Chapter 3, Part 1
Small Favors
The next morning when Pickles awoke, Toki wasn't at the breakfast table. Instead of showing up on time to eat, he arrived, ravished and looking for food, at 1 o'clock. When he discovered that everyone was sitting in the living room and watching T.V., he went over to Nathan handed him a crumpled note and plopped down on the floor, next to Skwisgaar, who was sitting on the couch above him looking quite bored. As soon as the Swede saw Toki, though, his face lit up and he nudged him with his foot and grinned.
"Tokis? Hey, Tooooookkkki?"
"Ja?" he asked, looking up. Dark circles ringed his eyes and his hair was wild and unbrushed, making it clear he was not only unconcerned with what Skwisgaar had to say, but also exhausted. This fact was only made clearer when he let out a large yawn and asked, "What you want, Skwisgaar?"
"You wasn't at breakfast this mor-"
"What the fuck is this?" Nathan asked as he finished reading the note Toki had given to him. He rose to his feet and held up the paper. "Who the fuck wrote this?"
Pickles reached for it. "Why? What does it say?"
Honestly he was just plain curious about Toki after last night. He hadn't had a great morning either, and he was still tired from the night before. Tired from the hangover the booze had left him with and the horrible weakness the dream had put into his body. Nathan let him have it before turning to Skwisgaar, who had proceeded to use Toki's shoulder as a footrest for his dirty boots.
"You wrote that piece of shit, dildo?"
Pickles read the note, frowning. It said in the clear, broken English and bold writing of Skwisgaar:
Dear Tokis,
I ammnest just haves been thoughts that you should know dat at
9 is when breakfast is served for the REAL musicians.
Since you really is not a REAL musician or parts of this band,
I thoughts we'd let you sleep in and skips breakfast since you ain't
wants to eat yesterday anyways. Anyways, hopes you wasn't hungry or nothing.
When you decide to let real musician take your place, I may let you eats piece of
breads or somethings before we kicks you outs of Mordhaus.
Until you quits or I kicks out out of band,
~~SKWISGAAR SKWIGELF
[REAL guitarist]
Once he was done reading, he stared over at Toki, whose hands were in his lap. The Norwegian was staring off at nothing, his pale blue eyes utterly empty. As Nathan grabbed Skwisgaar by a handful of his hair, Toki said dully, "I hungry. Can't I just goes in kitchen and-"
"What the fuck was that?" Nathan demanded. Skwisgaar just let out a laugh and kicked Toki as hard as he could in the back of the head before the singer had a chance to throw him to the ground.
Toki just let out a shocked and pained yelp and fell face-first into a coffee table, busting his mouth squarely on the corner of it. He fell onto the ground nearly sobbing and gripping his bleeding mouth, crying, "Ows! Shits, I hits my stupid fuckings—SHIT!"
Nathan barley gave him notice. He was too busy yelling at Skwisgaar. "You stupid dick! I fucking told you to be nice to him! I fucking told you!"
Skwisgaar just got to his feet, shrugged, and dusted himself off. "Why you care so much, huh? We all knows he ammnest not goings to last, so why you care?"
"Yeah," Murderface agreed, watching Toki writhe, smiling. "It'sh fucking funny."
"No," Pickles spoke up, suddenly getting to his feet. "No it's fucking nat. It's nat funny at all, you asshole. Look at him! He busted his face up and you're still are actin' like a dick!"
"We all agrees," Skwisgaar said, crossing his arms. " 'Dat we wouldn't cares about each other or get into personal lives-ses, so why you two cares so much abouts him? Huh? What so special about stupid, useless Toki?"
All at once, Pickles' dream came flooding back to him, and the voice of the man from the nightmare came back to him as well, yelling in that foreign language all over again. He felt horrible, nauseated. Sick. The yelling didn't stop—wouldn't stop—no matter how much he silently begged it to, and not knowing what else to do, Pickles fell to his knees, feeling what little strength he had leave him.
Nathan stared over at him, a brow arched. "Pickles, you okay?"
