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Chapter Text

20 September 1989

Bergen, Vestland

Plump clouds dissipated for a short while to allow a glimpse at the cold, pale, midday sun.

The private school ground could never be devoid of loud-mouthed students talking about mediocre subjects and daily nonsense. A few rebellious faces were hiding behind the dumpsters, feeling thrilled yet frightened at the very thought of being caught smoking, but their worry wasn't that much of a worry to make them stop.

How typical.

But he wasn't one of them. In fact, for as long as he remembered he couldn't fit in. Not because he wasn't able to mimic the conventional behavior of his teenage peers, or because he could never find it in him to light up a cigarette, but because of a blackened aura that he was constantly carrying around.

Closing up his school bag and throwing it over his shoulder, he walked away on the stillwet concrete despite the sound of the bell ringing, announcing yet another class to attend.

He didn't even flinch nor he looked around to see his mindless colleagues obey to the system like the sheep that they will soon grow up into. Something between a hopeful smile and a treacherous smirk crossed his lips as he jumped off the school fence and left.

After all, it was a Friday. The weekend had just begun.

---

In the darkness of his childhood room, he was getting dressed, tossing a light-blue denim jacket over his navy long-sleeved jumper and putting his honey-brown shoulder-length hair over the collar.

The digital alarm clock on his nightstand showed 3:30 pm. When time was inert, it made waiting a hard task to endure, but there he was, lingering in the hallway, counting minutes for his mother to get ready, get into the car and start their long journey to Oslo.

'Kristian, go take out the trash while I find the car key' a feminine and semi-firm voice demanded, making him cringe at the sound of his own birth name no matter how many times he heard it. He would never forgive her for the religious connotation that she cursed him with for the rest of his life.

‘Tsk, I can do that when I get back from the concert-' he scoffed, but he was cut short with one simple sentence.

'Go now'

Impatience convinced him to obey rather than start an argument, so he sighed and did as told.

---

5 hours were wasted listening to music on his Walkman and boringly gazing at fjords he had seen a thousand times before.

The diurnal luminescence died down, allowing the night to extend its somber mantra over the country’s capital.

Firstly, they stopped at a hotel to book a room for the night, then they returned to the vehicle to find the exact location of their not-so-spontaneous-but-highly-important visit. Finally arrived at the destination, his mother barely had time to park when her hurried son pushed the door open and got out.

'Thanks, mom! I'll see you later-'

'Wait! I will be at the hotel, tell me when this is over so I can come and pick you up'

'No! I told you not to come!' He snapped in frustration. 'I'm not a freaking kid, I'll get to the hotel by myself'

And with that being said, he turned to leave but rolled his eyes when he heard his name rolled on her tongue again.

'What?'

'Here'

Bushy eyebrows frowned for a split second before going up in a delightful surprise when she handed him more than a few banknotes.

'Take these. When you're done, get a cab and come. Don't you dare touch any drugs or alcohol. Do you hear me?'

She locked eyes with him in a serious manner as he greedily grabbed the money that was offered.

'Yeah' He nodded. 'Yeah, thanks, mom'

To his own astonishment, the whole negotiation went even better than expected.

Walking towards the tall fence, he could see his blatant kind everywhere. Rockers, metalheads, eccentric individuals were chatting loudly, almost covering the music from the open air scene.

Excitingly, yet anxious he got in line to have his ticket checked and access permitted on the other side.

Although the biggest city in Norway, Oslo lacked substance in the underground scene, therefore anarchists and renegades had to make the most of the very few occasions in which an extreme-labeled band like Slayer reached their small and flavorless country for an epic show.

Being only 16 didn't mean much as he was already a devoted adept of heavy metal and other musical obscurities that had been recently bred in Scandinavia.

Finally entered, he made his way through the clamorous mass of people to the drinking stands so he could do the first and most important thing his mother absolutely forbade, and that was to buy a beer to ease up his social anxiety before the band could come up on the stage. Having access to alcohol as a minor was quite uncommon in most places, but being at a large festival or concert felt like having a lucky card because the staff would be too occupied to make profit to ask everyone for an identification document.

As he effortlessly got what he wanted, he cracked the can open and hesitated for a second before taking a sip. It was truly a premiere because he only tasted champagne three times in his life on New Year's Eve.

After swallowing a mouthful of yeast-fermented malt flavored liquid, he already felt entitled to have more.

Awkwardly, he found a place in a corner close to the stage where he could blend in with the shadows and enjoy his cold beverage as if he didn't mind coming to such a big event all on his own. He thought that nobody would ever notice him and perhaps this was for the best. He would usually frown at those inebriated junkies who would bump into him at metal shows and give off a menacing aura despite his thin build and the insecurity that he often hid.

There was a cure for the ones with a hole in their confidence even for the most severe and chronic cases. He had the guts to try it tonight and it already became the trick in his sleeve to enjoy the music and forget about the volatile cluster in which he was staying in.

When the trash metal icons walked on the scene, he threw away the empty can.

One hour in and swift guitar riffs accompanied by brutal vocals were blasting out into the night. Long, tangled hair was whipping up and down as the public was headbanging to the song, sweaty, sticky bodies were fighting in what had formed to be a mosh pit, throwing punches before anyone would have the guts to intervene.

He was shouting out his favorite lyrics, all inhibitions gone while holding another beer in his hand, throwing his head back and forth, feeling entirely unleashed.

Freedom at its finest form.

It was then when somebody was thrown in the back, pushing him into the strangers behind. He only realized what happened after the impact as he drunkenly slipped a 'Oh, shit. Sorry!' to the one that he just hit.

'It's fine!' The seemingly young-looking metalhead shouted back, trying to be heard over the cacophony of noises.

Two hours later and the band ended gloriously with their last track, ‘Angel Of Death’.

Quite drunk, as he didn't have any tolerance for liver-poison, he was rapidly heading to the bathroom stalls. Acrid vomit was threatening to spill out of his throat when he barely had time to close the door.

It must've been all the agitation and the nerves that sabotaged his enjoyment, or at least that's what he told himself. The sickness didn't last long but as soon as he was done flushing, a lightheaded sensation settled in his system. Some of the intoxicant was still running through his blood.

'Hey, are you good?'

He exited the bathroom to see the guy that he previously encountered washing his hands in the sink and giving him an amused look.

'Why wouldn't' I be? A nonchalant shrug was his way to avoid embarrassment, at least under the influence.

'What a great show, man' the young metalhead smirked. 'I can't believe I've seen them live. No big band ever comes to this fucking country. They always go to the Swedes'

'Fuck Sweden, they only good thing they've got is Bathory' Kristian stated bluntly, making the other chuckle.

Yeah, you're right' the humble stranger lazily agreed as he extended his hand. 'Padden'

'Kristian' he shily revealed his name, handgripping the stranger briefly.

'Are you from Bergen?'

'Yeah, why?'

'Me too. You don't have that sing-song annoying accent'

'Ugh, I'd rather kill myself than talk like that'

He couldn't help but snort too when Padden burst into laughter. Sober, his affability would've been nonexistent.

'So, you came by train?' The metalhead couldn't help but ask while they were walking towards the exit. 'We can catch the first ride in the morning if you've got nothing better to do'

'Sorry, I came by car with some friends and they're not returning that early' Kristian lied with ease through his teeth.

'No problem' Padden shook his head.

'But I'm in no rush, I came here by myself. They're not into metal that much' the teenager felt like adding.

'What a shame, people don't know what great music is or they're too afraid to listen to it, you know? I mean Slayer is great, they're fucking awesome but you can always put something extra in. Even more violence, more aggression' Padded explained.

'It's hard to find something more brutal and this is what I've been searching for lately' Kristian admitted, suddenly more engaged in the conversation. 'Have you heard of Mayhem?'

'Fuck yeah, those guys are amazing!' The metalhead replied with excitement.

'They're quite underground and obscure. Their lyrics are dark and deprived and their guitar tone is so fucking brutal' Kristian went on a rant.

'I know. Do you play any instrument?' Padden rushed to find out.

'I've been playing guitar for two years now' Kristian stated. 'Do you?'

'Nice, I play drums' the other teen replied. 'Hey, uh, me and my friends have a metal band and we've been looking for a second guitarist for a while. You have cool tastes in music so, are you up for an audition?'

'Sure, why not?'

His smile grew wider before he could tame it. He tried so hard with little to no success to form a real band in the past. The very idea of stumbling upon such an opportunity seemed very out of place considering his generally pessimistic vision.

'Fucking awesome!' Padden grinned. 'Can't wait to tell the guys about you'

'Where should I find you?' Kristian jumped right into details. 'I'm from Fana'

'Oh, we all live in Lysekloster, but we go to Grieghallen Studio every Wednesday to rehearse. Come there next week around 6 and you'll see us'

'Sounds good'

It was settled.

'Well, I gotta go. I've only got money for the train ride so I'll have to walk all the way back to the station' Padden chuckled at his own misfortune. 'But, see you around, man!'

'Sure'

Once in the parking lot, they parted ways.

The blurry vision evaporated slowly but the sweet and careless feeling remained even after realizing he had no cash left.

So, despite the temperature dropping by minute and his lack of familiarity with the capital’s streets, he proceeded to make his way to what he remembered to be the route to the hotel. Ultimately, he had to ask for indications. Something that would never happen in a sober mind, too neurotic to talk with human beings and too full of myself to admit that he was lost.

One hour later, his alcohol-induced sanguine disposition was shattered as soon as he opened the door.

'What took you so long?'

The lamp was on, casting a dim glow on the tall ceiling and so was the TV, but the volume was set on minimum so she could hear her evasive son coming if she happened to fall asleep waiting.

The question was well-deserved even if he didn't have a good enough excuse to use right away.

'It lasted longer than I expected' he replied as if it was a fact but he didn't fool her.

She opened her mouth to say something but she quickly changed her mind as she took a few steps closer. 'Did you drink?'

'No, I-'

'How can you lie in my face? You are drunk, you bought alcohol with the money I gave you-'

'No, I didn't! I'm just tired-'

'Save it' she quickly closed his mouth with a sharp phrase. 'I do everything for you and all I ask is one thing. Is this how you repay me?'

He couldn't help but groan in frustration. 'Ah, come on! Don't start this now-'

'You don't care, you just take advantage of my kindness' she continued. 'I should have expected it'

Exhausted and bitter, Kristian lost the will to argue back, allowing her to keep complaining in the background like a broken record until he closed the bathroom door.

A heavy sigh escaped his lungs. He remained leaning on the door, waiting for the vertigo to stop before we went to wash his face. Icy cold water was dripping off of his chin, blue eyes caught the sight of the mirror’s reflection for a brief moment. He didn't have to look up to know how disappointment appeared.

When he returned to the room, he found himself in pitch black and funeral silence.

He pulled out his shoes and tossed his jacket where he thought the armchair was before climbing in bed and turning his back just like his mother did.

Maybe tasting freedom came with a terrible price, maybe it has always been like that. But when there was no escape, he had to create one.

She will forgive him like she always did. He loved her for that but he hated her for that just as much.

With a father figure that had long abandoned him and an older brother who left for superior studies not a long time ago, he found himself entirely alone with his mother. Sometimes as a burden, sometimes as a golden child although he had never been one, just a scapegoat who grew overly entitled to the world around him.

She was right about her accusation and he knew that.

Gradually, she lost her authority in front of him, gradually he began to shift from the extension that she raised him to be into his own individual, fighting for autonomy. But autonomy came with endless amounts of recklessness as an additional component that was dictated by his repressed anger rather than his current growing phase.

He closed his hooded eyes, pulled the blanket over his shoulder and fell asleep thinking that winning a possible friend was compensatory for falling out of his mother's grace.

---

The next day welcomed him with a matinal headache but no nausea. Two beers couldn't be that much, could they?

The fact that his mother could now easily look him in the eyes after their late-night argument told him everything he needed to know.

Everything he knew all along.

After eating smoked salmon for breakfast with soft boiled eggs and tea, he hopped into the passing seat and she took off.

He watched the same horizon for millions of times. He sighed and looked away for even more.

The future didn't seem like a promising one.

In a stiff and emotionally detached Scandinavian household where a 'good education' was the parental obsession and, with the oldest child already enrolled in the process of becoming a slave to the wage, how could he tell his family that he wants to drop out?

It wasn't the time now, but it will soon be as his tolerance to mindless submission was thinning out by minute.

It didn't feel pleasant nor detestable to be back home, it had always been that something in between that could never cure his deep-rooted boredom.

His bedroom was much older than he was. The walls used to be naked, now they were covered in posters of bands he was dying to see one day.

A dusty amplifier was placed in the empty space under the desk and leaning by the foot of his bed was a dull-white Westone guitar that he bought 2 years ago from an acquaintance. Half of his bibliotheque was overcrowded by thick history books while the other half was reserved for a World War II artifacts collection.

If there was one thing that he would be able to shamelessly invest all of his mother's bank account into was his undying love for a blasphemous dictatorship that was born in Germany at a certain point in time.

Authentic SS skull badges and Nazi insignias, silver pocket watches, iron crosses and military knives were proudly displayed to insinuate his deeply disturbed mentality. It was two years ago that he switched from one political extremity to another one in hopes of  'finding himself truly' and associating his non-defined personality with the ultimate image of power and correction. 

If punk culture was still alive and thriving across the western civilization and amongst the easily impressed youth, it was already dead for him. His prime prototype of anarchistic band, 'Kalashnikov' turned out to be a miserable failure, one that he could never allow. So he dissolved his project, kicking out his then acquaintances to start over in a new direction.

First thing first was to shave his head off, call himself a 'skin' and pretend that he evolved into a better version of himself but when long-haired men dressed in leather jackets started to be perceived as dangerous by society and be linked to acts of Satanism, Kristian found his style again.

Over and over again.

Uruk-Hai Became his new project. Classic thrash metal riffs coated in Iron Maiden's influence with dark, ambient tones given by Tolkien’s tales and Nordic mythology, a personal music genre on its own.

Although apathetic by nature, he was grateful for returning to his favorite lecture. It had been a while since he lost himself in Tolkien's writings. A mystic land, a fantastic story, another life that he couldn't live with his body but with his mind only, therefore in Rivendell, Mirkwood, or Lothlórien he lived forever.

What he made sure to intentionally omit to the ones that knew him was his great decision to abandon reality. The reasons were multiple yet he couldn't name a single one. Withdrawal meant survival and for every barrier that he couldn't pass on the outside, he had to fantasize an escape inwards.

If he could run from his monotonous life forever, from the intrusive thoughts and randomly generated bursts of fury he would very much do so.

One question was burning to be answered or to remain in the darkness of his subconscious mind for the rest of his life.

What does one who has everything he ever wanted including all the financial possibilities to live a life much more prosperous than many people out there could run from? Why was the need to get away from the quotidian so viscerally strong and magnetic that it took over his entire existence?

Some questions were better left unanswered, at least that's what he was telling himself whenever he couldn't sleep at night.

To admit that there was something wrong beneath the surface of idealism would mean admitting weakness and he had no mercy from himself, so he had to remain at the surface.

Eyelids began to feel heavy while following otherworldly descriptions and his own inner monologue. He could've turned on the lamp on his nightstand but he chose to keep reading until the words became mingled and the nocturnal glow swallowed him entirely. The book slowly fell from his hands on his chest as a deep and dreamless slumber took over.

---

The weekend passed faster than a bullet and he found himself enduring another school week again.

Being part of the private education system meant that all of his excellent grades were bought in advance and he couldn't be bothered by the teachers that were always complaining about his massive disinterest. Skipping classes here and there was already part of his rebellious routine and he genuinely doubted that this habit would somehow change even if his mother finds out.

Postponing the inevitable was regular but when Wednesday came around, Kristian had to make a final decision.

It was rather a long revision of the sudden and unexpectedly congenial attitude that alcohol made him exhibit. He broke the golden rule of hostility and got to know a complete stranger in the social setting that he intentionally put himself into. And as if it wasn’t enough, he revealed little trivial facts about his private person that stirred enough interest in the other metalhead to ask him to join an unknown band.

Thinking better about the situation, the offer thrilled him as much as it frightened him.

It could be a chance for new admiration but it also could be a chance for making a complete fool out of himself. Now that he was completely sober, less friendly and less brave than he led, the balance was somehow leaning towards reasons to not go anywhere.

Maybe he should've stayed at home, complete another chapter of Silmarillion instead of walking towards the said studio with his guitar case strapped to his back and his heart pounding inside his chest, but the idea of novelty intrigued him, suppressing some of the paranoid voices in his head.

It can't be that bad.

When he arrived, he was met by what will soon turn to be a familiar face. Padden was smoking a cigarette outside when he spotted Kristian walking towards him.

'Hey, man!' The drummer's face brightened as he threw away the burning filter. 'You really came, I'm so glad'

'I said I would' Kristian shily smiled while trying to seem less tense. 'I could give it a go'

'Nice, let's go inside' Padden patted Kristian's shoulder as he went ahead and pushed the door open.

Walking in, he followed the metalhead on a small corridor from which could hear loud laughter and instruments chaotically going off. The door of the studio must have been left open so voices could travel past the phonetic barrier.

The interior was much larger than he expected. Covered in wood from the floor to the ceiling, with bright lights illuminating each and every corner, he found his anxiety rising. Loudspeakers, Marshall combos and amplifiers, pedals and of course, a lot of recording equipment was placed everywhere around him.

'Hey! Turn that shit down, I'm back with the guy I told you about!' Padden bluntly demanded.

'What?? I thought you were fucking with us-' one of the long-haired figures cut his own words short as soon as he spotted a new face next to his bandmate. 'Oh, velkomst!'

'Yeah, right. For sure' the drummer rolled his eyes at the bassist's classic fuckery.

'Hi, I'm Harald. Call me Demonaz' the guitarist handgripped the newcomer.

'Kristian' the teenager replied.

'Abbath' the bassist widened his eyes theatrically as he grasped Kristian's hand firmly and shortly. 'So, you wanna be our second guitarist?'

The newcomer let out a nervous giggle and shrugged. 'I guess I could'

'If he's playing better than you, you guys switch roles' Abbath smirked and gave his bandmate a dirty look.

'Fuck you, man' Demonaz laughed although his annoyance was legit.

'Ignore them, so you play metal, right?' Padden asked. 'We're kinda death at the moment but we wanna go for something more extreme, like Mayhem for ex-'

'Mayhem is fucking brutal. We already sing about gore and shit but we want to cross it with what Euronymous calls black metal' the bassist interrupted. 'That’s all I have in mind since I started this band'

'And what is your band called?' Kristian raised a curious eyebrow.

'You didn't tell him?' Abbath snapped his head at the drummer. 'That's the first thing you brag about when you introduce yourself, man. It's called Old Funeral. The name tells everything'

And it did only because he was told so.

'Anyway, let's see what you've got'

At the band leader's request, Kristian pulled out his guitar and plugged it into Demonaz's amplifier, then proceeded to tune up. The lead guitarist told him that they weren't allowed to use any gear besides the one that they brought here, which was expected, but he also found out that it wasn't always the case.

'The best part is that we don't have to pay for any of our sessions' Demonaz added.

'Cool, so you come here whenever you want to?' Kristian casually asked.

'Well, we usually come here on Wednesday after school because it's less busy. If a band pays for a session, they have priority and we have to reschedule' Padden explained. 'It happens sometimes, but we can stay here until 11 o'clock which is pretty convenient if you’ve got nothing better to do'

'Alright, I'm ready' the newcomer announced as he got a hold of his guitar. 'Do I play anything or..?'

'Yeah, yeah. Go ahead' Abbath nodded quickly.

After only two years of playing, it was fair to say that he was far from mastering the instrument entirely, but he will soon find out that the other's weren't necessarily more skilled than him.

He rehearsed alone at home over and over again some of his favorite riffs and licks with the intention of playing them flawlessly in front of people. Needless to say, the anxiety played a decisive role in the quality of his sound and hand accuracy. However, he could see through his honey-coloured hair that the other's reactions were quite positive.

The bassist smirked, quite satisfied. He watched him poke the drummer in the elbow and tell him something that would make him agree.

Lastly, Kristian ended on a power chord, leaving the distortion ring out in the studio.

'Not bad for a self-taught guy' Abbath was the first to point out. 'I mean, you can work a bit on precision-'

'Look who's fucking talking' Demonaz deadpanned.

'I fucking sing while playing!' The bassist was quick to justify. 'I’m not Araya yet but I will in five years’

'It's good' the lead guitarist ignored his bandmate and replied to Kristian instead.

'Thanks'

Praise felt good, even better when it came directly from strangers.

He tried for once to leave his egocentric mindset aside as the lead guitarist was showing him how to correct some of his automatic mistakes.

He watched them play one of their original songs 'Abduction of Limbs' and he could immediately recognize the Carcass and Morbid Angel influences. It didn't sound terrible even if he wasn't a fan of either of the bands, in fact, the chaotic style that the group had was indeed unique and classified as extreme. It was more than death metal, it had that dark flavor that he was looking for.

Two hours later, Kristian was doing his best to memorize tabs and play along Demonaz. He was more than excited to be in their band and they were more than sure that they found the rhythm guitarist that they were looking for.

Nerves and excessive self-awareness were long forgotten as by the end of session, he managed to play everything just fine.

'You learn fast' Padden grinned, putting his jacket on, getting ready to leave. 'That's pretty good'

'Thanks. I'll probably learn all of the tabs I've written down until next week' Kristian let them know while zipping up his guitar case.

'That's the spirit, man' Abbath commented.

'Olve, did you get any extra jack to jack cable at home??' Demonaz shouted from across the room. He was the only one to make sure that the equipment was alright before they left.

'Nah, I’ve only got one for myself!' The bassist yelled back right into Kristian's ears. 'Sorry' he briefly apologized to the new guitarist, careless and obnoxious. 

The new rhythm guitarist rolled his eyes, already irked by the loud-mouthed band leader.

'Mine doesn’t make contact that good anymore and I know I borrowed you one not long ago' Demonaz insisted as he approached the group again.

'Yeah, I’m using that one now. Feel for me, will you?' the bassist more or less joked and turned to leave.

'Do you guys have any fucking umbrella? It's pissing rain outside and the train station is not close' the drummer complained as he stepped out on the wet asphalt.

'A bit of rain won't kill you, Jan. If anything, it’ll wash you clean' Abbath thought out loud as usual.

'Clever advice, man' Padden replied sarcastically. 'Are you talking about yourself?'

'Jan is right, you need this downpour more than we do' Demonaz teased. 'At least I change my shirts'

'That’s because you’ve got a chick now, but see you after that' the bassist’s grin grew while mocking his friend.

It was more than clear that beside classmates and neighbors, the three were all good pals. Their undeniable ordinary and laid-back attitude was making Kristian feel astray and his awkward silence be heavier than the rain drops.

'Hey, so, it's settled, right?' Abbath turned his face to the quiet teenager. 'You're gonna play with us'

'Yeah' the rhythm guitarist nodded. 'You guys have my number, call me if you change plans'

'Good, then, see you around!'

'Bye'

'See ya'

And with that being said, they split ways.

Returning home soaked to the bone, he could hear his mother talking on the phone in the kitchen like she didn't hear the front door opening.

Tiredly, he took off his muddy sneakers and went to take a hot shower.

Reflecting on his maladroit interaction but pleasant outcome gave him the safe impression that he did the right thing by meeting with those guys downtown. And the fact that they didn't know anything about him left him with just enough room to display the image that he always wanted to.

Considering the group his 'friends' was very daring and bold, so he gladly pushed that thought away remembering that trust was a sacred construct that he wouldn't be foolish enough to apply on every individual that showed him an ounce of amiability, even if it wasn't often. But the idea of playing in a band and having fun just for the sake of occupying space and time far away from his vapid household seemed brighter than the sun and the sun didn't shine very often on his street.

Chapter Text

'Where are you going?'

He was about to open the front door when he heard his mother's voice coming from the kitchen.

'I've got rehearsal at the studio. I told you I'm in a band now' Kristian couldn't help but scoff as he hated repeating himself. 'Anyway, I'm going'

Out on the wet and muddy streets again, he knew he was late so he took a shortcut to his destination.

The early autumn breeze was blowing softly through his locks. He could feel the never-ending moisture lingering in the air and taste the ocean’s salt on his lips.

Punctuality wasn't one of his strengths but he doubted that any of his bandmates would notice anyway. When he arrived, he found the guys messing around with random tunes and pedal settings rather than playing anything.

'Hei'

Kristian saluted, finally putting down his guitar case and the box in which he transported his amplifier. The others greeted him back as their wasting time was over.

'Thought you got lost or something' Olve teased, dragging the microphone stand in the middle of the room.

'Tsk, guess you're not that lucky' Kristian replied sarcastically, getting his equipment ready.

'Marshall? Nice stuff, man' Jan remarked, making the rhythm guitarist smirk pridefully.

'I've learned everything from the notes I took last time so, we can start with anything' Kristian let them know as a matter of fact.

'You did? That's perfect' the bassist agreed, turning the volume up his own amplifier. 'We can start off with Skin and Bones, then Devoured Carcass, see how you keep up. How about that?'

'Sounds good' Harald nodded, moving to Olve's right side.

'You guys, I'm ready when you are ready' Jan stated from behind the drums.

'Good. Set in 3, 2, 1!'

Callous fingers started moving on the fretboard as the bass intro began. Seconds after, drumsticks started hitting the drum set.

Both guitars joined immediately in a distorted riff before Olve let out a blood-curdling shriek.

His voice was rough and raw in the microphone. Kristian could tell that he learned how to sing from his diaphragm on his own, possibly fucking up his vocal cords in the process, but the sound was sublime, remarkably dark and haunting, something that caught his attention when he saw they perform for the first time.

He kept on following the drum beats, impressed again by Jan's speed while trying to play just as accurately as Harald. The difference between rehearsing at home, in the quiet of his room with a metronome was massively different from playing live with his bandmates. Although challenging at first, he was motivated to give everyone an even better impression on himself.

'You're doing good' the lead guitarist praised him at the end of the song. 'How does it feel?'

'It's fine, but I can do better' Kristian sighed, slightly frustrated.

Harald nodded in mutual understanding for his 6-strings-fellow. 'You're getting there' then, he turned to the drummer. 'Padden, can you play the chorus one more time?'

The rhythm guitarist gave it one more shot, this time with much background less noise as Olve went to have some water, or at least that's what it looked like as he pulled out a plastic bottle from his backpack, although when he returned, Kristian could briefly smell what couldn't be mistaken as anything but alcohol.

It was as if the bassist could sense his eyes on him because he turned his head and shrugged. 'It helps with the vocals' The rhythm guitarist only raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. 'Do we keep going?' Olve asked, eager to move to another song.

They went through track after track with their new second guitarist, getting him accustomed with their style, interrupting themselves from time to time whenever a mistake that couldn't be easily overlooked occurred. Breaks were taken here and there to stretch their fingers and go out for a smoke.

Three hours later they finally decided to wrap everything up, pack their instruments, lock the studio and leave.

The lamp lights were on, but the night was young, Harald's wrist watch indicating 9:10 pm.

'It's not that late, do you wanna catch the bus now or?' The lead guitarist vaguely asked, already anticipating his friend's answer.

'Nah, I've got nothing better to do at home. Let's go to a pub' Olve strongly suggested.

'Do you even have any money on you or do we have to be the Red Cross again?' Jan barely had time to question as the bassist threw a hand around his neck and dragged him down the street.

'Of course, of course! Let's go for a drink in Apollon' Olve pronounced as the others typically tagged along.

---

Tightly compartmentalized, not quite crowded but enveloped in cigarette smoke, Apollon Platebar was one of the very few rock-themed pubs in Bergen.

Started as a record store, the place became known for being able to obtain foreign music before other Norwegian music stores had discovered the artists.

Sitting at the bar with a blonde beer in front of him wasn't exactly how he imagined the rehearsal session would end, but it was his new pals who frequented Apollon because it wasn't a mainstream place and they could be served drinks regardless of their age restriction.

'It's the middle of the fucking week, man. My folks will kill me if they find out I went drinking on a school night' Harald had a sudden call of rationality. 'I'll give it a pass'

'Come on, they will be sleeping when you get home' Olve insisted, taking a sip of his cold beverage.

'I don't care' the lead guitarist rolled his eyes.

'You know, you could've invited your girl to come here with us' the bassist grinned. 'The more the merrier, right?'

'You should get a girl, man. Just so you stop bringing Harald's chick in all discussions' Jan half joked, half replied concerned as he crushed his cigarette filter into the ashtray.

'How I wish, brother' Olve snorted, full of pity for himself. 'Maybe then I will start changing my shirts'

They snorted and continued talking back and forth about random subjects while the rhythm guitarist was still thinking if he should touch his drink or not considering the consequences and his last time experience.

'Kris!'

He blinked, turning suddenly aware of the world around him. 'Huh?' He didn't remember allowing a nickname to his eternally shameful name to be given.

'You didn't say much since we've got here' was the bassist's conclusion. 'Tell us stuff'

'What stuff?' Kristian questioned, more hostile than bored.

Olve shrugged. 'I don't know. How is your life? Are people from Fana looking down at everyone else because they're rich and fancy?'

Jan burst into laughter. 'Dude-'

'I don't know or care. I don't waste time with regular people and everyone in Fana is fucking regular' the rhythm guitarist crossed his hands in annoyance.

'That's good' the bassist replied smoothly.

'Ugh, I don't feel like drinking either' Kristian continued. 'You can have it if you want to'

'Oh, tusen takk!' Olve sneakily dragged the glass towards himself. 'Have you been to Lysekloster before?'

'No' the rhythm guitarist replied. 'Why?'

'Well, we don't really spend time in the city because everything is expensive as hell and there are a ton of people giving you all sorts of weird looks' the bassist explained. 'So, if you like the woods and shit, you can come around to our place to hang out'

It was almost as if the metalhead could sense his new bandmate's dread of being perceived in public. The suggestion felt intentional in a way.

Kristian nodded before he voiced his agreement. 'Sounds cool. I hate the city'

'We all do' Jan lazily commented right after him.

'Oh, we gotta show you some groovy spots' Olve suggested, lighting up another cigarette.

It was almost 11pm when they got up, paid and left in a hurry to catch the last bus ride to their village. 

One hour on the road and they would arrive home around midnight. With a bass and guitar case strapped to their backs and waiting at the bus stop, Kristian had the humorous thought that his mates looked like a lost mariachi band. He could only imagine the anguish of having to wake up at 5:30 in the morning every day and waste two hours on the way to school and back because there was no secondary education in Lysekloster. And if this wasn't challenging enough, two of them had to carry around a relatively large musical instrument all day, every Wednesday for rehearsals.

After saying goodbye, Kristian turned to walk home.

Nordic days were rapidly getting shorter and much colder while nights were growing darker and darker, anticipating an even harsher season. The nocturnal vault was too saturated in clouds to allow the stars shine, but the lampposts were bright enough to illuminate the deserted street that he was crossing.

The wind picked up halfway through entering his neighborhood but he didn't mind it at all. If anything, he prayed for gods to take away the rancid smell of nicotine from his clothes so he could dodge a ballistic bullet tonight.

As the day rolled relatively smoothly, he found himself reflecting upon his new circle of influence.

They were a serious band, at least that's what the bassist wanted to portray if his procrastination wouldn't be that evident, but perhaps he didn't know Olve enough to put a prognosis on him. Still, it was hard to believe that there was anything more beyond a loud, obnoxious mouth and a buffoonish prestation. The band leader was drawn to the booze like a fly to a fresh corpse and he showed to be a master in making up excuses to have a gulp of alcohol. It seemed to be a regular aspect considering the oblivious attitude of his other bandmates.

Harald appeared just a bit more preoccupied with the band than the other two. His guitar skills were by far better than Kristian's although his inflated sense of self wouldn't allow to call them anything but 'decent'. He had to get there himself, it was a goal he marked.

Jan was somehow more happy-go-lucky than Harald but less insouciant and annoying than Olve. After all, it was the drummer who approached him in the first place.

They invited him to hang out with them beyond repetitions and he agreed without a second thought.

Could it be that they truly found a friend in him? Hardly, he bitterly thought, but it was a chance to find out what this absurd amity could provide.

A contraindication to the unapproachable image that he wanted to illustrate, a high risk for developing trust and real comradery with three complete strangers, a calamity if taken to an extreme.

How he loved to fill his head with endless worries over simple things that had only one dimension. Anyhow, he should get a hold on himself and his sudden decisions if he knows what is better and safer for his fragile self. It was time to take his own advice.

---

As he silently pushed the doorknob wishing for pitch blackness and funeral silence to welcome him, he saw a low light in his mother's room before he heard rapid steps emerging in the hallway.

'Where do you come from so late?' She demanded answers, scanning him with a vigilant eye. 'What is this smell? Did you start smoking now?'

'No, I didn't. The guys I was with were smoking' he rushed into explanation. 'We went to a pub after-'

'Kristian' She cut him off. 'Don't lie to-'

'I'm not lying!' He snapped, losing his calm quicker than expected. 'I don't smoke or drink! I've just been out with some friends'

He felt like kicking himself for openly admitting that he actually wanted them to be his friends.

'Don't you dare raise your voice at me-'

'I'm going to bed'

He didn't give her any chance to finish as he walked past her thin frame and further into the house. Shutting the door behind, he pulled his guitar down and threw himself into the bed.

Where does this anger come from?

The justification was well-known but it had been pushed so far away in the back of his consciousness that he didn't want to venture there and bring out even more hurtful concepts that he desperately wanted to forget.

Listening to his erratic heart beat slow down, he took a deep breath and got up to change his clothes.

For one reason or another, sleep didn't come easy. It took long until somnolence could eventually discontinue the inner voice in his head.

---

Small buildings and old houses were passing by together with the monochrome skies that he knew too well.

Entering Bjørnafjorden municipality, he stopped at Søvik Nord. Vibrant green hills, virgin forests and deep blue fjords in between, the minimalist beauty of rural landscapes far, far away from home was what tempted him to come there in the first place.

His bandmates were sitting on a wooden bench, waiting and chatting when they spotted their fourth friend stepping out of the autobus.

'Ah, finally' Olve stated. 'You know, for a second I thought you decided it's not worth coming and we were waiting here like idiots'

'That wouldn't be far from the truth' Kristian teased as he approached the group.

'Hey, man' Jan saluted back. 'How's it going?'

'Hey' Harald greeted.

Leaves were blowing in the wind as they were strolling through the evergreen woods, their nasal accent and faint laughter echoing further than they thought or cared. Following a muddy path that was sure to destroy their already worn-out sneakers, useless conversations about music were rolling.

The bassist was still mourning that Slayer concert that he missed, being too broke to afford a ticket.

'Auschwitz, the meaning of pain! The way that I want you to die!!' Olve growled and screamed out the lyrics. 'Tell me I don't sound exactly like Tom Araya, man'

'Do you want me to lie to you like that?' Jan snorted.

'Slow death, immense decay!' The bassist continued, completely oblivious.

'The acoustic is great. If we ever get to record some serious shit, we should do it in the forest' Harald joked more or less. 'At least the vocals'

'Especially the vocals' Olve corrected. 'That's fucking cooler than my mic's effect. It's rawer, more evil'

'Drop D, overdrive at maximum and the wind whispering in the background. Imagine that' the lead guitarist suggested.

'Tuning in D is cool but overly used. I usually play in C with a lot of gain and treble' Kristian commented. 'I find it more violent this way'

'You like your tone to sound like a chainsaw. I like that' Jan let him know.

'This is the sound of despair, dude' the bassist smirked as he heard a bunch of crows screaming in the distance. 'No fancy equipment compares to what nature has to offer'

'How about we give up on going to Grieghallen and start recording fucking rooks instead?' Jan asked straightforwardly.

'Fuck yeah, I waited all day for this, Jan' Olve was quick to reply in the same flat tone.

The drummer laughed as they ventured further into dense vegetation.

It wasn't long until rain started falling again and when the light drizzle became harsher, they hurried their way to the nearest refuge.

Dirty gray walls strained by water and dark-green mold, dust was dancing in the air. All the windows were broken and the floor was covered in junk that included everything from broken bottles to empty spray cans, putrid clothes, bricks and stones. It's been long since the roof collapsed in the middle, rendering the area more exposed to the element.

It was an abandoned boarding school that didn't escape unexplored by the local youth who left its graffiti mark all around the place.

'This place is a wreck. How fucking cool' Kristian remarked as he followed his friends to the second floor.

'Yeah, and it's pretty underrated' Jan added. 'We did most of the scribblings and doodles when we were bored' he briefly gestured towards the walls.

'Shit' the rhythm guitarist cursed as a piece of cement gave up under his foot.

'You might wanna watch out. These stairs are ancient' the drummer pointed.

'Say no more' Kristian rolled his eyes and continued ascending. He could hear Olve and Harald talking above them as they already reached the next level.

'Hey! Check this out'

He turned after the drummer to see a room full of old metal-framed beds. The mattresses were missing and there was a lot of trash gathered on the ground. Looking up, he could see the hole in the ceiling and the rain that was violently falling down.

'This place looks straight out of a horror flick' Kristian noted, getting closer to the window and what was left of a rusted out radiator.

'Hey, look at this' Olve called as he grabbed a stick from a pile of rubbish and squatted down.

'What's up?' Jan asked as he came to see for himself.

'Ah, come on. It's just a dead crow' Harald rolled his eyes as he went searching for something more interesting.

'Are you gonna take that shit home?' The drummer asked, making Kristian wonder if this was a regularity.

'Not now, it still has meat on it' the bassist mumbled as he kept digging into the dead bird. 'But in a few days the maggots will pick it clean and I will get the skull'

'Brutal' the rhythm guitarist concluded.

'Isn't it?' Olve smirked. 'I like ravens. They're smart little bastards. I want to make a pendant out of a raven’s skull'

'In our mythology they represent the eye and ears of Odin. The skull embodies our mortality and it’s a symbol of transformation' Kristian briefly explained.

'I knew you were a nerd. You just gave yourself off' the bassist turned with a shit-eating grin on his face.

'Fuck off' the rhythm guitarist snickered and flipped him off.

'Hey, I didn't say it's lame. Demonaz is a big nerd too' Olve corrected himself.

'Call me a nerd for showing you how to play scales, will you?' The lead guitarist was quick to bite back.

'Yeah, well, this and losing sleep over grades. Give it a break' it was the bassist's time to argue back. 'School is fucking useless after the eighth grade, I'd rather work in a factory than attend classes daily'

'Are you sure you'd rather work?' Harald raised a doubtful eyebrow.

'Fuck no, that's why I'm making music' Olve burst into laughter.

---

Precipitations ceased from falling, allowing nature a moment of tranquility. Crickets were chirping into the crispy, Norwegian night as three tiny dots of red light were glowing from the roof.

'It's always so quiet here and it's not even that far away from the houses' Olve mumbled to himself as he blew out the poisonous fume from his lungs. 'I don't know if it's really getting foggy or it's just us puffing like an old fucking diesel engine'

'It's getting foggy' Jan agreed.

Perched on top of the building as further as possible from the pit, they were watching over the woodland that turned into a colossal mass of darkness.

The stars were out as always, but they could never see them from the impermeable vaporous thickness that was present above.

They could still feel the icy wetness in the atmosphere and smell the freshly rinsed earth as if it was right under their nose. Small sparks were flickering in the distance where civilization existed. The construction wasn't tall at all, but it seemed like it when everything else was almost entirely flat and dispersed.

'I don't know about you, but I'm in no mood for tomorrow's presentation' the drummer groaned.

'Then skip it' the bassist raised his shoulders in indifference. 'I know when I'll hit the pillow, I won't wake up until lunch' 

'Lucky you, man' Jan replied sarcastically.

'It's not luck, it's called optimal choice' Olve clarified. 'They don't teach us that, do they?'

'I agree. The system only forces you to be present somewhere and it robs you from the chance of being truly productive' Kristian entered their small chat. 'Tomorrow, I'll probably attend the first two classes while my parents go to work, after that I'll return home and play guitar' he thought out loud.

'See? Common sense' the bassist sympathized.

'It's just so stupid how people choose to invest money in a service that the government offers for free and that it's facultative after the age of 15' the rhythm guitarist rambled.

'Oh, so you’re in prep school? Aren't prep schools for girls only?' Olve couldn't hide his grin as he teased. 'But, I mean, if you light your voice a little and clip those eyebrows a bit you could totally pass-'

'Piss off!' Kristian growled, ignoring the other two that broke into copious laughter in the background.

'Awh, come on! I'm just kidding' the bassist insisted unconvincingly.

'Whatever’ The rhythm guitarist replied in annoyance.

'You need to learn to take a joke, man. That's why-' the bassist began explaining.

'That's what you're here for, right?' Harald rushed to fill his friend's words.

'Yes, exactly!' Olve agreed, satisfied.

Kristian sighed, pulling his denim jacket tighter on himself. The humid frost was letting its presence known.

'Alright, it's getting late, guys. Let's get the fuck out of here' The band leader announced as he threw the filter over the edge and got up. 'Ah, shit. Do any of you have any money for a bus ticket? I fucking lost mine'

'Here we go again' Jan commented.

'No, seriously! I can't find it in my pockets and I'm not hitchhiking to Os this late at night' Olve complained. 'Jan? Harald?' He asked as they safely made their way back inside. 'Kris? Come on, man, you afford prep school, you gotta help a brother in need'

'Jesus Christ' the rhythm guitarist groaned, finding the situation ridiculous.

'Welcome to the band, man' Jan greeted.

'Don't give him anything, he'll buy cigarettes instead' Harald instructed Kristian.

'He's full of shit, dude. Don't listen!' Olve accused as he followed his peers down the stairs and out of the building.

'Here' The rhythm guitarist gave up as he turned and pulled a banknote out of his wallet. 'But take back your stupid joke'

'Alright, fine!' The bassist conformed before snatching the money from his hand. 'Sincere apologies'

Naturally, he didn't mean his regret and he assumed that Kristian was just playing along, but nevertheless his ride home was now assured. He could tell that the newcomer wasn't the type to share nor to take any kind of humorous remarks lightly and it was just the peer pressure that allowed him an ounce of charity.

Using the faded glow of lighters as lanterns, they managed to walk out of the bushes and back on the road from where they came from.

Back at the bus stop, they could see the warm vapors of their breath all around. Olve was the first to depart, hopping in as soon as the door opened up, holding the ticket that he just bought from the driver.

'Thanks, man! See ya'

His bandmates lazily bid goodbye except for the rhythm guitarist who crossed his arms, looking just as unimpressed as he expected.

Then, ten minutes after Kristian left too.

Warm gleam from tiny houses could be seen in the distance but all the details were faded by the nocturnal obscurity and the dense mist.

He found it hard to admit to himself that he was still frustrated over an idiotic remark when he knew that it was in fact pointless, but the complexes that he was hiding had become even more overwhelming over the last few months than they were in years rendering them impossible to be ignored.

He wasn't fond of the bassist. Truth be told, he could feel a fine sense of animosity blossoming inside. It wasn't threatening to be visible yet, but it wasn't very subtle either. He tried to put his indignation aside and enjoy the rare silence of homecoming after a day that proved to be a permissible experience.

If he was entirely honest, something that he avoided at all costs, he had a good time and he would come back to hang out whenever Jan calls him over the phone.

Stopping from station to station, he could count on one hand how many people got up and down on the way to Bergen and by entering his tedious neighborhood he was the only one left to exit.

To have a moment of impulsive distraction, to be away from the prison of his own bedroom, to just exist as a brainless, irresponsible and vehemently reckless waste of breath, to kill the endless boredom, the social alienation and the teenage despair meant making friends.

There was nothing worse than making friends. 

Chapter Text

Two weeks came and passed in the blink of an eye, time in which Kristian oscillated between attending classes and hanging out with the band.

It didn't matter if he would have to travel to Lysekloster or if the three would come into town, there was always a way in which they would get together to play their instruments or to simply kill time by going places.

Needless to say, evading home had become a routine, one that didn't escape his mother’s radar, no matter how permissive he thought her to be.

Unfortunately, there was nothing that she could do considering that her brat of a son would always be long gone since her return from work, but when he would eventually come back in the dead of night, she would try with little to no success to knock some sense into him.

She didn't like the fact that he would go to dubious bars after dark no matter how much he insisted on his incontestable maturity, she knew he didn't have any. Besides, Bergen had a not-so-easy-to-ignore notoriety about being the city with the highest rate of drug consumption in Norway, so in retrospect, maternal concern shouldn't come as a novelty for him. But, of course he didn't listen, now that he got a taste of what freedom was like, now that life had a new, colorful meaning.

It was yet another Wednesday afternoon when Kristian put his fantasy lecture aside and started to get ready to go to the studio.

In a bit of a hurry, he threw on an old sweatshirt and a light-blue pair of jeans then grabbed his guitar. Passing in front of a mirror, his legs stopped before he could realize and he turned to face his reflection for a cruel inspection.

Dark eyebrows designed to frown, deep blue eyes that stared blankly back at him, a small, narrow nose and plump lips. His focus shifted to the most distinctive of his features, the hypertrophic scar that he earned only five years ago in a ski accident.

At first glance, nothing seemed wrong, but he knew he couldn't trust the looking glass. The repulsion towards his physic started growing as soon as he hit puberty with his once fair hair darkening. In time he was able to find even more flaws than he imagined. The idea that he grew in height didn't compensate for his self-hatred tendencies as his cheeks remained full, his voice didn't drop to his preference and his musculature, or rather lack of, didn't improve in any way. Observing his body irreversibly changing without being able to correct its natural defects was an undefined form of torture.

He didn't think that he would end up regretting shaving his head off so badly because now he was forever stuck at an awkward length while all of the other respectable metalheads kept their treasures long and glorious. He couldn't wait to get there, promising himself that he would never cut his locks again, but time imposed patience, patience that he couldn't have.

The lack of pimples didn't make up for the lack of facial hair and he felt some kind of wicked truth in Olve's joke. That was the whole reason why he reacted the way he did.

He detested his feminine allure with a burning passion and any remark given to this specific subject put him in a defensive position, one that could potentially give away his emotional instability. It was a great sensibility, one worth taking to his grave, especially when all he saw around his peers was masculine confidence.

How he wished he had the real deal, the self conviction that he was as regular as anyone at his age. How he wished he could rely on himself that he would eventually surpass his self doubts and the harsh commentator in his head.

Kristian turned away with a bitter face hoping that he could put his issues in the back of his mind once he met up with the others. He made a mental note to skip dinner tonight just so he could gain an ounce of control in at least one area of his life.

---

'Hey' the rhythm guitarist saluted, entering the soundproof room. 'Did you guys start without me?'

'Sorry, man. You're late to the party' Olve mocked, talking into the microphone. 'You can go back home now'

Kristian snickered and flipped his bandmate off. 'Sure I will'

'We just started' Harald explained. 'You didn't miss on anything'

'Alright, perfect' the rhythm guitarist cooed.

The session went as smoothly as usual with them exercising their best songs, discussing the new material that the lead guitarist started to compose and occasionally probing the equipment that they weren't allowed to use.

When Kristian saw the bassist pulling out his water bottle, he knew it was actually moonshine. Some kind of ‘home-made vodka' that he bought from one of his neighbors for nothing. A sip here and there was what Olve called 'voice training', but of course the rhythm guitarist could see that he was a bibulous person. Whether out in the local forest or inside an odious pub, he would always be the first to hit the bottle even on school nights.

Kristian couldn't help but pick on little cues about his individual bandmates. Hyperawareness was something that he couldn't simply turn off whenever he wanted to because hyperawareness was the organic engine that was keeping him sharp and precautious, more precisely, alive.

It was an automatic mechanism born out of his father's repetitive outbursts, a sulfurous sentiment that still lingered on after his parent's departure and complete separation from the family's nucleus.

Attacking the strings a few more times, the drums finished what was left of the song.

'Time off' Olve announced, gesturing with his hands at his bandmates. 'I need a smoke'

'You read my mind, man' Jan replied, getting up from his drum chair, fishing for his half empty pack.

'You coming?' Harald asked curiously while putting on his jacket.

'Yeah, sure' Kristian quickly pulled his guitar in the rack, took his own coat and went out after his pals.

He didn't know for sure for how long he would manage to keep his recently discovered vice away from his eternally worried mother because insisting that he was the only one in his clique that didn't smoke wasn't easy. Constantly fighting against the truth was exhausting to say the least. Lying implied maintenance and he would have to learn how to maintain his deception.

Taking the first drag was the hardest, even after three times of smoking alongside the others.

His first time was an absolute disaster that ended up in a violent hit of coughs, almost forcing him to throw up. But the first time happened behind a dumpster, on his own, away from any undesired spectators. He knew he had to get used to the nicotine so he wouldn't make a fucking joke out of himself in front of his bandmates. There was no room for such amateurish mistakes.

So, he held the smoke inside until his throat started to burn before trying carefully to release it slowly, giving off the impression that he wasn't about to gag even if nobody was paying attention to him at that moment.

He had never been interested in the dirty habit of lighting up a cancer stick and poisoning his lungs, but he would lie if he said that he didn't want to be perceived as cool as the other boys. He wanted to be part of the pack, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise. The more time he spent with his group, the more magnetized to them he felt.

Seeing Kristian with cigarettes on himself was a new notion that everyone had an odd time getting used to because of the impression they had on him. But then, the rhythm guitarist told them that he actually started smoking last year and took a break because he ‘was no addict’. A few eyebrows had been raised, but generally everyone just shrugged and took his words for what they were.

'Hey, do you have a lighter? Mine stopped working' the drummer asked and before anyone could reply, the rhythm guitarist helped him out.

'Here'

The feeling of belonging was a too rare concept. Although they pissed him off at times, right out annoy the fuck out of him occasionally, he wanted to feel included, completely incorporated and absorbed in their bubble of teenage thoughtlessness and grave impulsiveness. Naturally, he slowly started to slip through his safety net and orbit towards the vast unknown.

He could feel his fingertips getting numb from the cold exposure, so he hurried to finish up and get inside. The others followed, typically debating what they should do next.

Later on, they ended the repetition and decided to call it a day.

'Hey, I gotta help my father fix his car's motor tonight. I kinda promised I will get home after I'm done here' Jan let the others know.

'Awh, for real?' Olve questioned with disappointment in his tone. 'Harald's gonna meet up with his girl soon'

'I'm already late' The lead guitarist informed him, hurrying to pack up his instrument. 

'Sorry, man. See ya tomorrow. Have fun!' The drummer wished, a small smirk rose on his lips.

'Yeah, yeah, thanks' Harald rolled his eyes, knowing that the two idiots would tease him about his dare the second they met again.

'Kris?'

The rhythm raised his empty stare in the bassist's direction. He would lie if he said he didn't think about fucking off too after throwing an insipid excuse.

He didn't bother to mask his tired sigh. 'I'm not going home yet'

He could've left. He had plenty of better things to do other than hanging out with the one he tolerated the least, yet he foolishly chose to stay.

'Awesome, I knew you would, man!'

