A/N: Hello! I've been lurking in the CoB fandom over on RockFic for the last two years, and have been chipping away at a handful of my own fics. After reading DarQuiel7 (on RockFic)'s lovely works, I figured it was about time I shared something. So here's a little story I was able to clean up and finish. It's open-ended and a little rushed, honestly, because this was originally meant to be something way longer, but I never felt like actually writing all of that, haha. But I tried to make it short and sweet without feeling incomplete. Also was not beta read, I apologize if it shows.
I took some inspiration from Alexi's suicide attempt in '97 and some clues about the circumstances of his death, but this is in no way meant to be an accurate or literal depiction of his experiences, merely a work of dramatized fiction. I always wish for more fics exploring their 90s/pre-fame era! Title and lyric excerpt are from 'End of the Road' by Sentenced.
If you enjoy this, please leave a review! I thrive on feedback (and need more COBHC friends). ❤️
His life's over, his life's over
Or has it only just begun?
Alexi stifles a sob with a swig of Jack. Salty tears drip down his cheeks as he winces and swallows. It's over. The band is finished. Everything that could have gone wrong, had, and the gig they'd been riding so much on was a complete disaster. The sparse crowd they'd had to start with thinned to nothing, and Henkka walked out mid-set, equipment failure and frustration driving him to an uncommon state of anger.
To add insult to injury, Kim (who'd filled in for Janne) suggested that maybe Alexi's pre-gamed state of inebriation might have been the fault of their dismal performance. She'd blamed it all on him! Like a knife to the back, that felt like the deepest kind of betrayal. Kim had never said something so scathing!
He looks at his reflection in the mirror, eyes red-rimmed and dripping with kohl, and hates himself. They'd all be better off without me, he thinks with a pang of grief. Yeah. Alex is more than capable of playing Alexi's leads, and they'd have no trouble finding another rhythm guitarist. Pete would surely love to join; he could take over on vocals, as well. The kid's got a hell of a growl, far deeper and more powerful than Alexi's own. He could front Children of Bodom with the energy, passion, and presence that Alexi lacks with his anxious, self-destructive ways.
This is it, then. He closes his eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath. There's no need to leave a note. Kim and Alex know everything he'd like to say, where he'd like his things to go. He opens his eyes again, reaching into the medicine cabinet for the bottle of tranquilizers they'd given to his mom after his last stay at the psych ward. Just one of these little pills could take him right out of one of his violent psychotic episodes into blissful tranquility. How many would be enough to stop his heart, he wonders? He can't focus his eyes well enough to read the tiny print on the label. Whatever. Probably doesn't take more than a handful.
He dumps as many as he can swallow into his palm, washing them down with the rest of his Jack. He slides down to the floor, feeling a bit queasy as the tranquilizers take effect. His vision grows dark.
Peace…at last.
It's cold.
Alexi's eyes struggle to adjust, until he realizes it's just…black. He's…lying down? He wiggles his fingers experimentally, finding that he is able to do so, but with no feeling. He glances down at himself. He's naked.
Weird.
Alexi stands on shaky legs, disoriented. "What is this place?" he wonders aloud, glancing around. The sky is black and starless, stretching like an endless void above him, and a thick grey mist swirls around his legs. It's as if everything is in black and white, like the TV he'd watched Knight Rider on growing up. He shivers. "Am I…dead?"
An amused chuckle makes Alexi jump.
"H-hello?"
A shadowy figure emerges from the mist, and Alexi's heartbeat quickens. Tall, cloaked in black rags and a hat, the image of death regards him with black diamond eyes and a wolfish, toothy grin. A three-fingered hand curls around a crude scythe.
"You're Tuoni," Alexi says. "The god of Death."
"An astute observation," the wraith whispers.
"So…I'm dead?" Alexi feels some disappointment. In hindsight, what he'd done was pretty fucking stupid. What a waste. They'd never even toured outside Finland yet.