He shook his head and said in a slurred voice, "Na-ah, I got a real bad heada—headac-" suddenly he was hunched over and puking up the little food he had eaten for breakfast. Everyone watched this with mixtures of amusement and disgust—everyone except Toki, who just tried to act invisible. When Pickles was done, he closed his eyes tightly, trying not to repeat what else he had done last night—crying and yelling out Toki's name.
The Norwegian watched him and said softly, "I...I thinks I needs eat."
"Okay, yeah," Nathan said. All of his anger seemed to have become lost to him as he helped Toki to his feet and pointed to the door. "Fine. Pickles, do you think you can eat? Are you hungry or something, you sick motherfucker?"
"I...I—oh, Gad...I'll go with him." he said, getting shakily to his feet and stumbling to the door. "Gotta get me some more vadka anyways..."
He went out the door, Toki following close behind, staring at him oddly. "Pickle, you oka-"
"Toki, look. I'm not trying to be mean or nothin', but I really had a bad night, and now all I taste is puke, and I have a really bad headache, so could you just—wait, Toki?" a question had popped into his head, one that he couldn't ignore. Though he hadn't been able to see anyone in his dream, he was sure that Toki had been there...somehow...
The Norwegian asked kindly, "Ja?"
"Where'd you live in Norway? Ya know, 'fore you came here."
"I...oh..." he swallowed and said almost painfully, "Lillehammer."
Pickles felt his heart drop. "Uh-huh. And where'd you live? Like in a house or-"
"I—why you care so much?" Toki's tone was suddenly hostile, and as Pickles became silent he looked down and answered sheepishly, "Little, wood house. Lots of trees-es and stuff arounds it, you know."
"Snow too?"
He nodded. "Ja, and sometimes when it snow, if you been outsides for long time, so long you start shiverings and your fingers go numb and your skin turns-es a little blue, the snows actually feels warm," Toki recollected, smiling a little at his old childhood memories. His lost, dead memories. "And when you looks up, sun ams so small and worthless-lookings it almost seems makes you colder. Makes you feel like nothings, almost."
Pickles felt a lump forming in his throat as he nodded. "Uh-huh. What else?"
Suddenly the guitarist was hesitant. His old shyness was returning to him now as he said, "I...I don'ts know. I don't wants to talk abouts it, only eat and go back to slee—hey, Pickle?"
"Huh?"
"I...I woke up last nights and it was real dark...I sort of-"
"What, Toki?"
The Norwegian turned a little red as he said, "-forgots where I was. I gots real scared, and...I was wonderings if...maybes I could sleeps in your room tonights?"
Pickles sighed. "Gad, Toki, I dunno..."
"Please, just for tonights. I promise!"
He shook his head, wanting to say no, but found himself saying instead, "Yeah, I guess. Can't hurt nothin'."
Toki let out a grateful sigh and wrapped his arms around the drummer's neck, saying gleefully, "Gods, thanks you so fucking much, Pickle!"
"It's fine. You're cool, I guess."
"Reallys? You mean we-"
"Toki, if you say it and ruin it, 'den-"
"-we friends?"
He rolled his eyes and pulled Toki off of him. "God damn it, I said don't ruin it."
"We friends?" he repeated.
Though he knew it was strictly against band rules to admit any form of friendship and affection towards anyone, Pickles nodded. "Yeah, I guess we are."
Toki followed him into the kitchen and found himself a place to sit down. The drummer went over to the fridge and got himself a bottle of booze then turned to Toki. "Whadda want?"
"You mean I can have whatevers?"
"Sure, I guess," Pickles responded with a shrug. "As long as I can cook it."
He grinned. "You can cook?"
"I guess so. Sure, why the fuck not?"
"I wants some—oh, I knows! In Norway once I tried this really goods stuff that was like sweet ice. Like snows, only betters."
"Like ice cream or somethin'?"
He nodded and responded sweetly, "Ja, I thinks that was it. Taste like chocolate."
"Okay, ice cream. Right." Pickles said as he went over and looked in the freezer.
