Skwisgaar had hoped they would find Toki before this day, he had really hoped for that. He'd counted the days down all year long just waiting for the day his friend's birthday would come around. The morning of the date he for some reason thought just maybe his band mates would mention it, would show some sign they knew what day it was, and that Toki had been missing for a year now. It took him the longest time to pull himself out of bed that morning or maybe it was afternoon; his head surged with pain from a combination of hang over along with a night of crying himself to sleep. He liked to think the others did this too from time to time. That the possible death of their friend caused them to spend some nights crying, if they did cry at night then he couldn't tell. When Skwisgaar did manage to force himself out of bed, into slightly clean clothes and out into the kitchen where the rest of his band mates were he found them hung over with blood shot eyes, but working their way into drunken oblivion. Normally he'd join them, normally he would have lit up the crack pipe in his room and been off into numb sensations before even coming into the kitchen, but not today. He couldn't manage to do it, he couldn't pretend he was okay and he couldn't drink or smoke until he was.
He sat quietly, not wanting to talk; he didn't even have his guitar with him. The thought of touching the instrument ever since Toki was kidnapped made him physically ill. It used to be his compulsive habit brought on by bouts of anxiety, but now when he touched the instrument or even looked at it all he could think was seeing his closest friend being stabbed in the back while he just stood by and watched. Do something, could he have done something then?
Skwisgaar replayed the scene one too many times in his head, he'd think over every little detail just to see if he could have done something to prevent it from happening. He even wondered a time or two if there had been any way he could have been stabbed instead, he would have gladly given his life to save the life of his younger friend. He used to think having Toki in the band was an inconvenience, he rarely practiced and only worked hard during recordings when he was in the mood to do so. Skwisgaar had times where he couldn't stand him and could return the hate often thrown out by his friend, but in the end he didn't feel it or mean it. He didn't mean it when he told him he sucked or that he had no real place in the band or he could never be as good. It hurt worse knowing Toki didn't know he didn't mean any of those things. If he was dead then he went out thinking Skwisgaar didn't care about him. That hurt, everything fucking hurt.
He looked around at his friends; Nathan spent a majority of his time smoking weed and when Pickles wasn't paying attention he would look at a photo of Abigail he'd saved onto his phone. If he wasn't so stoned Skwisgaar had the feeling he'd start crying every time he saw the picture. She didn't exist anymore though, she existed as much as Toki did; they were just nameless people that they used to know. They were gone, most probably dead just like every other person they came into contact with. Why let another death or two bother them?
He cringed thinking that, the mantra didn't work the way that it used to. Not anymore. Instinctively he wanted to play guitar or turn to a certain rhythm guitarist and talk to him about his anxieties or ask if he wanted to go back to his room and do something more entertaining than this. There was no guitar to strum and no friend to spend time with. There were just his remaining friends. He cared about them, he really did and if he had to lose one more person he would break down completely.
There was a lump in his throat warning him that anything could make him start crying. He knew he should grab the bottle of whiskey sitting on the table amongst the drugs, booze, and food, but he couldn't. His stomach was killing him and he didn't think he could handle alcohol right now.
Pickles glanced at him from time to time, but didn't say anything. Skwisgaar wasn't sure if he wanted the drummer to ask him why he was still sober and why he looked like he'd been crying. His current state of sobriety made him hate them and himself in equal amounts. He wanted to scream and ask what the fuck was wrong with them, why were they just sitting around like this?
They knew it was Toki's birthday, they knew he was still missing, and some feeling deep in their guts told them he wasn't dead. Somehow that knowledge made it all a million times worse than the thought he could be dead, because it meant he was somewhere suffering. Skwisgaar knew they'd tell him to chill out, tell him that Ofdensen was out looking and it was fine. Ofdensen would take care of things, they didn't do this sort of thing anyway. They were better at partying and just being generally wasted. Skwisgaar wasn't a brave man, he never claimed to be, but this was driving him insane.
After an hour of sitting there silently with building frustration and anxiety he left, he was grateful the others were too wasted to even notice him leaving.
When he was sober he couldn't stop his mind from wandering and rushing through memories and thoughts and deep seeded fears. He kept on thinking over and over the last moment that he had shared with Toki, just normal moments. He thought at the time that the band was ending, but he knew that he wouldn't lose contact with the rhythm guitarist. He'd promised him they'd find a place to live together, Hell even Murderface was welcome to live with them. He wasn't about to let the younger man go back to the streets or back to Norway, a place filled with nightmare memories.
Some part of him felt like losing the band might be a relief and also an end to the only part of himself that he really knew. Skwisgaar wasn't good at anything outside of guitar and sex, he wasn't smart or talented at more than one thing. He hated that about himself, he hated being alone and he knew Toki was the same. If the band had just ended like he thought that it would then they'd live together and he could treat him better, start over new with him and treat Toki the way that he deserved to be treated. Skwisgaar promised himself he wouldn't treat him like a chore, something life forced onto him but he didn't want at all. It wasn't true, he loved his friend, and he wished he had told him that. If they never found him alive he wouldn't get to tell him that, ever.
He was regretting being sober.
