Chapter Text
Getting accustomed to his older brother's presence was all that Kristian didn't want to experience once again. It inevitably brought up the acrid competition that was exhausting him for nothing because he knew he couldn't win no matter how hard he tried. Yet he still felt pushed to try and try.
In brief moments of clarity within the deep sea of self-loathing, he found a way in which he could use his sibling's visit as an opportunity to start adding bricks to the wall of unconfirmed independence he was building. If there was one way in which his competitor could be useful, it was by teaching him a useful skill that would serve him a lifetime once mastered. But asking nicely for a favour didn't come easily, he would practically have to pull the words out of his mouth like teeth with a plier. The loss of dignity and inferior position that cost him to ask his brother if he could teach him how to drive was one of the worst feelings he had to live through. But he did it anyway, the will to extend his autonomy growing alarmingly fast lately.
'Are you busy now?'
He stepped out of the house as soon as his older sibling finished shovelling the snow off the driveway to jump at the lucky chance. The modest tone in which he asked the question made him crawl out of his skin.
'No, why?' The oldest replies, absentminded. 'What do you want?'
The voice was light but it didn't omit a small ounce of hostility. It was the same as it's always been.
'I want to learn how to drive. Do you think you can help me with that?' The youngest bit his inner cheek hard at the helplessness he had to fake. He knew that if he didn't play his cards right, there was no way he would succeed.
'What? Are you being serious?' The other questioned, slightly amused and surprised.
'Yeah, I know I can't get my license until I'm 18, but I thought the earlier I start, the easier it will be later' the excuse was offered. 'Right?'
'Yeah, but you're wasting your time starting this early, you know?'
'I don't think so. I wanted to ask you about that for a while now. Too bad you weren't home' He lied, trying his best to remain patient in front of his brother.
'Alright' the oldest shrugged and pulled the shovel aside. 'But it's going to take a while until the engine warms up'
'Not a problem. I have all day'
He was in awe to see how effortlessly the other agreed and got into the passenger seat after a few salty jokes about doubting his reaction competence.
Their mother got a glimpse of them from the window, enjoying the simple fact that her beloved children were spending time together after so much time of bickering with one another, unaware of her youngest son's hidden agenda.
The ignorance that's been put on Kristian only increased to the point of being blatantly obvious that his own parent was treating him like this to teach him a harsh lesson. Who was there to say that if he disobeyed and oldest treasure on a pedestal, would ring a bell in the youngest's head, waking him up into the reliable young man that she wanted him to be.
To get revenge on her own child was her twisted way of making it known that she was still a godlike being with infinite power within the family.
Naturally, Kristian understood only what he was shown and dragged his own pessimistic conclusions out of it. Conclusions that had been approached before, rendering his mother's perfidious behavior absolute no novelty.
His only way out was literally out of the door. After all, he preferred to be somewhere else than between those white walls anytime he could, as much as he could, day or night.
---
'Alright, so, tomorrow we meet at 5 at my place. You guys bring the drinks and weed and whatever you want but don't fucking destroy my house, got that?'
Jan warmed, half joking half being dead-serious while the others were talking over one another about how epic they hoped the New Year’s Eve would be.
'How could we?' Olve asked rhetorically before turning to shake hands with their latest group addition that just stepped out of the bus. 'Oh, guten tag, Tore. Guten tag'
The other metalhead giggled lazily. 'Hey, man. How's it going? Still figuring out where to throw the damn party?'
'Not anymore. Padden just saved the day' the bassist was excited to announce.
'My folks agreed at the last moment to rent a cabin in Sogn for tomorrow. I don't even fucking know how they managed to find something available, but who cares? I'll be home alone on New Year's Eve and I can't fucking wait for it' Jan explained, excitingly.
'How wholesome, so it looks like we don't have to pay through the nose for that bash in Hulen' Tore commented hopefully.
