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Skwisgaar drags his feet heavily through the silent hallways, immersed in the dimness that envelops the surroundings. The darkness is so dense that he can't distinguish the time, but the absence of sunlight and the imposing presence of the moon in the night sky indicate that the night has advanced considerably. With each step, his pajama pants brush against the floor, reminding him of the haste with which he was forced to leave his bed.
He wears only those pants, and regret looms over him as he feels the cold piercing his bare skin. A slight icy breeze raises the hairs on his arms, and he regrets not opting for a shirt that would provide at least some relief against the frigid atmosphere. His arms embrace his own body in a futile attempt to retain some warmth, while the loneliness of the hallway engulfs him.
Cold sweat soaks every pore of his skin, a sticky layer that only accentuates the chilling shiver that runs through him. Each breath is a labored sigh, and fear takes hold of his senses, clinging to him like an unrelenting shadow. The nightmare, with its invisible claws, relentlessly pursues him, a inescapable presence standing behind him, whispering misfortunes into his ear like a sinister wind.
The echoes of screams of pain resonate in his mind, an eternal echo that doesn't cease. The frightened eyes are seared into the retinas of the blonde, marked with the brutality of the experience. He stops for a moment, the world spinning around him, and he wonders how much longer he can bear this burden, how much longer he can carry the weight of the images that torment his mind. Skwisgaar fears he might have broken.
He shakes his head in despair, but the disturbing images persist, like shadows refusing to leave his tormented mind. He quickens his pace, the urgency of someone trying to escape his own thoughts, until he stands in front of the door. The wood seems to contain memories of times past, moments that now haunt him like ghosts from the past.
He remembers vividly the period after Toki's kidnapping when his room became his refuge, a sanctuary of melancholy and pain. He spent long hours in those four walls, shrouded in darkness, seeking solace in the sheets that still carried Toki's essence. He closed his eyes, hoping to find some trace of his presence, but as the days passed, reality cruelly asserted itself: there was nothing left of him in that space they once shared.
The sheets grew cold from loneliness; the scent of Toki, once a balm for his wounds, gradually faded into a distant echo. The room, once filled with laughter and movement, turned into a constant reminder of Toki's absence. After a while, Nathan forbade him from entering.
He swallows hard, bile rising in his throat, tired of thinking so much about it because Magnus is dead, and Toki is safe here, with him, with the band united. Although that doesn't change the fact that the images haunt Skwisgaar in his dreams.
He opens the door slowly, as if fearing to make noise even though Toki's sleep is not the lightest of all. He enters, closes the door behind him, and then opens his eyes. Darkness envelops him, and the only thing dimly illuminating the room is Toki's kitty lamp on the wall, because he's afraid of the dark after what happened.
Skwisgaar navigates cautiously through the scattered toy planes on the floor, carefully avoiding the sugar-free candy bags strewn around. With silent steps, navigating the childlike disorder, he finally reaches the edge of Toki's bed. Toki sleeps soundly, with his mouth slightly open and a sheet that wraps around him like a snake coiling around his legs, seemingly unaffected by the cold of the night. He wears blue pajamas adorned with pants splattered with yellow stars, a picturesque sight that brings a faint smile to Skwisgaar.
The peace on Toki's face, the gentle rhythm of his breathing as he rests, provides tangible relief to Skwisgaar. Seeing him there, in his safe space, alive and at peace, acts as a balm for the emotional wounds that persist in the guitarist. Although chaos and uncertainty surround their lives, this moment of calm provides a necessary respite, a pause to remember that, at least for now, they have each other, and the band remains united.
Skwisgaar sits carefully on the edge of the bed, the creaking wood beneath his weight. With delicate gestures, he brings his hand to Toki's face, his calloused fingers brushing the softness of the Norwegian's cheek.
The tips of his fingers ascend the smooth skin of Toki, exploring each feature in the dimness of the room with tenderness. His fingers find their way to Toki's hair, where they sink into the tangle of silky strands. Skwisgaar caresses gently, feeling the texture under his fingers as he arranges some strands. This moment is real, Toki is there, alive and safe, and Skwisgaar can't help but repeat it to himself.
