conskulmations...I can feels somethins that didn’ts go aways. I just...donts knows what it is.”

Skwisgaar’s hand clenches on the doorknob, his bottom lip wobbling dangerously. He steels himself, squeezing his eyes shut painfully, “Just gives yourself times, Toki. If you never remembors...it will be okays either ways.”

It’s one of the biggest lies he’s ever told, and he hopes Toki can’t see through it. If he never remembers, Skwisgaar will quite literally fall apart in every way...even though he already feels like he's falling apart now.

One would think this conversation would give him some form of hope, but when he gets to the other side of Toki’s door, he feels like all the life in his body was just sucked out of him. He finally breaks down, the weight on his heart crushing and unforgiving, as he makes a beeline for Pickles’ room.

Chapter 5: drunk acid brain

Chapter Text

5.5 years ago...

Skwisgaar asked himself one question constantly, ever since Toki had kissed him in the recording studio six months ago - was it possible to be best friends, enemies, bandmates, coworkers, and lovers without things getting messed up? Some days, he’d say starting this with Toki was the worst idea in the world. Others, he’d curse himself for not having done it sooner. The constant mental push and pull between wanting to give himself to his feelings and wanting to put an end to it all, the daggers in his bruised heart and the crushingly hopeful butterflies in his chest, was making him start to crack.

But one day, he gets his answer.

During a show, he and Toki had gotten...distracted during an intermission, and they were 20 minutes late coming back on stage. Nathan was glaring harshly at them where he stood at his microphone, turning around swiftly as the fans cheer wildly, “What the f*ck. I know we hate our fans, but we don’t hate making money.”

Pickles slammed his drumsticks together and the band started playing. Skwisgaar felt like he was in a daze, fingers slipping recklessly over the strings of his guitar. He and Toki just made out, and honestly ended up getting a little...handsy backstage, and Skwisgaar was so distracted by what Toki had just made him feel that he almost forgot he was at his own concert. He’s a perfectionist - he never gets distracted. He doesn’t like losing control, and the fact that he was getting messy with his playing because of his messing around with Toki really rubbed him the wrong way. The band always had to come first.

But the setup was so, so good. Too good to be true, even. They act completely normal by day, palling around with the band and getting into their regular shenanigans. Then night comes, and they get to do Skwisgaar’s favorite pastime behind closed doors. Sometimes, it was admittedly hard not to blur the lines - Toki would get mad at him when he’d use his “groupie voice” on him in bed, Skwisgaar would feel uneasy when Toki would want to spend the night in his room and snuggle. He originally figured he didn’t have anything to worry about, as long as Toki didn’t mention any of the scary relationship stuff or want more than Skwisgaar thought he could give. But even though it hadn't messed with their friendship, and it was admittedly fun sneaking around, Skwisgaar had other problems.

In addition to fearing how their...arrangement, had been affecting the band, Skwisgaar was stressed about his self-restraint issues again. Even though the blonde desperately fought his feelings tooth and nail, he knew he felt them deep down. They were practically strangling him at this point, and he hated himself for it. Said feelings came out often - when Skwisgaar would catch Toki looking at him across the table during a boring Charles meeting, when they sat just a little too close to each other on the couch, when Toki smiled at him on stage as they played together. His emotions were at their worst after-hours - and Skwisgaarwasn't used to feelings things, especially not during sexual encounters. It was as terrifying as it was eye-openingly amazing.

“Where are you two going. Again.” Nathan demands more than asks from where the rest of the guys sit in the hot tub, once they're back at Mordhaus after the concert. Skwisgaar and Toki were halfway out the door, and they both freeze in their tracks.

“Eughhh....I don’ts knows about Tokis, but I ams goings to, uhs, bang slu*ts in my rooms like usuals,” Skwisgaar says quickly, and everyone seems to accept this, because post-show slu*t banging has been Skwisgaar’s routine for as long as they’ve known him.

“Whats?” Toki looks at Skwisgaar, wide eyes, “But I thoughts—“

Skwisgaar elbows Toki, who quickly cuts himself off. “Oh! Uh, I means, I’m goings to goes to my rooms too! You knows, color, writes in my diaries, usual Toki stuffs....”

“More booze for us,” Pickles cheers to them with a bottle of something, having been wasted for the past six hours already, and the two of them practically run off as the band turns its attention back to drinking.

Toki’s lips are on his the minute the door to Skwisgaar’s room shuts behind them, hands in his hair, the adrenaline from the show still running through his body. Skwisgaar has known for a long time that Toki is an affectionate person, but he never would’ve expected him to have a blindingly hot, uncontrollably passionate side. It almost always takes him by surprise, and similarly to when they play the guitar together - it’s a challenge, and Skwisgaar refuses to be outdone.

“Wowee! That was a fun shows,” Toki’s voice is muffled by Skwisgaar’s lips, who’s now straddling him on the bed as he eagerly pulls Toki’s shirt up over his head. “If I woulds have hads the solos then maybes it woulds have been betters, but...”

Skwisgaar flips his hair back, face flushed and working on the button of Toki’s jeans as he glares playfully, “Ja rights. I playeds corcles arounds yous tonights.”

“But you—!” Toki’s words are cut off in a strangled noise as Skwisgaar kisses him again. Toki happily kisses back, but puts his hands on the side of Skwisgaar’s face and detaches their lips.

“Toki. Whats the f*cks,” Skwisgaar glares at him impatiently, cheeks splotchy red. “We donts have much times befores the guys—“

“Lets me tries to plays your solos, before we does,” Toki says, eyes excited. “It wills be likes the serenades!”

The corner of Skwisgaar’s mouth kicks up, as he dismounts Toki and sits back on his bed. “Fines. But it you dissapoints me, you amnst gettingk nothings from mes tonights.”

Toki levels him with a look - they both know there hasn’t been one time the brunette has come looking for him that he’s turned it down. Sex with Toki, Skwisgaar hated to admit, was...different. Better. He didn’t know why, because Toki wasn’t overly talented or anything - but it was making him enjoy the act with groupies so much less that he was feeling...disinterested in the one thing he’s always loved. He still does indulge in groupies, albeit less frequently, but Toki doesn’t care. Or at least, he probably doesn’t care because Skwisgaar doesn’t even want to put that question on the table. He did have to admit, doing these things with someone he actually cares about...changed the experience. It was like a whole door had opened to him, and things he's done a thousand times suddenly felt brand new. He can’t shake that feeling that he’s done it with thousands of people, and yet...he’s never done it with anyone this...eugh, he hates to even think it, but Toki is significant.

He's aware that Toki is the closest thing to a "grand romance" he's ever had, and it's all he can think of now as Toki, shirtless and flustered from kissing and still half-drunk from the show, sits cross-legged on the bed with Skwisgaar’s guitar in his lap. He looks at Skwisgaar with a nervous determination before he plays. The blonde rests his chin on his palm, and he listens. Of course, there are a few mistakes, but it’s almost daunting how good Toki doesn’t even realize he is. It makes him want to take the guitar and prove that he’s better - and that feeling alone makes the blonde smile. He loves being challenged, loves the way Toki pushes him to be better, loves the concentrated expression on the brunette’s face as he plays Skwisgaar’s guitar, loves—

That word. That word is the cause of all his damn problems, and he banishes it from his mind before it can surface any further.Skwisgaar thinks about how he performed at the show earlier. He thinks about how his fingers felt clumsy and unpracticed on his own guitar, because he was so distracted by Toki. Even right now, he's distracted - he should have one floozie on each leg, celebrating what should've been a great show with his friends in the living room. But that’s not where he wants to be, not what he wants to be doing. He thinks about monogamy and love, and the gooey warm feeling washes over him again, and oh god, he’s going to be sick—

“Sees!” Toki exclaims, finishing off the end of the solo. “I tolds you I coulds do its just as goods as you!”

“I wouldnst say ‘just as goods.’ You ams not bads. But there ams somethingks you missed..."Skwisgaar swallows down the panic that had been rising to throat,picks up Toki’s guitar that had been unpacked from the tour bus, and he quickly plays a part from the middle of the solo. “Sees? You playeds it like this--"

“Nos, I playeds it like this,” Toki says, and then the two of them play over the part, perfectly in sync. They pause, and Skwisgaar can’t help but smile, and instead of having sex the two of them sit on the bed and play each others’ guitars together until the sun starts to rise. It's the first time the blonde has ever let someone stay the night in his room, and just talked to them. That was the night, as Toki strummed painfully on Skwisgaar's guitar, that he told the blonde why he was afraid of bicentennial quarters. He had never opened up to him like that before, and it felt...good. Like they really were connected in every way.

Toki yawns, the morning sunlight shining on his blue eyes, as he looks at Skwisgaar nervously. The blonde raises an eyebrow, waving a hand in front of his face, "Toki? You ams doingks the things, where you staringks at mes. I can't reads your dild*s minds, you knows."

"Sorries," Toki he, and it's so infuriatingly cute that Skwisgaar nearly cracks Toki's guitar in half. Instead, the brunette reaches into his pocket, and he refuses to make eye contact as he extends something to him. Toki's voice is high, and nervous as he talks quickly, "I mades this for yous. You can listens to it if you wants, but, um, you'll probablies thinks it's dild*s, sos. You don'ts haves to."

Skwisgaar looks down, to see he's been handed a small cassette. He turns it over in his hands, and sees his own name is sloppily written on the front, and nothing more. Besides a tiny heart drawn in, that is, and the blonde suddenly feels like he can barely breathe. He hears himself ask faintly, "What ams this?"

"It's just playins," Toki mumbles, picking at his fingernails nervously. "Stuff froms my heads."

Skwisgaar knows how his rhythm guitarist functions - he can't read or write music, so on the rare occasions where Toki practices or plays in his room, it's all just off the top of his head. His playing is connected deeply to his emotions - like the time that the blonde saw him playing alone in the recording studio - and if Skwisgaar's name is written on this, and Toki is so nervous to give it to him... "These ams songs, for mes," Skwisgaar says quietly, eyes snapping up to the other man in realization.

Toki looks like he wants to die, biting his bottom lip and left eye twitching, "Just gives it back, I--"

"Nos ways," he snaps, holding the cassette to his heart protectively, and Toki looks just as surprised as he does. "You playeds them for mes, and sos, this ams mine."

"You...reallies wants to listens to thems?" the brunette asks hesitantly, a smile starting to bloom on his face. Skwisgaar nods, because he really, really does. Nobody's ever played anything for him like this before. Nothing, to Skwisgaar, is more powerful than music. He keeps this in mind when Toki falls asleep, curled up around the blonde's guitar in his white sheets, and he can't bring himself to kick the guy out. It's already morning, anyways, and everyone will think he's sleeping in his own room. Since his bandmates sleep until 1pm anyways, and Toki's going to be passed out until at least dinnertime, Skwisgaar puts in some headphones, and he listens to the cassette.

This is when he gets his answer to his earlier question. It's too late to wonder if being friends, enemies, coworkers, and lovers would mess things up. Everything about their friendship, about their band, about Skwisgaar and Toki, is completely f*cked. He knew during the concert they played earlier, during dinner a week ago, and during their first tour in Chicago.

This, he thinks, a dreadful and terrifying feeling settling into his heart as Toki's guitar playing echoes through him, is love.

Present Day

Charles Ofdenson is a perfectionist. He is not doing his job at maximum efficiency - he knows this, and he hates himself for it. However, he still has time to make things for his band right, even if it makes putting his own plans on hold.He is well aware that being Dethklok’s manager requires him to make sacrifices. When the band says jump, Charles needs to already be three feet in the air. They don’t make it easy on him - but it’s the greatest work he knows he’ll ever do. That’s why he came back from his Black Klok duties, when the band rescued Toki and realized there was something seriously wrong with him. As much as Charles wanted to stay and take on the church, he knew his boys wouldn't get through this without him.

Charles is aware he couldn’t shepherd them forever, but...well, they’d always be more than just clients. They didn’t handle things well without him, and he knew that there was no way they’d be able to deal with Toki’s serious medical issues alone. They need him to be there - and they need him to help get the band back on track. Even though he felt like he was failing miserably, he’d still fight tooth and nail for them at the end of the day.

Toki’s bleeding out of his eyes and can’t remember anything, and Charles and his medical team still can’t figure it out. But unlike the last time he failed the band, it wasn't just Toki who needed him anymore. Skwisgaar is teetering on the edge of an actual nervous breakdown, clearly itching for drugs to stop feeling things again. Pickles is an anxious mess and has been popping pills so much that Charles is refilling his large prescription weekly, because he doesn’t know what else to do. Nathan is about to snap over the fact that his band hasn’t done anything new in a year. And Murderface...is just a dick.They’re all dicks, honestly, but they’re his dicks, and he refuses to fail them again. This in mind, he talks to a Gibson representative idly on his Dethphone as he watches the boys get fitted for their gala suits.

“Fuuuuuck this,” Nathan groans as he stands with his arms out, a Klokateer taking his measurements. He throws his head back, yelling, “I don’t wanna go to this stupid f*cking gala!”

“Yeeah Charles, we’re a metal band! It's unnatural for us to try and act like we're fanceey,” Pickles grumps, raising an eyebrow with a blunt hanging out of his mouth as a Klokateer measures his inseam. “Wooahh, watch it buddy! Gettin’ a little close to my dick there.”

“Excuse me,” Charles says into his Dethphone, turning to the boys with a hand over the receiver. “This is incredibly important for the band that we attend this gala. I know you don’t like suit fittings, but we need to look our best.”

“Well, I’m not doing it!” Murderface crosses his arms, sucking in his stomach as a Klokateer struggles with his cumme*rbund. “You can’t juscht parade us around like f*cking handschome schow poniesch!”

“If we ams the handsomes ponies, that woulds makes yous the ass,” Skwisgaar says airily. "Gets it? Because you ams not handsomes."

“f*ck you, Skwisgaar!” Murderface hisses, as Nathan and Pickles chuckle at his expense in the background. “I could schtill get more chicks than you, you beautiful piece of schit!”

“I haves already provens that it ams imposkibles for you to beats me in thats deparkments.” The blonde lifts his chin as a Klokateer works on his tie. As Murderface and Skwisgaar bicker back and forth, Nathan and Pickles amusedly throwing in their own comments, Charles realizes one voice is missing. Toki had been gone for so long that it was almost easy to forget him - but when the manager looks at him, well. It’s definitely not surprising.

Charles had read an article about how while an amnesiac may not recall an actual memory, their previous learned feelings haven’t gone away. Some of this theory must be true. Skwisgaar’s white suit is basically done, and he does admittedly look quite chiseled and handsome and whatnot. Toki, wearing an all black ensemble, is staring at him with the gooey-eyed longing that Charles has noticed between the two of them for the past decade. It’s like the brunette can’t look away, and it couldn’t be more obvious if his tongue was out of his mouth. How the rest of them don’t realize these things is beyond him.

Charles has always been a perceptive person. And if there's something going on with his band, he needs to be the first to know. Over the years, he's seen the stolen glances between Toki and Skwisgaar when they think no one's looking, he's seen them try to sneak out of each other's rooms, he's seen them lock hands underneath the table during meetings. The two of them clearly were in love, and that realization was what caused the huge fight a few years ago, where Toki almost quit the band for good. And now, in the present, Skwisgaar obviously still loves Toki with a hopeless desperation...but Charles is quite sure that Skwisgaar is aware he might never be able to get the brunette back if Toki never remembers. If that's the case, Dethklok might not make it out of this as a unified band.

“—And that brings me back to my original point - f*ck this gala,” Nathan’s voice rumbles in Charles’ ear, snapping his attention back to the boys. “Let’s just f*cking get out of here. If we don’t have suits...Charles won’t make us go, right?”

“Look,” the manager says quickly, because the band will do anything Nathan says and he’s really not up for a suit mutiny right now. “If you boys make it through these fittings, I’ll make it up to you.”

“HOW? You’re f*cking traumatizing us by making usch do thisch!” Murderface demands, then looks at Pickles before he points to Charles. “The only way to make it better...isch to do drugsch with us! Yeah!”

He pauses, staring at Dethklok and pinching his temples. The things he’d do for this band. All the band members’ eyes brighten as he asks, “....What kind did you, ah...have in mind?”

“Oooh! Oooh!” Pickles nearly falls on top of the Klokateer measuring him in excitement, “Acid! We gotta do f*ckin’ acid! Acid with Charles!”

“f*ck. That’d be...awesome,” Nathan agrees, but he looks worried as he eyes Skwisgaar. “But what about, uh. You know.” He whispers loudly, “Skwisgaar can’t do like, drugs and sh*t anymore. He's all lame now because he OD'd, remember?"

Skwisgaar’s eyes narrow harshly, hand on his hip. “I ams rights here's Nathans."

“Yeah, well, it’s true,” Nathan says, crossing his arms in the tight-fitting suit, and Pickles nearly chokes on his blunt. God, this band. “Plus, you’re scary on acid.”

The blonde rolls his eyes in irritation, “You ams just babies.”

“You're a total acid bitch,” Murderface agrees with the frontman instantly. “God, remember Portugal? That wasch when Skwischgaar f*cked that whole party boat of bitchesch, wasn’t it? And he ran off the boat and—“

“Gods, Moiderface, just shuts up.” Skwisgaar huffs, giving them another hard eye roll. Meanwhile, Toki’s face falls a little bit. Since Toki has forgotten how Skwisgaar is with women, he must not remember the fact that he has no need to be jealous. The lead guitarist doesn’t even notice, continuing, “You ams just jealous because nobodies on the whole boats wanteds to f*cks yous.”

“Scho,” Murderface hisses, holding up a hand in front of Skwisgaar’s face. “Picklesch, you got enough acid for everyone minus Skwisgaar? Y’know? Cuz he’s too much of a pusschey for drugsch now?”

“Alright,” Charles feels like he let that go on for way too long without stopping it. “I’m not sure if it’s a good idea for Toki to do, ah, acid. His brain is still pretty sensitive, I’d imagine.”

“An acid trip with a fried brain...” Pickles rubs his chin. “Hanestly, trippin’ balls might be awesome for ‘im. Or hey! What if it brings something back? We gotta do it, Charles! For the sake of medical...observation!”

Charles glances between them, trying to look uninterested, “Well. If it’s for a scientific medical benefit, then...”

“Hoooly sh*t,” Nathan laughs, smirking at his manager. “Charles is gonna get f*ckin’ sloppy with us again.”

He rolls his eyes fondly. He does have to admit, he’s had a good time whenever he allows himself to get “sloppy” with the boys. Skwisgaar looks like he’s about to throw a diva tantrum, hissing, “But if everybodies else ams doings its—!”

“I’m afraid you can’t, ah, participate, Skwisgaar. We can’t have you falling off the wagon while things are so hectic.” Charles glances past the blonde, who looks like he’s about to explode, and raises an eyebrow at Toki. “You, ah, in for an acid trip?”

Skwisgaar is angrily pulling his hair into a ponytail, then dropping it loose and shaking it out. This means, of course, that Toki’s back to staring at him, chin in his palm and the hearts practically circling his head. Charles tries again, clearing his throat, “Toki. Acid, are you in or out?”

“Whuts?” The brunette blinks, looking away from Skwisgaar. “Oh wowee, I donts knows...I’ve nevers done anythings like that befores—“

“Yeah you have, dude!” Pickles grins crookedly at him, “We were there, remember? Er, you don't remember, but...you spent your early twenties as a f*ckin' Dethklak rahckstar. Trust me, you've prahbably spent more time f*cked up than sober in the last ten years.”

“Wowee,” Toki says, in awe of himself. “I didn'ts ikmagines I was sos wilds..."

Skwisgaar’s face reddens and he quickly looks away from the brunette, fingers combing through his own blonde hair nervously. He turns on his "irritated and impatient" go-to expression, looking at Charles, “Look, Toki shoulds not be doingks acids. Whats if he has a bads trips, and—“

“Aw, comes on, Skwisgaar! I wannas trip the balls!” he says excitedly. "What if I remembers somethins?"

The mere idea of Toki remembering something is all the guitarist needs to cross his arms, huff out a sigh, and wave a hand as the rest of the band grins in victory. It's an unspoken agreement that Skwisgaar gets to approve all medical decisions for Toki - mostly just because nobody wanted to deal with his hissy fits otherwise. The blonde looks away in irritation, "But it ams still not fairs."

“I'll make it up to you too, Skwisgaar. Some other time. And we're not doing acid until after this suit fitting. Those are the rules, remember?” Charles says firmly, and the boys all stand up straight and quiet for the rest of the fitting. Even though he’s never really been one to...indulge in drugs, he’d do it for the band. And in all honestly, it’s been quite a while since he’s got to have a good time with his boys. They all deserve it.

“Pickles. May I speak to you?” Charles says, and the drummer stomps out his joint underneath his foot as he strides over.

“Yeah, I wanted to talk to ya too. Bout my medicine,” Pickles crosses his arms, voice hushed. His eyes narrow conspiratorially, “I think someone’s stealin’ it from me.”

Well. This definitely isn’t how Nathan saw his night going, but f*ck, he isn’t complaining. He loved partying almost as much as he loved being metal, and he couldn't remember the last time Dethklok got to let loose. All their lives have been for the past year was kidnappings, overdoses, comas, and amnesia...f*ck, that's depressing. No wonder why Skwisgaar got so carried away with it before. Nathan knew he wouldn’t be able to quit like the blonde was forced to - and he wasn't ashamed of that, because drugs are awesome. And the partying tonight was needed - even Charles was completely f*cked, for gods sake. That’s when you know it’s bad.

The five of them, plus Dick Knubbler - he said if they’d let him come, he’d shoot heroin into his balls in front of everybody, so nobody could turn that down - ended up partying hard. They were all wasted (besides Skwisgaar, who ended up having to play the role of Toki’s sober babysitter), and completely tripped-out on acid...amongst various other drugs that their drummer had plucked out of his top drawer and decided to bring along. Charles is laying on top of the kitchen bar counter, Pickles holding a funnel in his mouth as Murderface pours a bottle of tequila in. Knubbler brought a gaggle of random chicks with him (whom Charles made sign NDA’s on entrance, because only a select few were allowed to see the manager sky high), one on each thigh as he snorts co*ke off their tit*.

"Oh wowee,” Toki throws his arms around Skwisgaar’s neck, voice a slurred giggle as his messy hair falls in his eyes. “You ams sos pretties, Skwisgaar, like a f*ckins beautiful...beautifuls piano god...”

“You means guitar?” Skwisgaar raises an eyebrow, face flushed. He’s clearly trying his damn hardest to keep it together as Toki leans all over him - honestly Nathan was kind of impressed that Toki’s ability to binge stayed with him. Not that he’d ever admit it, but it so f*cking good to see him smiling and having fun and not bleeding out of his orifices and scratching out his own throat. And seeing the way that Drunk Toki got Skwisgaar all flustered, just like old times, was an added bonus - the blonde always got like that when the brunette drank, because Toki’s just a really handsy drunk. Said rhythm guitarist laughs loudly at nothing and grabs the sides of Skwisgaar's face, planting a sloppy kiss on the blonde's cheek, and he nearly has a heart attack, “G-Gives me some space, Toki. My gods!"

“Wooooahhhh, look at f*ckin’ Charles knock ‘em back!” Pickles cheers, as Murderface eagerly finishes pouring the bottle and smashes it on the floor.

“I ah, told you guys I can, ah, get sloppy,” Charles flashes a grin, glasses lost somewhere and hair completely disheveled. Everyone cheers, and even Nathan claps - for the first time in so long, he’s finally feeling good. Wasted, but good.

Or at least, he was feeling good. Nathan’s vision blurs and spins with wild colors, and then time skips and when he comes back to reality Pickles is holding a smoking joint in one hand and a handful of ass in the other as he makes out with one of the girls Knubbler brought.Nathan’s face scrunches up in his trademark scowl. What the hell. Was Pickles really just going to...do that, in front of everyone? Nobody wanted to see that sh*t. They should get a room or something, but then, that’s all Nathan would be able to think about when they had their...sleepover things. God, is Pickles going to get laid? Why does the idea fill him with an irritated, unforgiving blackness?

“You ams alrights, Nathans?” Skwisgaar asks, right hand on Nathan’s shoulder and Toki hanging off his left, and the frontman nearly jumps in surprise.

“Uh, yeah,” he snaps, trying to keep himself steady as he chugs whatever bottle’s in his hand. “Why wouldn’t I be alright? Just because....because Pickles is gonna get laid? Why would...why do I CARE?”

“Eugh...? Why woulds you care?” Skwisgaar raises an eyebrow, eyeing Pickles as he holds his blunt up to the girls’ mouth and grins when she takes a hit. “It ams just floozies.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t care,” Nathan slurs, borderline falling into his death metal voice. “I just think it’s f*cking stupid that Pickles thinks, y’know, that—“

Toki nearly falls backwards, pushing away from Skwisgaar and falling into another one of Knubbler’s girls. “Pickle haves the rights ideas! I bet yous wants to gives the kisses to Toki," He grins at her, and she giggles and smiles back as the brunette leans in.

"Alrights, Toki, calms downs," Skwisgaar glares and quickly intercepts, nearly knocking Toki onto the ground as he cuts between the two of them. "You wants to goes in the hot tubs, ja?"

"Ja!" Toki exclaims, grabbing the bottom of his shirt and almost ripping it off. It's been a long time since Nathan saw Toki's infuriatingly perfect abs, but Skwisgaar's eyes suddenly look similar to how Pickles' do sometimes - like he has PTSD and he's about to f*ckin' lose it - as he grabs Toki's hands and keeps him from taking off his shirt. Toki sways where he stands, his eyes meeting Skwisgaar's, and some of his drunken happiness drains away. "Oh. Rights, I...forgots."

"It ams okays," Skwisgaar's breath is stuttery as he slowly takes his hands off of Toki's. “We can comes back laters.”

What the hell was that about? Nathan’s too f*cked to really care, as he leans against the bar and glares as he bitterly watches the girl grind on Pickles to the beat of the music. Maybe he’s just pissed because he knows Pickles can get a better lay. Right? That makes sense, he—

“Heeeyy ba-babayyy!” A loud voice yells in Nathan’s ear, and f*ck, he was not in any f*cking condition to deal with this clown tonight. With Toki being in the coma and not remembering his friends, they had hoped they could just...never mention Dr. Roscko again and hope that it would be a part of Toki that he’d never remember. Unfortunately, this didn’t seem to be the case.

“f*ck. Who invited this guy?” Nathan hisses at the bar full of people, shoving Rockso away. “I f*cking hate this clown.”

"I saw hims in my phone contacts! He lookeds like he'd makes me laughs!" Toki giggles, now on the floor and vomit dripping down his chin.

“You c-c-c-thought you could get rid of Dr. Roscko, huh?” Roscko slings an arm around Nathan, “Well what’s a party….without C-C-C-COCAINE!”

“Oh,” Charles covers his mouth with a hand, sliding off the bar and joining Toki on the ground. “Oh, yes. Where, ah...did I hear co*ke?”

“Oh my gods,” Skwisgaar breathes in through his teeth, “You guys cant’s just dos co*kes in fronts of me a-and tells me I cant’s haves it!”

“Relaaaax, babe,” Knubbler bounces one of the girls sitting on his thigh. “There’s enough co*ke to go around, right?”

“Skwisgaar isn’t allowed to do drugsch!” Murderface yells, holding up his palm as he nearly falls over drunkenly, “ Schee! Charlesch spechifically made usch write it on our handsch so we’d remember when we get totally f*cked!”

“Oh,” Charles looks down at his own hand, where ‘do not let Skwisgaar have drugs’ is written in black marker. “I can’t, ah, go against the word of...myself. Sorry, Skwisgaar.”

Nathan decides to stop paying attention to...whatever that was, that he was listening to - instead trying to find where his drummer went. Is he still with that girl? Who even allowed Dick to bring them in the first place? He finally spots Pickles just as the nervous anger in the pit of his stomach starts to flare up, swaying on his feet as he finally detaches himself from the girl in his arms.

“See ya later, honey,” Pickles grins crookedly at her, shooing her away as he stumbles over to the bar and grabs another drink. He spots Nathan across the bar, and his eyes light up as he waves sloppily, “Hey! Nate! You havin’ a good time, big guy?”

“It’s whatever,” Nathan grumbles, f*cked up and pissed off as he sloppily pours himself a shot.

The redhead is still yelling at him across the bar, pointing to where their manager is sprawled out on the floor not five feet away, “Fuuuuuck, dood! Did you...did you see f*ckin’ Charlie? He’s f*ckin’ sloppy, dude! U shoulda heard him, he was....he was like—“

“Where’d that, uh, girl...go?” Nathan blurts, downing the shot and instantly pouring himself another.

Pickles raises a studded eyebrow, each eye blinking in different intervals, “Haaaah? What girl?”

“The one you were...y’know. Makin’ out with. Just like, a second ago,” Nathan grumbles, and he's too drunk to even pretend like he's not angry. The oozing colors in his vision dance across Pickles’ face, his friend looking drunk and confused and damn, he must’ve already forgot about the girl he had just been intensely kissing moments ago.

“Uh, I don't know what yer talkin' bout, but--! Oh yeah! Nate, open up, dude,” Pickles says excitedly, and Nathan feels his face catch on fire.

“What?”

“Open yer f*ckin’ mouth!”

Nathan’s eyes dart around before he drops his jaw, and he has no idea what Pickles is going to put in it, and oh god, what if it’s his dick? Nathan starts to have an existential crisis, because for some reason, that doesn’t even seem...that bad, right now, and--

Pickles sticks a tab of acid on his tongue, nearly falling over as he reaches across the bar. Oh. That wasn’t that bad, and suddenly, Nathan feels even dumber than usual. Was he really about to just open his mouth and accept the fact that he was going to suck a dick in front of everyone? What the actual f*ck? Is this what a gay crisis feels like?

“I’m way too f*cked up,” Nathan holds the sides of his head, vision spinning and blurring as he looks at Pickles. “Pickles, help, I’m--”

“Woah, woah,” Pickles hops over the bar, hands on Nathan’s shoulders. “Just cahhlm down, Nate. Sahrry, I didn’t know you were havin’ a bad trip, I wouldn’t have given ya another tab otherwise.”

“It’s...not a bad trip, it’s just…” Nathan trails off, trying to push his dark hair out of his eyes. He stares into his drummer's infuriatingly attractive face, and feels his cheeks flush violently. “f*ck. I’m f*cked. I need some weed, to like. Cancel all this other stuff out.”

“Well, I gotcha there,” Pickles grins, holding up an almost-gone joint. “Wanna share it?”

“Uh. I guess,” Nathan’s face is on fire again, and mother of god, it’s not gay if they’re both drunk, right? He’s heard that somewhere before, so he sticks to it, and he’s just too messed up to care. Pickles grins crookedly at him, and damn it, it shouldn’t be so cute - Nathan hates the fact that his brain even registers ‘cute’ as a word, but lately, that’s all he can associate with Pickles. When he’s sleeping and he makes these weird little puppy noises, when he gets drunk and his nose and cheeks get all splotchy-red, when he’s eating cereal in the morning and he gets milk all in his beard, and--

“f*ck,” Nathan breathes, watching Pickles spark it up and then inhale deeply. The drummer’s green eyes meet his for just a second, and then his hands are on either side of Nathan’s face and Pickles’ lips meet his and he shotguns the smoke into Nathan’s mouth. The frontman’s drunk acid brain explodes a billion different colors in front of his eyes when their lips meet, and he can’t help it. He makes this weird guttural noise and moves his lips against Pickles’, the drummer’s breath hitching in surprise, and then they’re kissing urgently, with a surprising amount of passion. It doesn’t last long, but then again, Nathan’s so drunk that he has little to no concept of time. Either way, Nathan growls like a f*cking animal and bites Pickles’ bottom lip, and that seems to shock them both back to reality.

Pickles makes a noise of surprise, pulling away quickly, and his pale complexion is absolutely red, “Woah, Nate.”

Nathan blows the smoke out of his mouth, shoulders heaving as he tries to catch his breath and stop everything from spinning, “f*ck. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sahrry.” Pickles winks at him sloppily, one of the dreads on the top of his head falling to the side, “I like that sh*t.”

Nathan feels like he’s literally going to die. He looks around - did anyone see that? Or was everyone too drunk to care? He spots Skwisgaar, and he clings to that, hoping Toki’s drunk antics have been serving as a distraction from Nathan shamelessly making out with f*cking Pickles in the goddamn middle of a party.

“Oh my gods,” Skwisgaar groans, rolling his eyes harshly as he storms behind the bar. “Toki. What ams you doings?”

“I’m doin’s co*kes off the floors!” Toki beams, throwing his arms out as his head lolls to the side. “It ams Charlies’ fault!”

Charles grins, chin in his palm from where he lays on the ground next to Toki. "f*ck. You want some, ah, co*ke, Skwisgaar?"

"Yes, I dos," Skwisgaar hisses, fists clenched. “But yous wont’s lets me haves any!”

Charles looks down at his hand again, nose covered in white, “Oh. Yes. You’re right. According to me, you’re--”

“Waits,” Toki gasps, pushing himself off the ground on white-coated palms, “Do yous hears that?”

They all pause. Murderface is playing Skwisgaar’s guitar, trying to impress one of the girls (who looks pretty disinterested already). “Yeeeahhh. I can actually play thisch thing better than Skwischgaar...yknow. They asked me to be lead guitarist but I turned ‘em down, becausech the bassch just callsch to me—“

“Puts downs my guitar, Moiderface! You plays the bass and you ams too stupids to operates a real insktruments,” Skwisgaar hisses, about to rush over and beat the sh*t out of Murderface for touching his stuff. But then they all look at Toki, and there’s clearly something burning behind his eyes.

“I remembers that sounds,” Toki says, looking up at Skwisgaar with huge, bloodshot eyes. “Why does that sounds so familiars?”

Skwisgaar blinks at him, “Holds on.” He storms over to Murderface, who only puts up a little bit of a hissy fit as the blonde snatches the guitar from him. Skwisgaar quickly starts playing something, fast and sloppy because his fingers are shaking, but Toki’s eyes just keep brightening and brightening.

“Yous ams rememberings?” he asks, looking painfully hopeful, eyes on the brunette and fingers ripping away. “My gods, how’s coulds you evens forgets all the nights where you’d just sits there for hours and liskens to me plays—“

“Who ams…” Toki sits up, suddenly looking sick, the brightness in his eyes snapping away. “Who ams Magnus?”

Skwisgaar’s fingers slip right off the guitar strings with a jarring noise. f*ck, that’s not good. Nathan gets a glance of the absolute heartbreak on his face before everything starts spinning again, the acid tab Pickles gave him kicking in.

“Skwisgaar, dude,” Pickles rushes over because, in what looks like slow motion, Skwisgaar looks like he’s about to crumble into dust, “It’s alright. Somethin’s better’n nothin’, yknow? Come ahn.”

“That ams what he thinks about when he hears me plays?” he sounds like he’s about to vomit, voice thick with horror. “Whats the f*cks. f*ckingks Magnus?”

“I remembers...he asks me who my best friends was when we were pallin around. I tolds him it ams yous,” Toki says with a strange drunken clarity, looking up at the blonde with searching eyes. “Is that whats you ams to mes? My best friends?”

Skwisgaar just stares at him. He looks like he’s blown a f*cking circuit or something, and Pickles can clearly see as much. He holds up a “wait one second” finger to the blonde, who just stands there stiffly, and f*ck, he’s coming over to Nathan.

“I’m gonna get to bed after I deal with Skwisgaar, Nate,” Pickles slurs in his ear, one hand clamping onto Nathan’s shoulder. “‘S’okay if I crash in your room?”

“Yeah, whatever,” he says gruffly, trying to keep the blush off his face because he still can taste Pickles in his mouth. How he’s expected to sleep next to the guy tonight, he has no idea.

“Oh sh*t,” Pickles says, because he left Skwisgaar alone, and now the blonde has stormed over to Toki with a hot, tearful anger in his eyes. “f*ck. Thet ain’t good.”

“You wants to knows what I ams to yous?” Skwisgaar’s voice shakes dangerously, “What does it mattors? I ams nothings to you anymores. You don’t knows me. You don’t remembors anythings about me. Whys am I followingks you arounds like a stupids dild*s when you amnst even Toki anymores?”

Toki wipes the co*ke off his nose, looking upset, “But I saids to Magnus, you ams my best—“

“Don’t f*ckingks says that names to mes!” Skwisgaar’s voice is so loud that now everyone is paying attention, and Nathan knows he should do something to stop this fight but everything’s still spinning and Pickles’ hand is still on his shoulder and he can’t move. The blonde keeps going, teary eyes harshly narrowed, “If you ams still reallies Toki in theres, my playingks would means more to yous than that.”

“Skwisgaar,” Pickles says, leaving Nathan’s side and grabbing the blonde. “Come ahn. Let’s go for a walk, hah?”

"Don't touches me," Skwisgaar jumps away from Pickles like a wild animal, and he's shaking violently as he tries to get it together. Nathan can see the blonde is struggling not to throw a tantrum, struggling not to fall apart, struggling not to drop to his knees and snort all the co*ke off the floor. He just looks...so f*cking sick of trying to be strong.

"Hey," Nathan hears himself say, trying to stand up on unsteady feet as the world spins violently around him. "Hey, it's okay..."

"It ams not," Skwisgaar's voice is fiery, his bottom lip wobbling so uncontrollably that the blonde bites down on it. He glances at them all with his signature look of disgust, "Have funs with your f*ckingks drugs."

And then he's storming off, footsteps loud and fast. Pickles shakes his head, stumbling as he walks back over to the bar. He downs several shots in a row, still looking at the doorway worriedly, "Should we, yknow, go aefter 'im?"

"I don't think we are in, ah, any condition to..." Charles trails off, head lolling. "However, I'm proud of him for not, ah, indulging. Unfortunately, I can't be proud of myself in that department. I'm, ah, f*cked up."

Nathan chuckles half-hysterically. Charles isf*cked, and it's always hilarious to see their manager get so...stupid. But Nathan's thoughts are sidetracked as he looks at Toki, who's sitting desolately on the floor in a pile of cocaine.

