Archive of Our Own ^beta

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After the whole doomstar business, they were all relieved to hear that Charles wished to continue being their manager and CFO. The church of the Black Klok would continue on, but they could appoint a new leader. The prophecy was fulfilled, he missed his boys. And he would never admit it to them, for fear of being called gay (even if he was, oh well), but the thought of them not involved in his daily life was putting him down. He’d gotten so used to their antics, their pointless arguments. They were his entire life, and to them, he was theirs. So with him back, he was needed now more than he ever has been. Not just by Toki, the band’s most needy member, but by all of them. And he did his best to his ability to cure whatever troubled them

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He hasn’t seen the boy since his capture, so to be reunited finally with Toki, it was beyond emotional. He could tell he’s healed, but there’s still work to be done. But who could blame him? He went straight from being rescued from that hell just to go straight to saving the world. If he had to decide who was the bravest of the five, he would have to give that title to Toki.

But even with that, the poor man’s psychological state did in fact worsen. Not only was he plagued by nightmares of his home life back in Norway, the abuse that was dished out by his excuse of a father, but now he had other horrors to worry about. Magnus and the metal masked assassin, the hellhole he and Abigail were trapped in, and the memory of being strapped to that awful machine, being plagued with the idea that ‘this is it, I’m really going to die here with the rest of them.’

So it wasn’t uncommon to be woken by soft but rapid knocks in the middle of the night, though still he jolted awake. Charles had never been a heavy sleeper, but after coming back from the dead, he feels it made it worse. Oh well. He groaned as he decided to just leave his glasses off, squinting just slightly at his bedroom door. He turned a bedside lamp on, sighing softly as he rubbed his face. “It’s ah, it’s open.”

To nobody's surprise, standing outside his doorway was Toki, clutching his deddy bear to his chest, tears rolling down his face. Fuck, it would never not be a direct jab to his heart anytime he saw Toki so distraught. But he could tell that this time, whatever haunted him in his dreams, that it was bad. He wouldn’t go to him unless he absolutely needed it, since the rest of the band usually accommodated him. Charles was the last resort, the one who no matter what, would comfort him.

So to see him so distraught, he practically jumped out of bed, hurrying over to the other. Though he slowed himself slightly when he noticed the other flinch away, taking a large step back from him. He just sniffled, looking at the other with tear filled eyes. He tried speaking, his mouth opening. But all that really came out was whines or sounds that Charles couldn’t exactly decipher. “Hey, hey...you don’t gotta ah, explain. Cmon Toki…you wanna come lay down?” The other looked at him and nodded, sniffling as he followed Charles back to his bed. He crawled in first, quickly getting himself underneath the covers. He watched as Charles followed, grabbing another blanket for himself. He figured it’d be better if Toki had his own, he wouldn’t make him share while he was in this state.

Once Charles got himself on the bed, he was practically tackled backwards. Toki clung to him, arms wrapped around him tightly as he fell back against the bed, quickly wrapping his arms back around Toki. He would give up his entire life savings just to not see Toki like this ever again. He just held onto him while he rubbed his back, allowing him to cry into his shoulder. He’d let him cry it out first, then they could get to the bottom of whatever did this to him.

It took maybe half an hour before Toki managed to calm himself down a little, to the point where his sobs ended up calming down to tears running down his cheeks quietly, soft hiccups heard as his body tried to regulate itself. And still, Charles was holding onto him, rubbing his back carefully. He made sure his hand didn’t linger too long on the horrid scar left by Magnus. He knew better than to touch something so fresh.

Toki made a small noise before moving away from Charles, not entirely. Just enough for him to adjust how they were. He laid himself on Charles’ chest, sniffling still while he pulled his bear back against his own chest. Charles just sighed softly, though not out of frustration, just exhaustion, and worry. He rubbed his back still, glancing at Toki. “føler du deg bedre? vil du snakke?” ‘Do you feel any better? Do you wanna talk?” Now he was glad that he decided to take up Norwegian in college, amongst a few other languages, but he never thought this was one that he would actually use in his daily life.

Toki nodded a little, trying to adjust himself so he could get more comfortable on top of Charles. “In…englisk though…I wanna practices speaking it more betters…” He sniffled, though he did appreciate Charles making the effort to speak to him in his native tongue. It showed him that the other really did care for him. The room was silent for another few moments, and for the most part it was peaceful. Had Toki not be crying in his arms, he would find the moment to be sweet, though he supposed it was definitely bittersweet, to be holding the Norwegian man as close as he could, comforting him to the best of his ability.

Eventually though, he finally gained the courage to speak, even if it was just Charles in the room he still had this nagging fear that if his nightmare was deemed ‘stupid enough’, Charles would kick him out from his room, not willing to bother with his delusional fears. “I…it was a lots of bad…stuffs. Little bits of everythingks…first it was uhms…Magnus, but then he turnded into mines father, I-I…was back in Norways, being beatens by him…and it lasteds so long I…thoughts I was reallys there…b-but then it changes to…uhm…den store, onde maskinen-”
‘That big, evil machine’

After that he shuddered, his grip tightening on Charles. The other was in shock really, though he tried his damn hardest to not let it show. This was a nightmare Toki had within one night? Hell, this poor man just faced every one of his fears in just a few hours. No wonder he was so shaken up. He was honestly surprised he wasn’t stuck in his punishment hole, mentally of course. So for Toki to actually be talking to him about this, so soon after it happened, it at least showed his meetings with Twinkletits were paying off, slowly but surely.

“Well, first off Toki I ah, really appreciate you coming to me. That was very brave of you, okay? You did just fine…and second, you deserved none of this…a lot has been happening these past few months, especially for you- you’re allowed to not be okay yet, there’s a lot to heal from. And for you to go from being rescued to saving the world, you ah, did great. Maybe no one else got to tell you, but I’m proud of you, the entire band is proud of you, but especially me.” He was rubbing his back still, jumping when he heard another sob come from the other. Fuck, did he say the wrong thing?

Toki made a small sound before he felt the tears come back again, though he was smiling weakly. He’s almost never heard those words, I’m proud of you, toki. But they meant the absolute world to him. He nudged his head against Charles, pulling back a little so that he could see that he was smiling. “You amnst proud of Toki? Reallys?” he sniffled, smiling weakly at Charles. He leaned into his hand when he felt it against his cheek, his thumb wiping away his tears gently. “Of course…what’s there ah, to not be proud of? The others may not tell you, but I know they’re proud of you. All of them.”

Toki still had his smile plastered on his face, and Charles truly thought his smile could cure even the worst of illnesses. It was so pure, everything about Toki was so pure. After the Hell he’s been through his entire life, he remained pure and kind. He wasn’t sure of how many people had just an ounce of what Toki had. How many people could go through just a fraction of what Toki has and remain true to themselves, to their friends and family.

“If you want, you can stay for the rest of the night. As long as you ah, need to of course. I’ll be here with you, okay? I can have breakfast be delivered to my room, I’ll make sure they know to accommodate to you, okay? Try and sleep if you ah, can Toki…I’ll put the tv on for some background noise, alright? You want it to be any specific show or just ah, cartoons you like?”

Toki just shrugged, yawning softly. He hoped that translated well, that he didn’t really mind what was put on, he just wanted something to fill the silence of the room. He always slept better when he had something he liked playing on the tv.

So Charles did just that, settling on a show that he knew Toki enjoyed. He sighed softly as he felt the other settle down into his chest, his shaky breaths soon easing up into a more even, calm pattern. It wasn’t long before Toki was back asleep. He could only imagine how exhausted he must’ve been to have fallen asleep so easily. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit to staying up longer than him, worried about the other waking from another awful dream. Though thankfully, he seemed to sleep through the rest of the night peacefully, and Charles was soon able to catch up on his much needed rest.