"Skwisgaar?" The whisper breaks the silence, resonating in the room like a soft echo. The caresses abruptly stop, and Skwisgaar looks up, meeting the sleepy and curious eyes of the rhythm guitarist. Toki, still wrapped in the mantle of sleep, seems confused to see Skwisgaar there.
The lead guitarist doesn't respond immediately; instead, his fingers resume the touches with a mixture of gentleness and determination. He averts his gaze, feeling something flutter in his chest when he meets Toki's eyes. The room is enveloped in a momentary silence, as if time stood still, leaving only the two of them immersed in this moment of intimacy.
Toki, tilting his head with curiosity, watches Skwisgaar in search of answers that don't come. The blonde immerses himself in the task of caressing Toki's hair, as if touch could convey what words fail to express.
Skwisgaar feels the accelerated pulse of his own heart, wondering if Toki will fall back into sleep or if he will stay awake for him; it seems to be the latter.
"What ams you doing heres, Skwisgaar?" The blonde hums softly, briefly diverting his gaze from Toki. His fingers find Toki's face, tracing gentle lines from the nose to the cheekbones with an intimate and protective gesture. The murmur of his words sounds like a shared secret, something special that only the two of them can understand.
"Can I sleep with you tonights?" The request hangs in the air, wrapped in the vulnerability that lingers in the space between them. The room is saturated with Skwisgaar's plea, and the silence that follows is almost palpable. Toki, with a mix of surprise and curiosity in his eyes, absorbs Skwisgaar's words.
A dense silence follows Skwisgaar's request, a suspended moment where time seems to slow down. The lead guitarist observes the surprise and confusion reflected in Toki's face, as if he couldn't believe that he, the guitar god among all band members, was asking him with almost longing to share his sleeping space that night. The role reversal doesn't go unnoticed by Skwisgaar, accustomed to Toki seeking refuge in his presence.
Finally, Toki's words break the silence. "Yes, Skwisgaar, of course you can." Acceptance blends with a hint of a smile, as if the initial surprise had dissipated to give way to understanding.
Toki, with a kind gesture, makes room on the bed, sliding to the side and pressing against the wall to make space for Skwisgaar. The small room seems to shrink as the two guitarists settle into the confined resting space. Skwisgaar thanks with a look and settles in, feeling the cold that has reached him, permeating his skin.
Toki, being considerate, covers them with the sheet in a warm gesture that creates a shared refuge in the narrow bed. They end up, both on their sides, facing each other, with only inches between them. However, suddenly, Skwisgaar feels nervous, as if the sudden proximity has left him vulnerable.
Toki's eyes, looking at him with tenderness, only intensify that feeling.
"Nightmares?" The question slips gently from Toki's lips, his brown-haired gaze directed at Skwisgaar beneath his lashes, with tenderness. His hands are hidden on his chest, not touching Skwisgaar; he hasn't touched him since he's been here, and Skwisgaar doesn't know why that bothers him so much.
The blonde hums, nodding, his eyes seeming reluctant to leave Toki's, swimming in the blue of his eyes. Then Toki closes them for a moment, and Skwisgaar feels a twinge of anguish for that.
Then, in that moment, everything takes on a unique meaning when Toki lifts the hands that were carefully hidden and opens his arms slightly. There's no need for words, as Toki understands without Skwisgaar expressing it, he has grasped that longing that has pulsated between them from the beginning. Toki's warm arms envelop Skwisgaar's cold being, drawing him in decisively. In that embrace, Skwisgaar experiences a sense of completeness, as if he finally found a safe haven.
His own arms find their way around Toki, embracing him with contained desperation. Skwisgaar lowers his face, placing his cheek on Toki's head, feeling the softness of his hair against his skin. Toki's hands caress Skwisgaar's back with a tenderness that feels complete and loving.
And nothing more is said, the past is not mentioned, the feelings are not mentioned. There's no need, Toki already knows, perhaps he always knew. Skwisgaar clings to Toki as if he feared losing him, as if he feared waking up and knowing that Toki never returned, that Magnus did something irreparable to him. But when Toki clings to him, whispering his name with longing, Skwisgaar finally breathes and then allows himself to sleep.