Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Skwisgaar always appreciated the finer things in life and that applied to personal cleanliness as well. He had always loved the smell of cleanliness. Rich pine scents of wood polish, floral smelling linens from laundry, heavy perfumes that clung to him in a chaotic symphony of smell. Staying day in and day out in a hospital made him reconsider that. Hospitals reeked of cleanliness. A chemical nothingness that permeated every aspect of his being at this point. It made him want to lay down in the dirt and inhale it as deeply as he could. Earth and dirt and fresh air. But he just sat.

All he could do was sit.

Sometimes, his brain would find music in nothing to occupy itself. The start of a drum pattern in a heart rate monitor, a rhythm section in the approaching footsteps of a nurse. The hustle and bustle of everything around him sweeping orchestral pieces while the quiet in the room he stayed in was a gentle solo. Maybe acoustic. But the thought of music, of playing, of anything of the sort ever again made him feel sick with guilt. So all he could do was sit and listen to the machinery instead. Even bringing a guitar to quietly fret on felt inappropriate, so Skwisgaar’s nervous energy was transferred to the jiggling of his leg, pacing and chewing manicured nails until they bled.

He sat.

There were certain days that he couldn’t even look at the form in the bed in front of him, eyes cast to the floor as he thought. It was his fault, wasn’t it? Well, technically it was everyone’s fault. But it felt like his fault most of all. He had put it into words years ago - when Toki had started hanging out with the goddamn clown.

- - -

“You don’ts haves to overscompensates, alright? We pays more attentions to you!”

- - -

But they didn’t. Toki had always been kind of easy to forget. He was quiet, and sweet, and put up with all of their shit better than any of the other guys in the band did. Offdensen had said he had the patience of Job. Skwisgaar was less inclined to agree that Toki was patient. He would just sit and bide his time until the most opportune moment to have a tantrum. Or perhaps it was when the rest of the band took things too far and it ended with Toki in an argument or in the throes of a mental breakdown. Drunk and belligerent on the roof of Mordhaus, yelling for attention. Some of the few times that he ever got attention was when he was drunk.

There were faint, sleepy memories that Skwisgaar had. Waking up to a drunk guitarist in his face, poking him tauntingly in the chest, talking about how everyone paid attention to him and how he was so special. He remembered pushing the shadow off and telling him to fuck off. If he had a problem, get better at playing. It had happened twice. Once in a hotel in Amsterdam on tour. Once in a mostly forgotten Florida apartment. That had been part of the problem, too, and was part of the cause for Toki’s current suffering. Skwisgaar had simply forgotten.

Toki was always easy to forget.

When things were bubbling, threatening to boil over, before the album got smashed and the band broke up, Toki slipped away. Fell through the cracks of life too easily. He talked of being isolated, of being lonely, of having to go and seek new friends. The idea to go to that goddamn camp had sprung into his head, and Toki went, and Skwisgaar was glad to have a moment’s peace but then the only friend Toki had made was-

The shiver that ran through Skwisgaar’s spine interrupted his thoughts. A gentle pump of the breaks before he started to dwell too much. The hospital was colder than he expected and he found himself bundled in a jacket in that uncomfortable chair more than he expected.

The others visited. Sometimes Skwisgaar wasn’t sure if it was because they were checking on Toki or him.

“You been eating?” Nathan asked him once, pulling up a chair next to him.

“Yeah,” Skwisgaar nodded. He rubbed the palms of his hands together to create friction and heat. He looked over to see a few plastic containers in Nathan’s hands. “What ams thats?”

“Uh, barbeque,” the singer shrugged casually as he handed it to Skwisgaar. “Pork, beans, mashed potatoes, coleslaw. Figured you were...uhhhhh...tired of...hospital cafeteria shit...y’know?”

Skwisgaar took them in his hands. They were still warm and he watched a few beads of condensation trickle down the sides. There was a faint smell and it made him hungry and feel guilty at the same time. Toki was on a feeding tube and fluids. Because of them.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Pickles had soothed, a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not your fault at all, man, he-”

“It ams all our faults,” replied Skwisgaar coldly. “We didn’t sees it.”

- - -

“Skwisgaar?”

He looked up from his fretting, makeshift guitar tablature laying around him in scattered piles, some crumbled and forgotten. He was in the middle of something great. He always was.