He didn't know why, but he really did want to serve Toki. Maybe it was because he felt as though no matter how stupid he looked or how badly he messed up, Toki wouldn't think any less of him. Pickles liked that. He didn't feel like a fool at all when he was with him, so he didn't call any stupid Klokateers to get the ice cream. He dug it out of the freezer himself and worked to scoop it out. Toki watched him and as he was handed a a bowl of chocolate and strawberry ice cream, he frowned.
"What the pink stuffs?"
"Oh, 'dat?" Pickles asked, pointing to the strawberry flavor. " 'Dat's strawberry. Ain't you never had strawberry ice cream before?"
Toki knitted his brow together and shook his head. "Sta-herry? Nos, I haves never had none of that before. In Norway we just haves a lot of herring. You ever had herring?"
He shook his head and sat next to the guitarist, eating his ice cream straight out of the carton. "Nope. It's like fish, though, right?"
"Ja," the Norwegian said, nodding and eating a little bit of the pink ice cream. Once he had swallowed, he let out a little laugh and said, "Wowee, this stuff ams good! We don't haves none of this stuff in Norway!" he ate the rest eagerly, savoring every rich and sweet bite. "Almost better than pickle herring." he nudged the drummer and asked happily, "You ever had any of that before? Pickle herring?"
Pickles shook his head and said thru a mouthful of chocolate ice cream, "Nah, never even heard of it. Is it good or somethin'?"
"Good?" Toki repeated. "It ams the best."
"So what? It's like your favorite or somethin'?"
"Oh, yeah, it's really good." he sighed and then looked down at his spoon. He didn't speak for a moment, and when he finally did he sounded a little downcast. "It's good. Everyone in Norway likes it."
Pickles swallowed and frowned. "Hey, Toki?"
"Huh?" he asked, looking into the drummer's green eyes.
"You miss Norway, don't ya?"
"Ja," he admitted. "I really dos." then he stared into his empty bowl and yawned. "I tired. I didn't gets much sleep last nights."
"Neither did I." Pickles said, eating some more ice cream. He offered the carton to Toki. "Want some more?"
He shook his head and said, "No thanks you. But anyways, why can't you sleep?"
"Huh?"
"Why can'ts you been sleeping last nights?"
"I...uh..."
"I can't sleep 'cause I just don'ts like this place," Toki said, rubbing his stomach. He licked his lips and looked around. "Hey, Pickle?" he was speaking offhandedly now. "Do you thinks—never mind. It ams stupid."
A small grin spread across the drummer's face as he punched Toki lightly on his shoulder. "C'mon, what is it?"
"Could you dos me favor?"
"Sure. Depends on what it is, but-"
"Herring, could yous make Klokateers gets me some?"
"I...sure," he said, shrugging. "Yeah, I guess. What kind? I really don't know how it comes, but-"
"Any kind—pickle, raw, dry. I don'ts care. I eats it all."
Pickles chuckled and asked, "Raw? You eat raw fish?"
Toki nodded. "Ja, it ams really good. You should try some."
"Yeah, yum...raw fish." and he added disgustedly, "Just Ma like back home on Tomahawk..."
"Your moms used to cooks herr-"
"Toki, I'm only kiddin'. God."
He laughed and said delightedly, "Wowee, Pickle, you ams really great! You really gonna get me some? Huh?"
The drummer nodded. "Yeah, sure. We'll get you some stupid, douchebag herring if you want it."
The Norwegian jumped up from his seat and hugged him. "Thanks, Pickle! Really! I owes you big favor!"
"Yeah," Pickles said, trying to squirm out of the hug. Hugging in the kitchen was a bit too obvious...if someone walked in on him right now, they'd never let him live it down. "Look, it's fine, just chill out." Toki let him go and plopped back down in his seat, smiling gleefully. He scooped another spoonful of ice cream out of the carton and ate it, humming. Pickles watched this and finally said, "See? Toki, look."
The Norwegian looked up, a questioning look in his pale blue eyes. "Huh, Pickle?"
"It's gonna be okay, alright? You don't need to quit or nothin', right?"
Toki thought for a moment then grinned. "No, I ain'ts never gonna quit. Thanks, Pickle."
"Sure," he said, turning a little red. "No prablem."
And he reached over and opened up the bottle of booze he had gotten earlier. He took a deep sip from it then sighed, feeling content—something he hadn't felt in a long time.