He regretted twenty times as much when he arrived at Toki's room. The first week of the rhythm guitarist being gone Skwisgaar had stayed in said room. At first nobody had said anything, nobody paid attention to him laying in his friend's bed and crying and screaming. Everybody was messed up, in shock from what had taken place at the funeral. Nobody could piece it together; there was too much information and still too many questions. There were things outside of themselves and their little created world that they should worry about and think about, but Skwisgaar didn't care about that shit. Nothing could make him care about that shit.
Skwisgaar checked to make sure nobody was coming down the hallway, once he was sure nobody was looking he slipped into the bedroom closing the door behind him.
Everything was the same, Klokateers came in and cleaned the room but never moved anything. Skwisgaar used to like to pretend that Toki would just come back, get out of the shower or come back from the gym and ask him why he was crying. Just another fucking day. Just another boring fucking day. He wanted that, he wanted normal; for once Skwisgaar wanted something normal. He didn't like being stoned and drunk and touching women that made him physically ill, he wanted to mourn and ask questions. He wanted to trade his life for the life of his friend who he ignored one too many times.
They could have prevented this from happening.
His stomach hurt almost as much as his head.
Skwisgaar picked a dirty shirt up from the floor and lay down on the bed, he pull his legs up against himself and clutched the shirt to his chest. He could still smell feminine and fruity body wash, they used to mock Toki from time to time for liking such generally woman related scents. Skwisgaar had secretly liked it though, he liked the feminine side to his friend; he could be so fucking beautiful and so very weird in a really great way. Skwisgaar wished he'd told him that more instead of making fun of him for it.
It really hadn't taken long after Toki disappeared for Nathan to say they needed to move on. Not get a new guitarist, because he knew how wrong that was and how Skwisgaar would never agree to it. He had told them to hide or just burn anything that reminded them of the youngest member of their group. His room and its contents were the only things allowed to stay completely in tact. The worst had been with Nathan told Skwisgaar he couldn't go into Toki's room anymore; he'd spent every single night there, even entire days from time to time. They would pass by and see him just lying there quietly crying, nobody was sure if they preferred the quiet crying to the loud heart broken sobs or not. Skwisgaar had fought and bitched when he'd been told the room was off limits, but when he found comfort in meth and slutty girls he forgot all about it.
He couldn't forget today though, couldn't get himself to touch a single drink or pipe. He just wanted to lie here and think no matter how badly it hurt. He wanted to think about how his friend would be twenty-four today if he wasn't...He could still be alive, the supposedly hopeful thought didn't make Skwisgaar feel any better.
He tried to imagine where Toki was being kept and knew his imagination couldn't come up with anything close to as horrible as the reality probably was.
"Dude Nathan is gonna kill ya if he catches you in here."
Skwisgaar lifted his head to look towards the doorway. Pickles quietly closed the door behind him, he looked around the room and the blond haired man could see him wince and the regret build in blood shot green eyes before he pushed it to the side Pickles sat down on the edge of the bed.
"I don't fucking care, I should be allowed in here." he replied his voice angry, defensive.
Pickles raised a hand up as if to tell him he wasn't judging, he didn't care.
"It's fine, just don't let Nathan catch ya. You kind of seem really fucked up today."
"Maybe I'm just sick of pretending Toki exist."
The drummer had a hard time meeting his friend's eyes, it wasn't until Skwisgaar said their missing friend's name that he realized they hadn't said it for a year now.
"You know the rule on names."
Skwisgaar went to complain, but he was too sick and too sad to argue or throw a fit. He'd been pissed off when Nathan said they should refrain from speaking Toki and Abigail's names from now on. If the didn't say their names and they got rid of any evidence they ever existed then it'd be easier to move on. It wasn't, it made it worse. It just meant Skwisgaar could only say his friend's name in the judgmental darkness of his room between broken sobs.
"I'm sick of the fucking rules Pickle, he fucking existed. We've known him since he was sixteen, he would have been twenty-four today if we didn't let him..."
He felt on the verge of crying again. His throat was raw, eyes itchy and his head still throbbed in a way that made him feel like he couldn't live with this. Any of this.
"I know dude, I know...We can't do anything about it though."
"I fucking miss him"
"I know" The red haired man offered lamely
He was too stoned right now to focus, to give the concern that Skwisgaar wanted to hear. He knew he wasn't being much help to the situation.
"I'm gonna go back with the others...You can stay here, just leave if Nathan comes around. He'll flip his shit and board the door up if he sees ya."
"Yeah...Thanks"
Pickles got up and went to the door, he wanted to offer some comfort. He wanted to lamely say that it was going to be okay, but that was a cruel joke. Instead he left remembering he still had angel dust in his room that would wipe the regret from his mind for now.
Skwisgaar felt better being alone again; he could wallow in regret and self loathing. He could close his eyes and inhale the scene of too sweet shampoo and remember when things weren't inebriated hell. He could remember wide light blue eyes looking at him like he was some sort of God, a feminine and cracking voice with a heavy accent asking him questions. He could remember falling asleep holding his friend in his arms after his father had died, after bad memories started to surface too often to allow him to function.
Now he was here alone.
"Happy birthday Tokis, I'm sorry" He whispered.