Work Text:
Once they finally get him home, when he’s all checked over and given the all clear, Toki gets a mound of blankets from his room and wraps them round himself like he’s a corpse, curling up on the floor in front of the TV.
They keep him company, talk about nothing like everything’s normal, while they watch him out of the corner of their eyes. Skwisgaar holds his breath when Pickles brings them drinks, thinking Toki may hit the sauce as hard as he had when his Dad died, but he doesn’t touch a drop.
After a while, his eyes begin to droop, but he refuses to go to bed.
“Come on Toki, you can barely keep your eyes open.” Nathan gives him a little nudge.
“I’m fine,” he mumbles.
“We’re all whacked out, dude,” Pickles persists, turning off the TV. “We can watch this tomorrow.”
Like any of them had actually been paying attention to whatever it was.
Toki mumbles something inaudible, ducking his head.
“What’s that?”
He repeats himself, barely any louder, but they all hear him.
“Am’s scared’s to be by myself’s.”
They shift awkwardly.
“We-ell…” Murderface starts.
“I guess we can just…” Nathan looks at Pickles for help.
“Uh…have, a little sleepover. Yeah, that’s what we’ll do.”
So they bring their blankets, pillows, throws, and a few personal items – Skwisgaar’s guitar, Murderface’s knife – to make it the most brutal and metal sleepover as humanly possible.
Abigail is bemused when she comes to check on them.
“We’s is having’s a sleepover,” Skwisgaar says with dignity, while they all frown at her, impatient at her slowness. Except for Nathan, who looks sheepish.
“Sorry.” He shrugs.
-
Skwisgaar is the last to fall asleep. It’s not Murderface’s snoring (though it doesn’t help), he can’t stop going through it all in his head. Even having Toki back, having him safe right next to him, he can’t keep from imagining things, can’t squash the guilt.
He has no idea if Toki is awake or not.
“Toki?” he whispers into the dark.
Silence.
Skwisgaar doesn’t pursue it. He sighs and wriggles free of his white blanket. He gets his guitar and steps over them carefully.
Locking himself in the studio, he plays blind, plays nothing, not even bothering to turn on the lights.
It helps. After an hour or so, he feels he’s let enough out of himself to sleep.
Their positions have changed when he gets back. Except for Nathan, who is still on his back snoring.
Toki has rolled closer to an oblivious Pickles, and has his head on his shoulder. Murderface has also rolled into Skwisgaar’s vacant space and wrapped an arm around Toki.
Skwisgaar huffs in annoyance. Murderface would bitch and complain if he woke him up, so Skwisgaar settles for just rolling him over out of the way, more gently than he deserves. Toki frowns in his sleep and pushes his forehead into Pickles’ throat.
Skwisgaar resumes his place beside Toki. He doesn’t put his arm round him, but he comes close enough.
-
If Toki had his way, they’d have these ‘sleepovers’ for the rest of his life. Having the others curled around him was the only time he felt even close to calm.
But, he goes back to his room. He’s fine. He has his Deady bear. The others are right there down the hall. Not that anything can happen to him here – this is probably the safest place in the world. Still, he calculates that Skwisgaar’s room is nearest, followed closely by Pickles’. Just in case.
The first few nights back in his room, he can’t sleep. When exhaustion kicks in and he does finally manage it, he wakes to someone shaking him and tries to hit them, until he realises it’s Skwisgaar saying, “It’s me, it’s me,” over and over again.
Toki blinks at him. His hands loosen on Skwisgaar’s shoulders.
“I was dreaming I was dead’s.”
Skwisgaar’s normally ice eyes soften.
“You’s not dead’s, Toki.”
Toki shifts slightly, and Skwisgaar takes the hint and moves back, giving him his space, so Toki can lie down.
“I’ve been – having nightmares about my’s audition,” he mumbles, turning away from Skwisgaar as he speaks.
“Your audition’s?” Skwisgaar repeats. “But you’s audition’s was good’s! It’s got you’s in the band!”