He didn't react when the bassist sluggishly threw his arm around his neck, hoping that his indignation about physical touch would be somehow perceived, but Olve was just so awfully oblivious that he could swear that the band leader was exasperating him on purpose.

Once out the door, two of them went on their business leaving the other two on their own.

The sun had faded hours ago, reminding Kristian just how short days were towards the end of October, giving him a false impression that he knew the meaning of time.

'The night's young. What do you wanna do?'

'I don't know. What do you suggest?'

'Hulen'

'Tsk, do you wanna go to Hulen? We would look like losers to go there alone'

'You'll look like a loser only if you think you're one'

'Right'

'Come on!'

Olve didn't waste any minute arguing semantics, he began walking and gestured with his head to come along.

'I'm not going. Wait!' the rhythm guitarist's protests expectantly fell on deaf ears.

Frustration was bubbling up, urging him to just screw it and leave right then and there, but his legs already broke into a bit of a run to catch the other metalhead up. The regret will come later and he knew that.

---

'I'm not buying you any drink tonight'

Was the first rule Kristian imposed while walking down an icy-cold, stone-made corridor.

Hulen was a student-driven rock club in the city center. As the name suggested, the place was located inside an artificial cave.

'No worries, I'm no beggar tonight' the bassist smirked as he pulled a few banknotes out of his jacket.

They could hear the music blasting out before they reached the end and when they did, they were met by their revolutionary, heavy metal kind. Waiting at the bar wasn't his decision but he would've felt awkward to just sit in a corner with no beverage while his bandmate was already halfway through his.

'Man, I love this song' Olve referred to Megadeth's' Peace Sells But Who's Buying. 'I gotta learn the intro, the bassline is fucking neat'

'I like the instrumental, but I've always hated Mustaine's voice' Kristian thought out loud.

'Nah, it's just how it's supposed to sound, you know?' The bassist commented back.

'The pitch is fucking terrible, but I'd chose it every time over yours' the rhythm guitarist teased before taking a sip of beer. He choked when his mate intentionally bumped his elbow into the hand in which he was holding the bottle.

'Easy, man. That's not orange juice' Olve uttered smugly while dissolving into laughter.

Kristian almost spilled out the booze while trying to swallow. 'I swear, you're asking for it' He gave him a murderous look but he couldn't keep a straight face anyhow. 'Keep asking for it'

'I don't know what you mean. It was a muscle jerk' the bassist objected, faking honesty.

'Watch out so I might also have a muscle jerk and throw this in your eyes' was the rhythm guitarist's last warning as he raised his nearly-full bottle.

'No, you wouldn't do that' Olve replied nonchalantly.

'Are you willing to bet?' The other dared.

'Fuck no' the band leader blurted out.

A drink followed another one and the pleasant feeling of disinhibition reached its peak.

Although a bit more talkative, if that was even possible, Olve remained fully sober due to the high tolerance that he built over years.

On the other hand, Kristian lost most of his self-consciousness only after two beers, turning not necessarily cheerful, but definitely more relaxed and in his element.

It was crude to assume that the rhythm guitarist was amiable and well disposed only when he was as drunk as a skunk and it was also embarrassing to say that 'drunk as a skunk' meant literally nothing to how much the bassist and his friends were used to, but it was  nevertheless true.

Kristian couldn't hold his liquor regardless of how much he asserted that he was perfectly coherent and in control of his body coordination, he could never fool his peers. But to see him laugh freely at the bassist's attempts of humor and exaggerated stories was still a new experience. His cheeks were red and his glance looked softer. He didn't care if his voice was too loud knowing that there was nothing that could overpower the music.

The same person, a different face.

'-and then I told them to fuck off. After that I changed the name of Kalashnikov to Uruk-Hai' the rhythm guitarist slurred his words. 'I'm getting fucking thirsty from telling you all of this crap. Hey, will you bring me another one of this?' He squinted his eyes as he mentally read the beer brand. 'It's good, surprisingly'

'Jeez, you get entitled as fuck when you drink, don't you?' Olve asked humorously.

'Piss off' Kristian giggled. 'I know you wanna get another one, so wouldn't it be more efficient if you'd go to the bar-'

'You know what? I'd rather go out for a night walk' the bassist cut him off as he stretched his back and neck, making them pop. 'My ass hurts from sitting here for so long'

'No, you brought me here' The other whined, crossing his arms in protest. 'I'm staying. It's too fucking wet and cold outside to go anywhere'

'Nah, let's go for some fresh air' Olve got up and began putting on his jacket. 'It looks like you might need some' he grinned.

'You think you're the funny guy, don't you?' Kristian asked smugly but failed because of his wasted eyes.

'I don't think, I know I am' the band leader corrected him proudly. 'Come on'

Stone pavers were glistening in the city light, cars were moving fast on narrow streets, splashing rain water and mud over curbs.

'Searching in the darkness, running from the day. Hiding from tomorrow, nothing left to say' Olve was singing above a whisper, puffing a cigarette.

'Spare me, I fucking hate Kiss' Kristian groaned, too bashed to notice the filter that was burning his fingertips.

'How do you even know it's Kiss?' 

'This shit is commercial, I've heard it all over the radio'

The bassist chose to ignore his bandmate's whines and skip to the best part.

'Ooh, we're creatures of the night!'

He smirked, delighted to piss off his friend even more. 'What? I'm in a good mood! I thought you also were a few minutes ago'

'I was fine inside' the rhythm guitarist didn't omit to reproach. 'Now where the hell are we going?'

'No idea' Olve shrugged. 'We'll figure it out' he giggled.

'How can you have the pretension of getting close to Euronymous' style if you're a bloody glamster? You know what this makes you, right?'

'Yeah, go ahead and call me a poser but make sure you don't choke on that cig'

Kristian couldn't help but laugh. 'So, you admit it'

'I don't admit anything besides having a large taste in music. You can't tell me that The Beatles didn't impress you, man'

'I wouldn't go that far'

'Sure, of course'

The rhythm guitarist picked on the other's sarcasm immediately and rolled his eyes in the process. 'Fine, I don’t listen to metal only. I like classical music too. I listen to everything by Tchaikovsky'

'You're making it up' the band leader chuckled and teased.

'I'm not!' Kristian replied offended, but also laughed. 'Fuck you'

'Man, you've got the best arguments' Olve commented. 'Anyway, amongst other extraordinary things, yesterday I picked up my guitar again'

'Do you honestly play guitar? Wasn't that a joke?'

'Nah, it's the wicked truth and I'm so fucking bad at it. I started playing bass one and a half years ago because I wanted to be like Joey DeMaio. Fun fact, I still want that. I like the lead bass kind of stuff. I might pick up on drums too, just so I can say I've done it all'

'You know you won't get half as good as DeMaio, Lemmy or Araya if you focus on multiple things at once'

'Well, here's the kicker. For me, it’s never been about just one thing. I don’t practice to become brilliant at just one instrument. It’s really about the whole package. It’s about making music. I don’t pick up the guitar if I don’t feel inspired to make music. It can just stay there for a week and I won’t pick it up'

'So, now you feel inspired?'

'Perhaps'

The midnight breeze was feverishly dancing though their damp locks as they continued to walk aimlessly, crossing streets and various open locales.

'It's quite late' Kristian broke the silence. 'Gods, I feel like throwing up' His words came out slurred and tired, not nevertheless sincere.

'Won't your parents beat your ass up if you come home drunk? You seem the type who suffers in silence' Olve cracked a joke to lift his bandmate's mood up, making him giggle in bitterness despite his physical pain.

'I might fucking leave you right now' the rhythm guitarist failed to appear threatening when he could barely walk straight.

'Awh, I knew you'd say that' the bassist smirked in triumph.

'Mother is asleep' Kristian lied. He knew she could hear the front door unlock even with five doors closed before that one and she could get up from bed faster than he could shake off his dirty shoes. 'She won't know when I get in and tomorrow any discussion will be a lost cause'

'And your father?' The band leader couldn't help but ask, certain that he will hear another fabricated excuse.

A short pause followed in which Kristian's tone became flat. 'They're divorced' he didn't like the impact of his own words, so he felt urged to add 'That's actually a good thing'

Olve could feel a slight awkwardness rising between them, so he uttered nonchalantly 'It must be' to ease his mate's tension.

It was the first time that he went out with the rhythm guitarist alone and the first time he heard him talk anything substantial about his apparently 'ideal' households. He could tell the metalhead's discomfort from a kilometer away, so he didn't doubt that there was more to his ending note than he led. After all, he slipped something trivial like all intoxicated people do.

'Anyway, she'll have to eventually get used to that. I'm being late only on weekends, this is clearly an exception' not even he believed himself. 'I'm not a hobo or a junkie.. always on the streets'

The bassist felt compelled to chuckle. 'Alright, I've got the allusion'

'What allusion?'

If one thing was certain it was that Kristian's attempts to insinuate his bandmate's undisclosed homelessness were even more obvious in the absence of lucidity.

Olve sighed, staying relaxed. 'Can't help it. I'm home alone most of the time' he felt a cynic look on him before he continued. 'My folks are split too, but I’m staying with my dad. Mom left to live the American dream'

It wasn't a drunk confession, it was a casual fact that he could've dropped at any time given.

'Really?' The rhythm guitarist asked not sure if it was yet another mockery or not.

'Yeah. She sends me postcards in which she tells me how fucking cool is there. How easy-going people are and stuff like that' Olve divulged as he strolled with his hands shoved in his pockets.

'Hard to believe' Kristian was quick to judge. 'I fucking hate consumerism and the American culture with a burning passion'

'Yeah, well, I don't give a shit about that. Honestly, I'd rather be there with her than here' The band leader freely admitted. 'I may sound like an asshole because I've got friends and a band, but I kinda like the idea of starting over'

'Tsk, I'd rather be here with my embarrassing mother than even think about living with that fucker'

Kristian's acerbic comment didn't pass unnoticed.

It was impossibly hard for the rhythm guitarist to comprehend the idea of longing to be with the parent that willingly gave up on you. Sensing that those promises were probably meant to be broken, it was an absurd wish but he refrained from making such a comment.

Yet.

'Dad's not too bad, but he's always away. He works as a truck driver and expects me to do the same after I get my license' the bassist snickered. 'We both know it won't happen.. at least I know'

'Are you sure? It sounds like your one and only vocation' Kristian teased.

'Sure it does, but no thanks' the band leader smirked but shook his head in negation.

'So you're all alone all day long, every day except for Christmas, I suppose. I don't think it can get better than that. I mean, you do pretty much everything you want' the rhythm guitarist thought out loud.

'And anytime I want ' Olve added. 'But, yeah, I'm living the dream except for when I get bored and you guys don't bother to pick up the phone to meet up, you know? And expect that I'm always broke'

Kristian chuckled. 'That's not surprising, I know what you spend money on'

'On food and shit I need around the house. I haven't sunk that low to give up on food for booze yet'. The bassist replied. 'My aunt comes monthly to give me the cash that dad sends although she keeps some for herself and she lies about it'

'Tough life' the rhythm guitarist sarcastically concluded.

'Yeah' the band leader instantly agreed.

'Money is not a problem for me'

'Say no more'

'It doesn't make things any better. I mean, it does.. but..'

The sentence remained hanging in midair while they reached the bus stop.

Frigid, but numb from alcohol consumption, their night in the town came to a mutual end.

'All buses stop functioning after 12 pm. What are you going to do?' Free from filtering his thoughts, Kristian asked. He gazed at the other metalhead who naturally didn't seem to bother except that Olve averted his eyes.

'I'll get a cab'

For once, he didn't expect that answer.

'Today was payday. Why do you think I paid for my own shit in Hulen?' A small grin started to grow on the bassist's lips. 'You've got your exceptions and I've got mine'

Kristian wanted to argue, call the other an asshole for not yet giving him the money that he was owing and choosing to waste them in the pub but instead he gave him an equally smug face, one that told the band leader all that he needed to know.

'You know tomorrow I'll be back in square one. Don’t get used to my exceptions, man'

The rhythm guitarist couldn't help but snort at bandmate's sorry state. 

'Get lost!'

Olve laughed too. 'I'll pray to Cliff Burton you forget about this in the morning. I hate paying debts'

'Keep praying' Kristian darted a well-knowing look at him.

'Night, dude'

'See you around'

With that being said, he turned to walk home.

Chapter Text

'How about we try to get a gig at Apollon?'

The mist was getting down to the ground level, covering the dark-green vegetation and the lost ruins like a translucent blanket. Nothing moved or breathed inside that dilapidated boarding school except for four souls bored out of their mind.

'I could talk with a guy who works there and maybe he could ask the owner, you know?' Olve continued to suggest while sitting cross-legged on one of the broken beds, adding just enough tobacco on his cigarette paper before rolling it. Making his own pack turned out to be much cheaper than buying one from the only store that didn't question his age.

'Yeah, as if they would waste time with a no-name like us' Harald rolled his eyes, stopping from playing his riff acoustically for just a second.

'Tsk, why you gotta be like that, dude? Maybe they'll think it's the right time to support the local elites' the bassist smirked.

'Local elites?' Kristian raised an eyebrow amusingly, sitting at the edge of the window, drinking a can of Cola.

'Absolutely' Olve stated despite the doubts visible on his bandmate's faces. 'What? I'm not the type who talks down on their own band'

'Nor realistic either' Jan snorted, commenting right after him.

With the melancholic landscape never changing, it felt like they were living the same day on infinity.

Dust was coating Kristian’s clothes from staying on the same spot all the time, but he liked the view from the window, it gazed right into the wilderness and the wilderness had always been beautiful despite the depressing weather.

'Done'

He turned his head to the band leader who was arranging all the newly-rolled cigarettes into his metal case except for one that he shoved between his lips and lit up.

'How is it?' The lead guitarist asked, seeing the bassist grimace in disgust and cough.

'Satan forbid' Olve choked before spitting out in a corner. 'It’s good'

His mates couldn't help but burst into laughter.

'Yeah, man. It surely sounds like it' Jan let him know.

'I didn't buy filters, so it feels rougher, more intense' the bassist stated as he took another hit deep into his lungs. 'Try for yourself'

The drummer took the cigarette and tested it out, just to choke. 'Jeez, it tastes like shit'

'That bad?' Harald snickered as his friends handed him the fuming poison only to have the same result. 'I can see you slowly turning into a cowboy with these. The aftertaste is fucking vile' he added in repulsion before spitting too.

Impulse and curiosity acted on simultaneously, making the rhythm guitarist speak. 'Hey, let me try too'

Olve laughed. 'These aren't your type, I'm telling you'

Kristian sighed tiredly and brought what was left of the cigarette to his mouth. He didn't even manage to take a drag as his throat instantly refused the thick smoke the second it tried to descend. He broke into coughs, throwing the rest of it onto the floor, feeling as if the air had been knocked out of him.

'See?'

He didn't care about his own misjudgment but the giggles of his idiotic mates were pissing him off greatly. 'I hope you fucking die with these'

Olve just laughed harder, finding Kristian's real annoyance nothing but pure comedy. 'Ah, how sweet are you today' Then, he bit back. 'But I'll remember that when we play live in Apollon. Watch out for your guitar cable while fretting. That's all I'm saying'

'Don't you dare' the rhythm guitarist chuckled.

'Too late, that's all I love doing' Olve commented back, lighting himself another one of those awful cigarettes.

Later in the evening when it became too frosty and damp for hanging out like juvenile vagabonds they decided to go to Jan's place to watch the Evil Dead movies once again. It was rare when the drummer was home alone and he made the unforgivable mistake to tell his peers that because they immediately invited themselves at his house, longing for a soft sofa and getting entitled to his fridge.

Passing Olve’s moonshine bottle around, the rhythm guitarist tried his best to act like the ethanol obtained from fermented cereal grains and potatoes weren't dissolving his insides. 

Just get used to it.

Most of the accommodation stage had smoothly passed, rendering Kristian able to enjoy the company of other people and their quirks, making him feel less of a stranger and more of a part that has always been with the group.

It was an eerie transition. The whole idea of letting his guard down, laughing along, being equally mean at times, having his opinions voiced out, being indifferent of the consequences of his words because he could invariably say that he was just fucking with them. It was probably what the others were practicing too, or so he thought by observing each and every one of them.

Fighting for popcorn wasn't part of his interests but commenting on the wonderful gruesomeness of the scene definitely was and he wasn't bewildered when his friends agreed that it was in fact one of the best horror flicks they've ever seen.

Out on the porch for a late nicotine call, it wasn't him who felt the need, but his bandmates. So who was he to refuse his freshly picked bad habit take over? After all, he just wanted to be like them. A carefree creature, a freak by society's rules, a ruthless revolutionist and nothing less.

'So, last night, did you get some?' Olve grinned as he shamelessly asked the lead guitarist.

'Jesus Christ, you're impossible' Harald rolled his eyes in annoyance, knowing the pornographic interrogation that followed every time he went out with his girlfriend. 'Get a hobby'

'Tsk, it looks like you didn't' the band leader mocked, faking disappointment. 'Nothing more besides kissing and shit? If I were you, I would've-'

'I don't even wanna fucking know' the rhythm guitarist replied before he could finish, already embarrassed of the subject.

'You're getting desperate, dude' Jan let his friend know. 'I mean, I'm desperate too, but I don't fucking ask shit like that' He snorted, amused by his own sorry state.

'Yeah, yeah. Whatever' Olve quickly dismissed. 'I just need to get more popular and then finding a chick won't be an issue'

'Sure, man. That's all it takes, you know?' The drummer asked rhetorically.

'Chicks play hard to get until they hear the name Abbath Doom Occulta. I should've probably named the band like that' he more or less joked.

'Yeah, we're glad you didn't' Harald remarked, snickering.

'Worst case scenario, you can always hit a brothel once you are 18' Jan suggested smoothly.

'Thanks, man. I can't wait to pay for sex when I get older' the bassist nodded sarcastically.

The others couldn't help but laugh out loud.

'I said worse case scenario-'

'It's always the worst case scenario for me. Don't worry'

Giggles and teasing allusions went back and forth while Kristian began thinking of his own controversies.

It wouldn't be fair to say he never thought about the infinite attention that would come from a romantic partner, but the idea of being caught in some sort of commitment didn't sit right with him.

He didn't believe in love or his capability of loving and that was nothing but expected from what he saw in his family's history.

Maybe the whole sentimental side was a far-fetched fantasy, something to make people feel less shameful about pleasing their carnal desires. After all, humans are just upright walking animals, programmed to satisfy themselves in all sorts of material, illicit and explicit ways, deceiving one another with suitable impressions of care when in fact they are as selfish and scrupulous as they were meant to be.

It would be nice to play pretend, to woo a nameless lady to win her heart so he could have an endless source of admiration, to be told how great he was in inescapable moments of weakness, to be cherished and adored for who he was or who he was not, to finally be important, indispensable even.

But he wouldn't bother to get there, at least not yet when his self-hatred was at its highest peak. Not now when he couldn't stand his own pathetic reflection, but in time, maybe in time he would start searching for that tempting stranger whoever it might be.

'There's nothing lower than paying for sex' 

Eventually, Kristian entered their trivial conversation.

'Really?' Olve snorted. 'Then what do you suggest instead?' I'm not famous yet, nor have I entered a brothel in my entire life, but I think I could. If I'm able to drink and smoke, than I'm more than able to fuck'

'Dude-' Jan giggled only to be cut off.

'I mean, come on! It's a port city! Aren't port cities known for cheap whores and good fun? Or is it that everybody ran to the capital? Fuck Oslo! Anyway-'

Maybe the bassist was right in his self-roast. Maybe he was beating a dead horse.

'Ugh' the rhythm guitarist groaned in indignation and gave up talking, being interrupted too many times.

The others stopped mid-sentence as they heard the telephone ringing.

'Shit. I think it's my folks' the drummer thought out loud as he rushed inside, leaving the front door open. 'You guys shut the fuck up, alright? They don't know you're here'

'Tell your mom I say hi!' Olve shouted from outside.

'Fuck you, man!' Jan yelled back and finally picked up.

The pale moon was shily shining from the clouds, stars were glistering in the distance and small thunders could be heard through the rural silence.

'It's getting late, I guess' Harald lazily remarked.

'It looks like a storm is about to start soon' Kristian added, catching sight of a lightning cutting through the overcast. 'I should get going'

'Yeah, me too' the lead guitarist cooed.

'Eirik called. We can't have the studio free tomorrow. Mayhem is coming to record their album' Jan announced as he returned.

'Nah! You're fucking with us!' Olve blurted out in disbelief.

'I'm not' the drummer confirmed before turning his head to the lead guitarist. 'He called you earlier'

'Well, shit. I wasn't home' Harald shrugged. 'So, what do we do?'

'He said he's gonna be busy this week. I guess I'll call him on Monday' Jan let them know.

'Damn, is there any chance we get to see these guys there?' The bassist asked hopefully.

'I don't know. I don't think so' the drummer replied. 'Anyway, my parents should return by now'

'Alright, fine, we're going' the band leader concluded for everyone.

As Harald went home, Olve and Kristian made their way to the bus stop.

The air felt light and there was an electric nuance to the atmosphere. No drop was falling from the sky yet but they rushed their pace just so they didn't push their luck.

'Mayhem is coming. Can you believe that? Euronymous will be here' The bassist chuckled.

'That's really fucking brutal' the rhythm guitarist smirked at the realization. 'I already can't wait for their next release'

'Did you know that they changed their vocalist recently?'

'Did they?'

'Yeah. I've read in an interview that they've got a Swede in the band now'

'Tsk, a Swede?'

'Yeah, he calls himself Dead. He's a really weird guy but in the best way! They say he's possessed or mentally insane or something. They want to get even more extreme, more degenerated and that's all I fucking want to hear'

'You sound like a groupie. I don't think I've ever heard about this guy'

'Then, let's go there tomorrow and meet them'

Kristian stopped in his tracks and chuckled. 'Are you for real?'

'Why not? They'll probably take plenty of breaks and be there the whole day' Olve shrugged. 'What if we get to hear their new stuff before everyone else does? Wouldn't that be fucking awesome?'

'It definitely would' the rhythm guitarist smirked.

'So, do we go to see them after classes?' The bassist continued to persuade.

'Fuck yeah, we do' Kristian confirmed.

'Nice'

It was all set.

Tomorrow was the day in which they will have the chance to see one of their metal idols, the most infamous, satanic and blasphemous band from Oslo. The one who pierced through the monotonous Scandinavian society and spat in the eyes of religion. The one whose influence was rooted deeply in both the bassist and the rhythm guitarist, inspiring them to venture further and further to the very edge of musicality, into a direction that was darker than anything else known.

Kristian couldn't wait for it.

---

Reaching his quiet street, he could see the light in the kitchen shining through the curtains, indicating to him that she was still waiting, but for how long?

How much more could she endure his obnoxious attitude and misbehavior? She must have gotten tired but she’s too stubborn to give up , that was the wishful thought that Kristian was holding on as he pushed the door open. To make her stop controlling his life he must keep figuratively hitting where it hurts, so she ultimately acknowledges that he is a lost cause.

But to his own surprise, she forecasted his tactics and she beat him at his own game with one hidden card that she kept all along. A fatal last resort.

'There you are'

Kristian's blood ran cold in his veins as his intoxicated mind sobered up instantly, entering a fight or flight reaction.

'Where do you think you’re coming from at this hour??'

He looked at him like he would look at a giant, ready to be crushed like an ant when in reality there were only ten centimeters between their heights. His father was home.

'What the hell?' He mumbled, spotting his mother in the background. Her hands were crossed and there was an undeniable exhaustion mixed with prolonged disappointment on her face.

'Your father came over to take some documents and he wanted to see you' her voice came flat as she fixed her eyes on her distressed offspring. 'I told him that you got out of hand. The school principal calls me almost daily to tell me that you skip classes. I never find you home when I come from work because you're always out and about. I can’t tolerate this anymore-'

'Where do you come from? Answer me!'

She got cut by her ex-husband's anger as he took a step closer to his insufferable son, apt to start an argument at 1:30 in the morning.

'I went out with some friends! It's not a big deal, I'm not a kid anymore-'

'You drank'

'I just had a beer, I swear! I-'

'And how fucking old are you to have a beer? What does your mother work for? What do I pay support for?? For you to be out on the streets instead of going to school?!'

He didn't dare to tell his father that he lost all interest to continue his education, not when he stood so close to him that he could practically feel the heat of his explosive rage.

'I do everything for you and this is how you-'

'This is the problem! You do everything for him but he doesn't deserve that! You spoil him rotten and he doesn’t give a damn about anything!'

He watched his father turn slightly to argue with his mother. History was repeating itself over and over again. When the shockwave left him, what came next was a gigantic wave of frustration. It was time to stand up for himself.

'You act like everything I do is a fucking tragedy! I hate high-school because it doesn't offer me anything useful! It's a waste of time-'

'And what you do instead is somewhere more useful than that? Where do you think you're going to end up once you reach 18?? I will tell you where-'

'I don't care! I'm sick of listening to this bullshit! I want to think for myself! I can’t stand being the fucking sheep that you force me to be!' Kristian raised his voice again, spitting out words of defiance to fight back his father's venom. 'I'm sick and tired to be treated like a fucking child, I'm 16 for fuck sake! I want to live my life the way I-'

But his sentence had never been finished as a sharp pain spread across his face. He thought he heard his mother's voice calling his father's name in concern, before declaring 'Enough', but one slap across her son’s cheek has never been enough.

He felt his shoulders being grabbed before the back of his head hit the wall behind and when his focus returned, he saw his father looking him dead in the eye. He opened his mouth to ferociously shout at his parent to let go when he heard his pack falling out of his pocket. His stomach dropped in sheer panic.

Looking down at the unmistakably pack of Kent and back at his audacious son, the man's jaw tightened and stare hardened.

'I don't-these are not mine-'

'Out'

Kristian had no chance to lie as he was shoved out of the door after one dangerously quiet word.

'Get out of my fucking house!' His father yelled, vexation exploding from within. 'You want to live your life? There you fucking go!'

He almost fell on his knees from the push as he slipped a brief 'Wait!' but the door had been shut in his face, then double locked with the key. The faint sound of the fallout being carried on inside started immediately with his mother's shouting back at the man who acted out of impulse on his youngest son again, but he knew that it was over for him. Any chance he might have had to get to his bedroom tonight had been completely erased. Any thought that he could have defended himself in front of his all-time nightmare were now gone as he was left in the pouring rain like a stray animal.

With nothing left but an acidic fury boiling inside his veins and a shattered, completely broken ego, he turned his back to his own house and left.

It was always when his father's presence surfaced that he came face to face with his worst fears imaginable and with everything he hated and despised, everything that made him the wreck that he was.

There was no escape for him at all, that was the message that oddly appeared in every dreadful circumstance that Kristian was caught in. No matter if he was here, physically existing in the same house of horror with him or if he was away, thousands of kilometers away, he could always reach him.

Kristian could without fail throw all the blame at him for ruining his life in one way or another, for expecting perfection and the best performance from his two sons by forcing them in an endless competition with each other, for cheating and abandoning the sacred core that he created, it had never ever been sacred at all. Kristian could detest his father for as much as he wanted because he could never detest his mother and the way she watched more than she intervened in what was happening before her eyes.

He loved her like any child would, he could get along with her and be reasonable for most times. He could do that for her. Yet, she chose to betray him. She allowed him inside when she knew the fight was coming.

Muddy sneakers were carelessly stepping into puddles as he dragged his tired legs through the city. Walking aimlessly into the night while soaked to the bone was a novelty that he never wanted to experience.

She knew the price and she still paid for it, setting her son a night worth remembering for the worst.

How could you?

Fists tightened in his pockets at one of the questions that he never found an answer to.

What was meant to be accomplished other than even more bad blood within the family?

After all those years in which she remained alone, living off the good, old money that she managed to obtain after the divorce, she yet didn't learn that violence will always birth more violence. It was ridiculous, absolutely absurd to dig out all of her character’s defects after one miscalculated move, but he couldn’t surpass her betrayal.

She let him in..

..they waited together..

An temporal alliance to punish their youngest child, the scapegoat.

The very reason why his trust had been hopelessly dissolved. If one couldn't have faith in their own kind then how could they have faith in a world of strangers?

Sitting on the staircase of an apartment building, watching the heavy rainfall while drops were falling from the edge of his clothes and hair threw him into a state of emotional numbness.

His heart was aching for how underhanded he had been played with. It hurt, making him swore to himself that he would close in even more than he did before. It stung, pushing him to become an even worse critic of himself for being so naive to believe that she would somehow leave him be in his own element, have friends, have fun for at least once in his life.

The thought of finding the closest telephone and calling his bandmates to seek real shelter until morning briefly crossed his mind but he brushed it off immediately thinking that he would have to come up with an explanation other than the acrid truth that he was kicked out.

Fuck it.

It was the predictable conclusion when no deceptive inspiration nor energy could be found and like that he was left with the anger that never faded. And it grew inside him like a parasite, infesting him at times of desperation and hopelessness.

In the blink of an eye, something shifted from within. It was strange how he could feel every other emotion turning off except for the wrath and nothing escaped his wrath, not even himself.

Out in the open, the rain died down, making room for the fog to curl around the lampposts. He didn't have a clue what he wanted to do other than bursting out in one way or another, freeing his ballistic anger.

A small spark went out into the darkness, illuminating his face in a faint shade of amber. The flame of his Zippo lighter was lively dancing, reflecting in the black emptiness of his pupils, waiting for him to make a move. There was nothing that he could use, nothing to pull him out of the spiral and before he knew it, he threw the lighter into an open garbage can.

A thin cloud of smoke began to elevate into the night as the pungent smell of burnt plastic started to attack Kristian's nostrils. It all happened too fast and too favorable at once. Slowly, shy flames were surfacing turning into a grandiose blaze.

Glued to the asphalt, he remained there watching out of his body the enchanting chaos that he just provoked on a dead end street. He could finally feel the corporal manifestation of his fury warming up his face and chest as he forgot to breathe. The fire rapidly extended from a can to another, black smoke aggressing his lungs, urging him to realize the gravity of what he had done.

They pushed him to do it.

In his eyes, she broke an untold vow and he ripped him open, humiliating him.

It didn't matter if she would apologize the next day, the damage was done. He didn't want her to compensate him with material goods, he was sick and tired of such irreproachable superficiality.

Money could never make up for her fatal mistakes.

The vexation that he was choking with had finally reached its climax, throwing him back into the present where he broke into a sprint.

Two streets away from the ingrowing inferno, he could already hear the sirens screaming into the night. He lowered his head, as if to pass unnoticed by the ghosts around him and finally disappeared between tall buildings. 

Chapter Text

In the early hours of morning he could feel his legs giving up from walking just so he wouldn't slip into hypothermia because of his rain-soaked clothes.

Around 7am, he returned home. Contrary to his grim expectations, he was able to turn the doorknob and get it, feeling a brusque wave of warmth hitting his numb face. His father left, shifting once again into a somber memory that he had to shelter away from his conscience for one more time.

'Oh, god'

He heard his mother whisper as she saw him, then rushed to check on his state.

What was the point? The betrayal had been done and there was virtually nothing that she could do anymore to rebuild the trust that's been broken. After all, last night was the last straw.

Questioning him where he had been and if he was alright was a waste of breath but he was too exhausted to pull away from the hand that was placed on his forehead to test his rising temperature.

How he hated her emotional inconsistency. She was never mad when she should've been and when she finally did something to reinforce authority in front of him, she messed up everything. Now she was dissolving in empty apologies and a fake yet indisputably alluring motherhood instinct.

He ached to feel the love that he never truly received but deep down he knew she wasn't capable of that. Or was she?

'Your face is burning. I will call the school and tell them that you're sick. You're not going anywhere like that' she rambled as if truly concerned. 'I'm sorry for what happened, I didn't know-'

'You did'

It was the only thing he could voice out of his sore throat. She opened her mouth to talk again, possibly to lie about not knowing what the man that she brought into their house was truly capable of, but she made up her mind and changed the subject.

'Go take a bath. I will make some tea to bring down your fever'

And with that being said, she turned to the kitchen, leaving him in an internal battlefield once again.

Maybe something inside her finally shifted? Maybe she started to learn from her gravest mistakes? His tired mind started to dwell into delusional thinking, making him wonder if redemption was truly possible but before he knew it, he heard her calling from the other side of the bathroom door.

'I'm going to work now. I left you tea in the kitchen. If you don't feel well, take some money from the drawer and go to the pharmacy'

Her undertone remained light, yet detached, rendering her to be the paradox that she always was. The one he loved but couldn’t love to the fullest.

How foolish of him.

Some things never change no matter how much he wished they did. Kristian sighed heavily, pulling the plug out of the bathtub and getting up from the soothingly warm water.

Back in the kitchen, he took the cup that she made for him and returned to his darkened bedroom, ready to crush on his bed and forget about the world for as long as he could.

Fever dreams were nothing but obscure snippets of the things that he wanted to forget. The heated arguments between his equally stubborn parents, the rancid smell of alcohol in his father's breath hidden by diluted cologne, the endless times in which his mother was too busy to try and rebuild her life to pay attention to him, the disheartening times in which he was competing with his older brother for being their parent's favorite child, the schools he changed, the accident he suffered, everything that was kept at safe distance turned around to him, plaguing his sleep.

All it took was one person to pull the trigger.

When he woke up, he realized the daylight was almost gone, leaving him in a comfortable gloom.

He made the mistake to get out of bed, stirring up an unwelcome migraine.

The tea got cold on the nightstand, waiting to be consumed. Instead, he took the cup and emptied it into the kitchen sink. He could feel his head boiling and nausea worsening by minute, deciding for him that he was in no shape to leave the house. The clock was quietly ticking, showing 6:30 on its face. His mother was on her way home or so he thought.

Without meeting with his bandmates to sneak around the studio to get a glimpse and an autograph from one of the most influential people in the country's underground's scene, he considered the day ruined, wasted down the drain.

Fuck it.

Was the final verdict as he stopped obsessing over the opportunity he's lost and the unrequired cold he caught and went to grab something to eat in hopes that his body was strong enough to fight the viruses without any immediate medication.

With a bowl of warm milk with crispy cornflakes, resting on the couch in front of the TV was how his mother found him when she arrived from work.

Kristian spared her any chances to talk with him as he disappeared in his own bedroom for the rest of the evening. He didn't feel like looking her in the eyes, not after her cognizant resolution to play a dirty card and expect him to forgive and forget.

Pointless , he thought as he heard her chatting on the telephone in the living room, most certainly letting the memory of her son's sickness slip away with other trivial things.

...it's the same as it's always been..

Time again, he turned to his beloved books, reading paragraph after paragraph in hope to be extracted out of his physical form, in hope for sleep to come easily and bring refreshment.

---

'Dude! Where the fuck have you been yesterday? You said you'll come meet the guys with me'

Olve asked loudly as he saw Kristian stepped out of the autobus to meet up with his mates.

The rhythm guitarist discreetly sighed in indignation, knowing that he won't get away too easily without explanation. 'I caught a cold and decided that lurking around the studio like a fucking dog wasn't really worth it' it was rare that telling the truth was actually the best option but he was too sick to make up any pertinent excuse.

'Awh, you're too sensitive. Check out what you just lost' the band leader unzipped his jacket to show the autographs that he's got on his Mayhem hoodie. 'It's done in white paint spray so it won't wash out' he grinned proudly. ‘Clever, right?’

'Yeah, well done' Kristian rolled his eyes. 'Let's go into the woods'

Jan snorted at how quickly the rhythm guitarist brushed off the bassist while Harald got up from the bench. 'Fine, let's go'

Their usual path was overflowed with mud. The forest could never dry up due to the precipitation's abundance, allowing moss to grow like poison ivy on the tree trunks and rocks. The scenery was placid, soothing for his unmotivated irritability and still-lingering lethargy in his bones.

'Have you guys heard about that fire in Åsane?' Harald wondered, interrupting the others from their heated debate about expensive distortion pedals.

'What?' Kristian thought out loud.

'Yeah, they wrote about in the news' Olve was quick to reply. 'Something in a trash can caught fire and it caught another can trash and a tree nearby. Somebody saw the blaze and called the firefighters. Apparently, It was a big deal. It smoked up the entire neighborhood'

'Do you really read the news, man?' Jan questioned in mockery.

'You think I've got something better to do while waiting for my frozen pizza to thaw?' The bassist bit back rhetorically. 'But anyway-'

'Did the news give any details about what might have happened?' The rhythm guitarist couldn't help but get curious about the follow-up and anxious at the thought of being unintentionally seen by a random bystander.

'Not really' Olve frowned, trying to remember. 'It must've been a hobo who threw a lit cigarette or something like that. They didn't mention anything but do you wanna go and check out the place?'

'Maybe later' the drummer replied before the others.

'Ugh, I'm not taking the bus one hour to see some burnt trash' the lead guitarist deadpanned.

'Fine, just saying' the band leader shrugged.

The answer didn't satisfy Kristian exactly, but it brought a bit of closure.

He didn't put much thought into the outcome of his fury, on the contrary, he tried to lock the offense away as something that never happened, too overwhelmed to take responsibility for what he had done. But one thing was certain.

It felt good.

Destroying a piece of public property was the temporal equivalent of destroying the most loathed object of his frustration. It provided him with a unique type of mental release never experienced before.

Fire always looked attractive, alluring in a way that he couldn't quite explain, undeniably tempting due to its irreversible damage like the one that had been done to him. But he fell out of his comfort zone, never before lashing out so thoughtless and so brusque, never in an open area.

He didn't care to dig into the aftermath of his transgression simply because it couldn't be that significant. But he heard the sirens coming, that's why he left in a hurry.

He should've known better.

---

'Jeez, I'm not drinking tonight'

It was Harald's word against his bandmates.

A cold luminescence was seeping through the tree's tall ramifications. The sky appeared mat, a dull mass of nothingness gazing over the quiet landscape. From the roof of a lost building somewhere in the forest, they waited for the nocturnal darkness to prevail.

'You're no fun, you know that?' Olve teased, sharing his bottle with the other two. 'It's freezing balls outside, how else to stay warm?'

Regardless if the bassist had a valid point or not, the lead guitarist rolled his eyes and stood his ground.

Kristian was getting drunk on school nights way too often for his own physical comfort and self-trust.

Not even 48 hours had passed since that spiteful fight at home and he had already returned to the vice that brought him troubles in the first place. But this time, the emptiness that he was left with was so utterly persistent that he couldn't care less if he repeated the same mistake over and over again.

What was there that he hadn't seen yet in his father's storms of rage? What was worse than being thrown in the streets for yet another foul night? The taste of liberty was burning on his throat since that Slayer concert in Oslo. In time, he would get used to it.

'Carcass launched a new LP a few days ago. Symphonies of Sickness or something like that' Jan informed them, blowing out nicotine smoke. 'Gotta check that out'

'Not a fan of goregrind. Everything sounds the same' Kristian stated boringly.

'I've heard this one is pretty good-' the drummer replied.

'Every band in which you can actually hear the bass line is fucking awesome' Olve cut him off with his much obvious opinion. 'Man, I'd kill to see them live'

'Really?' The rhythm guitarist snorted. 'You might have to buy a ticket to Stockholm for that-'

'Tsk, it's not fair. Why does every good band have to play in Sweden? There was only one fucking metal show in Oslo worth coming in the last 5 years for and I fucking missed it because I was broke' the band leader ranted, quite frustrated.

'Because they're far more liberal than us. This means more opportunities for international bands to come' Kristian explained as a matter of fact. 'Maybe that's one thing that I'm envious of'

'They've got nice chicks there. You can't deny that' Olve smirked, giving his friend a playful look.

'I can't. Neither that or that they're so out of your league' the rhythm guitarist didn't actually joke, but his peers laughed out at the blunt truth. Everyone but the bassist who huffed.

'Look who's talking! Have you ever talked with a girl? Your mom doesn't count'

'Of course I did, you dipshit' Kristian smirked while his lie was painfully obvious but he massively doubled that anyone could tell.

As the night came down the clique broke. Harald made a last-minute decision to go home earlier and try to study for the next day's exam while Jan left when the damp cold and hunger won against his stubbornness.

'Hey, do you wanna go into town?'

Kristian thought for a second before shrugging. 'Sure'

He wasn't fond of the bassist but hanging out with him alone just happened to be a less terrible idea than going home right now.

The paranoia that imminent danger was waiting at the door distracted him while being stuck in the bus for an hour with Olve talking and talking about how great Gene Simmons is.

'So, after I saw them live I started collecting everything I could from posters to cards and records. All the walls in my room are covered with Kiss, dude. They're really gods with instruments-' the bassist suddenly stopped rambling. 'Do you even fucking listen to me?'

'Huh? Yeah' Kristian lied, catching only the last phrase.

'Yeah, yeah. For sure' the band leader rolled his eyes. 'What's on your mind? Spill it out'

It was an unexpected question from someone who usually didn't gave a flying fuck if his peers payed attention to their rambles or not.

'Nothing' the rhythm guitarist instantly brushed the bassist off.

‘Thinking about all the girls you never talked to?' Olve poked fun at him, a grin stretching on his lips. 'Don't worry, there's a start for everything-'

'Of course, at least I'm not losing sleep over remaining a sad virgin for life'

'Not for life, but until I become a rockstar'

'Chances are you'll do drugs before you start talking with a girl-'

'Oh, yeah? Cause it feel like I'm talking with one right now'

Olve watched in delight how his bandmate's jaw dropped and burst into copious laughter.

'Fuck you' Kristian snarled back at him, meaning every word but his short temper only encouraged the bassist's giggles.

'Ah, alright, sorry but not sorry. I couldn't help it!'

Kristian sighed loudly and turned his attention to the window, starting to count minutes until they finally arrived in town.

---

Eternally-wet pavement was glistering in the warm light of lampposts.

The garbage cans were gone, the only reminder that they were there was the blackened spot on the asphalt looking like a void and what was left from the tree.

The miasma of ashes was still ingrained in the zone where it all took place, leaving Kristian stare, seeing flashes of flames inside his mind.

It felt too real.

'So, why didn't you come yesterday?'

'Mm?'

The rhythm guitarist turned his head to the bassist, processing the question. They began walking out of the area on a narrow street.

'You seemed really excited to meet Euronymous and stuff and then you disappeared the next day. With a cold or not, you would've just come. I know that much' Olve squinted his eyes, a subtle smirk appeared on his face indicating that he could see through the other's façade.

'Are you willing to bet I would have come?' Kristian asked in a smoothly superior tone.

'If I had any money, perhaps' the band leader shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets.

'I had better things to do than waiting in the rain for some people that I will probably see playing anytime soon' the rhythm guitarist spoke with hostility, feeling cornered at his bandmate's insistence.

'Right, right. I forgot you can get anything' Olve commented. 'But seriously now-'

'Just drop it. I told you I wasn't feeling good and I didn't fucking want to get worse' Kristian sighed, exasperated. 'Why is it so hard to get it?'

'Well, you acted like you had a stick up your ass all day' the bassist replied with honesty. 'I mean, worse than on a daily basis, so I figured it had something to do with abandoning the plan yesterday'

Was he really that observant?

It was hard to believe, but even harder to come up with a motive when alcohol was running through his bloodstream.

'Tsk, it has nothing to do with anything. You're making shit up' Kristian slurred, averting his eyes.

'Alright, fine. Keep it like that' Olve replied in a light tone. 'But that bruise on your face isn't really discreet, you know?'

The rhythm guitarist acted before thinking, raising his hand to his cheek. It looked better than the day before, but apparently not good enough to pass unnoticed.

'Piss off' he replied in indignation, not realizing just how evidently bothered he was because of his inebriation.

Olve just laughed like an idiot to stir another great reaction from his bandmate. 'You're fun, man. I like that'

'Yeah? Aren't you jealous?' The rhythm guitarist asked passive-aggressively.

'Nah, nobody beats me!' The band leader stated loudly. 'And the thing is, I don't even try to be the funny guy. Charisma, originality and great vocals are all natural talents of mine, it’s just that no record label discovered me yet'

Kristian couldn't help but snort. 'You put a lot of faith on the word yet'

'And that's for a good reason because I know I'll make a name in the metal scene' Olve added. 'I fucking want that more than anything'

'Ugh, why would you want to know? Good musicians should remain underground. Being mainstream is fucking atrocious'

'Aw, how nice to call me a good musician-'

'Fuck off, I wasn't talking about you!'

But despite his annoyance, the rhythm guitarist giggled. How he hated when someone was able to somehow trick him out of his nihilistic misery.

'Well, I don't want to go mainstream but I want to be as good as the others' the bassist explained. 'All the guys I look up to made a career out of what they were passionate about. Why can't I do the same thing? I don’t give a damn about anything else but music. Fuck society's rules'

Kristian couldn't agree more, but he didn't want to inflate the other metalhead's ego any more than it already was.

'It's probably now that society goes in the worst fucking direction since industrialization. There's so much coercion to follow facultative education and don't fucking want any education especially because I don't find anything useful. I want to see how far I can go playing guitar. It's all I want to invest in'

'This, Kent and blonde beer' Olve shamelessly commented.

'Whatever' Kristian rolled his eyes, irked by the extended truth. 'I don't even drink that much'

'Of course, that's why you're drunk right now' the bassist let him know.

'It's because of the pressure!' The rhythm guitarist blurted out. 'Fuck that! I didn't want to get drunk, come home and have another night fucking ruined'

'So, that's it? You got drunk, got home and your mother slapped you?' 'What a fuss for that, man-'

'It wasn't her!'

He didn't notice how a pair of dark-brown eyes switched their attention to him.

'Did your dad come home?'

Every word he divulged felt like teeth being plucked out of his mouth but now it was too late to hide what was eating him from the inside.

'Did he?'

The anger returned, dictating a visceral admission.

'They waited for me'

The reality didn't sound pleasant on his tongue even after a day of self-reflection. Truthfully, it probably never will.

'He started scolding me about school and stuff like he has the fucking nerve to expect something from me!' Kristian confessed in bitterness. Already embarrassed, he decided to change the too personal subject. 'Whatever-'

'And what did you do?' The bassist didn't let go easily.

'I fucking left' the rhythm guitarist lied through his teeth. Under pressure, it always came involuntarily. He would do everything he could to protect his fragile ego and unjustified pride. 'What else to do?'

Olve chuckled, taking in the new piece of information that the other would certainly regret once sobriety settles. But until then, he pushed his luck further.

'And where did you go all night? Just stood out in the pissing rain?' The band leader asked rhetorically, yet intrigued. He saw a cynic smile being sketched on Kristian's face from the corner of his eye. Light, honey-coloured hair obstructed the rest of his view, but he recognized the look of revolt.

'Not for too long' the other replied nonchalantly, walking at an unhurried pace. 'I made a fire to keep myself warm after the storm stopped. Didn't expect it to make the news though'

Olve snickered, giving his mate a much doubtful glance. 'Seriously? You did that?'

It was Kristian's turn to ask nonchalantly. 'What? You don't think I could?'

'Tsk, hard to believe so' the bassist admitted. 'You seem too shy to act out'

'Do I seem fucking shy to you?' The rhythm guitarist didn't mask his offended tone, instead he gave the other a sharp-cutting glance.

'I would say that' Olve replied unimpressed by his bandmate's daring voice. 'How did you do that?'

'I threw a lighter in the can' Kristian replied casually. 'It lit up like a torch'

'What a waste of money' Olve commented. 'You could've have a smoke and chill out'

'My pack fell out of my pocket while arguing with them' the rhythm guitarist revealed on impulse.

'Ah, so that's when the shit hit the fan-' the bassist thought out loud.

'It doesn't matter' Kristian cut him off. 'Everything that happened is irrelevant at this point. I fucking made the news and I kind of like that' a prideful smirk crossed his chapped lips. Owning more and more of his act of violence by minute.

'Well, you fucking did it' Olve let him know, not sure if he was still pocking fun at his hazardous bandmate or not. 'Congratulations'

The rhythm guitarist took the words as sarcastic and frowned unsatisfied. 'Better don't let this slip'

'Oh, you think I might snitch on you?' The band leader asked humorously. 'It's just a small fire, man. It's not like you got away with murder'

He refrain from making a salty comment only to be caught off guard with yet another impertinent question.

'So, when do you do it next?'

'What?'

For a second, he thought he heard it wrong.

'Thought you had fun making a bonfire. Angry or not, I would do it just to see what happens' Olve shrugged indifferently. 'But there's no fun in doing it alone'

'Do you wanna burn a fucking trash can?' Kristian snorted, amused and baffled at the same time.

'Not necessarily. Burn stuff, write stuff on public walls, break into cool places all the good fun that I don't find mates up for' the bassist casually explained. 'Nothing too absurd'

Tsk, nothing too absurd' the other metalhead commented right after. 

Chapter Text

Days were running fast when he was having fun. At the studio, they were fooling around more often than they were actually rehearsing, but he didn't mind that anymore.

Cracking open cans of the cheapest beer they could get their hands on and cracking jokes about Harald's debilitating shyness to move to the next base in his relationship were parts of the program.

'The man of Ea am I, the man of Dakima am I!' Olve growled into the microphone. 'The messenger of Markuk am I! My spell is the spell of Ea!'

Swift guitar riffs and interrupted tremolo picking were going off in the background together with chaotic drums and the low buzz of the bass.

It was a subtle shift in their style as the rhythm guitarist started to assist the lead guitarist in composing lyrics for the band. The certified sound of violence was slowly pushed into a direction of mysticism inspired by Tolkien's fantasy and Norse mythology. It was Kristian's personal touch and what Abbath considered to be the 'closest' they could get to Mayhem and Bathory's sound while still remaining original and fairly distinctive.

Pushing his wild light-brunette hair out of his sweaty face as the noise died down, the bassist put a crooked, hand-rolled cigarette out of his pocket and between his lips. 'This one was fucking awesome. We need more stuff like this'

'I'm working on something right now but it's quite good so I decided to use it for my own project instead' Kristian smirked teasingly, just to touch a nerve.

'Ugh, where is your devotion, dude?' Olve asked dramatically, grabbing his jacket and going out for a quick nicotine break. 'Why do we always come second best?

The rhythm guitarist just smiled, intentionally omitting an answer. He left his instrument leaning on one of the amplifiers as he followed his bandmates out in the freezing cold.

November was lifeless as autumn was rapidly coming to an end. The sky was pitch black and it wasn't even 5 pm. The vaporous poison that was forced on a daily basis into his lungs became easier to tolerate by his body, alleviating his worries about seeming unskilled in front of his tribe.

'Maybe we should release a demo with what we've done so far' Olve suddenly suggested. 'We've got a few songs already recorded. We can talk with Eirik and see if he's got some time for us'

'That'd be cool but I don't know, man. Do we really sound like something someone would listen to?' Jan couldn't help but ask doubtful.

'Of course!' The bassist was quick to reply. 'There's no other band in Bergen more extreme than us-'

'Or more broke' Harald added. 'You know you gotta pay for this demo, don't you?'

