Toki was slowly going crazy, he was sure of it.

He remained out of dodge for several days, not chancing to leave his room even to eat. He had Klokateers bring his meals from the kitchen, pretended he wasn't there if someone were to knock on his door, and spent all of his time compulsively assembling model planes. He put his guitar away in the back of his closet. He couldn't even look at it anymore without being reminded of Skwisgaar and what the Swede had done to ascend from the position he currently held in the band.

How long could he live like this? How long could he hide until he was needed for band practice or recording? How long until Skwisgaar needed to teach him guitar lines? Oh God, what if he fucked them up badly enough that Skwisgaar felt the need to do something about it? Were his fears justified? He didn't know.

Toki had been scared a lot in the time that he lived at Mordhaus. Sometimes he had nightmares that would lead him to not sleep for days. He'd witnessed more death than he'd ever cared to see. He understood how easily death could come, how quickly life could be taken away. When it came to other people he could be indifferent, but his own? He feared for it. He legitimately feared that one day, perhaps soon, it would be seized from him.

It had crossed his mind a few times that he should quit. Or, that it was at least an option. On the nights where he let his mind get really carried away, he would seriously consider it. He seriously considered telling Offdensen that he would be packing his bare essentials and going to—actually, he had no idea where he would go. That was what always got him in the end. He couldn't go back home and he sure as hell would never make it on his own anywhere else. He had no idea how to survive without servants and chefs and band managers and even bandmates if they were willing to host his company.

The sheer frustration that Toki felt at his situation had left him nearly in tears a few times as he sat in his darkened room and waited for the sun to rise and begin another lonely day for him. What the fuck could he do? He couldn't quit, he couldn't hide. . .

It was while he waited for a Hood to bring him his breakfast that an idea for a solution birthed itself in Toki's mind. Then, he discarded it. He didn't have the courage, or, he couldn't find it, anyway. Not now. He was much too afraid.

The more days that passed though, the more that thought made itself known. Could it really hurt to do, after all? He was much stronger than Skwisgaar and if the Swede tried anything when he confronted him about all that he knew he could hold him off. Sometimes Toki wondered if he had worked himself up about what the potential outcome for all of this could be. It had to have been two weeks by now since he'd learned that Skwisgaar wore the belt of the man he killed. He had to know. He needed to know if his personal safety was actually at risk. He needed to know if Skwisgaar had actually been serious with his threat or if he was bluffing. He needed to know whether his fears were valid or not.

The evening that he decided he would make the short trip from his room to Skwisgaar's was accompanied with utmost nerves. He took deep breaths, trying to calm himself, but however efficient he was there always seemed to be a little jitter to his composure. Eventually, he just decided to get this over with.

He crept out of his room, glancing around surreptitiously. There were a few Klokateers wandering the halls, but that was all he saw. Clutching his arms to his middle, he began towards the Swede's door. The metronome was going, strings twanging.

Toki sighed. He raised his hand a few times to knock, but always lost heart right as his knuckles were about to meet the door. He ended up leaning against the wall for some time, trying to work himself up to it. It was a rather erratic movement when he finally told himself to just do it without thinking and get himself in there.

He waited, heart pounding in his chest. There was a shift of movement inside, and then the metronome came to a stop. "Ja?"

"Skwisgaar, is Toki." The Norwegian swallowed haphazardly. "Cans I come in fors a minute?"

There was a pause as Skwisgaar considered it. Toki wondered what exactly he was thinking about, but gave his head a shake before it could settle on the spectrum of thoughts he'd been entertaining since the last time he learned those disturbing things about the blond.

"Ja. Sures. I's'll just puts my guitar and de bands aside for you, Toki. Dats am how nice I ams."

Toki actually had to fight not to roll his eyes at that. A good portion of his fear was eclipsed by the annoyance Skwisgaar so often made him feel. He hadn't forgotten the other things Skwisgaar said on the Dethkopter about his selfishness, and it seemed that the Swede was still on about how he hadn't reached out to him.

That of course linked to what Toki had concerned himself with instead of Skwisgaar's emotional well being. Upon remembering that, Toki's annoyance abated and his nerves resurfaced. He let himself in, poking his head through the door before actually admitting his body to the Swede's room. He'd been somewhat paranoid that Skwisgaar was maybe waiting right there for him to. . .decapitate him with an ax or something, but he could breathe a little easier when he saw that the blond was still sitting on the edge of his bed, back to him.