“I’m sorries,” Toki says, looking at Nathan worriedly through red-rimmed eyes. “What dids I dos?”

“You f*cked up, buddy,” Murderface slings an arm around Toki, helping him up off the ground in a weirdly, uncharacteristically nice way, “You don’t schay ‘Magnusch’ around Skwischgaar. He losesch his schit. Nothin’s more important to that guy than hisch music, and you juscht tied it to the thing he hatesch the f*cking moscht."

“Yeah, you. Uh. f*cked up for sure. But it’s fine,” Nathan says, slinging an arm around a horrified-looking Toki as well. “Not to be like, gay or anything. But Skwisgaar loves you too much to, uh. Give up on you, or whatever.”

“I didnst knows...the Magnus guy just seemed like a cool father friend...” Toki frowns, looking at Nathan worriedly. “Skwisgaar ams always sos nices to me, I didnst means to—“

“HA!” Murderface pats Toki’s cheek. “Oh, schweet, schoft brain Toki. You have schoooo much to learn about Skwischgaar. Don't feel bad for that dickhe*d, he's done way worsch.”

“Maybe just, y’know. Do something nice for him,” Nathan suggests in a grumble, “Like give him some drugs or something. I dunno.”

“He can’t have drusch!” Murderface waves his palm in the air. He sighs, patting Toki's shoulder, “Toki, just...look into your heart. What do you feel for Skwischgaar? Burning hatred? You wanna call him a schtupid Swedish dild* licker juscht like old timesch?”

“Nos!” Toki says instantly, stoned eyes wide. He puts a hand over his heart, “I donts knows whys, but...I feels like he ams more than my best friends.”

Nathan raises an eyebrow.“What? Like, a best-best friend?”

“Nos! Like you and Pickle. You knows. Earliers, when you guys—“

Nathan slaps a giant palm over Toki’s mouth before he can say it. Murderface, luckily, is too drunk to really question anything, now focused on writing some Planet Piss lyrics (which read: piss piss piss piss) underneath the marker Charles wrote on his hand.Well, Toki must’ve seen them kiss. And, he...thinks that he and Skwisgaar were like that? There’s no way. They couldn’t have kept that from the band. Nathan shakes it off, sighing as he lowers his hand. Nathan looks at the scene around him - usually, he loves to party. But just like everything else, it feels f*cking wrong. Because they're not really Dethklok without Toki, and without Toki, they don't have Skwisgaar.

"C-C-C Hey there again, baby!" Dr. Rockso grabs Nathan's hands, pulling him to his feet with an unexpected strength. "I've gotta c-c-c-talk to you."

"Ugh," Nathan groans, colors ebbing and flowing in front of his vision, and why can't he just trip in peace? Dr. Roscko leads him to the end of the bar, a good distance away from where Pickles and Knubbler are sitting. He raises an eyebrow, "What the f*ck do you want."

The drug-fueled smile on the clown's face instantly drops into a look of...concern. Nathan's eyebrows raise in surprise, and Roscko whispers, "Have you noticed that T-T-T-Toki is...different?"

"Well, yeah," Nathan says gruffly. "He doesn't know who the f*ck anybody is. Including himself. So...yeah. All the sh*t that like, makes him Toki isn't...there anymore."

"Not just that, b-baby," Rockso wipes at the white dripping from his clown nose nervously. "If C-C-C-Magnus did this, he really did a number on him. Something isn't c-c-c-right..."

Nathan squints uneasily, "If Magnus did this? Who the f*ck else could it have been?"

"I don't know, big guy. All Dr. Rockso is sayin' is, keep your eyes c-c-c-open." Roscko's voice lowers, "I'm worried ab-b-b-bout the little guy. Don't f*ckin' tell anyone that, or I'll k-k-k-kill you."

Nathan sighs, pinching his temples. "I'm worried about him, too. Which is so f*cking not metal."

"You know, that Skwisgaar guy treated him like f*ckin' sh*t when they were t-t-t-together. Takin' him for granted..." Roscko says bitterly. "Now he's off c-c-c-cryin', since Toki's the only one crazy enough to p-p-put up with his sh*t."

"Together?" Nathan co*cks an eyebrow. "Like...as best-best friends?"

Roscko looks at Nathan. His eyes bounce back and forth, a grin cracking on his face, and he gets up from his stool. He ignores Nathan's question entirely, holding up a baggie, "Want some c-c-c-cocaine, Tontooo?"

Nathan glances back at his band - or what's left of them, at least. Pickles has fallen out of his barstool, passed out on the ground. Murderface is snorting something off of Toki's abs, screaming about how it's not gay if they're both drunk. Oh. So maybethat's where Nathan heard that, and if he heard it from Murderface...oh god. That guy's like, the gayest person Nathan knows.

“God,” Charles says, stumbling over to where Nathan and Roscko sit. “This, ah. This band is f*cked, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Nathan replies, chin in his palm. “It is."

Chapter 6: the golden rule

Chapter Text

4.5 years ago...

Skwisgaar has a memory, of the day he thought he learned what love was supposed to be. He’s twelve, and his mother had been dating this f*cking Dutch guy. They had been going out for a little over a month, which seemed like several eternities for someone Servetta was dating, and she was making breakfast. The Dutch guy was snoring away upstairs in his mom’s room, as Skwisgaar tried to pluck at his unplugged guitar hard enough to drown out the noise. This guy treated his mom like sh*t. Breaking things, yelling, grabbing. Skwisgaar watched it all, fingers picking at his guitar strings until they bled. As his mom made breakfast for the three of them that she’d probably get spat on over, and as she quietly talked on the phone to one of her other thousand male “friends,” Skwisgaar hears her say it.

“Oh, ja, Skwisgaar ams so exciteds to haves a new daddys. We ams the veries in loves.”

Skwisgaar didn't even know this guy's name. His mother went out that same day with someone else, then came back to the Dutch guy still snoring in her room, and he didn’t make it another week before his mom had totally forgotten about him. That’s the only reference to love that Skwisgaar has ever had, and maybe that’s why it terrifies him so much. He didn’t understand it back then, and he doesn’t want to have anything to do with it now. He was so, so embarrassed by his mother’s promiscuity growing up - he had vowed he’d never be like her, and yet, here he was, not only living up to her reputation, but surpassing it. If he was resigned to the fact that he had to be like her, he at least could prevent these things before they even happen. He didn’t want love, if that was what it was like.

So when Toki finally says it to him, he feels like a rubber band that he’s been stretching out for the past year finally snaps.

They had been riding cross-country in their tour bus all day - it was almost Christmas, and the snow was floating down in glimmering white clumps. The Klokateers had to stop the massive bus to refuel, and while the rest of the guys were palling around inside, the two of them said they were going to take a piss so they could finally get alone time together. It was almost torture, having to sit together in the bus for so many painful hours and act like they were just regular friends. Skwisgaar’s fingers were itching to grab Toki - his face, his hair, his hands - and he could see the brunette looking at him with longing puppy eyes all day. The moment they finally snuck off the bus, Skwisgaar expected Toki to shove him against the side of the vehicle and kiss him with his trademark burning passion. Instead, Toki sighs in relief and hugs him.

“Woahs,” Skwisgaar raises an eyebrow, nose red from the cold and voice dripping in fondness. “What ams with the huggingks?”

“I misseds yous,” Toki smiles against Skwisgaar’s chest, and Skwisgaar feels his own cheeks warm. It’s not uncommon for Toki to be needy and affectionate, and that stopped scaring him a while ago. They’ve been sneaking around like this for almost a year and a half now - Skwisgaar has no idea how they’ve managed to keep it up, or how they’ve managed to dance around the issue of ever talking about their feelings. It’s never been brought up once - not when Toki gets sickeningly drunk specifically on nights where Skwisgaar has groupies in his room, not when Skwisgaar finds himself holding Toki’s hand whenever the band isn’t looking, and not when the kisses between the two of them get more and more emotional every day. Skwisgaar figured as long as they don’t talk about it, it doesn’t have to be a problem. They can ignore it, repress it, push it away, and they’ll be fine. It’s worked so far, right?

Skwisgaar rolls his eyes, hugging Toki back with his lanky arms. “Comes on. It was onlies one days. Then tomorrows we gets to palls arounds the cities, ja?” He grins charmingly at the brunette, “And nots to spoils the surprikse, but maybes I even gots mes and my favorites little dild*s two tickets to sees Metallikas...”

“Wowee!” Toki’s eyes sparkly excitedly, pulling away to grab Skwisgaar by the shoulders. “You reallies planned thats for us?”

“Sees? I ams not sos means afters all,” Skwisgaar chuckles, and his heart pounds at the star struck expression on Toki’s face.

“You ams still means,” Toki teases, kissing him on the tip of his nose. “And you ams still a stupids Swedish dild*. But I’ms in loves with yous anyways.”

He was smiling at Toki with a gooey fondness, and then, suddenly, the smile is wiped straight off his face. Skwisgaar’s entire world shatters around him as his breath catches in his throat with a strangled noise. Toki instantly tenses in his arms, looking up at Skwisgaar with terrified eyes, “Skwisgaar. Donts freaks out. I-I...I didnst means it, okays?”

Skwisgaar is completely stiff as Toki hugs him harder, and he suddenly feels like a caged animal as he breathes, “Cans you lets goes of mes.”

“Nos!” Toki’s voice is shaking, “I-If I lets you goes, you ams goingks to freaks out! I saids I didnts means it!”

“Toki,” Skwisgaar’s voice is hard, panicked, and Toki lets go as if the blonde had burned him. He steps back, and Skwisgaar just stares at him, watching the snowflakes get caught in the black abyss of his long eyelashes. He shakes his head, breathing unevenly, “I-I’m goingks back on the bus.”

“Skwisgaar,” Toki’s voice is desperately pleading. “It was ams accidenkts!”

Skwisgaar just stares at him, unable to say anything. Even if he’s known that Toki loves him for quite some time - hearing it outloud changed everything. They couldn’t ignore it anymore - they couldn’t pretend nothing had changed between them. Because it had - Toki was in love with him, and by god, Skwisgaar is going to have to respond in some way. This could make or break their friendship, make or break Dethklok. This has happened to not only half of the many bands Skwisgaar has been in, but to Dethklok itself. One bandmate who couldn't control his feelings for another bandmate ended up having to be replaced with Toki. How fitting for history to repeat itself. Maybe Toki and Magnus weren't too different, after all.

“Toki,” Skwisgaar says carefully, slowly, so Toki will really listen to him. “Once I gets back on the bus, this conkvorsatioms nevors happeneds. You didn’t tells me anythingks. Gots it?”

Toki stares at him, eyes huge, and the brunette looks like he's about to crumble into dust. Skwisgaar exhales through his nose, eyes squeezed shut, before he turns around.

"You ams...not goins to say anything?" Toki's voice sounds so fragile, and Skwisgaar feels his own heart crack straight down the middle. Skwisgaar sucks in a breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he walks back onto the bus, and Toki doesn’t try to stop him. The brunette boards several minutes after Skwisgaar, and he...doesn’t look so good. Like maybe he threw up outside, and the thought alone makes Skwisgaar feel nauseous as well. He didn’t want to hurt Toki and he didn’t want to love him either - but he was doing both. He knew it and he hated himself for it, and if he had to pick between the two, he needed to do what was best for Dethklok.

They sit there, the other members of the band laughing and having a good time, and it’s like that one moment outside changed everything. Toki is trying hard not to look at him, not to sit by him like he usually does. They don’t joke or laugh or talk to each other for the rest of the day. Skwisgaar lays there, and he waits for Toki to sneak into his room on the bus, and he never does. Skwisgaar has no idea what to do, so he does nothing. And it’s the biggest mistake he could’ve made.

A week passes, and the seven days since have been a living f*cking nightmare for Skwisgaar. Toki has been ignoring him. Skwisgaar waits every night for the brunette to sneak into his room, but he never comes by. Skwisgaar walks to Toki’s door more times than he’d care to admit, but he can never bring himself to knock. He’d stand there, fist raised as thinks about the way Toki stared at him outside of the tour bus with heartbreak burning in his eyes, and Skwisgaar loses his nerve every time.

After having Toki be his shadow every day for five years, Skwisgaar feels...empty. Alone, and he absolutely hates it.Toki doesn’t sit by him anymore. He doesn’t look at him anymore, he doesn’t put his hand on Skwisgaar’s knee under the table during band meetings, he doesn’t try and make excuses so the two of them can rush off and get a moment alone. The only time Skwisgaar ever sees the brunette is during work-related things, and even in the studio Toki barely says a word to him unless he absolutely has to. The rest of the time Toki’s hanging out with f*cking Dr. Roscko, clearly on a depression-fueled bender. Skwisgaar watched in horror the other night, as Nathan had to drag Toki’s wasted ass into the shower, covered in puke and tears rolling down his face. When he tried to sneak into the bathroom to talk to Toki, the guitarist was face down, snoring and fully-clothed as the water poured on him.

It was the longest and most guilt-fueled week of Skwisgaar’s entire f*cking life. He needed to get things back to normal, and he has his chance, when finally, the door to his room creaks open. Skwisgaar’s heart leaps straight into his throat as Toki steps into the room like he’s never been inside of it before. It takes everything in him to stay planted on the bed, fingerpicking his guitar at lightning speed as he tries to break the ice. “Wells wells wells, if it amnst the littles tantrums baby. Where haves you beens?” I’ve missed you, he almost says, but stops himself.

Toki’s lips are in that annoyingly cute pout as he stands there uncomfortably. He’s looking at his hands - there’s a thin scar on the back of his right knuckles, that he told Skwisgaar was from a lashing he got in his childhood for being too affectionate. Toki is tracing said scar, steeling himself as he says quietly, “I did means it. I loves yous. You can takes it or leaves it.”

Skwisgaar’s entire body tenses, and the fight or flight reaction he felt outside the tour bus hits him full force. His voice comes out warningly, “Toki, this is exactallies what we said wouldn’st happens...”

“But whys nots,” Toki stresses, and he’s looking at Skwisgaar with those big f*cking eyes, and the blonde’s head swims and he feels like he’s going to be sick. “I knows what I’m sayings, Skwisgaar. I wants to bes with you, and I knows you wants me toos.”

“You amst thinkings of the band . What happens if it amnst workings out with us? This stupids sappies stuff always gets in the ways!”

“But it will work outs!” Toki exclaims in frustration. “I tolds you, that ams dumb excuse!”

“And whats did I tolds yous when we stardeds this?” Skwisgaar wrings his hands in the air in frustration, off the bed and pacing back and forth. “We canst be mores than this! Don’t acts like I ever went backs on thats!”

“You sures makes me feels like you wants to be togethers.” Toki’s eyes are hot with unshed tears. “What ams I supposed to thinks? All the kissins a-and the ways you looks at me--”

Skwisgaar’s face burns as he looks anywhere but Toki, “How you intorporkted my methods in beds is your problems, Toki.”

“It ams not abouts the you-knows-whats, Skwisgaar!” Toki waves his arms. “You cants act like you loves me and then tells me you f*ckins don’t wants to bes with me! It just hurts too f*ckins much to act like I havents felt this way for so longs…”

“Toki. This was your ideas,” Skiwsgaar’s voice is dripping with anger. “You saids, ‘oh, Skwisgaar, I wants to makes out with yous so cans we bes the benefits friends?’ You saids that was all you wanteds!”

“I f*ckins lied!” Toki yells, Skwisgaar’s nostrils flaring as he tries and fails to push his own emotions down. “I know that all ams scarins you, because you’ve nevers been in loves befores, but it’s okays! I’ve never saids it before eithers, in the romantickals way--”

“My gods, stops sayingks it!” Skwisgaar clutches at his own blonde head, face burning. “The f*cking band comes forst. Does you understands? We can’t be mores, but we haves to gets alongs. We haves to pretends this didn’st happen, and goes back to normals.”

Toki shakes his head, tears dripping down his face, “But what the f*cks ams normals? We...we can’ts just goes back to being friends…”

Skwisgaar’s eyes narrow, “You ams always with the dramatickals. We haves been friends since you were a dumb teenage dild*. Just pretends it was like it was befores.”

Toki puts his head in his hands, making a noise of frustration. “There ams no befores ! I loveds you then toos, you stupid f*ckings Swedish asshole!”

Skwisgaar stands there, blinking at Toki in surprise. Before he can get a word in otherwise, Toki keeps going, “I’m f*ckins done. This whole thing ams alls a f*ckins mistake, and I’m dones. If you don’ts wants to loves me, then you can f*cks right off.”

He pushes past Skwisgaar, barreling back towards the door, and Skwisgaar feels a wild hysteria build up in him as he grabs Toki’s arm. The brunette whips around to look at him, anger and hurt rolling around in his eyes, and Skwisgaar glares at him, his heart hurting . It burns, it’s crumbling and dying, but he doesn’t let it show on his face. Toki, however, looks like he’s about to fall apart. Skwisgaar’s eyes harden and he points at Toki dangerously, “I ams not lettings you f*ckings breaks up with mes, Toki. There ams womens who woulds kills to be in your poskitions in my lifes. Don’t be f*ckings stupids!”

“How could we breaks up, if we ams onlies friends?” Toki glares bitterly, trying to yank his arm away, but Skwisgaar won’t let go.

“Friends break up. Bands break ups,” Skwisgaar hisses. “Our band has been through this befores! And guess whats happens to the guy who couldn’t controls his feelingks for a bandmate? He got f*ckingks replaced with yous ! And nows you saids you loves me, and you ams goings to hates me either ways!”

“Ja, I do hates you! Lets me goes!” Toki gets tugging at his own arm, and Skwisgaar has no idea what to do. Should he let Toki go? He did that last time, and it resulted in the worst week he’s had in a long time. Oh god, is that going to be his life now? Him and Toki unable to be around each other? He was trying to save the band, but he was still f*cking it up. Toki was right, this wasa mistake - because whether they end things now, or whether they'd give the relationship a chance and break up later on, everything is still f*cked.He’s trying so hard to keep it together, but his voice cracks as he asks desperately, “What does you wants me to say to fix its?”

Toki’s voice is tense, eyes staring into Skwisgaar’s as he grinds out, “Says that you loves me toos.”

Skwisgaar squeezes his eyes shut, feeling like a hysterical caged animal as he looks away, “I-I can’ts.”

“You can’ts,” Toki repeats hollowly.

“Nos, I...I can’ts. Toki, you knows I can’ts,” Skwisgaar says, voice sounding desperate, and he wants to explain to Toki what he’s so afraid, he wants to grab him by the collar and shake him and tell him that they can’t end this, but Toki’s eyes harden and he takes a step back and Skwisgaar knows he’s losing him.

“Then sees you around,” Toki’s eyes are dark, and fiery, as he shoulder-checks Skwisgaar, storming out. The door slams loudly behind him, and Skwisgaar finally doesn’t have to act like he’s strong anymore. He grabs his pillow, screaming into it, and he has a terrible feeling he just f*cked his whole life up in less than ten minutes.

He doesn’t need Toki. He doesn’t love Toki. That Norwegian dild* thinks he can break up with Skwisgaar? He’ll show him.

Present Day - 24 hours before the gala

Even though most of the time, Toki feels like he has absolutely no idea what’s going on, he’s still grateful for the time he gets to spend with Dethklok. Even if he feels out of place, and even though they’re basically strangers to him, he still likes to pretend he’s one of them. He wonders if he felt like he didn’t belong before he lost his memory, too. They just seem like they’d be too cool, too close, for any version of himself to fit in with. But he must be wrong, because they see him as more than their bandmate - they treat him like family, and that’s how they all clearly see each other. Like brothers. Even their manager treats them like he really loves them, and Toki has now idea how he got so lucky. The feeling stirs something inside of Toki, something he feels like is being dangled over his head but too far away to reach.

“You can’t play anymore. You’re useless,” the voice, that’s been getting louder and louder, whispers in his hears. “They’re going to leave you to the wolves, just like they did before.”

“Pay f*cking attenshion, Toki,” Murderface jostles his shoulder, snapping him back to reality. Dethklok is aboard their monstrously big tour bus, traveling up to Maine where they’ll be attending the gala tomorrow. The bus departed at around dinner time, and now the sun is mostly gone as they barrel down the highway. He, Murderface, and Pickles sit behind a laptop at the bar - Nathan nearby in an easy chair, shoveling chips into his mouth as he reads the newspaper - as they google search Toki’s name and try to find something to jog his memory. The room feels...different, without Skwisgaar there. Toki has been wanting to apologize to the blonde for the past couple of days, but unfortunately, Skwisgaar has been pretty elusive lately. The two of them hadn’t talked since a few days ago, when Toki messed up and was tripping on acid and remembered something in the wrong way. Ever since, Skwisgaar has locked himself in his room and then slipped onto the bus without a world (Murderface called it one of the blonde’s “diva tantrums”). It was an unwelcome change, because Toki was...missing something, about Skwisgaar. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it made his heart ache to its core.

Right now, they were looking at a picture of Toki in a pink sparkly shirt, sunglasses, and a bedazzled guitar strap keeping the instrument against his body. It was so...weird, to see himself like that. He was like an entirely different person back then, and a terrible part of him is already resigned to the fact that he’s never going to remember. He wonders if as more time passes, the rest of the guys will resign themselves to that as well.

“Then you’ll be gone,” the voice whispers. “Leave before they make you. They'll break your heart, just like they did before."

“Whys was I dressed like such a dild*?” Toki asks loudly, trying to drown out the voice as a splitting headache travels from temple to temple.

“You finally got yer moment in the limelight and went a liiitle crazy,” Pickles grins crookedly at the memory. “You had a heart attack on stage and Skwisgaar saved ya. Ringing any bells?”

Of course this story led back to Skwisgaar. A common theme that Toki’s discovered by googling himself? He must have been telling that Magnus guy the truth in his memory, because him and Skwisgaar did indeed seem like they were best friends. They’re in almost every picture together, stiflingly close to each other - whether it be playing their guitars, out at clubs, or even just standing on the red carpet with the rest of the band. It was like they had magnets pulling them together on every occasion - and by god, even with an empty brain, the urge to be near the blonde didn’t go away. Toki still felt something, like he had told Skwisgaar previously, but he didn’t understand it. It was just pure feeling, with no backstory, so it seemed completely irrational.

“That ams sweets of him to saves me,” Toki says, glancing at a picture of Skwisgaar pressing the pads of the defibrillator against his chest.

“Don’t give ‘im too much credit. It was pretty much his fault y’went nuts,” Pickles chuckles. “You two were in a fight, over guitarist sh*t. As usual.”

Toki merely hums at Pickles’ comments as he comes across another picture of himself and Skwisgaar. They’re sitting together in a club, Toki hanging on Skwisgaar drunkenly as they laugh together in their own little world. The way they’re sitting - turned towards each other, knees touching, hands all tangled together...

“Gods, we reallies were close, huh?” Toki stares at the picture, mystified. He almost reaches out to touch the computer screen, because he’s wondering if he’s stuck in one of his dreams again. Wouldn’t it have been amazing, if the two of them used to be together. Skwisgaar is so beautiful, and so nice, and Toki would’ve been the luckiest guy in the world. He thinks about the guitarist's gorgeous blue eyes, about running his fingers through his golden hair, about—

“Yeah, too cloesch. Like, maybe even GAY closech,” Murderface snaps Toki out of his thoughts - which he was glad the bassist couldn’t hear them, because they were admittedly pretty gay. Murderface clicks idly on a picture of Toki and Skwisgaar, during what looked like an infamous on stage fight. Toki was about to hit Skwisgaar upside the head with his guitar as the blonde heatedly pointed and yelled at him. These things keep coming up, especially in the form of stories from the guys - apparently, the two of them did a lot of fighting too.

“Reallies?” Toki looks at Murderface with wide eyes, trying not to sound too hopeful. “Is that...ams possibility?”

“God, no!” Murderface says loudly, slamming his hands on the bar counter. “Honestly, I WISCH you two would’ve been f*cking gay. Skwisgaar is drowning in pusschey. The guy bonesch like, 400 chicksch a f*ckin’ week. Thatsch why you never schee me with any girlsch, because Skwisgaar takes them all!”

"Yea, but not anymore." Pickles says conspiratorially. He glances at Toki, then back to Murderface as he whispers, "You ain't got no excuse anymore, buddy. Have you noticed that Skwisgaar hasn't boned anyone, in like, a year? It's freakin' me the f*ck out."

Toki swallows, and suddenly, he’s thrown back in time. His mind short circuits, and then he’s watching himself stand in the middle of Mordhaus, trying to play video games as Skwisgaar parades through the living room with a group of women eagerly following behind him. They’re all half dressed, all clearly about to go have sex, and Toki looks absolutely livid as Skiwsgaar’s blue eyes meet his, before they disappear behind a closed door.

“Earth to Toki! I know your brain is f*cking broken, but try and keep up!” Murderface waves a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of the memory. One of his bushy eyebrows raises, “Can you control your f*ckin’ eye...bleeding? Jeshush!”

“Ohs,” Toki says in surprise - he’s gotten so used to it at this point that sometimes he doesn’t notice anymore. “Sorries.”

“Don’t be sahrry,” Pickles smacks Murderface in the back of his head as he tears off a paper towel and hands it to Toki. “Don’t be such a dick. It ain’t his fault.”

“But I AM a dick! Thatsch what I DO—ooh!” Murderface cuts himself off, as his scrolling through the "related images" lands them on a picture of their drummer back from his Snakes 'n Barrels days. Murderface glares, starting to get all sweaty, "God, you look scho f*ckin stupid, with those...tight jeansch, and the crop top, and...were you working out like, right before thisch picture was taken--?"

“Pickle! This ams you?” Toki laughs in interruption, eyes starry as he and Murderface both ogle the old picture. Nathan suddenly looks interested in what they’re looking at, craning his head to the see the screen.

“Yeeeeah,” Pickles stretches his arms back sheepishly. “That was my old band, dude. Back from the 80’s when wearin’ leather pants ‘n snortin’ co*ke was all ya needed to—“

“Oooh, wowee,” Toki says, scrolling to a picture of Pickles with bloodshot eyes and sky high grin on his face as he sits in the lap of one of his old bandmates, whose hands are squeezing his ass (which is crammed in latex pants that left pretty little to the imagination). “And I’s thoughts Toki was the wilds childs.”

Pickles shrugs with a crooked grin, shameless as ever, “It was the 80’s, dude. And it was f*ckin’ fun, I’ll tell ya thet.”

“Dude. I have never known ANYONE who ignoresch the golden rule asch much as you. What isch thisch golden rule, you aschk? Don't f*ck your bandmatsesch!” Murderface raises an eyebrow at Pickles, pointing to the picture on the screen. “Ischnt that like, the one thing your NOT schupposed to do?”

“I‘ve never been good with learnin’ lessons,” Pickles smirks, although even Toki doesn’t miss the way Nathan’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline.

“What?” Nathan blurts, cheeks ruddy. He tries to lean forward and look at the laptop screen. “Who have you, um....you-know-what’ed, that’s your bandmate? One of those Snakes ‘n Barrels dickhe*ds?”

Pickles blinks at him for a second, face flushing, “Aah, well, yee-ah, I guess, me ‘n Tony. Y’know, got into some sh*t back in the day...”

Nathan doesn’t reply, looking almost...pouty, and Toki can’t help the rare smile that graces his features. He doesn’t remember much about the night that he tried drugs for the second first time ever, but he does remember seeing Pickles and Nathan locking lips. It wasn’t expected, but something about it...filled Toki with the same longing that crackled through his veins whenever he saw Skwisgaar.

“Yeah, and...? I think you’re forgetting someone,” Murderface waves a hand, signaling for Pickles to continue.

“And?” Nathan repeats, clearly jealous, growing more and more irritated as he stares holes into the image on the computer. Pickles now looks serious, nose scrunched up in disgust as he glares at Murderface. This reaction seems to intrigue Nathan even more, newspaper lowering, and even Toki raises an eyebrow. From what Toki’s seen so far, Pickles is usually an anxious wreck - but he’s generally easygoing, and kind of...soft. Like a loveably trashy, sarcastic yet sincere kind of nice, and Toki has never seen him angry. This changes now, as he glares absolute daggers at Murderface, “You keep yer f*ckin’ mouth shut, or I swear to gahd, I’ll beat the sh*t straight outta yer fat ass.”

Murderface looks a bit nervous, and rightfully so, because Pickles is pissed. He holds his hands up passively. “Don’t be such a schensitive asshole, Picklesch. I’m a dick. I’m juscht dickin’ around.”

Pickles shoves him over at the computer, nearly knocking him out of the chair. “Check this out, Toki. Wanna see all the pictures of Murderface yankin’ it that you leaked when he was runnin’ for governor?”

Pickles and Murderface start bickering over what to click on, and Toki watches with a melancholy smile tugging on his face. Whenever the guys bicker, it’s just so...cute. It reminds Toki of something, and he isn’t sure what, but he craves it. Pickles’ hand slips, and it takes them to a website that instantly fills the screen with Dethklok-related ads. One ad specifically catches Toki’s eye, and he squints as he raises an eyebrow, “Skwisgaar Is Ams Dicks? Writtens by...Toki Wartooth? But that ams me! Rights?”

Murderface has an amused spark in his eye that can only be fueled by the promise of drama, but Pickles and Nathan get that look on their face when Toki stumbles on something that they aren’t ready to tell him. Like when Toki asked them about if he had parents, or when he asked who Magnus was, or what happened to put him into a coma in the first place. He told himself he was okay with not knowing - if his bandmates were so squeamish about explaining his past to him, maybe it was best if it stayed buried. But looking at this advertisem*nt for his own tell-all book, Toki has to admit - his curiosity is piqued.

“Whats ams this? ‘The exploskives new tell-alls from Dethklok’s abused guitarsist?’”Toki asks, squinting as he reads. The guys just stare at him. Toki stresses, “Skwisgaar has onlies been nice to mes. Whys would I writes this about hims?”

Sure, it’s clear that the two of them used to fight a lot, but Toki had assumed that it stemmed from love, platonic or otherwise. Nathan clears his throat from behind his newspaper, “Like Pickles said. You were just trying to get your moment on stage, or whatever. Publicity.”

“But whys did I needs that? I thought I playeds in the band?”

Pickles looks unsure of what to say, but he tries anyways, “Aahh, you, uh. Skwisgaar wasn’t a fan of you gettin’ solos and sh*t.”

Toki just stares dumbly, because that sentence means nothing to him. He doesn’t remember how playing made him feel, or knowing how to work his fingers over the strings of the confusing instrument at all. Was Skwisgaar actually mean to him? Maybe if he could get his hands on a copy of that book, though...maybe he would get some answers from himself. Maybe he would shed some light on what exactly Skwisgaar was to him.

“Good afternoon, boys,” Charles emerges from his office, looking tired and stressed. Their poor manager been MIA lately as he prepared for this gala, and clearly he was overwhelmed with it all. “Is everything on the bus suitable for you? We’ll be in Maine in about twelve hours.”

“Twelve hoursch?” Murderface moans, throwing his head back and nearly falling out of his chair. “f*ck, Charlesch! I’m gonna need a LOT more beer and a LOT more p*rn.”

“Noted,” Charles says without looking up from his Dethphone, and Toki wonders how many years of this band’s sh*t he’s put up with, because he always is so unfazed by it all. “Toki, how are we feeling?”

“Ums, goods, I guess,” Toki offers, not wanting Charles to worry. He’s been seeing flashes, lately. He hasn’t told the other band members about it, because it doesn’t seem like anything significant. None of it makes any sense to him - hands on his brain, the smell of burning flesh as a hot iron is pressed to his back, a toy made out of straw. He’s seen flashes of a dark green room, of being in the bottom of a pit and looking up at a circular grate. Toki isn’t sure he wants to remember the sparks of images he sees - they don’t feel like they’re good memories, anyways.

“Very good. I, ah, have your dates all picked out,” Charles says, and the whole band tenses uneasily for different reasons. “I’m sure there won’t be any problems. They all seem quite nice, and ah, what I assume each of you would consider...visually appealing. Those were the only standards I was told to adhere."

Pickles is the first to protest, eyes bouncing over to Nathan nervously, “What the f*ck, Charles! We don’t want any f*ckin’ stupid skan*s ruining our good times!”

Charles raises an eyebrow, “I thought you, ah, love...’skan*s.’”

Pickles sticks out his bottom lip, eyebrows down, “I never said thet.”

“Yes, you have. All the time actually. You quite literally have a tattoo that says ‘I love—‘“

“f*ck! Whatever, dude!” Pickles snaps, tilting his chin up. “We’re Dethklok. We don’t need dates.”

“Ja, does that means Skwisgaar haves ams dates toos?” Toki asks, chewing on his bottom lip. He’s been made pretty well aware that Skwisgaar has a...reputation with women, but he doesn’t think he’d be able to stand to see it. His mushy brain was just too fragile.

“Yes, he does. You all do. Besides you, Toki," Charles says apologetically, as Toki's bottom lip juts out in a pout. "I figured it would be too dangerous to have someone unaware of your medical problems around you all night. If you slip up, the media could be alerted you've lost your memory, and chaos would ensue. However, I'll see to it that you don't feel left out."

"But...Skwisgaar still has his dates," Toki sighs uneasily, and Charles nods. Great, Toki would be dateless and have to watch Skwisgaar flirt with his date all night. Sounds like the perfect evening.

"Is there a problem with any of this? Nobody looks particularly...thrilled," Charles observes, raising an eyebrow at the four men sitting in front of him. Pickles and Toki both look uneasy, sparks of jealousy practically flying off of them; Nathan’s face is buried back in his newspaper as he groans and tries to ignore the conversation entirely.

Murderface, meanwhile, looks the opposite. “ARE YOU KIDDING ME? ITSCH ABOUT f*ckIN TIME I GET SCHOME f*ckING PUSSCHEY!” He points at Charles harshly, “Don’t you f*cking DARE let Skwisgaar steal my date, Charlesch! I swear to GOD, I’ll kill myschelf!”

“Again...noted,” Charles huffs. He taps his foot impatiently, before stuffing his Dethphone into his pocket. He sighs, adjusting his glasses. “Here comes the, ah, hard part. Nathan?”

Nathan peeks above his newspaper, glaring in question, “What.”

“I’d like to talk to you in my office. It’s important,” Charles says, and Toki and Pickles exchange a glance with each other. Nathan groans and huffs as he throws his newspaper on the floor and pushes himself to his feet, shoveling more chips in his mouth, “This better be f*cking worth standing up for.”

The two of them disappear behind the door that leads to Charles’ office, leaving Pickles, Murderface, and Toki alone together. The three of them get back to Internet surfing together - but they just kind of end up falling down a rabbit hole of embarassing drunk interviews and videos of Murderface playing the bass with his dick, and Toki doesn’t have any more memory sparks.

Charles and Nathan walk back out about a half hour later, and Nathan looks...livid. His fists are clenched, bottom lip caught hard in between his teeth, face twisted into a brutal scowl. Pickles notices instantly, pushing himself away from the computer and rushing to his friend’s side.

“Woah, Nate, where’s the fire?” He asks, placing a hand on one of Nathan’s beefy forearms. Nathan glances down at it, but doesn’t remove it - he and Pickles make eye contact, and then it’s gone as Nathan turns his attention back to whatever issue is at hand.

“Charles f*cking f*cked me over,” Nathan growls, fists shaking. “f*cking ridiculous. He’s gonna make me do the most un-metal thing of my entire f*cking life.”

Nathan is talking like he’s mad at Charles - but it seems like he’s just...more frustrated in general, than anything. Toki is pretty sure that if Nathan really hated someone, they’d be bloody and beaten before they even knew he didn’t like them. Pickles looks worried now, raising a studded eyebrow, “What the hell’s the maetter?”

“Nathan has...taken one for the team, as you might put it,” Charles says, as Nathan angrily rolls his eyes. “Abigail agreed to accompany him to this gala. I’m hoping we’ll be able to use this night as a means to get information about what happened to Toki.”

Pickles blinks, standing up straighter, eye twitching. It's like a flip is switched, and the drummer is absolutely on fire with anger. It makes his green eyes really stand out against the red of his face, as he throws out his arms in a fury, “What the f*ck?! Nathan’s date is that f*ckin’ bitch?! She wouldn’t tell us ahnythin’ last time she f*ckin’ graced us with her goddamn presence, what—? What good would Nathan f*ckin’ wining and dining her do besides getting them all wrapped up in...whatever the f*ck, again!”

Murderface and Toki were both gaping at the drummer, and even Nathan looked a bit surprised. Charles, however, looked like he was fully prepared for this tantrum, and he frowns at the drummer, “I’m sorry, Pickles. We had to do this. I’m hoping when she sees Toki’s new brain scans, she’ll change her mind about withholding information.”

Pickles’ shoulders move up and down as he tries to get ahold of himself, but he’s too angry to care. He points at Nathan hotly, “If you get tied up with her again, I’m not gahnna be there when it falls apart.”

“f*cking gross,” Nathan huffs angrily. “I’d rather rip my colon out with my bare hands then be with f*cking Abigail again.”

Pickles doesn’t say anything more before he yanks out his drumsticks and storms away, off into the bus' recording studio to beat the sh*t out of his drums. Nathan is staring at his shoes, looking...pensive. Maybe a little anxious. He glances at Charles, muttering angrily, “You swear you’ll carry out my end of the deal though, right?”

“I’ve never not kept my word, Nathan. It’ll all be handled.” Charles holds up a hand as he glances at Toki, and seems to notice this is the first time the brunette has been without his blonde shadow since he’s woken up. “Toki. Where’s Skwisgaar?”

Toki frowns, picking at the chipped away black nail polish on his fingers. “I donts knows. He’s keepins away from mes.”

“Ah,” Charles says, a flash of concern on his features. “Well...I know you don’t remember this, but. Skwisgaar is very...hard-headed. If you don’t reach out first, you’ll never get anywhere.”