'Bold of you to assume I didn't think about everything' Olve teased, overly confident as usual. 'If you guys talk with your folks-'

'Forget it. I barely managed to convince them to get me this Jackson' the lead guitarist brought up his newest acquisition and the improbability to ask for something more.

'I could try, but there's no way I'm paying for everything' The drummer let them know.

'Kris?' Lazy, brown eyes turned their attention to a menacing pair of deep blue. 'You know we count on you, brother'

'Get lost' the rhythm guitarist blurted out without a second thought. He took a last drag of his cigarette before throwing it out on the asphalt. 'I'm not your fucking personal bank account'

'No, but you're our last hope, dude'

Kristian chuckled, knowing that none of his words entered Olve's ears and they probably never will.

He couldn't even begin arguing about the bassist's innate hypocrisy of being balls-deep credited to all of his peers for a ton of trivial things, including alcohol and never ever bothering to pay anyone back on the day that he receives his monthly cash. It didn't take much until he realized that it was just another 'Abbath thing' to fool people, intentionally or not, to get you what you wanted all along.

The rhythm guitarist failed to understand how that principle was working because he vehemently refused to blame it on the band leader's charisma.

'So, what are you guys up to after we finish here?' Jan asked, the wind blowing mercilessly upon his face.

'I've heard it's a party in Hulen tonight' Olve replied, sucking one more time what was left of his cigarette before throwing it in the darkness. 'How about we crash it?'

'It would be fucking great only if it wasn't in the middle of the week, you know?' Harald was quick to remind him.

'Awh, come on! Don't be such a killjoy' the bassist insisted.

'We've got classes, man, and you too' Jan emphasized.

'Don't start this shit now-'

'Well, I can't deny it. My parents actually give a fuck if I go to school or not, you know?'

The drummer's words came out as less of a joke and more of an actual allusion, but the band leader played oblivious as any other time.

'Sure, fine. You do you. I'll tell you all about the chicks I'm going to kiss' Olve grinned and crossed his arms.

'Yeah, and tell us how many of them had beards' Harald teased, making both the drummer and the rhythm guitarist snort in the background.

'None!' the bassist giggled. 'At least not on their faces'

'Dude-'

In a humorous tone they got back inside to wrap up their session.

---

'Poor soul, just look at you. Stuck with me again in the death of night'

Kristian rolled his eyes at the low growl that was whispered right into his ear in a typical dramatic manner. 'Who says I'm stuck with you?' He sighed.

'You are now because only pussies go home early-Ow!' Olve yelped as he got poked by Jan with an elbow in his ribs.

With no intention to arrive sooner than his mother expected, the rhythm guitarist chose to stay even after his two other bandmates left for the bus station. After all, he might just have some fun.

'Let's go'

He didn't even have time to reply as the bassist threw an arm over his shoulders and dragged him across the main street.

'Ugh, get off'

It's not like he could hide his intention to come along since he left his guitar at the studio with all the gear so he couldn't be bothered with carrying it around for the whole night. It was what Olve was doing too. There was no coming back now.

Hanging out with the bassist alone after their talk about the fire in Åsane had, strangely enough, turned into a habit. It wasn't like Kristian was seeking the band leader's company exclusively, but repulsion and reticence gradually wore off after he found out that Olve was also chasing thrill for his inconsolable boredom.

The night was quiet and undisturbed until they reached the local that they were planning to enter. Long greasy hair, battle vests, bomber leather jackets and high combat boots were parading the narrow alley, waiting in line in front of Hulen's gates.

'It's not free access' Was the rhythm guitarist's conclusion as he watched people pay to get in. 'What a surprise-'

'Wait, wait. Let's get in line. There's only one guy at the entrance and everybody is flocking. We've got a chance to sneak in'

He didn't trust the other, yet he agreed and went to wait for almost 15 minutes in a crowd unsure if they were wasting their time trying when a hand grasped his bicep and pulled him forward before he could even blink.

'Hey-'

'Go, go'

Olve instructed him as they rushed beyond the security, hearing someone calling over the obnoxious sound of drunken metalheads and boisterous music.

'We're in'

They walked fast down the stone-placated corridor and quickly got lost through their heavy metal coded kin.

Bright neon lights were flickering in the cave's darkness, illuminating a mass of lanky shadows, occasionally focusing on their wasted faces and manic eyes. The ungodly miasma of acrid sweat and yeasty alcohol mingled with the heat of a jam-packed small place and the superb licks of Judas Priest were contouring the atmosphere into a feral one.

Anxiety was rapidly rising, making him hyper-aware of the lack of personal space in which he was forced. A detail that couldn't easily be ignored in a sober and sharp mind. And as if he wasn't uncomfortable enough, he caught a glimpse of the bassist disappearing between misfits to get himself a drink most probably.

'Payday again? You're such a rat for never mentioning it to anyone' the rhythm guitarist talked loudly into the band leader's ear in hope to be heard over the blast.

'I'll buy you a drink!' Olve grinned as if he was doing the other a favor.

'Yeah, sure' Kristian rolled his eyes, unimpressed.

'No, for real' the bassist gestured with his head to come along at the bar.

It was a premiere, something he absolutely believed he wouldn't witness in this lifetime. It had to be a catch.

'So, that’s the occasion that you want to seem more of a decent person and less of a deadbeat?' Kristian asked before taking a sip of his cold beverage.

Olve chuckled. 'You know, you can be nicer when someone buys you something' he remarked rather than joked. 'But insulting makes you happy, I get that-'

'No, seriously. Why?'

'My aunt is gone on vacation and my dad sent me money by post. Man, it's much more than I expected. She's stashing like half of it, can you imagine?'

'Ah, so you wanna pay your debts now?'

'Fuck no' the bassist snorted at his own offensive bluntness. 'But don't tell the guys this. Who knows, maybe I'll even buy some new strings this time instead of boiling and reusing those I have since forever'

Kristian couldn't help but make a face of disgust for a second.

'Or maybe I’ll extend my Kiss collection with some underrated vinyls. Yeah, maybe that'

It wasn't long until Kristian's eyes caught sight of the guy from the entrance scanning the room for them. 'Shit' He cursed, snatching his head at his bandmate. Simultaneously, they got up from the bar table and ran into the crowd.

Getting the guy lost turned out to be impossible as he shouted after them, capturing the attention of other metalheads. Pushing elbows and shoving bodies aside in a panic explosion, they made their way to the exit, nervously looking back just to see the man still coming after them.

'Run, fucking run!' Olve shouted, sprinting to the open gate, almost knocking down the random people that were walking in.

Out on the muddy streets, they turned around the first corner they spotted.

'We've lost him' the rhythm guitarist announced, peeking from behind the brick wall.

'Don't look back. If he sees our faces, be sure we won't step foot inside Hulen ever again' the bassist warned him, out of breath.

'That was close'

'At least I finished my beer'

'Fuck your beer'

They giggled at their narrow escape as they ventured further into the night, away from the pub.

'What an asshole, man! It's not like we were the only ones who got in for free'

'Be grateful I saw him before it was too late'

You ran like a motherfucker past me, I actually bumped into a few girls'

'Congrats, your first interaction with women'

'Tsk, too short, but intense nevertheless'

'Don't get used to it'

Climbing up a fence, they jumped into a lonesome playground.

Kristian felt his wallet falling out of his jacket before he had time to react. Olve casually picked it up and opened it wide.

'Let's see what you got here-'

'Give it back!'

'Nothing interesting, oooh, wait. Nice picture. You look like a Christmas elf with your hair behind your ears' Olve laughed like an idiot, holding his bandmate's ID. 'Kristian Vikernes' he read out loud in a thick Bergen accent.

'Just fucking come here and give it back' the rhythm guitarist groaned from the other side of the fence, closing his eyes in exasperation.

He didn't expect Olve to obey without any more fuckeries, but he hopped the barrier and returned the wallet.

'Your birthday is coming soon'

'So? Have you prepared my gift already?'

It was Kristian's time to mock him. The band leader couldn't help but laugh out loud while they both occupied a set of rusty swings.

'Yeah, I bought the first round. Consider it a gift' the bassist lit up a cigarette between his lips to distract himself from the harsh cold.

'How cheap' the rhythm guitarist expressed defiantly.

'What a pretentious little cunt are you'

'Watch your fucking mouth-'

'Or else?'

A shit-eating grin grew on the band leader’s face, inconsolably addicted to teasing the most stuck-up guy he ever met.

'Hey, come over to my place after school tomorrow. I've got something cool to show you'

'If it's something Kiss related, I don't give a single fuck-'

'Nah, it's out in the woods and it's been there for a while'

Kristian raised a curious thick eyebrow while taking a drag, cancerous smoke and icy air entering his lungs at the same time. Unsure if it was worth it or not, he refrained from giving an answer.

The night was growing more arctic by minute, biting the skin on his rosy cheeks and bony hands. The numbness was enchanting, a longed-for emotional anesthetic, a much needed pause in the ephemeral.

---

Coming home after attending a long day of classes, Kristian was always welcomed by funeral silence and inescapable loneliness.

Eating cold lunches just because he wouldn't bother to warm them up properly and staying glued to the radiator like a pretentious feline to watch the same desolate view from the window for minutes on end were subconsciously part of his inescapable routine.

Although on his own, left in his element of endless tranquility and contemplation, he still felt the unease like an unseen entity preying on him.

The house was haunted. The poltergeist was rolling in the back of his mind, the echoes of his unfulfilled childhood giving him cold shivers. And if he tried hard enough, he could hear two ghosts screaming about infidelity, negotiating custodies and spitting cruel threats. He could hear the voice of his mother calling his older brother the greatest for taking the initiative in everything. He could see the callous glare of his father softening, being proud of his oldest son's achievements.

The gap kept growing and growing, extending in his chest as he longed for something so untouchable and unobtainable, the feeling of minimum importance. Recognition had always been a dream too far-fetched to think about, yet he was yearning to make it real even for a second.

How cruel love could be when it wasn't shared equally and no matter the effort, there was no redistribution.

Sometimes she would brag about him, sometimes she would praise him, feeding him the false impression that he has a chance to climb on the abrupt hierarchy in her heart. Sometimes she would tell that she loves him, but she will always love his brother more. But now his sibling was away, studying to become another successful story within the family, choosing to live with their oppressive father for a short while. Now he had all the chances to turn into his mother's favorite, to be spoiled in attention and affection, yet the reality wasn't reflecting that. The sudden bursts out of character in which she would care for him never lasted long enough to fill the hole inside.

Part of him grew used to his misfortune, part of him will never accept just how easily she gave up on him.

Back in his room, Kristian didn't know what to do as homework was out of the question. The emptiness was pressing on him hard enough to make him unable to sit in silence with himself. The cage was invisible but palpable. So he took his bandmate's stupid invitation, put his sneakers back on and left without a trace.

Going to Os for the first time meant nothing but more time to kill away from the black pit he called home. Perhaps, it was for the best. Listening to music on his Walkman, he fell asleep for a little while, almost missing to change the ride in Rådal. The sky's monochrome palette was adding depth to the dark-green melancholy.

When he arrived, he stopped at the first payphone to let his pal know he made up his mind and finally came to hang out.

Taken by surprise, Olve quickly gave him the address and some minimal instructions to get to the right house.

Geographical orientation wouldn't have been an issue if the bassist's directions weren't so sloppy but eventually he found the place, or at least he thought he did when he ended up in an unkempt yard.

Rotten leaves that had never been cleaned were covering the ground everywhere he looked. The house didn't attract any negative attention from the outside, it had a typical white-wooden Scandinavian design. Pushing onto the doorknob, he found it unlocked, so he stepped in only to be greeted by the unmistakable sound of Motörhead blasting through the walls.

A few pairs of muddy boots and dirty sneakers were discarded in a corner, a bunch of clean milk bottles shoved under a sideboard and a big trash bag forgotten by the door. Nothing too repulsive, but the stench of burnt tobacco made him feel like stepping into a gas chamber.

He walked towards the music to encounter the band leader in the living room, working on something at the coffee table.

'Hei'

He announced flatly, making the other turn around with a spark in his eyes and a notorious smile on his lips.

'Oh, look who's here' The band leader raised an eyebrow. 'Thought you had better things to do-'

Kristian rolled his eyes and asked straight ahead. 'What are you doing, loser?'

'Come to Abbath the Alchemist and you'll see' Olve lured in a low growl. He took a small piece of cloth and soaked it in the water-like content of one of the bottles on the table.

The rhythm guitarist immediately recognized the slightly sweet odor of benzine as he got closer to inspect.

He chuckled with reticence. 'Is this what I think it is?'

'What do you think it is?' The bassist questioned sarcastically.

'What the fuck do you wanna do with this?' Kristian crossed his arms.

'You'll see' Olve grinned. 'Go to the kitchen and bring me a towel. This shit is leaking'

'I'm not your fucking maid-'

'It's the first door on right'

Sighing loudly in frustration, he ultimately complied, finding the kitchen in a worse shape than what he's seen so far. Empty pizza boxes, food wrappers, soda and beer cans were shamelessly displayed on the counter. A mountain of dirty dishes were surfacing from the once-clogged but now dry and sticky sink.

The lack of female household maintenance was painfully obvious, making Kristian feel disgust for the band leader's pitiful life conditions.

'You live like a fucking pig, man' He concluded, returning and throwing to his friend the towel that he brazenly asked for.

'Takk' Olve caught it and wiped his hands clean of car fuel. 'What do you mean? I just finished autumn cleaning yesterday. This place is squeaky clean'

'Yeah, you bet it is' Kristian commented.

'Alright, done' Olve announced proudly.

---

Daylight was dissipating alarmingly fast as they wandered through the woods with a cocktail Molotov swinging in one hand.

The two emerged into a meadow to come across an old car parked right in the center. Deflated tires, a broken windshield and rust corroding the metal surface, compromising its once intact functionality.

'This has been sitting here for months. Nobody ever came to take it so it turned into a wreck' Olve explained as he walked around the automobile and pulled the driver door open.

'I'm amazed it's still in one piece' Kristian commented. 'How did you find it?'

'Randomly' the bassist shrugged. 'I come here sometimes and sit inside just because. I took the battery out and the brake pads and I emptied the oil tank. I sold all of them for extra cash' the band leader replied from the driver's seat, playing with a small cross that was hanging from the rearview mirror.

'So you had some fun' the rhythm guitarist remarked.

'Nah, it would've been cooler if I could’ve started it, but it's a stupid Christian car so of course it didn't work for me' Olve joked, abruptly pulling the small cross down, throwing it in the backseat. 'Maybe it would've worked with you' He smirked, intentionally poking fun at his friend's name.

'Fuck off' Kristian reacted accordingly. 'Do you wanna fucking burn it or not? I don't have all day'

'Alright, alright. Calm your tits' the bassist lazily got out, only to have his bottle snatched out of his hand. 'Hey-'

'I wanna do it' the other metalhead replied, pulling his Zippo lighter out of his pocket.

'Awh, did you get mad already?' The band leader chuckled.

'Why would I?' Kristian forced nonchalance in his tone while allowing the small flame to kiss the fuel-soaked cloth. 'You're just annoying'

It was his last statement before he threw the bottle into the vehicle, the glass breaking at the impact, spreading benzine all over the car's upholstery.

The fire extended in a matter of seconds, turning everything inside into a burning hell. The amber glow that was radiating lit up their faces and surroundings, casting long, dense shadows behind their backs. A tar-black smoke emerged, evacuating through the broken windows, spiraling high into the atmosphere. The smell of flaming rubber spread around, sticking to their clothes and hair, assaulting their senses.

'Holy shit' Olve blurted out. From his peripheral vision, he caught sight of his bandmate looking entranced by the blaze, almost lost in reverie.

He caught Kristian's attention when the fumes started to enter his lungs, forcing him to cough loudly. The rhythm guitarist began choking too, already starting to walk backwards away from the fire source.

'Shit' the bassist spat on the ground. 'It's getting big. Somebody's gonna see the smoke. We should get the fuck out of here'

'I don't wanna leave yet' Kristian thought out loud.

'What?' Olve asked in amusement and disbelief. 'This place will catch fire-'

'I wanna watch it all go down'

Deep blue eyes met dark brown for a moment, his stubbornness made the band leader chuckle. It was a mutual understanding.

Climbed onto an old oak, they continued gazing through dead leaves and dried branches at the flames that were growing taller and brighter into the night sky.

'This is fucking wild' the band leader noted as his friend proudly giggled at the product of their reckless behavior.

'You think it will make it in the news?' Kristian asked, curiosity lacing his voice.

'I fucking hope so' Olve replied excitingly.

Almost one hour later, the firefighters arrived. The two remained hidden, talking quietly about the unknown outcome, admiring the dangerous scene from a safe distance.

Still thrilled from the arson that he freshly committed, Kristian couldn't bring himself to go home yet, so he returned with the bassist at his old place.

With the music roaring at full volume, they spent the night eating frozen pizza, chain smoking on the couch and watching some of Olve's finest slasher flicks.

He couldn't quite believe how beautifully unbothered living on your own could be and his jealousy rose just as much as his enthusiasm at the thought of doing whatever he wanted and never paying the price for his actions.

The clock was showing 3 am but not for him as he was freely laughing at the bassist's outrageous movie commentaries, as if he never irritated him in the first place. It was an odd sentiment, but for a moment he felt like he just clicked with another messed up soul just like him.

'Hey, you gotta see my guitar. If I knew how to play it, you wouldn't be here right now' the band leader went to his bedroom to grab a cheap Chinese version of Fender. 'Look at this, I spilled Sprite on it once but it still sounds wonderful'

'A bass player owning a guitar should be fucking illegal' the rhythm guitarist blurted out.

'Jeez, fuck you and Demonaz for saying the same shit' the bassist replied offended but still laughing.

'It's true!' Kristian added, also giggling. 'There's nothing more embarrassing than playing zeros on the E chord for 3 minutes straight-'

'I'll find where you live, man. I promise' Olve threatened humorously.

At the break of dawn, then the sun slowly started to pierce the dimness and surrender its territory, they went out.

There was nothing that compared to the early-morning crispy breeze, the immaculate silence of the tightly-sleeping neighborhood houses and the azure gradient sky.

'Your mom is gonna fucking kill you when you get home' Olve chuckled, watching the horizon change colors.

'I'll catch the first bus ride' Kristian groaned, dreading to be reminded of the inevitable.

'You don't learn from your mistakes, do you?' The bassist raised an eccentric eyebrow, locking eyes with his dismissive bandmate.

'What mistakes? The rhythm guitarist asked sarcastically, taking a last drag from the filter before throwing it down.

Olve snorted in amusement and nodded briefly.

'There's only one way to live, man' 

Chapter Text

'Alright, is it on?'

'Yeah, go ahead and sing'

Olve put the audio recorder close to his mouth before starting to scream out the lyrics of Persecuted By Death.

It was about time that they finally started working on their first demo tape.

As predicted, the band leader insisted on recording all of the vocals in the woods to capture the haunting echo of wilderness in their tracks. There was only one way of getting serious with their band and that was by releasing something into the local metal scene, something designed to be the most extreme sound in Bergen, something that they wish to make their name heard by the elites.

Contributing with money for their new common goal would've never been an issue for Kristian if his mother wasn't so awfully upset after his night escapade in Os that there was absolutely no room for discussion, let alone more pocket cash negotiation.

Since his father incident, he promised himself to completely stop giving a flying fuck about being the disappointing offspring that he's always been and start building his entitled independence. It sounded great in retrospect, it was a firm and ultimate decision until he got home to see a police car parked right in front of his house. The convention that he had with his expectantly worried and equally furious mother in front of the officers who were called when she thought that something notorious must have happened to him was by far the most embarrassing moment in his life.

Hyped for the immediate glorification of his second arson attempt, he and Olve told their friends the very next day about what they did, bragging about how close the police and the firefighters were to them, giggling at how nobody spotted them in the tree, making them feel like they could get away with anything if they wanted to.

Jan was more impressed than Harald, the lead guitarist already cracking comments of how they're practically begging for a penal case to be open. But the two juvenile offenders insisted that they carefully covered their tracks, peer pressuring their bandmates to join the next hit.

On the downfall, all of Kristian’s enthusiasm had been erased with the sanctions that he desperately tried to dodge. Being grounded was nothing but a silly joke at his age as she could do virtually nothing to keep him inside, but being cut from his daily financial benefits was a problem that emerged in the most unfavorable time possible. He wanted that demo to be launched and he could blame Olve for ranting about how this was only the beginning of something great that would bring the band the recognition that it deserved. And when funds were incomplete but dreams of fame were too intense to be prematurely broken, he did the unforgivable and took some of the money without her knowledge.

It wasn't enough for her to notice them missing, although the gesture stained his conscience. But when all of his bandmates longed for the same artistic objective, someone had to do something to kick-start the process. In his case, the social stress made him break another barrier that kept him from being non scrupulous.

'If the acoustic doesn't sound right, I swear we're climbing up Ulriken to get this done-'

'It's good enough, let's get back to it. We'll listen to the recordings tomorrow at the studio'

'I hope I got the crows croaking in the background'

Kristian stood on the trunk of a fallen tree, watching his bandmates argue semantics about how and where the vocals should be done, trying to distract himself from the chronic uneasiness coming from the fact that he stole from his own house.

---

Alone in his bedroom, sitting at the edge of the bed he was contemplating over the cassette that wrote Old Funeral on it.

Was it really worth it?

The letters were scribbled in black marker by Olve, together with an inverted cross that should at least give a hint about their music style.

He couldn't be modest and deny that his guitar didn't sound great, maybe even greater than Harald's and having it unheard by the world would be a shame.

He won't tell her about his first release, not only because she might ask where he had money from, but because he knew she was never interested in what he chose to invest in. If it wasn't something that would directly or indirectly bring her prestige for raising a perfect child, then it was useless, a burden to some extent even. Driving him around to concerts always felt like the biggest favor that he could never pay back, but she did it for him, to guilt-trap him after having fun in an unauthorized way.

How well he knew her, the one he was conditioned to.

Breaking his internal analogy, he put the cassette in the deck player, pressed play and let the music erupt.

—

'Guess who just got ourselves a gig on Friday in Apollon?'

'What? Wait, how-'

Deep blue eyes switched to his friends again as the bassist barely arrived at the studio, throwing his backpack on the floor, done with carrying it around all day.

Jan was the first to ask for details while Harald insisted that Olve was shitting them, considering all the antecedents.

'No, it’s for real! That's why I'm late, I just came back from Apollon' the band leader explained excitedly. 'Aksel's working on shift today so, I showed him the demo and he fucking loved it. He talked with the owner and he agreed to let us have a debut gig on Friday. I can barely believe it myself, dude'

'Damn, that's in two days' the drummer replied in the same spirit.

'We gotta make a track list, oh, and we need a line up!' The bassist grabbed a random notebook and a pen from the desk nearby. 'We've got the scene for ourselves for two hours'

'This is gonna be fucking sweet' the lead guitarist chuckled, continuing to tune up his instrument.

'Yeah, totally' Kristian smiled awkwardly, trying to figure out how to convince his mother to let him go for the whole night while she didn't quite forgive him for the last time.

---

'Count Grishnackh? Are you sure it's not Cunt Grishnackh?'

Olve's indiscreet giggles and idiotic play of words didn't pass unnoticed by the rhythm guitarist as he frowned and kicked the other with his knee on his side.

Immune to common sense, the bassist just laughed while Kristian got down to sit next to him at the edge of the abandoned school's roof.

'Why not Grishnackh Doom Occulta? Don't you want to be part of the occult brotherhood with me and Demonaz?' The band leader raised a curious eyebrow. 'Nobody will know you for being The Count'

'Count Grishnackh is an arrogant name. It puts me above all the other people' Kristian replied flat and detached.

'Right, right. I forgot about your superiority complex. How dare I, huh?' Olve teased smoothly.

The other metalhead couldn't help but crack a smile when all he wanted was to remain sober and grim. He always blamed the bassist for somehow lifting up his highly depressive and unbearable narcissist demeanor.

'I didn't have to be out of time to find a stage name for myself until Friday, you know? It all came naturally. One day I looked in the mirror and then I knew it, the word that's been sitting on the tip of my tongue for years.. Abbath!' The band leader widened his eyes theatrically, extended his hand and curled his fingers. 'It’s the name of the demon that took over. The one and only, born to raise hell'

'Tsk, look who's pointing out my so-called superiority complex' Kristian rolled his eyes, slightly amused but convinced to never show.

'Ah, don’t be jealous, man’

'Why the hell would I be jealous??'

'Better name, real confidence, you know-'

'Piss off or I'll push you over the edge'

'Ha! I'd like to see you try'

..real confidence? How clever..

Was it a mere coincidence or could he be read like an open book? That very thought didn't sit right with him.

He could swear he made sure to become a catacomb of secrets that no one would ever decipher, but then again, he remembered just how easily the bassist persuaded him to talk about what happened at home that led to the fire in Åsane. He didn't like to give Olve the credit for slowly figuring him out because he couldn't stand being stripped out of his cryptic code by someone who was such a hopeless imbecile in his mind.

This was not something that he paid for when he decided to get close to people, except that the decision was not a decision at all. It came naturally, subconsciously, letting some of his barrier down felt right at that moment.

'Anyway, what got your panties in a twist now?'

He locked eyes with the bassist for a split second, like a wolf ready to tear a brainless sheep apart for the audacity of asking such a question, but then he realized there was no menacing behind those dark orbs. The band leader's eyes looked inattentive for most of the time, occasionally inquisitive, not threatening if secrets were to be spilled.

Indignant, Kristian groaned and spoke in a monotonous manner. 'I don't know what you're talking about'

'Well, you never told me what happened when you got home after staying over at my place' Olve cleared his throat as an allusion.

'Why should I?' the rhythm guitarist asked in innate hostility.

'I don't know? I was just wondering' the bassist shrugged, awkwardly. 'Last time you said fuck it, you ended with a swollen cheek.. and more angry, of course'

'Don't you have anything better to do than ask about life at home?' Kristian frowned, remaining defensive and looking down over the forest.

'Not really' Olve replied sincerely. 'I'm fucking bored, man. I live on my own already, I barely go to school and I don't have anything to do until one of you fuckers pick up the phone. It's not my fault I remember and I get curious about useless stuff like that' the bassist confessed nonchalantly.

He could tell him about the money that he stole, but that would make him seem too desperate to have the demo done, which he was in fact but his bandmates didn't have to know that about him.

'I'm not sure if I'll make it to the gig on Friday'

'What?? You have to-'

'I know ' the pressure in his tone grew at the insistence of the other. He realized there was no turning back. 'I will'

---

'You're not going anywhere'

Even anticipating the argument, the firm words of denial struck him as soon as they left his mother's mouth.

Staying in the hallway with his shoes on and the guitar case strapped to his back and ready to just fuck off into the night, he began fighting a lost war.

'But I have to, it's the first gig I-'

'I don't care. A few days ago you disappeared for a whole night only god knows where and now you have the nerve to ask for permission to do the same thing?' She questioned in disbelief. 'You're out of your mind, Kristian'

'No, don't do this' he groaned, hopelessly frustrated. 'This time it's different, I can't miss playing live in front of people-'

'This conversation is over’

'It's not right, I can't do anything! You keep treating me like a fucking child and I can't stand it!'

'If you can't stand living under my roof, you can always pack your bags and pay your father a long visit because I'm not changing my mind. I am done lowering myself for you. You are never grateful for anything I do, you just ask for more and more-'

When she finally ran out of her own limited patience because of the lack of control her own ingrate son forced her into, she went on a spiral of complaints, listing out everything that bothered her lately, exploding in brutal honesty and acrimony.

'-I can't even pick up the phone when I see the principal's number calling me, I'm so ashamed towards that woman when she asks me what on earth is wrong with you! You're always searching for trouble, always skipping, always doing something that you're not supposed to. You're nothing like your brother and I fail to understand why! I raised you both the same but something must've been wrong from the start!'

The guts to pretend that it was the absolute truth blocked him.

'I had to call the police on you because you just left without saying anything! Do you have any idea how worried you made me?? You started smoking and drinking and now you're vanishing until morning. Is that normal for you??'

He remained silent, making her boil even more inside for talking with the blank walls again. She knew he didn't feel ashamed, or remorseful because his eyes were cutting deep confrontationally.

'Why do you do this to me?' She lowered her tone, tired out trying to resonate with her uncooperative child.

'You failed me' Kristian chuckled, lacking any humor in his voice. 'I told you that's not what I want to do with my life, but you never listened. You always compare me with my brother and you fail to understand that I don't want to be like him, I want to be my own person!' He paused briefly, gathering more strength as he burst again. 'Maybe I'm fucked up! Maybe I've been fucking born like that, but I fucking doubt it. You can't see your own blame in this, you always play the victim card saying that you've done the best you could, but you didn't. I know you didn't. You can't lie to me'

Offended beyond belief, she opened her mouth to give him a piece of mind, but then she closed it, rethinking. Faded-red lips were shut tight in a straight line while pale blue eyes turned cold and superior.

'Go to your room now. I'm done with you'

He didn't have to be told what to do because he already turned on his heels, abandoning their heated quarrel, having his most pessimistic thoughts entirely confirmed.

She was done with him for a long unforgivable while, but the knowledge didn't feel less painful to swallow.

Anger was late to burn him this time as disappointment hit harder, but he didn't want to give in yet. All he was left with was his persistent dream of composing music, the last tool that kept him alive and breathing when nothing else could.

Sitting in darkness with an aching heart but a general shutdown of all emotion was something he grew used to. Thought inertia came instinctively, slowing down his capacity to process pain any further.

Time could pass at discretion while not living in the moment, so he forced himself to get back to the present and think about his options. He knew she would probably fall asleep on the couch so she could hear him if he ever dared to walk past her and out the door, but that wasn't the only way out.

The window opened wide before a pair of legs appeared on the other side of the wooden frame. The distance wasn't dangerous, only a few meters but the issue was that he had to jump with his guitar case also. So, he took his gear in one hand so as not to break it on his back and risked it, hoping that he won't lose his balance and ruin his instrument right before his first show.

Clumsily landing on his feet, he jolted down the street in a hurry to make it to Apollon in time.

---

'What took you so long?'

Jan asked as soon as he saw his bandmate approaching the makeshift stage. Kristian opened his mouth, unaware of what lie to use when another voice called for him.

'You're here? Good. Let's get the sound settings done' Olve appeared from a corner and gestured with his head for the rhythm guitarist to follow. Kristian obeyed just to escape the awkwardness of his delay.

Putting every worry in the back of his mind wasn't a simple task, but he had to in order to focus on one of the most desired junctures of his life. All set up, he was anxiously waiting in the darkest angle of the scene for Olve to step in the limelight and take the microphone to break the ice and start playing.

'Hilsen fra graven, Bergen!' Abbath growled low, an erratic smile rose on his lips.

The public was nothing impressive, just the regular customers and random rockers that would show up every time an event would take place, but the energy was good. They shouted and whistled back at the band, persuading them to go on.

'Have you ever heard about The Fart That Should Not Be?' He asked in English in a dead-serious voice, never breaking from his character, not even when most people broke into laughter. 'Oh, you think it's funny? Let's see how funny you find this!'

Hitting the strings hard, the sound broke out. Reverb heavy guitar riffs began screaming from the speakers, sound waves smashing together into pure chaos all around the crowd's ears. They started strong with Hell, followed by Disgusting Kind Of Love and Day Of Judgement.

Sitting in the eye of the storm, playing together the songs that they've been most proud of while orbs were glued to the stage, metalheads headbanging on their music felt almost too good to be true.

Kristian felt alive. Even reserved to have too many glances on him, he thrived. Light-brown hair was falling into his face like a graceful curtain while his left hand was switching positions on the fretboard automatically in perfect synchronization with Demonaz's riffs, following Padden's beats. The experience could only be described as surreal, hyperbolic.

Abbath never missed a whisper, a beat, a word and the rough and raspy quality of his voice was grotesquely perfect, making the band seem incredibly underrated for their talent and for their dedication to the metal scene. They transitioned from one track to another by taking a few minutes of respite in which the bassist eagerly engaged in small talks with the crowd.

'What? What did you say?' The front man asked, staying at the edge of the pedestal trying to figure out words in the clamor. 'No, not you. The girl next to you' He giggled, making the first crow laugh and the said girl to get embarrassed. 'My name? It's Abbath Doom Occulta' he whispered in the microphone before suddenly shouting 'Abbath!'

Savoring the public's attention, the bassist could say that he was living his sweetest fantasy.

'Give up!' Demonaz yelled out, hoping that his friend would hear him and spare the female audience of his inelegant attempts to flirt, but of course the band leader ignored him.

Padden gave the two guitarists a well-knowing look before he started beating with his drumsticks at another tempo. The night progressed with more jams and cheerful vibes as they ended in style with Demonaz's solo.

'Takk! We were Old Funeral!' Olve announced when the sound died down, holding up the demo that they just released.

With numb fingers, sweat dripping down his nape and an unbearable thirst was how Count Grishnackh found himself at the after party. He never expected to be approached by people especially after his first performance so he didn't know what to say other than a typical 'Thank you' and smile coyly. Praise was the social fuel of his entire existence and he couldn't deny that strangely, it constantly felt more valuable when it came from strangers than from friends.

Maybe he shouldn't have been so overwhelmed by the few that wanted to talk with them after the show, but the emotional rollercoaster in which his life was riding never gave him a break.

'Long time no see, guys! Holy shit, that was fucking awesome!'

'Jørn, Truls! I didn't fucking see you in the crowd!'

Kristian turned to see the band leader's eyes lit up as he saw what he only speculated to be two peers he hadn't seen in a while.

The smoke was intoxicating, yet no one bothered to put out their cigarettes as they were all squished at the bar table, ordering drinks and chatting about the performance.

The sickness of discharging a bottle of Heineken into his empty stomach was well deserved. He felt like throwing up, but he thought he could bear through it so he wouldn't make a fool of himself for not building tolerance.

Unconscious exclusion was something that he didn't want to give too much into, but he couldn't deny the awkwardness of hearing his bandmates catch up with their friends while he didn't know any metalhead in the city besides his clique. Tipsy, yet understandably reluctant, he didn't dare to enter their conversation.

Jan was by far more intoxicated than Harald even if they drank quite the same amount, but maybe the lead guitarist's age had something to do with it considering that he was older than them by 2 years and the only one that enrolled himself in post high-school education. What a waste , he thought bitterly and judgmental.

Olve was drunk as a skunk, there was no nicer way to put it. The inside joke was that no one was able to win against the bassist in a drinking challenge and truth be told, no one wanted to. What Kristian failed to understand was how the guy could reach such a level of inebriation and still be the happy-go-lucky hyperactive mess that he was.

He knew the bassist would hit the bottle when he was joyful or had nothing to do, but did he also when sadness occurred? To picture Olve as anything but less effervescent was simply impossible. When he realized that his thoughts went on an unless trail, he caught the part in which the two miscellaneous metalheads were talking about their own band called Amputation.

'So, we were looking for a lead guitarist. Truls just picked up guitar three months ago and he doesn't know how to play shit yet' Jørn explained, giving his friend a teasing bump in the elbow. 'You know I play drums, but I started on bass now because fuck it, someone has to' he laughed.

'Bass is everything, man!' Olve blurted out. 'Best metal musicians are actually bass players-'

'You only talk about Lemmy Kilmister-'

'Of course I talk about Lemmy Kilmister'

Whenever the subject of their own instruments of choice was brought up, the classic dispute between Olve and Harald started. They never fought seriously because they were best friends after all, but they teased the fuck out of one another whenever they could. It was part of their chemistry. But teasing Harald never went too far because he would eventually let it go and move along, something that Kristian could never do because of his obsession to have the last word.

'Speaking about tonight, is it just me or my guitar was on low volume? Did you mess up my amp settings at the last minute?' The lead guitarist questioned, more serious than joking.

'I don't know what you're talking about' the bassist mumbled quickly before taking a gulp of his beer, reaching the bottom of the bottle too fast.

Jan, Jørn and Truls burst into copious laughter as a new can of worms was opened.

'You must be quite drunk, dude. If you want, I'll make sure you get home safely-'

'You son of a bitch'

As the binge continued, Kristian's nausea worsened rendering it unbearable to be ignored, so he got up from his stool and went straight to the bathroom without any explanation.

How he loathed his innate incapacity to seem anything but the weak link within the pack and how he loathed spewing up all the liquor that he consumed in the last couple of hours in a dirty, semi-public restroom. 

He could never be like them, no matter how hard he tried, he always failed miserably. The fun never lasted more than two hours while he was playing live and the alcohol never erased the most heartbreaking phrase that his mother told him.

Something must've been wrong from the start.

He didn't want to believe that his archetype under influence would be the most miserable of them all, but there he was clutching the toilet seat, spitting out what was left to spit before pulling back, hitting the fake wall of the bathroom stall with his back.

When he returned, he tried to seem like nothing was wrong, Jan being the only one to notice his sudden disappearance and ask if he was fine, but other than that, nobody perceived anything inadequate. He thought he felt eyes on him coming from his right where the bassist stood, but Olve was too deeply engaged in his habitual ego-boosting monologue to shift one glance at the world around him.

Even so, it was better to be an ornament at the table than a focal point at home.

Chapter Text

Decisions made in the neck of a drunken night were soon to be regretted because after their first gig in Apollon, Harald agreed to be the newest lead guitarist in Amputation as if he wasn't struggling enough with making time to spend with his romantic interest and with the band separately.

Awareness didn't strike him until the very next day when his mates were still talking about the show and how unexpectedly awesome it was, slipping the small detail of having yet another unwanted responsibility.

Once the after party was over and the pub had to close, Kristian, Olve, Harald and Jan together with Jørn and Truls went to the closest non-stop they could find to buy food or anything that could fill their empty stomachs and then went to a local park.

The temperature must've been easily under zero degrees, but the rhythm guitarist couldn't even perceive the frost thanks to the beer that was still running through his system, keeping him warm and lightheaded.

Truth be told, he couldn't remember much. He knew he unintentionally became more talkative and approachable after returning from the bathroom and taking a shot of Tequila before Olve had the chance to put his paw on it. It was then when he turned into a humble conversationalist, something that he had been teased for before, but he couldn't recall a single word from what he rambled to those two new guys for the life of him.

Faded flashes of Jan throwing up in a garbage can and Olve laughing too loud that he alerted a bunch of stray dogs, cursing at the poor animals and running from them down poorly illuminated streets were surfacing from his dark unconsciousness as he tried to put everything together and find out how he eventually managed to get home in one piece.

The outward beauty of the azure sky, turning more vibrant than the ocean in the early hours of morning, stood with him though, deeply anchored in his memory.

It must've been around 4 am when he started knocking on the front door, waking up his mother from a dead sleep with his impertinent persistence, blatantly moaning to be let in.

As the door opened and the poor woman gasped, demanding explanations on the spot, he walked past her with eyes barely open so he wouldn't fall and told her ever so calmly that he's going to sleep now. After that, the rest was history.

Hours later, his slumber had been interrupted by another urge to puke. He thought he got a grasp on how a hangover should feel like with morning migraines, fever and nausea but his body proved him wrong once again, making him regret his sporadic actions and repeat in his mind like a broken record that he would never ever do it again. A lie that went a long way.

Once stable after taking two painkillers in one go, he realized that his mother didn't leave for work as usual because it was a damn Saturday morning. She was wide awake, waiting for him to unlock his bedroom door and come out so they could start a new round of arguments.

'Why do you do this to me?' She asked, more upset than angry as soon as he stepped into the living room.

He knew her tactic and he hated it because she was trying to make everything about her again, but his brain wasn't coherent enough to put up with that at the moment.

'I told you I wanted to go' Kristian mumbled his eternal excuse, never admitting wrong. The initiative should've been hers.

'I'm going to call your father-'

'No, please!'

He couldn't believe his own ears, but the plea left his mouth before he could stop.

'Fine, I won't do it again' he rambled frantically, panic making its presence known. 'Don't call him, you know I hate him. You're only going to make everything worse-'

But she didn't listen. Fed up with his bullshit, she went to the telephone to type her ex husband number.

'Don't do this!' He insisted, locking eyes with her, searching for an ounce of empathy.

'Give me a good reason why I shouldn't do this' she requested, entitled to the power she suddenly obtained.

At a loss of words, Kristian felt pressured to admit defeat and hurt his own ego by making compromises.

'I'll go to school like I used to'

She didn't say a word, glaring at him harshly, seizing his promise’s authenticity, making him feel like he was wasting her time with the receiver still in her hand.

He never saw her this mad since her divorce.

'I won't drink and I won't smoke anymore. I won't come home late again and I won't leave during the night' he bit his lip in both self disappointment and anxiety forecasting yet another violent meeting with his father. 'Just.. don't call him'

The shame pushed him to keep his eyes down onto the floor, leaving him waiting with his heart pounding in his chest for her next move.

He jolted when he heard the receiver being smashed back into the holder before she walked past him like a storm. Foolishly, he thought it was over when he heard her calling from another room.

'If you're not at school on Monday, attending all of your classes, I will call your father over to have a talk with you again and I will tell him exactly what you do in your free time' she threatened. 'This is your last chance to make up for your hardest mistake'

It didn't make sense.

She has never been that authoritarian, never that merciless since the split up. Was this how dragging a person to the edge of their sanity truly felt like?

The unfairness of it all was killing him more than his post-party sickness. There was no way out or around because bending rules for one more time would mean the end of him. Condemned to live under the apprehensive presumption that she could intentionally hurt him via a vicious man was the worst outcome of his unsuccessful rebellion. Maybe she joined him entirely as she convinced herself to take away the most precious possession of her youngest son, freedom.

He knew he couldn't do it, to stick back to his old routine like he hadn't tasted anything better, but he had to be safe, at least for a while until he inevitably starts to slip off again into his die-hard habits.

It was all a matter of time until the bomb would detonate and the price would be paid.

But until then, how would he explain the new changes to his fellows?

Suddenly, everything became an issue.

---

'So, what's next?'

Jan asked once they finished their repetitions at the studio.

Smoothly, Jørn and Truls became an additional part of the group since they started to share the same rehearsal space on Wednesday. This way it was much easier for Harald to part his time playing with both Old Funeral and Amputation and everyone enjoyed the extra chaos that was going on now. It was a win-win situation for everybody except Kristian.

'I don't know about you but I'm sick of going to pubs and it's too fucking cold to stay out, so' Jørn let the suggestion hanging for anyone who might have a bright idea.

'Let's go to my place, watch some movie, crack one open and chill' Olve immediately proposed.

'You can crack one open by yourself, man, but I'm coming for a movie' Truls replied.

'Just one movie, really?' The bassist gave off a skeptical look.

'Well, yeah. I'm not staying over' the metalhead shrugged. 'I don't live unemployed in paradise, dude. You lucky bastard'

The others chuckled at the blunt truth, but the band leader had his own comeback.

'It's cool, I get it. Don't disappoint your folks yet '

'Well, at least I've got my folks, man'

'Alright, come on!'

It was no secret the fact that everyone envied Olve's unlimited liberty. Not only that he could do anything he wanted, but he could bring home anyone without any repercussions and that was by far the biggest deal for Harald and Jørn who were the blessed ones to have girlfriends.

Inevitably, Kristian felt left out especially because the hour was late by his mother's standards and he promised to come back once he's done at the studio.

'I think I'll be skipping this one'

Suddenly, all eyes fell on him as soon as he mentioned his intention.

'I've got stuff to do at home'

'Oh, yeah? You know that jerking off compulsively is not good, right?' Olve simply poked fun, earning just enough chuckles and giggles in the background to boost himself up. Bushy eyebrows frowned in maximum annoyance for that stupid remark and the bassist knew right then that if looks could kill, he would be a dead man by now. 'Alright, fine. You do you' the band leader pulled back from teasing but still managed to keep the indecent connotation.

Whey they got out in the open nocturnal breeze, the mood was lively as ever for everyone but a certain grudgeful individual.

'Hey, look up, it's fucking snowing!' Jan blurted out, looking at the mix of raindrops and snow that were falling from the blackened sky.

'Oh, great' Harald replied sarcastically.

'The winter is coming, brothers' Olve commented, struggling to light up a cigarette in the sleet weather.

'Say no more' Jørn rolled his eyes.

'I can't wait for schools to close already' Jan confessed.

'Yeah, keep waiting' Harald mockingly encouraged.

'This shit is not working. Do you have that Zippo, Kris?' Olve asked with a cancer stick hanging between his lips.

'No' the rhythm guitarist couldn't mask the bitterness in his voice.

'How so?' The bassist frowned, confusedly. 'Wait, you didn't smoke with us during the break, did you?'

'I'm leaving. See you'

The band leader remained perplexed. He opened his mouth to call his friend who abruptly turned around and left when Jørn shouted out.

'Olve, we'll miss the fucking bus! Come on, dude!'

The bassist turned around to see his friends at a much further distance, some still walking, some still waiting for him in the snowy rain.

'Ugh, you guys give me a fucking lighter!' He yelled in annoyance as he turned and started jogging.

'Bye, Kris!'

'Bye!'

'See ya, man!'

Loud, obnoxious voices began to lose resonance as he walked further and further from them, furiously disregarding their adieus.

Cheeks were burning with shame while fists tightened until the skin turned white. He could already see the upshot of slowly pulling away and the saddest aspect of it all was that there was nothing he could do to prevent fading into the background.

He flushed his last cigarettes in the toilet after that hideous compromise because he knew she intended to keep a very close eye on him.

The way back home was strewn with intrusive thoughts of self-hatred for doing the one thing that he loathed the most, obeying orders. As he entered the house, he went straight to his room like an arrow, ignoring the mother that ignored him first, too deeply committed to that casual gossip she had over the telephone.

It was one of those nights in which he couldn't find rest even in his own bed. Skipping dinner even if he was starving was a form of punishment both for him and the woman who he despised at this moment.

Reading Silmarillion could only take his mind away for so long but repressed anger continued to burn behind his lecture as hours passed and passed without a true meaning. The clock turned 4:30 am as he found himself wide awake on his back, with the book closed on his chest and mechanically breathing while the world was sound asleep, unaware or angst.

He thought about his friends, the ones that he envied for having it better than him, then ones with an appetite for danger, the ones whose lives were easier.

Only if he knew that being the bottom of the joke was a title that would never change in the nearest future.

There was nothing that irked him worse than Olve and his unasked for roast. Alone together, the bassist always turned into something akin to a twin brother, a mirror image. Two misfits born from the same womb, thrown into an overly conservatory and recently religious nordic society, left in the open to figure out the meaning of life. The simplest way to make their existence known was to hit and run, like they did with that car found in the woods not a long time ago. He couldn't deny that he liked the dynamic, but that happened only once and it was probably history at this time. The issue began with them together in the collective company of their peers. It was then when the band leader would take the piss on him to get a reaction out of the others. And jokes were just jokes, harmless and puerile at most but Kristian's fragile self-esteem was unable to make the concrete distinction between silly antics and the crude truth.

Eyes closed in exhaustion after the curtains started to reflect light into his room but before he reached any type of conclusion.

A new day began in the same tedious and misanthropic manner.

He woke up without any motivation to get out of bed but obeyed to play the part of the deal. 

She left before him as she usually does, noticing the marks of insomnia under her son's eyes but refusing to acknowledge them.

Kristian could tell that her demeanor turned less and less threatening since their last fight. It could be that she thought she magically managed to change him even without the brute force of his father. What a great accomplishment it would've been only if it was true. Like the wolf in sheep's clothing, he was patiently waiting for her to soften up so he could naturally slide back into his old practice.

Maybe he was a loser for taking her act of controlling so literally, believing she had the guts to call that hideous man on him for one more time when she apologized so much for their last encounter. Kristian chuckled, the idea of allowing fear to get a toll on him while there could be nothing to fear actually rendered him the biggest idiot who walked this planet.

Would she dare to pull the trigger on him or not? The question was driving him mad. It was a special kind of torment worse than any medieval torture generated by her good old unpredictability.

And as if his pathetic and overly conspiratorial situation wasn't a fat joke yet, he rushed to finish drinking the coffee that she left in the pot and still went to school to please her.

---

As days went on, the slow alliteration from his peers became Kristian's worst penalty. Having his little clique slip away through his fingers was a painful experience to endure.

People didn't wait on him, they asked a few times why he stopped hanging out with them but after a few obvious lies that he replied with, they stopped asking completely.

He couldn't say he put an abrupt end to drinking and smoking or going out after dark or that he stopped receiving pocket cash and it rendered him impossible to come to Lysekloster anymore. They simply assumed he lost interest in them and that was it. Rehearsals were the only times he could put his growing depression on hold and pretend he's having fun because that was quite literally the only time he had fun.

His antipathy towards Jørn and Truls grew in their presence. He thought the two metalheads were taking his place by joining his crew almost everywhere and sharing ideas for more musical projects. He didn't care that his friends knew them before they knew him as he felt entitled to the original set up and his role in the group.

What pissed him the most was Jørn's audacity to suggest Olve had another arson attempt after the bassist talked big of what he did with that car. Him, being the only one to get mischievous with the band leader because no one else dared to, was another one of his untold rules.

His one chance to have his destructive tendencies understood by someone just like him was about to be lost once and for all in the face of a nobody who just crushed at his first gig and decided to stay.

Maybe it was true that the universe was working in strange ways because he happened to spot a familiar face exiting a music store while he was returning from a walk alone.

'What the fuck are you doing here?'

Words overly-saturated in hostility escaped his mouth before he could mask his acute indignation.

'Can't I fucking come to town without your permission now??' Olve questioned defensively before he cracked a smug smile.

Kristian sighed loudly in frustration before asking less rudely. 'Why are you here?'

'I went to buy bass strings' the bassist justified.

'Yeah, sure' the rhythm guitarist rolled his eyes.

'Well, yeah!' the band leader insisted, pulling a new set of D'Addario from his backpack.

'Tsk, did you even afford these?' Kristian looked in pity, intentionally to piss off the other.

'How fucking dare you?' Olve questioned in disbelief but clearly amused.

---

Snow was gently falling from the gray sky over the buildings. It was sticking to their hair like silver glitter while they were roaming around the town with nothing to do.

'So, what did I fucking do?'

It came out of nowhere marking that their brief chit-chat about unimportant matters was done.

'What?' Kristian blinked, taken aback by Olve's bluntness for a second.

'You don't go around with us anymore and I figured I might have something to do with this' the bassist explained with his hands shoved deep inside his pockets and a less than innocent smile curving on his lips.

The rhythm guitarist hated to discover that the other metalhead wasn't so oblivious after all, but he would rather lose a leg than admit that freely. So, he replied with nonchalant superiority. 'What gives you the thought that you're so important in my decisions?'

'Ah, so it was a decision after all' the band leader smirked, thinking out loud.

'Fuck you' Kristian was quick to bark.

'Hey, you admitted it!' Olve protested.

'Forget about it' the rhythm guitarist mumbled under his breath.

'Too late now. What's the matter?' The bassist pushed it like he usually did.

