Chapter Text
Skwisgaar was usually a deep sleeper. He had trained himself to be ever since he was a child; he had to get used to falling asleep to the sound of his whore mother’s nighttime orgies somehow, so he’d learned to just drown everything out, disconnect himself from being present in those moments. He had learned to just let himself get so exhausted that he’d pass out without waking up again to the sounds of his mom moaning the name of some random douchebag. But tonight, the thunderstorm was making it impossible to fall asleep, and his childhood coping mechanism wasn’t working. He was beyond exhausted and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t fall asleep. He was angry, mostly because the show Dethklok played earlier that night had been fucking brutal. And not because they were responsible for more deaths, cause fuck their fans, but because the rain didn’t stop and it caused an electrical issue with their equipment, which then resulted in all of Dethklok getting a quick zap of electricity through their instruments. Murderface threw his bass into the crowd, and they too were electrocuted, but far worse. Almost everyone fucking died when the bass exploded and caught the crowd on fire. The rain somehow didn’t stop the fire as the flames grew at rapid speeds and bodies began to pile up at the front of the stage. Some fans were still barely alive, faces melting off as they dragged their burned bodies with stumps for hands. The screams echoing throughout the chaos only pissed the band off, their instruments were fucking ruined.
“Well there goesh my basch! Fuck you guys!” Murderface flipped off the dying pile of fans and stormed offstage.
“Yeah, fuck you guys!” Pickles yelled.
The rest of the band followed, piling into to the Dethcopter and leaving another town maimed and completely destroyed.
“I uh… think that went well…” Nathan had said, staring ominously out the window at the rising flames of the fire. The crowd had become a writhing ball of melted flesh and bones beneath them.
“Brutal. Hey uh, Siri. Write that down. Song title: writhing ball of flesh and bone.”
Skwisgaar scowled as he recalled the previous events of the day, still fucking mad that the rain fucked up his guitar solo. And his hair. And his chances of getting laid. There were times, though they were rare, that he wished he could run away from this life. Live as a normal Jack off. No more responsibilities or trying to carry the whole band’s musical image. He had too much on his back that wasn’t his burden to carry, but everyone sucked lately, and it gave Skwisgaar a quick flashback to when they learned to play the blues, and he didn’t want another group ‘slump’. No one was ‘feeling’ it lately. Whatever ‘it’ was. And no one but Skwisgaar cared about practicing, writing music, or anything else. All the guys did was lay around and drink and expected Skwisgaar and Dick to just magically fix all the tracks they fucked up because they were all too hammered to get it right the first time.
This drunken shit show had been spiraling out of control for months, and this last show they played had Skwisgaar humiliated all over again. He used to be so proud to say he was in Dethklok. As of right now…he felt like he was part of a big joke. No one was laughing and it wasn’t funny. They sucked right now, and he needed to do something, or this was it.
. . .
“Eugh…Nathan’s dis ams maybe sounds likes asshole comments but…I thinks you ams gettingk lazy with de music latelys.”
Nathan grunted in response, eyes fixated on the blood and gore covered screen he was watching, reclining on the couch with his feet up. Skwisgaar stepped in front of the tv, hands on his hips. He felt like his mother. It was so gross.
“Ams you nots hears what I says?” He shouted, snatching the remote up and turning the volume down to prevent their ears from bleeding. Nathan did everything way too fucking loud.
“I heard you. I just don’t give a fuck. I’m fucking watching tv! So uh move…”
“Pickle? You ams thinks de same as him? Or agrees withs me? That he ams gets lazy.”
Pickles was lying on his back, arm slung over his face, nursing a hangover with another bottle of beer.
“Nnghhh…. okay Toki yeh dats great…”
Skwisgaar’s jaw dropped at such speed he heard it crack. He crossed his arms in sheer offense,
“it ams me talks-ing to you! Not Toki’s! Idiots…We doesn’t evens sounds de same!”
“Hey, fucks you! What ams wrong with being likes Toki?!” Toki screeched, slamming down his coloring book, the pages flapping everywhere and crayons clinking to the stone floor. He too crossed his arms, forcing a scowl on his usually soft expression.
Murderface groaned, yanking his knife out of the arm of the couch. He was such a foul sight to see, hand down the front of his pants like he had went to readjust himself, but knowing Murderface he was probably trying to jackoff to the bloody slasher film Nathan had on.
“Can you guysh schut up!? Nathan, tell them to schut up!”
“Uh yeah shut up. There…”
“Tells him to shuts up nots me!” Toki whined, flopping back on the couch and leaving his crayons mess for a Klokateer to clean up.