But Tuoni chuckles. "No, not yet. But you will be."
"What do you mean?" Alexi frowns. Suddenly, the mist engulfs him, and when it clears, he is in an unfamiliar place. As if watching a movie, he is peering within an apartment. Black padded walls, purple string lights, and a cheetah print throw blanket over the couch. A fake palm tree in the corner. All unfamiliar, and yet somehow he knows these are his belongings.
"What is this?" he asks, unsettled.
"Watch, little one," Tuoni whispers, leading him down a hallway and into the bedroom.
Alexi sees himself lying in the bed, years older and looking like a ghost of himself. He sees prescription bottles lined up on the bedside table, all half empty. His beloved guitars, the ones that'd never seen a stage or the inside of an airplane, all neatly stored on their rack. A familiar blue Dodge Monaco—the one he and Janne have been saving up to buy together—can be seen from the window, sitting faithfully in the parking lot below.
Things, though—not people. Nothing comparable to the gentle caress of Kim's hand on his cheek, or the warm, solid embrace of Janne's arms around him. The only two people he's ever truly loved, seemingly both estranged from him by his reckless behavior, his constant drinking and drug abuse, his difficult attitude and fear of intimacy. He is completely alone, and the frail state of his body reflects that in sallow, grey skin, visible bones, and deep bags under lifeless eyes.
Alexi's blood runs cold as he realizes he is watching his own death.
"This is what you become, little Wildchild," Tuoni whispers. "A sad husk of a man, all alone in his last moments."
"No," Alexi whispers, mournfully. "No, this isn't how I...i-it can't be."
"Look at you," Death says. "You give yourself over to me so completely."
Alexi watches in horror as his twin jolts with a pained sob, clutching his middle. He cries, as Alexi always has when in pain, but it's different somehow; lonely and mournful, and Alexi looks away with tears in his own eyes.
"Stop it," he pleads. "I don't want to see this."
"Watch," Tuoni insists, cupping Alexi's cheeks in cold hands and turning his face back to the scene before them. Alexi's older twin shudders helplessly on his bed, curled around his stomach—Alexi sees it, like having x-ray vision, his liver and pancreas that he'd abused so relentlessly–swollen, discolored, and decaying; now failing, shutting down and obliterating any pain defense the copious medications he'd taken could offer. It happens quickly, but it seems endless to Alexi, seeing himself awash in regret and pain and unbearable loneliness in his last moments. He watches himself gasping weakly as his body shuts down around him, the shuddering slowing as his muscles lose strength.
"Janne..." he rasps mournfully, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Kim…I'm sorry...I fucked up..." He closes his eyes, drawing in one last rattling breath, and falls still.
Alexi cries, covering his face with his hands as Tuoni leers at him. "Why would you show me this?" he asks miserably.
"An excellent question," Tuoni responds. "I've seen this many, many times. I must say I feel very little sympathy for you. You made all of the choices that led to this outcome. Your death is not unjust, nor particularly tragic."
"Then what is this?" Alexi asks, sniffling. "Is this Hell? Am I made to watch my own mistakes again and again and stew in my regrets for the rest of eternity?"
Tuoni chuckles mirthlessly. "No, little one, this is not Hell. That which you speak of no longer exists. This is...shall I say, a glimpse. A rare occasion. Your attempted suicide, as you have seen, is not meant to be. But over the next twenty-three years, you commit yourself to a far more elaborately constructed suicide which ultimately leads to your very sad, lonely death. It seems odd, to me, that you would survive this suicide and yet walk the path that you do. Is it not human nature to survive? Yet, I see this story play out with troubling frequency."
"So, what? Is this an intervention? A second chance?" Alexi scoffs. "What makes me different from any other sad alcoholic bastard?"
"Nothing," Tuoni answers, smiling. "Nothing at all. As I said, this is merely a glimpse. An experiment. I am curious to see how the knowledge of your own fate may change the outcome."