Skwisgaar was practicing again, this time without his metronome. Toki cocked his head as he regarded the Swede. It was kind of weird that Skwisgaar knew nothing of the turmoil he'd been putting himself through for the past few weeks and that he probably didn't even know that Toki knew what he'd done.

Besides all that, everything was. . .normal between them. Skwisgaar was ignoring him in favor of his guitar, probably growing annoyed that some pesky little crybaby dildo was just standing in his room while he was trying to do something. That much was apparently when Skwisgaar spoke again.

"Whats you want? I don'ts got all days, you know!"

Toki decided that pleasantries weren't much of an option or an appeal here. His response was blunt as a result. "You killeds someone."

Much akin to how suddenly Skwisgaar had stopped playing in light of insult on the Dethkopter, the Swede became still. "So? You has too. Everysone in dis band has. Ams no bigs deal."

"This ams different, Skwisgaar." Toki furrowed his brow and crossed his arms, feeling more courageous now that he was here and he hadn't yet been threatened or attacked in any way, spare the usual. "This was a guitarist."

Skwisgaar was silent. Toki watched him with a scrutinizing eye, then cocked his head with parted lips when he saw the Swede's shoulders beginning to shake. He—he wasn't. . .crying, was he?

Toki found himself to have guessed too soon, for when Skwisgaar looked back at him over his shoulder, there weren't tears on his face but laughter. "Whats, little Toki? Ams you scared? T'inks dat I's goingks to comes to your rooms in de night and stands over you wit' a baseballs bat and hits you untils you nots movingks or breat'ingks no mores? Pfffffft.

"It was am selfs-defense. I hads to does it so dats I coulds live and makes Det'klok de best bands in de world. Easies to understand as pies," Skwisgaar continued with a shrug. He turned back to his guitar, fingers starting up again. "No wonders you wouldn'ts get dat."

Toki frowned. He wouldn't have it that he be talked down to and especially not now. "Skwisgaar, I's not that stupids. I talks to Nathans. I talks to Pickle. I knows what you did. You killeds Magnus to takes his place in the band and you evens kept his belt. You's wearing it rights now!"

Once again, Skwisgaar's playing came to a slow. He sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. "Ja. Okays. I admits dat. Magnus was a fuckingks dick. He hads it coming. I t'oughts about doing dat a lots to him, but I nevers t'ought dat I acksly woulds. Happies?"

Toki blinked. "You t'oughts about killings him? Alls de times?"

Skwisgaar shrugged. "Pffft, you tells me one person whats you hasn't t'oughts about killingks at least once whats gets on yous nerves and ams a big. . ." He trailed off, sneering.

"He was am means to you," Toki finished for him with a small nod. "I hears about dat froms Pickle. He was ams to you like you ams to me."

Toki pondered it first, but then moved closer and sat down on Skwisgaar's bed. He kept a reasonable distance between them. "Skwisgaar, I thinks about this for a longs time. I reallies don't know what to think. You confuses me a lots anyways, but now I's really confused. I hear all these thing abouts you, but when I comes here to ask you acts like it's no big deal. Why?"

Skwisgaar sighed again, the same sigh he always gave Toki when some monumental responsibility regarding the Norwegian was shoved onto his shoulders. "What, sos you has heard from Nat'an dats I killeds de dildo and den you hears t'ing from Pickle? Pickle don'ts know. Was am betweens Nat'an, Offdensens, and me."

"No, I knows that Pickle don'ts know. He told me thing abouts how you acteds after. Didn'ts seem like no selfs-defense," Toki maintained, arms crossed again. "He tolds me that you wores white befores you did that, now you wears black. You wears Magnus' belt."

"So whats if I do?" Skwisgaar asked impatiently. "What does you even wants, Toki? You knows dat I killeds a guy, whats else you wants? A 'be ables to knows t'ing' awards?"

Toki chewed on the inside of his cheek. He knew it was a long shot, but. . . "Tells me what happens. I still don't believe that it was self-defense. I thinks you did it completesly on purpose."

Skwisgaar huffed and gave Toki a long look. "Okays. I tells you. Dens will you goes away?"

Toki nodded. However this story went determined just how he would be 'going away.'

"Okays. So. I's was wit' Magnus downs in de basements of de old house what's we all used to lives in before Mordhaus," Skwisgaar began rather casually, plucking at his guitar again. "Magnus hads t'ing to shows me, but I hads heard him writings dem befores and t'oughts dey were dildos so I takes whats he writes and makes dem betters. He didn'ts like dat veries much. He starts yelling and den I starts yelling and I hits him wit' my guitars and den he. . ."