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Chapter 3, Part 2
Little Piece Of Home
Later that night the Klokateers announced that they had gone to a store and purchased all of the herring they had in stock for little Toki. Upon hearing this, Skwisgaar let out a groan and let his head fall into his hands despairingly. "God damns it! I already eats enough of 'dat shit in Sweden! Toki, why the hells you ammnest wantings 'dat crap to have been eatings tonight?"
Toki had responded to this with a shrug and, "It ams my favorite."
"I'd rather eat snow," the Swede insisted. He gave the Norwegian a smug, sideways glance and said, "But I'm sure that yous haves eaten plenty of snows. Your families was poor trash, huh Tokis?"
This made Pickles want to jump up and punch him right in his face, but Toki's reaction to these harsh words stopped him. The guitarist just grinned and said, putting some of his long, brown hair behind his ears, "Lot richer than your parents-es, I sure, Skwisgaar. At least my mom ams not stupids, Swedish slut."
Everyone had laughed at this, even Murderface. "Ha! That'sh funny, 'caushe Shkwishgaar'sh mom ish a whore!"
Nathan rolled his eyes and growled, "Murderface, just shut the fuck up; the dumb joke's not funny if you explain it, idiot."
And so dinner came. Toki sat next to Pickles, and as soon as the chef placed the plate of pickled herring in front of him, he took a large bite, smiled, and put some on the drummer's plate. "You try?"
He shook his head, staring at the fish with disgust. It looked half raw. "No, really. I'm goo-"
"Pickle, you promises me..."
The drummer sighed and picked up his fork. "Yeah, fine, fine." he bit his lip as he stabbed at the fish. Before opening his mouth he let out a little, "Fuck it." and ate it all in one bite. Toki watched this and laughed. Pickles' face was overtaken by a look of a mixture of sickness and confusion as he struggled to swallow the fish.
"You likes it?"
The drummer shook his head. "Sorry, Toki, but honestly I'd rather it if I just stuck to my hot dogs and you stuck to your stupid fish."
"You funny, Pickle."
"Yeah," he agreed. "Hilarious."
Truth be told, the herring really didn't taste bad, just like normal fish. The drummer didn't like fish, though, so he thought it quite disgusting and was grateful to resume dousing his hot dog in mustard and ketchup before eating it in a few bites. Of course he put a few dill pickles on it. He knew it was ironic, but he liked pickles on just about everything—except herring.
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Chapter 3, Part 3
Breaking Boundaries
After dinner Pickles lead Toki up to his room, but not before stopping by the Norwegian's room to get his teddy. Once Toki stepped into the drummer's room, his eyes grew wide. "Wowee," he said. "You sure do gots big bed."
"And you don't?"
He shook his head and went to sit down on it. "Nope. I gots single ones."
"Oh." was all Pickles could think to say as he watched Toki take off his boots and begin to remove his shirt. What he saw really pissed him off.
After all of the stupid ice cream and the pounds of herring Toki had eaten, it didn't show in his figure. He seemed to be made of pure muscle, but not so much that it was sick. Just enough to be considered nice. Pickles began chewing his lip and sat down on the edge of the bed, ignoring the Norwegian's curious glance.
"Hey, Pickle?"
"Huh?"
"Ain't you gonna gets ready for-"
"I'm ready."
He smiled. "You sleeps in that?"
The drummer nodded. "Yep, all the time. Never take it aff."
Toki laughed. "Even your shoes?"
"Shut up!" Pickles said, also smiling as he threw a pillow at the guitarist. Toki caught it and hit him over the head with it, grinning.
"Ha, yous fun, Pickle."
"Yeah, I know. Alright then, hold on."
He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and took off his shirt and his shoes and socks, then laid down on the bed in an effort to seem slimmer. He certainly wasn't fat, but all of the booze he always drank didn't do him any favors. In fact, it had started to give him a little bit of a gut, a pudge that hung just over his jeans. Pickles tried to hide this, and generally did a good job at it, but now he felt his face turning red as Toki stared at him.