"I can prevent my own death?" Alexi asks.
"I do not know," says Tuoni. "It is not supposed to be possible, but perhaps it may be. Certainly you will die at some point, but it may not be written in stone after all that you will die on that day, in that way."
"Will I even remember this?"
"So many questions. But, no, not so specifically," Tuoni explains. "You will wake from your overdose with a dream-like recollection of this glimpse, but no memory of my presence. You will simply know that when your time does come, you are alone, and it is entirely your own fault. You will know undoubtedly that this is true, and not a fabrication or work of your own imagination. Of course, nobody else will believe you."
"Have you done this to someone before?"
"Many times," Tuoni grins. "It does not change the course of their death. However...you may yet surprise me."
"Fuck yeah, I'm gonna surprise you," Alexi growls. "I'm not dying like that, alone and sick. That's just fuckin' sad."
"Hm. We shall see. Now, go, little one. People who love you are waiting. You haven't estranged them…yet." Tuoni's lips curl in a wry smirk.
Alexi comes to slowly, fighting the thick blanket of sleep induced by copious tranquilizers. His ears prick as he hears familiar voices speaking, hushed.
"...He's got enough problems, and boozing and globetrotting is only adding to them. He's gonna get seriously sick someday."
Alexi's heart pulls. Kim.
"He was sick before he got us all together. Making music is helping him get better."
And…Janne?
"Sure, the music is, but binge drinking isn't."
"If you wanna tell him to stop, be my guest. But I promise you, he won't like it."
Alexi forces himself awake, peeling his eyes open. The lights are too bright, and he winces, covering his eyes with one slender arm. "...I won't like what?" Alexi asks groggily.
"Allugator!" Kim cries, scooping Alexi into an embrace. "Don't you ever scare me like that again," she says seriously, squeezing his small frame. Alexi chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek and sweeping her hair out of her face.
"Sorry. I'm…I'll do better, Kiki," he mumbles. His gaze lifts to see Janne, regarding him silently. "Hey," he greets softly.
"Hei, idiootti," Janne says. "What were you thinking? A whole bottle of tranquilizers? Did you want to die?"
"Janne," Kim growls warningly, but Alexi shakes his head, kissing her temple.
"Yeah, Janne," he admits quietly. "I did. But…" he hesitates, remembering…his dream. Somehow he knows it's true. Is that really how he'll go? What a sad, lonely end... "I think maybe…I need help. With everything."
Janne frowns, confusion on his features. "What's 'everything,' Allu? The drugs? Drinking? Cutting? The…the episodes?" he whispers, and Alexi tenses.
"You know?"
Kim's hand seeks out Alexi's, squeezing. She knows. How could she not, when they live together, share a bed, fuck? But…Janne? Alexi had taken pains to hide it from him and Henkka. They're too soft. They can't know.
"Yeah, I do," Janne mutters. "I…I wasn't sure what I saw so…I asked Jaska. He told me you have…psychotic episodes."
Alexi slumps. "Well." He smiles without humor. "Yeah. I'm fucking insane. Mom put me in the psych ward twice already." He swallows thickly, unwilling to linger on that thought right now. Alexi chances a glance at Kim, who gives him a sad smile. He squeezes her hand gently. "I wanna cut back on the booze and drugs," he admits. "I think…I think I'll be in a really bad place someday if I don't, y'know…and things are good now, I shouldn't be getting so fucked up…I have you and Kiki and the band…we're going places, you know? I'm not gonna fuck that all up."
Janne eyes Alexi strangely, and he bristles.
"What?"
"Just weird…you sound so mature, dude…it's not like you. Maybe you've gotten brain damage?" Janne cracks a grin, chuckling.
"Oh, fuck off," Alexi growls. "Damn, I want a cigarette…you give me a headache, Janne."
"There's my Allu," Janne chuckles, patting Alexi's back.