Toki doesn’t answer him. He lies there in silence for a while. Just as he thinks Skwisgaar’s about to walk away, the bed dips with his weight, a safe yet close distance away. Toki doesn’t dream when he falls back to sleep.
-
He’s not so lucky the next night, or the next, or the next, when he’s alone and he can’t stop thinking about his audition, how he messed up, things Magnus said, how much better Magnus was than him.
It goes on until one day he thinks, he’ll try it, he’ll try and play his entire audition piece without messing up. It shouldn’t be too difficult. He remembers it like it were yesterday, after all, and he’s had so much practice since then, so much experience. Maybe that would be enough, that would show Magnus. Magnus, of course, is dead, but the Magnus in his head is very much alive, and with him every minute of his life.
So, Toki picks up his guitar for the first time since his return and tries. At first, it’s almost too easy; it comes back to him as if it really were yesterday. As he plays, he almost starts to enjoy himself, reliving the feeling of matching Skwisgaar chord by chord, stride by stride. It takes him out of himself, and he remembers how powerful music can be, how much more it is than anything. Nothing else in the world could give so much.
But then, he gets to the end and he tries, he focusses so hard, Skwisgaar’s accompaniment clear in his mind, when his fingers miss, and stutter, and just like that he’s botched it.
He closes his eyes. It doesn’t matter, it’s a totally pointless exercise. He’s in the band. End of story.
In the other room, Skwisgaar is playing to himself casually, as he does. Toki listens mindlessly for a moment, until he realises what it is Skwisgaar’s playing; the improvised audition piece that Toki very loudly failed, yet again, moments ago. Skwisgaar continues through where Toki messed up, as smooth and effortless as breathing. It suddenly makes him furious.
“Shut the fuck up, Skwisgaar!” he screams. He pulls the guitar from his neck and hurls it as hard as he can.
It smashes against the wall, denting it, breaking into several pieces on the floor. Toki stares at it, breathing hard, while seemingly the whole house falls silent.
Then he storms out, leaving the debris, goes to his room for another guitar. He calls Abigail.
“I need’s a room’s where I can play,” he orders. “No, it’s not for anything’s Dethklok. I just need somewhere’s quiet. And private.”
-
She gets him a little studio on a hill not far out of town. It’s cold, and the heating doesn’t work, but he’s Norwegian; he doesn’t care.
Abigail studies him with her arms wrapped round herself for warmth, clearly wanting to leave but unsure if she should.
“Do you want me to call Knubbler?” she offers. “He can talk you through how to self-record.”
“That’s OK’s. I don’t’s want’s to record.”
She takes the hint and leaves him. For a moment, he has to close his eyes; he’s still furious and he’s not sure why.
He shakes his head to clear it, and forces himself back through the chords, slowly this time, painfully, baby slow, and he does it over and over again. It’s boring and it’s repetitive and he hates it, but he keeps going until he feels he can build up speed.
He gets there, and he gets it right. He gets it all. He swallows. Then he does it all again. And again. And again. By the time he’s finished, his arms are aching, his fingers blistering and he has a dehydration headache, but he’s grinning all over his face. He did it.
It only wears off once Mordhaus comes back into sight.
What did it prove? Skwisgaar was still better than him.
It proves everything, he argues with himself, as he steps back into the house.
He goes looking for the remains of his guitar, finds one of the Klokateers has cleaned up the mess. The dent in the wall stares at him accusingly. He wonders if any of the debris was salvageable.
He can hear Skwisgaar playing again, something mindless and subdued, and he follows the sound until he’s in front of them all. Skwisgaar stops playing as if he’d been struck.
Toki breathes in.
“Skwisgaar, am’s sorry’s I was dildo earlier. I’s was in a bad’s mood.”
Skwisgaar smiles, and just like that the tension is gone.
“You’s is always dildo anyways,” he says, grinning. He pushes a free chair towards Toki with his foot. Nathan offers him a potato chip.
He doesn’t dream at all that night.