"Ha," Toki finally said, poking at Pickles' pudgy stomach and smiling. "You fat."
"Don't touch me! I am not fat!" he said, slapping away the guitarist's hands. Toki recoiled and frowned a little, laying back on the bed as well.
"Wowee, I ams only kidding, Pickle. It not bad thing."
"What ain't a bad thing?"
"That you pudgy."
"I am not-"
"You knows it 'cause you drinks so much."
"Don't tell me what to do!" the drummer warned.
Toki looked up at him and challenged, "Or whats?"
"Or I'll fuckin' kill you!" Pickles yelled, grabbing a pillow and pressing it over the Norwegian's face, ignoring the laughter that was rising from his throat. "Dumb German!"
"I ams not German, I-"
"Don't matter, douchebag, I'm still gonna-"
"Pickle, Pickle! Let's go! I can't breathe!"
"Oh, shit," he said, immediately pulling away. "Sorry, dude, sorry. I didn't mean to-"
But Toki was hugging himself, laughing so hard that his face was turning red. The drummer didn't know why, but he began laughing too, until he couldn't breathe. Only then did he stop, reach over, grab a bottle of vodka from his nightstand, and take a large swallow from it. Toki watched him, still trying to regain his breath.
"You got really scareds."
"Shut up." he said, drinking some more.
"No, you reallys did."
"Shut it, Toki." then he glanced over at the Norwegian, watched as his muscular frame inhaled and exhaled, and frowned. "Hey ya, Toki?"
"Ja?"
"You really think I shouldn't drink so much? I wish I didn't, but it's just so damn good, y'know?" the drummer began rapping his fingers on his stomach as he put the bottle to his lips again. He knew he shouldn't care so much, that caring wasn't brutal, but he couldn't help it. Toki was really the only person who had ever cared enough to comment on his excessive drinking. The others mentioned it, but only in mockery, when he was slurring and staggering around and at his worst.
"Looks, it's fine, reallys." Toki said, shrugging. Pickles let him reach over, grab the remote, and switch on the T.V. That hung on the wall in front of them. The Norwegian paused and switched it to some stupid cartoon before saying, "At least you not like me."
Pickles scoffed. "Are you fucking kidding me? Toki, everyone wants to be like you."
The Norwegian frowned and stared scornfully down at his flat, muscular stomach. "What you mean? I hates it. I'm too—ugh. Just toos much, you knows?"
"Yeah, I guess."
Truthfully, Pickles actually had no earthly clue what Toki meant, but he still acted like he did anyway. Besides, as the guitarist poked at his stomach again and said, "You nice. Not like mes." it made him feel better.
"Well, you shouldn't complain," the drummer insisted, slapping Toki's hands away from him again. "Hey, stop 'dat! I ain't no fuckin' pillow!"
"Sorrys." he said, looking down. There was a moment of silence before Toki added, "I don'ts likes mes—you knows, my stomach, neither."
"Yeah, well, I don't like mine, so I guess we're even."
He nodded. "I guess we is."
They both grew silent as Spongebob came on the television. Pickles sighed and rolled his eyes in a quiet way of showing his discontent. Toki noticed and changed the channel to something else begrudgingly. He flipped thru every single channel twice before finally cursing and throwing the remote down so hard that the back flew off and the two batteries popped out. Pickles looked over at Toki after this display of anger, a pierced brow raised.
"Toki, what-"
"Fucks this!" he yelled, inhaling sharply, trying very hard not to cry as he sat up. "Fucks it..."
Pickles swallowed and nudged his shoulder lightly. "Hey, Toki? What's-"
"I don't understands it, Pickle."
"Don't understand what?"
His pale blue eyes met the drummer's blazing green ones as he said, his voice full of desperation, "Anythings they say! It all like ramblings!"
"Oh. You mean 'cause 'dey speak English?"
Toki nodded and let his head fall into his hands. "Ja, it really hard, 'cause half the times I been here I don't knows what anyone say. Like when I sign the con-hact I-"
"You mean the contract?"
The guitarist nodded again. "Ja, that. When I signs it, I only knows what to do 'cause I seen you and everyone else dos it—I can't understand word that man in the suits say."