The new guy wasn't new at all, but yet another childhood friend of Olve and Jan. A fellow who went to school with them and ended up as a guitarist in miscellaneous, local bands before he had a chance to be in Old Funeral. It was lately that he found time to catch up with his peers.
Personality wise, he was the only guitarist Kristian met that had the native laziness and unreliability of a basic bass player. He could almost compare him to Olve if Olve wasn't a hectic mess day and night.
The abandoned boarding school seemed even more lifeless with the pure snow creeping in from broken windows, but it was their favourite place to hang out.
'Hey, Kris. You didn't say much about your plans on tomorrow's night. You're coming, right?' Harald asked curiously, bringing everyone's attention to the rhythm guitarist.
'Uh, I don't think so' Kristian replied, not quite sure how to justify himself further, intimidated by how all eyes turned on him automatically.
'Awh, for real? Come on, man!' The bassist was the quickest to react. 'Don't tell me it's because you think you're too cool for us-'
'Ugh, I won't be in town tomorrow!' he lied through his teeth. 'I'm going to Oslo with my family. It's already settled'
'You can't be serious' the band leader continued complaining. 'Are you willing to throw away the chance to binge drink with us for the whole damn night to go with your folks to the most boring city for New Year's Eve?' A reticent eyebrow was raised, infuriating the other.
'Cry me a river' Kristian rolled his eyes. 'I guess I should've said it sooner, but whatever'
'Nah, it's fine, man' Jørn entered their discussion, earning a not-so-subtle frown from the rhythm guitarist. 'Have fun in Olso'
'Well, it would've been cool to be all of us, but you do you, dude' Jan shrugged, a bit disappointed but not in the position to argue or beg.
'You'll miss out the fun, dude. I'm meeting today with my friend from Sweden to buy the pot' Tore added, glad to remind his mates that their money was soon to be exchanged for something entirely special.
'Talking about fun' Olve smirked, giving Harald the face that he hated the most. 'You know, it's been a while since I've seen your sister and we never had the time to chat properly. Maybe you can bring her with you tomorrow-'
'Don't you even fucking think about it!' the lead guitarist put weight on his words, annoyed and embarrassed.
'Come on, man! How can you be so heartless-'
'It's my sister, for fuck sake!'
'But what about my happiness?? Well, yeah, it's your sister but she can be my-'
'She won't! Go find a girlfriend in other places!'
'There are no other places, where do you suggest??'
'I don't know! Hooker bars or the church!'
Fits of laughter were bursting out in the background, their mates sounding like a bunch of hyenas while Kristian was still thinking about his flat excuse for not joining their new year small party.
In retrospect, he should've agreed right away to enjoy the chaos of a drunken night with his bandmates and enlarge his substance-use expertise by smoking up his first joint. No care in the world, no need to fight for his freedom anymore, not a single reason to refuse that sweet invitation to hit the jackpot, yet he strongly turned down the offer.
There was one sole motive that pushed him to deny himself all the things that were once out of immediate reach. He could finally have it his way, yet he gave it all away for the maternal love that he had been mercilessly forbidden from.
He didn't think he was an idiot, he knew this deep within his soul but there was nothing that he could do to suppress the fundamental needs of his inner child because nothing cut his heart more than being intentionally ignored by his creator. Therefore, on a delusional note he still believed that if he stayed home with his mother on such a special evening, his efforts would pay off and he would be finally noticed, acknowledged in her heart again and maybe even forgiven for his small crimes.
There must be an opening for him to fall back into her grace and be the good, love-deserving child that he was meant to be.
It has to be a way...
He kept telling himself that so he doesn't give thought to the possibility of committing the biggest mistake in modern history.
---
The night had passed with little to no sleep from counting reasons to change his mind and dwelling into endless worries. The next day came sluggishly, with the cosmic vault still remaining black until much later in the morning.
Relying on caffeine started to become part of Kristian's matinal routine, eagerly finishing up the extra coffee that his mother would unintentionally make instead of throwing it in the sink.