“Do you wants to go sees that new movies we talkeds about going to sees? Fridays, maybe?”

He checked his phone. A full day. A mostly full day. Not a very full day at all.

“Ah, Toki, I can’ts. I has a things with Nathan goings on, he gots that new solo albums he’s workings on…”

“Oh. Uh, that’s okays! I thinks I might go sees it with someones else. Is that okays?”

“Who?”

Toki had avoided saying who, but Skwisgaar knew, and didn’t say anything.

- - -

“We chose not to sees it,” he corrected himself.

“Toki’s an adult, we couldn’t sit and baby him and make him pick and choose his friends,” Pickles’ voice was defensive, the same guilt and knowledge that he had fucked up rippling around the edges of his words.

“We knew!” Skwisgaar turned to look at him as he spoke. They had all known. “We was more concerneds when he was palling around with the clowns because we was annoyeds! But we knew.”

They had told Toki before anything had happened. An answer from Nathan to Toki’s question when he saw him changing shirts, when he saw a raised scar on his shoulder. But Toki in his forgetfulness had, well, forgotten. They had tried to refresh his memory at the discovery of Toki’s new friend - Skwisgaar’s mind trying to dance around the name.

The stubbornness kicked in next, refusing to believe that an old frail man was a source of danger, and they finally threw their hands up in frustration. Left Toki to his own devices and deal with the consequences of his choices. How bad could it be, really?

When Skwisgaar slept, he saw a hand reaching out to him across a chasm.

- - -

“STAY NEXT TO ME!”

- - -

He saw two crosses hanging from chains.

- - -

“Toki? Stays with mes!”

- - -

He hadn’t had a peaceful night's sleep in four weeks.

“He’ll be okay, right?” Murderface asked quietly, sitting on the opposite side of the bed. Like they were holding council over the body between them. The person, not body. He wasn't an empty shell just yet.

“Doctors says that he’s gots a goods chance,” Skwisgaar replied. “Just...needs to gets him feds, hydrateds, that stuffs. But he mights…”

There was a pause. Skwisgaar swiped his hand over his face to try and collect himself. There had been a lot of things the doctors had said about what might happen to Toki. Some of them good, some of them okay and plenty of them very, very bad. He had a lot of grim prospects ahead of him.

“He mights not,” Skwisgaar said finally.

“He’ll be okay,” mumbled Murderface. “He’s gotta be, you know?”

Skwisgaar wasn’t so sure. There wasn’t a guarantee of recovery after everything Toki had gone through. What they had sat by and let happen. Because it was one thing for them to pretend that Toki hanging out with his new friend was fine and normal. They had fooled themselves into thinking he would be safe with klokateers and watchful eyes. They had fooled themselves into believing what Toki had said - ten years was a long time, his new pal was chill and different. But after everything happened, what did they do?

Sat around. Partied. Pretended it didn’t happen. Pretended Toki wasn’t rotting away.

Of course, Charles worked hard. Others worked hard. Did their dirty work to find their fucking friend when they were destined to be the ones to find him. When Ishnifus was practically on bent knee begging for them to care. Skwisgaar had tried to justify it at first because after all, how many times had Charles cleaned up their messes? Offended a country, Charles fixed it. Do something catastrophic with money, Charles fixed it. Let Toki hang out with the guy who literally stabbed one of them in the back and then it blew up in their faces because Toki was suddenly kidnapped? Surely Charles would fix that too. And he had in his own way.

Skwisgaar had tried to justify it because sitting down and thinking and worrying was too painful. It was easier to soak his brain, drug out the numbness and sadness, but even then he thought of how badly they fucked up. How badly he missed Toki. How he woke up in his room hungover more times than he ever cared to admit, more times than any of the other guys had caught him. It had felt as if something had been removed from his body. An open wound that bled and festered and rendered his very existence useless.

And every time there was a change in Toki’s condition, a new prognosis, a change in his heart rate, a possibility he wasn’t going to wake up or see or have cognitive abilities or play guitar again, there was always that question laying in the back of Skwisgaar’s head.

If they hadn’t waited so long, would he be better by now?

“He’s awake,” Nathan had said one of the few times Skwisgaar hadn’t been lurking in Toki’s room like a shadow. “You wanna see him?”