“I ams does all de works around here latelys, and none of you’s cares or helps me does not’ing! You ams all takes advantage of me! I writes all de notes, i plays dem, we can’t evens use Moiderface and Toki’s shitty playingk so I re-does dat too! And Nathan’s you gots to stops deletes all mines hard work everyday!”
“Oh geeeeze, Skwisgaar get over yourshelf! Your ego is bigger than my dick, I shwear!”
“That would mean his ego is small-“ Nathan commented, shoveling a handful of chips in his mouth, then wiping his hand on the arm of the couch.
“Fuck you, you’re fat!” Murderface yelled, hands flying up in defense, the front of his shorts was undone and he was free balling again, to everyone’s disappointment.
“You’re fatter.” Nathan shot back, eyes still locked on the tv.
Skwisgaar couldn’t take anymore of this. This life or this band. They were driving him fucking nuts. He found a gray hair last night too, so maybe that’s what sent him over the edge- or maybe it was Nathan’s terrible habit of chewing with his mouth open, or Murderface’s exposed hairy ballsack, but this was the last straw.
“Okej. I haves enough of dis. I quits.”
“Oh come on, don’t be a little bitch-“ Nathan grumbled, turning the volume up on the tv to drown out the yelling he anticipated would happen seconds from now.
“No! I quits dis bands! I quits you, and you and you! And especiallies you, Nathan’s! Don’t follows me, I ams leaves dis place tomorrow morning! I can’t does this shit anymore!”
“Where will ya go?” Pickles, who shocked everyone by forming a coherent sentence in his intoxicated state, asked.
Everyone went silent, Pickle’s question disintegrated in the air. Skwisgaar wouldn’t just threaten to leave if he didn’t mean it, he didn’t joke about shit like that. Dethklok was his life and his passion for most of his adulthood. He couldn’t just abandon them.
“Skwisgaar…? Where will ya go..?” Pickles repeated, eyes wide, a gleam of visible panic surging through them. If Pickles was worried, it was bad. Nathan stopped his chip binge and Toki’s mouth was hanging open like a goldfish gasping for air.
“I finds my own way likes I does before…alones.”
. . .
After his outburst and getting everything off his chest, Skwisgaar felt relieved. Having said all he wanted to, he left the guys in shock and went to his room to pack his things. He had no idea where he was going or for how long. Maybe he’d hitchhike somewhere better than this place. He had money, and lots of it. He just wanted to feel normal again. He wanted to be a regular guy who wasn’t famous worldwide. He just wanted to disappear for awhile and let his thoughts consume him. He wouldn’t go back to Sweden this time, too many uncomfortable memories. He’d figure something out, eventually.
He began to pack his suitcase when there was a soft knock on his door. He knew right away who it was.
“Comes in, Tokis.”
The door burst open and Toki tripped over his feet to where the blond was standing, clutching an armful of assorted clothes he never wore. Toki ended up on his knees, hands outstretched to Skwisgaar as if he were worshipping him.
“Skwisgaar please don’t leaves…What ams I supposed to does without you?!”
“You always sayingk how you wants to be playingk de solos, be de leads guitarist. Dere’s you goes. Haves it.”
Although the thought of being lead guitarist did make Toki’s thoughts begin to wander, he quickly rationalized that it wasn’t the way he wanted to achieve the title of lead guitarist. Not if it meant he lost Skwisgaar just to get it.
“But…I doesn’t wants it if you’s am not here. There, I says it! I don’t wants it. Wills you stay now?”
“Nej, Toki’s. Dere’s ams no bargaining abouts dis. I ams under-appreskiated here’s. Ams not worths it no mores.”
“Please don’t leaves me! Forgets de guys those assholes, stays with me!”
“Pfft. You still haves all de guys. And you’s stupid clowns friend. Why you cares if leaves?”
“I doesn’t…haves de same things with dem how’s I does you…”
“What’s de fuck dat means, heuh?” Skwisgaar huffed, tossing random items into his suitcase as the two spoke. He stepped around Toki, still on the floor, and opened his sock drawer. He balled up a few pairs of socks and tossed them over Toki’s head and onto his unmade sheets.
Toki chewed his bottom lip momentarily before boldly lifting his gaze from the floor.
“I…I doesn’t loves dem likes how I loves you…loves to be’s with you…”
Skwisgaar almost wished Toki would’ve just pulled a Murderface and said ‘fuck you’ because ouch. It hurt to be told he was loved when he felt so neglected and discarded lately.