-
Although his recurring audition dream evaporated, Toki still occasionally had other nightmares, still had bad nights and bad days with seemingly no pattern, no rhyme or reason to it. He can tell Abigail is the same, but they don’t talk about it, just acknowledge it in each other’s eyes wearily. There is nothing to say.
He still hates being alone in the evening. Skwisgaar would be with girls, Nathan with Abigail, but Murderface was usually free for a movie marathon, sometimes Pickles. If Toki got lucky, they’d fall asleep before they could tell him to go, although admittedly this was only a problem with Murderface; Pickles seemed to understand without him saying anything, as he never once suggested Toki go back to his own room.
“I was having’s nightmares about Magnus being better’s than me in my audition’s,” Toki blurts during a bad night, one of the worst in a while.
Murderface snorts. Buried in his favourite movie at 3 in the morning, he is even more calcitrant than usual.
“What are you worried about that for? Magnus didn’t even audition properly, he just kept telling us what to do all the time!”
“Really’s?”
Toki considers this new information with interest. It eases the squeeze in his chest a little.
Still, this is Murderface; he exaggerates, he gets carried away, he gets things wrong. So first thing in the morning, Toki goes to find Pickles.
The drummer is at the kitchen table in his robe, feet up on the opposite chair, reading a magazine.
“Hey buddy.” He shifts his feet so Toki can sit down. Toki barely notices. He leans forward in his eagerness.
“Pickle, do you remember’s what Magnus’ audition’s was like?”
Pickles makes a sound of digust that’s a good imitation of Murderface.
“Audition? That douchebag didn’t audition, he thought he was God’s gift to mankind! He just sort of took over.”
Toki slumps with relief. Two down, two to go.
He goes to Nathan once the frontman’s seen Abigail out.
“I don’t remember Magnus ever auditioning,” he says. “I don’t think he was put against Skwisgaar like that. If he had have been, it would have saved us a lot of trouble.”
That’s enough for Toki. That just left Skwisgaar, as lead guitarist, arguably the most important and valid opinion of all.
“Magnus was very’s good’s,” Skwisgaar says, crushing his hopes. “He didn’t’s needs to audition’s, you could’s just tell’s he was good’s. But he couldn’t play’s well’s in a band. He couldn’t’s listen’s, he couldn’t’s improvise. He just played’s what he was given’s.”
Skwisgaar had been strumming mindlessly as he spoke, but he looks up when Toki doesn’t say anything. The other man looks radiant, almost deranged, with happiness.
“What?” he frowns, as Toki hugs him hard.
Toki has a feeling he’ll sleep well tonight.
-
Doctor Rockso comes to visit on one of his bad nights. None of them particularly liked the clown, but they were still feeling generous towards Toki, still feeling guilty. The clown never fails to make him happy.
He’s watching TV on the floor now in his blankets, facing the TV, lifeless and unseeing. He hasn’t moved for about an hour. Skwisgaar doesn’t see how a screeching, infuriating clown could cheer anyone up, but he’s in no position to question Toki’s wishes.
The clown slides into Toki’s line of vision with his usual exuberance, but his grin falters when he sees the other man’s face.
“Oh baby, what he do to you?” he croons.
He sits next to Toki and produces a huge bag of candy, seemingly from nowhere, which earns him a weak smile.
“Toki’s am’s diacbectic,” Skwisgaar says from over their heads.
“It’s candy for diabetics,” Doctor Rockso purrs. He and Skwisgaar exchange acidic glares.
“Let’s watch Zazz videos,” Toki says, oblivious. He tears open the bag of candy and digs in.
Doctor Rockso raises his eyebrows at the others when they just stand there.
“Well? This a supervised visit or what?”
They mutter over it, but eventually back off.
The videos are clearly just background noise; Skwisgaar glares at them as they talk.
“I hate’s that clown. What’s do you think’s they are talking’s about? This is the most Toki speak’s since he get’s back! Do you think’s he’s telling the clown that’s we left’s him?”