In the morning, he decided to just give himself the day off, so that he could devote his attention to Toki. Sure he could go off to one of his bandmates, but he was certain Toki would prefer to stay with Charles. Typically when he went to someone, he preferred to stay by their side as long as they would put up with him. Thankfully, Charles never got tired of him. He decided to head back to sleep when he woke up far too early, something he often didn’t allow himself to do. He’d honestly forgotten how good it felt to sleep in, it had him also consider doing this more often. He knew the band wouldn’t give two shits, but he personally did. Maybe he could make a schedule, of days he would take it a little easier, or for breaks

Though eventually he was woken up by the sound of cartoons and laughter, his face scrunching up a little. He reached over and grabbed his glasses, settling them on his face with a yawn. Once his vision was less blurry, he was able to actually see what was happening. Toki was seated in bed still, holding a plate of waffles carefully while his attention was devoted to whatever show Charles had put on before the two of them went to bed. He would’ve told Toki he didn’t really like food in his bed, but he could tell he was being careful. He even had a bunch of napkins sprawled out on the sheets, just in case anything did happen to spill.

Honestly, there was no better way for him to be woken up. He wouldn’t trade this life for anything else.

Chapter Text

Leave it to the band's frontman, the scariest of the 5, to be the biggest baby when it came to a little cold. Sure the rest of the band acted just about the same, but he was the softest of the group. He would remain in bed all day if he was allowed, especially after what happened last time the group had all gotten summer colds. He didn’t think losing so much could be so bad, but it had been pretty metal.

Still, he was horrible when it came to dealing with being sick, he always has been. As much as he talked shit about his parents, he missed how they would baby him when he got sick. His dad made a killer chicken soup, and his mom would usually sit in his room most of the day, talking to him about nonsense. She liked to keep him busy really, with either tv that they both enjoyed, puzzle books, or just random conversation. He was honestly lucky to have the best relationship with his parents out of his whole band. Hell, he’s told all of them he’d be willing to share his parents, since they were basically a giant family already.

Nathan groaned as he thought about his parents right now, how he wanted them. Honestly, he thought about calling them and having them be picked up via dethcopter, he just wanted someone to look after him. And speaking of the devil, he heard a series of knocks against his large bedroom door. He groaned, and that was as much as he would communicate to whoever was on the outside of his bedroom, but to him that was a pretty obvious way of giving permission to enter his room.

Charles entered quietly, letting the door close behind him gently. He had been trying to get the band in the studio, though caught no sign of Nathan. Not even the rest of the band knew he was sick. All he’d gotten from them were theories on what was wrong. Another liver transplant, fucking a groupie, drinking to the point of a blackout and eventually, of course, a liver transplant (at that point they ran out of ideas and were jsut repeating), or just sleeping. He supposed the last one was slightly right, or at least on track to being correct.

He took a peek at Nathan, who was currently hiding underneath the covers of his bed. He sighed, stepping towards the bed and kneeling down. “I can’t imagine that being comfortable, what's wrong? Is the room too ah, too bright?” He listened to the singer grunt, and with that he took it as a sign to get up, drawing the blinds to a close. He hummed, moving the blackout curtains to cover any remaining light seeping through the cracks. “There, it’s almost ah, pitch black in here. Just your lamp is on. You ah, want it to be turned off? Or is it okay?” Nathan peeked his head out just slightly from his covers, his body visibly relaxing when he noticed the lighting was much better. Now his headache wasn’t brutally pounding against his head, at least.

And now, Charles was able to get a proper look at Nathan. He looked absolutely terrible, and he was sure he felt worse. His eyes were slightly red, and he had dark bags under them. He had got a peek of his nose, it seemed to be red from either irritation or congestion, most likely both. His hair seemed fine, just a little messy, most likely from being in bed all day. He frowned, reaching forward to place the back of his hand against his forehead. “Fuck, Nathan you’re burning up. Have you ah, taken anything? Or have you been in bed all day?”

The singer just groaned, nodding when he heard the second part of his question. “Only been in bed…haven’t taken anything…fuck my fucking head hurts dude.” He was practically whispering, he seemed to have lost his voice a little too. So now they definitely had to make sure Nathan got back to his normal self so they could get back to recording. At least it gave the rest of the band a free pass, able to goof off and do as they pleased without harsh repercussions from Charles.

“Then I’ll be right back with some medicine, a wet rag-” He stopped mid-sentence when he heard the singer grunt in frustration, watching as he reached out and fumbled around for a moment before he finally latched onto Charles’ wrist. “Alright, I take it you don’t want me to leave…klokateer it is.” He hummed, pulling his phone out to make the request. He ordered for someone to bring cold medicine, something to help lower his fever, something for his headache as well as a damp rag he could place on his forehead to also help alleviate some of the discomfort that came from his fever. He also made sure to have another Klokateer contact his family to get whatever their recipe was for his dad’s soup. Nathan always begs for it when he’s like this, he figured he could get it easily from his father.

Charles put his phone away, watching as Nathan adjusted himself to lay on his stomach. He groaned, peeking over at Charles. “We had practice today, I assume?” He mumbled, turning his head away so he could cough into his blanket. He knew it wasn’t sanitary, but right now that was the last thing he gave a fuck about. Charles nodded, offering a small smile. “They didn’t get very far, ah, without you. It’s okay, let's focus on ah, getting you back to you being you. We can worry about music shit later, understand?” Nathan nodded just a little, his eyes closing again with a groan.

Though it didn’t take long for his eyes to open right back up, looking at Charles wide eyed. He had felt his hand settle along his back, and it wasn’t like he didn’t enjoy it, it just scared the shit out of him. Charles could feel his heart all the way through his back. “Sorry, sorry- should’ve given a ah, a warning yeah? Sorry if I startled you. Just try and rest for a moment, your medicine should be here soon. You can take it, then head back to sleep…rest is ah, important to getting better. I don’t even wanna imagine how little sleep the five of you get.”

Nathan nodded and yawned, doing as he requested of him, for once. He rested his eyes until he heard another knock on his door, presumably the klokateer. He listened to Charles and the worker as they spoke about the doses and whatnot. He groaned, his eyes opening after a moment. Might as well make this job easy on Charles, he didn’t want to be difficult and risk the other leaving out of frustration. He managed to sit himself up just a tiny bit, rubbing at his face with a groan. He took all medicine as directed, as well as taking the rag from Charles and setting it on his forehead. At first he didn’t really like the feeling of it, how cold it was compared to every other part of him. Eventually though he started to enjoy it, and that’s when he realized how uncomfortably hot he felt. Still he kept his blanket on, since it provided a barrier between him and the outside world, and it was a comfortable weight on him. He didn’t really sleep well if he didn’t have some kind of weight on top of him. It was a comforting feeling he couldn’t really explain.

Charles let him sleep, seeing as he had no other meds for him to take and nothing much left to do. He decided to tidy up the singer’s room a little bit, seeing as his illness meant he wasn’t as clean as he would’ve liked to be. Laundry was on the floor, as well as some plates and cups left scattered in the room. Nathan was pretty serious when it came to keeping at least his bedroom clean, as he’s told Charles before. It was his personal space, of course he wanted it clean. He was embarrassed if one thing was out of place when he decided to bring a girl over, even if they never minded. So Charles helping get his room back on track, it meant a lot to him. Had he been awake, he probably would’ve been holding back some tears. Maybe not cry in front of him, but he’d be seriously fighting that urge to cry.

Once he finished tidying up what little mess was scattered across the room, Charles decided to just sit on the other side of Nathan’s bed. It was large enough to fit the entire band, including himself. So he was sure Nathan wouldn’t mind if he sat on a further end, away from the singer. Though he turned his attention to Nathan when he heard him grumbling, sighing softly. He scooted closer, setting his hand on his back again. “Hey ah, big guy…everything alright? Need anything from me?”

