This is my apology for not updating and it's the only thing I've had lying around that's complete enough to post. I am working on fanfiction still, and have several things in progress, but real life is stressful and sometimes (oftentimes) I forget to write. I hate uploading something so short but oh well.
The earth is crumbling. It's a cliché, but it's true: chunks of the ground are breaking off and falling into space, chipping away, and the gravitational pull becomes weaker as Earth shrinks and they get closer to the core. Toki is sweating beneath his t-shirt and he wants to tug at the collar but he can't, as his hands are occupied with Deddy and his guitar. His fingers are damp and slipping on their necks.
He's following Skwisgaar through a labyrinth that once was a bustling Swedish city. Snow is not falling but melting on the ground, buildings are lying face down in the streets, people are dead and people are dying. There is blood everywhere and blood is mixing on the ground with the melting snow and the city is crying, liquid evaporating and falling and everything is a mess, everything is a mess. Toki loses sight of Skwisgaar for a second and his hearts beats so, so hard and almost slams to a stop, but everything is okay (everything is not okay) when he catches a glimpse of Skwisgaar in front of glass from a broken window. Toki leaps and they are side-by-side now, panting.
Skwisgaar has his hair tied back and it's knotted and mangled, half of it ripped off from a succubus's nails. The succubus had been one of the first demons to break to the surface. She had been pitch-black, stitched from shadow itself, strangely sexual. She had been the one that wanted Skwisgaar but they'd beat her, Skwisgaar and Toki together, and she had vanished. The others weren't as lucky; their demons came for them and their demons got them. Toki's hasn't appeared yet. They're trying to ignore that.
"Det är helvetet på jorden," Skwisgaar says through spurts of breath.
"Jeg vet," Toki responds. He's not as out of breath as Skwisgaar, not out of breath at all. He is built for endurance, his stocky frame taking this all in stride, and his lungs aren't as damaged from years upon years of smoke and drugs, not like Skwisgaar's. Skwisgaar shows his age well now, emaciated from lack of food and away from the youthful fruits of fame. He is spectral, translucent, and white enough that Toki can see the blue of his engorged veins. Toki has somehow retained tan skin and muscle, and he doesn't' want to think about how, or why. Toki is standing upright with his bear and his guitar in his arms and there's a little pain in his calves but otherwise he feels fine; Skwisgaar is stooped and still can't catch his breath.
"Jeg kan bære deg," Toki offers. He sets his bear and his guitar on the ground and reaches his arms out to make his point. Skwisgaar glares at Toki and snaps back upwards, running on pride alone, puffing his chest out to make his point. Toki gets the message and picks the bear and the guitar back up.
They start to run through the twisted fallen city once more and at some point Toki loses his guitar and he can't say why; one minute it's there and one minute it's not. Toki's fingers dig into Deddy's stomach and then, without warning, the bear explodes and stuffing goes everywhere and Toki almost starts crying. Skwisgaar looks back and opens his mouth to shout something but Toki can't hear him, there's a deafening rumble behind him. He looks back; the earth is giving in, crumbling just tens of feet behind him, and rising is something scary and inhuman—a demon. Toki's demon. He feels ten again, skinny-kneed and trembling in the face of his father, and the face of his father is what he sees in his demon, though his demon isn't human at all. It's ethereal and black and looks almost like Skwisgaar's but more masculine and so much more frightening and Toki can almost feel his hair retreating into his skull and his blood flowing backwards as time inverts. Then—then he can hear Skwisgaar's voice, crashing into him, and:
"Kom igen! För kärleken till gudarna, bara kom igen!" Skwisgaar is shouting louder than he ever has, louder than Toki has ever heard him. His voice turns hysterical as Toki continues to stare into the face of his demon—"Vänligen lämna mig inte." It's a whimper, or as close to a whimper as one can get during the circumstances, barely audible.
They can't beat this demon. They don't have their guitars, they don't have their music, they don't have the drive. Toki turns from his demon and it hurts, hurts worse than it does to look at him, and he can feel the whips against his back and the weight on his shoulders, but he stumbles forward. He craves Deddy, craves his guitar, craves a hand to hold—and he trudges forward, feels like he's walking through snow as tall as him. Skwisgaar reaches out his arm and Toki grabs it and Skwisgaar yanks him forward and they're running now, the snow has cleared, the whips and the weight is gone, and they take off. It feels like they're flying they're going so fast, this isn't natural, but it's what happening, and he can only just feel the ground shake as his demon runs after them.
But—everything comes to an end and when they reach the most north point of Sweden, now considerably more south due to the lessening of Earth and all, they have nowhere to go. They're still holding on to each other, not holding hands necessarily, more grabbing the other's wrists—they had never let go from the initial touching point. Their hands move so that their fingers interlock properly and they turn from facing the sea to facing the land before them. Toki's demon is out of sight but he'll be here soon, to take Toki, and Toki doesn't want to think about what will happen to Skwisgaar.
They look at each other and, for some reason, they smile. Skwisgaar traces Toki's face and when his hand is returned to his side, Toki returns the favor, wiping away a solitary tear on Skwisgaar's cheek. Their grip on the other's hands is as tight as possible, so tight it should hurt but it doesn't hurt.
Toki feels the pain of lashings on his back and the weight of crates of fish on his shoulders. The pain starts out nonexistent but steadily and slowly grows worse and he winces constantly. Each time his body spasms Skwisgaar twitches, looks at Toki with concern. The pain and the weight continue until Toki collapses and falls to his knees, but he doesn't let go of Skwisgaar's hand. Skwisgaar kneels on the ground beside him—the snow is gone, they're on asphalt, on a pier—and looks at him. Toki knows he's too far gone, knows that nothing Skwisgaar does can help him, and he knows Skwisgaar knows this as well. It's futile to try; all they can do is wait.
Eventually the pain is too much and his demon is coming and Earth is shaking and Toki's relatively sure that the span as far as he can see is the only land that's left and the temperature has soared and he's sweating and he's slipping in and out of consciousness and Skwisgaar is sitting right by him, holding his hand in both of his own, still and silent as a stone statue.
"I'll see you in Valhalla," Skwisgaar whispers, his voice right next to Toki's ear. He must've leant down, is Toki's last thought. His demon comes for him and his demon gets him, the pain of the lashings and the weight of the crates of fish turning white-hot and enveloping him.
There is quiet. Toki cannot identify for how long. Toki cannot identify what he is in this state. Toki cannot identify what is going on. But there is quiet and there is time.
He opens his eyes and finds himself on the same spot on the pier in Sweden, the sound of a person breathing by his side. Everything is restored, the way it should be, white snow and trees and the ocean and the pier and there is land and sea as far as he can see. The breathing beside him is calm. There is no pain. He sits up and dares to see who sits beside him, is not surprised to see that it's Skwisgaar.
"Hvor lenge har du vente?" Toki asks.
"Inte länge alls."