Toki nods blankly, grateful for this information. He doesn’t know Skwisgaar very well, but he knows his past self would want him to make things right. His fingers skate back over to the laptop, and he searches himself and Skwisgaar again. He sees a paparazzi picture of the two of them - hair up in buns, pajamas on as they walk out of a gas station as the sunrise pours in through the windows. If he looks closely enough, it almost looks like they’re holding hands. But he can’t tell - and he really needs to f*cking know.

Later that day, he asks a Klokateer to order him a copy of the book.

14 hours before the gala...

Pickles is standing in the middle of the dimly lot hallway outside of his and Toki’s rooms, he realizes hazily. Why did he get out of bed? He looks down, and a joint is sparkling in his left hand. Maybe that’s why he got up, to roll a joint. It doesn’t smell like weed, though. It doesn’t smell like anything. Pickles looks down the hallway, and if he squints, he can see the vague outline of Toki. The kid’s just standing there, motionless, and Pickles sees a flash of a memory - Toki’s seventeen and sitting in the band’s old ratty apartment and nervously puffing on his first joint ever. It was one of Pickles’ favorite memories with Toki - but seeing it now just reminds him how much he’s lost.

“Toki?” Pickles walks towards the brunette’s outline, the hallway feeling dark and endless. “Hey, dude, you alreight? Whatcha doin’ out here, just...standin’?”

Toki doesn’t turn around, and he doesn’t move. Pickles glances back and forth uneasily, finally close enough where he can grab Toki’s should and turn him around. “Ahh, Toki? You’re freakin’ me out, dude.”

He still doesn’t turn around, so Pickles turns him himself. The minute his hand touches Toki’s shoulder, Pickles feels like someone just shot him in the brain. His whole body ripples, and images blast through his eyes so fast he almost misses them. He sees Toki levitating off the ground, no shoes on and eyes rolled back into his head. A picture of Skwisgaar clutched in shaky hands, torn and ripped and splattered in blood. He sees Mordhaus on fire, an unknown person smiling deviously, Nathan trying to grab for him as his face melts away, and the images are going too fast now to do anything but discombobulate him.

Toki’s head starts turning in ways it shouldn’t, blood pouring out of his eyes and his mouth, bones breaking and neck snapping, and Pickles tries to back away but he can’t, he can’t—

Pickles gasps as his eyes snap open, and he can’t breathe. He’s wheezing, tears rolling down his cheeks, desperate for air. He instantly registers the fact that he’s clawing at his own throat, and a strangled gasp pushes its way out of him in shock. He feels big, warm hands shaking him, and wide green eyes on him, and he can’t be bothered to be embarrassed over crying in front of Nathan because he’s way too f*cking freaked out to do anything else.

“Pickles,” Nathan’s voice is as close as it can get to a whisper in its deep timbre, and he looks probably just a scared as Pickles feels. Pickles is still gasping for air and shaking wildly as Nathan grabs him roughly and...hugs him. It almost throws him for even more of a loop than the nightmare did, but Pickles is so f*cking grateful for it as he sobs and hugs back tightly. He isn’t sure how long they sit like this, just holding each other as Pickles tries to get ahold of himself. Nathan’s giant f*cking baseball mitt of a hand is shaky as it rubs circles on Pickles’ back, and slowly, Pickles starts to come back to reality.

“f*ck. This is brutal,” Nathan mumbles, black hair tickling Pickles’ nose. “You haven’t freaked out in your sleep in, uh. In a while. Since we, yknow. Started...having sleepover. Things.”

Nathan was right - ever since they started sleeping in the same bed, Pickles hadn’t had any night terrors. And he got to be close to Nathan all night, which honestly was the best thing to happen to him in a long time. Besides the other best thing, which was...uh...he and Nathan totally made out when they were tripping balls on acid. It was awesome, and Pickles wishes he had been more sober so he could remember it better, but he does have a vivid memory of Nathan’s f*cking teeth scraping over Pickles’ bottom lip, and holy f*ck, it was the greatest moment of his life. It’s a couple days later, and so far they’ve just pretended like it never happened. Pickles hopes Nathan still thinks about it as much as he does.

Nathan just keeping holding him, beefy fingers still on his back. The lead singer glances left and right before hesitantly asking, “You wanna, um. Talk about it?”

Pickles sniffles, cheeks still wet, and he shakes his head. “Don’t know how I’d even explain that sh*t...”

Nathan merely makes a grumbly noise of assent, and he doesn’t push it further. Nathan is, admittedly, not great with sharing emotions or talking about things. It was still sweet that he’d offer to listen to Pickles’ stupid nightmare, and the drummer’s heart just lifts a tiny bit.

“You gonna be alright? To go back to sleep,” Nathan noses against Pickles’ ear unthinkingly, and it sends a shiver straight up the drummer’s spine. Did Nathan do that on purpose? Pickles thinks about their kiss, about the way Nathan looked at him like he wanted him, and then—

Pickles’ thoughts derail as he thinks about what’s coming tomorrow - Nathan has a date with f*cking Abigail. No wonder why Pickles is a stressed out f*cking mess. She’s gonna sink her claws back into Nathan, and he’s gonna be right back to square one. Come tomorrow, everything will be f*cked between them, because Nathan will be spending his nights with that conniving bitch.

“Yee-ah, I’ll be okey,” Pickles says, finding it in him to pull himself from Nathan’s embrace. “Thanks, Nate. I’m sahrry I woke ya, dude.”

“Whatever,” Nathan shrugs, looking at Pickles for a few beats before he puts his head back against one of the drummer’s pillows. His black hair fans around him, green eyes pensive in the darkness, and he just looks like a f*cking beautiful dark angel or something. Pickles chews on his bottom lip and turns his back to Nathan - usually, they sleep back-to-back, and it’s just comfort enough knowing they’re both in the same room. Pickles snuggles into his own spot, making sure everything’s the way he likes it. His eyes already feel heavy again as he says tiredly, “G’nite, Nate.”

Nathan doesn’t reply. Pickles starts to fade back to dreamland, almost knocked back out when he feels movement next to him. “Pickles,” Nathan’s voice reverbates through him. “I can’t sleep.”

“I’m sahrry,” Pickles mumbles sleepily. “f*ckin’...snuggle me, dude. I’m like a haht water bottle.”

Nathan doesn’t move for several beats, and Pickles honestly doesn’t give a f*ck if he just embarrassed himself. Nathan will be with Abigail tomorrow, anyways. These sleepovers will end the minute she’s back in his life, and Pickles is gonna have to start shacking up with f*cking Murderface or something since everyone else will be taken. God, that guy snores, but not in a cute way like Nathan does. He—

Nathan’s arm curls around his middle with a surprising gentleness, large body pressed against the back of Pickles’ smaller one. Pickles’ eyes pop open, breath catching in his throat, because holy sh*t, it's been a long f*cking time since Nathan has held him this way. They used to sleep like this, back when Dethklok was still new and all they had in their sh*tty apartment was some musical equipment, a few mattresses on the floor, and some ratty blankets to combat the lack of electricity. When he and Nathan started sleeping on the same mattress, holding each other to try and get warm - even if it was completely harmless - it was just another nail in the coffin of Dethklok's previous rhythm guitarist. Pickles squeezes his eyes shut, banishing the thoughts from his head about one of the reasons he drank to forget.

“Is this...okay.”

“Yeah, dude. It’s...yeah,” Pickles stammers, heart pounding. “‘S nice, actually.”

“Brutal,” Nathan says, huffing out a sigh. “Goodnight.”

Pickles hums in response, already almost back to sleep. When Charles opens the door to wake them in the morning, he backs out and closes it without a sound.

Chapter 7: interlude

Chapter Text

10 hours before the gala

Pickles supposed he just wasn’t meant to get any goddamn sleep. As soon as Nathan started snuggling him (halle-goddamn-lujah, he's getting spooned by Nathan f*cking Explosion), he almost passed out immediately, the other man’s snores rumbling through his body in the best possible way. He was cozy, he felt safe, and he was finally catching some much-deserved z’s. And then the world gives him a giant middle finger when his door creaks open and the early-morning sunlight from the hallway bus windows streams in.Pickles cracks open an eye in annoyance, and Nathan grumbles something and pulls Pickles tighter. His heart thumps in his chest at the contact, and he’d really like to f*cking find out who the hell has the audacity to interrupt his snuggle fest. He squints his hazy eyes, because it’s still mostly dark, and whoever is sneaking in is doing a really bad job. They curse under their breath as they trip over some beer cans, and as Pickles’ eyes adjust, he watches Skwisgaar dig through his top drawer. His eyes narrow. Well f*ck.

He waits for Skwisgaar to get what he needs - and whatever it is, he doesn’t find it. Which Pickles had precisely intended on, because as soon as he found out someone was stealing his sh*t, he moved it to a different location. He’d been in Snakes ‘n Barrels for god’s sake - those guys tried to steal from his stockpile of drugs every single day. Gotta learn to be crafty.Pickles slips out from underneath Nathan’s arm, and it’s the most depressing feeling ever. He’d love to skip the gala entirely and just stay curled up against the lead singer all day, but again, the universe hates him. Luckily though, Nathan doesn’t wake up, and Pickles catches the door right before Skwisgaar shuts it behind him.

The blonde pauses when he realizes that the door has been stopped by Pickles’ foot, and Skwisgaar’s eyes widen in surprised guilt. Good. Pickles really doesn’t like to have his drugs f*cking stolen from him, and he’s suspected this sh*t has been going on for at least a week now.“Hellos, Pickle,” Skwisgaar says, voice tense, “I—“

“Shh! Be f*ckin’ quiet,” Pickles hisses, and before Skwisgaar can ask why he has to be quiet, he squints back into Pickles’ room. They rocket straight up into his hairline when he sees Nathan sleeping in his bed, and Pickles sees what he does at the same time.

“No, f*ck you,” Pickles points at Skwisgaar’s slow smile, face on fire. “It ain’t like that, dude. It’s like when I slept in with you, yknow? Just two dudes, bein’ bros, sleeping in the same bed. Gettin' a lil' snuggly. Big f*cking deal.”

“Then why ams you all reds abouts it?” Skwisgaar smirks, and Pickles’ damn Irish skin betrays him as his face absolutely catches on fire.

“Look, I’m gonna kick the sh*t outta you if you don’t go away,” Pickles hisses, hating how flustered he sounds. “What the hell do you think yer doin’, dude?”

Looking at Skiwsgaar’s face, he knows right off the bat that something’s wrong, and it’s not just insomnia. Through the darkness, he can see Skwisgaar is shaking, and holy hell, Pickles’ first thought is that Skwisgaar was doing more than just stealing presciption pills. Is he back on the hard sh*t? Pickles clearly remembers slapping Skwisgaar to try and wake him up as he suffered through his overdose, the sun setting over Ibiza and his friend’s pulse almost slowed to nothing, eyes rolled back, shaking and spasming—

“Cans I borrows some of your medicines,” Skwisgaar’s voice is sharp, demanding, even though it registers to Pickles that the sound of the blonde's stuffy nose gives away his crying.

“My—? Hah?” Pickles stammers unintelligently, rubbing his eyes, blinking away the vision of Skwisgaar’s lifeless body.

“Your medicines,” Skwisgaar repeats, desperately. “I needs it. I saw Charlies gives it to yous, and I’m sorries, but I was takin’s it and now you’re hidingks it and I needs some.”

Pickles’ eyes harden, because no, he has to be firm on this. He blames himself for what happened to Skwisgaar last time, and it ain’t f*ckin’ happening again. “No, Skwisgaar. I can’t, I’m sahrry.”

“Whys not?” Skwisgaar begs, looking worried and shaky and f*ck, he’s really got that all-too familiar itch that only prescription pills can scratch. “I tolds you, I needs them!”

“And I told you no, so knahck It off,” Pickles tries to shut the door, but Skwisgaar sticks his foot in the doorway. Pickles raises a studded eyebrow at him, “Hoo-kay buddy, yer startin’ to piss me off here.”

“I needs it, Pickle,” Skwisgaar says desperately, hands folded like a prayer. “I’ll begs you fors it, I just—“

“Skwisgaar, I said no,” Pickles tries to shut the door again, his eyes meeting Skwisgaar’s, and its jarring how...mentally f*cked the blonde looks. He can understand the desperate feeling of needing drugs to quell the pain, and he can also understand that Skwisgaar has been in an extreme amount of agony lately. The guy’s been hiding in his room and inconsolable ever since Toki talked about Magnus when he heard Skwisgaar play. But there was no way in hell the guy would be getting any drugs from him. If something happened to their last remaining guitarist, they wouldn’t get through it without crumbling apart for good.

“You dont’s understands,” Skwisgaar puts his hands over his face, letting out this huffy, pained sigh. “You donts know what I’m goingks throughs...”

“Because you don’t tell anyone anything! f*ck, dude!” Pickles shoves Skwisgaar out of the doorway, glancing back at Nathan before walking into the hall. He glares at Skwisgaar, who in the light of the hall, looks even worse than Pickles had thought. And interestingly enough, he sees that Skwisgaar has a pair of headphones around his neck, connected to a portable cassette player.

Skwisgaar has the decency to look guilty as Pickles sleepily glares at him, but he still crosses his arms bitterly, “What else ams I supposeds to dos? Nobodies am lettings me—“

“We’re all worried about you, dude! And you make it so f*cking hard to help you sometimes,” Pickles wrings his hands in the air, making sure to keep his voice hushed so Nathan stays asleep. “You plannin’ on getting hooked on drugs again, and then what? OD’ing and you die and Toki’s here all alone with a melted f*cking brain?”

“Pssh, Toki doesn’t gives a f*cks about whether I’m heres or not,” Skwisgaar says, quiet voice thick with emotion. “He doesn’t knows who I ams! He hears my playingks and thinks about f*ckingks Magnus! Do you haves any ideas how miskerables it ams all makings me? Even when Toki ams tryings to be nice to mes, it’s just...its even worse because it amnst rights!”

“Yeah, well why do you care so much, anyways? I seem to recall you ‘n Toki always fighting, always competing - your competition is gone, dude! We’re a one guitar band just like you wanted, you don’t have to worry ‘bout Toki gettin’ better than you cuz he’s probably never gonna play again,” Pickles says, and Skwisgaar’s bottom lip wobbles. “This should be your f*ckin’ dream come true!”

“You thinks you ams sos smart, Pickle. You gots me all figureds out, huh?” Skwisgaar’s eyes are fiery, “You don’t knows nothings!”

“Yeah? And what don’t I know?” Pickles whispers harshly, “What the f*ck am I missing here?”

“I ams in loves with Toki!” Skwisgaar hisses back, and Pickles feels the breath whoosh out of him instantly. “Since his very forst f*ckingks tour with us! You knows what you misseds? Ten years of this sh*t betweens us down the f*ckings drain and it's tearingks me the f*cks apart! ! He doesn’t remembors and I dos, and we weres sos close before Magnus f*cksed it all ups, and--!"

Skwisgaar seems to realize he went too far - maybe because Pickles went from pissed off to just gaping at him. Pickles whispers, green eyes boring holes into Skwisgaar's head, “I f*cking knew it.”

He was right. Skwisgaar and Toki did have a thing - which makes him feel a little better about being gay for Nathan, but goddamn! He had no f*cking idea that it went back that far. Ten years? Skwisgaar’s eyes dart around nervously, and he looks like he's having trouble processing the words that just came out of his mouth. Pickles shakes his head, asking incredulously, “How did you hide this from everyone? How did it start? How did—?”

Skwisgaar starts walking away, shoulders hunched up, fists clenched. Pickles stands there, scratching his head, and he's about to accept Skwisgaar leaving for the sake of getting back to snuggling Nathan, but the blonde's voice rings out down the hall, "Follows me, and I’ll tells you everythingks.”

Okay, f*ck. Pickles has always been a curious dude, and two of his bandmates are in love or whatever the f*ck, so he glances back at the door and then follows the lead guitarist. The two of them sit down together. and Skwisgaar tells him everything. About their first kiss on the balcony, the second in the studio, how they became friends with benefits, and how that all got messed up when Toki accidentally confessed his love for him. And then, the breakup that followed, which Pickles could remember with an irritated clarity. The two of them wereconstantlyfighting, and this seemed to tie up with the earlier memory Pickles had of Toki crying on the couch.

"'Then sees you around,' he says. He ams always with the dramackticals," Skwisgaar's eyes are red-rimmed with emotion, and he takes a drag off the cigarette he bummed from Pickles. "Sos, it was ovors. But then, years lators, somethings happened right before everythings went to sh*ts...”

One year ago...

Three years had passed, between when Toki and Skwisgaar “broke up,” and Roy Cornickelson’s funeral. The first year is naturally the hardest - when the breakup was still fresh, Skwisgaar never thought they'd ever be friends again.They both dealt with their breakup in different ways - besides their eagerness to fight without eachother about everything - that almost resulted in the demise of Dethklok altogether. Skwisgaar went on a several-month long sex bender that just about broke Toki’s heart - and it wasn’t worth it, because he couldn’t find someone that could replicate the way Toki made him feel. Similarly to his guitar playing, his performance was off. If he wasn’t burningly angry, he was bored and would quit halfway through, which definitely had never happened before.

Toki saw the stream of girls Skwisgaar was parading in and out, and it just kept making things worse and worse - the brunette was getting more irritable, more miserable. He was always drunk, throwing himself into partying with Roscko, and he was putting more and more distance between himself and the rest of the band. Besides when Nathan and Pickles would switch between taking care of his drunk ass, nobody ever really saw him anymore. It was getting more and more clear every day that this couldn't go on, and Charles was already trying to figure out how he’d deal with the impending dismemberment of the band.

But then, something changed. They were at a show, and the audience requested for them to do the very same seventeen-minute guitar duet that they recorded on the day of their second kiss. As they both shredded onstage, perfectly complimenting each other even through all their anger, Toki looked over at him with the bitter, lovelorn expression he’d been giving him for the past few months. But then...something softened. Maybe it was because their guitars sounded so infuriatingly amazing together, or maybe it was because they just missed each other. But Skwisgaar’s expression softened too, and by the time the duet was over, there was some sort of unspoken apology between the two of them. Everything was fragile for a long time, after that, but it was progress.

They were lucky enough to have been able to get back to a place of comfortability. The only way to really keep up being friends was to never talk about what happened between the two of them. They pal around with band like everything is normal again. Sometimes Skwisgaar’s stare accidentally lingers, or sometimes Toki will get drunk and hang all over him. The longing pain doesn’t go away, and the regret for rejecting Toki only gets worse and worse each day, but Skwisgaar knows exactly how to drown out the pain by now. There's nothing else to do - as long as Dethklok is going strong, they have to put the band first.

And then, suddenly, Dethklok isn’t anything anymore, because they’ve broken up.

It’s the night before Roy Cornickelson’s funeral, and everyone’s off sulking in their own room. Skwisgaar’s already packing - there’s really no way this current arrangement is sustainable anymore, and he knows that after Cornickelson’s funeral ends, the band has no reason to stay together. They’ve played their last show, they’ll have attended their last event. After tomorrow, Dethklok will be over.

Skwisgaar is sitting cross-legged on the floor as he looks down at his guitar, sighing as he packs it into a case. He sacrificed so much in order to keep Dethklok going - yet Pickles and Nathan f*cking ruined everything, and for what? For Abigail, someone neither of them was even dating, and someone they definitely weren’t...in you-know-what with. The L word. Not that Skwisgaar had been in that, with Toki, but...

There’s a light, familiar knocking on his door, and then there’s a pair of blue eyes staring at him on the other side. He hadn’t seen the brunette as much within the past couple weeks - he’d been busy being Murderface’s intern, and Skwisgaar was busy scraping the bottom of the barrel with Nathan. He wondered how much he’d see Toki after they didn’t have the excuse of the band to pal around anymore. Even at their worst, they still managed to see each other fairly often. After almost ten years, Skwisgaar couldn't imagine life without him.

“Toki,” he greets, chiseled chin in his palm, blue eyes lifting to the brunette in his doorway. Skwisgaar has to admit, Toki looks adorable in his attempt at a business outfit. The buttons on his white dress shirt aren't matched up right, and his hair is messy in it's ponytail, and he's just so damn cute that Skwisgaar has to squeeze his eyes shut. The past three years have been similar to the beginning of his crush - repression was the key, and it was a lot harder this time around. It’s not like he opened up his heart and let himself fall in love, only to deny himself happiness for what turned out to be no reason.

Toki opens his mouth to say something, a box in his hands, but he pauses as he looks at the room around him. “You ams packins?”

Skwisgaar shrugs, watching Toki’s eyes land on his packed away guitar, “Yeuuh, I means. Tomorrow ams the last day we ams...Dethklok. I knows Pickle almost has his stuff packeds too, sos...it ams probablies a good ideas to gets it outs of the ways.”

“But, where ams you goins to go?” Toki wrings his hands, blue eyes miserable, and Skwisgaar knows he’s taking this harder than anyone.

“I donts knows, honestallies. Maybes backs to Swedens."

“I cants believe we ams breakins up,” Toki shakes his head, running a hand over his face. “All over a stupids goils.”

“Ja, at least we mades it to the ends, and it wasn’t our faults,” Skwisgaar snorts, before he realizes he accidentally broke their “don’t talk about it” rule. The brunette looks surprised, cheeks coloring, but Toki goes with it. He raises an eyebrow at Skwisgaar jokingly, “Now, what reallies holds us back, huh? We amnst gonna f*cks up the band, because the band’s already f*cksed.”

Toki just meant it as a joke. But Skwisgaar looks over at Toki, and their eyes meet in a nostalgically familiar way. Skwisgaar feels his breath catch in his throat, the familiar panic of monogamy and love creeps up on him, strangling him, and f*ck, he's missed Toki so much, he--

“Ums, anyways,” Toki laughs a bit nervously, and he looks almost embarrassed as he hesitantly holds out the box to Skwisgaar. “I was cleanins out my room and...”

The blonde raises an eyebrow, breaking out of his own inner turmoil, “A-Ams that mines, or?”

“Ums, techicallies, ja,” Toki says, rubbing the back of his neck. “If you dont wants them, just throws it away.”

“Whatevors,” Skwisgaar shrugs a shoulder, trying not to think about the way Toki's face would look just as he'd move in to kiss him, and how maybe he could finally see that again, and Toki’s Dethphone rings before the brunette can say anything more.

“Ugh, Moiderface,” Toki huffs, waving goodbye before strolling away. He’s still in the midst of “jacko*ff-Gate,” as the media’s been calling it, where he leaked all those naked pictures of Murderface in...less-than-decent scenarios.

Skwisgaar looks at the box that Toki left - the little sh*t was always taking Skwisgaar’s stuff, especially back when he was in Thunderhorse, so he expects it to be his pants or his hair products or something. When he opens it, however, he’s definitely not expecting what he sees inside.The box is full of cassettes. Nothing written on them, except for ‘Skwisgaar,’ and a tiny heart next to it, just like before. There’s so many of them, and he has to wonder - has Toki been playing him songs for all these years that they were supposed to have been back to normal? Has Toki never gotten over him? He swallows, staring at all the tapes that contain the most sensitive parts of Toki’s heart, and he drops his head into his hands.

Skwisgaar does the only logical thing he can think of. He gets f*cked up, and he listens to as many of the cassettes as he can. He raids the bar, he reaches into Pickles’ top drawer and grabs whatever’s available to him, and he sits in his room and just gets destroyed. Nearly instantly, he’s crying. Ugly sobs into his hands, as Toki’s hauntingly romantic playing surges through his head for what feel like the most emotionally brutal next few hours in his life.

That's when he finally admits it to himself, as Toki fingerpicks lovingly in his ears, and the tears roll down his cheekbones. He's in love with Toki. There's no more denying, or repressing, and he still doesn't understand love but he knows that this is it and it just makes him cry harder. He doesn’t even realize he’s finally stood up, headphones still over his ears and face tear-stained, until time skips and it’s registering to him that he’s about to knock on Toki’s door. He hears shuffling on the other side - Toki’s still awake. He could tell Toki he loves him tonight, but something rattles in him. The fear, the unsureness. He need more time to process, more time to strategize - there’s no rush, right? After Dethklok comes to a close tomorrow, he can figure out what to do next.

He walks away from Toki’s door. He’d tell him tomorrow, after the funeral.

Toki beams at him the following morning, walking through the kitchen and grabbing a bag of trail mix. He's in his clothes for the funeral, even though it's still not for a couple hours, and when his blue eyes meet Skwisgaar's, the blonde thinks about the relevation he came to last night, and he sweats a bit nervously. There's no way Toki could know, right?

"Sees ya laters, Skwisgaar!"

"Where ams you goings?" Skwisgaar snaps out of his thoughts, raising an eyebrow from where he sits at the kitchen bar. "Outs with, eugh, Magnus agains?"

"We ams carpoolins to the funeral!" Toki chirps, and he walks past Skwisgaar and towards the door. Skwisgaar watches him go, sighing longingly, and then Toki surprises him. He turns around at the doorway, blushing as he looks back at Skwisgaar, "Heys, will you waits for mes to leaves afterwards? Maybes we coulds...um. Gets a drinks or somethins. You knows, after Dethkloks ams officiallies overs."

Toki smiles at him. Skwisgaar feels his heart lift out of his chest, hope and that gooey feeling practically strangling him, and color floods to his face as he smiles back, "Sounds like a dates to mes."

Later that night, Skwisgaar watches Magnus plunge a knife through Toki's ribcage, and only one of them ends up drinking away the pain at a bar after the funeral.

Present Day

“Sos, ja. Then he gots kidnappeds by Magnus, I goes guilt crazies and OD’s...well, yous knows the rest,” the blonde sighs, running a hand through his hair. He smiles self-deprecatingly, “It all ams just a stories, about me f*ckingks up reallies bad.”

Well. f*ck. Skwisgaar sits there, finished with his f*cking love story between him and goddamn Toki, and Pickles feels like he’s about to have an aneurism. He knew he wasn’t the brightest bulb in the bunch, but the fact that Skwisgaar and f*cking Toki managed to keep something so big makes him feel horribly stupid. He tries to remember moments where the two of them slipped up, or days they slept in each other’s rooms, hands on thighs under tables, any sort of indicator - but he’s coming up blank.

“Gahd! I’m such an idiot for never noticing! Skwisgaar, you gahtta tell me I ain’t that f*ckin dumb,” Pickles shakes his head incredulously, as the blonde merely co*cks an eyebrow.

“Eugh. You saids it, nots me,” Skwisgaar shrugs boredly, as if he wasn’t just on the verge of tears telling a grand tale of romance moments ago.

“How did you guys manage to keep this from everyone for ten f*cking years?” Pickles gesticulates wildly with his hands. “That’s f*cked up, dude! That’s secret keepin’ and there ain’t supposed to be secrets in a f*ckin’ band!”

Skwisgaar raises an eyebrow, “You reallies had no idea? That ams your own faults, for nots being okvzervants.”

“I mean, you guys always did a lot of sh*t together and stuff, and there was that one time Toki was cryin’ all over me about you f*ckin’ tons of slu*ts, but...” Pickles shrugs a shoulder helplessly. “I sure as f*ck didn’t think you guys were, yknow, doin’ alla that. It doesn’t really seem like somethin’ you’d be interested in, let alone with Toki.”

“Ja, it wasnts,” Skwisgaar sighs, carding a hand through his long blonde hair. “I haves problem with selfs-restrainkts.”

“Up until Magnus kidnapped Toki and sh*t, we all thought you guys really hated each other.” Pickles plucks a joint out from underneath his wristband, and he lights it up quickly. He offers it to Skwisgaar, who glares at him. He grins sheepishly, “Oh, right. Sahrry.”

“Sometimes we dos hates each other’s, but it’s not bad hates. Loves and hates ams like yins and yangs. Veries thin lines,” Skwisgaar says, clearly pushing through embarrassment. He’s probably never talked about the way he feels about Toki outloud to anyone before, and it must be...hard for him, to be doing it now. “You needs them boths, and when you ams alreadies friends, it makes things...eugh. Love ams a fickle mistress.”

“Gahd...” Pickles trails off, mind effectively blown, and he watches Skwisgaar’s face fall into a nervous expression. He raises an eyebrow, “Y’ alreight, dude? Yer lookin' all pensive 'n sh*t.”

“Do you, eugh...? You ams not goingks to tells anyones?” Skwisgaar asks uneasily. “I donts even wants Toki to knows, sos...I don’t need to puts myself throughs Moiderface rubbingks it ins...”

He trails off. Pickles’ eyebrows knit, and he stares at Skwisgaar for a long time. Of course, Skwisgaar is scared. Scared because the group rags on gay sh*t so much, and he’s not sure how Pickles is reacting. Or if he’ll tell anyone. He knows that their group isn’t the greatest with talking about emotions, but...is that why they kept it a secret? Because they didn’t think the band would be cool? Pickles hopes he isn’t f*cking this moment of vulnerability up, and he shakes his head, “Dude, I wouldn’t do thet to ya. I don’t care if you ‘n Toki are gay together, I’d hanestly have been happy for you guys. It’s...um...kinda like...”

Pickles stops himself before he confesses to something he’ll regret. But Skiwsgaar knows exactly what he was going to say, and his voice is hesitant as he asks, “You...like Nathans, yes?”

Pickles blinks. The same flash of fear shoots through him - would Skwisgaar tell? Would he make fun of him? But he looks at his friend and all the worry slowly pushes away. Skwisgaar is in the same boat as he is, after all. He opened up to Pickles, telling him a decade-long secret. This in mind, Pickles steels himself and squeezes his eyes shut as he confesses, “Yeeeeah, I do. Hanestly, I try to repress the hell outta that sh*t, but I don’t think I do a very good jahb. Even f*ckin' mushy headed Toki can tell I'm crazy 'bout him.”

“I...understands that feeling. He ams your best friends, and your bandmates, and there ams a lot at risks. Sounds veries familiars to mes,” Skiwsgaar says, and Pickles is stunned into silence. He's right, they're living out ominously similar storylines. Pickles is suddenly glad that he can talk to Skwisgaar about this, because nobody would be able to understand it as good as someone in practically the exact same scenario. So Pickles does something he's never done before - shared his feelings by his own accord, not just because he was in rehab or being held at knife-point.

“Dude, it’s just,” Pickles pats some cadences on his thighs nervously, “He’s my best friend, yknow? And all that weird shiet happened between us with that bitch Abeegail ‘n we’re finally back to normal...and now! Now he’s goin’ to the gala with her, and what if—what if she sneaks back in like a f*ckin' minx or something, and Nathan takes her back? I mean, why would he wanna be with me if he could be with--?“

Skwisgaar looks at him flatly, “Listens, Pickle. Thinks abouts all the times I coulds have been with Tokis, and I didnst do nothings. I stoppeds myself everys times because I always had ams excuse. Now he ams gone, and I cants gets that back. What ams your excuse with Nathans?”

Pickles stares holes into his hands. When he finally caught the person who’d been stealing his drugs, he did not expect the confrontation to end like this. Sitting in Skwisgaar’s room - who’s been in love with Toki for years - and getting relationship advice about his stupid crush on Nathan. And he especially wouldn’t have imagined he’d think Skwisgaar is right. But he is, isn’t he? Pickles sure as hell doesn’t want to make the same mistakes Skwisgaar did, and end up all heartbroken and alone.

“Well, how ahbout the faect that Nathan loves chicks?” Pickles stresses. “I don’t think he’d wanna shap in my department, if yknow what I mean.”

Skwisgaar levels him with a look, “He ams just snugglings yous an hours ago! You thinks Nathans just does that?”

Pickles crosses his arms, “Ye-ah, I mean. We used to, back in the day...”

“He probablies liked you backs then, toos,” Skwisgaar shrugs, even as Pickles shakes his head. He knew he had the hots for Nathan since the day they met - but there was no way he felt the same way about Pickles for so long. Pickles was a co*ked out, feral rockstar back when they first started the band. There was really nothing ‘likeable’ about him.

“I doubt it, dude,” Pickles sighs. “You remember me back then. I was a dickhe*d.”

Skwisgaar smirks, “Ja, I remembors Snakes ‘n Barrel Pickle. You thoughts you weres the real deals. But maybes Nathans hads a things for latex pants and eyelinors.”

Pickles laughs half-hysterically into his hands. Sometimes it sucked having the same friends for the past fifteen years.

“Pickle. Seriouslies. Just tells Nathans how you feels,” Skwisgaar says airily, as if he doesn’t know firsthand exactly how terrifying it could be. “Toki just laids one on me and that’s how it alls starteds up.”

“If I try to ‘just lay one on’ on Nathan, I’d prahbably get my f*ckin’ Irish dick ripped ahff,” Pickles snorts, and Skwisgaar has the decency to chuckle. “And you’re one to tahk, your sh*t still ain’t solved! You’re naht gonna tell Toki alla that sh*t you just told me? Don't you think it's about time you just tell the guy you f*ckin' love 'im?”

“I donts thinks sos,” Skwisgaar says quietly. “Maybes he am bettors off not knowingks. If he remembers lovingks me, he’ll remember me beings a stupid dicks too. What if he remembers that, and not all’s of it? Just me tellingks hims he ams dild*s at the guitar, or me f*ckingks floozies, or—“

“Well, what if he remembers the good stuff?” Pickles rests his chin on his palm, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, me and Nathan—“

There’s rapid knocking on the door.

“Pickles,” Nathan’s voice is gruff outside the door, and sh*t sh*t sh*t, did he hear Pickles from the other side? Pickles and Skwisgaar stare at each other as Nathan knocks again, beefy fist pounding harder.

“Oh f*ck, dude,” Pickles feels his body start to shake in panic as he whispers, “Ya think he heard me talkin' bout him? f*ck! We were supposed to be f*ckin' snuggling!”

“Nathans can'ts hears for sh*ts. Don'ts worries,” Skwisgaar pats Pickles on the shoulder. He leans in, whispering so Nathan can’t hear, “Listens, Pickle. This gala ams your chance to tells him whats you feels before Abigails tries to gets him back likes the minx she ams. Just goes for it.”

“I don’t know, dude....” Pickles shakes his head, eyes wide, but f*ck his entire life, because he might be actually considering laying it all on the line. What does he have to lose, at this point?

Nathan knocks on the door again, and Skwisgaar gives Pickles an encouraging shove, “Goes on, dild*. Gets your mans!”

“Oh my gahd, shut the f*ck up,” Pickles throws his hands over his blazing face. He looks back at Skwisgaar, and he just keeps on doing things he usually refuses to do, because he hesitantly holds his arms out. “Thanks for sharin’ that stuff with me, man. I’m, ah, here if you need me.”

“Eugh,” Skwisgaar rolls his eyes, looking annoyed as he quickly accepts Pickles’ hug. “Thank yous. And takes it easy ons the pills.”

“Yer one to talk. Stop stealing my f*cking sh*t, I’m serious,” Pickles shoves him away with a smirk, and he slips out of the room. Nathan greets him on the other side of the door, looking tired and irritated as he stands there flatly.

“Charles wanted me to get you guys. Gotta get ready for the stupid f*cking gala,” Nathan growls in annoyance. His voice lowers a bit, not wanting Skwisgaar to hear, “And I had that dream again. With the. Uh. Water beast.”

“Oh,” Pickles says in surprise. He slings an arm around Nathan, and they start walking to the main room. Pickles peeks over his shoulder, to see Skwisgaar smile encouragingly at him. Pickles flashes him a friendly middle finger behind Nathan's back. “Ya haven’t had that one in a while, huh?”

“Yeah. It was f*cked,” Nathan says, leaning against Pickles in a way that makes the drummer's heart hammer. “Maybe it’s because of the gala. I don’t have a good feeling about it.”

“Come ahn, Nate. Maybe it won’t be thet bad,” Pickles pats his shoulder. “I mean...y'never know what could go down at these fancy things. Big...reveals, 'n sh*t. Feelins. Yknow?"

Nathan merely grunts in acknowledgement, and Pickles feels his body thrum with nervous energy. He was gonna have to fend off Abigail, keep an eye on Toki and Skwisgaar, and figure out a way to get Nathan alone. What could possibly go wrong, right? Maybe if he plays his cards right tonight, he'll finally get his goddman snuggles.

Chapter 8: the gala

Chapter Text

Present Day

The gala hasn't even started yet, and Skwisgaar already feels like he's not going to make it through the day.

“I’m sorry, Skwisgaar. It's really not that big of a deal,” Charles says from where he sits behind his desk, several calls on hold as one hand scribbles something down and the other is tying his own bowtie. Skwisgaar tugs at the collar of his shirt nervously, his expensive shoes practicaly burning holes in the floors of Charles’ office as he paces back and forth.

“I ams Skwisgaar Skwigelf. I does NOT get stoods up,” Skwisgaar hisses, slamming a hand on Charles’ desk. “It was your jobs to find mes a date - that’s i didnst even wants! - for this stupid dild*s gala!”

“Skwisgaar. She didn’t stand you up. Your date quite literally exploded when a flock of eagles got stuck in her jet engine on the way over,” Charles raises an eyebrow. “I told them to fly her in the Dethkopter with everyone else’s dates. Apparently that got lost in translation.”

“Everybodies else’s dates ams alrights, excepts for mines?!” Skwisgaar exclaims, face red. “Could you imagines me, showings up to this withouts ams dates, when Moiderface has one? What ams I supposeds to dos, thirds wheels with f*ckingks Toki?”

“Toki doesn’t have a date, actually,” Charles doesn’t look up at Skwisgaar, and he misses the way the blonde’s eyes flash. Skwisgaar raises an eyebrow, “Whys nots?”

“I figured for the sake of his health, he’d be better off on his own,” Charles says, glancing up at Skwisgaar knowingly. “I’ve actually arranged for the two of you to spend the evening together. You are both dateless, and I’d figure increased comradery is an added bonus. And I—....why are you looking at me like that?”

Skwisgaar could just feel how red his face was. The two of them still hadn’t talked since the acid episode, and now he would have to put his self-restraint issues to the test over a fancy romantic evening. Would this be like a...date? It's been a long time since he’s been on one of those with Toki, and the idea fills him with a weirdly nervous anxiety. Skwisgaar quickly tries to recover as he crosses his arms, tilting his chin up, “Oh greats, insteads of arrivings with a beautiful womans, I have to pals around with Toki the whole night. What ams that even means, you arrangeds its?”