Nathan was quiet for a while, though it wasn’t like he really wanted to speak right now. His throat was killing him, and his voice was practically gone anyway so it wasn’t like he could really voice his needs. He had first made a sipping motion, holding his pinkie out. so he wanted tea, got it. He then lifted his hand once more, making a different motion with his hand, as if he was writing on paper. A notepad, he wanted a notepad. Luckily, Charles was smart so he deciphered the message pretty quickly. “I’ll have a little ah, notebook be dropped off alright? Don’t stress your throat more than you need to. You can ah, write to me what kind of tea you like, got it?” He watched Nathan nod, laying his head back down while they both waited for the klokateer to hurry and deliver what was requested.

It didn’t take long, even if Nathan wanted it to take a bit to get to him. He knew their workers were fast and efficient, though he was hoping to head back to sleep for a little bit before he had to write out his needs to Charles. Just the thought of having to move his wrist bothered him. He forced himself up, though he was thankful when he felt Charles’ hand along his back, waiting while he adjusted his pillows to help him sit upright. He was given the notepad, a pen, and across his lap, Charles set down a bed table, the ones that rest over your lap. It would come in handy when Nathan needed to communicate, or when it came time for him to eat. He didn’t want to risk him spilling soup or tea over himself, he was sure it would end terribly.

Nathan went to work, writing away on the paper. He was soon done, showing Charles the paper. On it, was written ‘chamomile’. Honestly, Charles was shocked that he got that word correct, though that must mean that was one he tended to gravitate towards. He nodded and offered a smile, pulling his phone out again. “We’ll have that out ah, fast for you okay? And some soup…it’s a ah, bit of a surprise on what kind though. But I think it’ll lift your mood up a little.” He told their chef to get the tea prepared, as well as bring up his food. He figured it was done by now, or at least finishing up. He just knew Nathan needed food in his system to help him feel better.

It wasn’t long before both items were brought up, as well as just some water. Charles helped set the tray over Nathan’s lap, making sure it wouldn’t somehow fall off the table he had settled on top of him. Maybe he was being over cautious, but he liked to show he cared. He knew how Nathan got when he was sick, and he knew better by now than to leave the other to be on his own like this.

Nathan was at least able to feed himself, he wasn’t that weak. He groaned softly, though after a minute his eyes widened. Fuck the notepad, he couldn’t be bothered with it right now. “Fuck, dude is that…my dad’s soup?” he looked at Charles, quickly eating more and more spoonfuls. Even if Charles didn’t confirm, he could tell it was. He grew up eating this shit, of course he knew what it tasted like. He managed a weak smile, visibly relaxing into the bed. For the first time since he managed to get sick, he felt at ease. Not 100% of course, but it helped him mentally feel that little bit better.

He didn’t know what kind of magic Charles pulled off to convince his dad to send over his recipe, nor did he want to know, if he had to be honest. Not out of fear, he just didn’t really care all too much. Didn’t really affect him at the end of the day.

It took a bit more medicine and some TLC from Charles, but eventually Nathan was back to his normal self within the next few days. And now, Nathan had to think about all the different ways he could pay Charles back.

Chapter Text

It was known amongst the band that they (almost) all had fucked relationships with their families. So days like mothers day and fathers day were kind of like open sores to certain band members.

Currently, Nathan was celebrating fathers day with his dad, and he had dragged Toki and Pickles along, since he told them he was gonna share his dad with them this year. He would’ve taken the whole band, but the other two members were being petty. Not like it shocked anyone, of course.

Skwisgaar told him ‘it ams pointless, I grew up with no fathers. I don’t needs one nows’. And Murderface just kinda scowled and went back to stabbing his furniture. He didn’t want to impose or be a bother, but fuck him sideways if having a dad like Nathan’s didn’t sound nice. Well, any dad would be nice to have compared to a dead one, in his eyes.

But, if the two of them had to be honest with themselves, they had wanted to spend their time today with Charles. They weren’t sure if he knew, but to all of them, he was like their father- he was their band dad! He took care of them, both when it came to his job and in areas he didn’t need to care about. No band manager should have to take care of five, incredibly hungover, full grown men. But still he did, and shockingly didn’t ask for a pay raise.

For the first bit of the day, Skwisgaar was sulking alone in his room, playing his guitar to himself. Though after a bit, he even had to pull himself away from his guitar. He was getting so upset from his inner turmoil, he was shaking so bad that he'd almost dropped his guitar. He’d go back to it sooner or later, he just needed a moment to calm himself down, blow off some steam. But now it felt like his thoughts were getting worse-louder. It seemed that keeping his hands busy helped keep his mind clear of his more emotional thoughts. Of course it hurt him, to long for something he’s never had. He never thought that would be something he and Murderface connected over, the absence of their fathers. Even if they had different reasons, it was still a connection. Though he guessed that having just his mother was better than what their bassist had, considering he lost both that same day.

When he was in his most emotional state, his most vulnerable, he went against his better judgment and made a fathers day card. He had snuck into Toki’s room because he knew that he would have the most arts and crafts items he needed. The good kind of paper, crayons, scissors, you name it. He decided to just stay in there, rather than bring the items back to his own room. He couldn’t be bothered to sneak back over to bring the items back, but he also didn’t want to deal with Toki later when he realized items of his were missing. No matter what the situation, he would always blame Skwisgaar first. And he refused to ever let Toki be right about him once.

He was actually…enjoying himself? Yeah, he was enjoying this! Never again would he refuse to color or draw with Toki, he never realized this stuff was actually…fun! He grinned to himself, even if he still felt a little embarrassed. He didn’t care, at least not for right now. All that mattered was making his special card look nice and fancy, with all sorts of different colors and even some stickers he had found.

Though after a bit, when he got a look at the finished product, he did feel pretty embarrassed. Did he really plan on giving this to…no, he wasn’t sure he could bring himself to actually give this to him. What if he was laughed at? Yelled? Or even worse, it became some story that was told over dinner, at the parties they attended, so everyone could point and laugh at how gay Skwisgaar was, all because he was upset over not having a dad. So, he just brought it back to his room, tossing it onto his bed with an angry huff. He looked over to his guitar, where it lay across his bed. Not like he had anything better to do to let out every bottled up emotion he was feeling right now, he supposed.

So, Skwisgaar played for hours and hours, pouring his heart out onto each note, each riff he played. This was a side of him he didn’t really let out, his emotional side. But occasionally it came out, and this was one of those cases. He played until he noticed his fingers were bleeding onto his strings, which honestly caught him by surprise. He’d gone years without this happening, the calluses on his fingers had built up from decades of playing guitar. So for him to be playing to the point of his fingers finally bleeding…he at least knew it was time for him to stop, and maybe let out his emotions in a less…destructive way.

He sighed, holding his hands out in front of him as he trudged his way to William’s room. He was hoping to get some help in wrapping his fingers up, since after the first few would be bandaged and wrapped up, they’d be too thick and stubby for him to apply the creams and bandaging to the other fingers properly. And he really didn’t want some random klokateer to see him at his lowest so, why not ask a friend?

Though, after knocking a few times on the bass player’s door, he decided against his better judgment that he should just go ahead and open the door. Maybe it was nothing, but a small part of him told him to be worried. That maybe Murderface was doing worse today than he was. The room was definitely…quite the sight when he entered. William was seated on his bed, and he could see even from the doorway that his hand was bleeding pretty badly. He also noticed the broken glass scattered across the floor, so it was at least easy to find the culprit of the injury. Now, the hard part; getting an explanation out from Murderface.

Though he could focus on that later, he decided. Right now, what mattered was getting him the help he needed because by the looks of it, he’d been bleeding for a while. He pulled his phone out before sending a quick text to Charles, just telling him to hurry to Murderface’s room. He figured he didn’t need to add any context, though he decided to anyway. Maybe it made the situation worse, because all he wrote after was, ‘bleeding. Lots of blood’.

Even still, William hadn’t even noticed the Swede in his room. When he finally looked up, he let out a small sound of surprise. ‘When the hell did he get here?!’ Murderface cursed under his breath, scooting away when Skwisgaar tried to get closer. “Fuck off! I didn’t wanna be scheen like this- did you even knock?!” He was always this defensive, emotionless rock but this time he just…gave up. And he gave up pretty fast.