Pickles frowned. "Oh, Gad. I'm really sorr-"
"I'm so tireds of being confused-ded." Toki admitted, falling back onto the mattress and closing his eyes. Pickles did the same, only instead of shutting his eyes, he reached over and, not really knowing what else to do, squeezed Toki's shoulder.
"It'll get better."
"Hows you know?"
"Just trust me. Go to sleep."
"Buts I-"
"Shut up," he said, smiling a little and crawling under the covers. "Shut up and go to sleep."
Toki nodded and whispered, " 'Kay." but before rolling over and closing his eyes he said, "Pickle, why yous understands me so well? Why I know what you say so good?"
"Huh?" he asked.
"I don't get what everyone else say, buts I always haves been understandings you. Why you thinks that is?"
He shrugged. "I dunno, Toki."
"Oh. And Pickle?"
"Yeah?"
"Sorry I broke your remotes."
Pickles grinned and said, "It's fine. 'Night."
And he reached over and switched off his light, but not before taking one last sip from the bottle of vodka.
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Chapter 3, Part 4
The Scars Of Never Letting Go
That night Pickles was trapped in the same dream as the night before, only this time he knew clearly who was being shouted at. It was almost like magic. Suddenly he could hear and understand any word of the Norwegian language, and this when the boy came staggering out the house and the man followed, shouting at him, Pickles understood ever word.
Every single horrible, tortuous word.
Get out of here, the cloaked man said. You stupid, useless-
But Dad, I'm sorry. I promise I won't make another mistake...
Don't call me 'Dad'.
But-
I want you to leave, you piece of trash. You are no son of mine, and you are certainly not any part of this family.
The boy was crying as he said, his words slurring together amidst his tears, I love you, Dad. I'm sorry. I-
And the door to the house was slammed in his face, but not before the father had said in his cold, unnerving voice, Toki Wartooth, you do not know anything and you certainly don't know what love is. You are useless. You have no place here or anywhere else. You'd be better off dead.
Pickles shook his head and repeated to himself, "Dead? What the fuck..."
What had they been fighting about to evoke such horrible words? The drummer didn't know, but what he had heard was enough. He was falling again, hugging himself, freezing to death in the warm snow that was falling onto his bare arms and skin...
"Toki," he sobbed, covering his face with his hands. "T-Toki, please don't listen to him...Toki, wake me up, please. Don't leave me like this, help me...Toki? Toki?"
"Pickle?" He blinked and began rubbing his eyes as the sweet, half-asleep voice of the Norwegian repeated, "Pickle, you okay? Wakes up, Pickle, wakes up."
He shook himself and opened his eyes with a groan. Toki was standing above him, his brown hair messy and wild. His eyes were half open, clearly still thinking of a sleep he couldn't have. As soon as Pickles saw him, the drummer swallowed and brought his hands to his face, covering his own exhausted, green eyes.
"T-Toki?"
"Ja?"
The drummer looked up, peered into his eyes. "Why'd you wake me up?"
Toki's face was confused as he said, "Pickle, I was—you was screamings."
"I...what?"
"You say, 'Toki, wakes me up, please', and sos I did." he frowned and sat down on the floor next to Pickles. "You not having good dream?"
"I..." he shook his head and said, "No, just go back to sleep."
He intended for that to be the end of it, but as Toki rose to his feet and turned around, Pickles' eyes grew wide. The guitarist's back was covered in scars. They were deep, visible and seeming to glow against the skin of Toki's back as he retreated back to his side of the bed and crawled beneath the covers. The drummer sat up immediately and switched on the lamp.
Roughly, he pushed Toki out of the bed and instructed, "Turn around for me."
The Norwegian's eyes showed a dull fear as he asked, "What? Whys?"
"Just do it. I wanna see somethin'."
"Buts I—why? There ain't nothings to-"
"Toki, please."
The guitarist bit his lip and turned around, his hands nervously twisting handfuls of his long hair. Pickles shook his head as the scars became visible in the light of the lamp. They crisscrossed and zigzagged the whole of Toki's back, all subtle pearl colors or deep purple. All of them were old, but some weren't as faded as the rest. Despite himself, Pickles reached out and ran his hand across the Norwegian's back lightly, his mouth agape.