“I seated you next to each other at dinner. Usually I try and spread out the band members to try and avoid any unnecessary group antics. Like Pickles stated a while back, maybe it would be good for you to keep an eye on him.”

“Tchhh,” Skwisgaar crosses his arms as he looks away from Charles, stress and exhaustion rolling in his gut. He used to mean more to Toki than the role of his f*cking babysitter. During the acid episode, Skwisgaar had been asked what he was to Toki. He kept thinking about a way to answer that question, but he found he really didn't know anymore. Logically, he knows it’s not Toki’s fault that his guitar playing invoked a memory of Magnus. But it just hurts so f*cking much. Is that how Toki saw his playing? The equivalent to months of torture? Was it a reflection on—

“There’s also, ah. Well. I suppose you might not be interested in any more surprises, so I’ll let you in on something,” Charles says a bit apprehensively, and Skwisgaar’s eyes narrow. This manager does this to them, sometimes - he’ll hide a detail that he knows the band won’t like, until it’s the last possible second and there’s no getting out of it. “I managed to get you guys out of having to play the gala tonight, as Toki's still clearly not in any shape to perform. But in exchange, you boys are expected to participate in the ceremonial, ah, Dethwaltz. That’s why I was so adamant about you having dates.”

Skwisgaar stares at his manager, left eye twitching. No, he can’t do the f*cking waltz with Toki, there's no way Skwisgaar’s sh*tty self-restraint would hold him back through that dance. The band had to do this at another incredibly fancy occasion, years back when their first album went platinum, and Skwisgaar could remember how romantic the dance gets. He wouldn’t be able to survive it with Toki, and he starts shaking his head violently, ready to spout off every protest in the book, when Charles holds up a hand.

“Skwisgaar,” Charles says firmly, but his expression is soft. “I know you’re upset with Toki. But this is the most vulnerable position he’s very well ever been in. You know if the roles were reversed, he’d take care of you, even if you accidentally hurt him. He’d power through this party with you in the blink of an eye.”

Skwisgaar glares at Charles harshly, shutting his mouth and swallowing down all the protests on his tongue. His manger is right, and Skwisgaar squeezes his eyes shut as he steels himself. He says almost tiredly, “This dancing thing ams f*cked ups. You knows how the paparazzi is with mes and Tokis. They ams goingks to sees us dateless ands sees us dancings togethers and thinks that we ams...”

“Say your date got drunk and is indisposed, and that Toki is filling in for her last minute. Dont worry about it,” Charles waves it off. The media has always been all over him and Toki, speculating a romance between the two of them - one of the biggest theories about why Toki’s been out of sight for so long was that he's trying to keep a low profile before he and Skwisgaar reveal a relationship. If only the fans knew how f*cked up everything behind the scenes actually is.

Charles glances at Skwisgaar carefully, adding, “But then again. And pardon my language. But who, ah, gives a f*ck what anyone else thinks?”

A half-hysterical laughs bubbles out of Skwisgaar’s throat, and he runs a hand through his hair uneasily before shaking it out. He sighs, pinching his temples, “This all ams goingks to kill mes, amnst it?”

Charles gives him his “don’t be so dramatic” look, but before the manager can respond, his phone goes off and he rushes to pick it up. Skwisgaar mutters a ‘goods luck’ to Charles - he knows he’s nervous about tonight, and probably rightfully so - and the blonde strides out of his office with a huff.

In the main area of the bus, the Klokateers are still fussing with the rest of the band to help them get ready. Nathan is glaring daggers as a Klokateer tries to tighten his girdle, Murderface is already chugging a bottle of tequila as he combs his mustache, and Pickles is angrily smoking a joint as he ties his dreadlocks back into a ponytail.The drummer turns away from the mirror he was looking in, and his eyes meet Skwisgaar’s. The two of them just had a conversation that would definitely be deemed un-metal by the rest of the guys, but Skwisgaar was thankful that he can finally confide in someone within the band. Skwisgaar now knows about Pickles’ crush on Nathan (even though it had already been pretty obvious), and Pickles knows about his history with Toki. Skwisgaar hopes he can convey in a look that his secret is safe. When Pickles smiles crookedly back at the blonde, he knows at least someone will be looking out for him tonight.

“Good, Skwisgaar, you’re here. This is the most f*cking important decision we’ll ever make as a group,” Nathan’s eyes narrow seriously. “Here goes. Yes or no - does Toki get to be in the secret Santa this year?”

“NO!” Murderface yells instantly, “How isch he supposed to know what we want? He doeschnt even know us! What if he gets me, and then my f*cking present SUCKSCH?!”

“It ams not his faults if he doesn’t remembors!” Skwisgaar crosses his arms. “You knows Toki loves the secrets Santas. He would kills you if he founds out you excludeds hims.”

“Regular Toki would,” Murderface points at him. “But what isch scoft-brain Toki gonna do? Thisch might be our one chance to get him out of the Santa circle for good!”

“Ims not doings it if Tokis ams not doings it,” Skwisgaar tilts his chin up stubbornly.

“Fine,” Nathan pulls out a notepad, scribbling something down. “Toki’s in. We’ll pick names tomorrow at breakfast.”

Murderface rolls his eyes, “Look, you know what? I don’t even care that Toki’s ruining f*cking Christmas. Wanna know where this easchy-going attitude is coming from? How about because I’m scho happy I’m getting f*cking LAID later! We all are! It’s baschically a schure thing!”

“Yeeeah, whatever,” Pickles grumbles, pouting as he glances at Nathan nervously. “I still don’t know why we need f*ckin’ chicks moochin’ off of us tonight.”

“Yeah, it’s f*cking disgusting,” Nathan grumbles, finally stuffed inside his girdle as he shrugs his suit jacket on. “I’ve said it once, I’ll say it a thousand times. f*ck. This. Gala.”

“Hey, at leascht you get another schot at Abigail!” Murderface winks at Nathan, and the tension in the room instantly spikes up as the lead singer and Pickles both tense. “Sche’s probably gonna schow up in one of thosche hot pantsuit thingsch...maybe sche’ll suck yer dick in the coatroom, dude! Didnt sche do that once when—“

“Noooo, no no no. Nope. f*ck you, Murderface,” Pickles puts his hands over his ears, and Murderface looks between them in total confusion.

“What’d I schay?”

Nathan just pinches his temples, barking out defensively, “Pickles isn’t...uh. A fan of Abigail. But neither am I, so. Nobody’s really thrilled about having to like, hang out with her and sh*t tonight, and—“

“Are you sures I looks okays?” They hear Toki’s voice from down the hall, and the Klokateer accompanying the brunette instantly tells him he looks very handsome. Which Skwisgaar is sure is most likely true - he can remember the way Toki would absolutely melt a room when he’d put the right suit and tie on. His body shouldn’t look as good as it does with in a suit, and-

His body. It suddenly clicks to Skwisgaar why Toki was getting ready in a different room - he didn’t want the rest of the guys to see his scars when he was trying to get dressed. The thought just kills Skwisgaar a little bit inside, and he stares at his hands with anxious eyes. He thinks about those scars every day - wonders what exactly Magnus did to him to put them there, and if he’d really be able to handle it if he got an answer.

“Oooh, Toki. Lookin’ ready to kill, hah?” Pickles leers, and Skwisgaar instantly looks up, color flooding to his face. Toki looks so infuriatingly attractive that it’s almost painful; black suit fitting in all the right places, blue eyes shocking, hair long and smooth and smile hopelessly adorable as he flashes a hopeful one directly at Skwisgaar. Tentatively, Skwisgaar manages to smile back.

“Toki,” Skwisgaar greets him, walking by as he travels to the kitchen, and the brunette is instantly following him at his heels.

“Skwisgaar,” he sounds so eager to see him, with a hint of nervousness in his voice. “Did yous hears the good news? We ams dates tonights! Pallings around with you wills be way betters than havingks to entertainingks some borings lady! I was worrieds about sayins something stupids anyways, and we can drinks and eat desserts and—“

Skwisgaar stops walking, turning to the brunette. He offers another tired smile, “You ams doingks the thing, when yous ams nervous and you donts shuts up.”

“I’m sorries!” Toki blurts, taking Skwisgaar’s hands in his, and the blonde stares at him in surprise. Toki hasn’t grabbed his hands like that in a long time, and his face heats at the contact. “I’m sorries abouts it all, Skwisgaar. I didnst knows you hates that guys, a-and...your guitar playins ams reallies good! Like, the fastest in the woild, right? That’s what Nathans said. You ams sos talenteds, I...I wish I could remembers beins able to plays with yous...”

Skwisgaar sighs, the corner of a sad smile tilting up the end of his lips as he stares upwards, “Sees, if you were all normols, you woulds nevors have complikmenteds mes like thats. It woulds have been ‘you ams not dild*s at guitar, but I ams still way gooders than yous.’”

Toki doesn’t say anything, just looking down their hands. Skwisgaar knows that Toki hates feeling like a disappointment for not being able to remember, and the blonde’s face softens as he watches Toki pinches his temples in what looks like pain.Skwisgaar's voice is softer than he’s heard it in a while. “I’m sorries too. It ams not your faults what you remembors. Pickle ams right, somethings ams bettors than nothings.”

“No needs to be sorries,” Toki swallows, even though he has no idea how much need for apologies there really is. Skwisgaar’s eyebrows raise as Toki winces at nothing, and he shakes his head as he mutters to himself, “Shuts up, don’t says that about Skwisgaar...”

Skwisgaar looks back and forth, just to make sure nobody’s actually there. He has noticed, since Toki’s woken up from the coma, that he talks to himself. Usually it’s just him telling...whatever he’s hearing, to shut up, similarly to how he was talking the night Skwisgaar found him having a nightmare, or when he tore at his own throat in the studio. He knows Toki’s brain has to be all jumbled and whatever, but sometimes he wonders if there’s more to it than that...

Toki snaps back quickly, as he says playfully, “Everybodies says we useds to haves fights all the times, sos I shoulds probablies get useds to you beins mad at me, huh?”

A surprised chuckle bubbles out of Skwisgaar’s mouth. “I almost forgots you haves a sense of humors. Evens if it ams sh*tties as always.”

Toki smiles back, the blue in his eyes dancing like fire, and Skwisgaar’s fingers itch with that old feeling of wanting to kiss Toki but knowing that he has to control himself. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad for them to be dates tonight after all, so long as Skwisgaar keeps himself in check. The blonde’s definitely thankful for the fact that he wasn’t set up by Charles, especially as the bus finally reaches its destination in tandem with the helicopter that carries the other guys’ dates.

“Okay, guys. Let’s try not to f*ck this up, alright? Usually these things, uh. Do not fare well for us, but, I feel like we can do this without, yknow. Offing ourselves. So yeah,” Nathan concludes his pep talk, looking between the other four members of the band. His face softens for a second, to Skwisgaar’s surprise, “This is painfully un-metal of me to say, but, f*ck it. It’s nice, doin’ this all...together, again. All of us.”

“Cheers to that,” Pickles smiles crookedly, and even Skwisgaar feels oddly emotional as the band turns towards the door. It really had been a while since the five of them went on an adventure, and getting out of their living room would be a good change. And honestly, the beginning of the night could’ve went much worse. It seemed that Charles did a pretty good job at matching people up - Murderface has this goth, Amazonian-type woman who won’t stop talking about Civl War-themed demolition derbies, and Pickles has a cute looking stoner chick playing a Gameboy next to him. She’s talking to him, but he’s not really paying attention, as he’s too busy watching Nathan and Abigail greet each other coldly. Nathan, ever the gentleman, still pulls out her chair for her, and Pickles’ left eye twitches as he turns to Toki and Skwisgaar.

“Hey, check this out,” Pickles whispers, opening up his palm. The guitarists peek over in unison, as Pickles holds up a couple colorful tablets. “These babies are how I’m gonna get through this f*ckin’ night. Anybody want some gahddamn molly? Maybe a lil angel dust for dessert?”

Skwisgaar opens his mouth, but he knows there’s no point. He and Pickles just went round and round on this, and the drummer’s not going to give him anything. However, now it’s Skwisgaar's turn to be concerned as he raises an eyebrow, “Are you sures that ams the good ideas, Pickle? You alreadies got your panties ins a twist about Nathans and Abigails...”

“Nahhh, dude. It’s aaalll gooood,” Pickles smiles crookedly at him, tossing the little tablets down his throat and winking before taking his seat next to his date. Toki and Skwisgaar sit down as well - they’re a little ways away from the rest of the band, but far enough where Skwisgaar feels almost a sense of privacy. Murderface and his date are next to Charles, presumably so the manager can keep an eye on him after what happened last dinner, and Pickles, Nathan, and their dates, ended up side-by side. Skwisgaar can’t help but snort - If Charles was trying to avoid drama, why would he put Nathan between Pickles and Abigail?

“These ams free?” Toki asks, lifting up the champagne flute that was already poured and at his seat, eyes sparking eagerly.

“Toki, yous always gets too f*cksed up at these types of things,” Skwisgaar chastises lightly, and he can feel Toki’s eyes on him as he lifts his own glass and takes a small sip. “That’s good sh*ts, though. Expenskives. I wondors how manies—“

“You look sos handsomes,” Toki blurts, and Skwisgaar pauses and looks at him in surprise. The soft, dim lights of the hall above them make Toki look like an angel in all black (he needs to tell Nathan that would be a good name of a song), especially in the way they shine off of the high, huge stain glass windows. Skwisgaar’s face softens at Toki’s gooey expression, as he murmurs with more tenderness than he intends, “So does you.”

Toki’s cheeks color, and he looks like he wants to say something, but suddenly, a reporter jams himself between the two of them, causing the guitarists to jump in surprise.

“Skwisgaar!” The reporter’s camera flashes, capturing Toki and Skwisgaar’s bewildered expressions. “The most beautiful and desired man in the world is attending this event without a date! What’s up with that?”

Skwisgaar feels heat flood his face as he glares at the reporter, reciting the story Charles gave him, “My dates ams indiskposeds right nows. Dranks too much and couldnst make its.”

“Did you and Toki come together? There’s been a rumor that Toki has been out of the public eye for the past year because the two of you started secretly dating!”

Toki isn’t saying anything as he watches curiously, complementary bread in one hand and his already-empty champagne flute in the other. When he hears this, however, Toki’s eyebrows raise, and Skwisgaar’s face catches on fire. Luckily, the reporter keeps bombarding them with questions and unintentionally saves him, “And if you don’t have a date, who’s your partner for the first annual Dethwaltz?”

Skwisgaar clears his throat, trying to sound bored as he waves a hand, “Since my dates ams out of the picktors, Toki ams goings to step in.”

“Reallies?” Toki’s eyes sparkle, as do the reporter’s. “Wowee, I didnst knows we’d get to dance togethers!”

“Toki, where were you for all this time?” The reporter jams his microphone underneath Toki’s face, and the brunette tries to mask his annoyance with politeness, “Ums, I was—“

“The last public appearance you made was at Roy Cornickelson’s funeral! Do you have any comments on his death?”

Toki looks to Skwisgaar helplessly - he has no idea who Roy Cornickelson even is, but before Skwisgaar can butt in, the reporter puts a hand on Toki’s shoulder. “Are you still friends with Magnus Hammersmith? Do you have any idea where he could’ve gone since his disappearance?”

Toki’s body tenses when Magnus’ name is mentioned, and he tries to subtly shrug away the hand on his shoulder. It’s like someone’s trying to light a rage-fueled match behind his eyes, one that if it caught fire, would burn Toki up completely. He blinks, sucking in a breath as he parrots what Charles probably practiced beforehand with him, “I don’ts haves any comments on thats particular subjects.”

“That’s enough questions,” Charles practically materializes behind them, shooing away the reporter before rushing over to Pickles and Nathan. Pickles’s pupils are already hugely dilated as he grins in a devious way, leaned over Nathan and talking some kind of sh*t to Abigail. She looked amused, but also like she might grab Pickles by the dreds at any second. Skwisgaar has to feel bad for Charles, but, the manager did this to himself with the assigned seating.

“Ams yous okays?” Skwisgaar asks, as Toki loosens the collar of his suit just a bit. He knows by now, that strangers getting too close and too nosy with Toki really sets him off. But there almost seems to be an unhinged look in Toki’s eyes as he takes a deep breath and steadies himself.

“That guy ams reallies annoyins, huh?” Toki tries to laugh through his anger, and Skwisgaar looks at him worriedly. Luckily, another drink is delivered, and it doesn’t take long for Toki to down enough expensive champagne to get into one of his funny-tipsy moods. The two of them survive the dinner part of the night without much issue. They chatter amongst each other, and it almost feels like how it used to. They make fun of the different fancy douchebags attending the party, they end up challenging each other to who can subtly throw the most cherry tomatoes at the waiter before he notices. They feel like...friends, almost, and it feels so painfully good that Skwisgaar has to pinch himself several times throughout the night to make sure this isn’t a dream.

“Skwisgaar,” Toki leans next to him as they finish up their dessert. His eyes are on the people casually dancing nearby, “Does you knows the dance Charlie’s ams makins us do?”

“Ja, we had to lorns it a whiles back,” Skwisgaar says flippantly, and he realizes Toki looks anxious, biting him bottom lip as he bounces his leg. “Don’t be sillies, little dild*. Nothings to be norvous about.”

“It amnst hards?”

“Nos, you just haves to follows my leads. Just like whens we plays guitars—er, useds to plays. It ams probablies muscles memories, at this point,” Skwisgaar says, watching the light glow off of Toki’s champagne flute and shimmer in his eyes. Toki catches him looking, and his nervous expression softens a bit, as he asks imploringly, “Did I reallies plays as goods as yous?”

“Nos. I ams the best, but my playingks ams an imposkibles standords to meets,” Skwisgaar instantly says airily. “Even stills, you ams technicallies the woild's second fastest guitarist, because you beats everyone else when I picked yous for the band.”

Toki’s eyebrows raise, eyes sparkling, “You picked mes?”

“Ja. Bigs mistake,” Skwisgaar smiles charmingly, and a similar smile graces Toki’s features. Skwisgaar hasn’t felt this...content, in a long time. He had been dreading this dinner, but it was playing out so nicely for him. Maybe Charles set this all up on purpose, like a grand matchmaker, or something.Speaking of their manager, about twenty minutes later Charles is behind them again, looking stressed as usual with a wine glass cradled in his right hand. “It’s time for the dance. Do either of you know if Pickles...? Took some sort of drug?”

The three of them look over, to see Pickles slamming out drumbeats on the table, laughing and sweaty and dreds falling messily out of the ponytail. His date is tapping along, clearly grooving, and Nathan is glaring jealous daggers at the two of them. Skwisgaar knows Pickles doesn't think Nathan likes him back - but it's so painfully clear that he can't believe the drummer hasn't realized.

“Ja, he tooks the mollies,” Toki chirps, and Charles sharply inhales and pinches his temples.

“One night. That’s all I asked,” he grumbles, shaking his head as he holds up a finger and walks away, off to deal with another problem. Skwisgaar and Toki make their way to the edge of the ballroom floor, watching as the other couples start to come together.Murderface strolls over and stands next to them, his date on his arm. He leans in, so only the guitarists can hear, “This is a schure f*ckin’ deal! I’m totally gettin’ laid tonight, scho don't wait up!”

“Wows, for the forst time in twenties years?” Skwisgaar smirks, and Toki giggles next to him.

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a responsche,” Murderface holds up a hand, glaring at Skwisgaar. “Becausch guessch what? I’m the one with the date, and you’re here by your f*cking schelf.”

“He ams heres with me, Moiderface!” Toki beams, throwing an arm around Skwisgaar, and the blonde really hopes that Murderface can’t see the blush creeping up his cheeks. Thankfully, Murderface merely raises an eyebrow, “Scho that means you two have to do this waltz schit together? Like...do I even have to schay it at this point?”

“Nos, you don’t haves to says it,” Skwisgaar sighs, and Murderface grins crookedly at him before turning back to his date. Pickles and Nathan finally make their way over, dragging their feet and not looking at all eager to participate in this dance. The booze and drugs they're both under the influence of will hopefully help, at least - the drummer’s still high as a kite, and Nathan’s clearly gotten pretty tipsy as well. What with two of them having to do something as un-metal as walzting, while having to watch the person you love dance with someone else, Skwisgaar can’t really blame them for wanting to loosen up a bit beforehand.

“Hey. Have I mentioned,” Nathan glares at the dance floor like it’s something vile, hands stuffed into the pockets of his expensive dress pants. “f*ck this gala.”

“It amnst that bads,” Skwisgaar offers, waving a hand, and he tries to ignore the way Toki beams proudly. “Will be bettors once this stupids f*ckingks dance is over.”

“I hate that I know how to do this,” Pickles glares, eyes blinking in different intervals. “‘Cuz I knew how, before Charles made us learn it. My muthurrrrr made m’take lessons. I’m a f*cking...professional.”

“That’s cute,” Nathan says where he sways next to him, accidentally outloud, and Pickles’ eyebrows raise as Nathan’s face visibly colors.

“Y’know, maybe we should switch, Abigail,” Pickles’ date smirks, sliding a hand up Pickles’ arm, and Nathan’s eyes are trained on it.

“That would be f*cking metal,” Nathan says, again accidentally outloud. His own words register to him, and he scowls deeply, “f*ck. Why do I keep...saying things.”

“Yeah, you should really stop talking,” Abigail pats Nathan’s beefy arm, and she and Pickles’ date laugh together. Skwisgaar can’t help the smile that cracks on his face as Nathan and Pickles try to avoid each other’s eyes - the two of them were so like the early days of himself and Toki, just a little more...emotionally constipated. He hoped maybe he could help them, so they didn’t end up regretting wasted time ten years later. Skwisgaar feels a panging in his chest., because telling Pickles the story of his and Toki's romance really drudged up his feelings of crushing regret. He always felt them, every day, but now it's about six-hundred times worse. The more time he spends with the brunette, the harder it is to be around him. He's happy to be around Toki, but he needs all of him, and then he'd finally be able to tell him that he knows how he feels. Because right now, it isn't fair - the only version of himself that Toki knows now is how Skwisgaar has treated him since he's woken back up. He probably thinks he's just this caring, emotional, soft guitar god who takes care of him. He's called him nice, words that Regular Toki would never speak in a million years, because he knows Skwisgaar better than that. Why did it have to take the absolute worse-case scenario for Skwisgaar to finally realize what he wanted?

The lights dim, and flash a couple times to signal the dance is beginning shortly. Skwisgaar turns, expecting Toki to be next to him - instead, the brunette has been pulled aside by that reporter again, and he’s really starting to look pissed.

“I donts knows,” Toki stresses, hands in a strangling motion, as he tries to move back. The reporter grabs him, keeping him in place, and Toki looks down at his hand on his arm with thinly veiled rage, “I’m tryins to—“

“And when did you and Skwisgaar cross the line, from hate to love?”

Toki’s left eye twitches, voice raising, “We didnst! We ams just friends!”

“But how long have you been sleeping together?”

Toki’s hands are still in the air, looking like he might actually strangle this guy, and Skwisgaar snaps out of it as he rushes over and harshly tugs Toki away from the reporter. Toki is breathily heavily as they go back to their spot in line, and something about him seems...off.

“What ams wrongs?” Skwisgaar asks, hand on Toki’s back.

“The f*ckins reporter ams reallies pissin me off,” Toki breathes raggedly, “I cants even sees straight.”

Skwisgaar looks at Toki’s face, and he’s...mildly shocked. The whites of his eyes have faded to almost red, a couple drops of blood dripping onto the white of the dress shirt underneath his suit. “Jesus, Tokis. Calms down.”

“Nos--! Stop sayins that!" Toki says to presumably the voice in his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “I don’t wants to hurts anyones!”

Skwisgaar just stares at him, swallowing thickly. This...probably is something he needs to tell Charles about. He glances over at Abigail, and his features harden - they need her to tell them what she knows before things start getting more out of control. He rubs his hand against Toki’s back, and the fight slowly starts to drain out of the brunette. Luckily, before they can be bothered anymore, the orchestra begins to play.

“Oh gahd,” Pickles groans, and along with all the other leads, the guys step in front of their dates and bow. They’ve only done this dance one other time, but Skwisgaar remembers how strange it was to see Dethklok acting like...gentleman. Sure enough, Toki is staring at him in surprise, and Skwisgaar can’t tell if his face is flushed from alcohol or something else. The blonde steels himself before stepping forward and gently putting his hands on Toki in the way that he remembered from last time. His left hand locks with Toki’s opposite, his right on Toki’s waist, and blue eyes meet his before he quite literally sweeps them both away.

Toki looks like someone’s hit him over the head, eyes sparkling, as Skwisgaar perfectly sends them sliding across the ballroom floor. He doesn’t take his eyes off Skwisgaar’s, even as the blonde maneuvers them around like it’s second nature to him. Skwisgaar dips him back, earning a small gasp in his ear from Toki, and he's got his usual bored perfectionist expression on his face before he flashes Toki a tiny smile. The brunette instantly melts in his arms, the gooeyest smile blossoming on his face, and Skwisgaar feels his heart pounding in his chest. It’s like the two of them are in their own little bubble, or a snowglobe, just going round and round and unable to take their eyes off of each other.

Skwisgaar was right about the overwhelming romance of the dance - they way they move together is soft, gentle, and classy. Toki’s hand is in his and his body is so close and Skwisgaar tries to focus all his attention on dancing and not his desire to grab Toki by the face and kiss him. And it's hard to resist, especially when their faces come so close, and the tension that’s been rising between them ever since Toki has woken back up feels like it’s heating up to a boiling point. It only gets worse when Skwisgaar steps back, and he raises a hand. Toki seems almost dazed and confused, but he has enough sense to do the right move and put his hand against the blonde’s. They circle around, and Skwisgaar feels like he’s burning alive, especially when they come back together and he pulls Toki flush against him.

“Wowee,” Toki whispers, the lights of the room glowing softly in his eyes, and Skwisgaar sees it. He sees the adoration on Toki’s face, and it throttles him. Even though Toki doesn’t know him, his love for Skwisgaar must’ve stayed - his face gives it all away.

“Toki,” Skwisgaar murmurs so quietly, voice fragile. “Tells me you remembors this. Betweens us.”

“I remembers somethins abouts the feelin,” Toki whispers back, eyes the same shade of desperate they were in the recording studio all those years ago. It was like what Toki told him, the night where Skwisgaar saw his scars - “I can feels somethins that didn’ts go aways.” No matter what Toki's been through, their feelings have transcended tragedy. Maybe it's the kind of love, that follows you through lifetimes, and Skwisgaar thinks about the night before the funeral when he held his hand up to knock, and walked away instead. On the hand of Toki’s he’s holding, his thumb skims over the scar on the back of his knuckles, as his cheek rests against the side of Toki’s head.

"I hopes I finds my ways backs to beins the Toki you ams lovins," Toki whispers, nuzzling against Skwisgaar's blonde locks. "He ams a lucky guys."

"He woulds probablies disagrees," Skwisgaar can't help but chuckle, and even though Toki's right here in his arms he's never missed him so much. He remembers the rare occasions where Toki would accidentally fall asleep in his bed and Skwisgaar would let himself be cuddled close. Toki's the only person he's ever let hold him like that, and he'd never admit to how much his heart aches for that feeling again. Dancing with him feels familiar, in that sense, and it nearly sends tears glimmering down Skwisgaar's face. He controls himself, though, and his voice is almost inaudible as he says softly, "Like I saids in the hoskpitals, when you forst woke ups. I'll waits. I'll always bes waitings."

Toki pulls back and stares at him with that pure adoration again, and it suddenly hits Skwisgaar that he might not be the only one having self-restraint issues. He knows Toki's "I reallies want to kiss yous" face from firsthand experience, and seeing it again sends a sparkling warmth blossming through his chest. Toki's hand cups his face, suddenly, fingers tracing his cheekbones in the exact same way he used to, and Skwisgaar feels those tears threaten to fall from his eyes again. But then, the moment shatters before his very eyes. The adoration drains out of his face, replaced with something akin to a hurt confusion. His eyes shift a bit nervously, and Skwisgaar watches as a drop of blood rolls down his cheek and drips onto the ballroom floor beneath them. He whispers, more to himself than anyone, "Bes quiets, Skwisgaar woulds never does that."

Skwisgaar looks left and right, anxiety rolling over him, and he's still swaying the two of them around as he asks faintly, "Does whats?"

"Skwisgaar, you don't wants to knows. I know it's not trues, I--"" Toki shakes his head, looking guilty, and it f*cking breaks Skwisgaar's heart because it probably is true.

His voice has more force to it, as he demands, "Does whats?"

Toki looks almost ashamed, as he squeezes his eyes shut, and confesses, "The voice keeps sayins...this ams your faults, that I can't remembers anythins. It ams sayins you left mes, and..."

He trails off. They're still dancing, but the blonde feels like his legs could give out at any second. He's always been terrified, that Toki would remember the bad before the good - he's had no flashes of their romantic past, but the worst memories seem to be the ones fighting their way to the forefront. Skwisgaar doesn’t f*cking understand. He doesn’t get why something that should invoke good memories, like Skwisgaar’s guitar playing or the two of them having a moment, keeps bringing bad ones. Toki used to love him. Even if he didn't anymore, even if he got over Skwisgaar, he'd never compartmentalize those memories as bad ones. Their time as "benefit friends" wasn't as long as it should've been, but it very well may have been the best time of both of their lives. Something is f*cking messing with Toki's mind, and Skwisgaar is sure of it.

"I'm sorries," Toki squeezes his eyes shut, unable to look at the heartbreak on Skwisgaar's face anymore, as a drop of blood drips onto the blonde's white suit. "It doesn’t makes any sense...”

Skwisgaar can deal with his own pain later - like Charles said, his top priority is to get Toki through this night, so he quickly tries to wipe the blood from under Toki’s eyes before somone sees. Toki just shakes his head, looking guilty, "Skwisgaar, you don't have to--"

"Yes, I does," Skwisgaar says impassively, trying to swallow down any emotion in his voice as he gently takes Toki by the arm. “We needs to get yous to the bathrooms, before the reporters see you bleeingks.”

Luckily, said reporter is busy taking pictures of Nathan and Abigail, so Skwisgaar guides them both into the bathroom. He watches Toki lean over the sink, eyes squeezed shut and hand over his mouth, and Skwisgaar lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

“f*cks!” Toki slams his hands on the sink, blood dripping into the banister, and Skwisgaar flinches. “I’m not f*ckins hurting anyone!”

“Toki,” Skwisgaar tries to keep his voice level, and fails miserably as it crakcs. “Ams there...someones else ins your heads with you?”

Toki instantly is nodding, and when he turns around, the whites of his eyes are red again and he looks utterly, mentally f*cked. His eyes shift back and forth, “He ams always tellins me to hurts people, and he wants me to ruins the galas, and that’s why he’s beins so louds, but I knows how much this night means to Charlies...”

Skwisgaar has no idea what this means - but he knows someone who might. He’s gonna get some f*cking answers from Abigail tonight, because Toki might not make it much longer otherwise.

Just as Nathan expected, this gala could be summarized in two words: not brutal.

Nathan was...not enjoying Pickles’ date. Not really at all, actually. Sure, on the outside, it looked like Charles had picked a perfect girl for the drummer. She played drums too, apparently, as she wouldn’t shut the f*ck up about it. Seemed nice, smelled like blunts, had kind of a hot grungy look to her....and Nathan f*cking hated her. But it seemed Pickles didn’t really give a f*ck about her either, because all he was doing was keeping an eye out on Nathan and picking fights with Abigail. In all honestly, it was kind of funny, but also really f*cking annoying to be sitting between. Luckily, Nathan had old reliable - an open bar, and a flask of tequila hidden in the pocket of his coat.

He and Abigail danced the f*cking waltz together. It was annoying, and kind of...weird, being that close to her again, but it wasn’t that terribly awkward, because Nathan was too busy watching Pickles. The guy was a goddamn waltz master - he had taken lessons as a kid, and he was really f*cking good at it. His date looked like she had actual stars in her eyes as Pickles swept her off her feet, and that was enough to keep Nathan irritated and closed off for the entirety of the dance.

“And thets why, bein’ a producer is for f*ckin’ losers,” Pickles concludes, head lolling and a crooked grin on his face where the four of them now sit at the bar. It registers to Nathan that since Pickles is leaning over him again to talk to Abigail, he’s got one hand on Nathan’s leg to keep himself propped up. His fingers scratch against Nathan’s thigh unthinkingly, and Nathan starts to feel a little...weird. Like, hot around the collar weird, maybe, and he thinks about how warm Pickles was in his arms last night, and how hot he looked f*cking waltzing like a pro, and his brain starts to feel like it’s short-circuiting.

“Hm. Sounds reasonable to me,” Abigail chuckles, chin in her hand, as Pickles takes a big gulp from his champagne flute and stands up.

“I’ve gahtta...take a piss,” he announces. He puts on hand and each of Nathan’s shoulders, and leans forward and smooshes their cheeks together, “Y’gonna be okay while I’m gone, Nate? You’ve had a looootta molly.”

Nathan blushes madly, voice a deep growl as his shoulders tense underneath Pickles’ dainty hands, “That’s you who’s had too much molly, Pickles.”

His drummer merely pats his shoulders lovingly, then f*cks off to the bathroom. Nathan idly hopes he doesn’t get lost or something and leave him sitting here awkwardly. As previously stated, Nathan f*cking hates group silence.

“Wow. Pickles is...” his date chuckles, shaking her head. “He’s—“

“He’s what? A goddamn delight? Good at smashing the sh*t out of some drums? Yes and f*cking yes,” Nathan says, still feeling pretty wasted, and not about to let this girl talk sh*t on his best friend. Instead, however she surprises him.

“He is so into you,” the stoner chick’s eyes meet Nathan’s, and he reels back in his chair like he’s been slapped.

“Wh—? Who the, uh. Who the f*ck are you talking to,” He asks, looking left and right in absolute confusion, and he hears Abigail laugh beside him. He turns to her swiftly, “What’s so funny?”

“I mean, why else do you think the band broke up over me, Nathan?” Abigail raises an eyebrow at him in amusem*nt. “The two of you both barely even knew me. You really think Pickles getting that angry about us hooking up wasn’t a small part of a bigger issue?”

Nathan just stares at her for what feels like forever, and he feels like someone just reached into his skull and ripped out his hazy brain in handfuls. “I don’t....I’m not following.”

Abigail chuckles again, asking in almost disbelief, “He never told you?”

Nathan merely shakes his head, eyebrow arching as he demands, “Told me what.”

“You really wanna know?”

Nathan glowers at her, slurring, “You keep enough sh*t secret from this band. f*cking tell me.”

“Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Abigail holds her hands up, looking so goddamn amused, and Nathan sucks in a breath through his teeth. He could only remember a handful of times where Pickles and Abigail interacted. Nathan, meanwhile, spent every goddamn day with the guy. What information could she possibly have that he doesn't?

“Pickles was in the studio once, when Toki first went into the coma and Charles wanted me to try and engineer some new content for the fans. We couldn’t get anything done because he was wasted, of course,” Abigail rolls her eyes, chin in her palm. “You came in in the middle of the session and started trying to bother me. You kissed me at the control console for so long that Pickles threw his drumsticks at the plexiglass.”

“I remember,” Nathan grumbles, looking away, because he does remember that. It was right in the middle of when everything was as it’s worst point - Skwisgaar was only a couple weeks away from OD’ing, Pickles was a nervous wreck, and Murderface was being even more of a dick than usual. Nathan just wanted some goddamn affection from anyone, before he blew his depressed brains out. But he wished he had known he was looking for it in the wrong place, because one other key event was about to happen, and Nathan’s tipsy enough to acknowledge it, “That was right before you, uh. Oh yeah, f*cking broke up with me.”

“Mmhm,” Abigail nods. “Keep listening. You walked out of the studio. I look back up at Pickles, and he’s drunk-crying his f*cking eyes out. To summarize, he told me to step aside so he could be with you. Said he’s been in love with you since he was ‘wearing spandex and eyeliner’ and he had 'first dibs.' Of course, I told him it wasn’t happening.”

Nathan just stares at her, face unreadable. She continues, “But then. Later that night, you fell asleep on the couch after we watched we watched a movie. I got up, went to the kitchen to get some water. And you know what’s funny?” Abigail smiles a bit sadly at Nathan, who stares back like a deer in headlights. “I didn’t even think about waking you up, or even throwing a blanket over you. But when I came back, Pickles had a blanket around your shoulders and his arm around your back as he tried to help you get to bed. He walked you all the way from the living room to the bottom floor of Mordhaus just to get you tucked in.”

Nathan feels a weird, foreign feeling rise in his throat and burn behind his eyes. He just keeps staring at Abigail, and she just keeps talking, “You guys had already lost so much, with Toki. And I wanted to move on from the memories of what being involved with Dethklok brought anyways, so. I broke up with you. I don’t know. We both know you never looked at me the way you looked at him.”

“Pickles is my best f*cking friend,” Nathan’s voice is a choked-off growl, black fingernails digging into his own knees. “He just...he doesn’t...”

"He does, Nathan." Abigail chuckles again, and Nathan feels his face heat even before she says what she does next, “You even said it yourself, at the funeral - you didn’t want me, if it meant you couldn’t have him. I decided to be the bigger person and step aside.”

And then Pickles stumbles back into the room, the smell of weed wafting around him as he sits back in his chair. Nathan’s sitting stiff as a board, his whole world feeling really f*cking shaky around him as he tries to look anywhere but Pickles. Even as the shotgun kiss flashes through his mind, and even when an image of Pickles as a young, feral rockstar who cuddled him for warmth every night practically throttles him. Even last f*cking night, snuggling him felt so perfect, just like it did back then, and Nathan bites his bottom lip so hard it nearly splits. There’s no way Pickles has feelings for him. And especially not since he was fresh out of Snakes ‘n Barrels. Is Abigail just f*cking with him, or—

“You okey, Nate?” Pickles’ breath is hot in his ear, and his hand finds its place back on Nathan’s leg, and Nathan shoots up from his chair so fast and it nearly gives them all whiplash.

