It finally happened. His father was really dead. He used to think that his father's death would be the best thing that could happen to him, revenge for what he was put through as a child... and yet, he found himself haunted. Even in death, his old man found ways to torment him. It pained him to think about the events, so he refused to. That's how it would work... right?
The long day had finally taken a toll on Toki Wartooth, leaving him to wait for some sort of deep, comforting sleep. There were bags under his bloodshot eyes, and if he had black smudges on his face, his skin could easily be mistaken for corpse paint. Of course, the rest of the band noticed this, but there were strong barriers preventing them from speaking up. For one, it wasn't metal to worry about fellow band members. Also, they had all agreed to never show interest, care or intervene in band mates' personal lives.
Sure, Toki was technically considered the little brother of Dethklok, but that wouldn't cause anyone to come forth (especially in front of everyone else) to help. Maybe that was what was really hurting Toki. If it weren't for Charles, he wouldn't have had anyone with him that day. It was as if they really didn't give a shit about what happened to the rhythm guitarist, and that was like kicking a puppy with a broken leg. Well, a wolf. Toki was no puppy. Or, at least, that's what he thought.
Eventually, without realizing it, his eyes began to get heavier and heavier until they closed, opening the doorway to whatever dream awaited him. Or in this case... well, I'll let you decide.
The snowflakes falling from the sky seemed too sharp not to be able to stab something. It had been the second night that young Toki was left out in the cold for talking about guitars and how he wanted one for his birthday. The only presents he ever got had something to do with religion, but now he actually had his sights set on getting an actual present. Just an acoustic guitar so he could play music, something to use as an escape. Maybe, if he played good enough, he'd actually get out of this awful place.
He would usually be left outside for a mere day and night when speaking about his parents buying anything that wasn't the bible, but this time, he had spoken against them. Mostly, his father. That had earned an unbelievable beating. The 13 year old boy had a swollen face and bloody whip marks on his back that would definitely leave scars. Weren't parents supposed to give their children hugs and kisses instead of punches and whips? Weren't they supposed to make their children do chores instead of sleep out in the snow? He couldn't tell for sure. He never came in contact with any other parents.
The wind began to make a soft howling noise as the snow began falling hard enough to hurt. Well, at least, that's what he thought it would do. Toki couldn't tell. He was numb from the cold. The sky was luminous and black. It was menacing, and for a second, the boy wondered if he was really going to be struck by God's wrath for his sins. It sure as hell seemed like it! To get away from the dangerous weather, he began running. Where? He couldn't tell, but anywhere was better than there.
As he kept running through the thickness of the snow, his numb and tingling legs began to strain and burn. His surroundings began twisting and contorting into visions of blackness and demons, malevolent eyes watching over him... waiting for something. His heart beat was so fast, it felt like his rib cage was going to explode. And then, just as he turned around to look at the devil who had been following him through the snow...
The fully grown Toki Wartooth, rhythm guitarist for the biggest death metal band in history, was woken up by the sound of his own screaming. Being scared out of his wits, he spoke in his native tongue. "Han kan ikke få mig, han kan ikke få mig ... han er død nå ... han kan ikke få mig." His chest heaved as he sat up, running a clammy hand through his hair. Maybe he hadn't forgiven his father completely. Either that, or he was still scared shitless of him. Probably the latter.
The only option left for some kind of comfort was to seek out one of his fellow band mates to help him fall asleep. Murderface and Skwisgaar were out of the question for several obvious reasons. Pickles and Nathan were the only people who wouldn't laugh in his face or call him "gay" (though he didn't have a clue what emotions had to do with one's sexuality). The first person he'd go to was Pickles. If anything, he should understand.
Heading to Pickles' room as quietly as possible, Toki ever-so-slowly opened the door, only to be greeted by a drunken drummer mumbling something in his sleep. Okay, so maybe it wasn't such a great option. The only other person he could count on was Nathan, and Toki crossed his fingers that he was awake, because nobody who wants to keep their skin attached to their bodies would attempt to disturb the front man's slumber. It was like jumping in front of a lion wearing a raw steak on a rope around your neck.
Blue silk pajamas and all, the guitarist headed down the hallway in the direction of Nathan's room. Each step seemed like it took forever, but he eventually found himself standing in front of the door. Valuing his life, he checked to see if a light shone through from under it. Thank the gods that there was, because now was not the time to commit suicide. A few light knocks and the door was opened, revealing the vocalist in a pair of black boxers. He seemed just a bit tired from the day's events. "Toki? What do you want? It's, like, 3 AM." The Norwegian gave an inaudible sigh of relief, glad that the other wasn't in a bad mood.
"Uh, wells..." The idea of seeking comfort from Nathan suddenly seemed utterly ridiculous. It would've helped if the realization happened before he knocked on the door. "I just.. wants to hang out..." It sounded more like a question as he spoke. Obviously, Nathan wasn't buying it. "You had another nightmare, didn't you?" Did I mention that this has happened before?
A small nod was given as a reply. If it was anyone else, the frontman would've told them to beat it so he could get some sleep, but he knew what had happened to Toki in the past, and he didn't need an insomniac as a rhythm guitarist. "Alright, get in. Don't expect me to be, uh... motherly or some shit." Just grateful for someone to talk to, he eagerly walked inside the room and closed the door.
It was silent for some time until Toki spoke up. "Hey Nat'ens?" That earned a grumble in response. "Dos you thinks that I'm a bad guy?" Well, that was definitely unexpected. "-mumble- Not really." Silence again. Maybe he didn't feel like talking as much as last time? Nathan sure as hell was avoiding him lately. Nobody else seemed to notice. It made him curious. "Then why don'ts you likes me?" It might've just been him, but it seemed like the other tensed up for a moment.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Well, that was a lie. "Yous been avoidings me." It was surprising that Toki was the first band member to actually point it out. "No, I haven't." Not seeing the point in arguing with someone who just let him into their room at 3 AM because of a nightmare, he remained quiet as he leaned against the wall. The more time went by, the more the Norwegian's sadness became noticeable. It was all too obvious that he was upset from his inner turmoil.
"Look..." Sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose, Nathan attempted to make things at least a bit more tolerable. "This is probably about as non-metal as I'm going to get... ah, fuck it. We care about you, okay? It's just easier not to show it. Apparently you're the only one who can't get that through their head. If anything, you're probably the one everybody worries about the most. I'm not used to these situations, so don't expect me to make everything go away, alright?" It took a bit of silence for the rhythm guitarist to even realize what was just said to him. It touched his heart. He knew it wasn't brutal or metal for his band mates to care about him, but it felt amazing to know that they did.
Even though there were signs of discomfort by it, Toki stayed hugging him as long as possible. There really weren't any words to correctly describe how he was feeling in English, so he kept quiet, clinging to the man like there was no tomorrow.
"... Toki?" "Ja?" "You're crushing my spine."