“Uh…” was all he could manage at first. “I...maybes in a bits.”

Nathan gave him an odd look but shrugged helplessly before going with the others. And Skwisgaar’s in a bit turned into tomorrow which turned into next week. He had agonized over this day, of seeing Toki awake no matter how he woke up, had begged and pleaded and prayed with whatever would hear him for it to happen. And when it happened, Skwisgaar in his shame couldn’t stand to see him.

“He’s askin’ for you, man,” Pickles said softly, lingering at the doorway of his bedroom. “You should, like, go see him.”

Skwisgaar’s unplugged, frantic fretting was all he could respond with at first. He paused before turning his gaze up at Pickles with a sad look.

“You knows we lets it happen, right?” he asked.

“Not this again-” he huffed in frustration.

“Yes, this agains! We lets it happen!” Skwisgaar snapped. “I can’ts...I can’ts sees him. It hurts. Does you not feels it too?”

“It does, but he’s...he’s not mad. He’s been really sad since he figured out you’re not comin’ to see him,” Pickles crossed his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes. “Like, do you not understand? He’s okay.”

That still wasn’t enough to hear. What they had done was unforgivable. He was okay, but would he want to see Skwisgaar ever again?

“You’re being selfish,” Nathan chimed in during one of those arguments. “We’ve all been over it with him.”

“He’s not mad. He misses you, man,” Pickles pleaded.

“Just...gives me a bit longers, okays?! Is that’s so hards?!” Skwisgaar went to shut his door, to lock it, to shut them up for five goddamn minutes.

“You’re doing it again,” said Nathan in a flat tone. “You’ve been giving us all grief over not seeing things, sitting by and letting shit happen, ignoring it. And you’re the worst one of us right now.”

“Shuts up!” he yelled in reply, slamming the door in their face.

This was different. Skwisgaar wasn’t sure how but it was different. Maybe because the guilt of Skwisgaar sitting uselessly and letting everything happen made the idea of looking at Toki impossible. Maybe it would be easier to sit by and do nothing as Toki recovered, give him the space and time he needed, as penance for sitting and doing nothing as Toki rotted away in a basement. No matter how badly he wanted to see him and hear his voice again. As badly as he wanted to beg for forgiveness and tell Toki he was so sorry. Tell Toki how badly he was missed. How Skwisgaar felt lost and hopeless and lonely without him.

It had taken far, far too long to figure out. Emotions he deemed himself unworthy of receiving and incapable of feeling. Emotions that were shelved and replaced with haughtiness and teasing and a drive to push Toki to be the best he could. The emotions that still coiled in his stomach like snakes ready to strike at any moment, the ones that had sparked jealousy more than worry when Toki sat so far away at the funeral. Things better left unsaid for fear of ruining countless moments.

God, he loved him and it was too late to say anything. His unforgivable apathy made sure of it.

So he drank again. It was the easiest thing for him to do in the long run. He couldn’t be dragged down to see Toki if he was too drunk to stand, if he was passed out, if he was sick. Skwisgaar found himself downing bottles of spirits and wine and beer. Chased or mixed with whatever he could get his hands on. It was the easiest thing for him to do. It always had been. Even when he chastised Toki for his heavy drinking, hypocrite that he was, he was just a quieter drunk. Reclusive and prone to sitting in corners and staring off into the middle distance. But Toki had always tracked him down and stood next to him.

Toki wasn’t there to do that anymore. No playful little jabs of his elbow to get Skwisgaar to smile, or roll his eyes, whichever mood struck him first. The other three had tried and failed to get Skwisgaar to cooperate so they left him to his own devices. Another way to repent - he was the one who needed help but he was ignored by the band. But he was fine with that. It was better this way, wasn’t it?

It was three in the morning when Skwisgaar finally decided to see him. It was a drunken whim and he could feel the gin and zinfandel pilot his legs to the hospital nestled deep inside of Mordhaus. A siren song written by mourning for something not quite dead. Klokateers sparsely roamed the halls of the little hospital and he paused for a brief moment to stare at a sign that pointed towards the morgue. A morbid thought crossed his mind. Is that where they had put...him? He hoped not. He hoped that he had been thrown into a ditch somewhere, left for vultures. Left to rot like Toki had been.