“I, uh. Need some chips.” Nathan gets the f*ck out of there, rushing down the long hallway and pushing his way through the first door he sees. Hell yes, the f*cking coatroom, nobody’s gonna come in here and witness his gay crisis. Even though he’s not gay, he doesn’t f*cking like Pickles like that, and Pickles doesn’t like him. He might be grungy and hot and hilarious and the best friend that Nathan’s ever had, but—

But it could ruin everything. It could ruin his f*cking band. He already lost Pickles once, and it was a f*cking nightmare trying to live without him. It almost broke Dethklok up for good. Fifteen years, they've been friends, and that's a long f*cking time to invest in something just to risk it all on a whim. Nathan usually takes whatever the f*ck he wants, but this, this he can’t just—

“Nate?” Pickles is staring at him, halfway into the coatroom, and Nathan’s back hits the hall as he instinctively steps away from his drummer. He sounds so f*cking concerned as he asks, “Why’d you run ahff like thet?”

Pickles closes the door behind him, coming closer, and Nathan swallows, trying not to look at Pickles’ lips, trying not to imagine ferociously kissing him, trying not to imagine grabbing him and—

“Helloooo? Earth to Nathan,” Pickles waves a hand in front of his face, and f*ck, he does the thing. The crooked smile that he always does, and it shouldn’t be this hot, “Did you steal some of my molly, dude? You freakin’ out?”

Nathan swallows nervously, “I, uh. I am, I’m freakin’ out...so, just st-stay back...”

“Cahlm down, big guy. Jesus, c’mere.” Pickles comes to him, instead, and hugs him. His thin arms loop as much of the way around Nathan’s middle as they can, and Nathan can hear his own uneven breathing as Pickles’ head settles right over his heart. “Is it that f*ckin’ bitch? Women are like that, Nate. They get up in yer f*ckin’ head.”

“No. I mean yes, but uh, it’s not...” Nathan trails off, shaking his head but unsure what the hell to say. “Pickles. We’re hugging in a closet. This is kind of...weird, isn’t it?”

Pickles doesn’t say anything for a couple beats, and Nathan can practically feel his body thrumming against him with nervous energy. He sucks in a breath of air, “Actually, I, ahh...wanted to talk to you about somethin’. Uhhm.”

Oh. Oh god, Pickles must be able to feel Nathan’s heart absolutely pounding, and he might be an idiot and he might still be drunk but he thinks he knows exactly what Pickles is going to say before the words even come out. “It’s...well, fer a long time, I...” Pickles pulls back to look at him, and his face is burning red and his pupils are still huge as he tries to gesticulate his point. “I. Y’know. Y’know that you’re, uh, haht. But, but that's not why I—“

“Pickles,” Nathan’s voice sounds hoarse to his own ears, “I’m—“

“Just shud up and kiss me, dude.” Pickles’ rough hands slide up his face, and he leans in to lay one on him, and Nathan Explosion usually prides himself on being generally unshakeable. But he freaks the f*ck out. He grabs Pickles by his shoulders, and he holds him out at arms length, stopping the kiss. It takes Pickles a couple seconds to register what happened, and then he stares at Nathan like the guy just shot him. The lead singer sees the moment that the panic sets in - Pickles’ eyes widen, and he twitches violently, before he starts laughing way too loudly.

“I gotcha, dude! f*ck! Yer too f*ckin’ easy!” Pickles laughs, but it’s choked, and nervous, and Nathan starts shaking his head, wanting to tell his friend he doesn’t have to do this, but Pickles keeps going, “I was just pallin’ around, dude. And I’m suuuuuper high on all this molly. So, yeeah. Okey, good talk. Y-You wanna let me down?”

He looks like he’s gonna f*cking cry, his very kissable bottom lip wobbling, and f*ck! Bad Nathan, stop thinking about kissing Pickles! There’s so many things Nathan wants to say, but he’s always been so f*cking inelegant when it comes to...words, so he just kind of stares at Pickles, and what manages to slip out is, “Did you, uhhhhhh. Did you say I was, um....hot.”

“No,” Pickles instantly says, green eyes darting around. “Nope. I did naht say thet, Nathan, I—“

"I mean. We can't f*cking--" Natahn gesticulates, and Pickles is nodding along with him violently. "We can't, like. Do this. This band already has enough problems."

"Ohhhh no no no, yeah, I know. Tohtally agree, dude, like I said, I was just kiddin'," Pickles is still shaking his head, talking too fast and starting to get all shaky, and Nathan's still holding him for some godforsaken reason. He can't bring himself to let go, even though he's telling Pickles they can't do this, and it's like he can practically hear his little angel/devil consciences on his shoulder. "You're the f*cking seventh top financial power in the world, you should be able to take what you want, and you f*cking want Pickles," versus, "Your band already has one foot in the grave, you and Pickles just finally got back to normal, and you can't afford to risk this." He has no f*cking idea which one to listen to, and he feels like someone's tearing him apart from the inside out. And he realizes, faintly, that Pickles is still talking, eyes teary and foot tapping nervously, "--and I meant it in like, a dudes kind of way! Like, like when Me 'n Tony, we--"

"Ugh! Don't talk about that f*cking dickhe*d," Nathan snarls, and Pickles' eyebrows shoot up into his hairline and his mouth shuts pretty f*cking quick. Nathan is generally a pretty jealous person, and thinking about Pickles dating a band member who isn't him is the most un-metal thought to ever cross his mind. But at the same time, the idea of dating is f*cking gross, and acting jealous definitely betrays his whole "we can't do this" thing.

"Okey, okey, just--the moral of the f*ckin' story is, I'm sahrry, fer jokin' around, so just let me go, and we can pretend this never happened," Pickles promises, and his face betrays his words because a couple tears are flittering down his face, and Nathan wants to thumb them away. Or kiss them, and Nathan squeezes his eyes shut as he drops his grip on the drummer's arms.

"Pickles," Nathan tries again, taking a step closer as the drummer takes another one back. "Listen to me. I've lost so f*cking much ever since the funeral. All of Toki's sh*t, Skwisgaar f*cking overdosing...we haven't played a show in a goddamn year. But I got you back, that day, and I can't...I'm not..."

Pickles stares at him, looking so vulernable and scared and Nathan scowls and as his eyes meet the drummer's green ones, "I'm not f*cking strong enough to lose you again."

"Nate..." Pickles whispers, and it's like Nathan loses any and all self-control as he suddenly grabs Pickles by the face and kisses him. Pickles makes a squeaky, muffled noise of shock, face absolutely flaming underneath Nathan’s palms, and he instantly grabs Nathan by the lapels of his suit and kisses him back with an intensity that throws Nathan for a f*cking loop. There's a f*cking tongue stud in his mouth and calloused hands on his face and dreadlocks tangled in his hands, and he can't--they can't--

Nathan breaks the kiss as quick as he started it, breathing uneven, and he has no f*cking idea what he wants or what’s going on. Pickles is breathing unevenly as he stares at him, face flushed, looking terrified and confused. Nathan doesn't know what the f*ck to do so he just turns and walks out, face on fire and lips tingling. He can’t believe he just f*cking impulsively kissed Pickles and then walked the f*ck out without a word, after just saying that they couldn't do that. Because they couldn't do that, even though it's so f*cking good that it actually hurts.

Nathan gets closer to the ballroom, deep in his thoughts as he walks down the long hallway - and that's when he hears it. Skwisgaar yelling. He freezes, a terrible kind of feeling pouring over him as he rushes through the threshold. Straight off the bat, he can see Abigail and Murderface doing their best to hold Skwisgaar back, who’s yelling for Toki to "stops it, Toki, please!" and Nathan has to crane his head to see the rest of the scene.

Toki is completely slicked in blood, big gobs of it clinging to the eternal blackness of his ruined suit. He has the reporter from earlier by the sides of his head, bringing it down hard over and over against his knee. “You wants me to hurts someones? I’ll f*ckins kills this guy!”

Skwisgaar looks absolutely horrified, still trying to push his way through, and before he can rush over, Nathan’s at his side and shoving him back. When Toki gets like this, there’s really no stopping him, and Skwisgaar would throw himself into the action just to try and get Toki to knock it off. Charles is speaking rapidly to someone on his phone, party guests are starting to freak out, and everything is falling apart. Pickles walks back in, still looking flustered and confused, but he rushes over to the scene and his stupid (okay, she's kind of cool, but Nathan still hates her) date starts filling him on what happened. He glances over at Nathan, whose eyes instantly snap away.

“What the f*ck is going on?” Nathan demands, attention back on the scene, and if Toki beating the sh*t out of this guy wasn’t so metal, he’d have looked away from all the gore by now. But that's what it is - just a goddamn gorefest, because Toki's practically tearing this guy apart. It's not like the last time, at the Snakes 'n Barrels concert. This is f*cking animalistic, in the most brutal type of way, and it's...it's just not Toki.

“Thisch reporter kept shovin' Toki around, and he freaked the f*ck out!” Murderface exclaims. “If thisch messches with me getting pusschey tonight, I swear to GOD—“

“Nathans, it ams nots just abouts the reporter botheringks him. I think there ams somethingks seriouslies wrongs with Toki,” Skwisgaar clutches desperately at the arm Nathan has thrown in front of him. Nathan watches the brunette smash the reporters face against the floor, and that’s when he gets a glimpse at Toki’s face. Blood running down his cheeks, whites of his eyes red, teeth bared in an animalistic rage.

“Have Toki’s eyes always been that...color. What the f*ck,” Nathan squints, an unsettling feeling rattling through him, and Skwisgaar’s head is rapidly shaking.

“That’s what I ams tellingks you,” Skwisgaar says, voice as serious as Nathan’s ever heard it. “Toki keeps rememboringks only the bad things, but ams triggered by good things, like my guitars playing, and...I thinks someone ams mansipulatings his heads. He says someones else ams in there with him.”

Abigail’s breath hitches next to them. Her eyes are wide as she stares at Skwisgaar. “Oh my god. That’s exactly what he said to me, when we were still with Magnus.”

“Someone else? Who the f*ck else could it be?” Nathan stresses, voice grating. "I mean, that f*cking clown did say he thought maybe it could've been someone besides Magnus, but...he's also a f*cking idiot, so. I wasn't sure what to do with that information."

“I-I don’t know, Toki told me he thought someone was in his head,” Abigail says. “He was hearing this voice.”

“Ja! He tells me he ams hearings the voice in his heads!” Skwisgaar points at her, starting to shake nervously. "It's been extras bads todays..."

“f*ck,” Abigail puts her head in her hands, shaking her head. Her eyes land on Toki, his messy hair and his bloody fists and over-tired bloodshot eyes, and she sighs as she pinches the bridge of her nose. “f*ck it. I’ll tell you guys everything, if we can get to a place with a TV and an HDMI cable.”

“Thanks f*ckings gods! It ams abouts times,” Skwisgaar hisses, flinching as Toki shoves the reporter’s face against the floor in a particularly hard stomp. Abigail turns to the blonde swiftly, glaring, “Skwisgaar, I don’t really like you that much. However, I wasn’t just protecting Toki, keeping the story from you guys. This is going to f*ck you up.”

Skwisgaar swallows, hands tightening on Nathan’s arm. “We needs to knows hows to fix hims. I can handles it.”

“No,” Abigail sighs sadly at him. “You won’t be able to, once you see what I have to show you. But you’re right - you need to know exactly what you’re up against.”

Somehow, as Toki flatly snaps the reporter's neck, Nathan has a feeling they're not f*cking ready to hear this.

Charles has learned, you have to be crafty to get things done. There's no way he would've been able to keep Dethklok in line, fake his own death, rescue Toki, or do any of the things that fall under his managerial line of duty without playing a little...dirty. He needed to find an unorthodox way to get Abigail to tell them what she knows, all while getting Dethklok back into the industry. He also saw the frustration that was tearing at the seams of the band - Pickles and Nathan trying to dance around their feelings for each other, and Skwisgaar trying to grapple with his love for Toki, who's falling for him all over again. He needs to get everything back on track. So, what does Charles do? He orchestrates a gala.

He tells Toki it would be better for him to be dateless (which was true, he could've easily slipped up), and he manages to convince Skwisgaar that his date - who never really existed - exploded in a plane crash. Skwisgaar and Toki end up getting to spend a romantic evening together, and Charles really thought volunteering the boys for the waltz would really push the lovelust over the edge. Making Abigail and Nathan attend the gala together, he figured, would definitely speed things along for Pickles and Nathan as well. He seats said love triangle together, banking on Pickles either getting so riled up he admits his feelings, or Abigail doing it for him. He knows his boys better than they know themselves, and he's proud of the way things are going as he watches Toki and Skwisgaar on the ballroom floor, and Pickles practically chase Nathan to the coatroom together to hopefully discuss their feelings and not do anything obscene near Charles' expensive coat. They might not be where they need to be yet, but it's definitely progress. Things need to get bad, before the boys get their happy ending. He'll keep working on it.

Toki beating the reporter wasn't premeditated, but it actually ended up helping his case. He didn't even need to show Abigail his brain scans before she cracked. Which, if he had, she'd see a thick, oozing blackness, coating the hippocampus, the neo-cortex and the amygdala - the parts of the brain that specifically deal with memory. Charles didn't understand the scans, but to him, it looked...almost like sabotage. Like someone intentionally had gone into Toki's head, and slathered specific sections of his brain with darkness. Everyone who witnessed Toki beat the reporter would undergo a...seminar, in which their silence would be ensured. He didn't plan for Toki to go as...ballistic as he did, but it still got his point across to Abigail that leaving Toki to his own devices was a dangerous move.

Now, he walks with the boys and Abigail to the Hatredcopter. They need to get back to Mordaus, and they need to get answers tonight.

It won't be long now, until Charles can finally f*cking do his job again, and save his band.

Chapter 9: die for you

Chapter Text

"Hmm. Well isn't this interesting," Magnus tosses a wallet on the ground, waving something in front of his face, and Toki's bloody hands desperately reach to grab it. "Looks like Dethklok really likes f*cking their rhythm guitarists. We should know, right?"

Toki doesn't understand what he's saying, doesn't understand why he's back in this green-tinted basem*nt again, and he hears himself whimper, "Gives it backs, Magnus...it's all I gots lefts of hims..."

"Oh my god," Magnus rolls his eyes. "You realize if Skwisgaar cared that much about you, he'd have found you by now. Or started looking."

He shakes his head, and his vision swims. It's not true, it's not true, Skwisgaar is coming for him, he wouldn't leave him here--

"I mean. Do you think you're special? You and I both have had the same position in the band - and how easy was I to replace?" Magnus shakes his head, eyes red-rimmed as he drops whatever he was waving in front of Toki. It's perfectly out of reach, but Toki still strains against his collar to try and get it back. He can see it, from where he stretches - it's a picture, of Skwisgaar. He doesn't look like a rockstar, or like a sassy, perfectionist guitar god - he's ankle-deep in the ocean, the colors of the sunset painting him in beautiful oranges and pinks, and he's smilng. A real, genuine smile, and his hair is blowing behind him in perfect beachy waves. The minute Toki lays his eyes on it, he's crying. Big, ugly sobs, and Magnus just stares at him coldly, as he continues, "They don't care about anyone but themselves. You're here crying over them, and they're on the beach somewhere getting sh*tfaced."

Toki doesn't bother arguing, but he feels in his heart that what Magnus is saying isn't true. He just shakes his head, still clawing for the picture, as Magnus raises an eyebrow. "I've known Skwisgaar for a long f*ckin' time, my man. You know how nothing can keep him interested. He's been in about a krillion bands, screws through stadiumfulls of groupies like wildfire every day and it still isn't enough. What makes you think you can be permanent to someone who's never had a single f*cking constant? He's an opportunist, a perfectionist. If something better came along, he'd snatch that up instead, and you'd be gone. Wanna know how I know?"

Magnus pulls his own wallet out of his pocket. He flashes Toki a glimpse of an old, worn picture - a wild redhead, standing in thigh-high boots and latex pants at a microphone. He's flicking off the camera, crooked grin on his face and a drunken love in his eyes.

"Pickle?" Toki squints, looking up at Magnus in confusion, "Buts..."

"You gotta come back," Magnus rests his chin in his hands, and suddenly, his voice starts to warp. "You gotta come back, dude."

He slaps him in the face, and Toki pulls at the collar around his neck, trying to get away, trying to get his picture back, trying--

"Toki!" Another slap in the face. "Gahddamn, dude! How many times do I gahtta do this?"

Toki's eyelashes flutter open, and suddenly, he realizes he's not down in the basem*nt anymore. He's standing somewhere else, with soft, twinkly lighting, and the warped sound of screaming mixing with a ballroom orchestra pounding through his head. Well, he was standing, as now he's falling forward, legs giving out and head feeling like it's full of cotton. What had happened to his perfect date night? He had been so thrilled when he found out he'd have Skwisgaar all to himself for a night, and he had been hoping he'd get some answers about their past together. He remembers Skwisgaar holding him close, the glittering lights of the ballroom dancing in the ocean of his eyes, blood dripping on a white suit…

"Ooof! f*ck, dude! Yer heavy," Pickles struggles to hold him up, and Toki doesn't have enough strengh to keep his feet from buckling. He gets a glimpse at his hands, and he's shocked to see they're coated in so much blood that they look black. Was that all from his eyes? "f*ck! You gonna f*ckin' help me, Nate?"

"sh*t, sorry," Nathan's voice rumbles as giant hands grab him with a surprising softness, and then he's gently hefted over the frontman's shoulder. "I got him."

Toki's eyes slide closed again, and Pickles is lightly smacking him in the cheek as they start to rush away, "Hey, buddy, come ahn. Stay awake, alright? f*ck, we gotta get ouhtta here. Where's Charlie?"

He forces his eyes back open to see Skwisgaar standing there, hair a mess, eyes huge, and he looks broken. Miserable, like someone separated his heart from his body, and now he's just ghosting on autopilot. Toki wants to reach out and make it better, like Skwisgaar has for him so many times since he's woken up without an idea of who he is, and why would Magnus have said that in the memory? Skwisgaar seems like he cares about him, like he loves him--

Skwisgaar stands outside the tour bus, snow fluttering around him like a snowglobe, and Toki suddenly feels like he's being crushed with heartbreak. He's never felt pain like this in his life before - it's the feeling of crippling, devastating rejection, and it swallows him whole. The blonde's voice is unsteady, unreciprocating, and dangerously shaken, "Once I gets back on the bus, this conkvorsatioms nevors happeneds. You didn’t tells me anythingks. Gots it?”

He gasps, flashing back to reality, but the feeling that he just had his heart shattered stays with him. It hurts so bad, and he clutches to Nathan's shirt, a miserable sob wretching from his throat as he gasps, "Whuh--Whuts ams happenins?"

"We'll tell ya on the Hatredcopter, dude," Pickles promises. "Just--hey, stay awake! I see you nahddin' off there!"

"I needs that pictures back..." Toki whimpers, trying to will himself to reach for a vision of the Polaroid that swims in front of his vision. "Pickle, he hads ones of yous..."

"Hah?" Pickles's confused voice crackles through his ears like lightning, and a splitting headache gouges temple to temple. "I know Murderface keeps that signed picture of me under his pillow from my Snakes 'n Barrels days, but--"

Nathan's head instantly whips to Pickles in alarm, "He what?"

"f*ck you, Picklesch! You schmug piece of schit! It was a f*cking gift from you, I'm not juscht gonna throw it away!" Murderface's voice yells defensively from somewhere behind him.

"Noes...ams Magnus," Toki whispers, watching the blood from his eyes drip down the blackness of Nathan's shirt. "He hads a pictures..."

Nathan tenses, fingers twitching on Toki's back, and if his eyes were open he'd sure he'd definitely see Pickles stiff as a board. As usual, he's said something wrong, but he doesn't care enough to try and make it better. Maybe that's what his place in the band is - just an annoying screw-up. That sounds more realistic to him than being this death metal shredding prodgidy, who was wildly rich and had friends who cared for him unconditionally and a beautiful blonde guitar god who was hopelessly in love with him. That just wasn't realistic - that couldn't have been his life. No version of him could possibly deserve that.

"Abigails," Toki whispers, voices reverbating through his head, his brain feeling like it's melting out of his eyes. She stares back at him, in shock and confusion, head shaking. "You can'ts tells Skwisgaar whuts happeneds...not evers, you haves to swears..."

"How are you here?" Abigail breathes, tears pricking the edges of her eyes. "What did they do to you?"

When he blearily opens his eyes again, maybe fifteen minutes have passed - they're outside of the ballroom, Charles' voice sounding faraway as he quickly demands that the Klokateers bring the Hatredcopter around front, and Skwisgaar's hands are on either side of his face. "Tokis, I swears to Odins, if you goes into a f*ckingks comas agains I'll porsonally wakes you ups withs a guitars ups your ass," Skwisgaar's voice sounds distorted in his ears, his beautiful, golden face tilting at an odd angle to try and get into his line of vision, and it's the last thing he sees before he drifts back out of consciousness.

"Eugh. This ams stupids," Skwisgaar's face is soft, hair tied up in a messy, high bun; one of his arms hanging over the sides of a bathtub, the other holding a flute of champagne. He's surrounded by bubbles, candelight bouncing off his face as he tries to sound annoyed but betrays himself with a smile, "Whys ams we doesing this agains? Didns't takes yous to bes all romantickals."

It should be a good memory. But Toki knows it isn't - he remembers the feeling of longing so intense that it practically strangled him, in that moment. The feeling of a dark, jealous frustration, as he knew Skwisgaar would be on stage in a few hours pretending not to care about him, and he'd be rolling in a bed of groupies in just a few more. He was on the brink of happiness, but he couldn't reach out and take it. It felt like it was his, but he didn't stand a chance. That seemed to be a pattern, with Skwisgaar. Toki was so close to breaking through, but the blonde always kept himself right out of grasp. Maybe Magnus was right.

When he drifts back in, the Hatredcopter is landing back at Mordhaus. There's an unsettling, ominous thickness to the air, and everything feels wrong. Nathan and Pickles aren't looking at each other. Skwisgaar is nowhere to be seen. Murderface is bothering Charles as he makes what looks to be yet another stressful phone call. Dethklok isn't falling apart - it's too late. It's already broken beyond repair, and nobody wants to admit it.

The voice whispers in his ear. "Skwisgaar will have a new guitarist in seconds flat, one better than you ever could've been. You can't keep them in limbo like this forever. You're poisoning the band."

Toki squeezes his eyes shut, and he wishes he could be left alone with his own thoughts for just a second, without hearing that rapsy, ominous voice. He forces himself to ignore it, as he groggily looks over to where Pickles and Nathan sit, "Whuts happeneds, at the gala?"

The two of them look between each other uneasily, and Pickles takes a deep breath before shakily exhaling. Somehow, the idea of him f*cking the gala up doesn't surprise him. Toki looks down at the thick globs of blood coating his hands, and the tears are rolling before Pickles even starts to speak.

"Alright, dude. But I don't think yer gonna like whet I'm gonna tell you."

Pickles sits uneasily on the couch, back in the safeness of Mordhaus' living room, and the tension is thick in the air as a Klokateer connects a small video camera to the TV. God, what a f*cking night. He knows he has bigger problems right now, but he can’t help but be hyperaware of Nathan’s knee bouncing nervously against his where they sit next to each other. He still looks so hot in his suit, and f*ck, they were making out in a coatroom like, two hours ago. Not only is everything in their lives falling apart, but between his confusing coatroom makeout with his fifteen-year-long crush, and Toki literally f*cking killing a guy, Pickles feels like he’s been dealt a pretty brutal hand all at once.

He doesn’t know what to make of what happened in the coatroom. Nathan stopped him from kissing him (he’ll have to be sure to tell Skwisgaar thanks for the f*cking advice to just “lay one on him”), told him they couldn’t risk the band...and then f*cking kissed him anyways. Pickles would probably be sulking from rejection if he wasn’t so goddamn confused. Although he was pretty high on a f*ckton of molly when they locked lips, Pickles can remember every detail of it clear as day this time. He vividly remembers being barely able to breathe as Nathan kissed him with this animalistically passionate urgency, and It was...well, the only way to properly describe it is metal as f*ck, and he wants more. But then Nathan just left, and the two of them have kept their distance from each other up until Pickles plopped himself right on the couch cushion next to Nathan. He wanted to talk about it, he wanted to tell Nathan to f*ck his fears and just follow his stupid heart - but unfortunately, this is the worst possible timing in the world for their feelings to come to a head. Apparently, the band was finally going to get the answers to the question they've been waiting months to solve - what the f*ck happened to Toki?

Pickles is genuinely worried for how Skwisgaar is going to handle whatever they find out. The poor guy couldn't catch a goddamn break. The first half of the night, it had been so nice seeing the guitarist...well, he looked happy. He was having fun with Toki, his face dripping in gooey fondness as the two of them clinked their glasses together, joked and bickered almost like they used to, danced the waltz like a scene out of a sh*tty romcom. Things were going good, for once, and then all of a sudden it all came crashing down. And now, Skwisgaar looks so devasted that Pickles can barely even stand to look at him. He and Charles are huddled up around Toki a little ways away, the brunette’s hands bunched up in the blonde’s unsteady fingers and Charles’ voice a firm whisper. Toki is shaking violently, left eye twitching, fists and hair still caked in blood as he looks between the two of them tearfully.

"I didnst wants to hurts anyones! He mades me does it!" Toki sobs half-hysterically, breaking their hushed conversation. There’s blood dripping from his eyes as he squeezes them shut, and Skwisgaar winces as the worry on Charles’ face only increases.

“So...you guys haven’t told him anything?” Abigail raises an eyebrow at the guys on the couch, giving them all her signature ‘cold and disappointed’ ice queen look, and Pickles can't help but think about how f*cking intimidating she is. Nathan had a trend of liking domineering, kind of terrifyingly-strong women. What the f*ck would he see in Pickles, then? “This might be a little...surprising, to him, if he has no backstory.”

“Toki’s a tough kid, he’ll be fine,” Murderface waves it off, popcorn in his lap and beer-drinking hat on as he prepares to watch whatever she's going to show them. “Letsch roll the film! I wisch I had some f*cking Dibsch, you guysch remember those? At the movie theater? They’re like the little icesch cream bitesch, and—“

“Shut the f*ck up, Murderface. There’s no way Charles is gonna let him stay out here for this,” Nathan’s voice rumbles next to him, pointedly not looking at anyone because he hasn’t made eye contact with Pickles since they kissed, and he probably doesn’t wanna risk it. Sure enough, Nathan is right. Charles says something quietly, and Toki instantly starts pouting, voice tearfully raised, “But this ams about mes! Nobodies ever tells Toki anythins!”

Skwisgaar brings Toki’s hands up to his lips, blonde hair messy as he shakes his head pleadingly, “Tokis, I swears, I will tells you everythings aftors we haves the full stories. Okays?"

Toki squeezes his eyes shut, on the edge of falling apart, "Skwisgaar--"

"Hey. It ams goingks to bes alrights,” Skwisgaar cups his face, foreheads pressed together, and Toki’s face crumbles miserably before he sweeps Skwisgaar into a sobbing hug. Toki’s been alternating between tears and unshakeable anger ever since he found out the blood on his hands is not his own. He’s clearly an emotional wreck, and Skwisgaar isn’t holding up any better - especially as he shamelessly hugs Toki close, smoothing down his blood-drenched hair and looking ghostly pale. Pickles looks to the other guys - Murderface is too busy shoveling popcorn into his mouth, and Nathan’s intentionally trying not to look at anything, so luckily neither of them seem to notice this display of affection. He loves his bandmates, but sometimes, they're so oblivious that it's almost painful.

Toki lets Skwisgaar lead his shaking form back to his room, and he's clinging to the blonde as the two of them dissapear down the hall. The room is uncomfortably silent without the two of them there, and Pickles tenses as he realizes Abigail is staring between him and Nathan. She makes eye contact with him, and then she has to audacity to f*cking smirk as if she knows something Pickles doesn’t. Can she tell, that they kissed? Nathan’s hair does look a little messy, and Pickles knows his own dreads are more out of his ponytail than in at this point (due to the fact that Nathan almost f*cking yanked them out out his head, and f*ck, it was really hot). Abigail doesn’t say anything either way, and Pickles tries to ignore her as he quickly plucks a joint out from underneath his wristband and lights it.

He can't believe he survived a night of watching her and Nathan interact. Charles had provided him with an inhaler, even though he promised that he was sure Pickles wouldn't need it. But, just in case. Pickles ended up using it significantly more at the beginning of the night than the end, because being around the two of them now, Pickles...realized something. Nathan really didn't seem interested in her anymore. He had been crazy about her, in a way that only specifically Nathan could be - shy, adoring, already planning the rest of his life with her. Even after the breakup, Nathan still had been in this rejected, lovelorn funk. But now? He just seemed like he couldn't give a single f*ck, and instead of paying attention to her, or talking to her, he...well, he seemed to be really f*cking focused on Pickles. And Pickles couldn't even remember what his own date looked like, because he was so wrapped up in Nathan. He wondered if this was how Skwisgaar felt for all those years where he wanted Toki, but couldn't let it show.

"Can I, um," Nathan still isn't looking at him, but when Pickles looks over he can see the frontman's face is flushed. "Can I hit that."

"Sure, dude," Pickles says almost nervously, passing him the joint, and when their fingers brush Nathan nearly jumps out of his own skin. Pickles wonders if he's thinking about when they had their shotgun kiss a few days ago, because that's definitely what Pickles is thinking about as he watches the smoke curl around the frontman, and his own face heats. Why did Nathan have to be so goddamn good at kissing? Is it going to be weird like this, between the two of them, forever? f*ck. They can't even sit next to each other without things being all weird and sexually charged and sh*t.

“Toki ams all tucksed in,” Skwisgaar sighs as he trudges back into the room, scrubbing his hands against his eyes in exhaustion. He glances at the TV, and quickly picks up his guitar off its spot on the wall as he flops into his spot between Murderface and Pickles. He starts picking at his strings, an obvious sign that he's nervous. “Cans we just gets on with this? I don'ts thinks I shoulds leaves him alones while he ams likes this...”

“Yes, we should probably, ah, get the ball rolling here,” Charles says, too uneasy to sit, so he hovers next to the couch. His foot is tapping, and that’s the only indicator that he’s just as nervous to see this footage as the rest of them. Nathan swallows audibly next to him, and Charles looks uneasy as he looks to the band and asks the question that nobody wants to answer. “Are we ready?”

Skwisgaar, Pickles, and Nathan all look at each other nervously. Even f*cking Murderface, trying to act like he thinks this is all entertaining, lets his facade slip for a minute as a restless expression crosses his face. This is their f*cking brother, whether they like it or not - Toki has been apart of their f*cked up, dysfunctional family since he was just a teenager. They couldn't have avoided caring about him even if they tried (not that they wouldn't fight tooth and nail to deny it), and while they're all pretty aware he went through some violent sh*t while he was kidnapped, nobody wants to be faced with having to actually see it. But they do need answers, and as usual, Nathan makes the decision for them, “We’re ready.”

"So," Abigail holds up a hand to the Klokateer, gesturing for him to wait before playing the video. "I'll preface this with what I know. I'm not going to get into things I don't have to. Obviously, you know Magnus tortured Toki. He had a lot of...issues, with Toki taking his place in the band, so, he really got the brunt of it. And even through it all, Toki wasn't giving up on Magnus - he still called him his friend, he was convinced the man with the metal face was taking Magnus' mediciations, I...? I'm not really sure. Mostly, he'd just be quiet and cry and take whatever Magnus wanted to dish out to him that day, and--"

"Abigails," Skwisgaar has his hands over his face, before they run into his hair stressfully, and he already looks like he's about to fall apart. "Cans we nots gets intos the details whats about Toki cryingks and allsa thats."

"Oh god. If you can't listen to that, then this video..." she trails off, pinching his temples. She continues, "Toki's affinity for Magnus changed completely, maybe a couple weeks before we were finally rescued. The metal face sh*thead was getting impatient that nobody was coming to rescue Toki. He was thinking about taking a second hostage - Skwisgaar seemed to be the obvious choice, as he’s the last guitarist and assumed to be the weakest."

“He thinks I’m stronger than Skwisgaar?” Murderface looks flattered, hand to his chest. “I mean, I do work out—“

Nathan hisses, “Shut the f*ck up, Murderface.”

“Schorry, schorry. Just bein’ a dick. Pleasche, Abigail, continue.”

"Magnus, um. He knew about..." Abigail's eyes meet Skwisgaar's, who swallows visibly. His eyelashes flutter as he looks down at his hands, and Pickles feels his heart ache for him. Even Abigail looks like she feels sorry for him, as her eyes cast themselves away, "Yeah. So, he was really eager to let Toki know about the plan to, um. Bring Skwisgaar into it. And once Magnus started threatening Skwisgaar, Toki lost his whole 'he's my friend' thing and suddenly he was putting up a fight. He...kind of formulated this plan to stop him, and well. The video speaks for itself. I managed to get my hands back on the camera when everything went to sh*t, and he never realized it was me who took it. But I have to warn you - this doesn't explain everything. Just a part of it. If anything, it only raises more questions..."

“Let’s get on with it, then,” Nathan rumbles next to him. “The sooner we get this sh*t over with, the sooner we can figure out how to fix Toki.”

Abigail hesitates again, her eyes settled on Skwisgaar before flashing away. “I just...I need to warn you guys about what you’re about to watch. Toki...he hurts himself.”

“Horts himself?” Skwisgaar breathes, body tensing and fingers stilling against his guitar. “Whys…? Whys would he does that?”

“Toki can’t even deal with getting a f*cking papercut,” Nathan levels her with a look of disbelief. “Pain is metal and all, but f*ck. It’s not Toki’s thing. Besides tonight, when he killed that guy, but. Yeah.”

"He actually, um..." Abigail swallows, then looks away. "He doesn't...make it."

A silence falls over the room, only broken when Skwisgaar glares sharply at her, "Excuse mes?"

“Toki figured," Abigail's voice is shaky, and she clears her throat and tries again. "Toki figured that if he ended the whole hostage situation, then you would be safe, they'd have no need for keeping me there anymore and let me go...I tried to talk him out of it, but...once he got his hands on one of Magnus’ knives, it was all over."

Nobody in the room looks like they believe her, because what the f*ck is she trying to say? That Toki f*cking offed himself to save the band, to save Skwisgaar? Toki's right in the other f*cking room, so how does that make any sense? Pickles is too nervous to even ask Abigail to elaborate, and she looks between the faces of the band members, "Just...watch the video, okay? It might not be what you want to have happened, but...you have to see it to believe it."

"Ja, let's see Toki kills himselfs, even thoughs he ams rights in the othors rooms," Skwisgaar rolls his eyes sarcastically, even though his voice is practically shaking with nerves. Pickles sucks in a breath, as the Klokateer presses a button and the footage abruptly appears on the TV, making everyone sitting on the couch jolt.

“Wowee,” Toki whispers onscreen, jarring the entire band, blue eyes illuminated in the darkness as his nose bumps up against the frame of the camera. “I thinks it ams workins, Abigails...”

“He can’t know we have it,” Abigail whispers back, and everything twists and turns before Toki comes on screen with a perfect clarity. Skwisgaar sucks in an uneven breath next to him, because this is their Toki - even though he’s clearly in agony, his eyes aren’t empty like they are now, and even in the worst possible situation, it’s so f*cking good to see him looking like himself. It’s not good, however, to see the condition that he’s in, and Pickles can practically feel Skwisgaar shattering next to him as his fingers frantically increase their speed on his guitar.

“Oh f*ck,” Nathan breathes, the sight of him really setting in, and even Murderface chews his bottom lip nervously. On the screen, Toki looks terrible - thick collar clamped around his throat, one of his eyes bloodied shut, bottom lip busted and bleeding down his chin. His hair is disheveled, face sunken and pale, and Pickles had almost forgotten the terrible condition that Toki was in when they rescued him. But now, the memories of his friend’s battered body claws its way back to the front of Pickles’ mind, and he suddenly feels very sick.

“Ums, hellos,” Toki’s voice is a paper-thin, frail whisper, as he waves a hand testingly in front of the camera. “Ams it on?”

“Yeah,” Abigail whispers back from behind the camera. “Toki, please, you don’t have to—“

“Abigails,” he says sadly, sternly. “I does have to.”

There’s a tense silence between the two of them, and Abigail finally says, “Alright. But you’ve gotta hurry. We don’t know when he’s going to be back...”

“Sorries. Okays. This ams sos weirds. Nevers in a millions krillions years did I thinks...” Toki takes a deep breath, inhaling sharply. “My names am Toki Wartooth, and these ams my last wills and tesktaments. By the times you will be seeins this, I’ll bes...ums. Hankboiger times. I’d likes to starts by sayins that I wish to be burieds nears my old pianos—er, guitars, teacher. And I—“

“This ams ridiculous!” Skwisgaar hisses, slamming the pause button with one of the foot pedals. “Toki wouldns’t does this! He ams talkingks like he ams dyingks!”

Abigail merely glances at him pitifully, before pressing play again. Toki’s voice picks up from where he left off, “—don’ts wants a funeral or nothins. Don’t reallies have good lucks with those. I’d like my shares in Planets Piss to goes to all the kitties in the hospitals—“

Murderface points at the screen, “f*ck YOU TOKI! YOU’RE NOT IN PLANET PISSCH!”

“—And all my belongins goes to Roscko. Besides my guitars and my Deaddy, whats ams goins to Skwisgaar,” Toki says solemnly, and the Swede’s hands stutter on his guitar strings. “I’d also likes to...apolgesacks. To my fans, and to my...bands,” Toki’s eyes flutter to the ground at the mention of Dethklok, teeth gnawing on his split bottom lip. He squeezes his eyes shut, “I haves to do this, though. He ams goins to hurts the ones I loves if I don’ts ends this. But I’m so sorries. Beins in the band...it ams the best things to evers happens to me. Alls of my dreams came trues; I gots a families, I gots to plays with the best bands in the woilds, I fells in loves...it was a goods life. I—“

Something bangs above them offscreen, and Abigail begs quickly, “Hurry, Toki...”