He was done with his hissy fit by the time Skwisgaar sat down besides him, his nose scunched up a little. “Ja, I dids knock. And you clearly didn’t hearsk me. What the hells. Moidaface? What you does to yourself?” He huffed, though he clearly cared. It was easy for the guitar god to not give a fuck about stuff, so for him to bother going out of his way for anything above the bare minimum, it was him showing his concern. William just sighed, looking down at his bloodied hand. “Juscht… got angry at some schtuff…threw a beer bottle- maybe two- and I didn’t wanna jusct…leave the glassch everywhere, you know? Schtarted to collect most of it but i knicked my hand pretty bad- right in my palm, big cut. Can’t get it to schtop bleeding, y’know?”

Not long after William revealed what happened, Charles came hurrying in with a first aid kit in hand. He was absolutely disheveled, his hair was a mess and his glasses were uneven. It seemed he really got here as fast as he could manage. He looked at the two of them, between Skwisgaar’s bloodied, cut open finger tips and William’s palm oozing blood, he didn’t know where to start. But quickly he reasoned with himself and realized that Murderface would need the care first, since it seemed he had been bleeding for much longer, and much more blood was coming out of him than Skwisgaar.

Charles was quick to bring out a clean gauze pad, taking the bloodied one from William’s hand. He frowned, watching as the other winced away from him. “I know, I’m sure it hurts…just keep still alright? It’ll clot up soon, bleeding will stop…you might need stitches, but we’ll ah, we’ll see okay?” William nodded, looking into his lap. He just felt embarrassed for Charles to see him like this. “You think you’re able to ah, tell me what happened? Up to you.” Murderface looked over to Skwisgaar, hoping he could give the explanation. The Swede nodded, looking over to their manager. “Moidaface was upset, he brokes da glass and wanted to cleans it up. Cuts his hand bad.” he hummed, hoping his explanation helped, even with his broken english.

Charles just nodded while he worked on the other's hand, offering a bit of a smile. “No worries, it’s ah, really not that bad. Blood will always make things…worse than they seem. I’ll see what I can do but you ah, may need stitches. Nothing’s confirmed, of course.” Though the mention of stitches alone were enough to worry the bassist, a feeling of dread washed over him. Did he fuck up that bad this time? He shuddered a bit, unintentionally pulling away from Charles. He mumbled an apology, not daring to look him even in the face. Charles sighed, looking at Murderface before glancing over at Skwisgaar. “So…what the hell happened, boys? This feels a little odd for similar things to be happening at once. I doubt this was planned, but it’s too much of a coincidence for these ah, events to not be related. So…spill. Doesn’t have to be right now, but I’m unfortunately not going to leave until I hear what caused something like this. You two both need your hands to perform, make a living. If something worse happened to the two of you what then? You get replaced? I assure you, no one wants you gone. Not your fans, not the rest of the band. No one.”

William still looked far too embarrassed to be speaking right now, so Skwisgaar decided to step up, yet again, for the moment. He just shrugged a little, looking down at his bloodied, cracked fingertips. He sighed, taking a moment longer so he could properly collect his thoughts, translate his sentence the best he could within his head. He liked to at least have an idea of what he wanted to say before he attempted to speak out loud. “Todays is just frustratinkgs, ja? It ams fathers day, and it…it ams weird, to be so angries, but I amnst not have a father. Nathans has his, and Toki and Pickle am with him. Their family ams dildos too, but they have fathers, at very least. Never exactly had that, don’t know what that ams feels like. Closest I have to father is…well, ams you.”

Charles was a little taken back at first, but he wasn’t shocked. Not even a little, if he had to be honest. He knew the band felt like this towards him, even if now was the first time a single member had actually admitted it, even if he didn’t fully want to. And while he felt like he should be celebrating, there was a more important matter at hand. And that matter was comforting Skwisgaar, because he desperately needed it. He offered a smile, before turning his attention back to Murderface, just so he can keep an eye on the wound.

“Well, I ah, can tell that took a lot to admit, yeah? But I appreciate your words, I do…they mean a lot more to me than I’m sure you realize. I see all of you as my boys, my children, in a sense. I try not to father you guys, or act like one that you ah, all tried to escape. Especially Pickles or Toki, seeing as they had the worst experiences. But when it comes to you, or ah, you William, or even Nathan- I-I get nervous, hah?” He forced a smile this time, pulling the gauze from the hand. “I think…we could get away with not stitching this, yeah? Just gotta keep it clean, medicated and wrapped up. Gotta make sure you clean the wrappings, let the wound breathe a little. It’ll just be another ah, scar to add on to your list. You can tell all the girls you got this in a bar fight- that you won, obviously.”

Still, William was quiet- and honestly, that silence was worrying Charles. He watched him just…waiting. Waiting to hear anything come from him, even one of his complaints or some kind of insult. He just wanted to know that he was actually okay. He wasn’t sure he could ever get William this quiet again, even if he paid him whatever he wanted.

Finally, he spoke up, though still he was much quieter than his usual self. “I…guessch I see you as a dad too, y’know? Itsch hard to really schay, considering I don’t really know if there’s much of a difference between a grandad or a real dad but- by my booksch, you’re a great dad.” It took him much longer than it should’ve to get his words out, but the entire thing was a lot for him;this was a lot for the two of them. The band has been working on this, but almost their entire career, they went by this ridiculous rule, about not caring about each other. But he knew it was pointless. He knew that the whole band cared for one another, and it unfortunately only came out for good when Toki was taken from them.

The room fell into a silence, though it was hard to decipher if it was a comfortable or uncomfortable one. Charles continued to work away on wrapping up Murderface’s hand, making sure to be as careful as he could manage. He couldn’t hold back some times, since he had to make sure the wound was properly medicated and wrapped, but he was gentle as he could manage. After quite some time, it was Murderface who spoke first.

“Uhm…thanksch though, for wrapping my hand- probably would’ve had it get infected if it wasch up to me but hey-infections are more badassch.” He forced a bit of a laugh, though it was clear he was being serious. The fact Charles came running down when he was told what was happening. The fact that he actually cared about him, it was enough to bring him to tears. He knew the band cared about him in some weird, fucked up way. But Charles? Charles didn’t have to care about him. But he did, he cared about him and the rest of them like his own kids, and it gave William a fuzzy feeling inside. To be considered someone’s kid? Fuck, he’s never been told that. He’s always been a grandkid, a nephew. Never someones real son, not until now at least.

Charles just gave a simple nod, though the words meant a lot to him, especially since they were coming from William. It’s why he tried to not make a big deal of his comment,though in reality he was freaking out on the inside. It was nice, to actually know that the others cared for him like he cared for them. That his years of dedication didn't get wasted. Though even if they all didn't reciprocate, he still wouldn't think of it as a waste. As long as they’re cared for, that's all that matters.

And now, he could focus on a more pressing subject; how the fuck did Skwisgaar get his fingers to bleed? He’d imagined the callouses on his fingers were years old, he'd never even heard a complaint of his fingers hurting from guitar, let alone the strings cutting his fingers. So that brings up his second question- just how intensely was he playing?

He turned his attention to Skwisgaar, offering a nervous smile before he asked. “I ah, can see your fingers are bleeding. How’d you uh, cut yourself? Lemme see your hands, please.” He held his hands out in front of Skwisgaar, waiting for the other to set his hands down into his own. The guitarist obliged, settling his hands down right into Charles’. The manager looked over his fingers intently, glad to know that they were small cuts, at the very least. Nothing they would need to fret about. the band would live to see another tour; hopefully.

Skwisgaar stayed quiet for a while before huffing a bit, shrugging a little while he let Charles looked over his small injury. “Just gots…really into mine playings, ja know? Wasn’t paying attentions to nothing just…my music, hows I sounded. How I coulds play even betters than befores. I haves to be betters, because if I’m not then I ams…nothing.”