Skwisgaar lowered his voice, and what could only be described as a melancholic scoff left his lips.
“You doesn’t knows what love ams, little Toki’s. You ams too young and gullible. You doesn’t knows what it means to falls in love.”
“Fucks you, yes I does! Ams not little anymores! I knows what love ams…It’s likes when you face gets warm and red and you hands feels sweaty when you sees de person you loves and how you always thinks about dem before bed…Or how’s you smells their shirts you stealed when they ams asleep because you missed them and can’t waits till mornings to sees them again. It’s when you uses their coffee cups cause you wants to maybes…be likes dem someday…”
Skwisgaar stared back into Toki’s hopeful blue eyes, and he felt sick after hearing this confession. He had too many of his own problems at the moment to reciprocate with his own feelings- but he figured he’d save them both the trouble and remain distant. That’s what he always did. What Toki didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. He didn’t need to know how Skwisgaar felt, that despite how much they fought and how Toki annoyed the living shit out of him at times, Toki’s friendship was the closest gesture of genuine love he’d ever received. And it fucking terrified him more than Oden or any of the Norse gods out there.
“Goodbyes Toki’s…I hopes you enjoys dis life here.”
Toki’s once eager face fell within seconds and he pulled himself up from the floor in such a way you’d assume he’d been kicked in the stomach.
“I needs you, Skwisgaar…please don’t goes…I…I thinks I loves you.”
“I haves to goes. You’s will be’s fine. Don’t says dat, you don’t wants to does dat love stuffs with me.”
Toki’s eyes prickled and stung like sand had been kicked in his face, watering until tears streaked down his cheeks. He was embarrassed to admit this secret he’d held close for a decade, only to have a wall thrown up in his face like he didn’t matter. What would he do now? No one understood him like Skwisgaar did. Skwisgaar was the whole reason he was in Dethklok to begin with. From the moment he’d laid eyes on him, Toki had idolized the older man from day one, and now his dreams came crashing down like roaring waves. More sand and salt water splashed in his eyes and he couldn’t stop fucking crying. It was ugly and he had snot on his face by the time he gained enough strength to choke out a response.
“Fucks you! I hates you for this! I fuckin hates you, Skwisgaar!” Toki pushed past the other and ran from the bedroom, palming at his tears angrily.
“I hates you too….” Skwisgaar mumbled, eyes on the floor. He waited until he couldn’t hear Toki’s footsteps anymore and then silently closed his door. He needed to get the fuck out of Mordhaus and he needed to get far away from this life.
. . .
The next morning was tension filled as Skwisgaar entered the kitchen from another sleepless night. A Klokateer carried his bags in one arm and another held his spare guitars.
“You can’t even drive dood. Where you gonna go?” Pickles was the first to acknowledge the situation, trying to be the brother of the group that he always wanted. A nice brother who also kinda acted like a concerned mom.
“Nones of you business Pickle.” Skwisgaar huffed, only feeling a twinge of guilt. Pickles was the least of his problems. Sure he was always drunk lately, but at least he could still play the drums decently. It was everyone else who still faced Skwisgaar’s wrath.
“Yeah well we told Charlesh what you’re doing and he’s really fucking mad!” Murderface was already yelling and it wasn’t even moon.
Skwisgaar just narrowed his eyes. “You is a walking headaches. And nej, he ams fines. I talks with him last nights. He says I can goes as I pleases.”
Nathan glanced up from his crossword puzzle where he’d been stewing in silent rage. Partially over this whole situation but mainly that he couldn’t remember how to spell tequila and it was fucking up his other words.
“You can’t just…fucking leave like this, alright. It’s…such a dick thing to do.”
“Yeah, we had a meeting about thish! Charlesh shaid…thingsh…like how you can’t leave us! Our mushic is on the line!”
Murderface said, slamming his fist down on the table with such force it broke the tip of Nathan’s pencil. Nathan exhaled through his nose like a pissed off ox and Murderface hoped he hadn’t just sentenced himself to death. He urgently removed himself from the table and stood by Pickles for some sense of false security.
Skwisgaar sighed, knowing he’d miss his friends, even though they were the dumbest bunch of motherfuckers he’d ever met.
“Well I ams leaving…and dats dat..”
Skwisgaar didn’t even hug Toki goodbye as he followed the Klokateers outside and it was the most heartbroken the young man had ever felt in his entire life. The only thing comparable would’ve been if Skwisgaar kicked him out of the band.
. . .