“He’s asleep,” a hooded nurse said softly as he approached the door to Toki’s room.

There was less machinery surrounding Toki’s bed now. Less monitors and an IV drip. He lay there asleep with a plush bear clutched in his arms. He looked peaceful. And alive. Looking alive was the most important part. The pink flush of his skin had returned, previously a deathly grey. While the muscles that had wasted away were still gone, the hollow gauntness of his face had been eased with him gaining more weight. A patch of gauze rested over his left eye to let it heal. He hadn’t recovered fully. Not out of the woods as a doctor had put it. But Skwisgaar found comfort in the realization that he was okay. Because for now, Toki lived.

Skwisgaar decided to ignore the chairs near the bed and knelt onto the tile instead. He held onto the bedside railing with a white knuckled grip, resting his chin on his hand to stare at the sleeping figure. All he could do was stare. His drunk brain raced as quickly as the liquor allowed it to as it tried to think of something to say if Toki woke up. What could he even say? He wasn’t as bad as apologizing as, say, Nathan was. It was just the simple fact that Skwisgaar had failed so miserably in his life so few times.

“I’m sorries,” he finally decided to whisper. “I’m so, so sorries. I don’ts knows why I lets any of thats happens to you. I wish...I wish it was differents.”

Tears ran hot and shameful down his cheeks. Skwisgaar sucked in a trembling breath. He was excellent at hiding his crying - years of practice - but even his expert emotional repression was no match for Toki. It never was.

- - -

They were nestled in an aisle of lamps when Toki had said it. Big eyes stared at Skwisgaar pitifully, shoulders slumped, a perpetually happy face pulled into a frown.

“Whys you say that?!” Skwisgaar’s voice was soft but demanding. An attempt at not causing a scene.

“I don’ts...I don’ts knows…” Toki managed to mumble as he stared at his boots. “I just feels like nobodies would miss mes. And like it’s the only things to do rights now.”

Skwisgaar didn’t know what to say, or think, or feel. All he could do was grab him and pull him close. The sound of a little cry against his shoulder broke his own heart so fully that he was crying without realizing.

“Toki, don’ts you dares,” he said against his ear. “Don’ts fuckings do that to mes. Us. I...we...we can’ts be a bands without you, okays?”

“I-” was the tiny reply.

“Okay?” he repeated sternly. “You can’ts fuckings leaves us. Can'ts leaves me. Not likes that. Not evers.”

“Okay. I promise I won’ts leaves.”

- - -

“I wish none of thats had happeneds to yous, Toki,” he sobbed. Even saying his name felt wrong. “I was so fuckings dumb. And then to just sits and not sees you when that ams all I fucking wanteds...because it hurts. It hurts to sees you.”

He hung his head as another cry escaped him. Toki didn’t seem to stir.

“I don’ts expect yous to forgives me but…” he sniffled, watching his tears leave dark spots on the sheet under him. “But I hopes you do at some points.”

And all he could do was cry.

Skwisgaar felt his stomach lurch when fingers weaved through his hair.

“Skwisgaar?” the voice was small, hoarse and broken. “Is okay.”

He froze.

“I forgives you,” Toki said softly. Skwisgaar looked up to look at him and he sobbed harder. Toki’s smile, sweet and sad, faltered for a moment. “Aw, don’ts cry. I knows you sorry.”

“Toki-” he croaked.

“I forgives you, okay?” said Toki. “Okay?”

Skwisgaar closed his eyes as the hand in his hair traveled downwards, cupping his cheek and wiping his tears.

“Okay,” he repeated. “Toki...I’ms…I’ms sorry…”

“I heards,” Toki reassured him. “The other guys tells me too, that theys sorries. It ams okay, Skwisgaar. Yous here nows.”

He was, wasn’t he? Toki’s face was almost serene, too forgiving, for what was happening. But Skwisgaar felt the forgiveness and warmth of his gaze wash over his body as Toki’s thumb stroked a tiny circle on his cheekbone.

“I promised I wouldn’t leaves you,” he said. And after everything that happened, he laughed. “Can’ts get rids of me so easies!”

Skwisgaar’s laugh was small and strained, but happy. He placed a hand over Toki’s and smiled at its warmth. Warm and alive. He was back. Toki was back.