Charles was a little taken back by his comments; was that really how he viewed himself? He had to constantly be improving because if he didn’t, then why bother? Just the thought of that hurt him. He sighed, still holding onto hands carefully, helping to clean the now dried up blood from his finger and under his fingernails. He was careful in all his actons, not wanting to accidentally hurt him further. “Well, if it’s any help, I ah, don’t think of you like that. You’re the worlds best guitar player already, so you’re only trying to compete with ah, with yourself. And that’s not a battle a lot of people win. We all think you play amazing, Skwisgaar. Me, the band, and the world. Just try and take it easy for a couple of days, right? You don’t wanna make your fingers any worse than they are now.”

Skwisgaar was silent, though after a moment, Charles heard some quiet sniffles in the bedroom and Skwisgaar…was he trembling? Charles and even Murderface leaned down a little, trying to get a proper look at the guitarist. Both men were taken back when they realized he was crying. Charles was worried, and William was absolutely panicking. He jumped up and was scrambling to get stuff together for Skwisgaar, though before he could get too far, Charles grabbed onto his wrist carefully. “stop, you’ll freak him out more. just relax, the two of you.” Charles had Murderface sit back down on his bed, turning back to the Swiss. “there’s a lot of emotions all over the place, because of ah, today. It doesn’t take a genius to know that most of the band doesn’t really enjoy today very much. But I’m here, and I won’t be leaving. So how about we…watch those horror movies you like and eat ah, shitty food?”

Even with Skwisgaar crying, he could see their faces light up. It at least made him feel good that they were actually excited for the plans and idea Charles put out there. The fact they actually wanted to spend their time off with him, especially today. He gathered up all of the medical supplies, checking on both of their injuries one last time before he decided they would be perfectly fine if he put this back in his office

Charles got the supplies settled in his office and met the others in the living room. They thankfully still had the house to themselves, since Nathan and the others would be away at his parents for quite some time. Nathan always liked spending a few days there when he went and visited them. So there was at least no fear of embarrassment or shame in case the remaining members of the band happened to walk in on the three of them.

Though he wasn’t prepared for the sight he walked in on; William and Skwisgaar leaning into each other, arms wrapped around each other with a blanket. He was thankful that after the end of the world nonsense, that they had all come to terms with how much they meant to one another. That they were all a little more comfortable with their emotions. Not entirely, but any improvement is worthwhile, according to Charles. And again, he tried to keep calm about it, though how could he not feel at least a little excited? He let a small chuckle past his lips, watching as the two of them sort of shuffled around, feeling slightly embarrassed now that they were being watched. “No, no you guys are fine. You look comfortable, you can ah, stay like that if you like.”

Though still, Skwisgaar’s look of embarrassment stayed on his face. He shot up from the couch, looking at the floor anxiously before looking up with a huff. “I’ll…be rights back. I thinks I am…left a light on in mines room. bes…right back!” And with that, he took off back to his bedroom, leaving Charles in the living room with William. He got settled on the couch next to him before handing the remote off off to the bassist, wanting him to know that he and Skwisgaar were the ones picking the movie,not himself. He wasn’t a big fan of the horror movies that he knew the two liked,but he would endure it if it meant they would cheer up. He’d do anything for his boys, always.

They waited, with William resting his head against Charles’ shoulder gently, scrolling through his phone mindlessly while occasionally showing Charles a stupid photo he’d find. As silly as this all was, he adored moments like these. He knew he didn’t need to be so busy, he could have so many men do the job he took on. He wanted to get better at that, though. Be more willing to relax because he knew the band needed it, needed him. He planned on doing better for their sake.

After what felt like forever, Skwisgaar finally returned. Charles looked up and smiled at him, hoping to ease some nerves he could tell the other had. He waited, watching the floor as the other slowly made his way closer to their manager. With no warning, a card was tossed into his lap, with scribbly but nice writing. it said ‘happe fathors day’, and it was signed at the bottom ‘from Skwisgaar.’ Charles grinned, holding the card carefully in his hands. He opened the card up gently, as if it was made of glass. He treated it like if he made one wrong move, it would be destroyed;ruined. He looked inside, and now he was the one fighting back tears. It was a drawing with all of them, they were all holding hands, and the six of them had a heart drawn visibly on their chests. Even little details stood out to him, like Toki having his insulin bag, and Nathan with a bottle of Xanax sticking out of his pocket. He held a hand over his mouth, trying to stop any pitiful sound from escaping.

“if ugh, you ams not happy with it, I can has toki draw something betters for you-” Charles looked up at him with a grin, shaking his head. “No- no I ah, I really enjoy this. I actually love this, Skwisgaar. You really made this just for me?” He looked up at him, grinning with teary eyes. He nodded, stuffing his hands into his pocket nervously, messing with a thread he felt by the seam. He didn’t like it when he didn’t have his guitar, he used hand movements to keep his anxiety at bay. He always needed to be moving his hands, his fingers. When he didn’t, it drove him mad. “Well it’s…it’s really nice. I ah, really do love this you know. I’ll find a spot to display it in my office, if that’s okay with you.”

The other thought about it for a moment before nodding, managing a small smile. “Ja that’s…that’s am fine with me.”

Finally Skwisgaar got settled in, sitting on the other side of Charles. Both William and Skwisgaar had their heads against his shoulders, hugging onto his arms while they watched their disgustingly bloody movies. He had a klokateer drop of food for them, because when he tried to get up and do it, they both held onto him tighter, whining and complaining.

They watched movies throughout the night, though Charles fell asleep throughout most of them. He really only woke up to calm them back down, falling asleep until the next time they made it known that they needed him. It was tiring, but it was a comforting feeling, for him to know that they relied on him so much. He woke back up one last time, to them all laying together in the living room. Skwisgaar was laying on top of him, while Murderface was tucked into Charles’ side, arms wrapping around his midsection.

He knew he was bound to wake up with an ache in his back, and most likely his neck,
but oh well. He’d live with that pain for the rest of his life if it meant his boys were happy.

Chapter Text

Now, Pickles was no stranger to the world of substance abuse. Hell, he wasn’t sure when the last time he wasn’t either drunk or high was. Usually he’d give himself small breaks in-between, to help his tolerance. He only really needed a day or two to get back on track with himself. But right now, he was not giving himself that break.

He’d just come back from a weekend visit to his parents, even after the entire band told him to just not even bother. The one who was the most confused on why he kept going was Nathan. He’d told Pickles before that his own parents were more than willing to be there for the Drummer just like his own parents; they loved him! And as much as he loved that idea, it wasn’t the same. Why couldn’t his own parents give that much of a damn about him?

So, he drank and he snorted and he ingested anything he could find in his room. He didn’t care how it would leave him feeling in the end, he just wanted to feel…numb. He didn’t wanna think about his mom, his father, or his fucking excuse of a brother. Just thinking about Seth left a bitter taste in his mouth…or maybe that was the pills he swallowed with Vodka…nah, definitely Seth.

And of course, the inevitable happened; he ran out of drugs and he had gone through every single bottle he had lying around. Even he didn’t have a bottomless supply of substances. Sure, he could have a klokateer bring him more, but in order to do that, he had to be able to form a real sentence. His mind was far too gone for him to even attempt that. He had tried, but all he did was mumble and slur into his intercom, and not even the rest of the band could interpret for their servants. So, he laid in bed, stuck listening to his own thoughts.

Maybe a full two days later, he finally came down from his high, and it was not gentle. His body absolutely ached, his head was pounding in his skull. Blame it on his fucking family to make him have the worst hangover he’s ever had in years. Typical, he thought.