-
“They got a fuckin’ nerve,” Doctor Rockso comments, sliding onto his stomach and plopping his head on one arm. “I’m not the one who- “
He stops himself just in time, thinking better of it, and quickly changes course.
“So baby, how’re you doin’? You want a balloon?”
Toki is frowning. He doesn’t seem to hear him.
“You were right,” he says. “About Magnus.”
“Oh baby, that doesn’t matter, you OK now. But you c – c – c – listen to Doctor Rockso in future when he tells you someone’s an asshole, OK?”
He reaches out and ruffles Toki’s hair.
Then he bursts out laughing.
“What?” Toki says, bewildered.
“Nothin’, baby, nothin’.”
It happens again.
Doctor Rockso ends up coming over quite a lot. Toki doesn’t yet feel up to one of their benders, so Doctor Rockso just brings candy and balloons, and they watch old zazz videos.
“You lookin’ a little better, baby,” Doctor Rockso tells him next time.
“I feel’s it, Doctor Rockso, I really do! I…”
He breaks off then when he sees Doctor Rockso duck his head. His shoulders are shaking with laughter.
“Doctor Rockso…?” he whispers, the hurt as sudden and unexpected as a kick in the gut. Doctor Rockso is laughing at him all the time these days.
“Oh baby, I’m not laughing at you,” the clown says, seeing his face. “I’m laughing at that hard assed guitarist of yours who got the hots for you, and keeps giving Doctor Rockso the old death glare. I can’t help myself, it just too funny.”
“What?”
Toki doesn’t always understand Doctor Rockso. He waits for the clown to explain himself, but he just keeps giggling.
Toki looks at his bandmates uncertainly. Sure enough, Skwisgaar is glaring at them, looking like he could snap his guitar strings between his fingers. Toki turns away again.
“Skwisgaar don’t’s like’s you, Doctor Rockso,” Toki says primly.
“He likes you, though,” the clown says, spluttering with laughter all over again.
“I don’t’s know what you mean’s.”
A few hours into their videos, and Toki’s forgotten all about Skwigar. He feels a candy nap coming on from all the sugar, and lets his eyelids droop.
Doctor Rockso has also been quiet beside him. After a while, he puts his arm around Toki’s waist, slowly, like he’s doing it in his sleep. Toki doesn’t mind. It’s a bit like when he cuddled up with Pickles that first night.
He’s just settling down again when someone marches over, and the warmth of Doctor Rockso’s arm is ripped away from him.
“OK’s, I think’s that’s enough visit’s time’s now, clown. You don’t’s come’s here just to nap’s. Toki need his space.”
Toki stares at Skwisgaar in the dark. Although the other man’s voice is controlled, Toki can see the strain in his forehead and his arms. He’s never seen him so mad.
The clown is laughing too hard to say anything. Toki meets his eyes just before the Klokateers take him away. He winks.
Skwisgaar is still frowning after they’ve gone. The rest of the band have already left, and the only light comes from the TV. Skwisgaar comes to lounge beside Toki on the blankets, like nothing’s happened. Toki’s just about to confront him when Skwisgaar’s arm rests around him, in place of Doctor Rockso’s. Toki’s eyes widen in the dark as Doctor Rockso’s words sink in. He suddenly feels very, very slow.
He doesn’t move. He’s not uncomfortable, but he’s not relaxed either, having Skwisgaar close to him, Skwisgaar touching him, Skwisgaar – attracted to him? Toki bites his lip, furiously willing his thoughts down.
Skwisgaar gives his hair a little nuzzle, casually enough to be by accident, but it brings them a lot closer, and Toki closes his eyes and prays.
“Toki,” Skwisgaar breathes, and the hand on his waist slides under his shirt. Skwisgaar’s mouth finds his own, and his hand goes down, down between Toki’s legs.
Toki’s ringtone screeches over them, making them both jolt.
“Leave’s it,” Skwisgaar whispers.
He lets it go to voicemail, and a familiar voice rings out, “You guys c – c- c- do it yet? Doctor Rockso wants aaaaaallllll the details!”