“I don’t wants to says goodbyes...but this ams how it has to be, sos. Thanks you, for everythings. Please don’t blame youselfs,” Toki whispers, eyes starting to fill up with tears. “Pickle, Nathans, Moiderface - I loves you all sos much. I—“

Another bang, and the sounds of feet coming down the stairs. Toki pushes his hair off his face, eyes welling up with tears as he whispers frantically, “Skwisgaar. I—“

Toki’s cut off as a door opens, and Abigail fumbles to hide the camera as Magnus’ voice echoes through the room. The video cuts out, the screen going blue for a just a minute, and then the footage abruptly reappears on the TV, making everyone sitting on the couch jump. The timestamp at the bottom indicates that it's only been a several minutes after Toki was just on screen. The camera starts out focused on the dingy, green-tinted basem*nt wall that Pickles can clearly remember belongs to the room they rescued Toki from. He gets a glimpse of bloody handprints on the wall’s tile, and suddenly he feels nauseous. He doesn’t want to imagine Toki clawing at the wall, trying to get free from the same f*cker who Pickles used to hold in such a high regard. His stomach churns just thinking about it - about a young Magnus carding a hand through his wild red hair, about Magnus using that same hand to f*ck up Toki, and—

“Are you ready?” Magnus’ voice fills Pickles’ eardrums, and his entire body is raked with tremors, and he’s suddenly desperate for his inhaler because he can’t f*cking breathe. The camera pans down, and Pickles just watched Toki literally beat someone to death, but he looks more pissed off on-screen than he’s ever seen before.

“You wanna get the word out about what’s been going on, huh? Is that why you have this camera?” Magnus chuckles, and Pickles hates his voice, he hates his f*cking voice— “Honestly, it might help speed things up around here. Maybe if they see you being tortured....well. How about we do this for Skwisgaar? Maybe it’ll drudge up some of those nonexistent feelings you say he has."

Toki’s whole face changes at the mere mention of Skwisgaar - he looks into the camera, bottom lip wobbling, and f*ck. The longing, it’s palpable, similar to the same way Skwisgaar looked when he told the story of their past, and how did none of them notice that look in his eyes before? None of the other guys seem to pick up on the “feelings” comment, but Skwisgaar’s fingers violently slide off his guitar, before picking back up so rapidly that they turn into a blur.

“It’s not your fault,” Magnus says, and Pickles can practically see him smirk from off-camera. “You’re a victim of the band. A victim of thinking someone in Dethklok loves you but they’re just f*cking using you until something better comes along.”

Toki rolls his eyes on screen, and Pickles sucks on a wheezy breath, heart literally stopping for a second before it speeds back up double time. Was that a f*cking dig at Pickles? There was no f*cking way that Magnus was going to start bringing up sh*t from their past right now. Pickles is on the edge of a panic attack as he rapidly smacks nervous drum cadences against his legs, and Nathan makes a confused grumble next to him. f*ck. He worked too hard for that sh*t to come out now, but luckily, Magnus keeps yammering on.

“Maybe I’ll torture you, put it on a flash drive, and leave it at Mordhaus when we pickup Skwisgaar, hm? So they get an idea of what's going to happen to everyone's favorite guitarist,” Magnus says, and Toki’s face instantly hardens with a mix of fury and fear. That’s the moment that Pickles really sees it - Toki’s resolve to end the situation, for Skwisgaar, and suddenly, Pickles knows exactly where this video is headed, and exactly why Abigail kept it from them. “Either way, Dethklok is going to see this, so. If you have something to say to them, go right ahead.”

Toki steels himself, and he looks up into the camera. It looks like it’s incredibly painful for him to say goodbye, but he clearly forces himself to power through, “I’m...sorries, guys...” a few tears drip out of Toki’s eyes as he squeezes them shut. “Maybe he ams right. Maybe you ams not lookins for me, maybes you haves replaceds mes...but thanks you anyways, for beins my families fors a little whiles.”

Pickles doesn’t think the four of them have been this quiet before. Skwisgaar's got his bottom lip in between his teeth, wiry frame shaking and fingers flying on his Explorer so fast that blood starts to run down his wrist. Pickles sees a tear slide down the blonde's cheek, as Toki continues, the corner of his mouth lifting, knife peaking out from underneath the leg of his pants, “Skwisgaar. I meant it outsides the bus, and I still means it now, you stupids Swedish dild*.”

“Don’t does it Toki--” Skwisgaar gasps, and on screen, Toki’s hands move as Skwisgaar's slam violently against his guitar, and he stabs himself in the chest.

“What?!” Magnus screams, nearly dropping the camera, as Toki smiles at him and jams the knife deeper into himself, twisting it. Everyone on the couch gasps. One of Skwisgaar's guitar string snaps with a deafening crackle. Blood starts to pour out of Toki’s mouth, thick and dark and bubbling, as Abigail screams in the background, and Magnus starts yelling for that metal-faced f*cker to come help. The camera gets a shot of Toki’s eyes rolling back, his body slumping over, and then it cuts out.

How is it possible, that a thirty second video could slice through a death metal band like f*cking butter? Because that’s exactly what’s happened - everyone is completely f*cked. Charles has taken a seat, head in his hands, and unmoving. Murderface’s popcorn is spilled from his lap, jaw slack and eyes unblinking as he stares at the now blue screen in front of them. Nathan’s hand blindly reaches for his, this weird death growl bubbling out of his throat, and Pickles instantly grabs it like a lifeline. It’s been a long time, since Pickles has genuinely wanted to die. Even when Dethklok broke up, even when Toki got stabbed right in front of him, he still felt like he needed to be stick around, because things would be fixed. They would get better. Now, he feels like he doesn’t f*cking deserve to be here, and he really just wants to die. For so many reasons. For partying while this was happening to Toki. For all the time that he spent trying to see the good in Magnus. He—

Pickles nearly jumps out of his own skin as Skwisgaar stands up violently, eyes glossed over with tears, shoulders shaking as he points at the screen, "Gets this fake sh*ts out of our f*ckingks sights."

Abigail looks like she was expecting this reaction, holding up her hands in some semblance of a way to try and calm the blonde down, "Skwisgaar, it's--"

"Toki woulds nevors does that!" Skwisgaar hisses furiously, blonde hair falling in his face as he gestures to the TV with his guitar. "It ams fakes, it ams--! He wouldns't does that! He amnst some tragicks heroes, he ams our stupids dild*s guitarist and he wouldn'ts f*ckingks does thats to us!"

"Skwisgaar," Nathan rumbles, voice thick with emotion, shoulders heaving as he tries to keep himself under control. "Freaking out isn't going to, uh. Un-stab Toki. Just...just calm down, alright?"

Pickles visibly cringes, because they've both known Skwisgaar long enough to know that you never tell him to calm down when he's throwing a tantrum. Sure enough, he whips around to look at Nathan, tears burning against the fire in his eyes as he snaps, "The f*cks dids you just says to mes? Dids you just sees what I dids?" He turns back to Abigail, pointing at her with his guitar, "If this ams reals, then where's the explankations? Hmms? How ams he here, if he’s supposkedlies d-? Duuehh? You knows! Hankboiger times!"

“Isch it like Charles? Y’know, the ‘Dead Man’ schit?” Murderface asks, and Pickles is grateful for his big mouth because he's too goddamn shaken to speak. When he mentions Charles being the Dead Man, their manager's head snaps over to him, the gears in his brain visibly turning.

Abigail says gravely, "I don't know what happened next. They took Toki somewhere...and when they came back, he was alive. But he was...different. He started having trouble remembering things, his eyes started bleeding, he kept saying someone was inside his head...then he just stopped talking altogether, and went comatose when you guys rescued him. We--"

All of a sudden, the blue of the TV screen switches, to everyone’s surprise - including Abigail. The date at the bottom of the screen indicates that this video was taken the day they rescued Toki.

“Dethkloks,” Toki’s voice is almost inaudible, and there’s no picture. It’s completely black, and Toki whispers, “I wills sees you soons. It ams inevitables.”

Charles looks up. And Pickles can practically see everything flashing behind his eyes - the bleeding, the memory loss, the voice, the red eyes - and he suddenly looks like he’s going to be sick. “Oh my god,” Charles breathes, standing up from the couch. His eyes are wide, hand over his mouth, “Oh my god. I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner.”

“What?” Everyone asks in unison, as Charles starts practically burning holes in the floor as he paces back and forth in a panic.

“Abigail, I'll have the Hatredcoper take you home. Thank you, for the information. Nathan, Pickles, Murderface, and Skwisgaar. You need to pack overnight bags, but travel as light as possible. We’ll board the, ah, Dethbus as soon as we’re all assembled. Skwisgaar, pack one for Toki, but not under any circ*mstance is anyone to tell Toki where we’re going, or that it's about him,” Charles’ voice is low, and this is the most serious Pickles has seen him look in a long time.

“Wait, where are we goin’? What the f*ck's goin’ on?” Pickles asks, and the rest of his bandmates look just as confused as he does. Charles just shakes his head again, speechless, and then he’s disappeared down the hall towards his own room. Everything after that flies by in a whirlwind. Pickles doesn’t know what to pack, because he doesn’t even know where the f*ck he’s going. But he throws some random clothes in a duffel bag with shaky hands, sure to stuff his pills and some joints in there, because he has a feeling that he’s gonna need them. It takes probably twenty minutes for Dethklok to assemble - Skwisgaar is holding the hand of a still-twitchy Toki like his life depends on it as they stand in the wet midnight grass outside of the Dethbus.

Abigail hugs Toki goodbye as the helicopter whirls nearby, and she casts a backwards glance at Pickles and Nathan before wishing them luck. Neither of them say anything as they watch her go - but Pickles feels like his jealous hatred for her has kind of gone away, as Nathan’s hand stays clutched in his own. They board the bus, and Charles shuts Toki up in his room, locking the door from the outside and pocketing the key. The manager turns to the four bandmembers who stand in the living room of the bus, who are all looking at him with wildly panicked confusion.

“Whats the f*cks ams goings on, Charlies?” Skwisgaar demands, nose red and eyes teary, and he's practically shaking with emotion as he throws his bag down on the floor.

“Listen,” Charles says, voice a whisper as they gather together in a huddle. “Murderface mentioned my place in the Prophecy, as the Dead Man, earlier. In this Prophecy, there's a traitor amongst the band. In the Church, we always assumed this would be Murderface--”

"What the f*ck!" Murderface glares, “I am SCHOCKED, and APPAULED, that you would--”

Nathan whacks Murderface upside the head, clearly sick of telling him to shut the f*ck up. Murderface grouses as he rolls his eyes, and Charles quickly continues, “But. How hard would Toki be to sway, if Salacia had access to his brain?"

“Who the, uh. Who the f*ck is Salacia,” Nathan raises an eyebrow flatly.

“The dild* whats am kills Cornickelson?" Skwisgaar asks, and Charles gestures for him to be quiet. Skwisgaar drops his voice to a harsh whisper, “Whats the f*cks he gots to does with this?”

Charles usually calm voice is unsteady as his foot taps against the floor, "Think about what you saw, at your last show in Iceland. When Salacia appeared, he--"

"The eyes!" Pickles exclaims, and Charles is instantly nodding, "Dude, the people in the audience started explodin' blood out the f*ckin' holes in their face when that guy showed up! Ain't that how Roy died too? Gahd, it was just like that when I walked in on Toki the first night he was home...but he didn't, y'know, die like they did..."

"You can't kill what's already dead," Charles says gravely. "Toki's clearly still in his body, but I would imagine he's in a...physical purgatory, of sorts. Right on the edge of life and death, and kept alive by the darkness that's poisoning him. The general that I was tracking while I was presumed dead - he was brainwashed, under Salacia's control. There was a Cardinal, who Salacia killed in the same fashion of the fans in Iceland, who had confided in the the general that someone was in his head. This is what he does. There’s a connection, between General Crozier and the Masked Metal Assassin. It's very possible that Magnus and the Assassin had Salacia bring him back to life, and in turn, gave him an all-access pass to Toki's head."

"f*cks!" Skwisgaar has his hands in his hair, blue eyes widen and panicked with disbelief. "Whats the f*cks ams this f*ckingks bullsh*t?"

"That's why Toki's eyes bleed, when he tries to remember something. Because Salacia doesn't want him to remember," Charles continues, taking off his glasses to scrub at his face. "I recall Skwisgaar saying that Toki was remembering bad things when good stuff would happen. I'd imagine he'd probably be trying to warp Toki's mind so he'd be more easily inclined to turn against the band. Salacia is very good at manipulating people's brains, and we have no idea what information he's already unlocked from Toki's mind. This does match up with Toki's brain scans - so his memories are still intact, but Salacia has them blocked off."

“Waits. Waits, waits, waits,” Skwisgaar gasps, eyes flickering with a dangerous, animalistic hopefulness, “Toki’s memories...amst gones forevors, thens? They ams still in theres?”

“Skwisgaar,” Charles is instantly shaking his head. “Please don’t get your hopes up. There’s another issue.”

Nathan rumbles, black-painted nails digging into Pickles' palm furiously. "I don't like it when people f*ck with my f*cking band. How do we fix it, Charles."

"Listen very carefully," Charles says sternly, voice lowering even quieter. "We need to get to the ocean. We need to get Toki into the water, and I need to administer the same poison to him that I used to escape Salacia. But he can't know what we're doing, because Salacia's probably listening through Toki's ears at all times."

"Didn't thet poison like, kill you, before it brought you back?" Pickles tugs at his own dreds nervously. "Is it pahssible that it'd just...y'know? Kill 'im, and he doesn't come back, since he's been all half-dead for so long? Because we can't lose him again, dude.”

Skwisgaar looks at Pickles in alarm, and Charles doesn't say anything for a few beats. His voice is quiet, when he speaks again, "It's a possibility, that he might not come back. It might be too late. But we have to try. There's also a possibility that we do this flawlessly, and Toki comes back to Mordhaus with all his memories intact. But if I’m going to be realistic with you boys - this might be the last night you spend with Toki. So without alerting him of anything, make the most of it.”

Pickles feels tears bead the corners of his eyes at the mere thought of Toki being back to normal. But the thought of Toki being gone for good, after they just got him back is terrifying. Skwisgaar wouldn’t f*cking make it if he lost Toki again, and judging by the stricken look on the blonde’s face, he’s pretty aware of that as well.

“Buts,” Skwisgaar blinks, and the confused, frustrated anger seems to push itself to the backburner as the tears that had been in his eyes roll. “He can’ts…”

Nathan hugs Skwisgaar first. The blonde instantly is crying, broken and miserable, and even though he's like, fury-inducingly tall, he looks so tiny as he crumples against the lead singer. Nathan makes eye contact with Pickles, in that moment, and then the drummer finds himself pulled into the hug. Even though hugging is definitely un-metal and not brutal, Pickles holds onto his friends for dear life. To their absolute surprise, Murderface joins in (managing to mumble a ‘no hom*o’ first for good measure), and then Charles even offers them a couple good-natured pats. Tomorrow could bring the end of Dethklok, but at least for one more night, they're a band.

They spend the night together, the five of them curled up on the couch together under a giant blanket. It doesn’t seem like an incredibly significant way to spend what could be their last night all together, but it’s exactly what they need it to be. They watch scary movies, eat a ton of sh*t, and it almost feels like they’re a band again. Toki’s in the middle, surrounded by the people who love him, and he looks content for maybe the first time since he’s been back from captivity. He’s snuggled between Skwisgaar and Nathan, holding onto both of their arms, and they seem more than happy to let him cling to them.

It’s nice, feeling normal - listening to Murderface complain, to the rumbling of Nathan’s voice, to the soft chatter of Toki and Skwisgaar next to him. But it’s laced with so much sadness - Pickles feels like his heart is being crushed, as he watches Toki’s head drop against Skwisgaar’s shoulder when the brunette finally crashes out. He can see, in the soft light of the TV, a tear roll down the blonde’s face as he looks ahead. And he can feel Nathan glancing over at him, can see the frontman’s fingers tapping uneasily against his knees.

Skwisgaar dutifully tucks Toki in again once the last movie ends, and they all force themselves off the couch and retire to their own rooms shortly after. Pickles doesn't expect Nathan to show up in his room tonight, and he had already resigned himself to sleeping alone. Nathan wouldn't want to sleep next to him, not after everything that happened at the gala. He figured for a while, it would be too weird. But to his surprise, as the clock creeps up past three in the morning, his door slowly creaks open. He pretends to just be sleeping - maybe it doesn't have to be awkward, because maybe neither of them have to talk to each other. They can just enjoy the comfort of sharing a bed with someone else, and f*ck off to their respective dreamlands. Nathan climbs into bed, uncharacteristically carefully, and he rolls over onto his side facing the wall. No snuggles. Figures.

Maybe five minutes pass, and then he hears it. Crying. Just small, sniffly noises - noises that he's never heard Nathan make before, and they sound too soft for anything that could come out of the big guy. Pickles feels his entire body tense, his heart hammer in his chest, and even though Nathan would probably want him to, he can't ignore it. He turns over, and sure enough, Nathan's big shoulders are shaking, curled in on himself, and f*ck. Pickles might start crying too, because seeing Nathan like this is messing him up.

"Nate," his voice comes out more like a soft whine than anything, and Nathan quickly tenses, sniffling put on hold as he clears his throat.

"f*ck. I didn't mean to, uh. Wake you up, or anything."

"S’okay," Pickles says quietly, a hand hovering between Nathan's shoulder blades before he finally lets it rest there. "You alright, dude?"

"Yeah," Nathan says, but then swallows audibly. "I mean. No. I'm...not. I'm not alright." He rolls over, finally, and Pickles feel his heart leap into his throat. Nathan's face is cracked open, and full of raw emotion - eyes watery, cheeks tear-stained, bottom lip wobbling. It's haunting, seeing someone who's usually so strong and emotionless look like this. His voice is just a gravelly whisper, “I f*cking hate being...afraid. It’s not metal.”

Pickles’ heart aches , and he murmurs even though he already knows the answer, “What’re you afraid of, dude?”

“Nothing. Everything! I don’t know...I’m afraid Dethklok is gone. I’m afraid Toki’s going to die. I’m...afraid our friendship is f*cked because we wanna you-know-what each other,” Nathan scrubs his hands over his face, and Pickles feels his own face catch on fire. That’s...the first time either of them have really addressed any of the tension between them, and it's really f*cking weird. But did he...did he just say ‘each other?’ “My f*cking band is over. Toki's life, is...it's over, isn't it? f*ck."

"No," Pickles instantly is shaking his head, green eyes wide. "Nate, ya can't tahk like thet--"

"He offed himself. Toki, for us, he f*cking...God, if he comes back, I'm gonna kick his ass," Nathan chokes, and more tears roll down his face, and Pickles can't stand it. He sits up, and he holds out his arms, and Nathan practically throws himself into them. The frontman had looked so strong, earlier, when he held Skwisgaar through his fit of tears - it all must've been an act, because here he is, in the same exact position as the blonde. Skwisgaar holds Toki, Nathan holds Skwisgaar, Pickles holds Nathan. That means Pickles should be getting held by Murderface, but...he'll take one for the team and be strong for all of them instead.

Pickles buries his face into Nathan's chest, the frontman's arms around him with a crushingly familiar gentleness as his voice rumbles, "If the band doesn't make it, then what the f*ck do we have left? You saw what happened last time we broke up. We all tried to do our own things, and we failed. Like, really bad. We all f*cking suck outside of Dethklok. And what about...what if I never...?"

What if I never see you again, is what Pickles is sure Nathan would've said if he hadn't trailed off. He wraps his arms tighter around Nathan's middle, heart in his throat, "Yeah, but, the thing is, Nate. We don't have to split up. Me 'n you...if Dethklak falls apart, we could stay together."

Nathan sniffles, and pulls back to look at him. His watery green eyes pierce right through Pickles', as he grumbles hesitantly, "...Yeah?"

"f*ck yeah, dude. We could grab all our cash and go on one big friender-bender, until we die or run outta mahney. Whichever comes first,” Pickles offers a hopeful smile, reveling in the feeling of letting himself dream. “We could go whaerevur, maybe start in Spain ‘n work our way to—“

“But like,” Nathan’s face flushes, and he looks away. “What if it was like. More than that."

Pickles blinks, heart flying into his throat, “More’n...?”

Nathan glances back to Pickles again, green eyes searching, desperate, and so f*cking nervous. Pickles swallows audibly, eyes wide, as Nathan growls out quietly, "We could be...more. Than that. If you want.”

Pickles just gapes at him. Holy. f*cking. sh*t. Nathan’s hands turn to fists against him, and he starts talking quickly, “If Dethklok is ending, then, f*ck. I don’t wanna do anything without you, I don’t wanna be a regular jacko*ff if you’re not one with me, and I mean, I-I know you want it too, Pickles. You have for a long time, and I-I think I have too...and, if—“

Pickles kisses him. Nathan doesn’t stop him, he doesn’t hesitate - he kisses back, and it’s so f*cking full of all the emotion that the frontman can't get out, yet it's so...gentle. Pickles has always heard the rumors from those raunchy groupie sites that’s he’s only peeked at once or twice - some girls swear that Nathan is actually soft and sweet and caring when he’s with them. He can see it now, can feel the way Nathan just melts against him, and the way his big hands slide feather-light against his back, and Pickles feels more tears prick the edges of his eyes. He’s definitely been with people who...haven’t treated him so gently. For it to be like this, with someone he loves - he’s never had that before.

If their world is ending tomorrow, this is exactly how Pickles would want to spend his last night.

Chapter 10: go into the water

Chapter Text

“Looks at thems. Douchebags for shores.”

“Hows abouts thems ones?” Toki laughs, pointing to a group of people wading in the ocean nearby, the coconut drink in his hand sloshing as he leans against the blonde’s shoulder. The two of them are sitting on a beach blanket, the ocean breeze carding through the palm trees around them, the water lapping at their feet. Somewhere, distantly, it registers to him that this beach is familiar - he thinks about when he was in his coma, and Skwisgaar’s voice crooned through his ears, and he realizes that this is the place he’d go when the blonde would talk to him.

But he doesn’t care about the coma, or that he killed someone hours ago, or the way Skwisgaar had tears in his eyes when he tucked him into bed. He can’t find it in himself to care about anything, as Skwisgaar runs a hand through his own blonde hair, the sunset dancing in his blue eyes as he gazes up at the sky, and his stupid speedo really leaves little to the imagination, doesn’t it? He’s so f*cking beautiful that Toki can barely breathe.

Toki grabs his face and practically tackles him in a kiss, and Skwisgaar makes a muffled noise in surprise as his back hits the beach towel before instantly melting into it. The blonde’s hands slide over his back, faintly skimming over one of his scars, and he sighs into the kiss like locking lips with Toki is the greatest thing he’s ever done. Toki hasn’t remembered anything so far that isn’t negative - so why is he seeing something so beautifully perfect? Is this a memory, or a dream?

“Wes should stays here,” Toki whispers against his mouth, blonde hair spilling through his fingers as he thumbs Skwisgaar's cheekbones lovingly.

Skwisgaar smirks at him, “Tokis, we alreadies gots this place fors the rest of this weeks, and eugh, it was hards enough gettings aways without the rest of the band trying to pal along. We gots to gets back to works at some points, you lazies dild*.”

“Noes, I means...” Toki props himself up on an elbow, brushing some of Skwisgaar’s hair out of his face. “Like, forevers.”

“Yeeuuuh right,” Skwisgaar laughs as he turns his face back up towards the sky, but Toki watches his throat bob with nervousness. Toki continues, almost desperately, “Seriouslies! Would Dethklok reallies miss us that much if we...just went offs the grids?”

Skwisgaar levels him with a look, snorting, “You thinks the bands wouldnst notice if their onlies two guitarists ams gones?”

“Moiderface can takes our parts!” He says, and Skwisgaar instantly laughs. Toki holds out a hand, the sun pouring in through the creases of his fingers. “Just pictures it! We gets a little shack and lots of cool cats and play metals on the beach all day. Wouldnst it be fun to just...be regular jacko*ffs together?”

Skwisgaar looks at him sadly, and with an emotion that he can’t quite place. He gets a pat on the cheek, long fingers lingering to cup his face, and the blonde whispers, “Littles Toki. You knows the band musts always come forsts. Everythingk's goods the way it ams."

'But it’s not enoughs,' Toki thinks, as the sun sets on the blonde’s face, and the ocean breeze pushes and pulls in synch with their lips as they meet back in the middle for a crushing kiss. He realizes, faintly, that this beach marks the end of something.

The memory suddenly cracks. It warps, the light of the sunset suddenly turning dark, the ocean roaring ominously around them as Skwisgaar pulls away from him. Toki desperately tries to follow his lips, to get him back, but the blonde just keeps slipping away from him.

“Skwisgaar,” he whimpers, reaching for the blonde. “Don’t leaves me...”

“What does you wants, Toki?” Skwisgaar doesn’t sound like himself - it sounds like the grating voice in his head, and Toki feels a terrified wave of fear sweep over him. But he knows the answer to the question, and he whispers, “I-I wants to be enoughs for yous.”

Skwisgaar comes back, he cups his face. Toki melts into his touch, begging for it, feeling the tears prick behind his eyes. The blonde whispers against his lips, “You nevors will bes.”

Toki wakes up, the wheels of the bus rumbling beneath him and the image of Skwisgaar snapping away so fast it makes his vision spin. The voice isn’t whispering like it usually does - it’s raging, and his whole body is burning burning burning, and he can’t think, he can’t see straight. He feels like he’s dying, and the voice screams and wails violently in his head until blood drips from his mouth, nose, and eyes. He ignores it. He doesn’t even care anymore. He hopes it kills him, he’s been dead before and he wishes it would’ve stayed that way, and...Toki faintly recognizes he’s losing his f*cking mind. He knows it, and he doesn’t have the strength to fight it. He f*cking killed someone, hour ago - he’s a monster. A terrible, terrible person, and he is poisoning the band, isn’t he? The voice is right, it’s always right, and—

He goes to wipe away the blood that consumes his face, but he slowly realizes that his arm is around something. Skwisgaar. He looks down at the blonde in his arms in a terrified surprise. He doesn’t remember him staying, when he tucked Toki in after movie night - but he’s here, blonde hair ticking his nose, ear against the place where Toki’s heart beats in his chest. Toki dares to brush the blonde hair out of his face, similarly to how he did in the memory at the beach, and he can see tear stains on his face. He sees a flash - Skwisgaar, younger, shirtless and kissing him, eyes excited as he murmurs, “You shores you wants to does this, Tokis?” But in the present, in his sleep, he looks so devastated. It twists Toki’s heart up into a knot, because he knows he’s the reason Skwisgaar is so sad.

He suddenly has a vision of snapping Skwisgaar’s neck. Grabbing him by his blonde locks, twisting his head, reveling in the crunching noise that it makes. “Do it, do it, do it,” the voice chants, and a moment of clarity hits him. Oh god, what is he thinking? Toki sobs hysterically, silently, free hand over his mouth and the other still around a sleeping Skwisgaar. He knows he has a dark, violent side - the side that it really doesn’t take much to set over the edge, and he can feel it being prodded at every second. It was too much, yesterday - and then, he killed someone. What’s to stop him from doing that again? To one of the band members? To Skwisgaar? He needs to try and fight, to stay in control...

“Donts leaves me,” Skwisgaar murmurs against him, voice thick with sleep, a tear rolling down his chiseled face, and he looks so...small, as he buries his face into Toki’s chest and clutches at him like he’s dying.

“Sos, ja. I just thinks it’s beens a while since I’ve...indulkgenced in groupies and GMILFS. Figureds the concerts in Floridas tonight will bes a good place to starts. You knows, because Florida gots all the olds ladies,” Skwisgaar says, twirling a piece of his own blonde hair around a finger almost nervously. Toki isn’t saying anything, just sitting at his desk where he had been painting model planes, and Skwisgaar can’t look at him as he tries to sound indifferent and uncaring, “It ams no big deals.”

“Ohs,” Toki looks away, and the air between them is thick with tension. And not the good kind. Toki taps his fingers against his desk, trying and failing not to look hurt, “Why ams you tellins me? We ams just...yknow, pals. You can f*cks whatevers ladies you wants to.”

“I knows,” Skwisgaar says quickly, cheeks on fire. “I just thought I’d gives you a heads up, sos you wouldn’t sneaks in or anythings.”

“Thanks for the warnins,” Toki glares at him, looking back to his planes bitterly. “Yous can gets out nows.”

Skwisgaar stands there, chewing on his bottom lip, and he opens his mouth to say something. Toki raises an eyebrow, glaring at him, and Skwisgaar’s eyes cast themselves away before he turns and walks off.

Toki gasps as he comes back, head absolutely pounding. He squeezes his eyes shut, body twitching wildly, and he clutches at his head. Skwisgaar is gone, he realizes faintly. He has no idea how much time has passed, but he forces himself to stand up, and he wobbles dizzily on his feet. He stumbles over to the mirror, red eyes squinting at his own reflection, and who the f*ck is he? Why doesn’t he know? Why—?

Sitting on the nightstand underneath his mirror, is a book. It glints tauntingly at him, a sliver of moonlight highlighting it, and blood drips from Toki’s face onto the hardcover as he peers down at it. Skwisgaar Is Ams Dick. He almost forgot that he ordered it; it had arrived before the gala, but he didn’t...he didn’t want to ruin his night with Skwisgaar. He didn’t want to know the Toki that hates the blonde, but as he stares down at the book, he thinks...maybe that’s the most realistic version of himself.

So, he reads it. Chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, and he’s burning through the pages with a wild hysteria. It was all a f*cking act, wasn’t it? Skwisgaar being nice to him, Skwisgaar sweeping him off his feet and taking care of him and loving him, and how could he have been this stupid?

“Tokis, I tolds you I am busies,” Skwisgaar says, ten years younger, blue eyes peeking out from behind an almost-closed door. He hears a woman’s giggle, and then two others’ - Skwisgaar’s face flushes. “There am goils in there?” Toki whispers, wringing his hands anxiously, and he knows in his heart this was the first stab of jealousy, the first seeds of heartbreak, the first time Skwisgaar had groupies over after something...changed, between the two of them. A memory tries to fight its’ way to the front of Toki’s mind - a balcony, soft hands on his face, blue eyes glittering in the moonlight--

The scene changes, refusing to let Toki experience a good memory, and the shift is jarring. “f*cks you, Tokis! f*cks! Yous!” Skwisgaar yells, wringing his hands in the air, face burning red as he throws his own guitar to the ground in frustration. “I hates you! Does you undorstands? I hates you so f*ckingks much I can barelies breathe!”

Another change. Skwisgaar walks down the hallway, robe tied loosely, a gaggle of women trailing eagerly behind him. Toki sits on the couch, vibrating with anger as he smashes the buttons on his controller, and they make eye contact. Skwisgaar merely tilts his chin up before striding into his room with all the women, and slamming the door behind him. Toki can hear Skwisgaar’s flirty chuckles, the sultry lowness of his Groupie Voice that he fell for just like everyone else, and he flings the controller through the TV screen.

Another change. “Wrong, wrong, wrong, it ams wrong!” Skwisgaar yells, gripping at his own blonde hair in frustration. “Plays it agains, godsdammit!” Toki barely even gets a single note out before Skwisgaar is groaning into his hands, stomping around in a circle before leaving the room entirely.

Another change. “My gods, stops sayingks it!” Skwisgaar exclaims, face red, eyes burning, “The f*cking band comes forst. Does you understands? We can’t be mores, but we haves to gets alongs. We haves to pretends this didn’st happen, and goes back to normals.”

Chapter five, chapter six, chapter seven, the pages practically catch fire as he turns them, and the memories fly by his vision like bullets. All bad ones, and there’s so many of them. How could there be so many? He had known Skwisgaar loving was too good to be true, but god...why would he be so nice to Toki now, if this was how he treated him?

He tries the doorknob. Skwisgaar must’ve forgotten to lock him in, when he left, and he finds his legs silently carrying him down the hall. He doesn’t know where he’s going, and he honestly doesn’t even think he’s in control of his own body, as he peaks around a corner and sees Charles and Skwisgaar congregating. Whispering, trying to be quiet - don’t they know, there’s no secret keeping when the voice in his head seems to hear everything? Charles’s voice is serious and low, “We’ll...be at the ocean in a matter of hours.”

The ocean? The f*cking ocean? The voice screams in Toki’s head, they know they know they know, and Toki nearly crushes the book underneath his hands.

“Yeeuh,” Skwisgaar mutters, voice dripping with teary bitterness as he looks away. He looks terrible - eyes red-rimmed, face pale, hair messy. He looks like he’s losing every ounce of composure he has left, and desperately trying to keep everything in place, as he nervously pulls at his own blonde hair. Just the sight of him makes Toki want to drop to his knees and sob in angry hysterics, for so many different reasons. “Ands?”

“When...we get Toki in the water, a vial of poison needs to be administered in order to stop his heart. And we don’t know if it’ll work, but...” Charles whispers, holding up a vial of something that makes Toki’s heart feel like it’s stopping in his chest right now. “I decided to give you the option, if you’d like to be the one to...administer it.”

Skwisgaar gapes at him, staring at the vial of poison that Charles holds up in front of his face. “You means...? I gives this to Toki, and...?”

“Toki loved you,” Charles says, eyes downcast. “I figured, he’d want to be honored in that way. No matter what the outcome.”

Skwisgaar shakes his head, and he swallows, reaching out and taking the vial, turning it over in his hands. “If I gives this to Toki...there ams a chance it coulds...kuhh...k-k...you knows. For goods.”

“Yes,” Charles says somberly. “But it’s either you, or me, who gives it to him. The end result will still be the same.”

To Toki’s betrayed shock, Skwisgaar puts the vial in his pocket with shaking hands, a tear rolling down his face as he looks up at the ceiling, desperately trying to get control over himself. His voice sounds so frail, so weak, as he mutters, “I’ll does it, for Toki. I-It ams what he...wouldsve wanteds.”

Skwisgaar is trying to f*cking kill him. Is that why he was being so nice? To lure him in, to make him feel safe and then stab him in the back? Just like f*cking Magnus did, and Toki backs away like a caged animal. There was no way he’d go down without a fight, and he sure as f*ck wasn’t letting them take him the ocean. He needs to stop this bus. He sure as f*ck isn’t going to let Skwisgaar get what he wants and see him die, that stupid blonde dild* always gets what he wants—

“Agreed,” Charles says quietly, and then he hesitantly puts a hand on Skwisgaar’s shoulder. The two of them exchange some sort of unspoken moment, and Charles says gently, “I have to warn you. We’ll have to tell Toki what’s going on when we get to our destination. When Salacia realizes we’re at the ocean, he may very well cause Toki...to freak out. You need to try and keep Toki in control of his mind.”

Skwisgaar blinks sluggishly, “How’s ams I supposeds to does that?”

“You, ah. Know Toki better than anyone,” Charles says gently. “If anyone will know how to get to him, it’ll be you. But I wouldn’t...well, there’s really no point in holding back information anymore, is there? Maybe the more Toki knows, and the more connected he is to his past...”

Skwisgaar chews on his bottom lip, which Toki recognizes as something he does when he’s anxious. God, this would be easier if he wasn’t so gorgeous. Even at rock bottom, even tired and miserable and tear-stained, Skwisgaar still is the most beautiful person Toki could imagine. His hands shake as he pulls a cigarette out of his pocket, lighting it. The smoke curls around him, and Toki’s eyes fix on it unblinkingly. “Wills you calls a bands meetingks for me, whens we gets to the oceans? There ams more things that I wants to says, befores it ams all ovors.”

“Of course."

Skwisgaar glances at Charles, and takes a drag off his cigarette. He mutters quietly, "How longs...did you knows. Abouts me and Tokis."

Charles cracks a tiny, sad smile at the Swede, as Toki gnaws on his thumbnail in an unsettled confusion. "Since he joined the band. I'm very, ah. Perceptive. Hopefully Pickles and Nathan will follow suit."

"Wows, you reallies ams porskeptives," Skwisgaar huffs hollowly, and Charles pats him on the shoulder before the two of them part ways. Toki has heard enough, anyways, and he turns around to slip back into his room. What was that name Charles said? Salacia? The minute the name registers to his brain, Toki feels every bone in his body shift, every vein threaten to burst and explode, and he has to throw a hand over his mouth to keep himself quiet as pain zig-zags through his head. He doesn’t want to know anything more about his past. He knows enough.

Now all he can do is wait.

Skwisgaar had always hoped that maybe it wasn’t as bad as they thought, that they waited so long to finally rescue Toki. They got him back, in the end, so at least there was no permanent damage from their mistake, right? But he had never been more wrong. If they had just come a week earlier, Toki would be perfectly fine. He never would’ve killed himself, he never would’ve been brought back to life by a f*cking prophetic demon, and he wouldn’t maybe die in a matter of hours. Skwisgaar doesn’t even know how he’s still functioning, at this point, because now they know what’s happened to Toki but it might not even f*cking matter.

Once he finished watching movies with the band, he managed to get Toki into his room and tucked in. He wanted to walk out, go back to his room and really let himself feel the reality of everything he learned in just a day, but then he couldn’t stand the idea of them spending what could be Toki’s last night apart. He knows that Regular Toki would want them to spend it together - so he slipped in, curling against the brunette as he went to sleep.

The night is a blur of nightmares and tears, and his eyes finally crack open at the earliest hours of the morning. He just lays there, listening to Toki’s heartbeat like it’s the most precious thing in the world. He can’t believe that this is his reality. He can’t believe that Toki did something so terrible to himself, for him. Wouldn’t he have known that Skwisgaar would rather be tortured for an eternity than have to live without Toki? If he would’ve just waited a little longer, if they could’ve rescued him just a little sooner....