Toki was safe and smiling again.

That was all Skwisgaar could ask for.

Chapter Text

Toki always found himself outside now. Once he was given the go-ahead, it was like he couldn’t get enough of it. Like he had realized he had been wasting his time on video games and TV and other indoorsy hobbies. Fresh air, the gardens he didn’t even realize Mordhaus had, the feeling of sun on his skin.

He had missed the sun.

There was a koi pond. Was it his idea? He couldn’t remember. But he still lay in the grass and stared down at the swimming colors. Oranges and reds and whites and blacks, long fanned tails, fat bodies wiggling through the water. Something to look at when he felt a little too sad. Sometimes he would throw them little pellets, brown and suspiciously fishy smelling, and he hoped they didn’t eat other fish. They were too pretty for that. Other times he simply dipped his fingers in the water and sat as still as possible to see which ones would come up and nibble at him.

And every time that he wandered through the gardens it was like Skwisgaar was glued to his side. Or any time he went anywhere, really. Not that Toki particularly minded. The guys had all kind of done that when he first woke up and was up and about. They had all hovered over and around him with a kind of nervous energy that made him feel anxious and smothered but loved all the same. But with Skwisgaar it was different.

“I just don’ts like it whens you goes off,” Skwisgaar had explained once, watching as Toki tossed food into the koi pond. "Wanderings around."

"You don't have to follows me," he had replied coyly.

But he appreciated it. Skwisgaar was a calming presence in his life - a constant stream of noise and chatter when Toki felt too withdrawn and quiet to engage in proper conversation. He could always drag words out of him, goading him into speaking. Though some days he just let him talk about whatever was on his mind. It was soothing.

Even when they sat in silence, it wasn’t always silence, because sometimes the two of them would play. Toki’s fingers had shook on the fretboard a bit at first but doctor’s had reassured him it was a lack of use, falling out of practice, and not something related to what had happened. That the skills would come back to him if he just kept practicing. Skwisgaar had sat by and watched him practice from time to time, fingers stumbling over scales and exercises and songs that he had thought he had mastered years ago.

Which is what he was struggling with now. The pads of his fingers were indented and painful, the guitar digging into his thighs as he sat, the guitar strap too loose and too throttling at the same time. The stretching across the frets hurt his fingers and they stumbled over each other at any attempt at faster playing. It was frustrating to the point of tears.

- - -

”HOLD HIM STILL.”

His hand still hurt from the attempt at a punch. His knuckles had caught more metal than the flesh of his captor’s face and he watched as it bled freely onto the stone below. A booted foot rested on his wrist and Toki weakly flailed against it.

“I SAID-”

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

“HE PUNCHED ME. HIS HAND GOES.”

“No? No! We aren’t fuckin’ doin’ that, man, let him-”

- - -

Maybe it would have been easier if that had happened. A better excuse.

“I hates this,” he mumbled, head down as he swiped at his eyes with the heel of his palm.

A hand rested on his shoulder and Toki couldn’t bring himself to look up and face him. The hand squeezed him once. Twice.

"Toki,” Skwisgaar said softly.

Three times.

“Looks at me,” he saw a wisp of blonde hair out of his periphery. Everything was blurred on his left. Skwisgaar had tried to sit on his right to compensate, but it was a new thing to compensate for. So he was a pale blur as he spoke. “Toki.”

Toki looked. Braced himself for the criticism.

“You ams doing so goods,” the tone was lighter than he expected. “You...hm...you ams way more...gooders than...you used to-don’ts laugh!”

Toki couldn’t help himself. The snicker had bubbled out of him faster than he meant it to, a little titter than made Skwisgaar’s nose crinkle in distaste.

“I sounds like shits,” argued Toki, strumming a single, open note on the guitar like that meant anything. “Don’ts tries to butter me ups.”

“I’m not-you don’ts-Toki-” Skwisgaar’s hemming and hawing was almost dramatic in how he executed it, angry sputtering that came out like an angry cat. “Listens...you sounds a little roughs but we ams gonna fix that. That ams why you are practicings.”