Text from: NATHAN, read, 8:26pm: ‘CHARLES. MEET US IN THE LIVING ROOM NOW!!!’
“Evening, gentlemen. How’s that ah, new record coming along? Good? Great.”
Nathan stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, a giant scowl on his face.
“Skwisgaar is being a total fucking dick! He’s quitting the band!”
“Can he even do daht?!” Pickles was frantic, he relied on Skwisgaar to keep Toki and Murderface in check during rehearsal and now it was all up to he and Nathan. Most likely the responsibility would fall on his shoulders because he knew how to play guitar- but not in the style Skwisgaar did. Pickles had played guitar longer than any of them and still wasn’t anywhere near the god-like ability Skwisgaar possessed.
Murderface butt in the conversation, sticking his big dumb head right in Charles face.
“And he said my bassh playing ish gonna be even more schit without him! Does he have no heart?! Wordsh hurt even the shtrongest of sholdiers…”
Nathan rolled his eyes, his ever-present frown still lingering. “You’re not a fucking solider. You’re a fat guy.”
Charles had worked with Dethklok long enough to know when to interfere in a conversation before it got out of hand. “May I interject? Skwisgaar has ah, told me of his decision to depart from the band. He ah, is feeling undervalued lately and wants to take some time to himself.”
“No! This is bull crap! It’s illegal to do…to do dat.”
“Pickles, any of you can leave if you wish to do so. There’s no contract in place saying you can’t. Therefore ah, not illegal.”
“Wait- sho if I want to jusht quit I can?”
“Yes, Murderface you can quit at any time.”
“…well fuck you I don’t wanna!”
Nathan had his back turned to everyone, eyes boring into the floor. It was finally sinking in that he was losing his lead guitarist. And friend.
“I can’t believe he’s really leaving…this is just fucked up.”
“He’s jusht pulling that whole drama queen schit again, like when he left to go find his dad in Shweden!”
Toki finally spoke up for the first time, jumping to his feet from the couch and grabbing Charles by the shoulders, shaking him until his glasses slid down the bridge of his nose.
“We haves to gets a restraining orders on him!”
Everyone paused and Charles cocked an eyebrow, pushing his glasses back into place. “A ah, restraining order on Skwisgaar? Toki, do you know what that entails?”
“Wells…ja…ams likes when you restrains him to dis house or to’s us! Don’t lets him goes, please!”
“That’s not what a restraining order does, Toki. Restraining orders keep someone away from you, not close to you, like ah…what we tried to do with Rockso. And I’m sorry, but Skwisgaar is allowed to leave and do what he wants. You all are.”
“…Well I want to barbecue fifty shcousand hogs on a giant shpit over an open flame in the woodsh!”
“Murderface…that’s…. that’s not what I meant.”
“You shaid I do what I want! I want that! And I want to make my own bacon! With my facesh on it!”
“Yeah me too, this is me Nathan saying this to you, I want that too!” Nathan spun around so Charles would know it was him speaking. “Do you see my lips moving? I said I want that too.”
“Yes, ah, Nathan, I hear you. You’re standing on my foot.”
“Oh. Sorry. But uh…yeah I want bacon too and I fucking want it with my face on it too.”
“Dood…smoked maple bourbon bacon. We gotta do dat.”
It was times like these that Toki needed Skwisgaar most. Everyone was shouting over each other and no one made a lick of sense. Sometimes Toki forgot how to comprehend English when it was this jumbled together and loud. Skwisgaar always brought some type of clarity to the chaos.
“I just wants Skwisgaar backs, I don’t wants none of this bullshits!”
Toki covered his ears and ran from the room while everyone else continued to argue over bacon and whether or not starting a forest fire would be criminally irresponsible.
. . .
Later that night Toki couldn’t even think straight. The guys were all sitting around the hot tub drinking, arguing, not working on the album, and it was way too much for him to handle. Toki was wrapped in a towel, sitting on the floor as far away from the hot tub as possible without being completely out of ear shot, in case he needed to yell his opinion on some meaningless nonsense the guys bickered over.
His heart was shattered and lying all over the insides of his chest. No wonder it hurt to speak or even breathe. He tried to think or something Skwisgaar would say to cheer him up but that only made him feel worse. He pulled his damp towel over his head and cried again, quietly enough that the sounds were drowned out by Murderface’s drunken Civil War rant.
Who would Toki go to now? Night was fast approaching, and the darkening sky was just another painful hurdle to overcome now that Skwisgaar was gone.
Tonight, he would pray to God for Skwisgaar to come home and for everything to be okay again.