Hesitation was lingering in the silence as Kristian was trying to decide if he should give it a shot and take a heavy burden off his chest or if he should keep brushing off his friend until he loses interest in interrogating him.

'My mother got mad at me for.. some things I've done lately and last week she threatened me with calling my father if I don't change into what she wants'

'And you just did it?' A baffled eyebrow was raised even when the answer was more than obvious.

'What I was supposed to do??' Kristian asked in frustration. 'I came home piss drunk after our show and she went off like a fucking grenade! My head was spinning, I was sick and I had to say something-'

'Did you get scared at the thought of your old man coming to see you again?' Olve asked directly to see how grave his friend's reaction was.

'I'm not scared of him' the rhythm guitarist growled menacingly. 'I don't fucking know why I told her I would change.. but I did and now I'm fucking stuck'

'Tsk, sucks to be you' the bassist replied in a light and sincere voice but as soon as his words came out, he saw those blue orbs darkening with ill will. 'Well, what do you want me to say? If you want to stay with us over rehearsals, you know you're always welcomed. If not, that's it. I mean..' He mumbled, not quite sure what to actually say to make the situation better.

'Ugh, you don't fucking get it' Kristian groaned angrily, running a nervous hand though his long hair.

'Maybe I don't' Olve shrugged indifferently. 'But I had fun with you burning shit and drinking'

'You did?' The rhythm guitarist chuckled as skeptical as ever.

'Yeah, you're cool' the bassist freely admitted, sensing a slight change in his friend's tonality.

'Oh, am I? Then why don't you say this when everyone's around?' Kristian crossed his arms in reticence.

'Cause I fucking like cracking jokes about you being an oversensitive, spoiled prick too much?' Olve rhetorically asked, a small grin showing as he spoke.

'Asshole' the other couldn't help but mirror the grimace.

'Oh, you mean the most entertaining person you had the pleasure to meet?' The band leader insisted, grinning widely. ‘You don’t have to lie, Kris-’

'Ugh, I'd rather go home then waste one more minute here with you' Kristian rolled his eyes, determined not to give the bassist any more satisfaction.

'Bullshit' Olve called out the lie, making both of them giggle.

Most of the pressure dissolved, unconsciously allowing Kristian to feel more vulnerable.

He remained quiet and absent while Olve took out one of his godawful rolled cigarettes, lit it up and took a well deserved hit.

'You quit?' Chestnut brown eyes asked, shifting their attention to an apathetic face.

'Not because I wanted to' the rhythm guitarist mumbled under his breath.

'Here' Olve passed the cigarette to his friends who frowned in disgust and refused. 'You sure?'

Kristian felt like a hostage to his rigid restrictions, denying himself the drug of choice even if he wasn't an addict yet, living in fear for what might happen if he truly became one.

'No, give it here' he averted his eyes shamefully, reaching with his hand to take the cancer stick. He remembered the first and last time he took a drag out of the bassist's cowboy smokes, regretting the experience instantly because of the horrid stench they had. Even now everything felt the same. He choked ungracefully but didn't give up so easily.

The band leader snorted, amused by his bandmate's try-hard attitude. 'Better?'

'N-ever been b-etter' Kristian coughed, passing back the cigarette before spitting out the aftertaste.

'You'll get used to it' Olve teased.

'To these? Fuck no' the rhythm guitarist was quick to reply. 'I guess it's time to leave'

'So soon?' the bassist locked eyes with the other like a lost dog of some sort. 'It's not even that late, man' He blew the smoke quickly before putting it out, stepping on the remains.

'Ugh, why do you have to be so fucking clingy and needy all the time someone leaves?'

'I'm not really, but I don't have anything to do on my own, you know?'

The giggle helped Olve's words to remain light but despite this, it almost felt like touching a highly tensioned string.

'Sucks to be you'

'Is that responding in kind?'

'Touché'

The bassist chuckled to himself, stopping from walking when his mate stopped too. 'Alright then, see you on Wednesday. Tell me how they spanked your ass for getting home after dark, smelling like an ashtray' he mocked.

'Yeah, I'll tell them that I just bumped into a hobo who thought I'd give them a penny and a second glance' Kristian grinned widely, giving the band leader a taste of his own humor.

'I'll get to know your house number eventually-'

'Watch out'

The teasing ceased when they parted ways, the snow softly crunching under his feet. The high strangeness in his chest was crawling back at him with every step he took closer to his residence.

His heart was colder than it has ever been, his body was burnt but he was shivering. 

Chapter Text

The thin glass broke at the brusque impact with the wall, the flame gripping at its wooden surface everywhere the benzine spilled.

The teenagers barely had time to react when another bottle had been thrown over the same spot, fire rising ferociously and freely. Excitement blossomed in Kristian's heart when hearing the mischievous giggles and exclamations of his peers. The blaze surrounded the old cabin in the blink of an eye urging everybody to back off as soon as it caught the roof.

'Fucking hell' Jan whistled, eyes glued to the burning hut. 'Look at this, man'

'What a campfire' Jørn chuckled, watching with his hands in his pockets the show of amber lights.

'Imagine making this the cover of our first album' Truls smirked, giving the other a meaningful glance.

Kristian frowned, ready to throw a smart remark, taking the credit that he deserves for his own work when Olve came running from behind throwing a third bottle into the compromised cottage not because the fire would die down any time soon but because he had to prove a point by being a culprit instead of a witness like the rest of his friends.

The rhythm guitarist knew the intention behind it but for some odd reason he didn't mind sharing the title of true delinquency with the bassist. After all, it was both of them who initiated the habit and promoted it to their bandmates so that peer-pressure would be too strong to turn down their participating offer.

Nothing was boosting his ego like having a public who wouldn't get that far to committing an offense but would tag along to watch in awe the act conducted by him. He could tell that Olve felt the same because his overkill successfully stirred even more reactions.

'What the hell, dude?!' Jan asked less amused and more confused over the loud snicker and curses in the background. 'It's done, it's already fucking done!'

But of course, it was all the band leader wanted to hear because it was done only when he remained empty-handed.

'The smoke is getting nasty' Jan complied, coughing on the black fumes that were sprawling out into the sky and all around them.

'I'm getting the hell out of here' Harald announced, being the first to turn around and get out of the forest. 'Better run for the car'

'Already leaving? You're kidding, right?' Jørn questioned, carelessly throwing his beer can into the fire and turning around.

'Hey, wait!' Jan shouted, coming after the lead guitarist.

It was happening again. Kristian stood shackled to the spot, hypnotized by the dancing flames, unaware of the fact that most of his friends took off by now.

One step closer followed another one and the heat against his face became nearly unbearable. Immaculate white, vibrant yellow and barn red were reaching out to him, taking him to a second infancy in which he discovered the untold beauty of pyromania, an unexpected twist in his entropy.

'Hey, let's go'

He softly gasped, his heart skipping a beat when he felt a palm pressing on his shoulder. Deep blue met chestnut brown, the animated inferno reflecting in both of them. The rhythm guitarist couldn't find his words so he briefly nodded before breaking into a sprint with the bassist out of the dense woodland.

Out of bushes and back at the edge of the road, the highlights were blinding while the old engine was roaring, waiting impatiently for the last two to pull the car's door open and hoop in already.

'What took you so long?-' Harald was immediately cut off by Olve's hurried voice.

'Step on it! Just go, go!'

Without thinking the lead guitarist stepped on the gas and took off into the night.

Windows were rolled down to feel the chilling breeze tangling their long, unwashed locks, Pantera's newest album was blasting from the speaker while nicotine smoke was floating in waves around them, pumping up their joyful atmosphere. Running off, the adrenaline felt stronger than anticipated, the clamor only growing by minute.

Olve, Jørn, Truls and Jan were talking over each other, hyped as ever.

Harald still had no fucking clue how he even agreed to join the arson and take his father's car to drive the group to somewhere in Blåmanen only because Jørn mention he knew a random place that could easily be turned into ashes and neither Olve nor Kristian could let such an occasion pass.

Molotov cocktails prepared in a rush in the bassist's living room, money taken without permission for a second time, this time without any regrets, the rhythm guitarist returned to his antics after a few weeks of living under his mother's shoe. Getting tired and fed up of the thought of being a sore loser while everyone was having fun was to be predicted from the very start but it was remarkable, in the worst sense, how he just managed to play the submissive dog role for so long.

Carpe diem. 

Nothing mattered anymore. It was a libertine motto that had drowned and resurfaced countless times, always hoping that he could make it the most indestructible doctrine of his life.

The fear never faded, it was shoved in the limbo of worries that he was constantly fighting to keep at bay. Repetition, compulsion. He lived in a perpetual cycle of self-sabotage. There was no redemption, no real acknowledgement for what he was doing wrong, no way he could explain to himself how he always ended up in the worst situations, no idea why his own family was plotting to punish him over and over again for the slightest mistakes. Therefore entitlement remained solid, his shadow growing wider and denser, swallowing him whole, turning him into a prestigious entity whose title, although not officially declared, was endlessly exercised upon the innocent.

There was no wonder why he was failing himself, making the same error again and again. To protect himself from being less than perfect, his brain was putting up a barrier between where he ended and the world began. Convenient amnesia and episodic dissociation were his most lethal weapons against the visceral reality in which his consequences were directly proportional to his actions and he wasn't a victim at all. The process of recovering from his worst moments of humiliation and defeat always followed narcissistic rage, denial of truth, rebellion and anger release, but as soon as the feeling of fear, guilt and embarrassment hit him, he would run away in his head, disconnect from his own crime scene, never to face what he's done, never to be responsible, never to learn anything from it all.

Needless to say, the mechanism started all over again with him underestimating his family's disciplinary capability and overlooking his past traumas because if they were to be brought up even to the most basic mental inspection, the sense of helplessness would inevitably crush him.

Back at the bassist's place, they spent the night drinking moonshine, watching everything from foreign movies and wrestling to late cartoons, talking about their music and the promising future that they doubted they had. Those were by far the best times Kristian had in his tedious, lifeless life.

Anew, he lost counting the hours and the shots, the cigarettes he smoked and the friends that one by one left.

In the end he closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he found himself sleeping on the couch with his feet cold and numb. The room couldn't look more disastrous so he knew he wasn't home, then he had to manually remember that he didn't care where he was anymore.

Tiredly, he got up and went to find his bandmate passed out in his own bedroom.

The door was wide open, allowing a generous glimpse inside. Walls were overly saturated in Kiss posters and Playboy covers with a few Metallica and Black Sabbath exceptions printed in between. Clothes were scattered everywhere, both dirty and less dirty, together with empty cans and picked-clean pizza boxes. A guitar was leaning against an old and dusty combo, while the bass was peeking from under the undone bed. An ashtray full of cigarette butts was placed at the very edge of the nightstand, threatening to fall into the ruffled sheets.

Kristian had seen it all before, including the one who was passed out like a sea star in the middle of the mattress with his unruly light-brunette hair covering most of his face. The rhythm guitarist sighed in indignation as he got closer to the unconscious figure, grabbed a pillow and threw it in the face of his target.

'The fuck??' Olve mumbled, cracking his eyes open and pulling the pillow off him to see Kristian glaring with the most acrid expression he was capable of. 'Morgen'

'It's 9 o'clock' the rhythm guitarist vaguely stated. 'I'm going home' then he turned to leave.

Olve just groaned, rubbing the sleep off, dreading to get up and start another day but he did it anyway, following his bandmate into the hallway.

'What's the hurry, man? It's Sunday morning' The bassist asked, clearing his throat and looking dizzy.

'As if you don't know' Kristian rolled his eyes while tying up his Adidas shoes. 'I have to catch the bus home'

'Right, right' the bassist yawned.

'See you around' the rhythm guitarist quickly saluted, walking out the door.

'See ya'

Sunday mornings were meant to be quiet and undisturbed especially in rustic, small communities kilometers away from the industrious agitation. The lack of any soul on the streets on the way to the bus stop made him feel out of frame. Pure snow was crunching under his sneakers, absorbing wetness and cold. The sun was up, a rarity. There was no warmth in the atmosphere but the light projected all over the virgin snow was blinding him like a daytime bat. His only luck was that he knew the way back like the back of his hand.

Public transport was working way less during weekends, making him wait and wait for almost an hour until the autobus arrived.

He knew the holocaust that was waiting for him yet he didn't flinch and didn't panic. Armed to the teeth with carelessness and nonchalance, he had to make a point that will last a lifetime.

When he arrived, no police car was parked on his street, nothing seemed out of place giving off the false impression that nothing happened while he was gone. He could feel his chest tightening yet his glare remained empty but not dull, sharp and callous.

As he stepped in, he saw his mother's tired orbs trying to break into his indifference while she voiced his name firmly, reminding him just how much he hated it.

'What have you told me about changing-'

'I'm done' he cut her off immediately, denying her any chance to talk.

'I don't give a fuck for the police or my father or whoever you want to call on me because I'm not changing! I'm done playing by your fucking rules, living in the shadow of my brother and being the soulless fucking sheep that you want me to be!' He spoke loud and clearly, looking her dead in the eyes, pointing his finger at her.

'I had enough-' she shook her head in disappointment. hardening her decision, she turned to get to the telephone.

'No, I had enough!' He shouted, greatly offended then chuckled at her nerve. 'Go ahead and call him now! Make sure you get rid of the fucking ocean if you ever want to see me again. Come on, call him! I'll be gone in less time than you can dial his number'

He didn't waste any more minutes on her, giving her the most heartbreaking ultimatum, something equivalent to how desperate she made him feel the morning after his first gig. And with his words being the last and most final words, he went straight to his room, slamming the door shut behind him, almost breaking it from the hinges.

A cold shiver ran down his back, his heart began throbbing like after completing a marathon and his mouth dried up. He might be good enough to fool his mind about doing the best thing but he could never fool his body, the one and only apparatus that was always keeping the score.

Waiting in dead silence in his bed for the worst to happen was nothing but mental torture, so he ran away internally. Like the scared, little boy that he was, he put the music on to fill the calm before the storm except that the storm never came and suddenly the day turned into evening and no knock on his door disturbed him, making him feel like it was all in his head. So, he didn't push his luck. He stayed inside the night, getting lost into his unknown fate and into Tolkien's clinking books.

With an average rest of only two hours and a half after isolating himself for almost 24 hours, he woke up starved and confused by the alarm on his nightstand. It was a dreadful Monday again.

Gently pushing the door open, Kristian inspected the territory before finally gathering the courage to sneak out. With his head hanging low, the hair made it impossible for his mother to read his face when he stepped into the kitchen and opened the fridge.

She didn't say a thing, but scanned him thoughtfully, noticing that he didn't change from yesterday's clothes but surprisingly he had his school bag hanging on his shoulder. He tried his best to finish eating a few cold Frikadellers before closing it and leaving although he stopped in his tracks as soon as he heard an eerily controlled voice coming from behind.

'Don't forget the trash'

And to complete the oddity and the undisclosed absurdity of their post-fight interaction, he turned around quick enough to dodge her stare, grabbed the trash bag from the corner and got out the door.

He couldn't fucking believe it.

It worked.

He turned the affliction around, inverted roles. Only if he knew that emotional blackmail could work both ways, only if he knew he had a chance from the very beginning to fight back with dignity, or at least with his warped version of it. But he liked to believe that there was a time for everything and now it was the time to blossom.

The cigarette that he lit up on his unrushed way to school was the first cigarette that he felt he truly needed. Maybe he was already too excited for her bizarre switch into a calm mood, but he couldn't help the sweet and savory sentiment of winning.

---

'How did it go?'

'Mh?'

'Didn't your mom freak out for you disappearing overnight again?'

Kristian chuckled, satisfied while the wind was softly blowing upon his reddened cheeks.

'What's so funny, huh?' Olve smirked, blowing the smoke right in his bandmate's face to annoy him on purpose.

Once classes were over, the rhythm guitarist took a ride to Os to meet up with the bassist who was unavoidably turning into a close and indispensable acquaintance. It wasn't just the flavor for danger that brought them close but the fact that somehow Kristian allowed Olve to get under his skin, making him feel almost comfortable leaving out breadcrumbs of his deeply troubled personal life.

Sitting on the window sill, lazy and unbothered, he liked how the early winter air was hitting the warmth reflux coming from inside the house. The band leader was settled on the bed with a rolled cigarette in his mouth and his unplugged bass in his hand, its headstock bumping into one of his friend's shins.

'I won't have to worry about my mother anymore'

'Did you fucking kill her or?'

'What?!'

Olve snorted, bursting out into copious laughter as soon as he saw the serenity slapped off his comrade’s face.

'What the fuck did you just say??' Kristian asked in a combination of anger, amusement and shock.

'You sounded all serious and you chuckled like yeah, she's finally gone, dude!' the bassist giggled. 'Sue me but I expect anything from you' He teased.

'Fuck you' the rhythm guitarist flipped him off. 'All I'm saying is that I don't think she’ll bother me anymore.. or at least for a while'

'Oh, how so? Did she accept that she's fighting a lost cause?' An eccentric eyebrow was raised.

'Perhaps' Kristian shrugged. 'I had a talk with her'

'Don't beat your mother, dude' Olve suggested in faux pity, poking more fun at the situation.

'You can go fuck yourself. I don't beat my mother' the rhythm guitarist talked through his teeth, darting a threatening look at the other metalhead for a not-so-innocent joke.

'Chill out, I'm just fucking with you' a typical sluggish grin rose on Olve's lips. 'What did you talk about?'

'I told her I don't care anymore. I won't change and if she doesn't understand that I'm off' Kristian replied sincerely, unsympathetic for his own exposed vulnerability.

'How brave of you' the bassist lit up a smoke, the small glow lighting up his face.

The other groaned at the too-obvious sarcasm. 'I'm being serious. If I'm seeing my father one more time, I'm leaving'

'And where are you going? Relatives? Living on the streets? What's your plan B?'

'I don't really know yet, I don't have many options..'

He felt weak for not being able to fully maintain his uncaring attitude.

'Well, I could have a heart and maybe allow you to crush on my couch for a couple of days'

'Aren't you the most benevolent person I know?'

Olve snickered at his friend's sardonic comment and nodded slowly. 'You're damn right I am'

'I could probably find a better place but the effort is not worth it' Kristian replied in a superior manner.

'You know you're sabotaging yourself with that mouth of yours, don't you?' The bassist asked curiously, slightly provoking.

'You know my hearing is selective, don’t you?' The rhythm guitarist mimicked the same tonality. Irked by the brutally honest remark that he hardly let it pass. 'Anyway, what are you up to, loser?'

'Who do you call a loser?' Olve stopped pulling the strings to give his friend an unforgiving glance. 'You might wanna see how my window looks like from the other side'

Kristian smirked, catching the drift but huffing with arrogance. 'I wanna go somewhere, do something'

'You're going alone if you want to. I just made the fire, I'm not going out in the snow again' the bassist let him know.

'How can you be so lazy?' The rhythm guitarist teased, bumping his leg into the band leader's shoulder. 'Come on' Expectantly, he insisted.

'Bye! Have fun!' Olve fought back with his elbow while still trying to play whatever he had in mind.

In the end, Kristian groaned and gave up, stepping off the bed and out of the bassist's room.

'Do you still have those spray paints?'

The band leader interrupted his riffs again when the other metalhead shouted from another room. 'Yeah, why?' He shouted back but the answer never came. 'Kris?.... Kris! Ugh!' Having his spirit of inquiry stirred up, he put his instrument aside and went to find his bandmate.

---

A half moon was embroidered on the night sky, so pristine and so secure.

Finding the local cemetery on a small hill covered in untouched snow and in the absence of public illumination proved to be a real challenge, but they took it at Kristian's whim.

Covering the graveyard in profanity was a brilliant idea that Olve had to give his partner in crime credit for. Just like that, they enjoyed painting inverted crosses and mediocre vulgarities until they ran out of acrylic, then threw the empty cans away and laughed on the way back.

'Hail Satan!!'

With no warning, Olve screamed like a devil into the silent night, the echo of his deep voice being carried away into the great distance.

'What the fuck??' Kristian snorted, his eyes opened wide and in awe. 'Are you fucking mental?' But he couldn't control his laughter at how randomly deranged his friend was.

The bassist also guffawed, loud and obnoxious as he always did. 'Thought we should make our presence known. Let people be afraid!'

It was then when a dog started barking from behind a fence, making them turn their attention to the disturbed canine. The rhythm guitarist thought he heard it all when the bassist started growling back at the animal, his stomach hurting from laughter.

'Jesus fuck, let it go' He tried telling, but failed to be taken seriously by the band leader. 'Leave that damn dog alone'

'He started first' Olve insisted, hitting the fence with his boot, agitating the German Shepherd even more.

'It's gonna break that fence, you idiot. You're fucking asking for it' Kristian warned through giggles but didn't even take a step back. The bassist of course disregarded him and continued being a complete moron even on a sober mind.

'Hei!'

A third voice and a sharp whistle interrupted their late-night shenanigans. Their hearts skipped a beat when they turned to see two policemen standing on the empty street, only 15 meters away from them.

They froze for a second, but when the authorities took a first step towards them, one holding a club in his hand, they broke into a run for their dear lives.

No words were needed as a short but concise look told everything. They split ways, sprinting in parallel directions.

Being the truly unlucky one who was chased by the younger cop with the weapon, Kristian's pulse picked up, adrenaline kicking into his bloodstream. Thinking one hundred thoughts per second, considering each and every obstacle he had to dodge, feeling the icy air hitting his face while reaching the maximum speed felt inhumanely real. He could hear the one behind him yelling, trying his best to reach him but he didn't even want to comprehend what could happen if he was caught. The beating that was waiting for him with that club would make his father's slaps seem like a fucking joke and he knew it.

He kept dashing like an arrow until he gained a bit of space then turned sharply around an apartment building. He stood still like a statue, flat against the brick wall, hearing his eardrums pop at the sound of his heart beat. Eyes shut down and cold shivers ran down his back as he heard rapid steps getting closer and close to him but then they gradually faded.

He let go of the air that he was holding, gasping for oxygen in silence gripping at his chest for abusing the fuck out of the muscle that was keeping him alive.

'Fuck' he cursed on mute, receiving the scare of his life, but he wasn't safe yet. He was still out in the open with two sick bastards running after him and his friend.

As soon as he realized just how exposed he still was, he had no choice but to find a better hideout. Carefully walking around the block, he found a parking lot. No second thought occurred as he crawled under a Suv. For no less than thirty minutes he stood there, lying on his belly under the vehicle, snow plugging his nostrils while he tried to calm down his alerted senses. As the adrenaline wore off, the freezing cold began settling in his bones. Trembling, he started considering that enough time had passed while nothing happened.

Slowly, he crept out in a tactical style using his elbows. Getting out of the parking lot took forever because he would switch from walking to crawling every time a car or a person would walk by, afraid that he might still be searched by the police.

With no idea where to go or where not to go, he went down a poorly illuminated alley trying to find his friend. Lost on the streets of Os, hiding from angry cops on yet another school night was not how he imagined the cemetery walk would be like.

Maybe the officers already caught Olve or maybe the bassist ran home and left him to deal with this alone? Either way, Kristian was screwed.

'Pssst! Kris!.. Kris!'

Shit.

The rhythm guitarist turned around another corner as soon as he heard his name being whisper-screamed from the distance.

What if it was a trap and those two bastards got the band leader and now they were using him as a luring strategy? The footsteps in the snow were getting closer and closer, making him swallow dryly at the thought of his potential arrest.

'Here you fucking are! Holy shit, man, I've been looking for you for the past half an hour-'

The bassist turned at the corner to spot the rhythm guitarist looking absolutely terrified.

'-where the hell have you been? I thought they fucking got you-'

'Are you alone?' Kristian cut his rambles short with the most covering question.

Olve frowned, taking a second to process what he's been asked before nodding quickly. 'Yeah, what the fuck happened?'

'The one with the club ran after me. He lost track but I had to hide under a fucking car for I don't know how long. I'm freezing cold' the rhythm guitarist spilled out. 'What about you?'

'Damn, that's fucking brutal' the bassist through out loud. 'I got chased by the fat one, he gave up really fast and I kept running'

'Lucky you' Kristian scoffed. 'Do you think they're still here?'

'I don't know and I don't want to find out. Let's go' the band leader concluded, turning to leave.

Back indoors where unconditional safety and stove warmth were still lingering in the air, they hoped that nothing would come out of their incident. When nothing could console his bandmate, Olve felt urged to assure Kristian that nobody saw their faces therefore they shouldn't worry about being arrested anymore. The officers must've left long before they reunited, or so the bassist thought.

'It's 1 in the morning. You've got no bus to go home' the band leader looked at the clock on the wall before turning to his friend. 'Are you staying over?'

'Guess I have no option' Kristian replied in indignation. Sitting on the couch in damp clothes, with bits of snow melting off his hair, the only thing that was missing after his failed night was catching a cold.

'I'll get you a sweater' the band leader thought out loud, feeling an ounce of pity for the shivering prick in his living room.

'I don't need it, ugh-' but Kristian didn't have time to protest when the other returned, throwing a wool sweater at him. Despite his huffing and puffing, he took out the wet one, the chilly temperature attacking him through his thin t-shirt, and put on what his friend brought. 'It stinks like sweat'

'It's called testosterone. Maybe one day you'll experience that' Olve mocked as he threw himself onto the couch, intentionally invading his bandmate's personal space.

'Piss off' the rhythm guitarist snarled, hitting the bass in his ribs. 'Make room'

'Let's see what we've got for tonight' the bassist straight out ignored him, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV. 'Oh, it's Undertaker versus Hulk Hogan! That's my treat after outrunning a cop today'

Giggles lightened the atmosphere as they started watching the wrestling show, forgetting about everything one more time.

Chapter Text

The alarm went off at 4:50 in the morning waking Kristian up at the most fuck off hour to catch the first bus ride to Bergen at 5 o'clock.

'What the hell?' Olve objected, opening his eyes in the pitch darkness, slowly figuring out that he fell asleep on the couch watching the wrestling show.

'I have to go' the rhythm guitarist announced, getting up in a hurry, throwing Olve's sweater off, dressing into his own now dry one. 'Bye' he quickly saluted before running out the door.

At a hurried pace, he made it to the station in time. While fishing for coins in his pocket, he realized he barely had enough for a ticket, but the driver let him in anyway, too early in the morning to care or too fed up with his job. Either way, the rhythm guitarist occupied a seat in the very back, making himself as comfortable as he could on the plastic chair because he planned to spend the next hour napping.

Hearing the old man's voice calling out 'End of the line!', he came alive from his slumber and got out.

Arriving home around 6, he found his mother wide awake and always waiting for explanations. A slim cigarette was hanging between her fingers while she looked at him with tired yet alert eyes.

'Where have you been?'

The question was eternal, but this time her tone made the difference. The anger was covert, the worry was present but diluted by prolonged  exhaustion.

'I went to a friend in Os and stood over the night because it was snowing badly' he lied ever so innocently while meeting her orbs. 'I'm back now, don't worry. I'm going to school' was the last thing he said before walking past her, to his bedroom.

The silence persisted behind him. He knew damn well she didn't like what he was doing, but threatening her with abandonment must've really worked like a charm in turning the table.

He couldn't help but smile at the abdominal yet enchanting new situation that he created. Any rational parent would've done something to put a definitive stop to this oscillating nonsense, but she didn't, or rather she failed. Her undercovered weakness was bound to be exploited. After all, he learned from her the fine arts of manipulation. And like the good son that he should've been, he came back from the shower in clean clothes and with his backpack on as if nothing absurd ever happened.

Her intentional ignorance was coated in indignation but he wouldn't have it any other way. No question about him being tired or where on earth did he have the money to go back and forth between Os and Bergen were asked. She just took her purse and left while he remained in the kitchen drinking the rest of the coffee she made.

Just like that life turned worth living once again.

---

The time served in school didn't feel so exasperating when all he did was to sit in the far back of the class, catching up with some sweet hours of rest he lost lately. Being woken up a couple of times by harsher professors and asked questions he had no clue about came with another wave of dreadful embarrassment. If there was one thing that he hated about collectives, it was the judging eyes of his classmates. He knew he wasn't quite the worst example of them all, but what struck everyone's attention was how quick his performance was deteriorating since the beginning of the year. How bold of them to assume that this was the beginning of his educational collapse, when in fact it started much earlier, two years prior to what they were seeing.

As soon as the bell rang, he grabbed his backpack and took off.

Out, in recreation, the corridors would always fill with noisy and hurried students, forming a sea of legs constantly in motion, making navigation even harder to bear for solitary creatures like himself.

Antisocial by nature, living the high-school years, he didn't get exempted from the bullying experience. Being the only metalhead, or rather the only long-haired boy in the whole facility made him stick out like a sore thumb for brainless persecutors and other cavemen alike.

Hardening his glance and tightening his jaw to show no sign of weakness, he walked through the crowd, ignoring the whistle and name-calling in the background. He was reacting much stronger in the beginning, failing to see that his indignation only fueled the degradation. It wasn't like the typical harmless jokes that his bandmates would pull, these ones were specially designed to cut deep and where it hurt the most.

Kristian thought he almost made it to the exit, spotting the open door through a bunch of ugly haircuts when a sharp pain in his right shoulder made him gasp.

'Faggot'

The brand-new insult was whispered in his ear while the impact was taking place. He could practically visualize the smirk on the guy's face as he ruined his whole day in a matter of seconds.

Kristian snapped his head back to meet the cynic eyes of those who had the guts to let the word out and before any other second thought occurred, he punched the oppressor in the stomach. No moment of glorious revenge followed as he got brutally thrown into the locker behind him and held by the collar of his jumper.

Got upset by the truth?' The other mocked, the corners of his mouth turning upwards in satisfaction.

'Piss off' Kristian growled back at him, hearing the laughter and the amalgam of voices all around the scene.

'Got mad? You don't even deny it' eyes turned into slits, the bully's grin growing.

'Let go!' The metalhead barked ineffectively, knowing that he was at the mercy of the other student.

'Oi, gi slipp!' Somebody shouted over everyone. 'Let go or he'll fucking come with his mom tomorrow!' It must've been one of them.

Did as told, the guy let go but didn't leave before throwing a punch in the metalhead's plexus. Kristian gripped his chest, feeling the air being knocked out of him.

Before the bell could ring again, he left for good. Jumped the fence behind the school where the guardian couldn't see him and took the shortest way home.

All alone in his house, the sour tag that's been put on him was holding him oppressed and highly tensioned. The insult hurt more than the bruise that was slowly forming under his shirt, the utter humiliation was corroding the fabric of his soul, corrupting his mind, altering further the already altered self-image, rendering him to feel even more deplorable and minuscule than he was.

Sitting in funeral silence, he was face to face with all of his demons, pointing their crooked fingers at him.

How could he be so weak?

He should've fought back even when he didn't stand a chance. He should've held onto the courage that's been lost as soon as he was thrown into the locker. People were watching and it didn't matter if they were strangers, they could see through his false bravado, they could always see the feeble and the infirm inside him.

He couldn't be one, he knew firmly he wasn't. He experienced attraction towards the opposite gender a few times in the past, but the remark originated from his nonconformist look and he couldn't stand that. When the self-hatred became intolerable, he had to find a temporal destruction, anything that could take his mind away from a fragment of time.

The water was running, scorching hot and with pressure when he entered the bathtub and pulled the curtain. Stepping into the spray of the shower, he hoped to wash away the dishonor of being himself. Eyes fell close, allowing his anger to burn with the cleansing rain on his skin.

How pathetic.

Just when he succeeded in digging his way out of his mother's strictest regime, another rock had been thrown in his way.

Stepping out of the steam, dark hair was dropping over his bare shoulders and onto the porous floor tiles.

Grabbing a towel, he started absently drying himself until he caught sight of his reflection in the corner of the opaque mirror. He knew he shouldn't but he got closer to the sink and brushed the condense off the looking glass in one smooth motion.

Faded blue orbs devoid of any sign of life gazed back at him. Nothing ever changed in the way he wanted and his easily perceived feminine features were making him crawl out of his corpus. A reddish spot was marked in the center of his chest, meant to stay with him for days to come.

With still no sign of growing facial hair, disappointment felt guaranteed. Olve and Jan were shaving their awfully rare moustaches clean and Harald was wearing his with pride while he had nothing to indicate his transition into adulthood.

Why couldn't he be just like the others? From all known aspects, not only the visible lack of masculinity.

There was nothing worse than blossoming late.

---

'Do you want to burn down something?'

It was a question for the one drinking homemade moonshine and cracking pistachio shells in front of the TV while a random flick was playing.

'Didn't we just do that a couple of days ago?' Olve frowned in wonder, turning his head back at his bandmate who was playing guitar acoustically while sitting in an old armchair with his legs hanging over the armrest.

'Well, yeah, but what if we do it again?' Kristian asked, not quite knowing how to convince the bassist. The self-loathing for being called a derogatory term mere hours ago didn't allow him inner peace and there was nothing that could make him release the fury like a good old arson attempt.

'Nah, I'm not going' the band leader shook his head in denial. 'If we do this shit too often, they're really gonna suspect it's something bigger going on. Give it some time, man'

'Tsk, are you serious? You sound like you're just being scared' The rhythm guitarist teased.

'Oh, look who's fucking talking! Weren't you the one I found hiding behind a block, scared shitless that police might still be looking for you? Huh?' Olve felt entitled to ask, grinning from ear to ear.

The look that Kristian darted at him as soon as he brought that moment of vulnerability into discussions almost sent a shiver down his spine.

What is it now?

'Nothing' the rhythm guitarist replied decisively.

Olve didn't even realize that he asked the question out loud, but judging by his bandmate's stiff and hostile reaction, he did, so dropped the subject out of awkwardness.

'Whatever'

He shrugged and returned to his beverage of choice and movie as if the other wasn't burning holes in his skull with his eyes. There should've been no pressure, yet he felt like he had to change his mind in some way. Maybe it was something telepathic going on because he could swear he felt Kristian's impulse trying to wake up his dormant one.

Lastly, Olve breathed out tiredly. He finished up the alcohol in one last gulp and turned to his friend again.

'If you wanna go for a walk or something I'm up for it, but I'm not being fucking stupid tonight'

If he didn't see it, he wouldn't have believed it but blue eyes softened a bit before they looked away. The rhythm guitarist put his instrument aside and got up to get his shoes and jacket.

'A walk? Huh, I knew you were a fucking coward' Kristian teased, pocking the bassist in his ribs with his elbow.

'Excuse me for being the voice of reason for once in my life!' The band leader bit back, doing the same.

'For the love of Odin, you're such a wimp!' The rhythm guitarist rolled his eyes dramatically.

'Call me something dumb one more time and you'll go home with a broken string' Olve threatened, tying his shoes faster and walking out the door into the late afternoon breeze.

'Get laid'

'Oh, that's rich, man. Tell me more!'

It wasn't like he wanted to, but being extra teasing borderline malicious was an automatic defense for being hurt. It didn't matter if the people around him deserved to be offended or not because he couldn't control his negative emotions anyway. Ruled by a malevolence that had long been created in his operating system, he tried trading his darkness for good company and fun.

The moon was telling him that it was his time to shine under the blackened skies. His heart was filled with mischief and he wanted his friend the same, but when nothing could offer him an escape from his mental prison, those feelings calcified, they fossilized for now.

He followed Olve down the lonesome streets, a cigarette in his hand and a bomb still ticking inside his chest, laughing out loud at the bassist's buffoonery, forgetting about himself.

---

Days kept slipping in the pleasant lack of unnecessary family drama, maintaining this newly established routine of aggressive silence but cowardice to address the issue coming from his beloved mother.

For Kristian, it felt like living a double life. One in which he would have great fun with his friends, drinking, smoking, playing guitar and committing small crimes at night. Developing his pyromaniac tendencies came naturally and looking out for news outlets just to keep track of how slow the police was moving to link all of this vandalism together became a source of instant egoistic gratification. Living like he could never be caught on the premises that he was too smart for everyone was his favorite delusional indulgence. But he wasn't the only one living in an action novel, he was sharing that grandiose satisfaction with no one else but Olve.

The second life that he split from the original was the one in which he had a home, some sort of clan and one main responsibility, his scholar education.

With absolutely no chance to drop out, he had to conform, but the effort remained minimal. He stopped being interested in keeping a good student title after 8th grade and since then his academic performance fell apart completely.

Alternating between napping in classes and rehearsal sessions, the time for winter holidays finally arrived for everyone.

A whole month had passed since he was doing whatever he wanted and he almost couldn't believe it, but of course the fantasy had to come to an end when his older brother returned home.

Endless stories about how wonderful life at a university’s campus in Oslo was, rants about extraordinary open-minded people and remarks about career opportunities were all a bunch of vivid exaggerations meant to impress their mother and make him look like a deadbeat compared to his older sibling.

There was nothing that he detested more than being forced to hear the cheap illusion that his brother was selling to their easily-influenced parent at the kitchen table while he had the ungrateful mission to wash dishes, but when he thought that it couldn't get much worse, questions about his undetermined future were pointed at him.

The rivalry between the two didn't start intrinsically, it was induced by their progenitors. However, as they grew up, constantly competing with one another, it eventually became subconscious. Truth be told, there wasn't much malice in his brother, but Kristian failed to see that with his own eyes and took every little insignificant comment extremely personally.

The fact that their mother was not-so-subtly putting all of her hopes and dreams in the oldest one wasn't something that the youngest could brush off easily. On the contrary, he loathed his assigned inferiority with a burning passion. Always coming second best left him scarred, pessimistic and bitter for the love that he had been cut off from.

Having to bear hearing their little chit-chat wasn't easy in the slightest, but he remained silent, answering in monosyllabic words only when he had to, trying to ignore them as much as possible.

To be fair, he didn't expect his mother to keep their late fights and arguments hidden under the rug, but she did. She never spilled a word about Kristian smoking and drinking in front of her other child and although it was a prolific decision, it was also an unnerving one.

Perhaps she wasn't ready to face the fact that she failed at her second chance of raising a human being. Perhaps Kristian's words finally rang a bell in her head after 16 years of emotional indolence, but he doubted that she would ever be able to accept the blame. So, it must've been the shame that kept her mouth shut, the shame that she failed within the nucleus.

Winter holidays were a time for gathering together, enjoying the sudden waves of glacial cold and continental warmness, the mix of snow and rain, melted ice and mud dictated by the ocean rather than the climate of the country. Winter holidays were a time of nihilistic contemplation and suicidal ideation in a household where everything would've been ideal if it wasn’t for the mole.

---

'You look like a wet dog, what's the big deal this time?' Olve teased with his usual question until his friend poked him in the ribs with his knee, threw his backpack on the damp roof tiles and occupied the space nearby.

'There's no big deal' Kristian lied, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it up.

'Huh, say no more' the bassist commented and snatched a cancer stick from his bandmate's pack. 'Tusen takk'

'Hey!' The rhythm guitarist protested, but it was too late. 'Take your own shit'

'I would, but I forgot my cigarette box in my other jeans' the band leader explained, borrowing Kristian's wind-proof Zippo also. 'So, how did the world wrong you this time?'

The other metalhead rolled his eyes in annoyance but decided to be sincere. 'My brother came back from university'

'Oh, right, right. It's Christmas time' Olve commented.

'Yeah, whatever' Kristian mumbled, looking down from the abandoned boarding school and over the forest. 'It's stupid. I can't wait for him to leave again. He wants to stay with my father for a while'

'Is he the favorite one?' The bassist squinted his eyes at the other, curiously.

'Tsk, don't you have better things to ask?' The rhythm guitarist questioned rhetorically, omitting the evident answer.

'You know I don't' the band leader shrugged indifferently. 'Thought you wanted to talk about it'

'I don't want to talk about anything' Kristian sulked. 'How is it that you're not dead drunk yet? It's the fucking winter break'

'Dad's back' Olve chuckled. 'Can't get home drunk while he's here'

'Poor thing'

'Right?'

Blowing the smoke out, watching over the rural landscapes of Lysekloster, Olve could tell that Kristian's silence was ruminative. It had never been for the better so it only could be for the worst. He thought insisting would only piss the rhythm guitarist off, so he let it go, choosing to be the one who's sharing something to fill the awkward quietness.

'Mom sent me another postcard yesterday'

'Did she?'

Kristian saw a spark that lit up in the bassist's eyes as soon as he mentioned his mother.

'Yeah, she's in Seattle now. You can see the blue sky, the cityscape and the Space Needle. It's a pretty fucking cool view' the band leader rambled with his cigarette between his teeth while reaching in his chest pocket. 'Here' he pulled out a small piece of cardboard.

The rhythm guitarist got closer to visually inspect the picture, his eyes unintentionally catching the succinct message of 'Jeg savner deg!!!'

'Why don't you ever write back to her?' he couldn't help but wonder.

'Tsk, do you think I don't want to?' Olve snorted amusingly, but his tone turned serious abruptly. 'I wish I could, I have so many things to tell her. I want to ask her how she's been and when I can come there, but she never writes a return address' he shrugged. 'Maybe she forgets about it or maybe she's just visiting a lot of places and she will be gone until my letters arrive. I don't know'

Deep blue orbs shifted from his friend's stoic profile to the postcard and back at him.

Pity wasn't a sentiment that he would often attribute to others, but there was something about the band leader collecting all of his mother's postcards, waiting like a loyal pet for his owner to be taken with them one day, someday.

Having obsessive dreams of reunion with the parent that abandoned you was imperceptible and he couldn't understand how Olve was so blatantly blind to see the evident betrayal that's been done to him. How far could this so-called unconditional love go? He couldn't find a satisfying answer for himself let alone his bandmate.

He could break the bubble if he wanted to, tell the bassist the harsh truth that he's putting all of his faith into nothing, that his dear mother didn't want him there with her and he was the biggest fool on earth for believing those generic messages. He could spare the band leader the time he keeps wasting daydreaming about a new life abroad that would never happen, so the wound wouldn't have to bleed so much when eventually the truth would come out. But he didn't, opting to be the friend that Olve needed instead of the one he should have.

'Maybe she will remember next time' The rhythm guitarist shrugged.

'Yeah, well, I hope she does. Dad says I'm wasting time on her, but that's just him teasing me, you know? He's a bit of a jokester too' Olve put the souvenir back in his pocket and threw away the burnt filter.

'How much since you've been living alone?' Kristian asked, finishing up his own cigarette.

'Hm, one year and three months I guess. Why?' The bassist raised his eyebrows in question.

'Just wondering' the rhythm guitarist quickly found a pretext for his inquiry. 'You're the luckiest of us all'

The bassist chuckled in triumph. 'Man, you don't know how happy I was when he told me I'll be living on my own. It's a bit weird at first when you have to figure out how to make the cash last you a whole month. I'm still not doing a great job at it because I'm barely surviving on the last couple of days before he sends money again, but hey, overall it's fucking worth it' He casually ranted. 'Well, except that I get bored sometimes and some days when nobody is up to hang out I don't even get to share a word with another person, but those are details. I couldn't care less really'

Of course it couldn't be all true because the lack of a solid household foundation showed clearly in the bassist's clinginess regardless if he was aware of not. Kristian could easily recognize his own emotional instability, neglect and massive need for attention in his friend. Although similar in a way, their path was splitting at how they were getting the importance that they’ve been deprived of. Olve was much more overt and extroverted, some kind of a showman compared to Kristian who's nature was covert, shy and impossibly reticent. He envied the bassist for doing a better job at obtaining recognition from their peers.

'Anyway, I've been learning some cool Sodom riffs lately-'

The band leader kept talking, chaotically switching from subject to subject whenever he remembered random things, hoping that somehow he would succeed in cheering up his seemingly depressed bandmate. He didn't have to, but it was in his character to lift up the black cloud over his friend's shoulders.

The rhythm guitarist noticed the effort and eventually he began feeling more at ease and engaged in their topics.

Kristian didn't know exactly what made their friendship stronger, but whatever it was, he felt drawn to the bassist even in moments when he couldn't stand himself let alone another individual. Olve was a good distraction, a natural born entertainer and nothing less.

---

Coming home was a dreadful thought that the rhythm guitarist could only postpone so much. Changing buses, staring out the window at the sedentary scenery, wishing that his Walkman didn't die halfway through his ride back in town, he felt homeless although in retrospect he wasn't.

He should've felt happy for not being waited by an angry mother at the door because now she was too absorbed into his older sibling to notice him anymore.

With numbness of the heart ruling over him, he continued walking without direction until he surrendered due to physical exhaustion. No dinner followed tonight because the company left him bitter and with no desire to refill his battery. It doesn't even matter anyway. The unforgiving critic in his mind made himself known.

Eating or not eating, he could never make the mirror reflect anything but the body that he hated so much. The shell that never changed in the way he wanted to, never improved to meet his goal.

What an agonizing little existence.

In the end, he went to bed trying to omit the overly cynical, erratic-dramatic way in which his cerebrum was operating.

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. 

Chapter Text

A day had passed, then another one and another one. Kristian simply refused to leave his bedroom after New Year's Eve. The feeling of eternal doom became so unbearable that he couldn't bring himself to get out of bed and eat, let alone find the energy to spend time with his miscellaneous friends.

His beloved mother thought he might have caught a cold during the celebration, but she didn't give it much thought since he delivered his point of being old enough to take care of himself and she was too occupied with going on dates with her new romantic interest to stay inside and nurse her son.

There was no point in doing anything at all. He wasn't wanted or needed in anyone's life and the more he entertained his morbid realization, the more he wanted to just quit living.

The sound of the telephone abruptly ringing through the funeral silence was stirring up a headache and he already drew a line that he had enough. Bones popped when being stretched after sitting curled in a fatal position for so long. He had to pick up because whoever was calling was annoyingly insistent as if they knew that there was somebody home who intentionally wanted to ignore the calls. He knew for sure it wasn't his mother, as she would have given up after 4 seconds.

His irritation was growing stronger and stronger with every step he took until he reached the damn thing and asked demandingly. 'Ja?' The tension in his shoulders unconsciously disintegrated as soon as he heard who was on the other side, waiting for him to answer.

It wasn't a great time to drag his feet past the door frame, not when he skipped taking a shower for almost three days in a row, not when the emotional numbing was rendering him a human-robot sort of prototype.

The weather was showing him no reason to ditch his pseudo comfort and go out. The snow had melted entirely as the ocean brought an unexpected wave of warmth across the west coast, making precipitations come down in the form of rain. This peculiar shift in temperature from under zero to 10 degrees in the middle of winter was exactly what Bergen was well known for.

The downpour stopped just as he exited his neighborhood, giving him a bit of hope that maybe it was worth inhaling some fresh air.

Going downtown, he spotted the reason for his sporadic decision waiting in front of the music store with a gray beanie pulled over his eyebrows and a rolled cigarette in his mouth.

'Look at you, Kris. I haven't seen you since last year. You haven't changed a bit, have you?' Olve smirked at his own joke as he began walking with his friend wherever their legs would take them. 'Why the hell did it take you so long to pick up the damn phone?'

Kristian sighed loudly and asked a better question. 'What do you fucking want?'

'Ugh, can't you start the new year without being anything but The Grinch?' The bassist started in force with more teases. 'I bet you already ruined your folk's Christmas with your whining'

The rhythm guitarist chuckled at the divine irony of the metalhead's words of truth. 'Of course, how else?'

If he would normally react violently at such a remark, now he let it go, giving Olve a red flag that something might hide beneath the surface. 'So, was partying with the family so epic that you completely forgot about us?'

'Why use the plural? There's just you who keeps bothering me' Kristian asked passive-aggressively instead of replying to the question.

'Now we both know that's bullshit because if I was really bothering you, you would've stayed at home where it's nice and dry instead of going out in the rain with me' The band leader responded nonchalantly, pointing out what was a clear fact.

He could sense the tension rising within his mate for seemingly no motive, but he wasn't about to give Kristian the fight that he was so eagerly looking for.

'I'm just wasting time' was the rhythm guitarist's narrow excuse. He averted his eyes, feeling cornered and pathetic. 'And the party was great, by the way. Have you ever tasted real Champagne?'

'You arrogant prick' the bassist grinned, knowing that the comment was an insult instead of a joke but overlooked it. 'Well, I haven't, but I had a big, fat joint, 5 beers and 8 shots of whisky and vodka. The bash was fucking awesome. We started off listening to Kreator, chilling on the couch and rolling and by the end of the night, we were running in Jan's neighbor's backyard, jumping over firecrackers that were bursting out' he kept rambling, hyped to tell his friend about his late shenanigans. 'One cracker almost shot up in Demonaz's ass right as he was coming after me. He screamed and cursed all of us and I swear I could've died of laughter. Jørn's girlfriend broke up with him right before the countdown because he found Jørn making out with one of her friends on the couch. Oh, the chicks! Shame on you, you missed a few nice cleavages. None of them gave me a chance but one said I'm funny so at least I got it confirmed. This should mean something, right?'

'Right, sure' Kristian replied absentmindedly, wishing he could go back in time and make the right decision.

'You know what? I still have some firecrackers left from that night' Olve informed him, taking out of his pocket a handful of bullet crackers. 'Do you wanna throw them in people's cars or houses and run?'

'I don't know, I guess I'm not in the mood today' the rhythm guitarist replied right away, not even considering his mate's suggestion.

The band leader knew right then and there that something was wrong, but he had no idea how to approach the issue or if he should approach it at all. As guys often do, they would never talk about feelings. He could count on one hand all the times that Kristian slipped something intimate or vice-versa. Either way, they kept roaming endlessly through the city with Olve doing all the talking until he had the bright idea to climb on the roof of an apartment building and look down at the urban panorama.

It took a while until they were able to spot a perfect place with an unlocked door to the roof, but finally they found their lucky card.

The light rain dissipated, making room for a thick mist to curl around the old town. Infrastructure lights were looking blurry in the distance like little blinking fireflies. Further in the background they could see the bare hills and black mountains that were keeping their natal land hidden. A filter of azure blue was stretching over the horizon, darkening by minute as the daylight was fading out.

Smoking in peace somewhere at a higher altitude where they could watch everything that's living and moving underneath them made them feel like two corrupted divinities. One that was too cynical to take life seriously and one that was staying a bit too close to the margin.

'I'm giving up on school'

Olve was the first to break the silence just so he could win a minute of Kristian's attention. The rhythm guitarist woke up from his contemplation, humming in wonder.

'You know I wanted to do this for a long time. Now that the winter break is almost over and dad's gone again until June it's a high time to drop out' the bassist announced pridefully.

'Tsk, are you jealous that Jan ditched his own electrician classes two months before Christmas?' The rhythm guitarist thought out loud.

'Perhaps' Olve shrugged.

'Won't your teachers lose their shit and start harassing your father with phone calls if you stop showing up completely?'

'Nah, I don't think so. They barely saw me 5 times in the last month. I didn't even attend the last semester's exams and nobody said shit about it. They probably know that calling home is a waste of time in my case'

'How convenient'

'Yeah, what about you?'

'What about me?'

'You said you wanna back out too. What's keeping you going?' Chestnut brown eyes caught neptunic blue for a second.

