It was the end of it. It was all over. No more bad dreams about your little brother. No more fretting every day and drinking it away. No more of the obsessive drugs, girls, and alcohol. You were home, he was home, the others were home and it was all okay again.
But you couldn't go see him.
How absolutely, motherfucking stupid are you?
Your name is Skwisgaar Skwigelf.
You're the fastest guitarist alive.
You're in the biggest band in the world.
You're Swedish, and you're considered a god for your skills with the women.
But you can't walk through those white doors.
You can't just fucking walk up to them, take that deep breath, hold it and go in. Go ask if he's okay. Go cheer him up, assure him how it's all over. He needs you, got damn it!
But no. You spent two months in your room, having your Klokateers bring you your food, playing your guitar obsessively, sending away anyone else who came to the door. The next show wasn't happening until the man you can't even go say hello to was better and healthy and happy.
God only fucking knew when that would be.
You went to see him once. You looked through the window into the room and saw him laying there, sleeping, resting, recovering.
You couldn't wake poor Toki Wartooth up, could you? No. You turned, walked back down that hall briskly.
You went to try and see him again. You heard a thump, and got the attention of some doctors. They ran back into the room and you peered in to see the poor boy had blacked out in the process of walking around the room. You left again.
Third time's the charm. All you needed was to hear that happy voice practically screaming "Abigail!" for you to turn and retreat back to your room.
She knew how to make your baby brother happy and you didn't.
What kind of band mate, friend, brother are you?
You're a coward and you fucking know it.
Why is it, you stand there like a puppet in front of Toki's door? There's no puppeteer, Skwisgaar. Nobody's going to lift your hand, knock and yell his name for you. You have to do it yourself.
You turn and run to home base. This time, you don't go back.
You hide in the corner of your room, bottle of the strongest alcohol they could get you in one hand, a simple cigarette in the other.
You hear him screaming bloody murder in the middle of the night. No need to get up, you can hear Pickles run out of his room toward the sound and minutes later, it ends.
The next day, neither guitarists show up for breakfast, lunch, practice or dinner.
Why does he keep choosing 1 to 2 AM to start screaming like he's being brutally murdered?
No need to bother. Once again you hear footsteps. This time, Murderface. He goes back to his room after at least a half hour, and you hear no more screaming.
The next day, Toki only showed up for breakfast. You wouldn't know. You haven't left your room in almost three months.
Once again, screaming. You're tempted to go yell at him for keeping you up at night, for distracting you, for never leaving your thoughts. Nathan storms past your room. No more noise.
Toki shows up for breakfast and lunch, practices a tiny bit with Pickles and retires for the evening. You sat in your room on your slightly dusty white bed, guitar on your lap, uneaten plate of food by your side.
You get the feeling he's going through this as well.
Too sick to eat, and too sick to keep anything down.
You tell Charles Foster Offdensen.
You only get soft foods and things light on the stomach from then on.
You went to breakfast once. Toki broke down at the sight of you, and how unhealthy and uneasy you looked, and you shifted uncomfortably before rushing and grabbing something from a cupboard to eat and run back to your room, unable to handle being in his presence any longer.
You're sent to the hospital ward the next day. You curse him. It must have been his fault. That's why you sat there, IV's in your arms.
Soon enough, you're allowed to go back to your room.
Soon enough, you can eat again.
Soon enough, you can sleep again.
And soon enough, you hear a voice softly say your name outside your door.
You frowned, stopping your guitar's sounds, listening. It was quiet. You returned to the guitar. The voice again.
You stopped. "Storebror… Don'ts go…" The voice said. Where were you going? Why were you not told about this? You hate surprises.
"Skwis…?" You hated that nickname too. He sounded so… Frail, saying it.
The voice started screaming. Screaming your name, and screaming it loud.
You threw the guitar off your lap and rushed out of your room. There knelt Toki in front of your door, and you scowled. "Whats de fucks are you doings ins front ofs my door, Tokis?" You asked.
He started screaming, You panicked. You lightly shook his shoulder. "Tokis?" You asked, trying to calm him. Why isn't he stopping his screaming? You shook his shoulder again, and this time, he stopped. Actually, no, it just faded off to him sobbing out your name. "Tokis!" You yelled and his head snapped up, a little spark of light back in his ice blue eyes. "… S-Skwis…gaar…?" He whispered, and you let your scowl soften, and your guard down for a moment.