He tries not to think about Toki’s face, on the big TV screen earlier. He tries not to think about the way he broke down on camera when Magnus mentioned Skwisgaar’s name. He tries not think about what Toki said - he still loved him, just a year ago. After all those f*cking years of pretending to be friends, after all that lost time...Toki never stopped loving him. He died for him, and Skwisgaar didn’t f*cking say it back outside of the bus and it was the worst mistake of his life.

The sun doesn’t shine, in the morning. It’s cloudy, and foggy, and Skwisgaar knows today is the day everything changes forever, one way or another. It doesn’t get off it a good start, that’s for sure - the vial of poison that Charles gave him burns a hole in his pocket. A part of him feels honored Charles even offered this to him. Another part wishes he didn’t have the option, because now he has to take it.

The hours tick by, and Skwisgaar sits in his room and plays Toki’s Snow Falcon until his bloody fingers ache. He had stupidly hoped that something would happen at the gala to bring back Toki’s memories, so he’d brought it along. His optimism now makes him feel f*cking sick. He notices that the feeling in the air starts to change, as they get closer to the ocean. Skwisgaar’s mouth tastes like metal, his fingers shake, and he has a terrible feeling that rolls around in the pit of his gut. He leans his head back against his headboard, inhaling deeply as he tries to pretend it’s Toki playing for him, and not his own hands.

Before he knows it, they should be there in a matter of minutes, and Charles calls the meeting for him. He looks at himself in the mirror, steeling himself - his eyes are puffy and lined with thick, dark circles. His hair is messy, his face pale, and while he usually prides himself on being a beautiful guitar god, he can admit he looks like absolute sh*t. But he’s still going to get in front of his coworkers, his friends, his family - and say what he needs to say. He’s going to tell Toki everything - and he means everything, and he’s going to say it in front of everyone.

Nathan, Pickles, and Murderface take their seats at the makeshift Dethbus meeting table, and it’s always so weird when the tense silences takes over their group. It just doesn’t feel...right. Murderface would usually be loudly complaining about his problem of the day, Nathan and Pickles would be sharing their easy back-and-forth, Skwisgaar and Toki would be bickering about something, and Charles would be trying to regroup and get everyone’s attention. But that’s not how things are, with Dethklok anymore. Now, they’re all gravely quiet as they wait for Charles to unlock Toki’s door and bring him to the table.

Just sitting across from them, Skwisgaar instantly notices something is...different, between Pickles and Nathan. The way they gravitate towards each other, the way Pickles’ hand rests on Nathan’s knee, the way Nathan blushes and tries to look like he doesn’t have a million brutal butterflies fluttering in his chest at the contact.

Skwisgaar’s eyebrow quirks, and it’s actually nice, to feel an emotion other than despair. Pickles must’ve taken his advice at the gala, and went for it, and it must’ve worked out. He’s happy, for them. Even if he’ll never get this type of love again himself, Nathan and Pickles deserve it.

Upon further inspection, Skwisgaar notices Pickles’ and Nathan’s eyes are both on him in the frustratingly pitiful way they’ve looked at him since Toki first came back, but neither of them say anything. Murderface is a bit less subtle, “Aghh, whatsch your problem? You look like schit."

Skwisgaar raises a hard eyebrow, hyper aware of the shadows underneath his eyes, “Ams you reallies askingks me thats?”

“Ohh, right. Toki’s schupposed to...hamburger time...again,” Murderface scratches his chin thoughtfully, as if he had forgotten that they were in this situation. Nathan glares at Murderface harshly, and Skwisgaar can still see the burning sadness in the frontman’s eyes that was there last night.

“Hey. Seriously. You alreeit, dude?” Pickles asks, worry flashing in his tired green eyes, and Skwisgaar almost imperceptibly shakes his head ‘no.’ Because it’s the honest answer - he’s not okay, in any sense of the word. He’s falling apart, and he knows everyone can tell - even Toki, who barely even knows him anymore.

“I haves to tells Tokis he mights die todays,” Skwisgaar sighs, hands over his face before they move to stressfully rake through his own hair. “I ams the one whats ams givingks him the poisons.”

“f*ck. That’s brutal,” Nathan shakes his head, eyes wide. “Can’t like, someone else do that?”

“Noes. He’d wants it to bes mes,” Skwisgaar whispers brokenly, and he and Pickles look at each other. He can tell by Pickles' expression that his heart is breaking for him, and f*ck. He doesn't want their pity. He casts his eyes away, “I shoulds tell you threes, somethings that haves been on my minds since we founds out the truths. If Toki...” Skwisgaar trails off, shaking his head, and Pickles and Nathan both stare at him with matching looks of sympathy. “If he doesn’st makes it, I cants keep doesing Dethkloks. I’d...haves to quits. I’m shore you can understands whys.”

Pickles and Nathan both stare at him. To his surprise, Nathan nods once in agreement, “Yeah, we. We talked about that, too. Dethklok isn’t Dethklok, without the five of us there. We couldn’t...replace Toki. We, um. Wouldn’t.”

"Ohs," Skwisgaar picks at the hem of his shirt, swallowing thickly. "Does you two haves a plans, or?"

Pickles and Nathan look between each other, and he can see a blush creep up Nathan's neck. Pickles tries to say easily, "I dunno. Prahbably just f*ck around Europe until we run outta mahney."

Sounds romantic, Skwisgaar wants to say bitterly, but bites his tongue. Obviously, their post-Dethklok dreams don't include him. Not like he expected as much, anyways. He's been in enough bands to know that nobody ever stays completely together - one or two members will stick to each other, and lose contact with the rest. What's his plan, if Dethklok really ends? He doesn't even want to think about a life without Toki. Maybe...maybe he wouldn't want to live a life without Toki, and the darkness of his thoughts nearly strangles him. Skwisgaar’s eyes fill with tears again, and he squeezes his eyes shut. “I can’t believe we ams even havingks this convorsation.”

Pickles’ voice lilts up in the way of someone who’s trying to be optimistic, but isn’t completely selling it, “But it could work, dude. The poison, it could save ‘im and bring our Toki back. What if Toki wakes up and he’s gaht all his memories ‘n—“

Before he can say anything more, Charles appears in the doorway. Everyone turns to him, surprised to see him looking so...frantic - his hair is messy, glasses askew, the right sleeve of his suit slashed open. Skwisgaar gasps behind a hand, a terrible, nauseous feeling rising up and strangling him.

“Holy sh*t, Charles!” Pickles gasps, knees knocking against the table as he jumps up. “Whet happened t’you??”

“Toki...” Charles shakes his head, seemingly in shock before he straightens up almost mechanically. He clears his throat, righting his glasses on his face, “Toki has figured out what’s going on. He’s...he seems to have lost his mind almost completely, as expected. Skwisgaar...”

The blonde shakes his head in silent horror, and he knows what Charles is going to say the minute panicked green eyes meet blue. He just stares at him, mentally begging him not to speak the words on the tip of his tongue. But sure enough, he does: “I know you wanted to explain everything to him. But I think...it’s too late. He’s too far gone for reason.”

“Did Toki f*cking schtab you?” Murderface gapes, eyebrows shooting upwards in shock. “I always knew that kid wasch f*cked in the head! All that represched violench plus psycho demon cannot be a good f*cking combination! We gotta get off thisch f*cking bus before he finally f*cking killsch us!”

“Toki amnst hurting anyones,” Skwisgaar hisses, slamming a hand down on the table as he stands up.“That ams ridiculous to even says!”

“He, ah. He did try to...stab me, in order to get out of the room,” Charles gestures to his cut sleeve. “Luckily, I was fast enough. But he got past me, and I don’t know where he went...”

“We need to find him,” Nathan growls, hand squeezing around Pickles’ underneath the table. “And we need to get him to the ocean before he f*cking hurts himself or one of us.”

Skwisgaar wants to protest that Toki wouldn’t hurt any of them - he’s goddamn Toki. Yes, he has a thinly-veiled violent side mixed with a demon in his brain. But he can’t be that far gone, can he? To hurt one of them? He suddenly isn’t sure he knows the answer, and it terrifies him. But he has to ignore it - he cares more about getting Toki back to normal than getting hurt, so he’d do whatever it takes.

“Wait,” Pickles’ nose scrunches up, and his eyes jump between the four other men. “D’you guys smell gasoli—?”

“Hellos, brothers,” Toki walks into the room, and Skwisgaar’s breath instantly hitches at the sight of him. he looks the worst he’s been so far, and it feels like someone’s plunging a knife through Skwisgaar’s very soul. Toki’s eyes are that ominous shade of red again, dripping blood as usual, a strange tremor raking through his body. Skwisgaar realizes Toki has a pack of matches in his hands at the same time Charles does, and his manager’s voice comes out as a whisper, “Boys. Get off the bus. I’ll handle this.”

“f*ck no, Charles. We leave this bus together, as a f*cking band,” Nathan growls, standing up from his chair, putting himself in front of where Pickles stays sitting next to him.

Toki snaps, taking one of the matches out of the box and holding it up, “You guys haves one chance, to lets me goes and not follows afters me, or else I burns this bus to the f*ckins ground!”

Murderface rolls his eyes, “Arschon? Come on, Toki, if youre gonna kill usch, you can do better than that.”

“Toki,” Pickles holds up his hands, green eyes wide, mirroring the absolute shock of their other bandmates. “This ain’t you, dude…”

“Wells I wouldnst knows, woulds I? I don’t knows whos the f*cks I ams!” Toki’s voice shakes dangerously, shoulders rising and falling as he breathes unevenly. “Nobodies will tells me anythins, and--! And yous!” Toki points at Skwisgaar with his free hand, and the blonde has been too surprised to even speak up until this point. “f*ckins dild*s piece of sh*ts! I knows what you ams tryins to does to mes!”

“Tokis,” Skwisgaar tries to keep his voice calm and level, even though his brain is a whirring mess of confusion and fear. “Let’s talks about it off the bus, okays? I—“

“That’s what you always ams sayins! ‘I’ll tells you laters, Toki. Let’s talk abouts it some other times, Toki!’ Now I f*ckins know why!” Toki yells, storming over, and Skwisgaar stands up from his seat, holding his hands up passively. He looks like he’s sizing the blonde up with that crazed, violent look he gets before he pummels the sh*t out of someone. Skwisgaar blanches - he sure as f*ck isn’t going to fight Toki, and he cares more about making sure the brunette is okay than his own wellbeing. “You always ams sos nice to mes, but nows I-I knows you amnst reallies a nice pals at all!”

“Toki, the reasons I called this meetingks ams to tells you everythingks,” Skwisgaar tries to say evenly, even as he watches Toki’s fists clench. “You thinks you knows what the stories ams, but nobodies knows besides the twos of us. You don’ts knows how it reallies ams--”

“I knows f*ckins enoughs! I heards you and Charlies talkins this mornins! You ams plannins on killins this vessels!” Toki yells, tears on the edge of falling as he jabs Skwisgaar so hard in the chest that he goes stumbling backwards.

“You amnst a f*ckingks vessels, Toki!” Skwisgaar exclaims, blonde hair falling in his face as he regains his footing, and he shakes his head desperately. “You ams Toki f*ckingks Wartooths. You needs to fights the voice what you ams hearingks!”

“I-I cants!” Toki wails, fists in his own hair. “I tries so hards, but he ams sos louds, a-and—he ams rights! He ams always rights, about yous not reallies beins how you ams! I reads the book, Skwisgaar! Why haves you been lyins to me?! Tells the truth, and tells me you ams plannins on killins me!”

Skwisgaar breathes in sharply through his nose, hands tensing on Toki’s shoulders, as he mutters, “Toki. That voice you ams hearingks? There ams a f*ckins demons in your heads. The onlies ways to gets him out is to stops your hearts, but--! Don’ts looks at me likes that, if you dies, you mights come backs, and it could brings back all your memories! You wouldnst hear the voice anymores, you--!”

“f*cks that! You thinks I wants to keep rememberins this sh*ts? You made my lifes miskerables! What ams the points of beins so nice to mes, huh? Talkins to me while I was in the comas, dancins with me like you loves me and cryins on me last nights like you actuallies cares? Is it all a f*ckins joke?” Toki exclaims, tears rolling uncontrollably down his face. “Gods, you f*cks me ups, Skwisgaar!”

“Like he lovesch you? That’s kinda gay, Toki,” Murderface mutters, and Pickles slaps him in the back of the head.

Skwisgaar steels himself, hands in his hair, before he takes a couple calming breaths. Of course Salacia wants Toki to want to stay like this. Skwisgaar realizes he needs to think like he’s battling against the demon, not Toki. He needs to be smart - he needs to keep the brunette from tipping over the edge. He keeps his voice calm as he tosses his hair over his shoulder, “You saids you reads the book, ja? We dids fights, a lot. Whens you wrotes that books, you didnst hates me. You was just...frustrateds, and a stupids dild*s. It amnst...accurate, of how things was. But yous wrotes it, and still wents to your rooms and recordeds me cassettes full of songs at the ends of the days. Does you remembors thats, somewheres in there?”

“Noes...” Toki’s eyes dart around, like he isn’t sure how to respond to whatever this brings to the front of his mind. To Skwisgaar’s surprise, the anger drains out of him for just a second, and he whispers, “But it does...sound familiars, maybes...”

Skwisgaar nods violently, reaching for the match to try and take it, but Toki jerks his hand away from him. The rage sparks back to life in his eyes, red swallowing up the blues as he slams Skwisgaar against the wall, fingers bruising on his arms, and looking at him...the blonde can tell, that his Toki is in there. That he’s trying to hold himself back from hurting the person he knows he loves, and Skwisgaar just needs to break through to him. It’s the only way, and he glances at the rest of Dethklok. Nathan, Pickles, and Charles are all looking at Skwisgaar with baited breath - if anyone’s going to keep this bus from going up in flames, he knows it’s him. It’s just like Charles said earlier - “If anyone will know how to get to him, it’ll be you. But I wouldn’t...well, there’s really no point in holding back information anymore, is there? Maybe the more Toki knows, and the more connected he is to his past...” He looks to the guys again. He still has his chance to tell Toki...everything. Right here, right now.

“Whys should I listens to yous? It ams all lies, anyways!” Toki points at him, tears uncontrollably rolling down his face. “Ams the voice rights? Ams this your faults, that I’ms likes this? Oh my gods, did you does this to mes?”

“Toki. I tells you everythingks - hells, I’ll tells all the guys in this rooms - if you calms down and liskens to mes,” Skwisgaar says firmly, watching the way Toki’s eyes dart back and forth. He says airily, “I means, if you thinks you alreadies knows how it all wents downs, then what ams the harms? Lights this bus on f*ckingks fire after I finish talkingks, for alls I care. Hells, I’ll opens the door and lets you off myskelfs. Just lets me talk.”

“You sure you wanna do this, dude?” Pickles whispers, and Skwisgaar looks at Toki’s terrified, furious blue eyes as he nods. He really, really can’t seem to give a f*ck about what the guys think anymore. About what anyone thinks, so long as he does anything he can to get Toki back for even a minute. With that in mind, he starts. “Magnus Hammersmith ams the original rhythm guitaritsts in Dethkloks. You replaceds hims, abouts ten years agos. Remembors, I told you I picksed yous?”

Toki hesitantly offers a single nod, blood pouring down his cheeks like a faucet almost instantly, and splattering on the ground underneath him. Pickles tenses at the mere mention of Magnus, and Skwisgaar continues with a nostalgic smile, “You blews us all aways, when you trieds out. Sos much bettors than Magnus. I’ve nevors playeds so wells in my life, untils you were theres with mes. We hads to haves you in the bands, and...”

Through all the confusion, anger, and pain, Toki’s eyes still sparkle at the praise. Skwisgaar tries to hurry up before he loses him to Salacia’s influence again, “There ams peoples, who donts wants the bands to be as powerfuls as it ams. Magnus teamsed ups with thems, and they took you and Abigails. For a longs time, and he...horteds yous. He was goingks to horts me toos, so yous...”

Toki stares at him, one of his own hands fluttering to the spot that he stabbed himself in the chest. Skwisgaar’s voice shakes, “Y-You dieds, to saves mes, and to frees the bands from the simkuations. We gots you backs, and you wents in the comas--”

“Skwisgaar never left yer side,” Pickles pipes up, and Toki’s eyelashes flutter. “He wouldn’t f*ckin’ budge outta his gahddamn stool fer a second, dude. For five months, you were never alone.”

Toki wipes his bloody eyes, violent expression faltering as his voice shakes, “I-I knows, I...I could hears him talkins to mes…”

Skwisgaar waves a hand, as if it were no big deal. He tries to keep his voice steady as he continues, “The problems ams, we didnst know what ams wrongs with yous. Abigails finallies helpsed us figures it outs. Torns out, Magnus broughts you backs with the helps of a demons, whats ams the voice in your heads nows. The onlies ways to gets the demon outs, ams to stops your hearts and starts it back ups again. We ams goingks to the oceans, to does it.”

He instantly knows he shouldn’t have mentioned the ocean. As soon as the words leave his mouth, it’s like a flip switches, and he can practically see Salacia’s fingers sink deep into Toki’s brain. “S-Stops! You donts gotta tells me sh*ts! I alreadies remembered everythins I needs to knows! I-I remembers you pickings on me. Tellingks me I am didlos at the guitar and recording over my parts! I remembers watching you have lots of sex with slu*ts, and youse would do it rights in front of mes even when you knows that I—!”

Toki squeezes his eyes shut, and Skwisgaar just stands there, reaching for him, teetering on the edge of losing it but refusing to let Salacia win. He f*cking knew, that if he tried to pull Toki away from Salacia’s grip on his brain, the f*cker would just sink his claws deeper. But Skwisgaar’s a competitive motherf*cker, and he’s not losing today. However, it’s hard to keep it together, especially as Toki sobs, “You ams the ones, what’s am f*ckins killins me! Ovors and ovors! You always breaks my f*ckins hearts and it kills mes!”

“Tokis,” Skwisgaar grabs him, even as the brunette thrashes and tries to get away. He squeezes his eyes shut, tears threatening to roll down chiseled cheekbones that he refuses to let fall, “I knows I brokes your heart, and it was a f*ckingks mistake. But breakingks yours ruined mes toos, and I regrets it everies single days!” Toki’s still twitching in his arms, sobbing as he shakes his head, but Skwisgaar continues desperately, “He amnst lettingks you remembors, but you...duringks your first tour with us, we forst...starteds. On the balconies, we...”

Toki swallows, tornado of anger and tears pausing again, as Skwisgaar squares his shoulders and holds onto him tighter, “We was in loves. Fors the whole times, mostlies, but we didnst...it didnst goes the way we wanteds it to. And that ams nobodies faults but my owns. But wes still...but Is stills....”

Toki has tears in his eyes, bottom lip between his teeth as his entire body tremors. Skwisgaar inhales deeply, not looking at his bandmates’ reaction, as he continues, “I didn’t desorves your loves, and thats ams the truths. But if you comes backs to mes, I’ll works for it. I’ll makes up for alls the lost times, I’ll tells you I loves you everies days. You just haves to fights this stupids f*ckingks demons, and comes backs to me.”

Toki sobs, hands clenched in fists at his sides, and Skwisgaar can tell he’s fighting so hard against Salacia. He shakes the brunette, choking out, “Does you undorstands? I loves you, Toki, with everythingks that I ams. We haves to gets you back, because I needs you backs…”

And that’s when he sees it. Toki’s eyes flash from the deep, unsettling red, to something familiar. For just a second, they’re not empty anymore - they look exactly the way they used to, and Skwisgaar’s breath hitches in his throat. Did he break through to Toki? Did he trigger a memory that even Salacia isn’t strong enough to keep away from him? Toki suddenly falls against him, a crying, hysterical mess. He claws at the blonde’s shirt, gripping to him tightly, legs practically giving out as Skwisgaar hugs him and holds up his entire weight. Toki chokes out against him, “Does what you haves to does to mes...but you gots to hurries, I-I don’t knows how longs I can controls myselfs…”

Skwisgaar feels his shoulders slump in victory, and the blonde gets a glance at Nathan and Murderface’s dropped jaws, as he mutters, “Nathans. A little helps?”

He’s grateful as Nathan detaches himself from Pickles, picks Toki up, and gently puts him over his shoulder as he walks off the bus. Skwisgaar doesn’t even have time to worry about how Nathan and Murderface feel about their big secret being revealed - the minute Toki’s out of the room, the blonde wheezes and crumples against the table.

“Wait...Toki and Skwichgaar were f*cking GAY?” Murderface whispers to Pickles suddenly, as everything the blonde said finally clicked. “When the f*ck did that happen? Am I missching something? Skwisgaar gets pusschey AND ass? WHAT THE f*ck!”

Pickles merely rolls his eyes, before rushing over to the blonde. There’s dainty, calloused hands rubbing his back, Wisconsin drawl in his ear, but none of the words are registering. He’s crying, he realizes - Pickles shakes his shoulders, voice frantic, and he just keeps crying and Pickles keeps shaking, and then a hard slap to his face brings him back to reality.

“Skwisgaar. f*ck, dude,” Pickles breathes. “You back wit’ us?”

The blonde nods weakly, and Pickles hugs him tightly. Skwisgaar sobs brokenly into his shoulder, lanky frame trembling, and Pickles just hushes him and holds him tight. “I know, dude. It’s alright. You did a great jahb.”

“That amnst how it was supposed to bes,” Skwisgaar’s voice is muffled by Pickles’ shirt. “When I tells him I loves him, it shouldn’ts have been—“

“You can tell him again when he’s all there,” Pickles promises, hands coming through his blonde hair. “Come ahn. We gotta hurry before the f*ckin’ demon guy makes him flip out again.”

The two of them rush to the Dethsub with Murderface at their heels, and Nathan, Charles, and Toki are already waiting for them onboard. Toki locks himself in his room, to make sure he doesn’t try and escape, and Nathan stands guard outside his door. He makes eye contact with Skwisgaar, but quickly looks away, and the blonde’s stomach drops. Maybe he’s mad, that they kept this from him for so long, but Skwisgaar doesn’t have the energy to do anything besides go into the bathroom and hyperventilate over the sink.

It doesn’t take long for the sub to get to the place Skwisgaar vaguely remembers Charles taking them just a year ago - the underwater base of the Church of the Black Klok. It still blows his mind, that the fact that there’s an entire church dedicated to their band saving the world is the least surprising thing that’s happened in the past year. They exit the sub in shuttles that take them to the patch of dry land underwater, and the six of them regroup nervously.

“Skwisgaar. There’s a pool of water, ah, over there,” Charles points near a large pillar, the twinkling lights of the church glowing behind him. “He has to be in it, when you administer the poison.”

Skwisgaar nods, swallowing nervously, and the vial feels like it’s burning a hole straight through his pocket. Skwisgaar sniffles, foot tapping, “Let’s, euugh, gets on withs it, thens.”

“B-But what if the voice ams rights? What if I don’t wakes back ups?” Toki whispers, left eye twitching slightly and hands spasming. A silence falls over the band, because they have no answer. They’re all aware that they’re standing together for what very well may be the last time, and Skwisgaar’s eyes bounce between the five of them. Nathan’s green eyes are downcast, full of pain, and his hand is clutching desperately to Pickles’. The drummer has tears in his eyes as he chews his bottom lip, patting cadences against his thigh with his free hand. Murderface’s arms are crossed, and he looks bitterly pissed - a defense mechanism, to try and hide his sadness. Even Charles looks miserable, as he adjusts his glasses and stares down at his feet.

“You better f*cking come back, Toki,” Nathan grumbles, voice thick with emotion. “But if you, uhm, don’t...it’s been...an honor. Being Dethklok. With you.”

“Dude,” Pickles whines, tears rolling down his freckled cheeks. “Come ahn...we can’t do this f*ckin’ sad sh*t. We’re a gahddamn metal band, a-and—“

“Please don’t makes me goes,” Toki whispers, looking at the five of them desperately, hugging himself and looking uncharacteristically small where he stands. The entire band looks away, feeling like Toki’s defeated voice just collectively stabbed them through the chest, and maybe this was their karma for not rescuing Toki soon enough. “I-I don’t thinks I--”

“Toki,” Skwisgaar rests his forehead against Toki’s own, his own tears dripping down his face. “Please. Please, fights it, and lets me does this. You haves to be strongs, just one mores times. I haves somethings to makes it bettors.”

Toki inhales shakily, looking at the blonde with teary eyes as he whispers brokenly, “Whats coulds posskiblies makes it betters?”

Skwisgaar smiles miserably, and he reaches into his pocket. He holds out the cassette player to Toki, “It ams yous, Tokis. You mades this, for mes. It’s all that you ams, in this tape.”

Toki just stares at him, turning over the device in his hands, and Skwisgaar wonders if he feels any sense of familiarity over something he poured his heart into. His eyelashes flutter, and he looks over at the other members of Dethklok. His face softens, voice miserably quiet, “Thanks you guys, for everythins. I was luckies to haves you as my families. I knows I don’ts remembers much, but...I hads funs, spendins time with yous.”

Nathan puts a hand on Toki’s shoulder, voice broken as he looks down, “Toki. You died, for us. For the person you loved. We wouldn’t be here, if it wasn’t for you. We...we owe you everything.”

“We love you, dude,” Pickles sniffles, clinging to Nathan’s arm, and Skwisgaar is floored to see a tear roll down Murderface’s otherwise expressionless face as the bassist bitterly looks away. Charles pats Toki on the shoulder, looking like he wants to say something but is terribly unsure. He settles on, “You’ll always, ah. Be a hero in my book, Toki.”

“Thanks you, everyones,” Toki says softly. He inhales deeply, then looks to the blonde with red-rimmed blue eyes, “I’m readies, Skwisgaar.”

Toki puts one headphone in his ear and Skwisgaar takes the other. They take each other’s hands, as they walk past the band and towards the pool of water. Toki turns back, taking one last look at Dethklok, and then his face turns forwards again.

The music starts. The romantic, painful, beautiful playing of Toki’s Flying V shreds through their ears, and Skwisgaar has listened to it so many countless times before that he could hum (and play, obviously) this one by heart. Skwisgaar remembers the first time he listened to this cassette. Toki was laying in his bed, asleep and curled around the blonde’s Explorer, and Skwisgaar realized that the brunette was in love with him. It was as undeniable as it was terrifying, and the Toki of the present must be able to hear the same thing. He looks...well, he looks shocked, at hearing his own playing for the first time. Something else rolls behind his eyes, as they approach the pool of water. “I reallies playeds this?”

“Ja. Millions krillions years ago,” Skwisgaar murmurs, as he sticks one of his fully-clothed legs into the water. It’s about waist-deep, and he grabs Toki’s hands, helping him in, and the minute the brunette’s skin touches the liquid, he hisses in pain. Skwisgaar hushes him, gently dragging him the rest of the way in, “Just focus on the musics, Tokis.”

Sure enough, a particularly impressive, beautifully tortured riff takes Toki’s mind off the situation at hand. “Wowee,” he breathes, eyes closed and chin tipped up as he lets the playing wash over him. “I...I guess...the voice ams wrongs.”

Skwisgaar swallows, blonde eyelashes dampening, “What does you means?”

Toki’s blue eyes meet his, sparkling with something dark and sad, as he murmurs, “I reallies loveds yous, Skwisgaar. You can hears it in everies note.”

Skwisgaar squeezes his eyes shut, tears rolling down his face. “I knows, Toki. I wish I coulds have tolds yous the same, when alls of yous minds ams theres.”

He rests his forehead against Toki’s, eyes tightly shut, and Toki’s strong hands come up and cup his face. One of his own hands falls over Toki’s heart, reveling in the strong beat of it for what could be the last time.

“I’m sos sorries, Toki,” Skwisgaar whispers, as he holds the vial of poison up to the brunette’s mouth. Toki suddenly looks unsure, and scared, the demon surely screaming at him to get out of there. But he listens to himself play, and eyes rove lovingly over Skwisgaar’s face one last time, before he squeezes his eyes shut and lets Skwisgaar guide it down his throat. They stand there, together, as Toki’s Flying V croons in their ears, and he swallows down the poison. He blinks, inhaling sharply, and Skwisgaar can feel his heart rate quicken underneath his hand. The blonde chokes out nervously, “T-Tokis?”

“Skwisgaar...” Toki whispers, clutching at him, and his eyes slowly start to slide closed as his heart rate rapidly starts to slow. Skwisgaar holds him, eyes clouding over with tears, as Toki’s legs buckle, and his head drops against the blonde’s shoulder. In just a matter of seconds, everything stops, and when Toki goes, he takes Skwisgaar’s heart with him.

Now all he can do is wait.

Chapter 11: rebirth

Chapter Text

He’s dying. He can feel it in every sense of the word, as poison spreads through his body, as clammy fingers clutch at him desperately. One minute, everything’s burning, spinning, ending - and the next, there’s nothing.

When his eyes slowly flutter open, his vision is full of blue eyes and blonde hair and a nervously stoic pout, and he hazily swoons at his beauty as usual. It takes him a second to realize, however, that Skwisgaar is ten years younger - his hands caressing the sides of Toki’s face, the tips of his nose and ears pink from the cold air. The moon is shining on his face, the lights of the city sparkling behind him, and this all seems so familiar. Skwisgaar’s eyes are on his lips, voice quiet as he mutters, “Kissingks is the warmup. The endgame is wantings them to beg you fors it. Now pay attentions.”

Was it all a dream? Did the past ten years never really happen, and he had merely blacked out while his nerves got the best of him on the balcony? He tries to remember anything about the life he lived, about his bandmates, about himself, but nothing is coming to his mind. It slips through his fingers like sand, as Skwisgaar leans in and presses his lips against Toki’s, and maybe he did die, and now he’s in heaven. But suddenly, for the first time in what feels like forever, memories start to glitter across his closed eyelids as Skwisgaar’s lips move against his own.

-

Pickles caught in a fit of laughter, a blunt twirling between his fingers like a drumstick, a cloud of smoke surrounding them as a red-eyed Toki hacks up a lung. One of his drummer’s rough hands jostles Toki close, patting him on the chest with the other, “There you go, buddy! You did it! And what doooo we sey now? Remember?”

“I says ‘f*ck yous’ to my dads!” Toki repeats dutifully, taking another drag off the joint in his own hand, and the two of them laugh as they flick their middle fingers up to the sky.

-

Nathan, AK-47 in one hand and a cigar smoking in the other as the two of them stand on top of the Eiffel Tower together. Toki is wearing a very zazzy “18th Birthday Bitch” sash, his own gun popping off into the air as he leans against the frontman, the two of them looking out over the dazzling lights of Paris together.

“You better never f*cking tell anyone this. I’m too drunk to care about having...emotions,” Nathan grumbles, eyes blinking in different intervals as he leans against the edge of the tower. “But. I never had like, a little brother. Or like, a kid, or whatever. But you kinda feel like...yknow. Both, of those things. To me.”

-

Murderface, pre-mustache, sprawled out on the floor, and the bassist looks...excited, as he one-handedly holds up a magazine to an equally smooth-faced Toki. “You came to the right placesch! A man’s mustache is his whole f*ckin’ WORLD! You ever think about rocking the fu-manchu?”

“Let’s do the no-shaves Novembers, Moiderface! We can grows them togethers!” Toki beams excitedly, painting Murderface’s fingernails of his other hand black, and Murderface's eyes light up in consideration.

-

“f*ck YOU GUYSCH! IVE GOT A MEETING WITH MY PLANET PISSCH BACKERS IN TEN MINUTES! THESCHE ARE MY GOOD f*ckING SHORTSCH!” Murderface is pounding on his barricaded door furiously, as Toki and Skwisgaar cry themselves laughing on the bed. Skwisgaar holds up the pieces of fabric from the asscheeks they cut out of his pants, sending the two of them further into a fit of hysterics.

-

Little moments with his bandmates like that breeze by him for as long as Skwisgaar kisses him, and the crippling emptiness in his heart starts to fade away. He slowly starts to remember them, really and truly - the way Nathan’s death growl makes him feel at home, the way Pickles would secretly hold his hand when he’d sense that Toki was scared, the way that Murderface would fight off a smile when Toki would make him laugh, the way that Skwisgaar refused to do anything if Toki wouldn’t get to do it with him.Their faces in his mind bleed back into color, lighting up, and he finally feels the sensation that he’s finally able to grab what he’s been reaching for. They’re not just his bandmates, or even just his friends. They’re his family, his brothers, and as he remembers them, he remembers the love he felt for each of them. He knows them. He knows that he knows them, and finally, he’s remembering...

Skwisgaar pulls back just an inch, ending the stream of memories. His voice is gentle as his fingers run against Toki’s face, “Kiss mes back. Just keeps tryingks. Don’t freaks out. Kissingks is all about the patience.”

Toki moves back in, the wind carding through his short brown hair, and when his lips touch Skwisgaar’s, the memories start back up again.

-

“I can’ts goes backs,” Toki sobs desperately, eyes squeezing shut. “My dads, he—“

“Toki. Listen to me,” Charles’ voice is firm, but soft, as he puts his hands on Toki’s shoulders. The brunette had been crying, trying to hide behind the short curtain of his hair, but he forces his watery blue eyes to look at his manager. “I’ve spoken with immigration. It’s all been, ah, taken care of. You don’t have to go anywhere.”

Toki sniffles, asking in nervous disbelief, “Y-You...? You swears?”

Charles gives him a terse hug, “As long as I’m around, you’ll never have to go back there. I, ah. I promise.”

-

A child-version of himself grips to his guitar like a lifeline, big blue eyes terrified, thin body so frail and small, as Aslaug Wartooth sends his soulless gaze down at him. He points a finger, suddenly, and Toki knows exactly where he’s supposed to go.

The punishment hole. Slowly, it comes back to him, bringing a tidal wave of bad childhood memories with it. He remembers carrying heavy things until his little legs gave out, he remembers trying his hardest to stay standing up as he sweeps snow in nothing but a t-shirt and shorts. He sees himself sitting with his little straw clown, wishing there was someone there to rescue him, wishing he could get out of there—

-

Magnus smirks, dark curls curtaining his face as he tosses a dog dish full of food just out of reach. “It’s funny, how nobody wants to come and rescue you. Has it always been like that? Has anyone ever cared enough to help you?”

-

Magnus’ fingers dig sharply into the steering wheel of his old Miata, as Toki practically vibrates in his seat next to him. The brunette is wearing a dark tuxedo, but his eyes are bright as he holds his hands over his heart and swoons, “And thens, he saids, ‘Sounds like a dates to mes.’ Can you believes it? Afters all this times, he still wants to goes out with ‘ol Toki! Maybes he still loves me afteralls!”

God, he and Magnus had been friends, hadn’t they? The feeling of aching betrayal that came with every round of abuse the musician put him through in captivity make him feel like his unbeating heart is being burned. The green room that he had nightmares about, it was...it was his torture chamber. Him and Abigail were put through hell, and even through everything, he had still wanted to see the best in Magnus, but once he brought Skwisgaar into things...

-

Toki breaks the kiss, and he looks at Skwisgaar’s face. The blonde looks...enchanted, and he probably doesn’t even realize it. His eyes are glassy, cheeks blazing, and Toki realizes that this is it. This is the moment, that Toki fell in love with Skwisgaar. The best, most defining moment of his life outside of his audition for Dethklok. He fades back into remembering, as hears himself whisper, “Thanks you, Skwisgaar, for the reallies nice first kisses."

-

His first show with Dethklok flashes through his mind. He and Skwisgaar played so perfectly together, their guitars ringing out of the Depths of Humanity with such impressive coordination that people were flooding in off the streets just to hear. Skwisgaar had been headbanging as he played, and his fingers keep flying across his fretboard as he looks over at Toki through strands of golden locks, and smiles at him. It’s the first time anybody has ever been proud of him before, and the first time Skwisgaar smiled at him like that.

-

The memory changes. Toki’s chin-length hair flies behind him, hints of his new mustache starting to come in, as he runs barefoot through the sand. He’s carrying Skwisgaar in a bear hug, blonde hair swinging and blue eyes huge as the Swede tries to throw a diva tantrum through his laughter. And this isn’t his little “eeuhuhuhh” snotty chuckle - but big, deep, uncontrollable giggles that shake his entire body and bring tears to his eyes. “Toki! Puts me downs, you crazies dild*!”

“I cants believes you broughts me heres! I always wanteds to sees the oceans!” Toki exclaims, vibrating with excitement, and his feet hits the water and he screams giddily before swinging the two of them into the ocean. Skwisgaar’s hair is plastered all over his face when they come up out of the water, hissing through his bubbly laughter, “You —ahahuheugh—gots my hairs euahhahhall wets!”

Toki realizes, somewhere distantly, that this was the reason why his mind always took him to the ocean when he was in the coma. Skwisgaar had taken him to this beach as a surprise, only a few days after Toki joined the band and he’d confessed he’d always wanted to see the ocean. It was the day that they first became friends, the first act of kindness he’d received from a bandmate. Years later, when they were “benefit friends,” Skwisgaar planned them a week-long getaway at the very same beach, which was the memory Toki had earlier that morning. But he was wrong - it wasn’t the end of something. It was the grand romantic gesture that made Toki realize that Skwisgaar loved him back, and it inspired him to tell him outside of the bus that next week.

-

“Holds still, little dild*,” Skwisgaar murmurs, one of his soft hands maneuvering Toki’s face around as the other dabs the corpse paint onto his face. He glances back and forth, to make sure nobody’s looking, and then he leans forward and kisses him tenderly, smearing the white paint that’s already on his own lips. He pulls back, eyes shining, “There, now yous lips ams done. Two bords with one stone.”

-

It all rolls over him, as Skwisgaar’s face in front of him softens into an expression that Toki had never seen on him up until that point. Every kiss, every stolen glance, every moment when they managed to sneak away from the band and melt into each other. The love - the blinding, all-encompassing love that they had tried to ignore, but had been swept up in regardless. The heartbreak - constantly fighting because they couldn’t properly express their mourning for their relationship, pretending to be nothing more than friends for all those years, pouring his feelings into cassette after cassette in hopes that some day he’d get the courage to let Skwisgaar listen to them.