With a nod of understanding, Toki went back to trying to practice. Skwisgaar nodded a bit before swinging the metronome back into place. A simple beat. One two three four. What was he even trying to play? Right. The scales. Blues scales. He had argued with Skwisgaar over them years and years ago, trying to argue that he didn’t want to play blues. He wanted to play metal. So it was useless. Skwisgaar had told him something about how blues had influenced a lot of people who ended up influencing the bands who influenced them but knowing Toki, he had probably wandered off at some point in between the lecture.

Why did people always try to argue with him about the origins of metal when it was hot? First the sweltering summer in Florida, then the crisp and humid spring in Georgia. It fried his brain.

But things improved, slowly but surely, a leisurely pace of growth. Songs were easier to remember. Dethklok songs were soon enough a breeze again...mostly. There were still little mistakes here and there but Toki’s ego was soothed over

“I’m glad to see you’re practicin’, at least,” Pickles attempted to tease over dinner. A few nervous glances were shot his way until Toki laughed. “Right? You never did before, dude!”

“I knows!” Toki gestured with his fork with another laugh. “It just tooks me getting snatcheds up and shit, then I ends up practicing!”

Nobody seemed to have found that as funny as Toki did. He wasn’t even sure why he said it, or why he laughed, or why it didn’t hurt to say.

The therapist was still frustratingly useless. Sometimes he would give Toki things to help him sleep when nightmares and bad memories kept him up. He always had and now that there were more problems the scripts were tossed at him with more regularity. Sure if he took them regularly, kept a schedule and all that, maybe it would be easier for him to keep his mood stabilized with mood stabilizers. But it just made him feel...syrupy. Gross.

Skwisgaar had been the first to notice Toki’s nightmares. Or...well...he had been the first one to address them. Maybe it was because the apartment they ended up moving into - the second one, the nicer one they settled in after the first rush of sales on their first album - had thin walls and their rooms were next to each other. But sometimes Skwisgaar would still drop by and visit if he heard Toki in the middle of the night.

Toki had woken up flailing, things on the table next to his bed on the floor, a cold sweat keeping the fabric of his shirt glued to his skin. He couldn’t remember what most of the dreams were. At least the details. Sometimes it was his mother and father. The standard sets of nightmares that had kept him awake for years, like a bad movie he couldn’t shut off, something that kept him from sleeping properly for weeks at a time. His dreams were haunted by eyes. Great white birch trees with dark black notches that followed him as he ran through an endless forest of his childhood. Two sets of blue eyes that mirrored his own as they stared down with God-given, seething anger. One so brown it was almost black, the other grey in its death and uselessness.

“You wants to talks about it?” Skwisgaar offered lamely as he sat at the foot of Toki’s bed. He looked up at Toki from under his hair, a little mass of tangles from sleep, before staring at one of the model planes hanging from the ceiling.

“No?” Toki gave him a sideways look as he pulled another shirt over his head. “Why woulds I?”

“I dunno. Helps gets it off your brain?” he spoke with a shrug as his eyes fell on the copies of the single photo Toki had of his parents. Then he looked at Toki again. "It's...I dunno. You been goings to the psy-kee-artists?"

"No," he shrugged and lay on his back again. Stared at the stone ceiling and the childish model planes that dangled from strings, cast shadows like metal birds, were a reminder of when he had the energy to do things. "You know hims ams dildoes, it's stupids."

"If you wants more progress-" Skwisgaar started.

"You been goings? We all needs fuckin' therapies," Toki snapped, voice petulant enough to make himself flinch.

The silence was enough of an answer. He bathed in the smugness for a moment before he felt the shift of weight on his bed and saw Skwisgaar creep into his view. With a little roll of his eyes, Toki turned on his side so he could face him. They lay there, for a moment, just the two of them. He found it more relaxing than he expected. It made sense, didn't it? It was almost like the plush toys that were currently abandoned in his closet - tossed aside, the same bitter reminder as the model planes. The presence of something else in the dark and the night was comforting.

But Skwisgaar was not fat with stuffing, or covered in a downy felt, or had little black buttons for eyes. He was slim with smooth skin and his eyes were a constant, brilliant blue shine. Though to his credit he was more forgiving than the straw dolls Toki was fleetingly allowed in his childhood. Rough and skinny and unforgiving with rotting bodies from being buried in the snow for safekeeping.