'Tsk, my mother..?' Kristian replied obviously. 'She won't let me do that. We have a.. weird agreement of some sort. She'll close her eyes on me smoking and drinking but I have to go to school'

'Huh, seems like she's lying to herself that you'll eventually do something useful with your life' the band leader joked, hoping to earn at least a few giggles from the other.

Kristian chuckled bitterly, then looked down at the cars in motion on the sleek, wet streets. 'What is to do useful with your life?'

The conversation abruptly darkened. It wasn't like Olve didn't entirely predict such a nihilistic turn. After all, he's been watching in silence his bandmate's mental downfall for a while now, but to have Kristian freely throw this question at him felt surreal. How he wished he would have bitten his tongue with his previous remark.

'Writing music and playing live is the way to go, man. It's therapy for the soul' he responded awkwardly, just so they won't go down that spiral.

'Well, it stopped being therapy for my soul not long ago' Kristian slipped out raw sincerity.

'What do you mean?' The bassist questioned as if he didn't catch the sense behind those words.

'Not much. It's just.. doing anything at all became pointless' The rhythm guitarist mumbled under his breath, unaware of how much he was letting out, courageous to take a step further towards the very edge of the building.

Hands were shoved deep inside his pockets while salt-saturated wind was blowing through his damp locks.

'What the hell, dude?' Olve blurted out lost in what to say, hoping that his friend's gesture was just a morbid farce. Suddenly, the distance between them felt infinite and he didn't find it in him to do any rapid movement.

The blatant nonchalance and deep dullness in his bandmate's eyes stung like a slap across his face and he knew then that there was no joke at all. 'Kris-'

'Let's fucking face it. There's nothing to lose when no one knows your name'

There was an ounce of truth in his blood-chilling words that the bassist was well aware of, but he couldn't believe the sheer honesty, pushed by desperation in Kristian's macabre intention.

Olve shook his head in negation, eyes glued to his friend's pale face. Too many sentences were fighting inside his head to just say the right thing and do it in time.

'It's that what this is all about? There's nothing to gain if you fucking do this' the bassist swallowed the knot in his throat, careful to maintain his voice firm yet calm. The other's silence urged him to go on. 'It's not worth it'

'How could it be not worth it when it's so easy to slip and finally find some fucking peace?' The rhythm guitarist asked rhetorically, turning his head to the bright neon nothingness beneath him. 'I never wanted to live a long and pitiful life. I've already seen it all and there's nothing that might make me stay-'

'Fuck it!' It was then when the sheer anticipation made Olve snap. 'Fuck your filthy-rich parents and fuck your snob brother for what they say! You don't have to fucking give them the satisfaction of winning the fight. I have no idea what the hell is going on, but you can't let them win, man. Don't give them that' there was no way in which he could mask his desperation in that moment. 'Live out of spite! Live to prove them wrong! You can still be what you want to be, what you said you are when I met you'

Kristian didn't say much about himself in the beginning except that he was a bedroom music-writer with aspirations much bigger than the world would give him credit for. A raging combatant against the system, an all-time misanthrope breaking modernist illusions, a part-time arsonist for the thrill.

Eyes closed, visualizing his imminent fall, but giving too much importance to the band leader's speech. Unfortunately, the moment of high suspense had been consumed, leaving him feeling pathetic as he turned around and walked further away from the edge. He couldn't face the bassist, not after making a fool of himself time and again. Not after this.

'I don't want to go home' he mumbled under his breath, too tired to be the dull burden of his mother tonight.

'Then you don't fucking have to' the band leader commented, finally getting closer to his suicidal mate. 'Let's go to my place and find something to do, alright?' He didn't even allow Kristian time to reply as he put a hand on his back and led him to the open door.

Back in the autobus, he couldn't stand Olve's silence. The bassist's hands were crossed at his chest, his head was leaning onto the dirty window, eyes were focused on nothing.

The shame of his unsuccessful charade was pressing on Kristian like a boulder. His image was ruined beyond repair and now he had to live with that knowledge. He bit his lip in all awkwardness to start the conversation again.

'Can you..' his insecurities were showing in his apprehensively long pause. 'Keep your mouth shut about this?'

It was a favour that he was open to beg for if that meant keeping a bit of dignity within the group.

'Yeah'

After the band leader eased his stress. The quietness befell one more time with both of them reviewing over and over again what the fuck did just happen.

Arriving in the small, suburban division of Os, the unmelted snow and the icy breeze hit Kristian's senses. He didn't know why he came there because this could not be his refuge from home, but he feared the things he might do if left on his own and Olve seemed too disturbingly serious to argue against his call.

Crashed on dusty furniture with a bag of chips, salty pistachios and no alcohol made the night even more dubious.

Not quite sure why he chose to stay alive when he thought he knew better made him wonder if the bassist really meant his words or they were just a frantic attempt to convince him not to jump. The idea of having someone believe in him for once in his life would feel like a bandage over his bleeding heart. The lethargy and overall exhaustion combined with the warm woolen blanket in which he was wrapped and the Elvira movie that he had seen a thousand times before made Kristian fall asleep in the armchair.

The band leader didn't close his eyes so easily even if the initial shock was long gone, there were more questions than answers.

Hopefully, it won't happen again.

---

As soon as the winter break ended, everything returned to how it was previously, everything excluding a few insignificant details. Pleasantly engaged in her new dating life, Kristian's mother gave up on him completely. Her all-time superficial way of thanking her youngest for helping her on the New Year's Eve was through financial compensation. A few more bucks in his pocket would never be enough to soothe his broken heart, but at least now he could medicate himself with more booze and nicotine.

He didn't want to admit, but the bassist's old house became unironically his second home. Since his parent didn't care to verify where her offspring was anymore, he found himself spending more and more time at Olve's than anywhere else. It was nice in a way to put the emptiness aside for a little while and waste time with someone who strangely turned out to be the closest friend he ever had. He could tell that his company was wanted, seeing much clearer just how lonely the band leader could get living alone in the middle of nowhere. They never once brought the subject of suicide prior or even after that day, both preferring to bury the attempt deep within subconscious.

Their mates started to see the two as an official team, being the only ones always up for all sorts of crazy shit. One single organism with two heads programmed to wreak havoc everywhere they went, laughing the loudest at their petite offences, bragging about whatever great ideas they had in their arsenal, underestimating every authority to the point of being plain stupid.

Everything was fine for a short period, now that almost all of them ditched their education and took life for the offensive, discriminatory and unpredictable experience that it was.

On a regular Wednesday afternoon, the Grieghallen Studio was filled with chatter, hilarity and instrumental noise. As usual, Olve was sharing his and Kristian's latest shenanigans with Jan, waiting for their late lead guitarist to show up so they could start rehearsing.

'-so we set that old barn on fire, jumped the fence and ran out-' the bassist cut himself off at the sight of Harald entering the room. 'Velkommen, bror! Better late than never'

Jan couldn't help but snort at the not-so-subtle remark the band leader made.

'Hey how's it going?' Harald asked, putting down his guitar case, ignoring his bandmate's silly allusion.

'Hey, man' the drummer saluted, getting up from his desk chair to stretch his limbs. 'Where have you been?'

'Home. I had to help my folks out with something. Anyway, shall we start?' The lead guitarist rushed to get things going, avoiding more questions.

'Do you ask us? We've been born ready to start' Olve teased, grabbing his own instrument and getting in front of the microphone. 'Let's do Devoured Carcass, I had it in my head all day long'

'Let's go' Kristian agreed, leaning on the wall with his guitar in his hands.

'3, 2, 1!' Jan counted, beating his drumsticks together before hitting the drum set, starting the song in style.

There was no such thing as time to warm up when all they wanted was the pure chaos that was guaranteed by their first try, but that was part of their musical characteristics. They knew they sounded good and they were indeed making progress with every new repetition they attended.

Unfortunately, Olve couldn't say that waiting one hour for his bandmate to arrive was worth the trouble because there was something that Harald was holding back from him and he could tell by how rigid he was playing.

After one hour and a half of messing around with hard riffs, amp settings and brutal songs, the band leader eventually asked out his ardent question. The smoking break was the best window to do so.

'So, what's on your mind, man? You don't sound like you today. Did you break up with your girl or what?'

The frown that Harald gave off didn't pass unnoticed. 'No, it's just.. ugh, I have to do something with my life. That's all'

'We all have to' the bassist raised his eyebrows dramatically, blowing toxic smoke in the air. 'I don't even want to think about this' he giggled in self pity.

'Yeah, well, some things changed after Christmas' the lead guitarist commented.

'What is it?' Olve asked, now more curious than ever.

Harald didn't reply right away, finishing his cigarette first. 'I'm moving to Oslo'

'What??' The band leader snorted, amusingly and baffled. 'You're not serious-'

'But what if I am?' The metalhead turned abruptly towards his friend, visibly irked by his attitude. 'My girlfriend got a good job offer in Oslo and we've already made plans to move together'

'And what about the band?' The bassist blurted out, offended by how unimportantly this matter seemed. 'What about us? What about our fucking dream?'

'Ugh, what's the matter now?' Jan interrupted them, coming outside with his own unlit cigarette between his lips.

Kristian was following them attentively with his eyes like a silent feline, but didn't feel like intervening yet.

'Oh, Harald is giving up on us' Olve shrugged, obviously pissed. 'Do you need a lighter?

'Jeez, I'm not giving up on you!' Harald burst out, frustrated enough. 'Look, I know it's a shitty thing to do because you've been my friends since high-school, but I can't chose you over her-'

'And what about your studies then? You're gonna give up on those too to stay with your chick in Oslo?' The bassist didn't give him any chance to justify himself.

'I've already talked with my profs. I put those on hold until I decide what to do next. I can't stay here anymore. I'm sick and tired of living in my parent's basement, doing nothing all day and hoping that somehow I'll become a rockstar overnight. You have to get real, Olve-'

'But I'm getting real! I'm about to lose my fucking best friend and there's nothing I can do about it. How fantastic is that??' The band leader snapped. 'And why would you say that's nothing to do here when you already play in a band? Our band. We've had a gig in Apollon, who is to say we won't get any more-'

'One gig in 2 years since we've been playing. One gig, a demo and only 50 copies sold. Do you honestly believe this looks like a bright future for our project?' The lead guitarist tried to knock some sense into his mate's head.

'You should give it some time-'

'I don't have more time and I'm sorry'

And just like this, everything they've been working on crumbled down.

'Fucking great, man. Give it all up!' Olve slapped his hands on his thighs in a gesture of exasperation.

'Dude-' Jan tried to intervene, emphasizing with the lead guitarist.

'I'm starting over' Harald continued talking, annoyed and blunt. 'If anything, you should give more fucks than me about the future'

'Yeah, yeah. For sure' the bassist replied sarcastically, pulling another cigarette out of his pack, lighting it up and turning to walk away.

'Grow up, man. Start seeing the bigger picture' the lead guitarist advised, not spiteful, but disappointed, then sighed. 'Sorry, Jan, but I've got no option'

'Nah, it's fine, I get it. It sucks but I guess it is what it is' the drummer replied in honesty.

Of course that Jan took Harald's side, being closer in age to him than to the bassist. Still being part of the 16 club, Kristian could totally relate to Olve's impediment.

He hated how Harald omitted to say anything to him personally after spending some time together, but he was well aware of the lead guitarist's prideful attitude. After all, he just witnessed how stupid pride drove two best friends apart.

'And what about Jørn and Truls? Did you talk with them or?'

'Hm? Yeah, I did. I told Truls I have to leave. I thought he might have told you already'

'He went with us in Hulen yesterday, but he didn't said anything'

'Oh, well'

After that, Harald went inside to collect his equipment and leave. He had a few days to pack up his things and embark on a long car ride to the capital.

15 minutes later, Jan and Kristian were still at the studio, debating what they should do next when they heard the door open and unhurried steps on the small corridor.

The rhythm guitarist could've sworn that the band leader ditched everything and left for good considering how badly he took the news and having his blatant immaturity painfully pointed out in his face. But when Olve returned, he didn't bring back his happy-go-lucky demeanor, instead, he seemed detached, still angry but the anger was more controlled.

'All good?' Jan raised an uncertain eyebrow at the scene the band leader made. He couldn't help but feel bad for his mate.

'Wonderful' the bassist replied sarcastically.

'So, what do we do now?' The drummer had to know.

'You aren't leaving out of the sudden too, are you?' Olve chuckled, his joke holding a hint of hostility and reproach.

Jan laughed nervously and shook his head. 'No, no. Don't worry'

'We need someone to play lead' the band leader stated with his hand on his hips.

That was it, Kristian's unique opportunity to make himself remarkable.

'I could play lead-'

'How about Tore? He said his last project failed, didn't he? I’ll call him tomorrow'

No chance. Olve spoke over him right when he opened his mouth to propose his bright idea. He had never felt more null in his clique ever.

'Yeah, he could fit well' the drummer agreed. 'If not, it can work with one guitarist. After all, that was the original plan'

'Nah, we have to extend ourselves, not hold back. Two guitarists are better than one, that's for sure'

Ultimately, it was Olve's unthought comment that put the last nail in the coffin, breaking Kristian's last hope.

Tiredly and left in a bit of uncertainty, they decided to call it a day earlier and leave. 

Hitting the nearest bar was the most predictable thing to do. One beer was fine for Jan and Kristian, but not for everyone at the table. After buying the band leader another one, the rhythm guitarist told him straightforwardly that it was all for tonight, not because he genuinely cared about Olve's well-being, but because he couldn't waste all of his money in one go like that.

The oddity of it all was seeing what he naively thought didn't exist, a darker shade in his friend's personality, one that was screaming in his face serious abandonment issues. How unmatching were the features of anger on the bassist's face and how intense it seemed to be that outburst of frustration. It almost made him wonder if they didn't have much more in common than he initially assumed.

Around 11 pm they parted ways. Kristian took the shortcut home and the other two ran to the bus station to catch the last ride back home.

Chapter Text

'Why the hell can't I play lead from now on?'

'Ugh, why are you still moaning about this?'

'I'm not moaning, I'm asking because you didn't give me a valid answer'

'I told you already you sound better playing rhythm'

'You know I can play lead just as good only if you weren't that insufferable to not even consider this option'

'Yeah, yeah, for sure'

'Asshole'

'Hey, look who's talking!'

Kristian sighed loudly and Olve rolled his eyes, dismissing all of his bandmate's previous comments. 'Look, Tore's great playing lead. It's been almost two months since we made the change. Get over it'

There was no hostility in the band leader's words as he knew too well how insistent the rhythm guitarist could be if things deviated from his ideal. After all, if Olve was fully honest to tell him straightforwardly that Tore was playing by far much better than him, he would have to sleep with the light on and a knife under his pillow, but aside from being overly dramatic, it was the better option.

---

More precisely one month and a half had passed since Harald left for Oslo, time in which Olve abandoned school completely. He met up once with his pal after their fallout. It was only after two days when he realized that holding grudge was childish, although he didn't apologize for his outburst, he wanted to remain in decent terms with his ex lead guitarist. After all, losing his best friend hurt more than losing a bandmate.

Things didn't go quite as planned when dropping out. Apparently, the principal made an effort to call his aunt after three weeks of missing classes. It was a bitch move for certain, but it didn't quite compare to the even bigger bitch move that his aunt made by calling his father and broadcasting the latest news. Needless to say, Olve's father didn't take the novelty lightly. The man didn't insist for his brat of a son to go to school, in fact, he didn't even ask what led to his offspring's brusque decision, he told him one thing that was about to change Olve's life forever. 'Either work or out of the house' was the firm verdict that's been given to his almost-adult child like a slap on his face and before he could get vociferous about it, his father ended the call.

To say that life sucks was a major understatement now. With barely enough money to survive through January, the bassist was mortified to think what on earth he would do in February, because sure as hell he didn't want to get a job, not when he was a fighter in a noble war of rebellion. He could never even conceptualize changing his mind and becoming a Satan-forbid productive member of the society. Therefore, once he hit rock bottom and the financial crisis knocked at his door, he had to rely on the questionable kindness of his good peers. 

If his situation was pitiful and arguably understandable at first, towards the second half of February it started to become an annoying circus of begging. In other circumstances, it may have been better only if Olve wasn't already the biggest deadbeat in Vestland. Balls-deep in credit for all the beer and cigarettes he managed to 'borrow' from his friends throughout the year, he knew that this time he was screwed. 

Jan helped him with some emergency cash, being a fresh dropout himself and already working at a chemical factory. Kristian had to contribute too, solely pushed by peer-pressure not impressed by the bassist's pity-party. After all, there was nothing but innate laziness and fraudulent helplessness that kept the band leader from getting his shit together for once in his life.

The rhythm guitarist's birthday came and went on the 11th, upgrading him to the relatively less embarrassing age of 17.

It felt nice to have an ounce of his mother's attention once in a while now that his hopelessness and repressed anger were deeply indented in the fabric of his soul and the new man in her life became another scandalous regularity. Another boost of extra money was more than welcomed when there was nothing else she could offer, so he took them with entitlement and threw them on the fanciest cocktails he could find in Apollon to reinforce his status as an unscrupulous trust-fund Fana kid. All in all, Kristian's anniversary was a decent experience but the partying spree didn't end so quickly because in only two days Dissection was coming to Bergen.

Considering just how small the metal scene was in their wet, dull and dirty port city, having any extreme band performing was a treat. 

The excitement wasn't as big as it was for Slayer since he never heard about them before, but Kristian was hyped to have a reason to find life worth living, at least for the upcoming event.

---

'So, are you ready for tonight's show?'

Olve asked while strolling through the muddy forest with his partner in crime.

'Tsk, you're asking me as if I haven't gone to any concert before' the rhythm guitarist rolled his eyes, leading the way to the abandoned boarding school.

'I'm asking because I've got a present for you, douchebag' the bassist commented, accentuating one fine word.

'Oh, yeah?' Kristian felt intrigued. 'What present?'

'That's top secret. I'll give it to you tonight' Olve teased, giving the other a playful bump with his elbow.

'You didn't buy me shit. You're fucking broke and you owe Jan one salary' the rhythm guitarist reciprocate the gesture, only that he hit harder.

'Be nice or I won't give you anything!' the band leader giggled but meant it.

'You're just making it up. Give it a break!' Kristian snickered, sticking his leg out to make the bassist trip up. 'Watch out'

'Think you're a sneaky bastard, huh?' Olve mocked, almost losing balance. He kicked his bandmate's leg with his dirty sneaker and jogged ahead.

'Oh, you will fucking pay for this' Kristian warned, trying to brush off the mud stamped on his jeans.

'Empty threats, that's all you've got!' The band leader mocked, but started sprinting the moment his friend gave chase.

Finding the ruined building, they went inside, climbed up the stairs and stopped in front of an arguably cleaner wall. It was then when Olve put his backpack down, unzipped it and pulled a bunch of spray cans out.

'I don't know how many of these still have any paint in them' the bassist informed, shaking the first can that he grabbed and trying it on the wall without any success. 'That's empty'

Kristian tried his luck and did the same only to find one that still contained a bit of acrylic. 'This one still works'

'Nice. Go ahead, Da Vinci' the band leader suggested, trying yet to find some spray for himself.

There was no call for a work of art to be made, but in order to kick-start their dumb way of having fun, they had to consume all of the graffiti cans first.

Dark lyrics were written in black ink, letters dripping over other letters underneath. It was a manifesto of some sort and what else could accompany the text other than a few band logos and Olve's try-hard attempt at Venom's mascot. He didn't care that he hated them musically, that drawing was just sick.

Once done they set fire to a small pile of rotten garbage into a corner near to the open window and came closer with their aerosol containers.

'Have you done this shit before?' A bushy eyebrow was raised while watching the flames rise shily.

'Nope, but I've heard that's cooler than throwing firecrackers' the bassist shrugged. 'Just make sure no spark jumps on you'

And with that being said, he threw the first can and backed off, counting a few seconds in his head until he heard an awful bang piercing through the silence, fire burst out making pieces of burning aluminum fly in all directions.

'Damn, that was loud' Olve smirked, giving his bandmate a dirty look.

The rhythm guitarist didn't waste a minute and threw another can into the fire. A second explosion occurred, the room filling with the stench of smoke and fumes even if most of it was evacuated through the window. Another can and another one followed until the 6 of them were all roasting in the bonfire. Whenever the blaze would get out of control, they would throw chunks of snow over to tame it down so they wouldn't have to abandon their dangerous entertainment too soon.

The toxins that they were inhaling, gave Kristian a wave of nausea. He felt like staring at the blaze for hours if it wasn't for the imbecile who broke his trance by throwing a hand over his shoulders unannounced.

'Oh, did I scare you?' The band leader grinned widely when the rhythm guitarist jerked under his sudden touch.

'You wish' Kristian frowned and pulled away. 'Perhaps you want to try again from the fire'

'Awh, why do you gotta be so vicious all the time?' The bassist whined, making the other roll his eyes.

'Careful what you wish for' Kristian threatened.

'Oh, can it get much worse?' Olve teased kicking a random broken bottle into the wall. 'Alright, let's put this shit out and get going. I can't fucking breathe in here'

He would've left the place to burn down without a care in the world if he was alone. He didn't believe in the band leader's civic spirit, but maybe this forsaken building had more sentimental value than he let out.

Back indoors, the sound of reverb and overdrive were blasting through Olve's amplifier. It was a semi-functional Fishman combo that had two instrumental inputs, namely two separate channels for acoustic and electric, features that the bassist was mind-blown by when Kristian pointed them out. Since their discovery, the rhythm guitarist made sure to grab his guitar with him more often when he went to Os, so they could play together when there was nothing better to do. Using a distortion pedal and the right settings was enough to upgrade the acoustic channel to electric.

For any common instrumentalist, their innovation looked atrocious, almost perverse to abuse a combo like that, but they didn't care about such a thing if they could both use it at the same time.

Situated in the middle of his messy living room was the band leader, pulling strings and headbanging on Bathory's track Holocaust while Kristian was strumming from the sofa.

They had many improvised concerts in two. Making sure they learn the same song so they don't ruin the speaker with all kinds of noises at the same time. It wasn't as fun as their official rehearsals, but they didn't need much to find joy in what they were doing.

Hours would pass with cigarette breaks and Redbull chugs in between until fingers would start to hurt, or until Kristian remembered that this wasn't his formal residence outside weekends.

Opening the fridge without much hope, the rhythm guitarist was still disappointed to find nothing but two cans of Øl.

'How much it's been since your aunt passed by??' He yelled over the noise in the main room.

'Uh, two weeks and a half, almost! Why??'

'What do you mean why? She used to come once a week to bring you food. What the hell happened?'

Kristian heard the Olve's giggles as he muted his bass finally.

'I dropped out, that happened' the band leader replied. 'She came by after talking with dad to say that she won't bring me anything anymore if I don't change my mind, which I won't and I told her auf Wiedersehen' the band leader casually explained. 'Truth be told, I would've died of hunger if it wasn't for Jan's funds. You know those Swedish meatballs you ate here a couple of days ago? Those were made by Jan's mother. She's a great cook, man. I could get used to that'

'So, you're really going to sit on your ass, do nothing and be the worst social case in Norway?' The rhythm guitarist walked back to his bandmate.

'What are you talking about? I've heard the guys from Mayhem have it worse. They live off ketchup packs and flatbreads. They're a sad case, not me!' the bassist replied, almost offended.

'Yeah, right' Kristian added sarcastically.

'Why do you care so much?' Dark brown eyes squinted at him in mild annoyance. 'As much as I know, this is not your problem-'

'Oh, but it's pretty much my problem also. I'm the one who buys you drinks whenever we go out. I throw money on you-'

'Now don't make me sound like a whore, man!'

They both giggled at the band leader's stupid remark.

'No, seriously-'

'Anyway, whatever'

Kristian sighed as Olve talked over him and closed the subject as soon as he approached it.

'Hey, I've been learning Ace of Spades lately! Do you wanna hear it?' The bassist asked, making himself comfortable on the floor, leaning onto the sofa with his instrument in his hands.

'How are you gonna sound like Lemmy, huh? You don't even know how to hold a pick right' The rhythm guitarist teased.

'Very funny, Kris. You should be a comedian' the other rolled his eyes. 'Just sit and watch' he smirked as he pointed with his chin the empty space beside him.

Exhaling tiredly, Kristian did as told, occupied a spot on his friend's right side. He followed Olve's playthrough with his eyes, surprised to see him maintain the time measures without a metronome. The sound wasn't exactly clear and it showed by how awkwardly he was holding the pick, but he could tell that the bassist was trying to impress him. If he wasn't so cynic, he would've cracked a smile by now.

'Anyway, this version doesn't have a solo and don't even start about the pull offs and how to bend on 19 to sound like 21. I'm still working on that-'

'It's good. You got it'

Chestnut brown eyes widened in wonder and skepticism as he heard those words. 'What did you say?'

Kristian hated giving compliments especially when he had nothing to win in return, but he swallowed his pride and said it again. 'It sounds good. You got this, loser'

A dumb, almost shy grin manifested on the bassist's face as he slid back into the main riff again.

Where did the malice go? Kristian will never know, but he found himself softening his sharp edges in the presence of his closest companion. 

On a twisted and selfish note, he enjoyed Harald's sudden departure, even if he didn't receive the starring role in the band. There were other ways in which he could become indispensable, filling the massive gap that the lead guitarist left in the Doom Occulta brotherhood, showing Olve that he had a confidant that he could always bet on right under his nose.

---

Around 7 o'clock they hopped inside the bus and started their usual journey to Bergen. Adidas shoes smeared with forest dirt from Lysekloster, navy blue jeans torn at the knees, band t-shirts thrown over long sleeve sweaters and dark bomber jackets were stirring up all kind of looks from other passengers and it was so easy to tell that people were silently judging from their privileged spot in the very back of the autobus.

Anticipation and inquiry were making the ride harder to tolerate now that he started thinking about what could Olve call a 'present'.

'So, what did you get me exactly?' Kristian wondered, looking halfway between amused and doubtful. 'You said to wait until tonight'

'Your gift, right! Damn, I completely forgot about it' the bassist panicked for a second, palming his pocket jeans frantically. 'Oh, wait, it's right here. All's good'

The rhythm guitarist frowned, bewildered, trying to figure out what on earth it could be since nothing was sticking out of his mate's pockets. 'You're full of shit'

The band leader just laughed loudly enough to disturb the elderly in front of them. 'Huh, see who's full of shit when I give you something you never had before' He didn't even realize how weird his last sentence sounded until he voiced it out, but by that time it was too late to take it back.

The way Kristian's eyebrows curved, faking being totally flattered, told the band leader that his miswording was safe, or so he thought.

'Better be worth it' the rhythm guitarist rolled the words on his tongue, getting more comfortable in his plastic seat, averting a slight moment of awkwardness.

—

Stillwet streets, slippery pavement and dozens of voices talking over one other, waiting to get past the gates of Hulen.

Olve whistled as he kept getting closer to the waiting line, earning the attention of some random metalheads and his peers who were at the end of the row.

'Oh, look who's here' Jørn gave off a shit eating grin as he, Truls, Tore and Jan turned to see the duo approaching them.

'Thought you'd already be inside by now' the bassist replied, clasping hands briefly with all of them as a salute.

'Hey, dude' Jan locked eyes with the band leader. 'How's it going? Found a job or something?'

'Ugh, not tonight, man' Olve groaned in protest for the things that he wanted to forget.

'Hi, Kris' Tore smiled lazily.

'Hey' the rhythm guitarist responded without much interest.

Within 20 minutes they eventually entered the pub. Raised body heat and a vast diversity of smells from pure alcohol to cheap cologne, sweat and well-aged leather hit their faces all at once.

Squished through young rockers, Kristian was following his friends to the bar when he heard someone shouting out the bassist's name. He turned around to see the band leader raise a hand and greet back some guy he didn't know.

'This place is packed, man. Let's try to get a drink before it starts'

Pissed that Olve ditched them without saying shit, he took Jan's suggestion and went to enjoy the night with his clique.

Two glasses of blonde beer thrown into an empty stomach was the same old story, the difference being the bitterness that he felt for having the bassist easily distracted by a no-name lad that miraculously happened to spot him in a sea of identical-looking metalheads.

As much as he loved the thrill of going to a concert, he detested how in a matter of time the only two rock pubs they had in town would turn into a concentration camp. Having people unintentionally and unknowingly touch him as they were diving in and out of the bar area was making him breathe fire through his nostrils but at least he enjoyed the occasional glares of envy for sitting on a stool when many lost their chances.

'Where the hell have you been?' Truls blurted drunkenly as soon as he saw Olve coming.

'Just saw a guy from school. The fucker was such a nerd, I wouldn’t expect to catch him here in a million years' the band leader explained. 'Ah, looks like you guys have already started to warm up without me. What a shame'

'Just shut up and get yourself a beer' Jørn encouraged, finishing up his own beverage.

'Will do, but I gotta take care of something first' the bassist darted a mischievous look at the rhythm guitarist. 'Come on, let's go'

'Wait, what-' Kristian asked abruptly.

'Aaah, so you kept it for this' Tore cut him off with a private realization. 'Tsk, tsk, tsk, sneaky bastard. You don't like sharing with your pals, do you?'

'We'll be back in a second' Olve didn't even bother to deny whatever the new lead guitarist was accusing him of. Instead, he grabbed Kristian by the bicep and dragged him into the crowd.

The rhythm guitarist tried to protest, questioning his bandmate where he was taking him until they entered the bathroom, found an empty stall and closed the door behind them.

'Are you fucking mental? What the fuck are you up to-' Kristian cut his own complaining off as soon as the bassist pulled a generous but crooked joint out of his pocket. Eyes shifted from the blunt to Olve's shit-eating grin to the blunt again. His mouth remained half-open until it smoothly curved into a devilish smirk.

'Happy Birthday, you angry bastard' The band leader wished, pleased to know his late gift got approved. 'I got this from Tore after helping him get rid of some stuff in his father's garage. He wanted to hit it as soon as we finished the cleaning but I told him that I wanna keep it for a special occasion. Thought you'd like to get high, or at least not be the only loser in the group who doesn't'

'Well, fuck yeah, of course I do' Kristian nodded eagerly, ignoring being called a loser for the sake of getting what he wanted since the New Year Eve.

'Theoretically it's all yours, but practically it's me who got you this so I have the legal rights for half of it' Olve shared his thoughts of fairness.

'Huh, you wish' the rhythm guitarist replied greedily and snatched the joint from his bandmate's hand.

He couldn't help but notice the musky and herbal fragrance first before putting it between his lips and pulling out his Zippo. Taking the first drag of cannabis in his life provoked a contraction in his lungs just like when trying the bassist's cowboy cigarettes. He coughed before he could fully process how it felt exactly.

The band leader chuckled, slipping a cocky 'I think you wouldn't mind sharing after all'.

Once his lungs calmed down, Kristian tried again despite the strange sensation of a tight ribcage.

'You have to hold it in as long as you can' the bassist explained, taking the fuming joint from the other and making a brief demonstration. 'Here'

The rhythm guitarist wished he had at least half of his comrade's lung capacity that came with chain-smoking since 12 years old, but regardless of his experience or rather lack of, he took it as a challenge.

For almost 10 minutes they stood in the dirty stall, passing the blunt back and forth, listening to heavy metal echoing through the bathroom and the muffled moans of a couple who were having a bit of fun before the show. The smell of weed was anything but subtle so occasional knocks into the plastic door followed by drunken pleas for ‘taking a hit' didn't fail to make Kristian jump in surprise. After all, they were having what others didn't at that moment.

Thought inertia caught both of the metalheads in their sweet moment of euphoria. There was no other feeling more extraordinary than the one of not giving a fuck in the would. Limbs turned relaxed, words that were to be forgotten in the next 5 seconds were exchanged together with idle giggles. Something snapped in Kristian's brain. A brand new chemical reaction had been produced, one potent enough to alter the consistency of reality for the rest of the night.

He blinked confusingly, hearing Olve calling his name from somewhere deep underwater. It was then when he glitched back in the present and realized that he was sitting on the floor with his back against the fake wall.

'Kris, are you alright?'

The band leader's expression was halfway between amused and truly concerned while his dilated pupils were transfixed on the rhythm guitarist.

Kristian nodded first, being sure that he replied at the same time, but in reality, there was a noticeable delay in his monosyllabic answer. 'Yeah'

'Are you sure? You're as fucking white as a ghost. Did it hit you that hard?' Olve poked fun at him but doubted for a second his greatest decision tonight.

'I'm good. What the fuck are you looking at?' The metalhead thought out loud, clumsily getting up on his legs.

'You're out, man. So fucking out of it' the bassist giggled lazily. 'Damn, we've been here for a while. Wait, do you hear this? They already fucking started!' he didn't give Kristian a chance to reply as he pushed the door open, grabbed his mate's upper arm and emerged. 'Let's fucking go!'

Out of the dimly lit restroom and right into a screaming flock, the losing game of trying to find their peers began. Pitch darkness befell before red reflectors shot out into the cave's vault, illuminating a mass of heads and raised hands. Smoke began to crop up from the scene as the powerful vibration of a single guitar rang out.

Formed barely a year ago, Dissection was on its way to become a name of interest in the underground scene. Known by few, pure curiosity and an excuse to go wild were the key elements of why many gathered to give them a chance. Jon Nödtveidt, a name meant to enter metal history later on, broke the iceberg of anticipation with his unreleased song, Black Horizons.

Headbanging on the track came naturally as they gave up already on trying to find the others. Music was blasting through the speakers while THC was running through their cerebrum, giving them the time of their life. The drug wasn't even a stimulant, but it surely made their heartbeats beat like they were on one after so much anticipation.

Everything felt ecstatic for Kristian, even if his ears were still plugged and he couldn't even comprehend when the songs were changing, but all of the rapid movement and the nearly nonexistent oxygen made him sick to the stomach.

'Everything fine?' Olve asked as he spotted the rhythm guitarist staying still as a statue before turning around and pushing through people without any explanation. 'Hey!' He yelled and followed after.

Puking his previous two glasses of Heineken was an incident that kept repeating itself whenever he was supposed to enjoy an event.

With little to no strength in his body, he was about to hit his head onto the hard porcelain of the toilet had the bassist not caught it in time when another wave of nausea struck.

'Jesus Christ, man..' the band leader mumbled, holding Kristian's head and hair as he was throwing up like a champion. He had no idea that weed could be so utterly devastating for his bandmate. 'How the hell are you so sick? This was supposed to be top quality product'

'I don't k-now' the other replied through cough fits.

Olve looked skeptical, thinking why he wasn't reacting like that until an ardent question hit him. 'Did you drink when you were at the bar?'

'W-hat? Yeah' the rhythm guitarist slurred weakly. 'F-uck that shit'

'Damn, you shouldn't have' the bassist replied frustrated. 'That's why you're sick right now'

And like any meaningful life lessons out there, Kristian had to learn this the hard way. It didn't even cross his mind that apparently he should've had cannabis first. To be wasted on alcohol and then smoke a fat joint was a recipe for disaster that no one had the minimum decency to tell him about.

Once he cleared his throat, he flushed the vomit away and pushed himself up onto his legs. Innocently assuming that the worst had passed, he made his unsteady way to the sink where he washed his face and tried to get rid of the rancid aftertaste.

'You look like a zombie' Olve dumbly remarked, earning a murderous look from his comrade.

'Your point?' Kristian demanded harshly.

'Do we go back now?' The bassist asked the obvious.

'Hell yeah' the rhythm guitarist replied with the obvious.

It was then when Kristian retained the golden rule. Weed and beer are on the clear, but if you drink then smoke you are totally fucked.

Needless to say, he was feeling even more inebriated and stoned by the time that he returned to see the band. Olve had to practically drag him into the third row of the crowd so they could pick up right where they had left. As the concert continued, the rhythm guitarist just dropped against his friend's chest like a dead weight, with his chin anchored on the bassist’s shoulder and watched the rest of the performance.

Chapter Text

Completely off-track, trapped into a vortex of discontinued thoughts and loud noises all around him, Kristian was hardly hanging on Olve with one hand around his neck like a human-sized accessory, shaking loosely while the bassist was madly headbanging to the song.

Caramel coloured hair was covering most of his face, hiding his identity when he couldn't even conceptualize that he had one outside his intrinsic nirvana, but he knew for certain that the way his friend was tossing his head back and forth was way too fast for his insecure grip.

'I fucking love this band' Kristian shouted in Olve's ear as he could barely hear his own slurred words, let alone concentrate on the music.

'You do?' The bassist asked amusingly and out of breath. Maybe getting stoned didn't have the best outcome but at least they were enjoying what they came for.

It was then when the band leader got a firm grip on Kristian's arm, fixing it over his nape so they both could start headbanging together.

Collectively crammed like sardines in a can, they were barely able to avoid those who were fighting in the mosh pit and falling on their asses through people's legs and spilling drinks.

Hot sweat was dripping down Olve's forehead as he and Kristian were giggling at the sight of rockers more wasted than them acting stupidly. He could feel the rhythm guitarist's heart beating out of his chest as he clung to him, making their damp shirts rub together. His own pulse was rising and he didn't know if it was because of the weed they just consumed or the incidental closeness. He couldn't even tell why he became suddenly aware of his own thoughts when a pair of wet lips brushed against his ear.

'That was fucking brutal' Kristian giggled as the last song ended, never for a second considering just how intrusively he was pushing himself in his mate's personal space.

'Glad to know you're still hanging there' the band leader joked, his hand slipping accidently on the rhythm guitarist's waist, too high to care. 'Just don't fucking puke on me or something'

'Olve!'

The bassist looked up to see Jørn's intoxicated grin.

'You like them clingy, don't you?' The metalhead asked, checking out the figure whose face was still obstructed by tangled hair. Even in the poorly lit room he knew it was the rhythm guitarist, but he loved pissing him off with denigrating comments.

'Damn, how did you know?' Was the band leader's sarcastic answer.

Kristian didn't register when he returned to the bar table. Fading in and out of corporeality at inconsistent intervals of time was leaving him confused in the spare moments in which he was able to distinguish his surroundings.

'What's wrong with him? What did you do?' Jan asked Olve directly after giving the rhythm guitarist 3 minutes to incoherently mumble about what happened.

'I didn't do shit!' The bassist was quick to deny. 'We smoked a bit, that's all. He's fine, maybe a bit dazed after his blackout in the bathroom but he's fine'

'He blacked out?' Tore snorted. 'Damn, man'

'Yeah, he'll survive' the band leader crossed his arms, hating to feel responsible.

'I'm fucking thirsty' Kristian rudely entered their discussion, grabbing Olve's beer ready to chug on it.

'Don't!' The bassist snatched the glass away. 'That's mine' he didn't know how to avoid making his pal worse without seeming weirdly caring in front of the rest of the group, so his only excuse was a typical selfish one. At least he emptied the booze before it could get to Kristian again.

'Here, brother. Skål!' Jørn passed the rhythm guitarist a shot of Tequila before having one himself.

Olve couldn't help but feel irritated for having a drunken idiot taking the piss on his new best friend while he couldn't say anything. He watched Kristian drown the hard liquor in one go knowing that he will regret that action pretty soon. He made a mental note not to get any more shit-faced than he already was. It wasn't as if he had to watch after the rhythm guitarist, but getting himself obnoxiously wasted in this context didn't sit right with him even if he didn't like restricting his booze intake either. The choice was tough.

Eventually, all it took Kristian was to end up with his head in the toilet for one more time to realize that his bravado was not only self-destructive but secondhand embarrassing also.

On a vigilant mind, he would flip the table at Jørn's gratis derision of his manhood but being too out of it, the most he did was chuckle and insult back. 

Everybody was laughing at the other's stupidity, throwing all kinds of blatant comments and silly jokes in the safety that they would forget about all of it the next day like it always happened until the time to close up came and those who remained until the very end had to leave.

It was Jan and Olve's benevolence that made them walk Kristian home because otherwise there would be no doubt that their reckless bandmate would've ended up right in a ditch. After that, they waited at the bus station until the first matinal ride to Lysekloster and respectively Os arrived.

---

All alone between four cold walls after he woke up in a gray afternoon, the bassist was dealing with his own hangover by lying in bed like a sick dog wishing he would have had painkillers.

The show was great not for the band itself only but because he savored every moment of it on a washed out brain. It felt so natural yet so foreign that every time he thought of the times in which he felt more alive than ever, a certain figure would pop up in his mental images. Softly hooded eyes could never fool him for their deeply analytical and critical intentions and he liked that. How weird was it weird enough to think about a comrade's physical appearance when bored? And how horrifying was experiencing goosebumps when having a comrade's lips accidentally touch his neck in the sweet absence of sobriety?

He didn't like where he was dwelling for many reasons but he couldn't simply erase that sensation from his memory. The hot breath against his skin, the alert tempo of his heart, the delayed giggles indicative of the fact that there is nobody home but the lights were on, the closeness, the impossibly inevitable closeness. Olve had a name for this amalgam of feelings, it was a clusterfuck.

His heart skipped a beat when he heard the front door open, then he remembered that he let it open for whenever Kristian would come by.

He already had little rituals and untold understandings between him and another person that he deemed the closest he's ever been, even when not long ago he lost his solemn best friend.

It must've been hours since he was lying on his belly with his arm hanging by the edge of the bed frame, stiff from having his circulation interrupted because his bedroom was covered in translucent shadows and the sun died down as soon as the rhythm guitarist stepped onto the cracking parquet.

'You lazy fuck'

The voice was tired and lifeless, having a groan of indignation at the end.

He didn't expect Kristian to come around so quickly, yet there he was, rubbing the lethargy off his orbs at the edge of Olve's bed, waiting for him to get up.

'What's the m-atter?' The bassist asked, clearing his throat mid-sentence, knowing that there was no logic in cutting short precious hours of sleep after getting so utterly fucked the night prior. 'Why are you here already?'

The answer was unpleasant judging by how the rhythm guitarist averted his eyes and frowned. 'Mother's boyfriend is at home'

'Oh..'

It was all that the band leader could utter.

---

Out again in the pouring rain, no convenience store was open during the weekend so their only option was the closest gas station.

A box of frozen macaroni, the last and the driest bread they found on the shelf, a can of tuna and a pack of biscuits were all bought from Kristian's cash.

Olve shoved in his pocket a blister of painkillers and a pack of gum right when the cashier was scanning the items. It wasn't the first nor the last time when he stole little things from lonesome corner shops, filling stations and alike just because it was easy.

Back indoors, they made the fire in the stove, changed from wet clothes to dry ones and filled their aching stomachs with carbohydrates in front of the TV.

It felt like they were housemates, two buddies sharing the same space living out of nothing but still living nevertheless. Their folks were already ghosts at this point, distant memories with blank faces buried by dust and time. With no stimulus other than toxic substances, depression was inevitably leading to mental atrophy.

It was moments like this in which Kristian could see Olve breaking out of his showman character, becoming the real person that he himself usually tried to stay away from.

Television wasn't doing anything in keeping them entertained, but that was all they could do after a crazy concert. The rhythm guitarist almost chuckled when he spotted through plastic trash and wrappers what seemed to be a newly-opened tobacco bag on the coffee table. How funny it was to have the bassist's priorities confirmed. Being short on food and fundamental supplies meant nothing as long as the band leader still had his fix.

Maybe that was the exact juncture in which the rhythm guitarist ran out of altruism and gave his bandmate a final tip.

'Olve'

'Mh?'

He didn't move to disturb the bassist who was leaning heavily against him with his chin nailed onto his shoulder like a sleepy housecat. The band leader turned his head slightly, showing that he was still awake.

Kristian didn't understand how they both felt fine sitting like this on the couch, but it didn't matter since he had to deliver his point.

'Get a fucking job'

The tone was placid but firm. It was something that unintentionally made Olve bit his tongue from any smart comment.

---

'A new rock bar opens this Friday on Hordaland 5015'

'What, for real?'

'Yeah, it's called Garage'

Jan gave Tore an intriguing look as soon as he heard the news.

Smoking on the drummer's porch after an intense round of Dungeon and Dragons, it was Kristian's idea to introduce his friends to board games.

Towards the end of February things were stagnant for everyone and finding out that there was hope for their little underground scene to extend was a charming surprise.

'Damn, that's fucking awesome' Jan blurted out excitedly. 'Maybe we can even play there in the future'

'Hope dies last, man' Tore lightly joked. 'So, are you guys up to check this place out on the weekend?'

'Sure, why not' Kristian shrugged indifferently, putting out his cigarette butt onto the wooden ground.

'Ugh, I don't wanna get hammered this weekend. I've fucking finally found a job and I'm starting on Monday' Olve groaned, slapping his own forehead in frustration.

'You did?' The rhythm guitarist's eyes widened like plates instantly.

'W-hat, what??' The drummer choked with smoke at the miraculous revelation, making the bassist roll his eyes.

'I've got a neighbor who works in port and he found me something to do. I won’t be officially hired since I'm not 18 yet, but he talked with his boss and they agreed to let me work undeclared' the band leader explained briefly. 'I'll have to wake up every morning at 4 o'clock, to get there at 5, sort and start delivering the fish to the local market'

'Are you fucking serious?' Kristian snorted, amused and in awe at what his ears were picking.

'If I wasn't serious I wouldn't fucking want to kill myself right now' Olve complained about his misery. 'You know that's one of the reasons why I gave up on school was because I had to wake up in the middle of the fucking night to get dressed, catch the bus and get there? Well, fuck me! It looks like this shit is inescapable!'

The others laughed, sympathizing with their unfortunate friend.

'Oh, man' Tore giggled. 'You do what you do, you still gotta be up early'

'I have no fucking choice. It's this or dying off on the streets' the band leader found his own realization visceral.

'Well done, dude. It was about time, you know? Me and Kris kind of invested in you lately' the drummer teased.

'Yeah, yeah. I'm your biggest capital investment, how else?' The bassist bit back sarcastically. ‘You guys want your money back, I get it’

It was a step in the right direction regardless if Olve liked it or not. One way or another, he had to push forward.

'So, should we leave this place for another time or..?' Jan's open question was cut short by the band leader's vigorous reply.

'Fuck no! It's a new rock bar! Nobody opens a rock bar out of the blue in this boring fucking city! We gotta see what's going on there'

Completely oblivious to the preexisting locals that they were frequenting, Olve had a valid point.

Later in the day after their bandmates left and the trouble-making duo remained alone again at the bus stop, waiting for his drive to Fana, Kristian chuckled, disturbing the tranquil silence.

'What?' An eccentric eyebrow was raised, matching that subtle side eye.

'I can't believe you took my words and really found a job' the rhythm guitarist's smirk didn't go undetected even in the dim lamp post light.

'Oh, looking for credit? I ain't giving you any' the bassist's grin mimicked his mate's perfectly, until Kristian's huffed.

'Anyway, today, my history teacher bragged about collecting WWII artefacts. I can't lie and say it didn't pick up my interest'

'Tsk, do you wanna break into some poor man's house to steal his Nazi shit?'

'Why not? He's a coffin-dodger anyway and he lives alone at the outskirts of town. We could do it tomorrow while he's at classes. Easy as that'

'Easy as that, but what if he calls the cops when he realizes somebody stole his stuff?'

'He kind of implied he’s got illegal daggers, guns and ammunition. If it’s true, I don't think he would snitch on himself'

'Are you willing to bet-'

'Are you coming or not?'

Navy blue met chestnut brown eyes for a second before the autobus arrived and the band leader's lips curved upwards as a final answer.

'See you tomorrow, then. I’ll call you in the morning'

It was the last thing that Kristian said before stepping inside as the thin double door of the vehicle automatically opened. He departed, the frame of the bassist still standing at the station with his hands in his pockets was shrinking in size with every meter he got further.

Returning after a long day of forgetting what he was avoiding was the hardest part. He would never imagine that winning absolute independence would come with an inequivalent downfall, but there he was, wishing he wasn't living a homeless life even when he had a home.

Olve got closer to him than everyone ever did despite being the most annoying individual he stumbled upon. How funny that the irony was lost on him.

Hitting the play button on his Walkman, he closed his eyes and erased his mind for the next hour to come.

---

'Are you sure it's this way?'

'Yeah, I found his address yesterday in Bergen's public records when I was at the library. It wasn’t too hard'

'Damn, why the fuck is it so easy to find someone?'

'Population control? Census? I don't know or care right now'

Emerging out of the dense forest and into a hilly clearing, they found a wooden fence and the house number that they were looking for.

It was a typical dark red, square and simple Scandinavian cabin. At a closer inspection it didn't look well-kept, but it didn't scream abandoned either. Stepping onto frail snow and crunchy leaves, the metalheads didn't even have time to walk around the property when a large dog, judging by its deep vocalization, snapped at them from the other side of the barrier.

'Shit, he's got a pet' Olve cursed. 'What do we do now?'

'The dog's tied' Kristian announced while peeking through vertical planks, scanning as much as he could his teacher's yard. 'Let's get in'

'Wait-'

With an ounce of reticence, the bassist jumped onto the other side right after his mate. Met with an angry canine that was barking and pulling at the chain tied to his thick neck, they prayed to Nordic gods it would not break while they were on that private patch of land.

Making their way to the front door, they found it locked just as they thought, so they turned to the window to try to get in.

'Damn it, the ground floor is too high. Can you lift me?' Kristian groaned after failing to reach the bottom rail.

'Yeah, sure' Olve shrugged.

'Uh, how do you want to-' the rhythm guitarist cut himself short as the band leader grabbed his thighs together and lifted him up on air.

Embarrassed enough to rely on somebody else’s strength, Kristian rushed to open the window and to crawl inside while the bassist's mind unconsciously paid attention to his fellow's thin build. And as if Olve didn't manage to make himself uncomfortable with his own self-awareness, he raised his eyes only to catch a full view on his bandmate's rear while climbing.

Spawned inside the bedroom, the rhythm guitarist wasted no time to unlock the front door.

'Come in' He gestured with his chin for the other to follow, missing the light blush on Olve's face.

Dust particles were floating into the air while the aroma of redwood and moist mold were leading them deeper into the cabin.

Cotton curtains once white now yellowed out were closed but not all the way so the shy morning light was catching edges of their hair and clothes. The linoleum was moaning under their footsteps as they began their adventurous exploration. The third chamber that they emerged into, turned out to be the lucky one.

'That's it' Kristian smiled mischievously, staring at the treasure that was neatly displayed on shelves and beyond glass cabinets.

A few unswept helmets belonging to German and Russian soldiers, a pair of cracked binoculars, rugged carrying bags and even more, but what made the rhythm guitarist's eyes glitter were the insignias, badges and silver pocket watches. Being a relic collector himself, he wanted to own everything but he knew he didn't have enough space and time to take that whole room of trophies to his bedroom so he had to select the most valuable items.

'Let's get these and these' he instructed his friend, pointing at the shelves while his eyes were hungrily scanning around for more. 'If we still have some space left, maybe we'll get some of these too'

'Alright' Olve replied smoothly before taking his friend's initiative by putting down his backpack, unzipping it and starting to gather decorative objects.