Skwisgaar trailed off as he remembered. Magnus had not been impressed at being hit by the Explorer. The Swede recalled the fear, the way his breath seemed to stay in his throat as Magnus got up from the sprawled position he'd put him in on the floor. The hatred in his eyes, the snarl he emitted as he began to pull his belt from his pants. The way he looked at him as he looped it in his hand, ready to use against him.

Skwisgaar backed slowly towards the stairs. He knew that Nathan was still home, perhaps if he got up there fast enough and put the frontman between them, he wouldn't be injured. He'd been on the receiving end of that skull before, and he knew how badly Magnus could make him hurt.

With another snarl, Magnus darted towards the Swede. He'd always been faster, and Skwisgaar knew he shouldn't have hesitated in running up to the main floor. He felt a pit in his stomach form when a hand tightened around his upper arm, cringing as well. His balance was offset as he was pulled back, sending him to the floor. He clenched his eyes shut as pain touched various places on his body with contact to concrete. He forced them open when he heard Magnus moving closer, managing to garner enough reflex to put his arms in front of his face when the other guitarist brought his belt down on him the first time. He cried out as an intense sting erupted on his left forearm, clenching his eyes again. He could already feel tears of pain welling behind them, adrenaline for his very survival beginning to pump through his blood. The belt came down a second time, then a third. The intention behind it hurt worse, hit Skwisgaar harder. He couldn't take this lying down. It wasn't an option.

One thing Skwisgaar had over Magnus was height. The lashing had caused Skwisgaar to curl into the fetal position for protection, but Magnus was close enough that when Skwisgaar kicked out, he hit him. Skwisgaar wasn't sure where he'd hit the other man, but there was a yell, the sound of leather hitting the floor next to him, and then finally another body following. Skwisgaar sat up, scrambling back away from Magnus, chest heaving. From what he could see, he'd kicked Magnus in the knee, causing it to bend the other way. The man was rolling on the floor clutching said joint, swearing and cursing Skwisgaar between labored breaths.

Skwisgaar studied him, fear still prominent in him. He knew he'd taken it too far. He knew that once Magnus recovered and found him on his own again. . .

Wincing, Skwisgaar put weight on his arms as he crawled towards the discarded belt. His heart pounded in his chest as he took it up and moved closer towards Magnus. He knew what he had to do. It was either him or Magnus, and since it boiled down to his choice. . .

"The fuck're you doing?" Magnus asked through clenched teeth, regarding the wide-eyed Swede.

Skwisgaar sneered as he brought the belt down against Magnus' cheek. He had no intention of returning the favor of agony that the lead guitarist had given him, he just needed to throw him off. It worked. In the lull of Magnus' defenses, Skwisgaar got the struggling man onto his stomach and climbed atop his back, digging his bony knees into Magnus' ribs. Before he could be thrown off, Skwisgaar wrapped the ends of the belt tightly around his hands and then looped it over and around Magnus' neck.

The other man struggled even more, but Skwisgaar wouldn't have it. He moved further up Magnus, his knee finding the back of his head to hold it in place. He was unrelenting as flailing limbs found him, the adrenaline pumping far too hard for it to even register that the person whose life he was slowly draining away was fighting back.

Magnus slowly lost his enthusiasm, then, altogether. Skwisgaar remained on top of him, grip on the belt slackening and breath coming in pants. His mind couldn't register what he'd just done, but the severity of the situation was beginning to make itself known to him. He let go of the belt and climbed off the dead guitarist, flinching when the stinging in his arms returned to his stream of awareness.

He didn't bother to look back at the body before ascending the stairs to tell Nathan what he'd done and ask for his help.

Silence descended between Toki and Skwisgaar when the Swede finished his story. Skwisgaar was solemn as he stared at his metronome, Toki contemplative. He definitely felt as though he better understood the situation, but there was still one more thing that remained unanswered.

"Has you ever thoughts about doing that to me?"

Skwisgaar blinked a few times, then looked over at the Norwegian. He scoffed. "Pfft, ams like what's I said. You names one person to me whats you youself hasn't t'oughts abouts killing."

"So that ams a yes."

Skwisgaar tilted his head this way and that before eventually nodded. "Ja."

Toki took a deep breath. Okay. Once again, he found himself at odds. Skwisgaar did have a very good point about trying to find someone that he himself hadn't thought about doing away with, and if probed Toki would admit that Skwisgaar was definitely the person that crossed his mind more than anyone else.

"Woulds you?" he whispered.