Somewhere, distantly, the riffs from a cassette that he made for Skwisgaar plays. He used to shred on the guitar, didn’t he? Every single time he played with Dethklok flashes through his mind. His audition, his last show, and everything in between. He remembers what it feels like to pound his fingers against the fretboard of his guitar and lose himself in the electric adrenaline rush that only playing could give him. He’s a guitarist, at his core - and Dethklok is everything to him. They’re his band, family, and he’d die for them.

And he did die for them. Everything since he’s been awake from the coma floods back to him, but something sticks out more than anything else: “Does you undorstands? I loves you, Toki, with everythingks that I ams. We haves to gets you back, because I needs you backs…”

Skwisgaar loves him. He’s been waiting so, so long to hear those words from him - and there was no way in hell he’d lay back and die while everything he ever wanted was waiting for him on the other side. If his life has taught him anything, it’s to never give up. He pushed through a childhood of torture, and he got into Dethklok. He pushed through five months in a basem*nt dungeon, and he made it back to Skwisgaar. He pushed through a demon invading his mind, and his happy ending waits for him. Like Skwisgaar said when they were at the hospital, and at the gala, “I'll waits. I'll always bes waitings.” Well, he’s waited long enough.

“Comes back to mes,” Skwisgaar says, breaking the continuity of the memory, pushing his forehead against Toki’s. “Please, Tokis. Comes back.”

When has he ever been able to say no to Skwisgaar? There’s nothing he can do, except for listen.

Toki feels his fingers twitch, feels the air breathe back into his lungs, and the darkness of the cityscape around them clicks into a bright, blinding light. His eyes snap open, and he silently gasps for air as the world falls back into place around him.At first, he has no idea where he is. The ceiling looks like a sunroof above him, but the water is dark and murky, and several fish swim by overhead. They must be back in the Dethsub, he realizes faintly, and Charles must’ve thrown him together another makeshift hospital room. The room is dark, save for the dim flash of a TV and some melting candles on a gurney nearby.

There’s four chairs against the wall, occupied with Nathan, Pickles, Murderface, and Charles. It seems so familiar - the band waiting for him to come home, to wake up, to remember them. They really do love him, don’t they? They didn’t replace him, even when they didn’t know if he’d ever be back to normal, and he was pretty sure that if he didn’t make it, they would’ve ended the band. After all those months of Magnus telling him that he was disposable to them, that they’d replaced him, he was so, so happy to see him be proven wrong.

He realizes, as his nerves start to pop back to life, that there’s very familiar long fingers curled around his own. That’s when his nose decides to start working again, and he smells it. Madly expensive, sweet shampoo, scented like the ocean - Skwisgaar’s been using it since Toki first met him, and Toki remembers that. He remembers it all, and he’d have never known his heart had stopped earlier, because it’s absolutely hammering in his chest now.

Toki’s eyes shift blearily, and then, there he is. Skwisgaar Skwigelf, in all his golden-haired, stoic-faced glory. He’s in a stool next to Toki’s bed, one hand on his chin as he watches TV, his other wrapped up tightly in Toki’s. He looks so tired, so beautiful, so wonderfully familiar - Toki just stares at him for a second, and he feels the tears already brim the corners of his eyes. He dreamed about the moment he’d be back in the blonde’s arms every single day that he was in captivity, and here they are, finally reunited. He isn’t sure why he feels like he’s just seeing Skwisgaar now for the first time since he’s woken up from the coma - maybe their memories since then didn’t really feel like they counted, because Toki had no idea what Skwisgaar meant to him then. But he knows now - Skwisgaar said it. He said he’s loved him the whole time, and what did he do to deserve this beautiful guitar god’s love?

“—believe I didn’t realische it!” Murderface’s voice rings through his ears, and it’s so jarringly good to hear him talk that it almost makes Toki burst into tears right there.

“I know, right?” Pickles says, his classic Wisconsin drawl music to Toki’s ears, “Like, if y’think about it, it was so f*ckin’ ahvious.”

“I, ah. I always knew,” Charles says coolly, eyes never leaving his laptop. “Pickles is right, it was...painfully obvious. Apologies, Skwisgaar.”

The blonde rolls his eyes dramatically.

“Yeah, like the, uh. The Thunderhorse sh*t? That was kinda....mmnff,” Nathan trails off into a grumble. “And you know, now that I think about it, I can f*cking remember the two of them always disappearing. I thought they were like, I don’t know, doing Scandinavian sh*t together.”

Pickles raises an eyebrow, stifling a laugh, “What didja think ‘Scandinavian sh*t’ involved, Nate?”

“I don’t f*cking know! Going to IKEA? Not f*cking...stuff with their dicks, that’s for sure! Not that—not that there’s anything wrong with that,” Nathan’s eyes dart around a bit nervously, and Pickles solemnly pats him on the arm. “I heard that being gay is, uh. Metal—“

“f*ck!” Murderface slams his hands down on his thighs in realization. “Do you guysch remember, Toki dated that really hot girl, who looked juscht like f*cking Skwischgaar, and we never even talked about it. And Skwischgaar, your f*cking schtupid girlfriend in Sweden looked just like—“

“Looks, I knows, okays? We ams reallies obvious and you guys amnst okzervants enoughs to realize,” Skwisgaar levels them with a look of annoyance, and that’s what gets Toki. The minute he hears that voice, sees that look of classic condescending sass, it’s too much.

“Skwisgaar,” he hears himself croak out, desperately, and the blonde’s head snaps over to him as Pickles, Nathan, and Murderface’s jaws all drop in unison. Nathan goes to jump up and run over, but Pickles holds up a silent hand, stopping him, whispering for him to “give ‘em a second.”

Skwisgaar’s throat bobs as he stares at him through huge blue eyes, completely unmoving. Long eyelashes flutter, full bottom lip wobbling, as Toki reaches forward and cups his face, unconsciously mirroring what he did when he first came out of his coma. The blonde looks terrified, like he’s going to shatter, and so afraid to be hopeful as Toki rubs his thumb against the planes on his cheekbones.

“Toki...” Skwisgaar’s voice is painfully fragile as it shakes, “A-Ams it reallies yous?”

Toki nods, and he feels a wobbly, watery smile grace his features, especially as light slowly blossoms in Skwisgaar’s widening eyes. His heart hammers in his chest, tears brimming in his eyes as he whispers, “I gots to says, before anythin else happens - I loves you, Skwisgaar. Even when I couldnst remembers you, I...I always knows I loves you. Yous ams my sjelevenn, you knows?”

Skwisgaar’s bottom lip wobbles, and he bursts into tears as he grabs Toki’s face and crashes their lips together. Toki, always the copy-cat, breaks right along with him. Tears roll down his face, hands sliding into Skwisgaar’s hair, and he’s waited for this moment for so, so long. He had been resigned to the fact that he’d never get this again, he had forgotten having it entirely, and he’s never been more desperate for anything as the blonde kisses him hysterically, long fingers clutching at his face, his hair, his arms, just to make sure he’s real. Distantly, he can hear Pickles cheering along with several sets of clapping in the background.

“I loves you, I loves you, I loves you so f*ckingks much,” Skwisgaar accentuates each sobbed out gasp with a kiss, hands on either side of Toki’s face. “The wholes time, I—“

“I knows, you stupids dild*. You finallies f*ckins saids it,” Toki’s teary eyes sparkle as Skwisgaar chokes out a laugh, plush lips never ceasing to kiss all over his face.

“Is a f*ckingks mess without yous, Toki. For the loves of Odin, nevor leaves me agains,” Skwisgaar says desperately, dropping his face against Toki’s chest, clawing at the fabric of his shirt as if it’s grounding him to this plane of existence. His voice sounds so pained, muffled by Toki’s chest as he chokes out, “I-I thoughts I lost yous, so many times...”

“Looks at me,” Toki says gently, but firmly, and Skwisgaar hesitantly lifts his tear-stained face. To someone who doesn’t know him, they’d assume that Skwisgaar is stoic and unflappable. But Toki knows, in this moment especially, that it’s not the case. Skwisgaar is just a guy who fell in love - with Toki, for some reason he’ll never understand - and is absolutely terrified of letting himself be loved in return.

“I’m backs, Skwisgaar. I’m not goins anywheres, and I’m never forgettins you agains. Yous dealins with me forevers,” Toki promises, pressing their foreheads together and putting Skwisgaar’s shaky hand over his heart. “See? Still beatins, and it ams all for yous.”

“Will holds you to thats,” Skwisgaar murmurs tearfully, leaning forward to press his plush lips against the thumping pulse in his neck, fluttering there. He can hear the unspoken words: I’m so happy you’re still alive. Toki tucks a strands of blonde hair behind the Swede’s ear, and Skwisgaar’s blue eyes are so full of teary adoration when he looks up at him that it takes all the air out of his lungs.

“IM SHICK OF THIS SCHIT!” All of a sudden, Murderface launches himself into Toki’s bed, burly arms wrapping around him as he plants another big kiss to the side of his face. “Is anybody gonna ask me how IM doing with all of thisch?! I’m your best f*cking friend! I was grieving too! But no hom*o! You guysch are gay, not me!”

“Aww, Moiderface!” Toki hugs him back, beaming, “No hom*os.”

“Yeah, sorry to, uh. Ruin the moment. But,” Nathan finally breaks and barrels over, grabbing Toki by his shirt and giving him a good shake. “NEVER put your life over any of ours again. You f*cking understand me? I’d rather be f*cking dead then have you—! Uh. Yeah. Just...f*ck, get over here.”

Nathan hugs him tightly, and Toki feels tears threaten to fall all over again as he hugs him tightly back. “I missed you too, Nathans.”

“Cahm on, let me in!” Pickles is over on the other side of the bed, trying to squirm onboard, and Nathan and Toki both open up a space for him. That familiar smell of weed and spicy cologne fills his nose as Pickles cuddles in close, and Toki’s surprised to hear his drummer’s voice thick with tears as he sniffles, “Glad to have you back, dude. We were...heh, we were really losin’ it without ya.”

“Reallies?” Toki beams, and he’s surprised when everyone nods in agreement.

“Yes, we, ah. We all unanimously agreed that Dethklok isn’t...well, Dethklok, without you,” Charles says, a rare, soft smile directed at Toki, and the guys let go of him so he can hug his manager.

“Thanks you, for everythins, Charlies,” Toki whispers against his shoulders, and Charles merely hums in response as he hugs him back. Toki wipes his face as they break, laughing tearfully, “Wowee, I didnst knows you guys would miss me sos much! Maybe it’s not the bass whats ams the foundation of the band, but Toki!”

Murderface glares, “Okay, letsch not get carried away.”

“Speakin’ of,” Pickles grins, rooting around next to Toki’s bed before holding up—

“My guitars!” Toki gasps, stars in his eyes, and it’s been so long since he’s last played! The morning of Roy Cornickelson’ funeral, he had been so excited for his date later with Skwisgaar, and so sad that their band was about to separate for good, that he had nervously pounded out some riffs right before leaving. His fingers ached for it ever since, even when he didn’t have his memory and the instrument seemed too ominously untouchable to play.

Skwisgaar’s eyes light up too, clutching excitedly to Toki’s arm, “Ohs my gods! You gots to plays!”

“I seems to remembers you sayins that if I wakes up from my comas, you maybes gives me a solo,” Toki leers at the blonde, who can’t even pretend to look irritated as he shoots a sparkling smile back at him.

“I saids if you f*ckingks practice, dild*.”

With shaky hands, he takes the guitar from Pickles. He looks around him, just savoring the moment - all his best friends cuddled around him, eager to watch him play, happy to have him there. Magnus had told him so many times that this would never happen, that their love for him wasn’t real - but he knows in his heart that it is, and even without his memory, he still knew. He knows it’s going to take a lot of work to feel back to normal, after all the trauma he’s been through. But his heart is where it needs to be, and Skwisgaar nuzzles close to him as he hefts the guitar into his lap.

He’s got his mind, he’s got his band, and he’s got Skwisgaar’s heart. That’s all he’ll ever need, and if he had to go through all that pain to get it, then one truth is blatantly obvious - it was all worth it.

He inhales, and he plays.

Eventually, everything ends up settling down. Skwisgaar falls asleep while they’re still on the Dethsub, curled up with Toki as the brunette softly fingerpicks on his Snow Falcon. As the rest of his bandmates retire to their own rooms, Nathan can’t help but absorb the moment of his two guitarists. Skwisgaar‘s finally letting himself get some f*cking sleep. He doesn’t look miserable and lost anymore, like he’s only got half of his heart and he’s ghosting on autopilot - he has his Toki back. They look so, unimaginably happy together, and that’s all a lead singer can want for his bandmates, isn’t it?

Nathan, admittedly, was surprised to find out the two of them have been in love for so long. If he really racks his memory, he can bring up some stolen moments that he’d written off as simple close-friends weirdness, but...f*ck. Their band is way more gay than he thought it was, and Nathan finds he really can’t give a f*ck. They all deserve to be happy - Skwisgaar and Toki especially, and he’s going to support the sh*t out of their relationship.

He doesn’t wait long to slowly creak open the door to Pickles’ room. It’s funny, to think that there was a time the two of them were on this sub, fighting over Abigail. Er, Pickles was fighting to keep him away from Abigail, but...luckily, that’s in the past. Nathan knows they weren’t ready for this, between the two of them, back then. But he’s f*cking ready for it now.

His drummer is all cuddled up in his blankets, but not asleep - he watches the fish swim by outside his window as he takes a long drag off the smoking joint between his fingers. Maybe everything with Toki has made Nathan...appreciate things more, because he takes this in too. It’s such a simple moment, but it still makes his heart violently hammer in his chest. Nathan lightly knocks his big fingers against the door, and Pickles looks at him in some type of surprise.

Nathan can’t help but think about last night - he had snuck into bed with his drummer, bawled his eyes out like a little girl or a baby or something else that’s pathetic and weak, and they...did things. Gay things. He thinks about the way they melted into each other, tearfully and passionately, rough hands and a studded tongue all over him and—f*ck. He wouldn’t change the way last night with Pickles went down for the f*cking world, and he thought he’d be having more of a crisis over being super f*cking gay for his drummer, but he only feels excited to get to kick this sh*t into overdrive. This in mind, he clears his throat and growls quietly, “Uh. Hey.”

“Hey, Nate,” Pickles smiles in that adorably crooked way, but it doesn’t really reach his eyes. “Whet a f*ckin’ day, huh?”

“My god, I know,” Nathan shakes his head, and when Pickles invitingly lifts up the blanket he doesn’t hesitate before slipping into bed with him. They don’t cuddle, not yet - they just kinda sit shoulder-to-shoulder, comfortably, passing the joint back and forth and watching the fish go by. Things are always so comfortable with the two of them - Nathan remembers when they first met, had their first beer together; it had felt like they’d known each other for lifetimes, just after a few moments. Maybe that’s what it’s like to have a soulmate, which sounds really f*cking corny, but something tells him he’s right.

“Gahd. Everything’s...heh...finalley going back to normal, huh?” Pickles’ voice is strained, and when he passes Nathan the joint, his fingers shake. Nathan’s big dumb brain suddenly realizes that this isn’t normal Pickles weirdness - he’s upset. He turns to look at him, and sure enough, he’s got that wobbly, nervous expression that Nathan is all too familiar with.

“What’s wrong?” Nathan’s voice sounds uncharacteristically soft to his own ears, and he puts out the joint on the nightstand before turning his attention to his drummer.

“I dunno, dude,” Pickles mutters, tugging at his dreds, and Nathan feels a foreign nervousness settle over him. Oh god, did he do something wrong? Could Pickles break up with him, even though they’re not like, together, yet? Last night, they had almost their entire future after Dethklok mapped out, and it seemed like Pickles was really f*cking eager to spend the rest of his life palling around with Nathan in Europe. How could that have changed so quickly? How could—?

“The band isn’t, ahm, endin’ anymore,” Pickles says, snapping him out of his inner turmoil. “Sooo. Just do it, okey? I can take it, dude. I understand.”

Nathan blinks, “Do, uh...? Do what.”

Pickles swallows audibly, green eyes squeezing shut, “Tell me we just gotta go back to bein’ pals, since we still gotta be bandmates ‘n sh*t.”

Nathan’s eyes slowly widen in realization. The two of them had been eager to ride off into the sunset, when they thought Dethklok was ending and they could just be regular jacko*ffs together. But now...now, the band was going to make the biggest comeback in history. Seemingly confirming Pickles’ fears, Nathan mumbles, “We, uh. Yeah, we do still have to be bandmates.”

“Yeeeeah,” Pickles’ shoulders slump, eyes lowering. “I git it, Nate. I know y’want everythin’ back to normal real bad, and—“

“No. f*ck normal,” Nathan growls, and Pickles’ green eyes snap to the frontman in shock. “Everything...everything has to change, in order to keep running. After all that we’ve been through since the funeral, it’s...sh*t can’t stay the way it was. Toki and Skwisgaar...they’re going to be different now. Our band, is different, and...and we’re, uh, different. You and me.”

Nathan takes Pickles’ hands in his, and his drummer looks absolutely stunned silent. Nathan can’t really blame him for being surprised - he’s never really been good with speeches, but he has a feeling he might be nailing this one. He continues, “We have to...change. We’re not gonna wait for someone to die or lose their mind to, uh. Realize we want each other. Because I....uhhhhhh. I already f*cking know that I want you.”

Pickles’ face is blazing, and he looks so desperately hopeful as he stammers, “S-So...y’wanna...? You really wanna...give this a shaht?”

“I’m sure as f*ck not letting you go,” Nathan’s grating voice is soft, and his own heart is absoloutely hammering in his chest. “So. I still mean it, when I said that we can be...more. I want to be more.”

Nathan gently takes one of Pickles’ hands, and Pickles’ eyelashes flutter as Nathan raises it to his mouth. “Oh, dude,” Pickles breathes, face flushing wildly, a tremor making its way through his body as Nathan kisses the back of his hand.

“Yeah,” Nathan rasps, and he moves in, just so their noses just brush, and Pickles’ breath hitches in his throat as Nathan whispers hesitantly, “You sure that, uhhm. This is what you want? Me, I mean. Do you, uhm, want....me, too.”

Honestly, trying to understand why Pickles likes him has been the thing he’s had the most trouble with since this started between the two of them. Pickles is smart, lovable and charming, and out of all the hot groupies in the world, why would he want to be with Nathan? Sure, he can death growl and eat a f*ckton of chips, but...Pickles could do better. He’s f*cking Pickles.

“Nate,” Pickles’ green eyes are serious as he tucks a piece of Nathan’s dark hair behind his ear, almost as if he could read the frontman’s thoughts. “Lemme tell ya a story. Y’ready?”

Nathan’s can feel his own face flush, their noses still touching, and he nods almost imperceptibly.

“My dream, since I was a lil’ douchebaeg, was to be a rockstar. I never thaht I’d ever want anythin’ more’n thet. You can relate to the feelin’, with the band, yeah?” Pickles murmurs, voice soft, and Nathan nods his head again. “Yeah, well. f*ck that dream. It don’t even come close to whet I’d do to have you. I’d give it all up, do whatever it takes - I’ve never wanted anythin’ more in my f*ckin’ life.”

“God, that’s gay,” Nathan chokes, squeezing his eyes shut because he’s seconds away from f*cking crying again, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He sniffles, sharp teeth biting his bottom lip, “Yeah, I, uh. I know before, I said we couldn’t f*ck up the band, but...I don’t wanna be in Dethklok, if I can’t have you......be my goddamn f*cking boyfriend, or whatever the f*ck.”

“So, we’ll hafta put off Europe, fer a while,” Pickles murmurs, warm hands cupping the side of Nathan’s face, and his frontman melts into the touch. “But you got me, Nate. I’m all f*ckin’ yours, and we got a whole f*ckin’ palace of a house to be super goddamn gay in together.”

“f*ck yeah we do,” Nathan grins tearily at him, and then he kisses him, crushingly, giant hands cupping Pickles’ face with a a tearful urgency. They melt into each other, and he can feel Pickles smiling, stupidly happy, against his mouth as his small fingers caress the sides of his face. Nathan pulls back when they break to catch their breaths, growling softly, “Hey.”

Pickles blinks away a couple tears, grinning crookedly, “Heeeey.”

“I made a deal, with Charles. I’d go to the stupid f*cking gala with Abigail, and he’d...uh. Give us two weeks vacation,” Nathan says, not missing the way his drummer’s eyes sparkle excitedly. His cheeks go a bit ruddy as he continues, “I was kinda planning us, like, a special friender-bender. And I know it’s f*cking disgusting, but it was going to be.....hhnnmfffppphh.”

Pickles’ eyebrows raise, an incredulous smile on his face, “Going to be whet?”

“Romantic,” Nathan snaps, ruddiness a full burning blaze. “We had only kissed once, when I made the deal, so...I was trying to figure out ways I could like. Recreate the moment without looking stupid. But now, yknow, we worked it all out, so...”

“So now it’s a boyfriender-bender,” Pickles grins crookedly, and Nathan growls out a laugh as he puts a hand over his face. His drummer cuddles in close to him, “I’d be totally f*ckin’ down to go on a boyfriender-bender with you, Nate.”

“Cool. Then let’s f*cking do it,” Nathan’s voice drops into the death growl at the end, even though he’s so f*cking happy that he can barely even believe this is really happening. Especially when Pickles kisses him, warm and familiar and feeling like home. Maybe they’d have to wait awhile for Spain, but they’d get there someday. He cups either sides of his drummer’s face, and he embraces his new normal.

Chapter 12: epilogue

Chapter Text

One week later

Charles Foster Offdenson does not like failing at things. Especially when said things relate to Dethklok - his employers, his bread and butter, his boys - and he had definitely been feeling...subpar, as of lately. But then, he saw the footage, he figured out the twist, and Skwisgaar took his offer to expel the demon from Toki’s mind. Instead of passing on, Toki came back, and as he watched his band hug each other tearfully in the brunette’s hospital bed, Charles didn’t feel like so much of a failure anymore.

Where are they now , now? Charles sits the kitchen table, a glass of brandy cradled in his hand as the sun rises outside, and he turns on the TV. The boys had all been chattering, helping themselves to the breakfast buffet, but they turn their attention to the screen when they hear the Dethklok Minute chime.

“Oooh, our real cools comins out interviews ams finallies airins,” Toki‘s eyes sparkle, mouth full of banana bread as he squeezes Skwisgaar’s hand. There’s no blood oozing out of his eyes, no voices in his head - if Toki didn’t have the scars on his body as a reminder, and the remaining emotional trauma, there would really be no evidence Salacia was ever in Toki’s head at all.

Skwisgaar had woken him up the morning after Toki got his memories back, flatly stating that he was ready to tell the fans about him and Toki being sjelevenner (translation: soulmates, in Norwegian. Charles isn’t a romantic, but even he agrees), mostly so the groupies would “gets the hints.” But also because, in Skwisgaar’s words, “sos we can makes out in publics without someones flippingks they sh*ts.” The fans had already been hoping for a romance, and already been really pissed off without Toki - so Charles felt like using the relationship reveal would be a great tactic to smooth everything over. Sure enough, since this interview, everything seems to instantly have righted itself between Dethklok and its’ fans.

“Yeeeuh, but everybodies knows anyways,” Skwisgaar waves his free hand easily, hair tied back into a bun, shameless as ever as he rocks Toki’s rainbow unicorn fuzzy pants and daintily eats his cereal.

“Wow, Toki! All it takesch for you to get on the Dethklok Minute is to f*cking disschapear for a year, DIE, and then come out of the closchet!” Murderface grins, with no real malice, as he stuffs his face with his bucket of “breakfast” fried chicken. “And how could ANYBODY not know? All you two f*cking dicksch do is eat each othersch facesch all day! Now I gotta watch it in f*cking HD?!”

“Tries not to enjoys it too much, Williams,” Skwisgaar leers at him, and Murderface flicks him off as his bandmates laugh together. The blonde has had a newfound sense of peacefulness about him ever since he and Toki have been reunited, and the two of them have been impossible to separate (especially because nobody would dare to try). Every day of Toki’s first week back to normal consisted of guitar playing, laughing and bickering, and an excessive amount of PDA. Everyone was so happy to see them happy, that they couldn’t bring themselves to complain (besides Murderface, but it’s expected. He’s simply a dick).

Maybe the reason that none of them had ever seen Skwisgaar this happy before, was because he hadn’t actually reached this level of happiness prior to getting Toki back. Charles had known, from the moment that the band came back from its Chicago tour, that Skwisgaar was head over heels for his rhythm guitarist. Toki wouldn’t realize it until later, and Skwisgaar wouldn’t realize it for even longer - but Charles had known. Skwisgaar was always...crushed, by his feelings, in every sense of the word. It weighed him down, broke his heart time and time again - but now, that weight was gone. He gave in, he let himself get the love, and he had what he’s always wanted. Charles had a feeling he wasn’t going to waste any time making up for every moment wasted.

“Heeey, shut the f*ck up, I wanna hear this,” Pickles waves a hand at their bickering, subtly passing Nathan one of his cinnamon buns, and the frontman gets this tiny, gooey smile on his face when their fingers touch. God, this band.

“Wow, what a week it’s been in the life of our five favorite bandmates!” The Dethklok Minute’s host beams from the TV screen above the six of them. “Toki Wartooth, after barely having been seen for the past year, has finally come out of hiding! And along with Dethklok’s lead guitarist, Skwisgaar Skwigelf, they have some big news!”

“It ams trues, that the reason Toki has been outs of the, euugh, pukblicks eye, ams because wes ams...romanticallies involveds,” Skwisgaar says onscreen, the hint of a smile on his face as he and Toki hold up their intertwined hands. In the kitchen, Pickles and Nathan grin - they’ve been touchingly supportive of Toki and Skwisgaar, which Charles can appreciate. Even Murderface, as much as he complains, is undeniably happy for them.

“Yeps, we ams in loves, everyones! But you alreadies knows that, huhs? I reads all the fanfictions! And I means alls of thems,” Toki grins onscreen, nudging Skwisgaar suggestively.

“Of course you haves. Little babies Tokis can’t gets enoughs of mes,” the blonde leers, flipping his hair over his shoulder, and Toki just leans against him happily. Skwisgaar continues, “Dethkloks ams goings to be takingks it easies, for a little whiles. Not as many consorts, or publicities events...but we does gots some good stuffs comingks for all you dild*s fans out theres.”

The reporter asks, “Speaking of the fans, what about your vast expanse of groupies, Skwisgaar? Aren’t you worried about being in a relationship when you have all these women at your disposal?”

Skwisgaar rolls his eyes boredly, “I don’t gives a f*cks abouts that sh*ts. Toki ams veries, euuuhh, capablies in dats deparkments, sos, I have no needs for anybodies else.”

Naturally, being on the receiving end of praise (especially when that praise consists of Skwisgaar denouncing all other romantic partners), Toki’s face lights up as he smiles victoriously at the camera, “Ja, that ams rights! Go Toki!”

“GOD!” Murderface drops his flaming face into his hands. “You two need to f*cking KNOCK IT OFF with that schit—!”

“Are you two worried about messing with band dynamics, by adding romance into the mix?” The reporter asks, and the guitarists both look at each other with knowing smiles.

“Noes, we ams not worrieds,” Skwisgaar says airily. “The band dynamics will not change, because it haves always been likes this.”

“We always loves each others,” Toki nods in agreement onscreen. “We was just stupid dild*s and all this dumb sh*ts got in the ways. But it all works out, and we togethers for good nows!”

“Well, there you have it folks, our two favorite guitarists are in love and off the market, and although groupies are committing suicide at an alarming rate, fans all around the world are celebrating love! Especially because this week, Dethklok had their first show in over a year! And let me tell you, it did in fact deliver! Let’s roll some footage from the what historical experts are calling the biggest comeback of all time!”

Said footage starts, of the band playing together the night prior. They all look so happy to be there, to be all together. The screen flashes some highlight images - Murderface playing the bass with his dick, Pickles and Nathan with their arms around each other as they share a microphone during “Hatredcopter,” Charles with a hint of a smile on his face where he stands backstage, the fans going absolutely wild in the audience as a ridiculous amount of fire and pyrotechnics blaze around them.

The footage switches to Toki and Skwisgaar at the front of the stage, and the blonde steps back, gesturing for a shocked Toki to play by himself. Toki lets the warm stage light wash over his face, the cheering of his fans that are so happy to have him back, and he shreds as fast as his fingers can go. Skwisgaar’s face is an undeniable visage of gooey love, as he watches Toki lose himself in his Snow Falcon, headbanging and muscles flexing and fans screaming and the biggest smile on his face that’s been there in a long time. When the song ends, Toki is so exhilarated - jumping up and down, shaking the blonde, yelling “I dids it! My own solos!” before grabbing Skwisgaar by the face and kissing him. Pickles hoots and hollers, banging on his drums, and the fans explode into hysterical cheering.

“Relationships are now considered ‘metal’ again, especially as rumors about Pickles and Nathan continue to spring up in the media! Ever since this picture surfaced online, everyone has been in a ‘Nickles’ frenzy!”

In the kitchen, Pickles and Nathan both blush as the screen cuts to a mildly grainy snapshot of the two of them, trying to look inconspicuous in matching “That’s Doable” baseball hats at the aquarium. If one squints hard enough, they’d be able to see the two of them holding hands.

Charles is no fool - as soon as Nathan had blushingly asked him for vacation time for him and Pickles in return for going to the gala with Abigail, he knew precisely what it was for. And just a couple days ago, Nathan demanded said vacation time in full, and Charles hadn’t missed the excited glances that he and Pickles flashed at each other across the room. He has a feeling the two of them had worked out their own romantic feelings - Pickles’ hand seems to perpetually rest on Nathan’s knee, in the same way that Nathan is always reaching for his drummer’s hand. Every time, Pickles takes it.

“Fans have been going crazy about the remaining single members of Dethklok coupling up with each other! Besides William Murderface, that is - he’s been voted the perpetual band ‘fifth wheel!’ Hang in there, Murderface!”

Just to add insult to injury, one of the pictures of Murderface jacking it with the words “Single Forever?” dramatically stamped across appears onscreen. Charles can’t help it - he laughs, just a tiny bit, behind his hand. Murderface, meanwhile, jolts like he’s been shot as he slams his hands on the table, “WHAT THE f*ck. ME?? THE f*ckING FIFTH WHEEL?!”

“Now, the band is back at Mordhaus, and takin’ it easy! And that’s the Dethklok minute!”

Pickles flashes Skwisgaar and Toki one of his crooked smiles, beard full of cinnamon sugar, “So, it’s all finally out there now. How are y’feelin’?”

“We donts cares about the fans knowins, but...we wants to apogesacks, for keepins it from you guys,” Toki says, blue eyes genuinely apologetic. “You ams our best friends! You shoulds have known...”

“Hey. We, uh. We understand why you didn’t tell us. And we’re happy for you guys, or whatever,” Nathan announces, arms crossed across his chest as he scowls. His face reddens, as he looks to Pickles, who offers an encouraging nod. “And if we’re best honest, and trying to avoid, uhhh, history repeating itself. Me, uh. Me and Pickles....uhhhhhhhhhh. Are doing...stuff. And things. For like, forever. So, yeah.”

“Stuff and thingks?” Skwisgaar repeats questioningly. Murderface blinks, pausing his “fifth wheel” tantrum momentarily. Toki looks between the two of them, eyebrows slowly raising higher and higher. Charles is the first one to speak, “So, ah, you two have...confessed your, ehm.....feelings?”

“We’re f*cking death metal rockstars. We don’t have f*cking feelings ,” Nathan growls, even as he and Pickles hold hands underneath the table.

“f*ck that feelings sh*t,” Pickles agrees, tilting his chin up. “Two guys can’t just f*ckin’ pal around together, and make out ‘n hold hands ‘n crap, without people thinkin’ they wanna get married ‘n sh*t? That’s f*cked up. Right, Nate?”

“Oh. Yeah! f*ck marriage, my god,” Nathan gags, black curtain of hair flipping as he shakes his head. He pauses, and adds, as Pickles’ fingers play against the back of his wrist, “But if we. Yknow. Did, ever do anything totally stupid and gay like that. We would make it metal.”

“Ohhh yeah,” Pickles nods in agreement. “We could make like, stuff as stupid and lame as bein’ together ferever, ‘n gettin’ married and bein’ regular jacko*ffs totally f*ckin’ brutal.”

“Totally,” Nathan growls, and they look at each other. Pickles’ eyes are shining, a tiny, crooked smile on his face, and the frontman’s face melts into a visage of gooey fondness. Nathan mutters, squeezing Pickles’ hand, “We deserve to let our blackened, brutal hearts be...whole. With each other.”

“f*ck yeah. Good lyrics, Nate.”

“Wait. Wait wait wait,” Murderface holds his hands up, brain making the necessary computations. He inhales, then his tone is hostile, “I am NOT the f*cking FIFTH WHEEL! If you guysch were all planning on being gay, why couldn’t you have let ME get firscht dibs? I alwaysch get left out of everything!”

“Psssh. Awww, Williams ams sad he ams all by himskelf. Who woulds your forst dibs have beens?” Skwisgaar raises an eyebrow amusedly, chin in his palm.

“Not f*cking you, that’s for f*cking schure!” Murderface crosses his arms, tilting his chin up, “Obviously, it would’ve been Picklesch. He—“

“What the f*ck. No,” Nathan instantly says, as Pickles raises his eyebrows in surprise. “f*ck. Yeah, why do you have a picture of him under your pillow, Murderface? Don’t think I f*cking forgot about that.”

“IT WAS A f*ckING GIFT, YOU DICKSCH!”

Charles sighs in relief, as Dethklok falls into their usually rhythm of bickering, and he flicks off the TV. He looks down at the papers on his little makeshift desk in front of him - two Metallica tickets that Skwisgaar had asked him to order, next to Nathan and Pickles’ time-off form. Amongst his pile of papers, Charles eyes yesterday’s mail a bit uneasily. There’s a light pink envelope, addressed to Pickles - return address belonging to Sammy Twinskins, his old bandmate. Hopefully...that doesn’t raise any sort of problems. But if it does, well. Charles isn’t planning on going anywhere just yet.

He knows he can’t shepherd them forever, but. At the end of the day, they’ll always be his boys, and the Church of the Black Klok isn’t going anywhere, right? Charles fought hard for this happy ending, too.

There are still some loose ends that need to be tied up, after all - Toki’s started his therapy with Dr. Twinkletit*, on the road to coping with the trauma he went through with Magnus, and the...stress, of dying twice. Additionally, there’s the issue of Salacia, and that he’s still yet to locate Magnus’ whereabouts...which, is probably something he should really get on.

But for now? Well, for now, everything is finally right in their world. Everyone’s inexplicably happy - and that makes Charles happy, too, especially because he’s got a nice, long day of managerial work ahead of him. He glances back at the breakfast table, to the sight of the five of them laughing together. Charles knows the band has learned a lot of lessons, in the past year. He’s glad that loving each other more is one of them.

“Hey, Tokis? Is been...workingks on something for yous.”

Later that night, as the two of them wind down, Skwisgaar comes up behind the brunette, sweeping Toki’s hair aside, pressing plush lips against the back of his neck. Toki raises an eyebrow, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he catches up on feeding his Nintendogs. “Somethins for ‘ol Toki, huhs?”

“I know I was...lates, on sayingks that I loves yous,” Skwisgaar murmurs, playing with the ends of Toki’s hair. “But afters I heard your first cassettes, I had been saysing it in the onlies way that I knew how. You, eugh, know how we ‘calls and response,’ ja?”

Toki turns to look at him curiously, setting his DS down, blue eyes lifting up to the blonde. It’s so good to see him looking like himself, that Skwisgaar can barely breathe. No empty, bleeding eyes, no muttering to the voice in his head. He looks like Toki, the stupid little dild* who controls the entirety of Skwisgaar’s heart, and the blonde smiles lovingly at him.

“Here ams your response,” Skwisgaar kisses his forehead delicately, then reaches underneath his bed. He hefts a pristine white box into Toki’s lap, raising an eyebrow as he waits patiently for his love to open it. Toki’s eyelashes flutter as he pulls off the top with more grace then he usually has when opening presents (every Christmas morning for the past ten years, he’s watched Toki ravenously tear open things he’s spent hours intricately trying to wrap), and a small gasp escapes his throat.

“You....copies mes,” Toki whispers, fingers brushing over all the neatly organized cassettes, looking up at Skwisgaar in shock. “You been makins them toos, this whole times?”

“Ja, see? They ams organized by dates,” Skwisgaar nods, pointing to the first one. “I didnst starts recordingks them until laters, but...this one ams what I playeds the nights of our forst kiss. I just neededs to blow off some steams because you gots me feelingks all messed ups, and I didnst knows it was a love songs, at the times, but...likes you saids, with yours. You can hears it in everies notes.”

“Oh, Skwisgaar...” Toki whispers, blue eyes filling up with tears, shaky hand over his mouth as he holds the box tight to himself, like it’s the most important thing he’s ever been given. The look on his face vaguely reminds Skwisgaar of the same dazzled shock he’d expressed when he found out he made it into Dethklok.

“I had been saysing it this whole times, in my own ways. And I know I should’ve been just tellingks you instead of beingks a stupid dild*s, but...maybes all that time isnt lost, after alls,” Skwisgaar smiles lopsidedly at him, tucking a piece of brunette hair behind his ear. He leans in to whisper, “What I ams tryingks to says is, I loves you, Toki. Takes it or leaves it.”

“I loves you too, Skwisgaar,” Toki smiles against his lips, breathless and happy, and the two of them melt into each other. One headphone ends up in Toki’s ear, the other in Skwisgaar’s, and they pop that first tape into the cassette player. Hand-in-hand, they sneak up to the roof of Mordhaus, and they kiss underneath the moonlight, just like they did that first night back in Chicago.

Skwisgaar listens, and he knows he’s right. You can hear it in every note.