He came wobbling out of his room, his legs hurting far too much for him to be able to force himself to walk normally. He eventually made it to his destination; Charles’ bedroom. He had no idea what time it was, but in his mind, it was night time. He knocked against the door with the backs of his knuckles, whining softly when he got no response. He leaned himself against the door, slowly sliding down to the floor. He wasn’t sure how long he was gonna have to wait for Charles, but he was prepared to be there all day if he had to. He just needed him.

It took a couple of hours, but eventually Charles finished up the work he was doing in his office. It was nearly 7'o clock when he was ready to get himself prepared for bed, jumping up when he saw a half asleep Pickles laying against his bedroom door. Fuck, he could tell he was not doing well. He was shivering horribly, he had bags under his eyes and he just looked…exhausted. He stepped over, kneeling down in front of the drummer.

“Now…you know you could’ve come into the office right? Would’ve ah, finished up my work a lot faster for you. C’mon, now…” He helped Pickles stand himself back up, leading him into his room. He was quick to get him situated on the bed, covering him up with his blankets. “Just ah, make yourself comfortable. I’ll get you some…some dinner. I’ll uh, make sure it’s nothing too heavy on your stomach.”

Pickles didn’t object, he was almost weightless when Charles had lifted him up. How was he so light? He huffed a little, not liking the thought of the other being underweight. He’d have to work on getting the other to eat some more, he supposed. Speaking of, he was pulled from his mess of a mind when he heard Pickles calling for him, or trying to at least. His speech was slurred, but thankfully Charles was able to decipher his words. For the most part, at least. His sentences were full of slurred words and mumbles, all mixed together with whines. Pickles was pretty whiny when coming down from his highs.

“I’m ah, I’m right here, Pickles. Let me get you some water. Then I can uh, relax with you, okay? Just relax…” He patted his cheek gently, helping him get a bit more situated in bed. He went into his mini fridge and got him a bottle of water, turning the cap for him but not fully opening it. He wanted Pickles to feel like he was capable of doing something, since he figured he knew the root of the man’s problems. He wished he didn’t know, but it was his job to know these things. Whether he actually wanted to or not.

He got the water over to Pickles, making sure he had a good hold on the bottle before he let go. He went over to his dresser to grab himself some proper clothing for bed, since he refused to get himself comfortable in his stuffy suit. He got himself undressed, pulling over a pair of sweatpants and a plain white T-shirt, making his way back over to Pickles. “Here, see? Didn’t need to wait very long. Now you ah, relax okay? Leave it all to me.” He watched as Pickles nodded, taking small sips from the bottle.

It was quiet for a while, which concerned Charles greatly. Pickles was loud and talkative, always sharing different stories or jokes to fill the silence. The fact he wanted the silence? It was troubling. Charles made sure to keep a good eye on him, he didn’t want to neglect him. The last thing he wanted to do was add on to the problems he knew he was already having. Though in one moment, Pickles was fine, and the next moment he looked over at him, he had tears rolling down his face. It was impressive, how each of the boys held their emotions till the very end, right to their breaking points.

Charles moved closer to him, though he was careful in his movements. He didn’t intend on startling Pickles to the point of being pushed away. But he planned on getting to the bottom of this, even if he knew the reasoning behind this all. “Hey, hey…you can ah, you can talk to me. I’ll always listen to you Pickles. C’mon, lay it on me.” He offered a small smile, nudging him gently. The drummer just looked at him and sniffled, he was silent for now. It was going to take a bit more for him to build up trust. Sober Pickles and intoxicated Pickles were very different from each other, as Charles has noticed.

So, he decided to wait it out a little. He had all the time in the world for Pickles, and he wanted that known. He was sure the other was anticipating being rushed and yelled at to just let it out, as his family has done his entire life. But not Charles, never. So, he went ahead and turned his television on, skimming through the channels. He glanced over at the drummer, humming slightly. “How about you ah, snap when you spot something you want me to stop on. Alright?” He watched as he nodded, and he was glad the other was at least listening to him. It would be a whole other issue if he was dissociating.

It took a few minutes, but eventually Charles landed on a cooking show. He was ready to flip to a new channel before he heard a few quiet snaps coming from beside him. He looked over, smiling at the other. “Alright, this one it is. Let me know if you want this changed after a little bit.” He watched as Pickles nodded, managing to relax into the bed a little bit more. He at least didn’t seem as tense and on alert as he had been a few moments ago. He patted the other's leg gently, folding his own arms over his chest.

It took Pickles maybe another half an hour before he felt confident enough to actually speak to Charles. A shaky sigh was heard before he decided to be brave enough to actually talk about his problems. “I…’m just tired a’ being the joke of ma family, Charlie…” He sighed, sniffling a little as he wiped his tears away with his hand, looking down into his lap sadly. “ ‘m in da biggest band in the world! But somehow, Seth is just so much bettar!” He grumbled and hit at the bed, flinching a little before glancing at Charles. “Sahry…didn’t mean to hit ya bed.” He spoke softly, not wanting Charles to snap at him. The manager just nodded, wanting him to continue on with his rant. He wanted him to get his emotions out. He wouldn’t care if he needed to stab at his bed, like how William was with his furniture. If it helped get his emotions out, to hell with it.

Pickles was collecting his thoughts once again, trying to keep his emotions at bay, because he really didn’t want to be much more of a mess than he already was in front of Charles. He looked up to him, and if he was like any of the other men he looked up to, he wouldn’t tolerate this behavior. But he did, and he wanted to prove to him he was better than this. That he wasn’t some privileged crybaby. He just sniffled, rubbing his nose against his wrist before he was offered tissues from Charles. He gratefully took it from him, wiping his eyes and blowing his nose. It took a few moments, and a lot of trust, but eventually he went and leaned against Charles' shoulder. He sniffled, his body tensing as Charles wrapped an arm around him loosely, though he held onto him well. He didn't want to hold too tightly, then the other would feel as if he was trapped in his hold. Pickles was very much like a scared animal when he had moments like these. And if Charles were to hold onto him tightly, he was sure the other would freak out on him.

Though, to Charles’ surprise, Pickles had begun to hold onto him tighter; his arms wrapped tightly around his torso, the side of his face smushed into his shoulder. The CFO adjusted them both just slightly, laying himself back on his bed and having Pickles lay himself on half of Charles- it was more comfortable on his back, if he was being honest.

The drummer was a bit weary with all the adjusting and movement at first, but eventually he realized what he was trying to do before he relaxed once again, his eyes closing slowly. He would occasionally sniffle, or his body would shudder. Just involuntary nervous tics his body was doing. It was silent, but a comfortable silence nonetheless. Pickles was the first to speak up, much to Charles’ surprise. “They…shouldn't get ta me so bad, Charlie….’ut they fookin’ do! They…just know how ta get under mah skin...” He made a small noise, and honestly it left him feeling pathetic. Just like how his family left him feeling; pathetic and weak.

“They know what ah, what buttons to push, Pickles…and it's going to be a challenge, it uh…well, it's the worst feeling. I will never push you like they…uh, like they do. You're perfect the way you are, Pickles.” He looked down at the male, his hand idly rubbing over his back. He wanted to just take away this poor man's problems. He would take all of them away if he physically could. Well, he could make it stop if he wished, but Pickles refused to hurt his family. He respected his choices, but he definitely would've taken care of this problem for Pickles’ much sooner.

Again they sat in a comfortable silence, the two men comforting the other. Maybe Pickles didn't realize it, but it meant a lot to Charles that him or any of his boys came to him for any of these issues. Sure, they probably felt like burdens- but Charles needed this. It helped him feel…normal. It helped him feel like he had a life outside of his work, that he truly meant something to them. He sighed softly, though he grimaced when the other tensed in his arms. “Ah, sorry- just something I do to relax my brain… I'm not mad at you, I never will be.” He nudged his forehead against the top of Pickles’ head, his eyes closing for a moment.

The drummer just nodded, pressing his head up into Charles’ forehead once he felt him so close. “Think…ya could call for uhm…sum food? I was…pukin’ my guts up earlier, Charlie. ‘m starvin, here! Wastin’ away as we speak!” He managed a small laugh, there was the slightest sparkle in his eyes. Finally, some bit of Pickles was coming back to him.