As soon as his brain returned to its usual functionality, he had to ask his brother for more driving lessons again, lowering his ego in the process. There was so much that would be beneficial to learn, at least in theory, until his sibling leaves to live with their fugitive father again. He would later exercise and practice, but for now he had to get the basics right.
It will pay off later. He was firmly convinced.
Later in the day, he went to spend an hour or two with his peers for the very last time of that year.
As he expected, everyone was in a great mood, ready to party hard and put an end to the 80s on a promising note, everyone except him.
Olve was already a bit tipsy together with Jørn and Truls because Jørn stole one of his father's expensive whisky bottles and neither of them could wait until later in the afternoon. Jørn's girlfriend wasn't impressed in the slightest, if anything Jørn only managed to piss her off because now she was the only one who could use his car to go and pick up her own girl friends for the bash tonight. Jan was still at home, setting up the place after his parent’s departure. Harald was probably at his girlfriend's house, enjoying the last hours of quietness and dignity before meeting up with his deranged friends and Tore was nowhere to be found, but he promised to bring the weed and some of his own deranged friends with him.
'Are you sure you're not coming?'
Kristian sighed loudly, making Olve painfully aware of how useless his last-minute question was, but Olve didn't give a shit, looking just as offended as him for not receiving an instantaneous answer.
'No' the rhythm guitarist replied too calmly for the vein that was showing on his forehead.
Why does he have to insist so much?
In hindsight, he knew that it was just the bassist's style to refuse an unsatisfactory response, but re-evaluating his verdict would only weaken his will to remain firm and he couldn't allow doubts for tonight.
It would've been a high time to meet new people and make an excellent first impression and maybe even talk with a girl or two, but he brushed that thought off before it could grow on him, smiled awkwardly when he was told to 'Have fun' and wished a 'Happy New Year' in advance.
He left when the others left too. Getting back on the bus and home again, barely entering the door when he spotted his sibling in the hallway.
'Hei' his brother briefly acknowledged him before turning to see their mother emerging from the living room. 'Jeg drar nå'
'Oh, allerede? Ha det gøy' she smiled warmly, her eyes sparkling at the sight of her most successful accomplishment in the shape of a human.
She pulled out of her purse a generous amount of cash and insisted that he took them to enjoy his night out.
As soon as the oldest departed, Kristian got a better look at his single parent. Modest heels, tea dress, discreet makeup that brought out the profound shade of blue in her irises and her favourite red lipstick were all indicators of a much bigger event than he anticipated. She would always look elegant and prestigious with every occasion, but there was something about her whole appearance that made him just wonder what was the full extent of the impression she wanted to give this evening.
'Where did he go?' He asked a more factual question, raising a bushy eyebrow.
'He went out with his university acquaintances tonight' she replied casually, checking herself out in the full-length mirror.
'Tsk, are you serious?' He blurted out, shocked to see how his brother was permitted to simply fuck off whenever he wanted, especially when he should've stayed home and celebrate with his family.
'I don't understand why are you so bothered about this' she shrugged with seemingly no clue, but he knew better. 'Your brother is not a child anymore, of course he went out to enjoy the New Year's Eve with his colleagues'
His jaw almost dropped at the sheer audacity he had just heard coming out of her mouth. He couldn't believe his ears.
'Now, go change into something nice and help me arrange the dining table in the living room. We're having guests tonight'
'Wait, what-'
But she didn't give him time to protest as she returned from the kitchen with a large appetizer platter and handed it to him.
'Put these on the coffee table, I don't have room for anything else on the counter'
How many guests could they have if they couldn’t even fit in the kitchen?
Just when he thought that was getting close to making progress with his emotionally inconsiderate caretaker, the bomb had been dropped on him. This time it was his mother's turn to organize the upcoming year festivity at their own residence.