No, this was gay! They were gonna start thinking you cared and start asking questions about you and fucking Toki all the time. So you scowled more, grit your teeth and glared, even though all you wanted to do was just fucking hug him for once. "What de fucks was dat abouts?" You asked, and his eyes widened. It was a long, awkward, silent moment before tears began falling from his eyes again, and you almost panicked again, before he reached up and grabbed your shirt, using you and his feet on the stone ground to push himself up a little, or pull you down. You weren't sure which, but now you knelt on your knees with him practically in your lap.
He immediately wrapped his arms around your waist and stuffed his face in your chest seconds later, sobbing out your name again, and you tensed up, unsure just what you should do. You blinked, your own expression fading to one of pure confusion as he moved his head back, looking right up at you, choking on his words as his native tongue took over.
"Jeg beklager, jeg beklager Skwis, jeg prøvde, må du ikke presse meg bort, jeg ikke ønsker å være alene!" He yelled, and you sighed. It took you another few minutes, debating just what to do before you slowly wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and felt him relax into the hug, hiccupping and sniffling as the tears slowly stopped.
When they stopped and the boy quieted down, you gently nudged him back. Everything between you and your little brother was too fragile to do anything mean. No need to hurt him or shove him. Considering you knew exactly what he yelled at you. The languages weren't the same, but they were alike enough for you to get the gist of it.
"Comes on, little Tokis. Gets up." You said, and he slowly let go of you to stand on his own feet. "Okays…" He said softly, and you almost missed it. You got up to your feet, but he kept his head down. You gently nudged him with your foot and he looked up at you finally, his eyes widening as you held your hand out. Toki looked so, so happy at this, and you were resisting a small smile of your own, pulling him up. When he got his footing and you were sure the kid wouldn't fall, you tugged his arm gently, pulling him over to your door.
You walked into your room, turning to close the door when you both were in, then you pointed to the bed. "Go lays down." You ordered, and Toki stared at you for a long moment before nodding once.
He walked over to the bed and sat himself down, continuing to watch you as you walked around and laid down on your own side. "Wells?" You asked, and it was another awkward moment of staring between you two before you rolled your eyes and patted the spot next to you. "Comes on, Tokis. Lay downs."
Toki gave you another nod, being obedient and laid down beside you. He kept staring at you with a confused look though, mouth pressed in a thin line and eyes narrowed just slightly.
You just shrugged and sat up, grabbing the edge of your white fur blanket and tugging it over Toki, tucking him in as if he were a child. "Goes to sleeps now." You said, and he turned his head away. ".. Okays…" He said softly. You looked at him then once you were laid back down, and your thoughts drifted back to his screaming.
You frowned and gently patted his arm, getting him to turn his head back to you.
"Why was you screamings?" You finally asked, and you swear, you saw the color fade from his face as his eyes widened. He stared at you for a surprising amount of time, before he spoke softly. "I's… Hads a real bads dream…" And he turned his head away again. More silence. You knew he was lying but you didn't point it out.
Then you moved your hand over to Toki's and took it, feeling him jump, before he relaxed and you gently squeezed his hand. "Why ams you being so nice?" He asked, and you just couldn't help but chuckle. He was so cute sometimes, wasn't he? "You's min bror." You said simply, and saw him grinning out of the corner of your eye. "Okays… Takk, bror." He chimed, and you smiled slightly. Thank you, brother.
You turned your head as he tugged his hand back, watching as he shifted closer slowly, hesitantly, before wrapping his arm around your waist and cuddling into your side, stuffing his face in your shoulder. You were still, thinking it over. What if the others came in and saw you two? What would you both do then? This was just so gay.
…
You know what, fuck it. You moved your arm, lightly patted his back then wrapped it around his back, holding him. "Goes to sleeps, liten bror." You said and he relaxed, humming appreciatively as he went to sleep. This could work. Things could be better. It's not like you're gay or they'll call you gay for letting your little brother hug you, or cuddle with you over bad dreams, right?
Everything would be okay, because you had your family, yes, but then you had yourfamily. Your kind older brothers, and your baby brother that all of you treasure dearly, whether or not you'd all admit it.
And it was all you've ever wanted.