Pickles was the only one.

The only one.

He was the only one in all Mordhaus who knew that the fastest guitarist and the second fastest guitarist alive were an item. The two men he fantasized about the most were a pair. Together. Without him.

They had confided in Pickles first, knowing that with Murderface's intense homophobia and Nathan's large, talkative mouth, their relationship could cause serious damage to the band, possibly ruining Dethklok for good. At first he was perfectly fine with it, the two undisputable hottest guys in the band were together, hell, it was like free porn! But as things progressed and Toki and Skwisgaar became more open about their relationship around Pickles, the first pangs of jealousy hit. And they hit hard.

'Oh, it's nothing a night of some serious drinking can't fix.' Was the drummer's original thought, but when he became less sober and found himself more frequently in the presence of the two lovers, he knew the drinking wasn't going to help. Being drunk allowed him more time to think and realize that he was never going to get in on that action; he wouldn't be able to ever hold or kiss Toki, or to be fucked and felt up by the calloused, obviously skilled, hands of Skwisgaar as he had dreamed about so many times before.

The worst thing about it though was not the fact that he wouldn't be able to ever have the guys he wanted, but the fact that there was no one he could open up to about his problem. He wasn't even sure about his own sexuality, and it angered him. He needed someone to confide in, yet there was no one whom he could trust well enough to talk about it. His various insecurities, his pangs and lusts for his two band mates…what was a drummer to do?

-All this confusion is running deep inside my head. How long can I keep this up before I end up dead? I can't believe that it could come to this; it's only feelings, though I can't resist. I'm falling deeper in denial but I still try to believe in something.-

"Hey, Pickle, could's you be passing me de salts?"

"Eh?" Pickles snapped to, looking around briefly before facing Skwisgaar, who looked at him impatiently. "Oh, yeah, sure dood."

He passed it to Skwisgaar, careful not to let their fingers touch on the oddly spiked salt shaker.

"Thanking you's."

"No prob."

Dinner. One of the only times a day besides band meetings or recording sessions that brought the entire band together, each one of them doing their own thing for the other meals. Pickles on more than one occasion had caught himself staring at Toki and Skwisgaar, seated beside each other, chatting casually and sparking a small jealous spark inside the lonely drummer.

He suppressed a sigh before turning back to the food on his plate that Jean-Pier had prepared for them that night. The one thing about dinner that really grated on Pickles' already agitated nerves was that he had to sit next to Murderface. He couldn't stand sitting next to him during meals; he ate like a dammed pig! Food was always slopping all over the place, and his jaw popped every time he chomped down onto something. It really pissed him off; sure, they were the most metal band in the world, thought to be murderous hooligans, but couldn't they act civilized when they were eating at least?!

He shot a look at Murderface, glaring as the mustached bassist's mouth popped and ingested a turkey leg, grease slithering out from between his teeth. No one else in the band ate like that, not even Nathan. The gap-toothed offender caught Pickles' glare and held it, returning it ten-fold, chewing slowly. Finally, after he swallowed, he spoke:

"You gotsh a problem?" he asked in that tone that dared Pickles to say yes.

"Yeah, dood, eat like a normal fucking human being for once." He said, staring at Murderface angrily, clenching his fist on the table.

He really didn't understand why he was so angry about Murderface's eating habits tonight; perhaps it was because he wasn't drunk and could actually focus on something.

"Hey, shitfache, you gotsh a problem, you go shomewhere elshe!" Murderface said crossly, slamming his knife blade down into the table, missing Pickles' hand by no more than an inch.

"Mother of douche bags!" he yelled, pushing back his chair so fast it fell over, glaring at every one of the people sitting at the table before grabbing a bottle of Vodka and stalking out of the dinner room with a furious expression on his face.

-What's happening to me, I'm dying from the inside. Body hurts too much to feel, the pressure adds to pain. Straying out of sanity, why can't you let me be?-

With Deady Bear tightly secure in his arms, Toki Wartooth walked through Mordhaus, looking for Skwisgaar. Dinner had ended a few hours ago and Skwisgaar had promised to play with Toki and his stuffed bear. However, shortly after dinner, the blonde Swede had gone missing, along with Nathan.

He walked past a guard polishing a suit of spiky armor and asked if he had seen any of his friends.

"No, master."

"Oh, well, thanks you's…" and Toki walked on, Deady Bear clutched tighter in his grasp, wanting someone to play with desperately.

.:o.O.o:.

"So…let me get this straight; you're gay?"

Skwisgaar sighed, rolling his eyes.

'Maybe I comes to de wrong guy about dis…'

"Nathan, you's not listening's to me's. I's worried about Pickle."

"Right…right…so is he gay, too?"

Skwisgaar shook his head, frustrated by Nathan's lack of understanding. At Pickles' display at dinner, Skwisgaar knew that something was up with him. The drummer had never bashed on anyone that hard really; at least, not bashed on anyone in the band. Something was up with the drummer, and Skwisgaar felt that it had had something to do with his relationship with Toki.

Pickles was a nice guy, a guy Skwisgaar knew he could trust. But nice guys like Pickles were constantly being used, Skwisgaar knew this from experience: nice guys finished last. Pickles had started to drink a lot heavier than usual, and he was acting weird around him and Toki, even if he was drunk past all humanly limits. It bothered the Swede, more than he liked to admit, and if anyone knew what was wrong with Pickles, it was Nathan.

Sure, Nathan was a bit thickheaded at times (like now), but he wasn't that dumb. One question had led to another, and Skwisgaar's sexuality had slipped out.

"Not that I am knowing, Nathan."

Nathan mumbled something incoherent, returning his attention to the book he was reading.

"Pickle was de first one's I tolds; maybe what's wrong's wiff hem is because of what's I said's to hem. It could be eh…effe…gotten to hem, ja?"

"Why're you so curious? Do you like him or something?" Nathan said abruptly, examining Skwisgaar through his reading glasses.

"No, not like's dat." Skwisgaar said honestly, looking Nathan in the eye to show he wasn't lying.

Nathan nodded absentmindedly, furrowing his brow in thought.

"Why're you telling me this?"

"You's are 'friendly' liking's hem, you could's check on hem and be making sure he's okay's."

Nathan arched an eyebrow, returning his trained cold gaze back upon Skwisgaar.

"Yeah…I guess I could, but, couldn't you do it yourself?"

Skwisgaar rose from his chair to leave, a quite no passing through his lips as he turned and headed for the door.

"Wait, Skwisgaar. Are you…you know… 'seeing' anyone?"

Skwisgaar's hand faltered on the door handle as Nathan's question reached his ears. He didn't want to expose Toki's homosexuality until Toki himself was comfortable with it. Of the two, Toki definitely had had the hardest time coping with it, having been raised in an uptight Christian home. Skwisgaar would protect Toki's sexuality until he was ready to come out himself. So, as he again said no, he turned and left, making his way into the hall to look for his lost lamb Toki.

.:O.o.O:.

First Chapter, End

Life of Author:

Okay, a few words: when Skwisgaar is saying 'eh…effe…' he's trying to pronounce 'affecting', but failing. You can probably tell that I really don't care for Murderface, haha. Oh, yeah, the first set of page breaking lyrics is from Sum 41's song Moron, and the second set is from Bullet for my Valentine's Deliver Us From Evil song. Please don't flame me telling me that I've just murdered the most brutal show ever, doods, trust me, I know. Peace.