Banal coworkers, insipid and tasteless middle-aged people with loud and detestable children were all coming over to destroy what was left to destroy of his mental stability for a whole night. And as if putting up with annoying strangers wasn't a tragedy on its own, his mother assigned him the unofficial role of the family's personal valet.
Arguing with her about presentable clothes was futile because nothing in the world would convince him to conform and be seen as less than a raging rebel.
Washed out jeans, a long sleeve and an Iron Maiden t-shirt on top were in a way his way of raining on his mother's parade while fixing the last obnoxious details on the dinner table.
Around 7 o'clock cars were starting to pull over in front of his house, slowly dragging him into a nightmare to come. It all started when his mother told him to welcome the guests according to the protocol.
As if held at gunpoint, he smiled and talked politely with the small crowd that was coming like the ocean flux past his door frame and into his territory. Young or old, blonde or brunette, he was mentally wishing death upon all of them with no discrimination. Time in which he should be continuously available for his mother and the intruders' pretentious demands was time in which he would have liked to be high as a kite on Jan’s couch.
It was already too late.
'Oh, Kristian! Jeg har ikke sett deg på så lenge'
Surprisingly, he recognized one of his mother's long-term friends by her annoyingly nasal Northern accent. His first reaction would've been to blatantly ignore the woman, making her embarrassed for talking to a wall but how could he when his mother's watchful eyes and stressed smile told him to act like a normal human being and salute respectfully.
Presumed comments and unsolicited remarks about his long hair and trivial interest in rock and roll were some of the most obvious subjects that he couldn't be spared of. How he hated the obnoxious, completely unselfconscious people who would just spill out the first thought they had about anything and how he hates those old bastards who thought they were so smart and entertaining for poking innocent fun at his looks, calling his generation a future failure. He could almost forget about the small children that were running between people's legs, his included, making his servant job a living hell. If there was one thing that could eclipse the freezing moon tonight, it would’ve been his timeless revulsion.
Back and forth between the kitchen and the main room at everyone's sadistic pleasure, he was regretting his decision to stay home with every nerve he had.
Hours were slipping awfully slow and somewhere around 10 pm, when his mother ordered him to fill up a few more glasses, he finally had enough.
Grabbing the bottle of wine he went out in the cold, behind the house to have a small break. He lit up a cigarette and took a long drag out of it, almost wishing he could choke on the vaporous poison again. Hit after hit, a gulp of red wine followed to drown the bitterness in his soul and take away the visceral truth that he held the title for the biggest idiot in the human species.
He couldn't even chuckle at the irony of it all. One time wanting to be there for his mother to repair their broken relationship and she couldn't fucking care less.
He could imagine Olve choking on his own spit from guffawing at the hopeless pit he dug for himself in unawareness. Only if the bassist knew the tragic comedy that Kristian won with his final denial. He could almost hear his good friend calling him an underdog for choosing motherly love instead of drugs and alcohol.
But when did Olve become a good friend?
Kristian must've been out of sync with his own personal chronicles because he couldn't find the exact moment in which he allowed the bassist to climb up in rank. What a strange anomaly . He couldn't be thinking at that clown in his most crooked and vulnerable shape.
His mind shifted focus, eventually wondering what were the others doing while he was loathing his existence, hiding from plain sight in the darkness.
They must be living the time of their lives.
Probably everyone brought alcohol, great music, people alike, pizza, popcorn, firecrackers and so on. None of them were rich, but they always knew how to make the most of everything because they all knew each other long before they knew him and their friendships were running deeper than the one they had with him.
He was meant to be an outsider, another pair of eyes in the public who could watch humans bond, make connections and enjoy their time together. He wished he had that, at least for a little while. To belong, to be part of something bigger, to just not feel completely hopeless and alone in the unforgivable cold of the New Year's night, he would give anything for that.
He didn't drink much, being mindful about not getting drunk. Although he would have loved to see her face when he comes back as an unfiltered killjoy, but the embarrassment wouldn't top the satisfaction so, therefore it wasn't worth it.