Skwisgaar was warm, comforting and could hug Toki back. And he did as Toki reached out for him. He could hear steady breathing and a heartbeat. He felt another shift of weight as Skwisgaar clicked off the lamp on the bedside table and plunged them into mostly darkness. There was a point of light in the corner of his bedroom, a warm white of a nightlight. It was harder to sleep in the dark now.

But Toki fell asleep in Skwisgaar’s arms faster than he expected.

Practicing grew easier. Days grew longer. The weather was warmer. Different flowers and plants in the gardens flourished. Some of the koi and goldfish in the pond turned from a dull green-black to match their friends in vivid reds and oranges and whites.

Summer.

Toki was still outside more often than not, but at least this time he would bring his guitar. It made it easier to talk to Skwisgaar because sometimes they didn't talk still. But in a way, it was talking, and it was easier than talking to Skwisgaar. He felt the need to apologize more and more as time went on for past mistakes that felt numerous in their sins.

- - -

"Let's see what's next. 'And then he went and then he saw that I was trying to write solo and-' holy shit you needed to get a ghostwriter for this."

Toki just stared and counted the bricks.

"Hmm...ooh, this part…'Now Toki, what have I been saying is-'"

That made his head snap up. He was angrier than he expected at that, at the mangled attempt at Skwisgaar’s accent in mockery, at the realization that was made easier by his actions.

"Shuts up!"

An intense stare flicked up from the book.

"You wrote the book, man," Toki watched as long legs stretched and sent the chair wheeling back on two legs for a moment. "I saw the press tour. Shit, I pre-ordered-"

- - -

"Skwisgaar…" Toki began tentatively.

The sound of frantic, unplugged fretting stopped.

"I just wants to…" he swallowed. His gaze darted to the koi pond and watched their languid drifting. "Say, uh…"

"Outs with it," Skwisgaar urged.

"Say sorries," Toki finished. He looked up at Skwisgaar and shrank in on himself. "For the books. I never said sorries."

Skwisgaar blinked. And then laughed. Toki balked at the laughter and cocked his head to the side in offended curiosity.

"That? That was, God, forevers ago it feels likes. I'm overs it!" Skwisgaar waved his hand as if he was swatting away the problem entirely. "It's, ah, funny? Almost?"

"Funny?" Toki sputtered.

"Yes! We was so stupids and dramatics," he paused and saw Toki's face. "But...I forgives you."

It did feel like it was forever ago. He wasn't sure why he had brought it up other than to soothe his own mind. Skwisgaar seemed unbothered by it. Had laughed about it! So was it that easy? Everything felt so far away now. Everything was far-off, Charles was gone, the other guys treated and talked to him differently. Except for Skwisgaar. A constant. A reassurance.

Skwisgaar, who was still honest but gentle in his criticism of Toki's playing. Skwisgaar, who had sat with him for physical therapy. Skwisgaar, who eventually probed Toki back to therapy. Skwisgaar, who had all but invited himself into Toki's bedroom to stay night after night when nightmares got too bad.

He found it easier to exist like this now. The storms outside grew worse and Charles finally got in touch with them and Toki's dreams changed dramatically. But Skwisgaar made it easier. He was always easier to talk to.

- - -

"Why they always makes fun?" Toki pouted as he sat down on the sofa.

Skwisgaar cut his eyes up on him and raised his eyebrows. A silent question.

"How we talks," he explained. "It ams so annoyings."

"They dumb Americans. Don't know no betters, you knows?" Skwisgaar looked over at Toki again. "Don't lets it gets to you. None of thems can strings words together eithers. You hear Nathan speaks?"

Toki snickered. He had a point.

"Besides, we always gots each others!" he said chipperly, clapping a hand on Skwisgaar’s shoulder. "Right?"

"Ah, yeah. Sures."

- - -

The last time that Toki had been on the roof of Mordhaus, it was not a pleasant memory. And it was a blur. He remembered it was dark and cold, a contrast to the sun warming his skin and the warmth it provided today. There had been something so smothering and oppressive in his skull. Something he couldn’t even name. He remembered times he had been threatened with things to actually cry over as a child, how he had been scolded for showing sadness and how it was so easy to bottle things up now.