The other nodded, digging around in his pocket to grab hold of his phone- for how pointy those damn things are, they sure did get lost in your pockets. He hummed softly as he started to dial on his phone, calling for one of their klokateers to start bringing them up food, making sure to reinforce the urgency in the matter. The Klokateer took the obvious hint, rushing to get their food together. No one wanted to deal with an angry Charles; that was practically Hell on Earth.

It didn't take much longer, though to Pickles it took damn near eternity. He whined a bit, nudging himself against Charles. The other just nodded, patting his head sympathetically. “ I know, it'll just be a uh, another moment. Promise.” The drummer just nodded, his gaze turning to the television. It was a decent enough distraction from his growing hunger.

True to his word, a klokateer arrived shortly; well, a few of them had actually arrived. There was far too much food for it to be carried efficiently by one of them, it seemed. Charles hummed softly, thanking them before sending them on their way. “it's…a lot of food, Charlie…” Pickles spoke softly, looking over how much food had been dropped off. Charles nodded, smiling softly at the other. “It is, it's why I was uh, hoping I could invite some…others, to help us ah, finish. That's if you want them to, of course.”

It took a moment for Pickles to understand what Charles was insinuating, but he finally got the hint- he wanted to know if Pickles wanted the rest of the band to join, if he felt comfortable with the idea. He actually quite liked the idea…they helped him feel normal, like himself. To his band, he wasn't some disappointment. He was just….Pickles, the drummer. And he liked it that way. He also knew Toki would bombard him with a hug, and a hug from Toki could solve almost any problem he had.

He blinked a few times, looking at Charles. He realized he'd been thinking about this for a little too long. He nodded quickly, managing a crooked smile. “Yeah…sounds like a good plan ta me, Charlie.” He hummed, fixing his dreads slightly. He sat himself back against the bed, watching as the CFO got back on his phone, sending a series of texts rapid fire.

Within a few moments, the rest of the band was all piling in through Charles’ bedroom door. And just like Pickles thought, Toki was quick to wrap his arms around the drummer. He held onto him tightly, squeezing as much as he physically could- which was pretty tight. Pickles huffed, hugging him back with a breathless laugh- it was breathless cause all the air was being squeezed out of him, afterall.

“Toki- bud, lemme breathe real quick-” The Norwegian was quick to let him go, worried he would hurt him. Pickles just laughed softly, huffing as he regained his breath. “Yer okay…’m fine, see?” The rest of the band was either sitting on the bed or around the floor, talking amongst themselves. Pickles hummed softly, observing everyone with a smile. He was glad that he had them all. Don't get him started; they were idiots, all of them were.

But they were his idiots, and that's all that mattered.

Chapter Text

Now, it wasn’t uncommon for days to go by without the band members speaking to each other, let alone SEEING each other. If they didn’t have plans, practice, or concerts, they tended to go off and do their own thing, more often than not. Sure, after their little run in with the whole ‘end of the world’ they had started to be around each other more. But they all still enjoyed their moments of solitude.

So, for William to not show his face for a few days, no one seemed shocked at first. But then a week passed, still no Murderface. Then another week…and everyone was worried. They were messaging him, calling him;nothing. Each band member was trying to recall the last they’d seen him, all truly unsure of when the last time they saw his face was. The band was worried, and that meant Charles was panicking. Did he happen to sneak out and get himself into trouble? He wasn’t prepared for another kidnapping, but he would be damned if he lost one of his boys for good.

He gathered up all of his best men, conferring with them on where the hell their prized bassist could be. They had footage pulled up on his last whereabouts at Mordhaus, his last actual known errands he had run; everything. They needed to check all bases for them to start this search off properly. Charles was not going to let this be prolonged; he was not going to have him wait as long as Toki did to be saved.

Though very soon into his search for Murderface, Charles was confused. When they had begun to track his Dethphone, a discovery was made. The tracking signal was coming from inside Mordhaus, of all places. Did he happen to leave his phone here? He wasn’t sure. He decided to at least check his bedroom- it couldn’t hurt to check all the boxes, after all.

He made his way to the bassist’s room, taking a few deep breaths. He wasn’t sure if he’d be angry or relieved if he happened to find William in his room still, hiding away this entire time. He decided to find out based on how he found him- if he found him, of course. He stopped just in front of the door, sighing softly. He left a few firm knocks to the door, humming a bit. “It’s ah, it’s me, William…you think you could open up?” He stared at the door; there was complete silence. He felt silly, talking to this door with the possibility that no one was behind it.

He dug around in his pockets for a moment, taking out a keyring. It had a few different keys on it, all in a different color. He pulled out the deep brass colored key and got it in the lock, turning it swiftly. “Alright, if you uh, happen to be in here I hope you’re ah, decent! I gave you a fair warning.” After another moment, he entered the room, shutting the door softly behind him. His eyes darted around the room, looking for anything. His eyes quickly landed on what he assumed his target was.

In the middle of the rather large bed, there was a lump underneath the pile of blankets. He sighed softly, finally able to breathe now that he knew Murderface was in fact, safe and sound. But now he had a whole new thing to worry about- it didn’t take a genius to know that Murderface was hurting. He took a few small steps over, sitting himself on the corner of his bed. “It’s…it’s just me, William…no one else, you can talk to me, right? I’ll always listen. C’mon, ah…lay it on me, hm?”

And for a while, it was just silence that fell over the room. The only noise would be quiet sniffles from William, the occasional groan. But Charles didn’t mind the wait- he would wait here for as long as it took, just to make sure William was okay. He worried about him heavily.

It took quite some time but finally, the silence was broken with words, and they weren’t coming from Charles. William remained under the blanket, so his words were quite muffled, “My…grandfather he…he passched away uhm…fuck, 2 weeksch ago now…I…he wasch the only family member I actually liked, cared for and he…He’sch gone- I wasn’t even told immediately! He died… what, maybe a month ago? H-he died and the funeral already happened and I wasn’t even told!”

Another sob wracked through William, and then he was silent again. He curled up tighter, gripping onto the blankets with every bit of force he could muster. Charles stayed silent, looking at him solemnly. He let out a sigh before he reached a hand out, settling it on his back gently. He saw him flinch back slightly when the hand was settled, but after a moment he seemed to relax. “I’m…I’m so sorry, William…I haven’t ah, lost someone in quite some time…but I know the pain. And I wish I could take all of that away from you…and I’m sorry I can’t. Have you even eaten? Showered? I’m sure a bath would be uh, lovely right now…you want me to ah, get one going for you?”

William was silent still, before a gruff hum was heard. The idea of a bath really was nice, after all. He knew he was gross, but at the start of this all he really did try to take care of himself a little. He just went further down a spiral that he couldn’t get himself out of, not by himself at least. He continued to just lay there, enjoying the motion of Charles rubbing over his back gently. He held back a small noise of protest when he felt Charles pull his hands away, pulling the blankets down just slightly.

“I’ll get that bath going and in the meantime I can uh, tidy up a little in here, alright? And get some food dropped off…you’ve got to be starving, I’m sure.” He offered the other a smile before he walked off to the other’s bathroom, getting to work on getting a bath started for the other. He wanted this to be a good experience, something calming for the other. God knows he needed it right now. He got himself to work, getting the hot water running while he helped tidy up some of the bathroom; pick up some stray clothes, toss out whatever trash he happened to see. He didn’t want William to feel bad for how things got- it was understandable during a time like this. He could understand the pain of not even wanting to do basic tasks, it became an after thought during grief. He would never shame someone for that.