One by one, precious souvenirs were transferred from their place of safety into the tight compartments of the metalhead's rucksacks. No shame or remorse, only the triggered greed was present, dictating Kristian's behavior. Olve couldn't care less about taking anything or not, but he gladly offered to help his best friend if those iron crosses and SS daggers meant so much to him.

Turning the room upside down, searching for whatever extravagant they could find, the rhythm guitarist was pulling at a wooden drawer that didn't budge to open. He didn't give up at the bassist's lazy request to just 'fuck it', and move on until the furniture's doors broke open and out of it, a rusty rifle fell down.

'Damn' the band leader chuckled, amazed by what they found. 'Now that's sweet'

It wasn't any rifle, but a bolt-action, veritable Karabiner 98K, the most trusted gun used by the German soldiers during the Second World War. If either one of them had to guess what was hiding within that closet, this would never cross their minds in a million years.

Eyes met again, knowingly of what they were about to do before they both grabbed the fire weapon. Dreams of target shooting in the backwoods were instantly broken when they realized that there was nothing in it, no bullets on the barrel, just rust and dust.

'I can't believe it's empty' Kristian groaned, frustratedly, shoving clothes aside and looking for a box of rounds. The analogy was that if that fucker somehow managed to possess such historical beauty, he must've had a loaded clips or at least a few cartridges for it, but unfortunately there were none. 'I can't find anything' he sighed, defeated.

'Well, that's it. We're taking in anyway' Olve replied, still inspecting the gun, jokingly pointing it at his comrade. 'Just fucking look at this!'

'You look like a clown holding it the wrong way' the rhythm guitarist rolled his eyes.

'Are these your last words, Vikernes? You might wanna think twice before you speak to me now' the bassist replied playfully.

'Yeah, I thought twice before permitting you to come with me' Kristian deadpanned before pulling the barrel away from his chest and turning to leave.

'Now how do we fucking get this out of here without scaring the shit out of people and having the cops catch us?' The band leader asked, throwing his backpack over his shoulder, coming after his friend with the Kar89K in his hand.

'I've got an idea!' Kristian shouted from another room.

Dull white bed sheets were torn apart by the edge of a pocket knife, then wrapped meticulously around the rifle, making its shape look undefined and ambiguous. The size of it didn't come in handy, but at least no one could tell right away that they were about to transport a banned weapon in the bus back to Os.

'Check this out'

Blue eyes raised from their work of tying the sheets when a giggle and a Playboy magazine were thrown in his face.

'These are really old school' Olve grinned while paging, showing Kristian a sun-bleached poster of a nude woman with the year '61 written underneath.

'I'm in awe' the rhythm guitarist commented flatly, finishing covering the weapon.

'This one kinda looks like you, man' the bassist teased with a remark that was meant to stir a radical reaction.

'Fuck you' Kristian growled, persecuting with his glare.

'Oh, look! It has the same hair and eyes as you-'

'That's it'

Olve's mockery was abruptly cut when his bandmate came towards him, snatched the magazine from his hands, rolled it and hit him in the head. The band leader was snickering like a dumbass while backing off, hitting the back of the bed and falling onto the mattress. Just like any other time, the bonding scene was almost lighthearted until the rhythm guitarist started using his fists. They were both laughing while Olve was kicking with his leg, yelling 'Mi scusi' and Kristian was suffocating him with a pillow.

Finally, the rhythm guitarist pulled away, giving the band leader the mercy that he would occasionally give to a three-legged cockroach before stomping on it, but in this case he only cut with his words. It was his unorthodox way of showing affection.

'Huh, you're lucky that the gun is empty'

'You're the worst human being that walked this earth'

Out of breath yet cocky, their conclusions were the same all the time. Before abandoning the bedroom battlefield, the band leader grabbed one of the cassettes that he pulled out with the porno publications and shoved it in his pocket.

The bathroom didn't have anything interesting to offer, other than insulin shots and the cardiac medication. After that, the last place Kristian bothered inspecting was the kitchen.

Opening the fridge was an automatic action, one born out of being disappointed by its content or rather lack of content too much lately.

'What's in here?'

He froze when he heard the words vibrating in his ear. He hated every time the bassist would pop up like this, obnoxiously breaking the silence and crossing into his personal space, nearly giving him a heart attack.

'Oh, I didn't want to scare you' Olve replied, his chin resting on Kristian’s shoulder again.

The same banal excuse followed regularly, having fun each time he startled his friend. There was something special about catching that son of a bitch off guard.

'Piss off' The rhythm guitarist frowned, feeling awkward for how the bassist didn't bother to take any step back.

'Damn, this fridge is packed, man. How about we take lunch before we check out? He's got cooked food in here. I'm not leaving with an empty stomach' Olve kept rambling, lifting random lids off pots.

'Ugh, just be fast' Kristian breathed out tiredly, looking at the band leader who shamelessly put out a wok of mash potatoes and chicken.

10 minutes later, just before they were about to get out the door, the rhythm guitarist impulsively took a box of cornflakes with him.

'Here comes the desert' Olve grinned, taking a handful of cereal.

'I like these. Hands off' they rhythm guitarist threatened failing to be taken seriously.

'They're not as dull as I remember but they're salty, just like you' the bassist mocked winning another royal eye-roll from the other. ‘I want more’

With school packs full of stolen artefacts and an illicit weapon tidily folded in bedclothes, they jumped the fence back and returned to the same trail they came from, malevolent excitement shaping a new day ahead. 

Chapter Text

Pouring a fourth glass of beer and taking another drag of a savory cigarette was just how Olve would've liked to spend all of his days.

Living endlessly inside the night sun, bathed in the lowlight of the freshest rock pub in Bergen, throwing away the concept of tomorrow especially since the upcoming Monday will have its name forever changed into doomsday. When running from personal obligations became impossible, he indulged himself into a last boozed up night out with his faithful mates.

'So, ready to become a fisherman, are you?' Jørn giggled, eyes tired and almost just as inebriated as the one he asked. 'I've heard that all great musicians had to start somewhere'

'Yeah, guess I'll start with your mother in bed' the bassist bit back, making the other burst out into laughter and even the rhythm guitarist to snort.

'Don't be so bitter. If you can't catch a gig for your band, maybe you'll catch yourself a mermaid one day' Jørn continued teasing, rewarded by reactions.

'No need to, I've got myself the woman I need right here' Olve replied proudly, grabbing Kristian by his waist for a second, pulling him closer for the effect. 'Ow!' He released the rhythm guitarist when he felt an iron fist in his stomach.

'Looks like you've got more than you asked for' Jan joked without malice but still earned a hard glance from his target.

'At least you've got tonight, man' Tore slurred, tipsy but in high spirits. 'Skål!'

'Skål' Truls mumbled, clinking his bottle to his giggling mate's. 'For Captain Abbath!'

The band leader scoffed at his latest silly nickname and drowned what was left in the bottle in one go.

Kristian remained stiff and uncomfortable, forever annoyed for having his masculinity stepped on, unable to understand why this aspect had weirdly became Olve's entire joke arsenal in the last couple of days. The timing didn't make sense as the subject was unfortunately a bit of an obvious one that should have had expired within the first two weeks when he met the group, so why the mockery returned now? He hated any kind of remarks about his body, but he detested with a passion the comments about his unmanful characteristics.

He wasn't dexterous at balancing the good and the bad in his best friend. On one hand, he loved the attention that he was receiving, being the first line treatment for Olve's chaotic and covertly depressed life, but on the other hand, he wished the bassist would've taken the piss on anything but his bleeding insecurities. He knew he should've learned to stop caring already only if it was that simple.

Kristian liked Garage better than other locals not only because the concert department was wider than the one in Hulen, but the place itself oddly seemed more pleasant. The night club had potential to become a vibrant melting pot and meeting place for those who he shared the same music taste with. He would be lying if he said that the thought of getting a gig there didn't cross his mind, but maybe there was a time for everything and for certain it was, but waiting for his wishes to come true had never been his forte.

Happily intoxicated but not ready to break apart yet, they left the venue and went out to enjoy the rest of the night.

Stumbling on the same old town streets busy with lively people and owls alike, talking loudly and guffawing even louder at their usual nonsense was giving the rhythm guitarist that sense of belonging that he was searching for his whole life. It was nights like that he felt like living instead of simply existing to occupy a vacant space.

Nights of infinite negligence, nights of timeless remembrance.

---

Monday started the same with the alarm ringing, waking Kristian up from a sweet slumber that he fell into not even 4 hours ago when he returned home.

Severally deprived of sleep and mildly hungover, he exited the bathroom dressed in his casual blue jeans and a dark sweater.

The contrast between his and his mother's routine would, without fail, get a chuckle out of him. He would always take his time in the kitchen, eating soft waffles and pouring himself a cup of espresso while she was rushing to do her makeup in the hallway mirror, searching for a thousand trivial things that would disappear without a trace within the 5 minutes in which she was about to leave for work.

As soon as the door would be closed, not exactly in his mother's face but close enough, he would pull out his cigarette pack, light one up and feel like a king in his undeclared kingdom.

While relishing the caustic flavour of his still-negated dependency, his mind flew to Olve and his first workday. He made a mental note to pay his best friend a visit after school to get an idea of how the dreadful working class must feel like.

---

Getting down in Os, he took the shortcut that the bassist showed him to his house, finding the door open and welcoming himself inside.

He heard the sound of scorching oil before he sniffed a strong odor that made him frown in repugnance. The sound of the radio playing AC/DC and the winter chill coming out of the window greeted Kristian into the kitchen.

'What the fuck is smelling so badly?' the rhythm guitarist asked only to find out for himself.

'Ah, look who's here for dinner' Olve chuckled, flipping a burnt fish in the pan. 'Kidding of course, this is all mine' he pointed at his sizzling meal.

Kristian looked in disgust before giving the band leader a questionable face.

'Guess what, I won't have to worry about food anymore. I can take home all the scraps that won't sell. Sure, yeah, it's small fishes, some have two heads, some are missing them, but hey, free food is free food. I've already got two cods and a white mullet in the freezer and it's just my first day at the job' the bassist explained smugly, then picked up the open can of beer on the counter and poured a bit over his dinner. 'I've seen chefs do this on TV. It must be tasty, right?'

'Uh' A bushy eyebrow stood up all throughout his mate's ramblings, before he finally asked something. 'So, how was it?'

'Great!' Olve's eyes widened manically before they turned as bored as usual. 'It was shit'

The rhythm guitarist snorted, leaning on a wall, watching the other throw his fish into a semi clean plate and take a seat at the table. 'I thought so'

'Ugh, I can't fucking believe I'm doing this' the band leader groaned. 'I woke up at 4 fucking am, got in the port at 5 and started unloading boxes of fresh seafood right away. Have you ever been in a fucking room that's packed and I mean fucking packed with fish?' He asked dead serious before continuing anyway. 'I cleaned and sorted more damn fish than I ever ate in my entire life and I live in Bergen, man-'

'Around Bergen' Kristian corrected flatly.

'I'm not done' Olve squinted his eyes. 'After that, my neighbor drove me to every fucking restaurant in the city to deliver the catch, then we had to return and write records of all the shit that we've done, including species, quantities, locations, etc. Such an useless thing to do' out of breath, he sighed. 'Listen, I knew it was gonna be shit beforehand, but it really is. I don’t fucking know how I’ll get used to this, dude'

'Well, at least you've got food included now' the rhythm guitarist shrugged, almost sounding supportive.

'I swear, that's the only good thing about this!' Olve made it clear. 'Oh, and free booze. If you’re the youngest there, nobody gives a flying fuck about it but they all yell at you for not knowing what to do and getting in the way. I couldn't understand shit of what these old sailors were mumbling, but when I was on my break, they passed me their bottle and whatever moonshine they had there was the strongest drink I ever had' he chuckled to himself. 'I can't wait to taste it again tomorrow. One sip and it kept me warm for the whole day'

'You're not too shy about becoming a raging alcoholic, are you?' Kristian crossed his arms as he threw the question directly.

'A raging alcoholic for drinking not to freeze my balls off in February in the fucking port? Piss off' the bassist giggled with his mouth full of fish. 'Anyway, you know what else sucks?'

'I honestly don't care at this point' the other blurted out, eventually taking a seat beside his friend.

'The stench sticks to your skin and hair' Olve kept talking. 'You might not believe it and I don't blame you for that, but I took a shower when I got home. Everyone used to bitch about my sweaty shirts but they smell like fucking roses compared to this reek'

Taking a better glance at the band leader, Kristian huffed, indeed in awe for how fluffy his bandmate's hair presented. Never before he noticed the slight waves of his best friend's locks, nor the generous volume that his mane had. 

'You keep staring' Olve pointed out smiling like a reptile. 'Do you wanna touch it?'

'What? No!' Kristian protested, embarrassed. 'Fuck off!'

'Awh, I just wanted you to give it a note!' The bassist insisted, leaning over the table slightly. ‘My aunt bought me a new shampoo three months ago’

'Ask your fucking aunt to rate your stupid hair' the rhythm guitarist backed away.

'You're jealous, mine's softer than yours. It's alright, you don't have to get mad, Kris-'

'I'm not fucking jealous. You're being fucking weird and annoying'

'You know that envy will make your hair fall out, do you?'

'You know I fucking regret every time I come over?'

'Bullshit!'

The bassist called out in triumph, throwing the empty plate over the mountain of dishes in the sink and exited the room with the rhythm guitarist following behind like a grumpy house cat.

'What are you up to now?' Kristian asked, or rather demanded boringly.

'Honestly? I could use a fiesta but I won't let you unsupervised in my house even for 5 minutes' Olve gave him a not-so-subtle side eye.

'Are you scared that I might burn it down with you sleeping?' The rhythm guitarist couldn't help but tease.

'You wish!' the band leader blurted out before changing his tone. 'Well, maybe yeah, but just a little'

'Anyway, I've been working on some new riffs, not for the band but for myself' Kristian let him know going straight to the main room where he knew he left his guitar last time.

'Damn, glad to know Count Grishnackh is done thinking about jumping off buildings and back on track with new stuff' the bassist grinned, watching his bandmate get comfortable at the edge of the couch with his instrument in hands.

'Piss off already, I wouldn't have jumped anyway' Kristian growled, hating to know that his moment of weakness was still present in the other's memory.

'That's because I wouldn't have let you jump anyway' Olve replied abruptly, his voice holding too much meaning for a simple remark.

It unintentionally intimidated the rhythm guitarist right before his pick was about to hit the strings but he showed indifference.

'I came up with this during math class today. It's called War'

'What else would you call it?'

'Just shut the fuck up'

They both snorted at how deliberately annoying the bassist was being.

'Alright, fine. Go ahead' Olve giggled, giving his friend a pass.

Treasuring his privacy to the extreme, Kristian would almost never expose anyone to anything that might mean importance to him. His reasons extended beyond the fear of a possible act of plagiarism from his fellows, reaching realms of unexplored mental intimacy. When words were futile in expressing emotions, music would come naturally as a salvation. It was the key to the gate of his wicked heart.

'Nice rhythm. This one would sound fucking awesome on bass'

Distracted by a deep voice nearby his ear, Kristian hit more strings that he should have on his last power chord, ruining his own outro. He didn't even notice when Olve got so close to him.

'I thought about playing it in standard but I forgot that my guitar was tuned in C' the rhythm guitarist awkwardly explained, trying to focus on his words instead of their accidental closeness again.

'Sounds great like this too' the band leader replied smoothly, oblivious as ever.

'Tsk, you think so?' The rhythm guitarist made the mistake to tear his orbs away from the fretboard and meet his friend's lingering ones.

He couldn't read Olve's expression. It felt like he was searching for something in him while their eyes were still locked and their bodies fossilized in place. Kristian didn't know what it was that animated his pulse so spontaneously and made his face catch fire while he stood glued to the spot.

'Yeah, I think it's great' the bassist murmured, his stare deliberately swishing from blue pools to plump lips for a second and back.

The rhythm guitarist's heart pinched him as he heard the telephone ringing sharply in the anticipating silence, breaking their trance entirely. He blinked, confused about what he thought it was about to happen had Olve not groaned in irritation, got up and went to pick up the receiver.

What the fuck was that?

He swallowed the knot in his throat, still feeling his muscle throbbing in his chest. He barely realized that he was burning from the neck up when the bassist returned looking like it was all in his head.

'It's Padden. Him, Tore and Jørn are downtown. Let's hit the bar again'

There was no solemn commitment to stay sober for more than a few days and this would be the second time the bassist drank within 24 hours, but on a greater scheme, this would make the third time in 48 hours.

Frustration was creeping inside Kristian for no motive, yet he swallowed the reproach on his tongue before he could voice it and went to grab his shoes.

---

Closeness was like a double-edge sword. In one way it had the potential to sooth something restless, misunderstood and unaddressed deep inside his core, and on the other, it was a pre-established, well defined threat. Closeness was more than just a figurative construct, it was a tangible format that could be felt through the fabric of his clothes while Kristian was sitting on the back of the bus, his right knee involuntarily touching Olve's. He never paid attention to such insignificant details, they came to him, overwhelming his senses, making him question all kinds of shameful things about himself. Things written in his generic code that he thought he would never doubt for a second, but now he did.

The faint smell of mint shampoo was tickling his nostrils even with the band leader's beanie pulled down on his head. Their fingers touched when he pulled out three cigarettes from his pack, providing his best friend with indispensable nicotine when he ran out of his rolled smokes.

All of this used to mean nothing until barely one hour ago. Now unasked-for intimacy was plaguing his every thought.

---

They didn't hit the bar how the band leader confidently forecasted, in fact their bandmates had different plans for the evening.

There were a few things that didn't sit right with Kristian aside from his best mate's growing love for liquor and Jørn's uninspired and painfully predictable attempts at humor. One night out could feel great while the next one could feel like the worst decision to go out even when theoretically everything stood the same. How was that possible was no mystery at all. There was one tangent that explained everything.

Whenever Jørn would randomly bring his peers to hang out with them nothing good would come out of it. It was a general rule and tonight was no exception.

Gathered around a small bonfire somewhere on a large hill with bags of last-minute-bought snacks, a few smokes and cheap booze, nine reckless teenagers were having a bit of fun on the first day of the week just to break their insufferable daily routine.

To say the rhythm guitarist felt like an outcast would be a massive understatement. Not knowing any of those noisy fuckers and not wanting to know them anyway, his animosity and anxiety levers were increasing with every cigarette he was chain smoking alone next to the roaring flames and the roasting marshmallows.

He could see his bandmates more or less enjoying the evening. Tore was drunk or high or both, without a single care in the world for coming home wasted since he was the lucky bastard with hippie parents. Jan was chatting with a girl, sipping on a can of Cola. He wasn't stupid enough to get close to the alcohol since he was their nominated driver for tonight while, on another note, Olve had no problem chugging on a 2 liter bottle of beer like it was sparkling water, telling Jørn's insufferable acquaintances the story of how he stole a bunch of cool Nazi decorations and a kick-ass gun from a cabin in the woods not even 3 days ago.

'Yeah, dude, of course, and I have a fucking Panzer V under my bed at home' Jørn mocked, making the other laugh at the exaggerated tale. 'That's all you're talking about lately. You really want us to believe it, don't you?'

'But it's fucking true, you dumbass!' The bassist typically insisted. 'I've got a Karabiner in my bedroom! Ugh, Kris!' he locked eyes with his partner in crime, motioning with his hand to come to him.

The rhythm guitarist frowned at how easily the band leader divulged something he promised to keep a secret for their own safety just to brag about it to a flock of idiots.

'Tell him about the rifle' Olve ordered lazily, convinced that he's got a backup for his words.

'What rifle?' Kristian asked in total indifference.

'Wait, what? What do you mean by what rifle??' The bassist's jaw dropped in disbelief.

'I was sure!' Jørn burst out into laughter, glad he caught his friend in a pompous lie.

'Wait, but-' The band leader groaned, frustrated. 'Why?' He turned to his confidant, deflated by the blatant betrayal.

'Because you're stupid' Kristian let him know as a matter of fact.

It was a rare moment in which he was able to turn down the opportunity to brag about one of, if not, the coolest escapades he had in a while. It was one thing telling his bandmates about his shenanigans, knowing that no one would snitch on him to the cops the very next day, and it was another thing to blindly trust a filthy opportunist like the bassist from Amputation.

'How is it that it's always you two doing all of this crazy shit together?' A drunken grin grew on Jørn's lips. It was an expression that Kristian wanted to rip off his face. 'Are we too boring to hang out with or did you finally give it a shot?'

'Oooh, dude' Tore interjected, catching the naughty meaning of those words before the others.

'What do you mean by that?' Olve asked confused until it finally hit him. 'Oh, right!'

The rhythm guitarist was about to give the jerk a piece of mind when he felt a hand being thrown over his shoulders and his heart skipped a beat.

'Yeah, man. We're legally married. We're husband and wife now' Olve obviously joked, earning even more snickers from the background.

'Fuck off' Kristian growled, harshly pulling that hand off him.

'Oh, congratulations!' Jørn replied with enthusiasm. 'Why did you keep it a secret? It's not like we'd steal your woman, dude. We're serious guys, not homewreakers'

'Don't you even try!' The band leader threatened, slipping his hand around his prisoner's waist for the desired effect.

Kristian gasped, saturated in shame but blessed that the blaze was hiding his rosy cheeks. Even so, he couldn't help but feel exposed.

'You guys, this is getting fucking wild' Jan stated, secondhand embarrassed while the girl beside him was giggling at the two metalheads in the spotlight.

The situation wasn't quite new, only the context deferred. It was Jørn's roasting show and Olve was trying to steal it, to turn the mockery around by owning it and playing along smoothly. His tactic was all that Kristian despised at that moment.

The hysteria died down as the culmination passed and everybody jumped to other subjects to dissect and poke fun at.

Somewhere around 1 am, they decided to call it a day. Jan discreetly managed to kiss his indecisive crush in the darkness, all while Tore was hurrying to eat the last remaining marshmallows from the sticks and Olve was putting out the fire by pissing like a horse on it.

Kristian was waiting for the late-night chaos to end so he could get in the vehicle and leave when he heard an obnoxious voice singing like a drowned out pirate.

'You're Jailbait, and I just can't wait! Jailbait baby, come on!'

He sighed loudly, crossing his arms so he didn't have to punch the bassist who approached him, staggering in the process.

'Chill out' Jan advised, rolling his eyes before he went to start the engine.

'Easy for you! It's not my fucking fault that he looks like a chick from behind!' The bassist blurted out, shamelessly grabbing Kristian's ass through his jeans. 'Damn, he even feels like one'

‘Get your fucking hands off me, you piece of shit!’ the rhythm guitarist snapped back, punching his mate in the gut like he was a boxsack. It was well deserved but it didn’t make up for the public mortification. 

Moaning in pain but still giggling like the dumbass that he was, Olve fell on his knees. ‘Shit, I’m gonna fucking puke’

Even drunk as a skunk Olve realized that silly act was over once his best mate turned to him with the most blood-chilling criminal glance he ever saw. Suddenly, it didn't matter that Tore was choking on his spit from laughter or that Jørn and his mates were guffawing and howling like chimpanzees at his show. The tiny amount of neurons left in his brain that he hasn't killed with alcohol yet were signaling back to him the crystal clear message that he went too far.

Involuntarily, he bit his lips at his grave mistake while Kristian was skinning him alive and cutting him into pieces in his mind. If he could've opened his mouth, he would've apologized, but he himself remained absolutely speechless at his unhinged charade.

Fuck.

Defenseless, he ran to Jan's car, calling 'Shotgun!' first. There was no way that he was sharing the backseat with the rhythm guitarist after what he's done. He knew his best friend was keeping a hunting knife on him from time to time and he didn't want to find out if tonight was his unlucky night or not.

The cocktail of emotions that Kristian found himself into was by far the most potent weapon of destruction for tonight. The utter humiliation, braided with hot anger and straight out shock was making him feel like a ticking bomb when he got in the back and forcefully shut the door.

He didn't have to imagine Olve's terrified expression and reddened face when he had the bright moonlight and the side view mirror available.

'Ready in the back?' The drummer asked with a raised eyebrow.

'Yeah, step on it' the lead guitarist replied from the backseat while Kristian stood silent.

And just like that, Jan turned the steering wheel and drove away into the night.

They didn't see Jørn's car back on the road but that was just expected because he was known to be an incautious driver and car racer, fucking off faster than the speed of light thanks to his benzine motor.

Still boiling but at a lower temperature, Kristian was genuinely pleased that the others were gone, although the shame of being targeted stained profoundly.

Music and chatter didn't light up the atmosphere with him and the band leader staying mute for the ride back to town. Olve must've passed out in the passenger seat, too bashed and tired from work to resist shutting down. The tornado that's been set off inside the rhythm guitarist was too dense and intense to try to make sense of it all. Too many things happened in such an absurdly short amount of time and none of them were good.

He was the first to get home, turning on the light on the hallway and walking on his toes to his bedroom so he wouldn't disturb his dear mother from her sleep. The last thing that he needed was to be lectured about coming late.

The fact that he didn't have any drop of beer for the whole night made him wonder just why he held back but he knew why. Being executed by cretins was an evident reason, but doubting how normal he would act drunk around his best friend after he could swear that he was about to be kissed back in Os was a covert and even more unnerving one.

What the hell is up with you?

It was a question that he would kill to know the bassist's answer to because left in the dark, his mind would wander in more places that it should've, it would start a methodical procedure of self revision that he wasn't prepared for.

Absent-mindedly, he placed a hand over his heart, failing to understand why he felt like running at almost 2 o'clock in the morning. His pulse didn't calm down since the little incident at Olve's house. It wasn't normal and he was aware of that.

Something wasn't right.

He quickly changed into comfortable clothes and went to bed entertaining scandalous thoughts that were keeping him awake despite his tiredness. Eventually he fell asleep allowing dreams of infinite nothingness to take care of him until the break of dawn. 

Chapter Text

Intrusive thoughts and feelings of unease followed him the next day at school and at home again.

Stepping out of the shower, Kristian stopped in front of the reflecting glass.

Examining the mirror, for once he didn't feel like spitting or shattering it into pieces. Maybe all of those unhinged insinuations produced a countereffect of some sort, forcing his mind to cast illusions to make him feel better about himself, or maybe he was indeed slowly changing.

It's been a few days since he noticed frail and weak baby hairs above his mouth. At first, he didn't believe his eyes but shortly after, he realized that the hair was unhurriedly growing into one of those ugly, virgin moustaches. Therefore, without a second thought, he took a razor and shaved off the one thing that he waited so long for because Odin forbid he allowed himself to have elongated and spaced out whiskers coming over his lips like Harald did.

Once done, he washed his face with cold water and kept glancing, displeased that he still looked like a thirteen year old from almost every angle.

The repeated remarks that he has been exposed to took a toll on him, pressuring him to detest his appearance even more if that was even possible at this point. He knew his body was developing, he knew he developed a lot even compared to a few months ago, but most times he would lose contact with reality, getting absorbed in extraordinary expectations just because he was always comparing himself with others. And it wasn't like the others were so astronomically different from him, but he could only see what he lacked in everyone else.

It was like he had the basic notion that there was nothing wrong with him physically, but he couldn't convince his brain to believe it and that's where the real struggle began.

Emerging out, clean and dry he stopped mid step when he heard the phone ringing. He didn't wonder for a second who it might be, knowing too well the sorry dog that was now casually looking for forgiveness, so he didn't think twice as he went into his bedroom, slammed the door and put his death metal records on.

He wished he had his guitar in reach, regretting the fact that he left it in Os believing that it was more convenient to have it there all of the time. It would've been great to have something to do, to get rid of his bottled up frustration in productive ways because being home alone while lying in bed would only amplify his morbid curiosity of self-destruction and one day, he would find a way to materialize his violent urges.

Halfway through Scream Bloody Gore by Death, he got up, opened the windows and lit himself a cigarette.

The icy air and the acerbic taste of burnt tobacco were more consoling than the warmness of his domicile. He didn't mind the goosebumps as the harsh wind was cutting into his exposed arms and dry cheeks, if anything, the sensation was welcoming when there was nothing else to feel.

Just when he thought that the one who was bothering him finally got the message, he returned with another insistent call.

Irked for allowing the fucker to take space in his mind, he went to pick up and get rid of the stressor.

'What?' Kristian demanded, counting seconds of lost patience until ending the call.

'Hey, uh, do you wanna come over?' Olve mumbled, more reticent and awkwardly than the rhythm guitarist would've imagined.

'No, I've got better stuff to do' he lied just to rub his snobbish reply in the bassist's face. He wanted to hear the begging. It was time for the pay back.

'Ah, alright. It's just.. I, uh.. anyway. Have fun'

He simply hung up without saying anything. It was just what the band leader deserved after making him the laughing stack, but the almost anxious tone was what caught Kristian unprepared. He didn't want to give him a chance, not when he did the worst that he could do, not when he got down to the level of those brainless primates who were picking on him at school.

He thought he wouldn’t be a vulture, picking on what was left of his poor self-esteem and it hurt to be dead wrong.

So, what was the point?

Why did he foolishly fall for the bassist's call? There was no theatrical plea and no tasteless comedy, he didn't even insist when Kristian told him straightforwardly that he would rather occupy his precious time differently without any extended explanation.

Being harsh with other's weaknesses was the most delicious treatment the rhythm guitarist could provide himself with. Stomping on people's sentiments whenever he had the power to do so wasn't something that he's been born with, but a product of experiencing firsthand shockingly disempathetic treatments from the world. But if he loved to hurt back so much, then there would be no chance that he would actually take an unannounced ride to pay a visit to his beatdown friend. Therefore, he must have a heart.

The curiosity of what Olve had to say but held back on the phone was what made him go and find out for himself.

It must be his heart's fault for putting an abrupt end to his cruelty. It must've been the fact that someone meant more than he would've admitted when he didn't let him jump off that building.

All in all, it was too late to turn around now.

---

Exhausted beyond belief after the second day working in one of the most godawful places in town, still hungover for night after night after night of drinking, the band leader's only wish was to finally pass out on the couch and put an end to his newest hardship. Eyes were about to shut at any given moment but his thoughts would keep him awake and responsible for the latest events. He forgot about most of the bonfire incident except for publicly humiliating his best friend. Those eyes infuriated by perfidious betrayal were burnt into his memory despite the ridiculous amounts for alcohol that he consumed.

He never felt so much like wanting to crawl beneath the earth and to remain there until the hurricane would pass, whenever it would pass.

The guilt was running deep, including those dubious times in which he would find himself thinking about the rhythm guitarist in deviant ways. The plump lips, the glances and the little touches were some kind of perverted torture that he was dominated by. The most hilarious thing was that all it took was a bit of weed for this whole circus of unwanted attraction to begin. All it took was an ounce of physical contact to pull him like a magnet towards Kristian, or at least that's just how much he thought it took.

There was yet no explanation for his sudden urge to kiss him. Had not Jan's call interrupted them, he might have just done it and he wouldn't have known what to do or say after. He felt grateful that it didn't happen or he might have lost more than a few teeth and dignity that day.

There must’ve been something in that weed from Sweden.

Desperately wanting to make it up had never been a priority in any of his friendships. He couldn't believe that he debated for hours if he should make that call or not and what he should say or shouldn't. If one thing was certain, it was that the rhythm guitarist could and would drop anyone who wronged him with no regrets or second thoughts at any given time and that thought alone was wreaking havoc inside Olve's head.

Firm knocks on the front door broke the hopeless trail of thoughts, making him wonder if people from the local church kids haven't got bored of asking for money in the wrong place, but when he opened, the face he encountered blocked him right away.

'Hei' Kristian flatly saluted, walking himself in.

'Hey, uh, what's up? I thought you're busy' Olve mumbled, caught off guard by his unpredicted visitor. 'Why are you here?' He felt so stupid for asking that question so much.

The rhythm guitarist grimaced something akin to wondering himself the same thing before he answered. 'I don't know really'

'Sorry for last night'

Deep blue eyes looked up the moment he heard the words voiced out. He didn't meet the bassist's orbs though, too occupied to have them fixed to the dirty floor.

'Look, I know I'm stupid and I say a lot of dumb shit to make people laugh and uh..' He briefly gestured with his hand, trying to continue his stuck sentence. '.. but I don't mean it. I didn't mean anything that I said about how you look and stuff. Yeah, I'm an idiot, I know'

'You're a fucking retard' Kristian bit back, meaning it.

The band leader chuckled, amused, finally looking into his best friend's eyes. 'Well, at least I know we're both on the same track' he shrugged.

The rhythm guitarist's harsh stare softened involuntarily. His own expectations were far from an honest apology. He knew the bassist's pride would keep him far away from feeling shame even when he was obviously to blame. He didn't even pardon Harald after their fallout and there he was acknowledging his own fault as they were speaking.

The accident must've corroded him, just like it corroded Kristian. The infinite might that the rhythm guitarist felt in that moment was surreal.

'I won't joke about this anymore. You look normal' Olve added, pressured by funeral silence and a semi sharp glare. 'Are we good now?'

There was hope laced to his last question as Kristian slowly nodded, before verbally agreeing. 'Yeah, whatever'

How can you define normality? He found himself wondering, the assurance only making him feel much further from the truth.

He sighed, passing by the band leader and taking a seat on the couch. 'I fucking hate Jørn' it wasn't even a confession, it was a well-know fact for his best friend.

'Yeah, he's being a jerk sometimes. That's how he's always been' the bassist occupied the space beside the other, mindful to allow some distance between them.

'And you're still hanging out with him?' The rhythm guitarist asked in a superior tone.

'He looks for me. I never look for him really' Olve admitted, turning on the TV in search of something to watch. 'He also pissed me off with something' he refrained from telling Kristian how annoying it was that their so-called friend pushed him to drink when he was so utterly baked at the Dissection concert.

'With what?' Curiosity got the best of the rhythm guitarist.

'Nothing important' the bassist brushed him off. 'Do you wanna watch Society again?'

'Sure' Kristian shrugged, indifferent to whatever Olve wanted to watch.

He just longed to return to their own definition of status quo already, crossing his ego for once in his life and forgetting his comrade's mistake.

The bassist must've got the impression right because the dense aura of hostility and hard feelings floating above his bandmate’s head dissipated into the air and the next question only confirmed that they moved on.

'How was your day?'

'Fucking shit'

'Lots of work?'

'That and the hangover. My head is spinning. I thought I was about to pass out from exhaustion but, oh well'

'Ah, thought you enjoyed the beer last night'

'Ugh, fuck that shit. If I smell beer once again during this week, I'll fucking puke, man'

The rhythm guitarist couldn't help but giggle. Olve never noticed just how phonetically pleasant was his best mate's voice when it lacked its daily dose of sarcasm. The tonality was warm and placid, it showed a side of Kristian that wasn't available for the vast majority. He felt favored.

It didn't take long until the band leader fell asleep with his arms crossed on his chest and head leaning on the armrest.

The rhythm guitarist didn't like staring at people but he couldn't take his eyes off his bandmate. Too many thoughts were arguing inside his head, all about Olve. Maybe there was something more than pity and occasional compassion going on inside him. He grabbed the woolen blanket from the corner and put it over the bassist's middle, then continued to watch the flick in silence.

---

Thick humidity was sticking to their long manes, facilitating the cold to harden stray strings.

It's been two days since their open discussion and everything seemed to turn back to how it once was.

'Why does it take so long?'

'It's a slow burn. Just give it a minute or two-'

A loud booming noise went off into a parking lot, triggering a few car alarms and a faint scream in the distance, interrupting Olve's words.

'That's it!' The bassist whisper-screamed, moving carefully beyond vehicles not to be seen by anyone. 'Go, go, go!'

Kristian broke into a sprint when he saw the bassist do the same, getting out of the area as soon as possible.

When the band leader mentioned that he kept a few firecrackers after the New Year's Eve, he didn't think he would have so many, but there they were, terrorizing people in plain daylight, enjoying every bit of it.

'Let's go downtown and have some fun there' the bassist suggested with a wide grin on his face. His cheeks rosy from running and his vaporous breath visible in the crispy atmosphere.

Kristian followed with a meaningful smile and a taste for troubles.

Hiding behind dumpsters or buildings, they began playing a game in which the one who throws a crack into the riskiest, most populated spot and gets away with it wins.

Local parks and terraces and random balconies were exactly what they were looking for. And just like this they managed to entertain themselves until the early hour of twilight, fooling pedestrians with the sound of gunshots, endangering the innocent for a few giggles and seconds of invincibility.

The pale Friday sun was finally able to break away from the foamy sea of clouds, weakly shining over the brightly coloured, narrow buildings, urging the breeze to lose intensity for a little while.

Unbothered, he pulled his light brown hair behind his ear so it wouldn't distract him when rolling up smokes. Using his thumb, Olve was pushing the paper against the tobacco easily and precisely. Sitting next to him on the platform of a ferry station, Kristian was duly gazing at the sluggish waves.

'You argue with yourself so loudly, take a damn break' the bassist cracked a joke, not even looking up from his meticulous work. 'I can hear your brain yelling from here'

'Yeah? And what does it say?' The rhythm guitarist asked rhetorically, too bored to differ.

'Oh, I can't believe I met Abbath before he got famous!' the band leader responded in a theatrical manner. 'I should ask him for an autograph or a picture'

'The only place you're going to get famous will be your own bedroom or in the best case a rehabilitation center'

'Why you gotta be such a grim bastard all of the time?'

'Because life's miserable either way'

'Rehab's for sore losers. Real men die doing what they love the most'

'Huh, how sad that you don’t have money for drugs'

Olve couldn't help but chuckle at the other's comeback. Maybe there was an ounce of truth in there after all, but it certainly wasn't for him.

'Is your mom serious with that guy?'

'What?'

Kristian frowned at the unanticipated question.

'Why the hell are you asking me this?' He nervously giggled, sounding more passive-aggressive than nonchalant. The band leader was being intrusive and there was no nice way to say that his personal life was none of his business.

'You've been different since January' Olve let him know succinctly. 'It's when they hooked up, right?'

'Different?' The rhythm guitarist chuckled.

'Yeah, you got even more moody and..' depressed was the right word, but he intentionally omitted it so as not to open up a can of worms. '..nevermind. Let's go finish what we started'

In the end, he gave up whatever he was trying to communicate, not wanting to ruin the mood.

He couldn't understand why he began to worry now about the rhythm guitarist's mental instability. It could be that he never got over Kristian's most revengeful gesture. Great loss was something that he had to deal with before and even to this day he was barely managing both the physical and the emotional loss of the dearest person for him. Having a second loss would be ultimately unbearable.

Every now and then the bassist would find himself thinking about that day and just how close he was to losing someone that meant so much to him.

---

Peeking around an apartment complex into a small street, there was a policeman having a smoke break with his back turned to them in complete unawareness.

'Don't do this' Kristian suggested, half laughing, half meaning his words. 'Don't be stupid'

'I fucking hate these steel-toed dogs' Olve mumbled, lighting up a last bullet cracker before throwing it at the cop's feet.

They gazed in high anticipation at the exact moment in which it exploded making the man jump and curse loudly in shock. Olve burst out into laughter, catching the most unwanted attention that he would've thought of.

From his angle he couldn't see that there were two more bewildered officers that locked eyes with the two delinquents.

'Shit' the bassist gasped, catching a strong grip on Kristian's bicep. 'Run'

It was all that he mustered while turning around in the blink of an eye and fleeing from the scene. The rhythm guitarist instinctively came after, hearing the men shout while chasing them.

They knew they couldn't look behind and risk bumping into obstacles, so they rushed through people to enter the nearest building to get lost.

Kløverhuset Shopping Center was hoped to be their lucky card with dozens of people walking in every direction all at once. It was a great getaway, or so they thought, running up on escalators, pushing with their elbows to make room, fearfully glimpsing at the policemen that were catching up with them rapidly. The fun had entirely shattered since the rush of adrenaline kicked in, fueling them with abrupt energy and agile decisions.

'Here!' Olve shouted, taking a sharp turn through the crowd. 'Hurry up!'

'They're coming!' Kristian announced, terrified by the thought of being caught.

As the corridor cleared, he finally spotted the sign for 'Emergency Exit', but instead of going down the staircase, his best friend was galloping up.

'What the fuck? We have to get out of here! The rhythm guitarist stopped in his tracks, impatient and confused.

'And what if there are more down?? We're gonna be fucking screwed!' Olve yelled back, nervous for all the time that they were wasting staying still. 'Come on!'

Pressured to the point of having his stubbornness erased, Kristian gave in and came along, jumping stairs and ascending through levels faster than a hare.

Looking back, there was no one on their trail, no one using that old flight of steps to go anywhere at that moment, nothing but the echo of their snickers on hard concrete and their breaths out of sync until they finally reached an end. Forcing himself into a rusty bolt, the band leader opened the door to the roof, emerging into precious open space.

Kristian inhaled deeply, feeling his heart beating into his ears, then suddenly snapped. 'Why the hell did you do that?!'

'Huh??' Olve shifted puzzlingly at the metalhead's reaction. 'I thought it was just one of them, I swear!'

'Of course' Kristian rolled his eyes, pissed as ever.

'Well, it looks like I was right after all' The band leader added as he got closer to the edge, noticing one police car parked right in front of the mall's main entrance.

'Great, now what do we do?' The rhythm guitarist demanded to know.

'What do you think we're gonna do?' Olve asked sarcastically. 'We stay here until they leave or until this place closes'

'I don't think they will leave any time soon'

'Better get comfortable. I'd rather spend the night here than be arrested'

Kristian groaned in despair, knowing that there was no way in which they would survive an arctic night on a dilapidated roof.

'Relax, we're probably safe here' the bassist tried to emphasize. 'Look, even the sun came out. Luck’s always on our side'

The rhythm guitarist sighed in indignation, not quite turning optimistic at the diluted sunset on the leaden sky. It was a rare sight indeed, but there was no use when all that he could think about was how stuck he was for the night.

'What the-'

A brief push from behind made him inhale sharply as he lost equilibrium for a split second, seeing his own death before his eyes. Faster than he blinked, he was grabbed by his middle and pulled back into balance. His head snapped back at the one who still had his hands on him, facing a pair of wide chestnut eyes and a smug smile that grew even wider.

'Chill out, I was joking!' The bassist burst into giggles like he didn’t give someone who actually considered jumping off one time the scare of their lives. Although tasteless, it gave him an odd assurance that the tragedy could never actually happen. Maybe it was an unorthodox way to get over it.

'You fucking moron!' Kristian tried to pull away from his best friend's arms.

'Man, you should've seen your own face' Olve rambled, completely oblivious. 'You really thought you would've fallen, didn't you?'

Breaking free with a vibrant blush on his face, the rhythm guitarist's back hit the small railing again, this time catching a hold onto the metal bars with both hands.

'You think you're so fucking funny but you're asking for me to beat the living shit out of you with your stupid pranks' he spit in bitterness, watching the band leader come closer to him one more time.

'Empty threats again. You know I’m just kidding' Olve cornered him conveniently.

'Back off' Kristian ordered although his own voice lacked enough firmness.

'Or else?' The bassist took a step closer, invading the other's personal space just to make a point.

Mild panic was blossoming inside Kristian's chest, their faces being only a few centimeters apart from one another. He couldn't tear his eyes away from his best friend, petrified by what might just happen. Involuntarily, he bit his lip in expectation.

'Don't' it was the last word he managed to utter, feeling a hot breath on his face.

'Don't what?' The bassist had the nerve to brush his lips against his mate’s while he purred.

The forbidden softness of those parted folds in contact with his own mouth made his heart slam against his thorax, cheeks catch fire and hands sweat on that icy metal. He felt Olve back away slightly as if ready to strike and before he had the chance, he pushed his hands into the bassist's plexus, forcing distance between them.

'Don't fuck with me like this'

The warning wasn't half as vicious as the band leader anticipated. It sounded more like a rigid boundary that the other set but secretly doubted because despite the firm sentence that slipped past Kristian's lips, his eyes were telling a different story, nullifying his assertive lie.

Olve chuckled, hands buried in his pockets and looked away. He mentally blocked his biggest failure before it could be more visible than it already was.

Embarrassment made him crawl out of his skin again.

'It's getting late and they're still down' he quickly changed the subject, looking over the balustrade to scan the area again as if the last 10 seconds never existed.

Kristian swallowed dryly and turned to the landscape, trying to pay attention to anything around him but the metalhead who lit up a cigarette and kept staring at the car underneath them.

In the end, they got down late in the evening using the external fire escape. The police were nowhere to be seen but they knew that didn't make the perimeter safer to walk. 

Numbed out by hours spent in acute-cutting wind and bothered by things that shouldn't have happened, they parted ways under the false impression that everything was good.

Self-denial could only go so far.

Thoughts of being able to close an eye tonight were mere illusions that started on their ways back home. With a pulse still racing within his ribcage, Kristian found it impossible to erase the feeling of his best friend's lips gingerly touching his own. 

Chapter Text

Pushing up the garage door, they entered a small place unused in centuries. In the center, a Volvo station wagon that looked like something straight out of the Mesozoic era was parked. Its tires hadn't melted into the ground yet and the layer of dust wasn't thicker than a nail, therefore there was a chance that it might still turn on one with a bit of patience.

The weekend had passed without seeing one another.

As if absurdity wasn't a strong enough word, after Friday's events nothing changed in their dynamic, or at least that was the superficial impression that they wanted to give to the other. Belonging to the past, forever to be forgotten, the self-awareness persisted like a third entity in the room, one supreme omnipresence intentionally unaddressed.

'That's dad's good old car since the 60s' Olve stated, palming the vehicle's hood lightly.

Kristian gave off a doubtful expression. 'Did he use it in the last couple of years?'

'Of course he did, but it's been sitting here for a few months. He told me to start it from time to time so the battery won't die but I forgot to. I guess it's pretty dead now' the bassist explained.

'Have you ever driven it?' The rhythm guitarist asked while taking a few steps around the dirty automobile.

'Yeah, a couple of times' the band leader admitted. 'But I'm not stupid enough to drive it around'

'Huh, you're stupid enough to throw crackers at cops' feet but not to take a ride with it?' Kristian couldn't help but make a subtle allusion.

'You know that driving underage could send you straight to the juvie, right? You might have had a thing for the skinhead look but I'd rather keep my hair, man' Olve bit back for a good reason.

'They send you to juvie only if you get caught' The rhythm guitarist corrected him smoothly.

The bassist sighed, wanting to shut up that smart mouth in prohibited ways. 'You like being the devil on my shoulder, do you?'

He liked the mischievous smile that those lips were stretched into even when Kristian shily looked away. He was a damned man for not being able to see anything but that pretty mouth now.

'So, are you up for it? You know those back roads better than I do and police never bothers to patrol outside town'

It wasn't the brightest idea and the bassist was aware of, but it was something he could do with his best mate and only him. His uncontrolled weaknesses were Kristian's simple eagerness and instinctive desires. He hated that he couldn’t say no to him.

'I'll have to buy a new battery' Olve stated. 'I'm getting paid weekly and I thought that I could start giving Padden back some of the money I owe him but.. yeah, we’ll see'

'Fine, do as you wish' the rhythm guitarist gave up, not wanting to seem dependent on his bandmate's choice.

There was enough uneasiness going on between the two.

'How is it that you want to drive around so much?' the band leader felt compelled to know.

'Well, I thought it would be fun. I'm tired of walking in these same old places and I can't take my mother's car because she would just kill me right off, no questions asked'

'So, you thought that it would be fine to just take my fucking car and me as a hostage in the passenger seat, huh?' Olve poked fun at him hoping that it would feel the same.

'I thought we had a history together' Kristian joked back but bit his inner cheek as soon as he realized how playful in the wrong sense his sentence sounded.

The bassist chuckled, refraining from adding a truly naughty comment. As a consequence, the rhythm guitarist felt his blood rush to his face and averted his eyes.

Was it going to be like this from now on? Walking on thin glass around one another due to a stupid mistake? It wasn't just one, of course, but the last felt the worst of all times.

It was an acrid Monday, leaving them with plenty of free time to kill until they would finally do something interesting on Wednesday by going to the studio.

'I'm fucking tired' Kristian groaned in indignation. Bored, mildly anxious and done with the task of living.

'Me too' Olve agreed, honestly. 'I have a feeling this job will probably get me hooked on energy drinks pretty soon'

'Ugh, what won't get you hooked on something sooner or later?' The rhythm guitarist asked rhetorically. 'I might head home earlier and take a nap'

'You can crush on my couch for an hour or two if you wanna' the bassist shrugged. 'I could watch Star Wars meanwhile'

The suggestion did sound tempting if he didn't know better.

'I can't close an eye with you in the room'

'You did. Stop eating shit'

'Careful'

'Only if I had a reason'

Kristian sighed, quitting their back and forth, exiting the garage.

'That's it? You already admit defeat?' The band leader grinned in triumph.

'See you at Grieghallen' Kristian rolled his eyes and turned to leave.

'Awh, come on! Don't be like that' Olve groaned dramatically, although he would lie to say he didn't want his best friend to stay longer.

'See you' The rhythm guitarist bade goodbye and went away.

Absorbed in a perpetual state of wanting to spend time with the bassist and running from intimacy, he felt utterly disoriented. It never happened before.

This cumulus of sentiments fighting inside to take the lead, contradicting one another was more powerful than his ability to stay anchored in the present. Therefore, he had to find some peace with him elsewhere.

---

Although fed up with losing sleep, there was no cure for the malady.

Olve sealed his coffin by coming so impossibly close to kissing him.

It was the evidence that he needed in order to realize that the prior incident when playing his new riffs was not in his head. He knew he felt it when their eyes met, alluringly, enchantingly. So succinct yet so profound. He hated thinking that he was probably the only one obsessing over a shocking moment that must've been nothing but a silly joke to his unreliable best friend.

How else could it be?

Olve never meant to take anything serious.

Then why was he the loser who was revisiting over and over again the ghostly sensation of dry lips on his own and fingers shily curled around his waist?

It wasn't just unnerving, it was shamefully arousing.

Kristian felt let down by his own body as the mental image of his most intimate juncture with another person was constantly tormenting him. Trying to ignore dubious feelings that he failed to put a name on, he went about his day as usual.

First day of the week or the last one, they hardly made a difference. High-school was boring him to death but he had to drag himself though it if he wanted to keep his liberty. Back home, it wasn't much better. An empty house with nothing left to do but rot in the company of unwanted introjects and recently stolen history artifacts.

Getting comfortable in his own bed even when napping wasn't possible and opening the premium edition of The Return of the King, he thought to pass the time by engaging in yet another adventure in recruiting the Dead Men of Dunharrow. The War of the Ring was one of his all-time favourite books and he would've enjoyed reliving the reading experiences only if his intrusive thoughts would've given him a break.

Restless and not being able to focus, his passive frustration only increased trying so hard to ignore it.

Not once he thought he might be cursed in one way or another, but it became apparent that what was eating him from the inside was impractical to dodge.

What the fuck was in the bassist's head when he teased him like that? If there was something to win out of it, Kristian was completely missing it.