Eventually, he had to return. After finishing his cigarette and refreshing his mind as much as he could, he entered the house to see that no one missed him for one second.
Happy New Year by ABBA was typically playing on the pick-up, belly laughter and cheerful conversations were mixing with the music, creating an ever-warm atmosphere that he could not feel. Engaged in a lighthearted discussion about future plans and career, his mother adored to be in the center of attention. Sitting at the table, in her immediate proximity stood a tall, dark-blond haired man who looked only a few years younger than her.
He knew right then and there that he was the reason why she dolled up like that. He could tell by the look in their eyes that they both felt the same. He was completing her words and she was giggling softly at his comments, a still-burning cigarette in her hand and a half-empty glass of wine in front of her.
It hurt.
Trying so hard to have a bit of the attention and affection that she would freely give to others just to come out empty-handed and eternally envious was the sad story of his life. All efforts were futile, all sacrifices were worthless, but he had to have all of his hopes broken into pieces to make his heart finally understand that the battle was lost.
Sick to the stomach, he didn't even touch the food that she thoughtfully prepared early in the day. It didn't fucking matter if he was there anymore, everyone was having a perfect gathering, just like his friends that must've completely forgotten about him.
He didn't know his name and he didn't want to. He already knew that she would keep that man a secret because of his long-term aversion towards all of her previous romantic partners. He could never stand any of them due to how easily they would steal her away from him.
Whenever he needed her, she was never there.
He felt like a ghost, a non-entity in a room full of joyous souls, a visitor completely invisible to the naked eye, unable to interact with the material world the way that he would have liked to. Unable to form any kind of link.
He didn't agree to take pictures of them, he was just handed the Polaroid camera and did as told, his jaw tightening at the sight of that man's hand on his mother's shoulder. He must've been out of his mind for burning with jealousy at that guiltless sight and perhaps he was, but he couldn't be anything but mad at how he's been treated. In a twisted way, he could always justify the sheer spite and venomous hatred that he was breathing in.
When the highly awaited time came to step into the next decade, there was nothing left to say.
Colorful fireworks were shooting into the skyline, illuminating a new, prosperous decennium for everyone but him. People were opening up Champagne bottles, hugging and wishing the best for one another while he was staring into the black, nocturnal void. Gods forbid to unintentionally see his parent kiss that stranger.
One thing was certain and that was that he will never forget the New Year's Eve of 1990. He never thought he would start the 90s feeling more suicidal than he ever did in his life, but there he was, fantasizing about how this night should be his last one.
He stopped surprising himself with intrusive thoughts and impulsive decisions a while ago, so he didn't even ask himself where the fuck was his head at.
Once again, life had to show him its irreproachable unfairness, spitting in the eyes of fools and turning its back at those who did nothing to deserve it.
It's been nearly a decade since he truly felt like crying. It had never been out of sadness, but frustration, deeply accumulated, bottled up, calcareous frustration. At almost 17 now, he wouldn't shed a tear, but he would always weep internally. His soul was mourning his lost childhood, his lost maternal love, his lost time and effort to break the cycle of toxicity before it breaks him, although now it was too late.
The party continued indoors for a while as he remained outside, smoking his last cigarette. Exhaustion started to make its presence known in the afternoon, but now it got to a point in which staying awake was a real struggle. Fatigue was winning against all the caffeine he consumed in the morning, urging him to give himself a break and hit the pillow already.
Only if he could do so because even if he ditched everything and fucked off to his room, he couldn't close an eye with all the clamor that was going on.
Eventually, it all ended around 2 am. Those with children left much earlier, but around 2 in the morning he finally locked the front door and dragged his legs to his bedroom. He knew he heard his mother calling for him for one last time but he didn't even turn his head to look. After locking himself in, he crawled under the sheets, sober, starved and brokenhearted at the fresh beginning of a new decade.
Eyes closed, preventing any tear from falling, his pulse slowed down, allowing the darkness to pull him under.