As his fingertips grazed the scarred flesh, Toki jumped away and whirled around, his face red and his eyes shining brightly with tears. "Don'ts touch it!" he sniffled a little and added in a small, quivering voice, "Still hurt."
"No," he said in a shaking voice. "No, Toki, scars don't hurt."
"Mines do."
Pickles closed his eyes, trying to get the horrible dream and images of the scars out of his brain. He managed to say thru his shock, "Toki, what happened to you?"
"I don't knows what you mean." he said, reaching down on the floor and grabbing his blue shirt. The drummer took the shirt from him and ripped it away, shaking his head. He didn't know what to do. He just wished suddenly that he'd told Toki to sleep in his own room,because this was beginning to be to much. To much for him to understand, to much for him to process. It took all of his energy to even speak. God, he was tired.
"Look, I'm...I'm sorry, but who did 'dis to you?"
The Norwegian's pale blue eyes began leaking tears as he replied, his voice wavering, "I dids it...to myself..."
"Toki, I'm not gonna tell. I swear to God. Where'd you get all the scars from?" Pickles had never wanted so badly in his life to help someone, to hear what they had to say. He hung on to each and every one of Toki's words as if they were pure spun gold, desperate to relieve him of the obvious pain he was in.
"I tolds you, I dids it to myself, okays? I make mistakes, and I deserves it! I...I..." his voice was breaking suddenly. He opened his mouth and his Adam's apple bobbed madly as he tried to talk, but no words came out. Finally he sat down on the bed and sobbed, "I can'ts tell you! No matters what! I dids it, I really did!"
"Toki, don't you dare bullshit me!" Pickles said, scooting closer to him and nudging him a little, trying to bring him back to reality. "Look, you can believe me, I swear to-"
"Sometimes I makes mistakes, before I lefts home." Toki said. He was speaking quickly, wanting so badly to get it off his chest. "My parents-es, they haves me do stuffs and when I fucks it up, they hurts mes real bads. Someitmes I just wish I was dead. You don'ts know how close I was, Pickle. How close I was to just quittings it..."
"Quitin' what?"
"Everythings."
There was a heavy pause. One in which Toki gave himself a minute or two to full on cry and wrap his arms around himself in a sheer act of self defense against the drummer's questions and prying eyes. Only then did Pickles dare scoot closer to him and reach out. He held the Norwegian tightly, trying to give him a hug. Trying to make it better. "Sorry, Toki. I didn't mean to make you cry, I didn't. Just forget it. If you don't wanna, you don't gotta talk."
"I always fucks it all up," he kept repeating. "Fucks it up, that's alls I do...stupid Tokis always fuck it up..."
"Toki, shut up." Pickles whispered softly. The guitarist began shaking in the drummer's arms, his crying beginning to take an irreversible hold on him. He could barley speak.
"I forgots they were there—the scars. You wasn't supposed to see."
"It's fine."
"You hates me?"
"No."
Toki found it in himself to let out a little chuckle amidst his open sobs. "Pickle, you happy I in band?"
He thought about it for a moment then nodded. "Yeah, I guess I am."
"That ams good...'cause you knows what?"
"Huh?"
"Secretlys I really ams scared to get sent back to Norway—to go back to my parents. They kicks me out. They saids really bad things..."
"Toki, listen, I dreamed about you." Pickles said. He knew he shouldn't tell Toki—he knew he shouldn't tell anyone about it—but he did anyway. Because Toki deserved to know. Toki deserved so many things. "I know what they said and it's all bullshit. You're not stupid and you're not worthless and-"
"I deserves to be dead?"
"N-No," he said, trying not to cry himself. "Nah, you don't." when Toki didn't speak, he added, "Listen, you ain't gonna quit, right?"
He felt him shake his head and heard him whisper, "Nos, never."
"Toki, you ain't trash. You know 'dat, right?"
There was a long pause then, "Sures. Whatever you say."
