"You dumb fuckings dildo, Toki!"
Skwisgaar is screaming backstage, and Toki really can't bring himself to care. He's only known this guy for about a month, and they've only done one tour with him before. Sure, he's a better guitarist - but Toki still doesn't give a shit, he's young and it's not like he won't be able to surpass this guy later on. He stares back at Skwisgaar, defiantly.
"Why don'ts you takes the stick up your pussies out?! I ams play fine!"
Skwisgaar rolls his eyes and Toki thinks he's pathetic - just another Swede with an inflated ego trying to cover up the gayness with something slightly less gay. It's pathetic. What's the difference between Swedes and mosquitos? Mosquitos are only irritating in summer.
"You thinks caring is stick up pussies? I'm justs not being sloppies and lazy, likes you! Do you evens cares about guitar?!"
That one hurts, just a bit. Guitar had saved Toki's life - of course he fucking cares about it. He has to come back with some below-the-belt shot, even though he still knows absolutely fucking nothing about this asshole. Maybe… he had an ex girlfriend (or boyfriend, probably boyfriend) or a dead family member, or something painful.
"Yeah? Well… well… Your guitarings is fucking stiffs!"
Skwisgaar raises an eyebrow. "Fucking… stiffs?"
Toki grins. That seemed to have gotten to this douchebag. Either that or there was some innuendo in there - he never really understood those. "Yeah, fucking stiffs. Like a fucking computers!"
The Swede sneers and drops the guitar - it's working, Toki's pissing him off!
"A fucking computers, boop beep, no emotions, just note after note after note! I'm putting myselfs into this, what are you-"
SMACK!
The back of Skwisgaar's hand connects with Toki's face, leaving an angry red mark and a bleeding scratch from Skwisgaar's spiked ring. That brings Toki down from his minor high from pissing off Skwisgaar. It certainly brings back memories - the only person who'd ever slapped him like that was his mother.
"Look, älskling - I'm the greatests guitarist in the world for a fuckings reason - I knows what I'm doings, and you're justs some dildo! You onlys barely deserves to ams be here, unlikes me! Because I ams actually play guitar!"
Toki rolls his eyes. Who the hell does this guy think he is? Toki never went on an ego trip like this from being good at guitar. "Narkilepsismiser! That's what yous ams, narkilepsismiser!"
"Necrismlicist! And I ams not, you insolents little..."
He throws the guitar aside and grabs Toki by the hair, yanking him forwards. Toki yelps - is Skwisgaar going to hurt him?
"How abouts I fucking beats the shit out of you until you plays well!" Skwisgaar is grinning kind of mentally and it's really scaring Toki now - but Toki doesn't have time to figure out why Skwisgaar is grinning because he's slammed against a wall. The back of his head hits a mirror and it shatters, leaving broken glass in his hair. He's pretty sure the back of his neck is bleeding. It's bad - he's beginning to regret pissing Skwisgaar off like this. He tried to fight back against his parents, and got hurt - why did he think that he could go against somebody else?
No. Bad thoughts. Don't think of your parents, Toki, think of happy things, like candy and cats and jell-o handcuffed to the wall broken arms verdiløs lat barnet cold
Ut av det. He pinches himself and looks into Skwisgaar's eyes. Cold and unfeeling blue, which is painfully familiar. Toki struggles to take slow breaths like his therapist told him, he has to ground himself and get away from the trigger and he'll be ok even though these things are the worst, worse than diabetic comas, worse than broken strings.
"Toki, are you fucking listenings to me?"
"...mor, jeg beklager, behage…"
"I don'ts knows what the fucks you're saying!"
Toki's nose is bleeding now - he doesn't remember getting hit in the nose, just in the face. Skwisgaar hits him in the shoulder and Toki doesn't even try to hit back or defend himself, he just sits there, leaning against the wall and trying to keep himself from slipping back into his childhood. He reminds himself he's not in Norway, he's in Spain, but he keeps going back in his mind anyway.
He feels himself hit the ground and he looks around and he's definitely not in Kansas anymore. He can smell the rats and blood stains and mold of the cellar and squeezes his eyes shut, muttering to himself. It's just a flashback, it's not real, they can't hurt you anymore. He shakes his head, letting his hair cover his eyes. The scars on his back are itching, scars that he'd thought he'd never have to pay attention to again since he joined Dethklok. Apparently they weren't enough to make him forget.
"Toki! Dude, what did Skwisgaar do?"
Toki hears his name and some gibberish that's probably English, but he's not in the right mind to translate it in his head right now. He remembers watching his parents and they have the bullwhip this time, but it's more than a memory - he's inside the memory, nine years old again and malnourished because he's never allowed to eat. He backs against the wall and tries to avoid the lash but it hits him anyway and he cries out and is slapped for it but he can't help it-
"I's just slappings him arounds a bit!"
He wants to cry but he knows he can't, and instead bites his lip, drawing blood. That blood's probably real, and Toki is telling himself that he's in a flashback over and over again and he realizes it, but it's too goddamn real. He's had dreams that seem less real than this. He throws his arm up in an attempt to block the whip and it's wrenched away and Toki hears a snap that's probably a bone.
"What the fuck?!"
He hits the floor from the next blow from a fist and when he wakes up and looks around he's not in the cellar anymore. He's in his bed, in his room in Mordhaus, and there's Charles, sitting at his desk and examining one of the model trains.
Toki takes a deep breath and sinks into the bed. He's not sure how much time he's lost - it has to have been a few hours, minimum. He doesn't want to think about what the maximum is.
"You were, uh, out for quite a while."
Great.
"How longs?"
"6 hours. I was afraid you wouldn't wake up."
"Not horrible."
Toki looks at his arm - it's in a cast. He groaned - whatever had happened must have been pretty bad. He sighs and looks up at Charles, who rolled the desk chair closer to the bed. He hands Toki a ziploc bag of saltwater taffy. Toki nods a thanks and takes the bag - sweets are comforting, sweets can be trusted.
"I, uh, would like to know what happened. With you and Skwisgaar, in case… well, in case it looks like it will happen again. Was it a panic attack?"
"Something likes that."
"...I'm gonna need you to be more specific."
Toki sighs and looks over the blankets. "Mean parents. Had… what yous says, flashback." He sighs and puts a piece of the taffy on his tongue, pushing it against the top of his mouth and scratching the cast.
"I… am sorry. Abuse is difficult to, uh, deal with. If you, uh, need me to do anything, or get you anything-"
"I don'ts."
"Okay. I'll… let you rest. You should get some rest."
Toki doesn't say anything as Charles walks out the door. He'd expected some kind of heartfelt confession and tears and hugging - not the awkward, stifled, business dealing that happened. Maybe that's just how Charles is, Toki thinks. After all, he did bring candy and offer to do something - or maybe that conversation is for later. Toki gulps down half a piece of the taffy.
But he doesn't want to sleep, so he gets in the chair and rolls to the desk. His upper arm looks like it's been broken, somehow - maybe Toki fell on it. No more models until it heals, then - and no more guitar, either, but that's not as devastating. He rests his chin on the desk.
Suddenly, Toki hears something sliding across the floor. He sees a small rectangle and walks over to retrieve it. It's a bar of Hersheys, and there's a note attached to it.
Förlåt mig.