Their band was ending. Skwisgaar was in utter shock over the news; literally everything in his life was falling down around him. His best friend stopped talking to him completely, he was losing his band which had become like a family to him over the years, and even losing his home. He could find another band, there was always another band wanting the world's fastest guitar player, but he didn't want another band. He wanted this band; he wanted to go back to the days where they were happy. He wanted to go back to talking to one another, laughing, and fucking around. He didn't want this. He didn't want his world to end.
It took no time at all for him to figure out that nobody was there for him. Nathan was off with Knubbler working on a new project, a better project. Pickles was off trying to do something else entirely, and when Toki wasn't hanging around Murderface he was out with Magnus. Skwisgaar found himself going between Nathan and Pickles mostly, Toki wouldn't have a damn thing to do with him and in turn that meant Murderface was also giving him the silent treatment. He felt like shit about what had happened, things hadn't been right for a long time. Skwisgaar had hoped in a way they had been picking up the pieces; that they were working on mending what was left of their fucked up complicated relationship, but it seemed things were only getting worse. He had just been too wrapped up in himself, in distancing himself so as to not get hurt to notice that it was all going to crash and burn sooner than later.
Skwisgaar didn't deal with being alone well. It made him nervous and anxious; it made him think back to times when his mom left him alone far too many times. Even the strangers he brought into his bedroom to forget his friends were all abandoning on what they had worked so hard on couldn't distract him or ease the anxiety building up inside of him. He could tell nobody wanted this. Nobody wanted the band to end, nobody wanted to leave Mordhaus and go out into a world they forgot how to get along in. The five of them always relied on one another, but now they were killing that. He wanted to tell them how stupid and selfish this was, how selfish they all were being. Nobody wanted to talk, nobody wanted to listen. Normally he would just go to Toki, talk to him, and spend time with him. He knew this had to be fucking him up just as badly if not worse, but he couldn't confirm that. When they were in rooms together Toki would promptly get up and leave, when Skwisgaar would go to his room Toki would lock the door and wait for him to go away, and when he tried calling him he wouldn't answer.
Being alone was not something that Skwisgaar was fond of and having his four friends turn their backs on him and each other was killing him. Who knew how much worse it could get?
Before their final show he had dumbly allowed himself some semblance of hope that things would be okay again. That Nathan would suck it up and admit that he fucked up, that he was sorry. He knew Nathan felt bad, he could tell by the way he was acting. Nobody wanted to see the band end. Playing and knowing it was the last time filled him with a feeling of panic, he felt like his heart would burst through his chest at any minute. If there hadn't been thousands of people watching them then he would have burst into tears knowing this would be the last time he would ever play alongside his friends. His only friends. His family.
Then everything turned dark, almost as if they stepped into another dimension or a morbid horror film. He didn't remember much, just thinking it was a Hellish nightmare when that large demonic man like creature came. That thing with tendrils of white hair and black pouring from its gaping mouth. When the head of the record company was killed protecting them, saving their lives.
When they were in relative safety the looks on his friends faces told him that he wasn't the only one in shock about what had just taken place. The knowing look on Ofdensen's face as he led them underground into a large cave that seemed to host its own village worth of people told him there were a million things they needed to know. The feeling of being trapped inside of a terrible nightmare that made no sense at all didn't leave him. It stayed firmly planted in the forefront of his mind. He could only listen to the bearded old man as he talked about the church of the blackklok, about prophecies, and about how they were descendants of Gods. Skwisgaar could only think of dreams he'd had about warriors adorning white armor and wielding pristine blades. He could only think of dreams where he ran alongside white wolves that at some time in his past used to run after him, but now they were loyal to him. He thought of all the times he felt more than human, more than what his mother made him feel he was. He always figured it was self indulgent dreaming to think of himself as something beyond human, something better. Something important.
He was still shaken from all the death, from nearly dying, their final show, and the death of the head of the record label. There were too many thoughts rushing around his head to the point he felt he could vomit. Not having his guitar with him was driving him crazy, his fingers felt numb. He could hear talking, but he didn't take in all of it; he was too busy in his own mind. The only thing that brought him back remotely was when the talking stopped and when he felt fingers brush against his own. He looked down at his hand, at the shorter fingers caressing his knuckles then up into ice blue eyes. Toki didn't say anything, he just looked at him reflecting the confusion and fear Skwisgaar was feeling. He expected to be kissed, forgiven, but it never happened. Toki walked away and the blond haired man promptly followed him. Everybody was silent, somehow more silent than they had been before. Nobody was in the mood for talking; there was too much to process. When he chanced glances at Nathan he could tell that the front man knew something. By the concentrated look on his face, the fear in his green eyes Skwisgaar could tell he knew a lot, but he wouldn't talk about it.
Skwisgaar could scream at them, at everybody. He was sick of nobody talking, he was sick of people knowing things, but never sharing. He was reeling from the fact the world was ending, they were nearly killed by some Godless Man, they were part of a prophecy, and even after all of that their band was still ending. He could only wonder what now.
It wasn't until they got back to Mordhaus did he figure out what now.
The vodka went nicely with the meth that he kept stashed beneath his bed for times like these.