Bright brown eyes, open wide but somehow somnolent. Warm chestnut hair, the nuance of dark blond that someone would transition into after entering adolescence. A handsome face, not too soft but not too sharp either, just ideal to match his effervescent personality. And that everlasting grin, so boyish and so arrogant, so unbothered despite the chaotic life that he was living.

He couldn't believe the outrageous particularities he had in mind. 

Something, somewhere in his development must've gone extremely wrong because he never thought of anyone of his peers in such inappropriate ways. He never fantasized about boys or rated their attractiveness because there was none before.

This can't be true.

All of the wonderful mental work that he did by postponing every ambiguous question regarding his so-called rigid orientation fell and smashed into the hard ground when presented with reality. The most frightening aspect of his freshest realization was that not even lying to himself would keep him safe from experiencing the fluster and rapid heartbeat, the butterflies in the stomach and that awful self-examination that came with being around Olve in the past few days.

In the end it was futile.

The trivial things he liked in his best friend were running inside his brain, making him scared to death of his weak heterosexuality and ardent at the same time for the novelty that only a deranged romance could offer. It was an indigestible feeling. Knowing that he should take a step back but simultaneously waiting for more.

Fucking futile.

The short-lived flashes of blind closeness, knees touching, cold hands brushing, eyes checking and searching but mouths never colliding.

The tease , such a fucking tease. He knew it was a scam, but what if it wasn't?

He could feel his cheeks growing warmer and warmer at the delusional motion picture of them kissing on that roof. The bitter aftertaste of cigarettes, the slow exploration, the uninterrupted connection.

The pure curiosity of how such mutual intrusiveness would feel like was suddenly occupying all of his imagination. His body knew no shame when it came to the forbidden and the repulsive, so the only thing that was holding him in place was his own rational restriction.

How vehemently wrong was admitting that he wanted the attention, he craved to be touched and traced like an object of infinite value.

Putting his lecture aside with not so much indignation, his hand traveled briefly underneath his t-shirt, feeling the smoothness of his skin under his fingertips. He must be a fool for thinking of the bassist's touch instead of his, but it made his pulse pick up, diluting his perception in a pleasant way.

Intoxicating, the deep voice in his head, the urgency, the hot breath on his nape when he was catching him off guard, the importance that he’s been offered. How he wanted to devour that importance so Olve could give him more and more of it.

Giving up on his constraint at the mercy of his own hormonal arousal, he unzipped his pants and slid his hand inside his underwear.

A hot exhale escaped his mouth at the sudden grip on his aching problem. It's been so long since he considered satisfying himself in any way due to his uninterrupted self-hatred and stressing household situation that he almost forgot how it felt.

Excited out of his mind, eyes closed and lips parted, groaning ever so softly at the prohibited thought of making out with his partner in crime.

As much as he wanted to be in the center of attention, he longed to delve into foreign realms too, to see and touch what the other had to put forward, everything that he had to put forward. His wrist motion gradually accelerated, gripping hard his swollen cock, feeling it throb with need underneath his pads. It felt so good. All he was burning for was the bassist's callous hand around him, jerking him off like a maniac.

Kristian bit his lip to drown the sweetly high noises of coming hard on himself, splashing his stomach with a hot, white viscosity while he gently slowed his pace.

Tired, half lidded eyes were staring blankly at the wall for seconds before he was done. Soft hair was sticking to his face and neck while his heart rate was coming down. The euphoria ended too fast to gratify him, but fast enough to exhaust him.

It was now that the thick cloud of lust evaporated and the only thing that he was left with was the mystery of how he ended up wanking to his bandmate.

His blood ran cold when he heard the front door opening and two voices chatting as they entered the house. Immediately he got up, wiped himself clean with a few napkins that he found on his desk and zipped up his pants.

She got off early.

It wasn't just that but she began bringing that man home more often than usual and he didn't like that at all.

The timing was horrible because he didn't want to go out or seek Olve's company today anymore, not after the strange turn that their friendship took. Not so soon after the last event. But he had no choice. Staying indoors, tolerating someone who was reminding him how much better and love-worthy he was to the only woman in his life was out of the question.

He didn't have to ruin his day like that.

Irked by unwanted visitors, he unlocked his bedroom door and stepped out of his comfort zone.

'Kristian'

Of course that as soon as made his presence known, his mother called out for him, imperial and demanding like always.

'I'm going out' he replied hostilely, passing in front of the kitchen before they could catch a glimpse of him.

'Could you bring a bottle of wine from the basement?' She asked regardless.

'Go take it yourself' he mumbled under his breath, putting on his dirty Adidas shoes. 'I'm not your fucking servant' the added bluntly before he could register.

'I asked you nicely, I never said you are a servant. Watch out for your words if you know what's best for you' she came in front of him, hands crossed and a severe look in her eyes. 'I won't permit vulgarities in this house'

'I know what's best for me, but do you know what's best for you?' He bit back, angered to see that man standing in the hallway, certainly waiting for their argument to be over. 'Honestly, I'm dying to see how this one will end'

'What is that supposed to-'

'Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about'

'Young man, you should have more respect for your mother. She works very hard to-'

The slight frustration in the deeper voice that had the audacity to intervene didn't escape unnoticed. He snapped his head to the intruder, giving him the most sardonic look possible and asked while trying to suppress his nerves. 'Will you teach me some?'

'Kristian-' his mother called out for him in vain as he already went out the door, slamming it in the process.

He didn't plan to snap like that but there was no turning back from his acrimony when presented with the main object of his indignation, triggering envy and his instincts to fight.

There was no point in lying, he knew his value or rather lack of it to her. Needed only when he could be useful in some way, ignored whenever she had everything on a plate. He told himself too many times that he should get used to that. It was the same old story after all, a new face with a different name playing the same part as many others before.

Underdressed for leaving in a hurry, he went to the bus station, lighting up a cigarette on his way.

---

'Why are you mad now?'

'I'm not mad'

'You literally look like you're on a killing spree and I'm about to be your first victim'

'That's stupid. Jørn is my priority'

'Ah, so you have a list'

With his own hands wrapped tightly around himself and shivering like a leaf in the wind, Kristian was lurking in the forest without direction.

Olve was keeping up with him even if he couldn't understand for the life of him the rhythm guitarist's obstinance. He didn't even have a jacket on him yet he insisted on facing the skin-cutting breeze for no reason.

Finding his best friend randomly at his door again in the same day could only point out that something wrong happened at home even if the other wouldn't divulge what. He didn't say much and then he turned to walk away expecting the band leader to blindly follow.

So he did without a second thought.

'For fucks sake, it's freezing cold' the bassist groaned in the background after walking for almost one hour. 'Why don't we get back already?'

'Go home if you want to' Kristian replied harshly. He then stopped in his tracks, turned around and demanded. 'Go! Just fucking leave!'

He had no clue why from all the places he could've found consolation his first option was the momentarily displeasing one, but it felt primordial to come to Os.

Despite everything, all he wanted now was to be left alone to sulk in his own misery and give power to his inner demons. Prefabricated to self-detonate, there was nothing that anyone could do to change his trajectory. All of his bandmate's whining was only driving him madder, pushing him to take it out on someone who didn't deserve it.

The bassist didn't say a word to the metalhead's childish outburst, but his eyes were talking paragraphs. Kristian turned back to his trail to nowhere and kept going despite the darkness that was entangling with the fauna, making visibility a real challenge.

---

Twigs were cracking in bright flames as the fire grew wider, illuminating two somber silhouettes in dark shades of red and amber. There was nothing around them but endless blackness and the faint lullabies of owls escorting their loss of words.

'I hate living there..'

Kristian swallowed the soreness in his throat from staying too much in the biting weather. He didn't have to explain that it was about his cursed household, the bassist knew what he was referring to. 

'..but I have no other place to go'

It was an observation that his own ears couldn't stand.

'Do you hate her?' Olve dared to ask, sitting on the damp grass, as close to the bonfire as he could.

'I don't know..' the rhythm guitarist whispered.

'You're stupid' the bassist concluded as a fact rather than an offense, moving closer to his fellow.

For once in a lifetime, Kristian didn't mind the insult, nor the feeling of another body shivering next to him, sharing fleshly warmth. He placed his head on the band leader's shoulder, eyes dull and mind blank.

It was like he knew he shouldn't play with fire but he did it anyway. The flames were soothing in more ways than he thought.

---

When he got inside Olve's house, he couldn't feel his musculature from the neck down. Praying to Odin that he wouldn't catch pneumonia, he went to help the band leader put wood in the stove to defrost themselves quicker.

'Do you wanna eat something?' The bassist asked as he opened the fridge.

Kristian just shook his head in negation, too numb to speak.

He would always tell his best friend that he's not hungry but he was starving and he knew the other also knew but still, he never insisted. Part of him appreciated that while another part didn't like how hopeless he seemed in Olve's eyes.

It didn't feel right to be in the same room with the person he masturbated to only a few hours ago. He crossed a solid boundary and soiled the innocence of their bond forever.

The bassist took out a box of pizza and ate the cold leftovers alone. He could feel the awkwardness between them intensifying while having no clue what his next move should be, if there should be a next move at all. Kristian plagued his mind entirely, driving him to an unspeakable wish to kiss him. To kiss another guy.

He could blame it on hormones and high adrenaline rushing through his veins from escaping cops, but he knew it wasn't just that. The scandalous concept crossed his mind before and he hesitated not once but twice, costing him mortification.

What if he's still thinking about it..?

His thoughts must be right because anyone would if they were in that scenario.

... what if he's more mad at me than at his mother?

While his mate remained silent, angst and paranoia were guaranteed.

'Hey, what's the next plan for tonight? Jam along some tracks or watch a movie?' Olve asked, running a nervous hand through his hair.

'I.. I have to go home' Kristian's eyes stood glued to the floor.

'Why?' The bassist uttered, disappointed.

The rhythm guitarist didn't reply, he just went into the living room to grab his guitar and then turned to the front door only to find the band leader waiting there.

'You can stay the night if it’s that bad at home. I don't bite' Olve lightly joked although he was meaning it, hoping he could convince him. He took a step closer, losing confidence to be face to face with the other again.

'I don't know what I fucking want right now' the rhythm guitarist thought out loud, moving past the bassist before he could change his mind, decisively leaving.

He didn't say goodbye, so he left a gram of hope in Olve's dejected suggestions, though it didn't help at all.

Once the door closed, the band leader knew he could never do it and he blamed himself for it.

The walk to the bus station was by far the hardest part of the day.

It wasn't like Kristian didn't want to stay, in fact it would've been the best of both worlds, but he couldn't be around his friend when disgraceful thoughts were haunting him, rendering him unable to focus on anything but carnal aspects and unshared desires.

Maybe Olve wanted something from him too. He never pulled away when he naturally leaned on him in front of the fire, but even so, there was no assurance that his assumption had a solid foundation.

To be comforted, what a strange and terrifying feeling. So uncommon, so anew, he had to pull away before it could leave an impression on him. It already left an impression on him.

Back in Fana, there was nothing for him there. The silence was deafening, the smell of a stranger's cologne and the extra set of shoes left at the door were making him sick to the stomach.

Misery was only adding up on top of preexisting misery, dread was growing inside his spine day after day after day.

Now he felt more alone than ever before. Doubtful of his own judgement and sexual attraction, in desperate need to feel something but scared out of his mind to experience anything at all, he was trapped inside a vortex of inner conflicts. Nothing prepared him to have meaningful people in his life, or at least a meaningful someone who's prestigious status was a highly unexpected product of prolonged loneliness.

He knew he needed Olve to cure his incurable melancholy.

The bassist was his main source of egotistic supply. A best friend, a brother from another mother, a place to call home, a place he knew it was his own.

Could it go both ways?

Dead-end concepts were keeping him awake regularly when everybody had their life figured out and now they were sleeping peacefully because tomorrow won't be a worse day than today. Kristian closed his eyes and forced his brain to shut up at least for a little while. 

Chapter Text

Tuesday came around on an upbeat note more than it was promoted by the everlasting gloom and habitual teenage hysteria.

'Huh, the path is worse than I remember' Olve thought out loud, venturing through the backcountry, unable to avoid the marsh. 'Maybe I should start investing in some real boots'

'Oh, how wise are you today' Kristian rolled his eyes, irked that he had to follow along wherever the other would take him.

The rhythm guitarist mustered the courage to come back to Os and try again to act like everything was normal. If there was one thing worth returning for was the way in which the bassist's eyes would light up like candles whenever his bandmate came by.

It always started with 'I know a place' and then, the band leader would take his best friend to an obnoxious, decrepit building or a new spot in the woods where he's never been before. The chances for him to enjoy their excursion were fifty-fifty while the chances for him to bitch about the road were infinite.

Therefore, there they were, two hours and a half away from civilization, emerging out of shrubs into a clearing where they found a house, or rather what was left from one.

'Tore showed me this place last year, I'm surprised it's still up' Olve commented, taking in the scenery of yet another human construction that fell victim to elemental ruination.

Kristian noticed a run-down tractor parked on the side of the house, covered in dry dirt and rotten leaves.

There was an old bolt on the front door, but the windows were broken permitting access inside. Graffiti spray was marking the exterior walls, suggesting that they weren't the first to stumble upon this place in a long time. There was a storm above their heads, ready to start at any given moment. They could feel the electricity in the air.

Olve wasted no time to climb onto the wooden frame and get in. The rhythm guitarist did the same, hopping onto a putrid carpet in what looked to be a demolished bedroom.

'What's the fucking smell?' He frowned in disgust at the rancid odor that welcomed them inside.

'Something must've died here. Could be a cat' the bassist suggested with a shrug. 'Let's find out'

Passing through every room, everything they laid their eyes on was a pile of trash. From molded furniture to broken chairs and beds, they've seen it all and even worse. Further into the bathroom, the source of the stench had finally been determined, it was a seagull that somehow got trapped in there and died in the sink.

'It would've been cool if we found a body-' Olve snickered, his voice being cut off by a loud thunder. 

'Nice timing' Kristian chuckled at the amazing synchronization.

'It's gonna start pouring soon' the band leader went to the window to look at the swinging trees outside. 'Should we head back, make a run in the rain or stay here for a little longer?'

'Are you serious? What is the point in leaving now? The storm would most probably end before we even get to town and you must be dumb to get soaked in the winter' the rhythm guitarist crossed his arms while explaining the obvious. 'We're stuck'

The verdict didn't weigh much on them this time.

'Lovely' the bassist commented sarcastically.

Dark clouds collided, allowing Mother Nature to do what she knew best, taking care of the undead vegetation and her green land. A few drops here and there rapidly turned into a spray with thunderclaps accompanying the celestial concert at irregular intervals.

Kristian stood by the wall, watching the harsh rainfall that dictated by wind would enter through the broken glass, wetting the already marinated floor. Olve was settled on the sofa with his hands behind the back of his head and his glance lost on the ceiling, oblivious to the contamination all around him.

'I'm getting sick of this place'

'You led us here, smartass'

'No, the city'

Dull brown eyes turned their attention to deep blue as he kept voicing his confidential thoughts.

'I don't wanna rot here. I'm working the shittiest job in town and everybody fucking rubs it in my face that I already failed in life. I didn't even start living, so what do they fucking know?' Olve complained.

'Why do you listen to them?' Kristian asked even if he already knew the answer.

'I don't' the bassist's lie was evident.

'You hate Olso, so where do you want to go?' the rhythm guitarist raised a curious eyebrow.

'America' the band leader's replied too quickly and enthusiastically. 'Where else? Everybody lives their dream there. I can't be a loser stuck in this fucking shithole for eternity. I'm just wasting time here, but for how long?' he chuckled to himself in pity.

Kristian didn't reply, leaving the conversation to naturally die.

If not even a week had passed since his best friend started working and he already was daydreaming about leaving for the western world, he didn't even want to know the disappointment that he would suffer when he will eventually break free from his magical thinking.

There was nothing that the rhythm guitarist could say to cheer up his mate and he didn't want to crush his hopeful delusion with the harsh truth, but the sound of rain smashing onto the ground brought tranquility over the two and waiting in an unmarked crackhouse stopped being such a disproportionate burden.

---

Getting back still dry and in a fine mood was the biggest reward for their forced patience. The storm had passed but the vault didn't look any more optimistic.

A semi-circulated dirt road, trees that were immune to the passage of time, old people's homes scattered across hills, placid fjords and the same shade of pearl-grey up at the horizon.

'Your hair looks so funny when the air is damp'

The teasing joke got Kristian self-aware. He couldn't stand the frizz that humidity would often give him. 'Oh, yeah? At least mine doesn't look like I stuck my fingers in a wall plug'

'It's naturally wavy. I can't help it' Olve shrugged, unaffected. 'When I was 14, I used to rock the streets with a perm. Man, you should've seen me back then, I looked like a fucking poodle in blue jeans and a Slayer shirt '

'I don't see much improvement'

'Then you're damn blind'

The rhythm guitarist chuckled, pleased he touched a nerve. The bassist's smirk and high energy were omnipresent even when everything around wanted them to feel depressed and apathetic.

Kristian was glad to have someone to balance his dejected disposition even if he couldn't entirely reciprocate.

All at once, everything felt normal again and he couldn't tell if it was a mirage or actuality.

All that mattered was that he felt relief.

---

Back indoors, they crashed on the couch with a generous bag of salty popcorn and a few cans of cheap beer. It was a working and a school day but nobody cared a bit and Frankenhooker was too good of a movie not to enjoy it to the fullest, sipping on something more than sparkling water and cold coffee.

Unhinged comments were thrown throughout comedic and suggestive screens together with lazy giggles while sweet inebriation was installing in their systems.

Fighting for the last bits of popcorn in complete unawareness, their fingers touched countless times inside the bag without it being a planetary tragedy.

The distance between them was always shifting as Olve couldn't stay in place for more than 5 minutes, stretching his limbs or curling like an undecided pet, always finding a tiny point of contact with Kristian's body. The rhythm guitarist didn't mind him at all, finding himself comfortable with one leg crossed over Olve's spread ones onto the coffee table.

'Alright, fuck music, I should enroll in medical school' the bassist blurted out after taking a gulp of booze.

'I liked Elvira better' the rhythm guitarist commented unimpressed.

'Tsk, give it a chance, man' the band leader mumbled absentmindedly, staring at naked breasts on the screen.

'You know, I take it back' Kristian chuckled at the sight of more bras being dropped.

'Damn, I bet that Lemmy Killmister has crack and hookers every night' Olve thought out loud, pitiful for the lack of flavour in his life. 'The one in red corset got a nice pair'

'You like them catty, don't you?' The rhythm guitarist couldn't help but smirk at his own insinuation.

'I like them going for it first, asking for cash later' the bassist grinned too.

When the flick came to a humorous termination, they were quite wasted, emptying the last drops of alcohol from a last can in hand.

'That was damn good' Olve giggled while the credits were rolling.

'Yeah, too bad it ended so quickly' Kristian slurred lazily without much thought. 'Ugh, I'm sitting too comfortably right now. Go put another movie on cause I'm not getting up any time soon'

'Jeez, why me, dude? Why always me?' The band leader groaned theatrically.

'Because I'm a guest here' the rhythm guitarist blurted out. 'You should entertain me'

'Oh, sure, right!' The other mocked. 'Do you wanna drink something?'

'Fuck off' Kristian snorted. 'I had enough'

'When is it ever enough?' Olve smiled smugly.

'Ugh, what's the plan next?' Kristian rolled his eyes, asking a better question. 'Evil Dead again or The Basement?'

'I don't know. I’m not gonna lie, I'm kinda horny now' the bassist simply stated, rolling a chuck of hair on his index finger.

'What the fuck?' The rhythm guitarist turned his head, halfway offended and amused. 'Are you for real?'

'Yeah, what? What’s the issue? It was a great movie, you said it yourself!' In his defense, Olve snickered.

'Gods, you're horrible'

'Am I horrible because boobs turn me on? Do you honestly hear yourself??'

Kristian sighed in indignation when his friend poked fun at him and burst into laughter. He very much minded being seen as a killjoy but he also felt awkward knowing what the bassist was feeling in the moment.

'Or are you too shy to admit you liked what you saw too?' Smiling like a reptile, the band leader threw the forbidden question.

Truth be told, Kristian also felt a bit excited but the shame was too much to make him reveal anything in that direction.

'I've seen dozens of movies like this' he crossed his arms in self-defense. 'I'm not easily impressed by girls flashing, besides, there wasn’t much besides that' in his drunken mind, he thought it was a great counter argument.

'Oh, yeah? Then you must have really seen some shit' The band leader kept on mocking.

'Of course I did. I had friends who lent me porn tapes before' the rhythm guitarist lied through his teeth, feeling cornered.

'Huh, lucky you. I could barely get my hands on one of Padden's specials and I had to give it back after only one week' Olve rambled, then chuckled. 'But you know what? I've got myself a present'

With that being said, the bassist got up and went quickly to his bedroom and back.

'What's this?' A bushy eyebrow was raised at the sight of a blank, unmarked cassette in his best friend's hand.

'Part of your history teacher's porn collection. I picked this one randomly, thought it would be worth it and it surely was' the bassist explained proudly. 'Wanna watch it?'

'How fucking horny are you?' Kristian questioned in disbelief, making the other metalhead just laugh copiously.

It wasn't his fault for being blatantly honest in the moment, it was the alcohol that was extracting all the social inhibitions from his brain, giving him the impression that his legitimate proposal wasn't purely absurd and outrageous.

The rhythm guitarist remained speechless for a second, thinking that the band leader was fucking with him again, but being tipsy himself, he found the situation ridiculous and gave it a shot.

After all, what was the big deal?

'You're about to find out' Olve snickered, pushing the tape into the VHS player.

'I don't even fucking want to' Kristian groaned while his best friend threw himself back onto the couch.

The daylight was almost gone at this point, turning the living room into a semi-dark chamber where the only source of glow was that modest, cubic television.

The screen turned black for a second before the video began with a regular man in what seemed to be a motel room, setting the camera on some kind of tripod. He then left and returned seconds after with two provoking-dressed women. It was then when Kristian realized that the trio was speaking German.

'Tsk, I should've expected' the rhythm guitarist chuckled at the ironic surprise.

'I swear to Satan that Deutschland is the number one breeding spot for all perversions out there' Olve giggled. 'Your prof is into kinky stuff'

Kristian sighed at the terrible remark while the two temptations on the screen dressed in black lingerie, bullet bras and what looked to be extremely high heels that akin to ballerina shoes were making out at the edge of a king size bed.

It wasn’t a sight to be missed, that was for sure as inquiry was slowly growing inside him. He watched the act progress into undressing, the scene being filled with Olve's unfiltered notes. He couldn't deny that the air was getting hotter as he gazed at one of the actresses unbuttoning the man's pants, seductively pulling them down with her long, delicate fingers. He swallowed the knot in his throat, feeling self-aware of his own arousal.

Contrary to what he made his bandmates believe, Kristian didn't watch much porn, in fact, despite naughty magazines, he only saw two movies of the procedure itself, leaving him even more unfamiliar than the others. Even deluded by intoxication, the shame could still be palpable. What he felt weird to watch with another person standing next to him was something that the bassist had no issue with.

'They really know what they're doing' the band leader commented, absorbed in the scene in which the women were performing oral simultaneously. 'Damn, this looks so hot'

The rhythm guitarist could feel that soft giggle and the lustful, deep voice of his friend vibrating through him. Olve's hands seemed to grow more restless on his thighs by second while he himself didn't know how to react.

'Are you good?'

Suddenly, Kristian blinked as a pair of dilated pupils met his.

'Why did you get so quiet?'

That was it. He had no explanation.

'What the hell do you want me to say while watching? Just give me a break'

Hostility came like second nature.

'Did you get excited?'

Kristian could sense his stomach drop at the devilish smirk that curled on Olve's lips while raising the worst question.

'Oh' The bassist didn't even need an answer. His mate's mad blush told him everything he needed to know. 'I see'

'Why don't you fucking mind your own business?' The rhythm guitarist demanded, concerned of his burning cheeks and obvious state of mind.

'I do. Just wanted to check if we're on the same page' the band leader replied.

What the fuck do you mean by this?

'Don't know about you but this shit really stirred me up' Olve confession through half lidded eyes, then did something that made Kristian's heart throb in his chest. He grabbed himself through his jeans and asked one last issue. 'Do you mind if I take care of it here?'

Breathing heavily through a thick smog of prurience, Kristian shook his head weakly in negation, before he was able to voice out the favorable answer. '... no'

'Nice' the band leader uttered smoothly. 'You can go for it too if you wanna. I don't care'

It was the last thing that's been said before the bassist turned his attention to the TV again, pulled his belt open in one swift motion, unzipped his pants and slid his greedy hand into his underwear.

The sheer shock of how easily and deliberately his bandmate began touching himself like he was the only person in the room lasted on Kristian long after giving permission. He didn't want to, but he could simply not avert his orbs from Olve moving his wrist up and down inside his boxers. He couldn't see much in the darkness, but the suggestive shadow was good enough to make his own pants as tight as possible.

He couldn't do this, not in the same fucking space with his best friend, although the urge was strong and it only got stronger when he finally locked his eyes on the screen.

The fellation evolved into penetration. A mess of long and thin legs spread obscenely onto the mattress, voluptuous bodies rubbing against one another, bleached-blonde hair scattered on the pillow, all while rough friction was taking place. A heap of vulgar sounds were blasting out. From curses of pleasure in the mother tongue, to the obnoxious noise of the bed shaking, to Olve's occasional groans, the phonetic orgy was forcing the rhythm guitarist to lose control and give in what he needed the most in that moment.

His own hardness was throbbing every time the bassist would inhale sharply and bite his lip to drown his low moans. Chestnut eyes transfixed on the flick, they would close in pleasure for long seconds to use his own imagination while working on his body’s pleasure.

Never in his life had Kristian seen something more erotic than another person getting off beside him. He didn't even realize when he started palming himself through his jeans but as soon as he allowed his problem an ounce of attention, he knew there was no way in which he could turn back from it.

Fuck.

He didn't want to slip a moan and be heard over the tape, so he tried to remain silent while he eventually freed his erection, stroking it hard but at a slow pace so he could last.

It was the most unpredictable and insane experience that he ever had. Not even his most unhinged fantasies would ever prepare him for this booze-induced aberration. But it felt good. It felt better than any time he ever touched himself, better than any salacious thought that ever ran in his brain.

It was wrong, but it never felt so damn right.

Positions changed and in no time, the actresses were on their knees again, sucking that man off like they were two bloodthirsty vampires.

'F-uck'

He turned his head in time to see Olve pulling his shirt up while jerking himself off frantically.

He likes that.

Just by noticing this, Kristian could come right then and there if it wasn't for another inhibition to dissolve in the heat of the moment.

'Can I?'

His voice sounded timid but persuasive, it caught his best friend's awareness in the blink of an eye.

'Huh?' Olve breathed out, confusedly, stopping and taking a second to process what he's been asked.

Licentious eyes locked, rendering it crystal clear what their intentions were.

Weakly, the bassist nodded as Kristian moved closer to him, feeling his heart smashing against his chest. 

The way in which the rhythm guitarist's fingers closed around his rock-hard cock almost felt like a drunken hallucination. The band leader forgot about the movie and everything around them when he felt the unmistakable touch of someone else on him. He gasped in surprise when instead of a new wrist motion, a pair of warm lips shily engulfed him.

Frozen in place was the perfect way to describe Olve's reaction.

'Kris-'

He cut himself short when his bandmate started sloppily sucking on his head, struggling to get further down.

The rhythm guitarist had no idea what he was doing. He blindly went with the flow, trying to imitate what he saw on the screen, applying his wildest, most ruthless deviation on his best friend. He couldn't distinguish any taste beside the one of beer strongly imbibed inside of his mouth, but he noticed the hotness, the twitching and the smooth, velvet-like texture assaulting his senses. It was by far the strangest aggregate he ever ran his tongue on.

As soon as he figured out the movement, he sneaked his hand inside his own underwear and picked up from where he stopped.

Slowly bobbing his head up and down, he heard the bassist moan and curse in need. His blunt fingers were digging into his thighs through his jeans, not knowing where to place them and not wanting to disturb Kristian. There was no time to think about alerting the other when he came undone with a frustrated groan.

The rhythm guitarist choked immediately as the burning-hot seed started to burst out. He pulled away coughing wetly, swallowing before he could spit.

'Holy shit' Olve breathed out, exhausted, his head hitting the backrest of the couch. Out of words and out of mind, he watched Kristian calm down too.

The atrocious flavour persisted even after gulping it down, making him nauseous.

Pulling out his dirty hand, he couldn't stand the mess he made on himself.

The race was worth the high, at least he tried to tell himself that while semen was getting colder and stickier in his own pants.

In a way, it was true. Because the unsolved sexual tension and crippling anxiety that were boiling inside him for days on end were now gone, simply vanished as if they never existed.

'Fuck, man' Olve was still struggling to get himself together while pulling up his zipper. 'What the fuck was that?'

'What? You didn't like it?' Kristian found the courage to ask directly in a wasted, yet superior manner.

'Of course I did' the bassist confirmed without a doubt. 'I just.. it-'

'Give me something to clean myself with' the rhythm guitarist demanded, pleased to see how easily the other got up and obeyed.

The film was over with neither of them knowing its ending.

Making himself decent again, Kristian went to get either water or more booze to wash out the aftertaste.

Everything felt surreal.

When he returned from the kitchen, he found Olve sitting again on the same spot on the couch, smoking up a cigarette in the static glow. The atmosphere felt lighter, not necessarily more breathable, but more entrancing in an indescribable way. The tranquility was stronger than the smell of sweat and nicotine.

'I'm tired' Kristian concluded as he occupied the empty space next to his mate. The bassist hummed in agreement, placing the filter between the rhythm guitarist's lips so he could take a drag.

Fatigue and exhaustion were rapidly fogging his brain, depleting him of any energy he might have had for the rest of the day.

What felt like hours on end was in fact an hour of messing around. Seconds of proscribed thrill and desires were mistaken for a substantial period of time.

How could that be possible?

Early in the evening, Kristian left, drunk enough to stagger on his way to the bus stop but not enough to already forget what he's done and what he's done was a radical move on his and Olve's friendship. 

Chapter Text

Being knocked out from sheer exhaustion assembled from chronic vigilance and topped by reckless alcohol consumption brought him the indispensable serenity that he needed so much.

When Kristian opened his sore orbs again, it was a Wednesday morning and he had to get ready for another lyceum day.

A low buzz in his ears and stomach sickness set his disposition for the whole day ahead. Trying to avoid the visual disturbance of his mother's weekend lover now almost turned concubine, he was debating with himself if he should try his luck and grab something from the kitchen or just go to school starved and suffer even more.

Since his little tantrum on Monday, he's been trying to circumvent his infuriating caretaker at all costs, but he knew that just because he managed to dodge meeting her eyes for the whole day yesterday, it didn't mean that he could keep doing that at infinity. The lethal quietness was a good sign, but it didn't tell him for sure if the coast was clear or not. Eventually, he had to come out of his room and leave before his parent would catch a glimpse of him and start the morning in style.

Out in the open, the smell of a fresh espresso was only adding to his nausea, forcing him to skip it. The hope that she left the house before him was shattered right before his tired eyes.

Downstairs, he found his mother in the kitchen. 

'Morgen' he mumbled on his way to get his jacket, wishing that being polite would somehow gatekeep the superficial harmony.

His mother turned all the way to him, annihilating him with her deep frown and look of exasperation. The fact that he bypassed her like the plague the day before only made the situation worse.

'I'm done with you'

He then realized she wouldn't have any of it.

'What?'

The words sobered him up like a cold shower.

'I can't believe what you said to me in front of him. You don't feel fine until you ruin one's evening, my evening' she stated firmly, egotistically. 'You always act like a savage and you cause me to lose respect in front of everyone. You should be ashamed of yourself-'

'Of course, it's always about you-'

'It's not always about me! I allow you to do everything you want, I give you money everyday, I don't question where you're going anymore-'

'Because you don't give a fuck about me anymore'

The confession slipped through his lips before he could stop it. The regret was automatic, but the freedom was empowering

Her mouth opened and closed again, changing her furious approach to a superior one. 'If this is what you think, then why don't you go to live with your father? You made it clear that you can't stand living with me anymore, so why don't you try something else? I'm done talking with the walls. I'm tired of you'

'Because I fucking hate him!' He raised his tone in frustration, anxiety rising like bile in his throat at her uncensored admission. 'He's always been a piece of shit with me and you fucking know that! Now you fucking send me to live with him??'

'At least he could make you behave! You got out of control, Kristian. I can't do this anymore. I feel like you're intentionally sabotaging me. Why do you always have to be like this??' She snapped.

'How?' He calmly asked to punish himself further.

'So, so.. hardheaded!' She struggled finding the right word until they all erupted like a volcano. 'So selfish and thoughtless and impertinent, so insufferable! I can't even begin to describe how hard you made my life'

Furious sincerity was pouring out of her, avalanching over him.

'You are just like your father'

The last ascertainment sealed the deal for him. He remained eerily impassive until she finished talking, then nodded slowly.

'Well, too bad then'

Defyingly, he threw her abrupt conclusion at her before turning around, opening the door and leaving after they both wasted their precious time arguing with each other. He left her hanging just to rub it in her face that there was nothing that she could do to change him in any way, shape or form when on the inside, he was breaking apart.

Getting tired of him seemed to be a global issue and he wouldn't care at all if it didn't come from the provider of that constant construct called love.

He dared to wonder for a second had she knew about his suicide attempt, would she still have the nerve to tell him straight in his face that she was done with him being selfish and insufferable?

It hurt. Everything that ever mattered was meant to hurt.

---

Walking down the high-school corridor, long stares and deprecating remarks were given. He couldn't see what others were seeing, but the kick was that he was looking like a junkie with dark circles under his eyes and the same set of clothes daily.

He would sleep during classes if the teachers wouldn't care, but today the rest was compromised by a harsh push in his ego followed by a figurative collapse.

In a rare moment of weakness when he would reveal to himself that the problem was him and not everyone around him, quitting life was his only way out, but then again, the self pity and the personal injustice would inevitably shift the blame once again onto the ill-intended and hostile world in which he was living just so he could survive a bit longer. 

But for how long?

Maybe the blame was improperly distributed and he was not evil nor innocent but he couldn't see beyond the veil of negativity and painful rejection that's been placed over his eyes.

He cut short his own educational time by skipping his last period. Unwilling to deal with a cynic collective and hungover sickness anymore, he withdrew to the safety of his empty empire. In retrospect, he was trapped in more ways than he was aware of. His matinal scandal ruined him for the whole day, making him completely forget that he had to attend rehearsals at Grieghallen in the afternoon.

When the fugitive thought of paying his best friend a quick visit so they could hang out for a little while until meeting up with the clique crossed his mind, his blood ran cold at a horrid realization.

Parted lips, burning touches and lustful looks, all coming in and out of focus between holes and gaps in his memory.

Fuck.

Fragments of scenes from a foreign movie, urgent moans and cans of alcohol were starting to come forward, breaking from his amnesia but not all the way yet.

Fuck.

His brain could barely remember what went on yesterday, but his body was in tune with the happening, making his palms sweat and mouth run dry.

He couldn't find the narrative, couldn't process the explicit crumbs, so he had to put small pieces together and reconstruct the events for the whole day so he could get a grasp of what exactly he did, but from what he could recall, he did much more than he would’ve in a fucking lifetime.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, still as stone, feeling his heart explode, the shock hit him like a train, crushing every bone in him and spreading his insides on a railway of indescribable guilt and shame. The self-mortification was almost like an out of body experience, showing him an entirely new dimension of himself, one that he would never have thought he had. But he did. It was there. The alcohol just gave it an opportunity to show up and the way it showed up was something that will never be forgotten.

'Fucking hell..' He cursed discreetly, running a nervous hand through his hair, wanting nothing but to break out of his skin than to live with the cursed knowledge that he sucked off his best friend.

Hands were curled into fists and nails were breaking into his palms as if trying to hold himself together so he wouldn't detonate from sheer indignity.

I fucking did that.

There was a screaming hell going on inside him while he was getting a hold onto the notion of his intoxicated actions.

Never experiencing the purity of a first kiss, he jumped head first on the flesh of the closest person in his life. Any dialogue he might have had with Olve beforehand was forever lost in his mind while the mental imagery was so transparent, so limpid that there was no doubt of what took place on the bassist's couch.

Acting on carnal desires, in the so-called heat of the moment could never be an excuse for putting his mouth on the last place he could've, but there he was, dying with regrets.

Eventually, he did it. He fucked up.

All it took was a day to believe that everything will be alright to destroy his most secure friendship, because one thing was certain. The moment he lowered his head between the bassist's legs, was the moment he lost all respect from Olve.

The conclusion already took place.

He lost, made a complete fool out of himself, displayed to the whole world that he had no boundaries, no dignity, no integrity, no self-worth and basic understanding of how human relationships worked. He made a fatal move. But the real problem had only begun.

---

Legs felt weaker and weaker with every step he took to the studio.

Debating if he should or shouldn't go, he made up his mind at the last moment, taking his guitar and emerging onto the stillwet streets of Bergen. He didn't know what he should say or do to make the band leader keep his mouth closed about their intimate ‘play time’, but he had to find a way to win his silence to keep his image clean within his group or he wouldn't make it through the night.

In a rush, he threw away the cigarette butt before pushing onto the door handle and getting in.

As always, loud voices talking over each other and laughter could be heard from the entrance because neither of his friends minded to keep the workroom closed for anyone who might also have business in the building.

This is it.

Inhaling deeply, he came into the studio, surprised to see two pairs of eyes instead of three turning at him.

'Hey' he saluted, awkwardly, unknowingly for what to expect.

'Hi there' Tore greeted normally, tuning up his guitar. 'You're early'

'What's up, man?' Jan asked lazily from his desk chair.

'Not much' Kristian shrugged, putting his guitar case down. Mildly relieved that nothing changed yet but still skeptical, the tension wasn't over yet.

'Alright, do we start?' The drummer made the call, getting up to stretch his limbs. 'What do you guys wanna play first-'

'What about Olve?' The rhythm guitarist cut him off with a valid question.

'He said he's sick and he'll skip the rehearsal today' Jan informed. 'Honestly, I think he's being fucking lazy'

'He is, but that's old news' the lead guitarist added with a chuckle. 'By the way, I started writing a new song-'

As Tore's ramblings went on, Kristian couldn't help but feel lost in a great sea of uncertainty.

It was more than obvious that the bassist pulled the dullest excuse to be on his own and it was frightening the rhythm guitarist to wonder why. The possible answers were multiple and none of them sounded good. Repulsion, vexation or simply being done with him were only a few certified motives to stay away from him, now and forever.

The notion cut as many other rejections cut him today, but perhaps it cut the deepest.

It was impossible to predict what the bassist's next move could be, but he trusted his gut feeling that he would most probably snap as anyone in his situation would and when the others would find out, he would come to the end of his short-lived social life.

Kristian's performance was just deplorable, a devoted reflection of how he felt inside. Playing sloppily and out of sync due to his mind being lost elsewhere didn't pass unnoticed by his bandmates.

'You good? You seem distracted today' Tore asked curiously during their smoke break.

'Yeah, I'm just a bit tired, that's all' Kristian brushed him off, inhaling his cigarette in a poor attempt to distract himself.

It was all a matter of time until the earth would crumble underneath him and the fall would be final.

Once their rehearsal session ended, the two suggested a quick stop at Apollon, which the rhythm guitarist refused.

Terrified to go home and to call it a day, he parted ways with his peers and went on a solo walk.

Tired of isolating himself in his bedroom, tired of fighting an endless fight with everyone, tired of being the thorn in his mother's side and the pain in his best friend's neck, he inevitably thought about ending it all. It wouldn't be the first or the last time when suicide would be magic the answer for all of his problems, but this time it was different.

The first time, he had a witness who stepped in right before the tragedy could happen. Now, there was nobody who could say or do anything to prevent him from taking his insignificant life.

Ironically, he wished Olve was there, alongside him, giving him the minimum assurance that things were going to be alright.

How stupid it was to think about wanting to be consoled by the very person who was now actively running from him, but it was true. He needed someone, anyone to cling to in order to stay alive and who else would that be than the unfortunate individual that showed him unconventional kindness.

Two hours later and the tightness in his chest didn't diminish, although the burnout hit hard. No matter how late it was, it never felt late enough to crawl back to his grave that's been disguised as a perfect domestic establishment, but he had to.

Loathingly, he had to.

---

Two days, almost 48 hours had passed since Kristian's repetition at the studio, and even more since he saw Olve last time.

The disastrous conjuncture in which he was thrown into was tearing at his sanity and rational thinking, making him believe that the worst must've happened while he stopped hearing from his bandmates.

Never sleeping and barely eating, he fell back into the pit of hopelessness he fell right after the New Year's Eve making him wonder just who's going to pull him out this time.

Thoughts of going straight to Os, to understand what was going on and to clear up the situation were crossing his mind constantly, but the fear of making everything worse was much stronger than his impulses.

Olve didn't want to see or hear from him, that was the ultimate conclusion that he got from all the stiff silence that's been floating all around him.

He fucked up. Totally and irreversibly fucked up.

How was it that once distance had been forced between the two, he was the one who couldn't breathe without the other? And how was it that his late obsession with the bassist felt like all that he ever knew? Insanity could pardon a lot of his bizarre mental habits, but not all of them.

He should've been grateful because at least he was going insane in peace.

After their last fight, his mother's treatment turned colder than ever before, turning them into strangers that unfortunately had to share the same space for a little longer. She stopped bringing her romantic interest at home, instead, she made sure to pass by his place daily after work.

How much better.

Being entirely forgotten, thrown away like an outdated accessory or a broken toy pained him the most.

All he wanted was to make up for what he's done, not with the lost cause of a family, but with his former best friend at least.

He craved for a chance to somehow turn the table in his favour and return to what he had before. Even in theory, things weren't that simple, not when the most autocratic force in his life was his selfishness. Not even his fantasies of forgiveness could ever escape his tyrannical selfishness.

What he truly wanted, at the deepest level of egocentrism was Olve's total and absolute attention. He wanted the fugitive looks to keep happening and the touch of their bodies to occur on and on. He craved the petrifying intimacy to continue living between them.

It was something that no one ever gave him before.

He could write novels with all the excuses he would find for the bassist to keep his eyes on him, just to keep his eyes on him regardless of what he did. To continue undressing him with his glance if he wanted to. 

He wouldn't bite the hand that fed him significance for almost half of a year now, not when he reached an all-time apogee in which he felt a real bond, one profound human connection. His thoughts, although delusionally optimistic at this point, were necessarily to protect himself from the other side of the coin, the ugly and damned-to-be-truer side.

Out of smokes but sick to taste their addictive bitterness on his tongue, they were his only medicine. Rotting in bed for hours on end, sulking into his own tragic fate, he thought he was hallucinating when he heard the phone ringing. Reluctantly, he got up and went to see what kind of devastation was waiting for him on the line.

'Ja?'

'Hey, man'

To his own astonishment, it was Tore.

'How are you doing? I'm so bored I could scream and I can’t get anyone to pick up, do you wanna hang out?'

The lead guitarist's tonality didn't sound divergent in any way, like he didn't know Kristian's promiscuous secret yet. It gave him a bit of hope.

'Uh, I'm fine' he quickly lied. 'Yeah, sure'

'Oh, cool! Dad's driving me to town, see you in 30 minutes'

And with that being said, Tore hung up.

The rhythm guitarist debated the idea of meeting up with the other or not, but eventually the natural need to socialize again won against his will for lifelong loneliness and self segregation.

Getting downtown, the music store was always the meeting spot with his peers. Expectantly, he arrived there before his friend and had a smoke to detangle from his worries.

'Hey, dude'

'Hi'

The lead guitarist smiled lazily while gripping Kristian's hand in a short salutation.

'So, what are you up to?' Tore asked while they already started walking in a random direction.

'I don't know really' the rhythm guitarist shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets anxiously. 'Whatever you suggest, I guess'

Tore was the unique type of person that would get along with everyone. The only 6-stringer that didn't have the basic arrogance that every 6-stringer, including Kristian, had. That particular aspect ruled the metalhead out from his imaginary competition within the first 10 seconds in which he met the guy. In such conditions, they got along well.

A spontaneous hike into the local backwoods, out of the clamorous urbanization was always soothing for the misunderstood youth. He liked that he wasn't the only one with a wish to escape from their obnoxious surroundings and actually the whole band was aiming for that. It was his tribe after all, otherwise he wouldn't find himself in their company.

Talking about music worked as a good diversion for Kristian. Surprisingly, he liked the material that Tore came up with and he could see it as something useful for their next track.

'-so, I'm pleased with the main riff, it's really something I'm proud of. Maybe the bridge can be changed a bit, but I can't wait to show it to Olve'

The rhythm guitarist's heart skipped a beat at the name that's been mentioned.

'You guys haven't seen each other to talk about this?' He felt the urge to ask, trying not to seem off.

'No, not yet. Thought he was being lazy for skipping rehearsal, but I guess he must be really tired after work so he doesn't have time to hang out as often'

It wasn't quite true as the bassist was spending almost all of his free time with Kristian in Os, but Tore didn't have to know that.

'Ah, things were easier a while ago' the lead guitarist chuckled nostalgically.

'You mean, before getting a job?' A bushy eyebrow was raised. Suddenly, he wanted to know the details.

'Back before the worries of what the fuck are you going to do with your life began' Tore giggled nervously. 'Sometimes I wish he would've stayed in school, it's been so fucking boring without him. I mean he works 6 hours a day while I spend 8 hours in a seat doing nothing. He gets paid while I get my brains cooked. It's not fair'

Do you think about dropping out too?' It was Kristian curiosity that was insisting.

'Oh, I wish' Tore grinned. 'My folks wouldn't really mind that but I wouldn't want to stay at home living on their money and rules anymore. Jan's parents frown on him for spending his salary in bars and Harald's literally pushed him to leave with his girl just to take him off their backs. None of that sounds good, right?'

'I get that, I'm more or less in the same situation' the rhythm guitarist freely admitted.

'Well, that's why I said things were easier a while back. Things got kinda messy. Jørn likes to joke that we drink like fishes but he's a bit right' the other metalhead giggled.

'And a hypocrite' Kristian was quick to add.

'And a hypocrite indeed' the lead guitarist agreed.

'Wasting time without hitting the bar at least once a week sounds fucking unreal to me' The rhythm guitarist blurted out honestly.

'Yeah, well, it wasn't always like this. We weren't much into drinking until lately, not Jan even and he's fucking older than us, but Olve kinda came with the habit' Tore revealed without a second thought.

'Huh, how so?'

It was too lately to stop the interrogation as his interest had been picked.

'Ugh, I don't know.. I’ve known him since I was little. We used to be the craziest kids in school, but we didn't really do anything too crazy. We just loved rock and roll. He changed since high-school began. I don't know why or how, but whatever..'

He could tell that the other metalhead was hesitant to give a straight answer. He probably knew much more about the band leader than he would manage to ever find out but Kristian was smart enough not to push his luck any further.

Returning to town early in the evening, they passed in front of Garage when a sharp whistle made their heads turn simultaneously. A familiar face with an after-work smirk came to them with well-known intentions.

'Why am I not surprised to see you two nightcrawlers out?' Jan joked, approaching his bandmates.

'Could've been the three of us if you were anywhere to be found' Tore reproached teasingly.

'Just got off work when Jørn called me to get here' the drummer explained.

'Wait, Jørn's inside?' The lead guitarist asked, referring to the pub behind them.

'Yeah, yeah. Come on!' Jan gestured for them to follow as he entered the local.

There was no point in wasting himself in Garage tonight, not when he hardly managed to surpass his feelings of loathing, but he didn't have time to protest as Tore already went after Jan without looking behind.

Noisy laughter and chit-chat was exactly what he didn't sign up for together with the thick mist of cigarette smoke that was burning his eyes. The iconic riffs of Metallica were playing in the background, setting up the atmosphere into an energetic but casual one.

'Oi! You brought the whole crew?' Jørn raised a hand at the trio, spotting them in the low, ambience light.

‘The more, the merrier’ Jan grinned, pulling out a chair.

Kristian's blood went cold when he saw who was standing at the table next to the guys from Amputation with a cigarette in hand and zero fucks to give. He saw in real time how the relaxed look on those inattentive dark eyes shifted to stupor before anyone could notice.

'There you are, motherfucker' Tore mocked, taking a seat next to his old friend. 'Dropped dead from a few days only to catch you in a bar, right?'

'Man, I started working my ass off in the port! I had to catch up with some sleep' Olve immediately jumped to his predictable justification.

‘Yeah, yeah, sure you did’ The lead guitarist rolled his eyes.

The group laughed and started to order drinks, only Kristian remained silent, burning holes in the bassist's face for his fraudulent evasion. It was going to be a long night, he was damn sure of that. 

Chapter Text

He couldn't put a name to what he was feeling at the moment. The sentimental cocktail included pure dread, apprehension, frustration and an ounce of excitement coming from finally facing his fugitive friend.

He spared himself from getting drunk tonight, sipping on his tonic water and nothing more. He couldn't risk any chance for guaranteed embarrassment, not when his whole decency was wrapped around the band leader's finger. He could trace the awkwardness in Olve's posture and his covert unwillingness to lock eyes with him, but he couldn't blame him for this. The only thing that was irking him more than anything was the despicable cowardice of dropping dead for three days straight.

It was obvious that the bassist didn't plan to see him there tonight, he saw the slight panic in his face as soon as he walked to the table. But he could only run from what he feared for so long.

The cheap beer and the ordinary ramblings about music were suddenly so very entertaining that they captured the band leader's entire attention. And where was his slight antipathy for the bassist from Amputation if he agreed to go out with him again?

Hidden hypocrisy was filling the air heavier than nicotine.

'Gotta spit' Olve got up. 'If you're ashing your cigarette in my fucking drink, you're a goner when I’m back' he told Jørn specifically before heading to the restroom.

'Ey, it was Truls last time!' The other bassist giggled, lying to his face and earning a shove in the ribs from his scapegoat-nominated friend.

How much longer would he act oblivious of the pulsing problem? Kristian's eyes followed the band leader until he disappeared into the background.

'What's up, Kris? You've been quiet all night. Get a drink and have fun, man'

The rhythm guitarist frowned at Jørn's mockery. Starting teasing him as soon as his consecrated 'best friend' would leave was painfully predictable and relentlessly annoying.

'I got a headache. I'll give it a pass' he instantly advocated for himself and turned the ridicule. 'Enjoy your way back home tonight, if you find it, of course'

'Ouch' Tore sucked in a quick breath.

Jan snickered at the rhythm guitarist's bitchy remark, internally approving.

'Of course, just how you enjoy your headache right now' Jørn bit back with a sharp insinuation.

Kristian sighed loudly and got up. 'I'm going out for some fresh air'

He didn't wait for any kind of reply before he was gone.