He could have sworn Skwisgaar had been up there with him the last time, though he was alone this time. It had been raining, maybe? Maybe it would rain again. There were clouds that rolled over the sun and blotted it out for a moment. Everything was so grey and industrialized around Mordhaus now. He remembered grass and a distant mountain.

“Toki?”

He thought he was alone.

“Why you stalks me?” Toki’s voice was light and airy, with a sweet chuckle, before scooting over on the bump in the roof he had made his seat to allow Skwisgaar to sit.

“You…” whatever Skwisgaar was going to say died in his throat as he sat down. “You don’ts have the best tracks records-”

“I knows,” he shrugged.

There was a moment of silence between them. Skwisgaar fidgeted and twitched as he sat, fingers playing with a tear in his pants. Toki’s gaze was locked onto the great dragon that loomed over the main part of the mansion, watching as noxious smoke fell from its open mouth.

“Toki?” Skwisgaar finally said. “I wants to say somethings.”

Toki turned his head to look at him.

- - -

”Toki?!”

- - -

“I...we been friends…for a whiles…” Skwisgaar rubbed his palms together as he spoke and Toki wondered where his guitar was. “Long whiles.”

“Yeah,” he couldn’t argue with that.

“And...you...it’s goods to have you backs,” he continued awkwardly. “And...we been throughs a lots...togethers...separatelies…”

- - -

”Leaves me alone!”

“Get the fucks down from there!”

He remembered wind howling and whipping past his shirt, his hair was in his eyes, it was so cold and wet and he just wanted things to stop.

He wanted to stop hurting.

- - -

Skwisgaar mumbled something in Swedish, one of those things Toki had never really picked up on, and looked off into the distance for a moment.

“And I just thinks that you...I should...say somethings,” he rubbed the back of his neck and as he finished with that gesture, a new fidget developed as he began to play with his hair.

“You makings me really nervous,” Toki said with a little grimace. “What’s wrongs?”

“Nothings! It’s not that things are wrongs, it’s just…”

Skwisgaar groaned and buried his face in his hands.

- - -

”Toki you stubborn fucks get downs! I’ll tell Charles!”

“Whats he gonna do? Leave again?”

Skwisgaar had approached him. He remembered that much. He remembered hands on his shirt to tug him off the precipice and he remembered hurtling towards him.

His body was soft, and forgiving, and warm despite the chill from the winter’s rain.

- - -

“It’s just I really likes you and you have beens a good friends and I knows I treated you likes shits and I just wants to says that I…” Skwisgaar rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms as he spoke.

“Skwisgaar?” Toki said softly.

There was a soft wind that rustled through their hair, that parted the clouds, and suddenly the two were bathed in warm sunlight again.

“I thinks I gets it,” he said with a small smile.

- - -

”You are so...I am...Toki…”

He remembered that was the first time that Skwisgaar was speechless. And that was the first time that Skwisgaar had sobbed into his hair.

“Toki don’t you fuckings do that again! You asshole!”

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s…it’s okays,” he had whispered in his ear. “Just...stays with me, okays?”

- - -

Skwisgaar’s face was flushed and there were tears budding in his eyes. Toki wanted to laugh in sympathy, but he stayed quiet, instead offering to wipe one away as it fell down Skwisgaar’s cheek.

“I knows,” he said softly. “I misseds you too.”

“Not just thats…” Skwisgaar sniffled.

Toki drew Skwisgaar closer with an arm around his shoulders.

- - -

The last real memory he had in captivity was of screaming and the sound of flesh tearing and bones breaking.

Until they came for him.

“Toki? Stays with mes!”

And he was bathed in a red light.

- - -

“I really...cares...for you…” Skwisgaar said against his shoulder.

“I knows,” Toki replied.

“It’s just hards to say,” was the sullen addition.

“Is okay, Skwisgaar. Just…” he swallowed back a lump in his throat that had formed. “Just stays with me until you can says it, okay?”

“Okay.”

And the two sat in sunlight, a heat radiating off of the warmed roof tiles, with the sweet-smelling wind. It’s like things had been woken up finally. Things were new, and different, but improved. Even when the clouds came back, Skwisgaar looked at him with such a brilliance and warmth to him that it felt like there were no clouds at all.

He was the sun, and Toki had missed the sun.