Skwisgaar became still again, brow furrowed. He blinked, glancing over at the Norwegian. He hadn't thought that when Toki came to his room that this was an actual concern of the younger man's. "Noes."

"I don'ts believe you," Toki said right away.

Skwisgaar rolled his eyes and turned to face Toki more on the bed with a huff. "It don'ts matter if you does or nots. I wouldn'ts. Dat's me tellingks you dat."

Toki wouldn't be deterred by such a thing as Skwisgaar telling him just to trust him on it. "Oh, reallies? Nots even if I gots to bes de lead guitarist of Det'klok, I gots to plays better den yous, and whats if whens you had comes back from Sweden I was de one dat treats you likes a dick and makes you learn de riddim parts of de music whats I write for de bands?"

He didn't care if he was possibly egging Skwisgaar on. Toki had to know. He wouldn't be satisfied when he left here without these answers. He wanted to know if his personal safety was at risk at all when bringing the Swede into consideration.

Skwisgaar gave Toki a look of annoyance. "Pfft, likes Nat'an would lets dat happen."

"Ams a hypotheticals. Answer the question."

Skwisgaar pursed his lips, considering it over. "Noes. I wouldn'ts. I tolds you dat. I knows you ams stupids, but not so stupids dat I shouldn'ts has to tells you twice."

"Tells me why you wouldn'ts." Now, Toki was growing curious. He felt much calmer than he had when he first arrived in Skwisgaar's room, something that was a relief to him. He knew for sure he wouldn't be leaving Mordhaus or Dethklok, now.

Skwisgaar's brow was furrowed again. This was what he'd had difficulty with, himself. "I. . .I don'ts reallies know, ackslies. Alls dat I knows is dat ifs you and I's ever gots into what's Magnus and I dids dat day and I hads de chance. . .I wouldn'ts. I wouldn'ts be ables to does it. Somet'ings would, how's you say? Stays my hand."

Toki couldn't hide his surprise when he earned an actual earnest look from the other man before he lapsed back into playing his guitar. He blinked a few times, standing slowly. "O—okays, Skwisgaar."

Toki left Skwisgaar's room with that. He was even more confused now than he had been when this entire thing began. He knew there was something that Skwisgaar wasn't telling him, whether by choice or ability, he didn't know.

The first that came to his mind was the issue of strength. He knew from past experience that any physical confrontation between he and Skwisgaar always ended with him as the victor. He thought of Skwisgaar's tale. Maybe Skwisgaar worried that since he was the lead guitarist and he made a move of aggression towards him that history would repeat itself and the rhythm guitarist would come out on top? That was entirely plausible.

. . .But not satisfying. That could perhaps be a factor, but it definitely wasn't a sole answer. Wouldn't Skwisgaar have at least said that he was scared of Toki when they were talking, if that were the case? No, Skwisgaar was much too proud for that. However, he had admitted how scared he was of Magnus, when he thought himself on the brink of death. . .though, it was much different to speak of something from the past and of a different person than it was in the present and to that someone's face.

Toki furrowed his brow as he recalled the brief glimpses of emotion he'd gotten from the other man. That look he got in the bedroom. How. . .well, hurt Skwisgaar had seemed when yelling at him on the Dethkopter. Could. . .? No. Toki shook his head. Skwisgaar had admitted to thinking about killing him on various occasions. There was no room for that. Though. . .was it any different when he did the same? When he bounced back and forth so rapidly between hate and an admiration of the blond guitarist? Did Skwisgaar do the same? He couldn't, though. What did Skwisgaar have to admire in him?

Perhaps Skwisgaar just saw a little too much of himself in Toki? That made sense to the Norwegian after all that he'd just heard, had already drawn parallels in that regard anyway, and yet. . .it made things all the more complicated. Did Skwisgaar foresee or expect Toki to follow a similar path that he did, in doing what he had to do to gain what he wanted? Skwisgaar knew that wasn't possible, though. Nathan would never allow for it and besides, they all knew, Toki included, that he didn't possess near the amount of skill or talent that Skwisgaar did. He supposed that as long as that remained true, a natural balance was established.

Toki returned to his room, finding that he was finally able to breathe again. He lay down on his bed, considering a nap. He hadn't been sleeping all that well with all that on his mind. He undressed and pulled back the covers, turning off his lamp when he was in and comfortable. As he drifted off, his mind kept wandering back to the Swede. That look he'd gotten. . .anything of such magnitude from Skwisgaar was significant, that was to be sure.

He tried to push it though, reminding himself that any such hope of that regard really ought not to be entertained.