Then he let Toki go and slapped him lightly on the cheek, once again trying to get his attention. "Look," he said kindly. "Toki, look at me." the Norwegian met his gaze, sniffling. Pickles said, "Okay, look, I'm sorry. I'm a dick, okay? Just forget it."
"It fine, Pickle."
"No, it's not, Toki. Trust me, it's not."
He shrugged. "It's fine, reallys. It ams just stupids me, Pickle. My stupids fuck up. You wasn't supposed to knows; nobody knows. Not even Nathans. Don't tells him, please. Even though he ams already sees it, he don't knows why they there..."
Pickles frowned. "Wait, hold up. Nathan's already seen the scars?"
Toki faltered and opened his mouth, then closed it again. His cheeks were flaming as he looked away and admitted, "Uh...ja, he dids."
"Huh? What the fuck? You showed him or somethin'?"
He shook his head and said quietly, with much shame, "Nos, other reasons..."
The way his voice trailed off made Pickles' stomach twist. "I...uh...Toki, what the fuck happened between you and him?"
Toki bit his lip and responded simply, "Looks, I hads to dos it or he saids I couldn't be in Dethklok..."
"Toki, Gad, what'd he make you do?"
He leaned close and whispered into the drummer's ear. "He saids I can't tell 'cause it would makes him gay or somethings..."
Pickles' eyes grew wide. "Huh?"
"He makes me suck hims dick."
The words echoed in the room long after Toki had said them. The drummer shook his head and breathed, "What? You mean he made you-"
"Pickle, I really hads to get out of Norway before I kills myself...no matter whats, I had to get out..."
He swallowed and asked in a disgusted whisper, "You mean he-"
"Ja."
"-made you-"
Toki nodded. "Ja."
"-suck his dick?"
"Ja."
He began laughing madly, repeating, "Nathan Explosion made a fucking dude suck his dick!"
Toki's hand covered the drummer's mouth. He shook his head and said, "Looks, you can't tells anyone. He saids if I tells, I get kicked out of bands!"
Pickles shook his head and slapped Toki on the shoulder. "Toki, look, he can't kick you out. It'd take a majority vo...yeah, you should just keep 'dat to yourself, then."
It had been decided a long time ago that if anyone wanted to kick another person out of the band, it would be put to a vote, and when it came to that, if Nathan wanted Toki out, he could get him out. Skwisgaar and Murderface would inevitably be on his side, so no matter how Pickles voted it really wouldn't make much of a difference.
He grinned at this and said lightheartedly, "Look, I'm not into that shit, but sometimes I guess you just have to do what you gotta do, right? I mean, you wouldn't wanted to have done 'dat on your own, right?"
Toki shook his head. "Gods, no. It's disgusting."
"Good. So just to be clear and everything, you're not gay, right?"
"Nos, no way!"
"Huh. Okay, 'den." he switched the lamp back off. "Alright, then. I guess we should just go to bed. Oh, and by the way, tomorrow the Klokateers are brinin' in some groupies, and since I haven't fucked anything for a few days straight, I'm gonna need for you to sleep in your own room, 'kay?"
"Okays. This ams only was supposed to be for tonights anyway."
"Good. 'Cuase the thing is that I'm really fuckin' horny, and-"
"Pickle, please. I don'ts know where this ams going, but don't make me suck your dick, too."
Pickles laughed and shook his head in the darkness. "No fuckin' way, but just—you know, maybe you should start spendin' more time with Skwisgaar. After all, he's the one who writes your music, so tomorrow I could take you to his room to get a few songs that you could practice or somethin'..."
"Oh, ja, woulds you?"
"Sure."
Toki let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank Gods for you, Pickle. That ams really good, because I was scareds to do it myself."
"Toki, you ain't gotta be scared of Skwisgaar. He's a dildo."
"Rights. Well, anyways, goodnights, Pickle. And thanks."
"For what?"
The guitarist hesitated before saying, "Everythings."
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**A/N**
I am editing Chapter 3-5 half sick. I'm literally struggling not to fall asleep at my keyboard, so cut me a break if it reads oddly. Please tell me if you see any spelling/grammatical errors. I appreciate it.
~~the Last Flowerchild
[Peace & Love]