After a few long moments he got the bath set up nicely, making sure to get the soaps, lighting, and even some candles set up. Sure, he figured Murderface would have some kind of comment to say- but he knew deep down he would appreciate this. He made his way back out to the other’s bedroom, sitting himself back on the corner of the bed. “C’mon, it’s just about ready…can you ah, walk on your own?” He listened to the small hum he heard, and he watched the blankets shift after a few short moments. The other finally emerged, his eyes red and still wet with unshed tears. He had tear tracks on his face, his nose and cheeks a rosy pink color from the agitation . He could even see his nose was wet with snot- he could tell he was hurting. “I…I know, William- let’s go…a bath will make it feel a little better, got it?”

He helped the other get out of the bed, leading him to the bathroom with a small hum. He even had clean clothes set up for him, set up on the bathroom counter and folded neatly. He watched as William stopped in his tracks, his eyes flickering across the bathroom slowly. A sniffle was heard from Murderface, who just nodded a little bit and stayed standing there, hoping Charles would take the hint to leave him be for a little bit. He greatly appreciated him, but he didn’t want him to see him, not like this. Not while he was on the brink of tears all over again because ‘Oh my god, this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me-.’ Murderface just needed some time to himself, that way he could cry in peace. But he hoped that Charles knew that he appreciated this greatly.

Indeed, Charles was able to take the hint clearly. He left with a small hum, closing the door behind him as he left William to bathe on his own, looking around the bedroom. For how messy he normally was, this wasn’t bad for William. But he knew the energy of the space was also affecting how he felt, even if he didn’t realize it. He called for a cleaning crew to come urgently, as well as calling for their chefs to get food brought up as soon as they could. He needed this to be done correctly, of course.

The cleaning crew arrived first, which was to be expected. They got to work on the room- changing the bedding out, fluffing up the pillows, dusting and vacuuming; everything. They didn’t leave one inch of the room untouched or uncleaned, which was just what Charles wanted. But he also had them set certain things back exactly as they were. Like certain clothes, or his figurines or any of his expensive history memorabilia. He knew just how important it was to not bring about too drastic of a change- he didn’t need William to be overwhelmed any more than he already was right now.

Once everything was done, Charles could finally feel a bit more relieved about all of this. The room looked and felt fresh and clean, and with the help of a few scented candles it made it feel just that little bit more cozy. He was worried if he overdid it just a tad, but he would definitely hear about it once William came back from his bath. Which speaking of…he could only worry about how he was doing in there. It was dead silent the whole time, he couldn’t even hear any cries or sniffles. He hoped he wasn’t holding it in because he was in the room still.

Charles stayed sat on the corner of William’s bed, either staring at the bathroom door or down at his phone. His leg was bouncing, which was the only indication of his slight stress. He usually did his best to present himself as calm, cool and collected but when it came to his boys…that’s when managing the stress got tricky. He had too many of his emotions put into this line of work, so when something like this happened- his whole brain felt out of wack.

After what felt like eternity, William finally made his appearance. He opened the bathroom door up slowly, still drying his hair with a small groan. He blinked a few times, his eyes flickering across his now clean room. He bit at the inside of his cheek for a few moments, tossing the now used up towel into the hamper he kept next to the bathroom door- which, to his surprise, was now empty. He stayed frozen for a bit, his hands fumbling around each other as he rubbed at one of his palms with the opposite thumb- a nervous habit of his that he has yet to break. It was thankfully one of his harmless ones, so he was trying to be better.

“You…did all thisch…for me?” He was almost inaudible, he honestly wasn’t even sure if he said it outloud or if he kept the thought in his head. He just kept looking all around his room, feeling the build up of new emotions hit him like a truck. He honestly felt like a deer in headlights right now, just in…awe. He thought the room looked amazing, and maybe part of him shouldn’t have been this shocked that Charles did this for him, but still…he found it hard to believe that anyone wanted to do anything for him.

He started to actually walk further into his room, walking to one of his memorabilia display cases. He stared at the objects inside, noticing how they looked cleaner- how the actual shelves were dusted and spotless. He rubbed at his eyes, which were still red and puffy from his weeks of crying his heart out. “It…looksch amazing in here I’m…fuck- I can’t even try to be mean…” he rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly, huffing a bit. This was tricky for William, not because he didn’t appreciate it, but because he didn’t really understand how to show his appreciation. He was a very rough man, always had been. To be so open and vulnerable like this…it scared him deeply.

Charles just offered a smile and nodded, humming softly. “I’m glad you think so…I didn’t want to ah, change too much in here. I wanted to keep it feeling like your room, hm? Here, let me get up-” He got himself up from the bed, gesturing for William to return to the bed instead. He helped lead him over, gently pulling up the clean covers for him, making sure he was well covered and comfortable. “Now…I have dinner on it’s way shortly, alright? I’m sure eating sounds uh, like the trickiest thing right now, but it’s important that you eat. I have ah, no idea when the last you ate was. So we’ll start fresh by making sure you eat now, hm?”

Indeed, the idea sounded like the scariest thing in the world to William right now- but he knew he had to start back up with eating again. Him not eating for so long didn’t leave him skinny, but he could definitely tell he lost a few pounds- and while he had body issues, he didn’t really like knowing that him starving himself was having it’s effects. Truthfully, not even he knew when the last time he ate was. But it’s not like he was about to go tell Charles that- he didn’t want to see him freak out over him more than he already was at the moment.

He stayed like that for a good moment, jolting up when the comfortable silence was broken by Charles- well, not really him, but William’s television. Charles had put one of Murderface’s documentaries on, and it just happened to be one of his favorites; it was actually one of the first ones he had watched with his grandfather. He managed a sad smile, tears accumulating in his eyes once more. Of course, Charles initially had freaked out, trying to go and shut it. “No! No it’s…thisch isch a good one…I-I watched thisch one a lot with him, actually…” he sighed softly, rubbing at his watery eyes for what felt like the billionth time, his gaze focused on the tv. He often didn’t like indulging in anything regarding his feelings…but this felt good. It was nice to have a good memory of his grandfather back, to replace all the pain and hurt he’s been feeling these past couple of weeks. Charles truly couldn’t imagine how much hurt the poor bassist was going through

Charles was characteristically quiet, watching William with a sad fondness in his eyes. He knew this was a lot for him to handle, but the fact that he didn’t immediately push him away meant he was especially hurting deep inside- he wanted to do the best he could to alleviate some of that pain. Both of them jumped when they heard a few quick, short knocks at the door, Charles sighing softly when he realized what it was. “Just dinner- let me ah, grab that.” He stood up and brushed his hands over his pants, fixing any creases or folds that may have appeared from him being seated for so long. He hummed, opening the door so he could allow the klokateer in and have them set the food down. It was all sorts of food, all kinds he knew that William would like- he wanted him to have something he could enjoy.

William froze, just…staring at all the food that was occupying his room. Was this really all for him? Charles noticed the hesitation, offering a small smile. “Just eat whatever you ah, feel comfortable with right now…but I at least want to see you eat a little bit, okay? I need to know you at least ate something with me.” He hoped that wasn’t too much to ask of him right now- he cared for William deeply, and he wanted the peace of mind knowing that he ate, even if all he had was a snack. It was far better than nothing.

Murderface stared at the food for good while before he grabbed two plates- offering the first one he had grabbed to Charles. “Only if you erm…join me…? Eating alone makes me feel awkward! I’d also feel…bad if only I ate-” he huffed, quickly handing the plate off to Charles before anything else was said. William was raised awkward when it came to his feelings, but he really did want to improve, and not be scared to show that he cared. Charles just smiled and nodded, standing up so he could also grab something simple to eat. He himself wasn’t very hungry, but if it got Murderface to eat, so be it.

They both grabbed some food, and they both sat back down in his bed. Somehow, William ended up pressed into Charles' side, curled into him comfortably. He’s never been so…comfortable before! It was nerve wracking, sure- but he could feel all the bad thoughts melt away, all because Charles was here, right by his side

The only time he really ever felt like a man was moments like these, when he could actually be vulnerable

He secretly wished more moments like this would come his way- not like he would tell anyone that, of course.