On his way to the exit, he briefly looked at the dimly lit restroom corridor. How he hated turning from his way to wait for someone who was silently giving up on him, but his brain already made the decision. Lost between dying to say something, to finally reveal the cards and staying mute for the rest of his life, Kristian risked everything with one desperate move.

When Olve opened the bathroom door, he almost jumped when he came face to face with the rhythm guitarist.

'Uh, hey' the bassist awkwardly mumbled, caught off guard.

'Do you have a minute?' Kristian asked with a stoic look on his face.

---

Cars were running on glossy streets while people were walking on the narrow pavement. The faint hard rock music could be heard from outside the pub while the wind was blowing softer than usual.

Out in the open, under the neon lights and forever clouded skies, they found themselves astray and unwilling to break the ice.

'Why are you running from me?'

It was a confrontational question, but it lacked any trace of malice.

'I'm not running from you' Olve immediately got defensive. 'I've got stuff to do on a daily basis now, you know? It's not like-'

'Then, why didn't you say something? Your friends were wondering what's up with you' the rhythm guitarist could say that he was the one more startled than everyone else, but he didn't want to make it seem that personal yet.

'I was busy. They're just too used to me being at their door all the time. That has to change' the band leader replied, crossing his arms as if needed to protect his weak argument.

Coward.

Kristian knew they weren't going anywhere and his patience was running thin.

'You're a bad liar'

Olve's heart skipped a beat when he finally got called out.

'Why?'

Blue eyes were staring with exhaustion into his soul, waiting for the curtain to fall and the truth to come out. It was then when he unlocked the bassist's real emotions.

'Fine, I got freaked out' the band leader confessed. 'I-I don't fucking know what happened, I didn't plan this, I swear. I- I just..' He nodded in negation while trying to find words to explain. 'I'm not.. I' don't swing that way, alright?' He looked deep into his best friend's eyes while uttering the embarrassing admission.

'Me neither' Kristian assured him just as serious, finding it impossible to think otherwise. '...but did you enjoy it?'

It was a very daring question that the bassist wasn't ready for.

Blushing madly and hating himself for looking like a clown, the band leader nodded slowly. 'Yeah' he swallowed drily before uttering. 'Did you?'

'I did' the truth rolled smoothly on Kristian’s tongue.

He didn't know where this sudden urge of sincerity came from. It must've been the mental torture that he put himself through that made him drop the act and come clean to himself and to his bandmate. The feeling was deliberation.

'I thought you'd get so fucking mad once you get sober that you'll literally come to burn down my house' Olve couldn't find the courage to lie anymore. His best mate's honesty turned contagious. 'I didn't know what the fuck to do. I know I fucked up because I started all of this'

There was one wicked way in which Kristian could turn the bassist's moment of weakness into an unscrupulous opportunity. Maybe balance could be restored, not exactly to how it was before, but to a certain phase that the rhythm guitarist enjoyed the most.

'I'm not mad at you'

'What?'

The band leader couldn't believe the calm and collected voice in which his best friend was still speaking even after all of this.

'I guess that's it' the rhythm guitarist shrugged. 'I don't know what to say anymore, what it's done it's already done'

'So.. where do we go from here?' Cautious brown eyes meet deep blue for one more time.

The way in which Olve was relying on Kristian to set a direction in a delicate moment of impasse gave the rhythm guitarist too much power for what he was truly chasing.

'Well, it depends on a few things. Do you want to forget about it or.. do you want to casually fuck around from time to time?' He made sure to look unreadable while throwing a shocking statement. ‘Either way it’s fine. I don’t care which one you chose’

The fashion in which their discussion evolved wasn't what the bassist's expected in the slightest, but he couldn't deny the fact that his heartbeat picked up at the minuscule chance to repeat their most intimate juncture.

'To fuck around like..?' He raised an eyebrow at his bandmate, leaving his question open so he wouldn't be the one to put a name to them.

'No feelings and shit involved, we could just help each other out when in need. It doesn't have to mean anything' the rhythm guitarist set the possible rules of a very convenient scenario.

'You want us to be friends with benefits or something?' Olve giggled, nervously, having to hear it himself to make it real.

Does he really want that?

'I'm not insisting, I'm just suggesting and if I think about it, I'm kind of indifferent both ways' Kristian lied effortlessly, too close to obtain the best outcome from a short-lived catastrophe.

'Yeah' the band leader agreed to himself more than to his best friend before one side of his mouth curled upwards in a grimace of satisfaction. 'It could be fun'

'Good' Kristian couldn't hide his own timid smirk as he nodded at their brave agreement. It turned out almost too good to be true.

When the band leader went inside, the rhythm guitarist was still thinking about how he did it. The mutual understanding was to give the bassist enough time at the table so when he himself would return, it wouldn't look like they came back at the same time from the same place.

Endless battles with his worst fears had ended in a matter of a few minutes, in front of a bar at 10 pm on a weekend night. How the hell did he manage to keep his calm and not only navigate his way out but turn his grave misfortune into a paradise of possibilities was beyond his knowledge. But he did it. He set the code for a brand-new and thrilling game to begin. A game in which he could get everything he wanted, keep his comradery intact and start accessing the promised land of validation.

It was what he exclusively needed in order to survive himself and the deliberate malice all around him.

---

It would be too naive to say that everything worked out in the end when Olve was still unsure of his own feelings but ready to take whatever Kristian could give.

There was no hidden agenda in his intentions, no illicit assertiveness or covert will for domination, just the pure hormonal desire to explore carnal pleasures that he couldn't access otherwise.

Maybe that was all that he craved all along and the nights in which he was debating on why on earth he would want to kiss his best friend didn't have anything to do with romance at all. Maybe he read the signs wrong because the moment in which the rhythm guitarist's lips closed around his erection, every piece of the puzzle fit perfectly.

Once the alcohol left his system and lucidity was allowed, the shockwave went through him like lightning.

Expecting a ‘helping hand' was one thing, but being sucked off until he burst out was completely on another page.

Without shame or regret, he loved every second of it. He could've never guessed the dormant lust and the personal perversion living inside his best friend until he experienced them himself. An indecent surprise, another side of their personalities revealed, a bullet hole in their fellowship.

The severity of the implications and Kristian's anger issues were real, as real as his irrevocable decision to ditch the rehearsal and play dead for as much as he could until the inevitable couldn't be dodged anymore.

Locking himself up after work didn't help at all as he was reliving the porno in his head again and again, giving into the temptation and jerking himself off to the fresh memory of that wet and warm heaven that nullified everything that he thought was arousing before. No magazine or tape compared to the real deal and from now on, he was left with his cravings and nothing more.

If shame was nonexistent, then guilt was a flickering construct. In the end, he couldn't deny that Kristian lit up something in him.

If the rhythm guitarist really meant his words, then the depressing days of fantasizing about being caressed by something other than his own hand came to a definitive end.

How did they get to that? He still lacked a solid answer.

The only thing on his mind was this deja vu in which nothing ever changed between them except that everything did.

The house was cold and stiff thanks to his innate laziness to make the fire, or do anything at all, so the thickest woolen socks that he could find and three layers of sweaters should do the trick and keep him warm until his bandmate would come by after school like he usually did.

Two hours of procrastination later, he heard the front door open and then jumped out of bed.

'Gods, put some fucking wood in the stove. It feels like inside a refrigerator here'

Olve smiled when he heard the rhythm guitarist's typical tone.

'Ugh, can't I have a break from having to do stuff all the time?' The bassist emerged into the doorway.

'You're such a fucking deadbeat' the rhythm guitarist insulted, although it was his way of showing affection.

'Nice to see you again, man' the bassist replied accordingly, reading between the lines.

There was a faint trace of blush on Kristian's cheeks that formed as soon as he greeted him. For unknown reasons, Olve found it cute for a second.

'So, I bought a new battery' the bassist revealed in an optimistic voice.

'You did?' The rhythm guitarist found it hard to believe.

'Yeah, we can try to change it whenever you're up to'

The news was great but without technical knowledge, he doubted that he could come in handy. However, he followed the band leader in the garage to see the acquisition.

'I don't know anything about cars' Kristian states, crossing his arms while visually inspecting the compact component.

'Say no more' Olve rolled his eyes while lifting up the automobile's hood.

'Are you going to change it now?'

'Well, why not? Better late than never. Besides, it shouldn't be a burden if we do things in the right order'

'And do you know the right order?'

'I have a rough idea, but we'll figure it out'

Grabbing his father's old tool box, he had everything minus a pair of safety gloves, but that detail was irrelevant.

For Kristian, it wasn't the most interesting process to assist but found it meaningful that his best friend actually minded to invest in something only for his sporadic wishes when he should've been paying debt to all of their peers. This kind of notice was exactly what the rhythm guitarist needed to feed off. To feel relevant in someone's life.

He helped Olve the best he could, cleaning the implicit mess that came with working on a car and with the battery replacement.

It took a while to wipe the terminals since they didn't have anything to dissolve the filth with and the wire brush was duller than a Tuesday, but they managed.

'Oh, shit. We should've taken these off' Olve pointed at the red plastic covers from the ends of the battery.

'Do we have to pull it out again?' Kristian sighed in exasperation.

'Yeah, stop whining' the bassist ordered while lifting the heavy component again.

'I'm not whining, you could clearly call Jan and use some instruction' the rhythm guitarist bit back, frustrated.

'You surely do know how to use that smart mouth of yours' the band leader commented smugly, but gasped in horror when Kristian let go of the accumulator for a millisecond, making him almost drop it on his feet.

Locking eyes with an intense pair of blue, he read the message of 'checkmate' in them. Eventually, he let it be for the sake of finishing the deed during daylight.

After attaching the cables to the new element and making sure that they were locked in tight, Olve wiped his hands clean on his fortunately dark jeans and went to start the car. He put the key in the ignition and turned all the way until the beautiful sound of a farting diesel engine broke the silence.

'It worked!' Saturated in satisfaction, he yelled out at his mate over the automobile noise.

'Dumb luck' Kristian teased, coming to the open driver door. 

'It's called skills' the bassist insisted, despite his comrade's eye roll. 'Do I take you for a ride?' He blatantly smirked.

'Where to?' The rhythm guitarist asked uninterested.

'To the nearest gas station if it doesn't let us down sooner' Olve shrugged nonchalantly.

'Fine' Kristian confirmed and went around to the passenger seat.

'Pray there's no cop on the way there' the bassist thought out loud while pulling the car out of the garage.

'Well, it's not my car after all-'

'Don't you dare give me that!'

The rhythm guitarist snorted, loving to push on his best friend's buttons just as much as the other did to him.

The ride to the nearest fill station was eventless. The overpowering smell of plastic and heavy oil was something that he had to get used to and he will, because nothing felt more empowering than being able to go further than the lethargic suburbs that he knew all too well. He would never admit out loud but Olve was driving much better than he would've given him credit for. He didn't know if the bassist's style was typically aggressive or just rough for not getting behind the wheel in a long time or if it was a combination of both.

On the way back, they switched seats and when it came to Kristian's clumsy driving approach, avoiding teasing was simply impossible.

A few lonesome droplets started to fall from the sky and when they made it back home, it already started to thunder.

'I'm staying over'

The rhythm guitarist casually announced, opening up the box of cornflakes that he bought while his comrade was still filling the car.

'Did you ask for permission?' The bassist raised an eccentric eyebrow.

'Do I have to? The other metalhead asked back with entitlement, taking a seat on the cursed couch again. 'The rain won't stop until tomorrow and you don't have the heart to throw me out just because'

'And who says I don't? Maybe I'm really bad to the bone' Chestnut brown eyes lingered on his mate's face a little too long while he joined on the furniture, negating personal space.

'I'm pretty sure I would have noticed by now' the rhythm guitarist couldn't help but flirt back despite his triggered nervousness.

He felt a throb in his chest when he saw the band leader bite his lip while still looking at him with those eyes. Only three days apart from that drunken misadventure and the hunger was still living through the bassist.

'So, anyway' the atmosphere shifted as Olve changed the subject by turning on the TV. 'It's a wrestling match tonight. I forgot who versus who, but fuck it, it's gonna be great anyhow'

To sit in the same spot where the most infuriating error had been committed was like recalling something from another life. Kristian pushed the vulgar echo to the furthest corner of his mind to be able to enjoy the show while the hail was beating into the windows.

The chill left them with no option but to make the fire. Once the warmth began to extend, they got a blanket and got cozy underneath it.

As hours slipped through intense rounds and annoying commercial breaks, somnolence started to build.

'Don't know about you, but I can barely keep my eyes open' Olve yawned, putting his bowl of pistachio shells onto the coffee table.

'Huh?' Kristian blinked away the sleep in his orbs, realizing that his head was resting on his comrade's shoulder.

'I'm off to bed. My alarm goes off at fucking 4 in case you forgot' the bassist groaned in indignation and got up.

'I fucking hate your job' The rhythm guitarist blurted out, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

'We all do' the band leader chuckled. 'Anyway, it's gonna get colder overnight, just so you know'

'I've slept here before so I already know. What do you suggest?' Kristian asked rhetorically.

'Alright, my bed is warm and big enough for both of us, so-'

'How smooth'

'No, wait! I didn't mean it that way!'

'How fucking desperate are you?'

'I'm being serious, jeez' the bassist sighed in embarrassment at his best friend's naughty insinuation. 'You know what? Fuck it. Time to be bad to the bone. Night' he wished, turning around and walking away.

Kristian just groaned, turned off the TV, pulled the blanket tighter on his body and went to sleep without trouble.

It was later in the night when the living room started to cool off, making it harder and harder to rest. Being a light sleeper was to blame for waking up in pitch darkness, shivering like the flame of a burning candle. Forced to open his eyes and deal with the nocturnal discomfort, he tossed and turned in vain, unable to drift away.

Fast forward 30 minutes and he gave up entirely. Annoyed by the eventuality that he might lose even more hours of sleep, he decided to take the risk and to sneak into his best friend's bedroom.

Walking on his tiptoes like a dexterous feline, he pushed open the door left ajar and entered the chamber.

In the thin light coming from the window, he spotted the bassist hibernating in the middle of the bed like a starfish. Done with thinking what he should do, he chose to wake up his bandmate by shaking his shoulders.

'Hey, hey! Make room!' The rhythm guitarist whisper-screamed awkwardly until the other cracked his eyes open and hummed in wonder. 'I'm fucking freezing'

'Mhm, I told you so' Olve replied playfully while semi-conscious. He moved a bit to give space, feeling the old bed springs crack when another body climbed in. 'All good?' He mumbled.

'Yeah' Kristian replied, grateful for the warmth and comfort that's been shared with him yet mildly embarrassed for the closeness. 'Don't you fucking dare try something stupid'

'Like what?' The band leader turned to face him with a mischievous grin.

'Don't touch me' The rhythm guitarist growled, setting the boundaries.

'Fine, fine, calm down. I wouldn't have touched you anyway' Olve confessed in defense.

Kristian only turned his back to him in hostility, keeping his silence. He heard the bassist sigh in defeat before murmuring a peaceful 'Night' and turning around too.

It wasn't like he wanted to be so vicious, most of the time he couldn't control his impulsive fits of childish anger, rendering everyone a victim to his inability to find peace in himself. Part of him hated being like that, part of him was proud of his well developed self-preservation instinct.

Whenever he could get a real insight on himself, even for a few seconds, he would feel embarrassed about his recalcitrant reactivity.

He liked Olve.

He didn't know the precise depth of his feelings for the other metalhead, but he liked how he was treated and he wouldn't want to lose that.

Maybe it's always been too late to pull away from this sickening, hypocritical, double-deal called ‘human connection’.

Maybe it was the time to retract his claws and fangs from the neck of his prey and start accommodating in his newly established entanglement. It didn't matter that he lied through a rotten mouth that no feelings were getting involved, he lied to make sure he would get what he wanted without the complications being truthful to Olve.

He knew he had the upper hand on their situation and he knew it was an easy game to play. After all, he was the one to set the rules.

---

At the godawful hour of 4 o'clock blue orbs cracked open.

The room was still as black as it could be while the alarm was ringing on the nightstand. He groaned, frustrated that he had to reach for the damn thing and stop it, but as soon as he tried to get up, he froze.

Arms were tightly wrapped around his waist, pulling him subconsciously into a warm chest while a face was softly breathing into his hair. Cheeks caught fire and his pulse picked up. He cursed in silence, deciding to pull himself up anyway and put an end to the beeping sound.

'Come on, get up!' He groaned at his still sleeping mate.

'Just 5 minutes' the bassist mumbled, turning around with his head into the pillow.

'Ugh, I'm not your fucking mother. Get up!' Kristian snatched the cushion away, earning a pitiful moan.

He knew that Olve had to get ready and leave immediately while he still had one more hour to nap before his ride to Fana.

Ultimately, the band leader unglued himself from the bed and geared up to start another miserable day in port.

'Please don't fucking leave my house unlocked when you leave' the bassist found himself imploring the rhythm guitarist while staying in the doorframe.

It was their luck that Olve had a copy of keys under the entryway rug for whenever he had to rely on the benevolence of someone else to lock his fucking door for him.

'Yeah, yeah. Just go' Kristian brushed him off impertinent as always, but mindful with what he had to do.

Once gone, the rhythm guitarist fell asleep again, unwittingly reaching out for an empty space. 

Chapter Text

February was closing up fast. The denouement was ambiguous, leaving Kristian with more questions than answers. Too many things happened in such a ridiculously short month, enough to last for the whole year. Maybe the worst had passed, but the winter wasn't over yet.

Olve was slowly catching up with his debts, not because he wanted to, of course, but because he finally understood that everybody was financially done with him. Although this problem hardly felt like a problem at all when he had the rhythm guitarist alongside him almost every night.

If the sky was looking bright and optimistic for some, it didn't mean that it was so for others. At home, Kristian's situation wasn't improving in the slightest. His mother's coldhearted regime hasn't changed since their last argument.

The new ordinary meant tolerating her youngest son like she would tolerate a house intruder that unfortunately happened to live under her roof. She turned her passenger lover into her new world, telling him everything that his son would've wanted to hear. Those trivial three words, so diabolical in nature, were chewing on him whenever his ears would unintentionally pick on them. It must be intentional, or at least that's what Kristian was thinking, enraged by how she was rubbing her superficial joy into his face.

Plans of merited revenge sank into the past, or rather drowned into it because he learned the old-fashioned way of coping with misery from his comrade.

The burning touch of hard liquor didn't suddenly become pleasant on his tongue, but he mastered the ability to swallow before his taste buds could revolt.

Olve wasn't Kristian's salvation, but he was the only person that the rhythm guitarist could trust with all of his heart even when he didn't want that. Nobody could ever get him and his internal disintegration the way that his best friend did because nobody was dealing with the rancid responsibility of being a fully grown man in the body of a child.

It didn't matter if he ended up with his head into the toilet, or falling right under the table. Incoherent words and double vision meant nothing as long as there would always be someone to pick him up and carry him home wherever home meant in the moment. It would often go both ways because Olve wasn't immune to getting hammered to the point of crawling in all fours into the woods in the dead of night, screaming like a banshee just to fuck with the unlucky people who lived nearby.

What sounded like wild weekend stories were actually happening on the busiest days of the week, forcing their friends to take a step back from the chaos.

After all, it was just the two of them. Always the two of them, enjoying the process of ruining everything that mattered and searching for comfort in all the wrong places. Always falling onto each other just to fill the empty spaces.

---

The car windows were pulled all the way down so every living soul within a radius of 3 kilometers was forced to hear the harsh vocals and the virtuoso soloing of 'Love Me Like a Reptile' by Motörhead.

Running down a lonesome road out of any locality at the obnoxious hour of 1 in the morning with cowboy cigarettes in their mouths and a bottle of moonshine at Kristian's feet, this was how a speedball must've felt like if they had the money and the right connections for it.

Worrying about driving without a license could only last until homemade vodka and an unhealthy dose adrenalin would kick into their bloodstream.

'Baby, you're a rattlesnake, you know the way I feel' the bassist was singing the lyrics by heart, living for today.

'I love cock rock'  the rhythm guitarist giggled drunkenly, a statement valid only for tonight.

'What did you say??' The band leader asked right when the car started to shake while driving over holes in the asphalt.

'I said I love cock-' Kristian cut himself short, convulsing in his seat as the other didn't slow down for a second.

Olve burst out into copious laughter at the priceless unfinished sentence.

'Ooh, confession time! Don't be shy, don't-' the bassist rambled while still roaring like a maniac.

'You motherfucker' the rhythm guitarist growled, blushing both from embarrassment and anger. 'You did it on purpose!'

'Yeah, Kris. I make these country roads as shitty as possible so you can blurt out to me your kinky secrets' the metalhead kept mocking, clearly in a great mood. 'But it's alright, I promise! We don't choose what we love in this world-ow!' He groaned in pain when an iron fist was thrown into his stomach.

'Just how you love talking shit, don't you?' Blue eyes squinted menacingly.

'I was just trying to be supportive' Olve murmured pitifully.

One hour later, they got back to Os, reeking of fuel, booze and nicotine, barely keeping balance on their feet and worn out.

Shaking off his old sneakers, Kristian headed straight to the bedroom.

'Are you taking my bed now? Is that what you do?' Olve asked loudly while stumbling on his way to his room.

'You invited me first' the rhythm guitarist replied from his spot in the middle of the mattress.

'Oh, yeah? And what gave you the impression that I'd do that again?' The bassist climbed in, kicking his mate's spread legs to claim the right side. 'Move along'

'That's my space, fuck off' Kristian mumbled annoyingly, not budging for a millimeter. 'Hey!' He shouted when the other shoved him aside like he wasn’t heavier than a sack of potatoes.

'There you go, fucker' the band leader smirked in triumph.

Frustrated and unable to understand the notion of sharing, the rhythm guitarist tried to push the bassist only to be shamefully pinned onto the bed.

'I see you're not done playing, are you?' A doubtful eyebrow was raised while still holding his bandmate's wrists firm in place.

'Let go, you dipshit' a low growl came out in response.

Olve only chuckled. 'You know, you're lucky I gotta wake up early, otherwise I would've played along'

'What the fuck is that supposed to mean??' The rhythm guitarist's blush was inevitable at the outrageous statement.

'Night, Kris' the band leader brushed him off, turned on his side and closed his tired eyes.

---

Anhedonia was going to be the end of him.

Every day was the same. Waking up, going to school, skipping or staying until the last period depending on how exhausted he would be, going home just to pass the time and heading south to escape his mother's crisis.

How ideal would it be not to migrate to another's person's door on a daily basis because there was almost no way in which he could cohabit with his obnoxious parent. It's not like his best friend minded to have him there all the time, but even with the bassist's separation anxiety indulging his habit, the indignity of being metaphorically homeless was pressing down on him.

Once again in his temporary residence, he took advantage of the fact that Olve went out to crack more wood for the stove and crawled inside his bed.

Resting with his eyes closed on an unwashed pillow, he could faintly hear the sound of footsteps in the hallway. He wouldn't have minded some sleep to come, although instead of a peaceful slumber a pair of icy-cold hands sneaked beneath his jumper, violating his serenity in the worst possible way.

'Fucking bastard!' Kristian shouted, jumping out of his zen. Thrashing, he was trying to break away from the grip of his laughing friend.

'You know I'm a silent killer' Olve giggled from behind his bandmate, tightening his hold. 'See if you can pull away now'

'I have a fucking knife on me, you moron!' Ruthless, blue eyes threatened.

'The knife is in your jacket at the entryway, smartass' the bassist cooled in triumph. 'What are you gonna do now?'

The rhythm guitarist groaned, ready to murder if he would break free but he knew there was no easy way out. The callous hands under his clothes moved to his sides, shamelessly squeezing his thin waist.

'You fucking-' but he cut him insult short as the bassist had the audacity to catch his sharp hips in his claws. His heart throbbed in his chest.

'What?' Olve purred into his ear, unbothered but not oblivious to his actions. 'Did I do something wrong?'

The band leader simply adored the game of dethroning Kristian of his spoiled brat title once in a blue moon. He was sure that he wouldn't have  had this amount of spunk and straightforwardness if he didn't know what his best friend was sexually capable of. Their brand-new agreement gave him a free pass to upgrade his own game of teasing.

The rhythm guitarist bit his lip in frustration before a faint moan could escape him, but miserably failed while being pressed tightly against Olve's body.

It's been so little since they sort-of hooked up and even less since they redefined their status yet there they were again, busting out with hormones, hungry for each other's touch. Maybe there was an ounce of bravery in his best friend, or maybe it was purely his luck, but the uninhibited gesture lit the rhythm guitarist up in fire like a match.

'Tsk, such a horny dog' Kristian cooed, dangerously.

'Are you trying to shame me?' The band leader chuckled. 'Good luck'

'No need to' was the simplest answer.

Brusque, the rhythm guitarist turned around, pushed the bassist on his back and straddled him.

'Shit' Olve interjected in surprise, caught right underneath a vicious wolf.

Kristian swallowed dryly as soon as he realized their positions, feeling how little by little, the flames of his boldness were fading. It was ridiculous. All it took was the feeling of fingertips caressing skin and clutching at the bones beneath it to make him take a shot. He mentally cursed the band leader for turning him on so easily and for being his most fatal weakness.

Chestnut brown eyes were locked on him eagerly while breathes were turning shallower by second, mirroring one another's anticipation for the culminating moment.

In a flash, Kristian lifted Olve's shirt up and unbuckled his belt.

Pulling the bassist's jeans down on his thighs, he couldn't help but feel both lost and ready to strike simultaneously. How uncanny, though. Jumping on his best mate like that. He doubted that even if this became an ordinary activity he would ever be able to get over the high strangeness.

He had no recollection of how he did it for the first time, but he could distinguish the ferocious force of the eros, persuading him into acting upon his feral desires.

The very idea of tasting something so prohibited and outrageous was exactly what turned him on in the first place. The fact that it was his best friend who he took advantage of only added more excitement into the equation, since he already had his predatory eyes more on Olve than on that German movie.

He knew it went both ways, recognizing the lustful glance of his bandmate. Lately, it became even more obvious.

The bassist longed to access the benefits and more.

It was all that Kristian needed to imagine to muster the courage to do it again.

How was it possible that the sensation of surrealism was clashing with the illusion of being in a dream, a fragment of fantasy that he had lived before? He gave a show once, but now, it was all different. There was no afternoon darkness to obstruct the general view and the details that would make everything significantly more embarrassing. Even his comrade was blushing madly and they didn't even do anything yet.

He knew that there was one way to deal with the dreadful self-awareness and urgent homosexuality and that was to just go straight for it.

Pulling the band leader's boxers down, eyes could finally linger on what he couldn't that time and there wasn't a single thing that he didn't like about the graphic landscape.

Olve was fighting between feeling awkward or more aroused for being exposed like that. He could feel a shift in the atmosphere as Kristian fingers curled around him, tentatively stroking his prize before lowering his mouth on it.

Orbs closed in bliss and lips parted slightly. He silently cursed the warm and wet cavity that engulfed him.

Soft faints parted as they timidly descended on the bassist's erection, feeling the strange but pleasant sensation of organic hardness on his tongue. The taste wasn't as awful as Kristian would've thought, reminding himself that the metalhead was forced to shower daily now. Sadly, it didn't feel less bizarre to give head again.

As explicit as the porno flicks were, he still didn't know much of what to do, but he went with the flow, sucking and licking the way he thought it would be the most pleasant, allowing his instincts to guide him through.

He could tell by the way in which Olve was holding his breath that he was also having a hard time acknowledging what he was experiencing. His bandmate's virgin rigidness made the rhythm guitarist smirk, his lips curving upwards as more courage found him.

The bassist sucked in a sharp breath while watching his best friend take his cock into his mouth, the second greatest scene of degeneracy being imprinted on his brain for the rest of his life. 'Fuck' he moaned, desperately every time those plump lips would slid past the head and down onto his length.

Kristian couldn't help but choke when he felt the firm muscle twitching on his tongue. Clumsily, he pulled out a few times to allow new oxygen into his lungs. He had absolutely no clue how those actresses could go up and down on it without needing constant air refill. It must be Odin's gift at play.

However, it didn't matter if he was following the right procedure or not because the bassist was fisting the bed sheets at every move he made, profusely lost in pleasure.

So restless and so vulnerable. If there was one thing that Kristian was born to, it was to be in control of the weak. He kept on sucking, trying his best to hide his teeth. Reaching for more was virtually impossible without asphyxiating himself, so he didn't push on it, choosing to flick his tongue over the head, making out with what he had.

'Kris..' Olve was mumbling, hardly holding himself from slamming his cock right into his best friend's throat.

The rhythm guitarist hummed in wonder, feeling his mate tremble underneath him. It was like he sent a shockwave through him. He could take advantage of that.

'God, you're so good'

It was all he needed to know in his life, all he was dying to obtain out of those who meant something for him. In that context, the praise went straight to his groin, making him throb in excitement.

'How good?' He asked in a thirsty manner, unplugging his swollen lips from Olve's erection for his own lecherous gratification.

'Just so fucking good' The band leader mumbled absentmindedly, endless electrification being read into his half lidded eyes. He could hardly resist anymore. 'I can't' fucking believe this is real'

But it was.

His brutally honest praises opened the doors to a sacred realm of emotional fulfilment as Kristian rapidly opened up his own pants. Stepping on his inhibitions for revealing himself on a sober mind, the urge was too strong to resist. He couldn't suppress the needy moan that came with the indulgence of touching his cock. Panting hard, while drooling onto his friend's testicles, he was jerking off like a mad man, completely forgetting about those intrusive eyes on him.

The end was near, he could feel it. The strange tingle that was extending through his shaft at every stroke was making him speed up.

Trying to control his air intake was futile as he gagged immediately as Olve pushed his cock further than Kristian was used to and came with a low groan. The unsolicited hot splatter inside his throat made the rhythm guitarist pull away in disgust, recalling just how vile the liquid tasted the first time.

'W-hat the f-uck?? Fucking ask for it first!'

Reddish cheeks, wet lips and a trace of cum hanging from his chin was yet another sublime mental photograph that the bassist would book in his memory. The anger and the mild humiliation on Kristian's face was what added vibrancy to the picture.

'Sorry' the band leader reflexively replied, failing to register anything but the blissful, post-culmination sensation taking over his body.

As his eyes regained focus, he spotted his bandmate's unfinished business poking out of his underwear.

'Oh, you haven't slime yet'

The notification was by far the worst, most embarrassing one that the bassist could say without thinking. It made the rhythm guitarist so self-aware of his pitiful situation that it ruined the mood. He could've brushed it off and asked for help to finish himself too only if it wouldn't render him pathetic and desperate. It was then that his pride stepped in.

'Fuck it. I'm done'

Without a second thought, he tucked his member in and zipped up his jeans.

'Wait, what??' Olve blurted out both amused and confused at the same time. 'For real?'

'Yeah, whatever' Kristian mumbled, hating the heat on his face and the fact that he gave up on his orgasm because of a stupid remark.

'Uh, alright' the band leader replied reluctantly, still trying to figure out if his friend was joking or not. But as soon as Kristian wiped his chin clean and pulled out a cigarette from his pocket, he knew it was over. 'I mean, I can close my eyes if you're shy or-'

'Don't need to. I'm good' The rhythm guitarist cut him off with a cold and clearly anger-suppressed tone.

The message was delivered, leaving the bassist wonder just what on earth had he done wrong while pulling his boxers back on. He was no clairvoyant and he didn't know what turned his comrade so abruptly and so indisputably from his journey to self-pleasure.

This wasn't something that he could've forecasted in his narrow vision of 'friends with benefits', but if one thing was certain, it was that his vindictive fellow would keep him accountable for whatever reason. Although maybe it wasn't too late to make up yet.

Lighting up his smoke, Kristian barely had time to take a drag when he was pushed back into the bed and pinned underneath a heavier body.

'What the hell are you-'

But before he could finish his sentence, a hand roughly undid his jeans and tugged down his boxers in one go.

'You love bitching and making everything about yourself, right? Here's your chance'

Arousal shot through his veins like an arrow at Olve's husky voice and dead-serious eyes. He didn't even blink while he grabbed his still hard cock and began masturbating again.

It was a jaw-dropping gesture that neither of them expected after they thought they were done. It was the harsh grip on his left wrist and the thrill of being caged that set Kristian over the edge in less than 15 seconds, it was the uncharacteristic desire of being put in his place that made him burst out all over himself like a precocious little boy.

'There you go' a naughty smirk crossed the bassist's lips after he witnessed the whole moment.

Olve did it, he himself had no idea how, but he did it. He switched their roles, evaded the guilt of having things uneven, made Kristian bite his serpent tongue and come under his glance.

He fucking loved that.

When his bandmate's wrist stopped moving, he could almost feel a second relief because he knew that if his approach didn't work, he was basically screwed. His innate inability to touch another man's junk and sleep well at night after that wasn't yet a known fact for the rhythm guitarist.

Their intimate play was a tricky one, for sure. One that he boldly agreed with without taking into consideration that he had to give back what the other was up to give. Although unnerved, he was confident in his creativity to dodge the bullets that were about to come.

What Kristian didn't know about couldn't hurt either one of them.

---

Out in the twilight glow, the zephyr was blowing through their hair while cigarette smoke was filling their abused lungs, slowing the arpeggios in their chests, but not the awkwardness of what they've done.

The silence was soothing but not so much.

It was insane. The unpredictable way in which their relationship progressed and the wicked jurisdictions that they willingly established to release hormonal tension. Totally fucking insane.

Being clear-minded and stress-free even for a few minutes never felt so good, it pushed the shame away, giving Kristian the self-confidence that he was meant to have.

'Another fucking day has passed'

Eventually, Olve broke the quietness with a mundane remark just to make sure there was no verbal acknowledgement of the previous half an hour.

'How many more?'

'How many more until what?'

'Until we hit big, get famous and start touring'

Kristian couldn't help but giggle.

'Do you have any fucking energy after being up since 5 am to play all night in a pub?'

'If I don’t, I have to find it. Life's a bitch, man, but I won't give up so easily. In fact, I'm gonna try to get us a gig anywhere as soon as possible. I don't care if I'll annoy the fuck out of every barman out there to talk with their bosses about how they miss on the greatest band from Bergen, but I will get what I want'

'And you call me a greedy asshole, huh?'

'At least my way is straightforward'

'And fucking stupid all of the time'

'Why have I thought that you'd be more reasonable with your balls empty?'

The rhythm guitarist almost froze while his best friend was snickering.

'I'm just joking, chill out' the band leader suggested.

He was surprised to see Kristian more timid than enraged about his comment. When he understood how much the comment weighed on his bandmate, he sighed.

'Get over it'

In a tranquil voice, the bassist encouraged. He wasn't good at consoling, but he was prepared to try.

Huh?' Kristian raised a skeptical eyebrow.

'Whatever you're thinking right now.. just get over it' Olve proposed with a lazy shrug.

The rhythm guitarist refrained from saying anything in return, put out what was left of his cigarette and chose to take the bassist's advice.

They stood out until the last ray of daylight decomposed on the tenebrous vault and the light of the houses nearby started to shine through their windows. They stood in the same stillness of waiting for one of them to do or say at least one thing from their never-ending diary of amorous contemplation, but it never happened.

When he ran out of time to waste, Kristian decided that it was time to go home. It wasn't like he had to be anywhere, but he liked the slight disappointment of departure on Olve's face too much to stay.

Chapter Text

Fingers were rapidly browsing through shiny vinyls as lazy eyes were looking for something fresh and new to make their visit to the local record store worth it. Twisted Sisters were playing faintly from the speaker, making Olve hum along the tune.

It wasn't long until he came across a real treasure.

'Did you find anything?'

Kristian asked, coming silently from behind, leaning slightly over his best friend’s shoulder.

'Dr. Feelgood by Mötley Crüe, but I've already got a copy at home' the bassist explained. ‘This bad boy is by far one of my favourite albums of all time’

'I swear to Odin, I will never understand how the hell you like both glam and black metal at the same time' the rhythm guitarist sighed dramatically.

'Well, everybody knows that smart people have diverse tastes in music' the band leader smirked and kept scrolling through more records.

'There must be an exception' Kristian teased.

'Hey! You listen to Mozard, you fucking prick' Olve counterattacked with a valid point.

'Tchaikovsky'

'Worse'

‘How on earth is that worse?’

‘You know the rule, if it’s not about death and gore or boobs and booze, then it’s useless’

It was then when he spotted Spiritual Healing by Death.

'Damn, check this out!' the bassist's eyes lit up at the cover.

'I've got this one actually' the rhythm guitarist replied as a matter of fact.

'No fucking way! It just came out this month' Olve turned to face his best friend in disbelief. 'Have you really got it?'

'Of course' the other metalhead cooed although his wolfish smile gave him away.

'Man, you're full of shit!' The band leader blurted out, pushing his giggling bandmate in the side for toying with him.

Truth be told, he liked it when Kristian would catch an upbeat mood that allowed him to be playful and feel content.

'I'm getting this one for myself'

'Huh?'

He looked up to see the rhythm guitarist holding a The Cure LP.

'Great, do you wanna get some Madonna and Sex Pistols too?' The bassist asked rhetorically.

'You can laugh for all I care but I'm buying this one' Kristian rolled his eyes and turned to take a look at the electronic section.

Olve followed curiously, getting his eyes on yet another rare jam.

'What is this?' Blue eyes squinted in reticence as he read the initials of KMFDM on the vinyl.

'Oh, that’s fucking sick' a wild grin grew on the band leader's face. ‘Padden showed them to me on the New Year party and I totally forgot about them but they were brutal’

It was then when the shop owner's voice cut their chat with the clue that he was about to close in 5 minutes. Thinking quickly, Olve grabbed a bunch of albums and went to the counter.

Out of the shop and into the merciless rain of early spring days, they found refuge under a tall building's roof and decided to wait until the shower eventually thinned out.

Keeping the new addition to their music collection safe and dry into his denim jacket was a mandatory task for the bassist.

In no time, the narrow streets of Bergen were devoid of people, everyone getting away from the powerful squall, leaving only the cars running through murky water. Watching the typical nature tantrum that their region was well-known for, Kristian got pulled back further into their temporary shelter. The small gesture didn't piss him off, but it made him blush knowing that someone didn't want him to get wet and cold.

Their shoes were already compromised but that was an old story. If they didn't catch pneumonia from strolling through the backwoods in harsher weather, it would be the biggest joke in history to get sick now.

Leaning against the icy brick wall behind him, Olve lit up a cigarette to make the time pass faster.

'Got something for me?' The bassist asked with the filter between his lips.

Rolling his eyes, Kristian handed him one of the soda cans that they stole earlier from a corner shop. 'Here'

Having the pockets of his cinnamon-brown leather jacket worn out was a massive advantage when it came to shoplifting for fun. Pulling everything that one could think of out of his coat was the rhythm guitarist's magic trick. A hunting knife, two lighters because one wasn't reliable enough, a pack of Kent, a wallet, two cans of Cola and a Snickers bar were just some of the regular commodities that he would carry around while still having enough room for more.

'I hate the rain' Olve boringly confessed, placing his chin on his bandmate's shoulder for support.

Being sluggish and oblivious to boundaries was just an excuse to get into Kristian's personal space more often. He liked the feeling of gently invading another one's territory.

The aroma of well-aged leather and fabric softener mingled with Kristian's sweet skin scent was what comfort and closure smelt like. Addiction was never a choice and neither was attraction. He hated to admit that if he could, he would love to breathe forever in the affinity they shared.

Whatever they had now was fulfilling in more ways than either one of them was aware of and Olve could tell by the fact that his bandmate didn't reject his occasional intrusiveness anymore. It could be the fact that Kristian literally gave up on caring about every annoying thing that the bassist did or he enjoyed the attention in silence.

Naturally, he wished it was the later option.

Still, the vivid memory of their most recent sexual interaction felt utterly unreal. Maybe he needed a girlfriend more than he would've ever imagined.

---

Back home where everything was metaphorically falling apart, unwanted company was awaiting.

Hearing the hushed voice of that unbearable man in the living room, Kristian considered for a second turning around and walking out, but the storm was too powerful to rebel against it and waiting for hours on end for a ride to Os was simply out of the question.

Admitting defeat wasn't easy, it was impossible. Allowing a stranger to feel comfortable in his own environment was a sign of weakness that he couldn't permit to display, therefore he switched his approach. Hardening his face with hatred, he passed through the hallway like a shadow hoping that no one would spot his presence. But of course, luck was never at his side.

'Oh, you returned' his mother started, acknowledging his existence. 'Come here so I can have a word with you'

His heart skipped a beat at the eerily calm voice in which she spoke and without thinking he obeyed.

'The principal called me today to tell me that you're been skipping again and your grades got even worse. What did we agree on last time?'

He registered her question but as soon as he locked eyes with her obnoxious lover, he felt himself flare up.

'Why is he here? Why are you asking me this with him here?' He threw the most relevant question, ignoring her completely.

'What do you mean by this?' She frowned, offended.' Sven is part of the family now-'

'Like hell he is' he cut her sharply and irrevocably. 'Why does he have to be here again? Why does he have to find out everything about me? About us?'

‘Helene-’ The man intervened with a pacifying tone, touching his mother's hand while emphasizing with her. The subtle gesture didn't escape unnoticed by those revengeful blue eyes.

'Fuck it'

He gave the verdict, leaving the warzone like a tornado, going straight to his room despite his name being called from behind.

'I don't understand what is going on with him. He didn’t use to be like this. What am I supposed to do now? I can't control him anymore'

'You tried your best, but maybe it's time to have a talk with his father'

Catching the last phrase, Kristian slammed the door shut.

How could she expose his private struggles to a mere guest in her life? To a person that will inevitably disappear sooner or later but will still possess redacted material of their personal life? How could she be so stupid and ignorant?

Betrayal. Hit after hit after hit.

Although it happened before, public humiliation was the lowest move she could pull on him. Thanks to her lover's imbecile suggestion, a new worry was growing inside his spine just when it seemed like his household situation couldn't get any worse.

She emotionally cheated on him time and again. She wasn't his anymore. His most beloved possession stopped being his own for a long, unforgivable time, or maybe she was never his at all.

How cruel, how perfidious.

He couldn't fill the void of belonging to no one. He couldn't survive this world’s atrocities as an orphan child grown prematurely, no matter how much he wanted to. He desperately needed to find a safe base, someone to care for him completely.

His mother had the blind assumption that in time, he would somehow learn to accept her new conventions and get over himself, but needless to say it would never happen.

He was made to resist corrosion. It was a blessing and a curse.

---

Somewhere, there was a sunset behind those thick clouds, one that they would never see, but its insipid reflection. Pale rozé was fading into cosmic blue while the silver sphere was rising in the sky, announcing the close of day.

'I fucking hate everything and everyone so much'

Sitting on a rotten log in an untouched greenland, Kristian chuckled to himself in bitterness while taking a deep drag of nicotine. He despised that swallowing vaporous poison felt like breathing in air and nothing more, so he reached for the half-empty bottle of moonshine again.

Dragging his best friend out into the woods again after another domestic devastation has become his most predictable behaviour of all times.

'Including me?' Olve grinned, daring to ask.

'Especially you' the rhythm guitarist barked back, harsher than he wanted to, grimacing in repulsion at the spirituous taste.

'You're a fucking mess, man' the bassist let him know, watching his bandmate take another gulp of alcohol before deciding to join. 'Pass it here'

Kristian obeyed without a second thought, handing his friend the bottle.

'I wish I could just fucking disappear.. I'm tired of this.. everything is fucking futile'

His heart skipped a beat when he felt an arm wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him closer to the figure beside him.

'Hey, chill out, will you?'

He could physically feel the grin in that purr against his ear and the warm ethanol in Olve's breath. He pulled away harshly, annoyed for being toyed with in his worst state of mind.

'Fuck off'

'For what? I'm just trying to console you'

He couldn't tell how much of the bassist's words were indeed truthful and how much was his usual drunken mockery but his thoughts were immediately cut by a hand placed on his sweater right where his heart should be.

'Damn, at this pace you're gonna give yourself a heart attack' the band leader commented, his eyes softening in the process while his tone remained relatively cocky.

The gentle touch petrified Kristian. He slowly brought his hand over the bassist's, feeling the rough and dry skin beneath his pads. He gazed inside those deep, dark eyes searching again for the one pull that he knew he would never find, then he threw his best friend's hand away, hating to be right.

'Awh, come on! Don't be like that'

Olve's tone was irking him, but he liked it when his best friend insisted about getting under his skin. The fact that he would never stop trying to understand the rhythm guitarist and comfort him at his worst was what persuaded Kristian to let his guard down time and again.

'Told you that there's more in life than your damn family. Don't fucking let them take everything from you, alright?' The band leader turned more somber, meaning his words.

'Tsk, yeah, right. As if there's anything left from me after all those years' the other metalhead rolled his eyes and took another gulp of disgusting alcohol to numb his emotions.

'It there wasn't, then I wouldn't be sitting here with you right now' Olve simply explained. 'You know I'm having the best fun with you'

The blunt gratification struck him right in the chest. He bit the inner of his cheek at hearing out loud something that it's been somehow implied but not vocalized until now.

'You're just saying that'

Playing the game of hard conviction came naturally as he clang for the opportunity to regain self-worth.

'Nah, it's damn true' the bassist assured, thirstily taking the bottle for himself. 'I know it sucks, I really do.. but when nothing else works out, stop giving a fuck it's the real way out'

'What makes you think that you know best?' Kristian asked, leaning closer to his best friend like a feline who would give a single chance to be pet and nothing more.

'I don't, but there are things that I want more than I want to feel sorry for myself all day long' the band leader mumbled, suddenly aware of the distance between them.

'What kind of things?'

The flirtatious utterance that Kristian’s lips produced masked as innocent inquiry could never fool Olve. Even when the homemade vodka was starting to affect his judgement, there was no doubt that the rhythm guitarist didn't know exactly what he was doing.

'To live my dream, to play live in front of an audience, to get rich and wasted every night, to keep being stupid with you' the bassist enumerated, unfiltered as ever. 'I'm not modest, I want many things that I just started to see how great they are and I'm doing a horrible job at keeping myself from wanting them all of the time'

Kristian smirked, loving to hear the other mumble while looking deeply at him, aroused and intoxicated. Now, it was two of them.

‘That’s vague and too general’ he cooed. 'Just say what's on your mind' then, he softly bit his plush lips just to torment his comrade even more.

Maybe he could never find that romantic courage in Olve's copper-coloured orbs, but he could always find the erotic one waiting to take over.

Right now, it was good enough for him.

'I want you' the bassist whispered, thoughtlessly and impatiently.

'How do you want me?' Kristian kept getting closer, breathing into the band leader's face, placing his cold hand on his thigh.

'On your knees'

The explicit instruction went straight to the rhythm guitarist's cock. There was something so hopelessly alluring in Olve being so sure of what he wanted and expressing it clearly.

Grinning like the drunken devil that he was, Kristian complied, dropping onto his knees as soon as the bassist raised up.

Throwing the empty bottle in a bush and taking a step forward, the band leader couldn't believe just how easily his best friend submitted. So uncharacteristic, so fucking welcomed. The visual imbalance of their statuses was fueling their hidden perversions, allowing a much primal side of both to come out to the surface.

Deep blue eyes were piercing through him with unmeasured desire. The bassist could tell that there wasn't much rationality going on behind them at that moment, not that it was any different from his lustful gaze either.

From his perspective, it was the most enchanting scene that he had ever seen, making his boldness kick in.

Raising his hand, Olve brought his thumb to Kristian's face and tentatively stroked his flustered cheek. It wasn't fair just how hypnotizing those neptunic orbs were, getting him lost in them completely.

Slowly, he moved his digit towards that sinful mouth to feel a pair of tender lips partying at his touch.

'Shit'

He quietly cursed under his breath as he pushed his thumb into the wet warmth, having his best friend sucking on it. The rhythm guitarist's seduction was simply insane, making the band leader lose it right then and there. Without any warning, he pulled his thumb out and frantically unbuckled his belt.

Kristian bit his lip in anticipation, never once cutting their eye contact, not so secretly enjoying the rushed mess that he just turned the bassist into. Their foolery was raw and dirty but perhaps that was the best part of it all. He loved to see that cock drop right in front of his face. Knowing that he was sick in the head was exactly what was turning him on to no end.

Contrary to their previous two times, there was no uncertainty and no awkwardness right now.

Olve brought his hand to the back of Kristian's head, pulling him urgently but not forcefully towards his aching erection. Eyes closed in sterling bliss and a needy moan slipped out as soon as he felt the rhythm guitarist slide his plump folds past his head.

'God'

The sensation was exclusively divine, a piece of heaven in the shape of a working mouth. He would have never thought that such an instrument of conflict could be restored to its prime-assigned role.

The rhythm guitarist was sloppily sucking the bassist's cock, running his tongue along his length and breathing in rounds.

The task was undeniably demanding but so it was his need for control and power. Being the ultimate definition of instant pleasure for his best friend, the only one that could give him the high that no illicit substance could ever do, the most valuable person of his life was the title that he will proudly wear from now on.

Fingers curled around Kristian's roots, damned be his irresistible torture. The rhythm guitarist playfully hummed around Olve's member, pleased to know that he was doing a great job.

It wasn't long until he pulled back for oxygen, a thin trail of spit connecting his swollen lips to the band leader's throbbing erection.

'God damn, Kris' The bassist chuckled, allowing his bandmate to take a deep breath. 'You really like going down when you're angry, don't you?'

'Can you really complain?' The rhythm guitarist asked sarcastically, wiping his chin before going for it again.

The bassist sucked in a sharp breath and groaned. 'Not in a million, just make sure you don't stop'

And with that being said, Olve caught hold of his bandmate's head again and thrusted his hips forward in immense eagerness. As a counter effect, the other pushed back in a fit of coughs.

'A-re you fucking s-tupid?!' Blue eyes gazed murderously at his friend.

'Can't help it. You're too damn good' The bassist confessed, intoxicated and excited. 'Ever since you jumped on me for the first time, I wanted to fuck that cunty mouth of yours so bad'

Kristian's pulse picked up, in complete awe for the lustful admission. He could feel himself getting so impossibly hard in his pants for the crude wish that he was exposed to.

'You said you're up to help a brother in need, mh?' Olve cooed, slipping nonchalantly through his friend's lips. 'Just stay still'

Although reluctant, the rhythm guitarist didn't protest. He felt a slight grip on his hair before he got choked again, the bassist's cock conquering his throat for a second time. The urge to pull away was too strong but the band leader was holding him even stronger in place. Helplessly, he caught the bassist by his thighs, digging into his jeans with his nails in an attempt to make him stop, but the other just wouldn't budge.

Olve was slightly pulling back just to shove himself right into that hot cavity again and again, wanting nothing more than to come before Kristian would miserably asphyxiate.

Drool was dropping from the rhythm guitarist's chin onto his knees and the ground while groaning muffedly in maximum discomfort due to pulmonary pressure. Tears were starting to form in the corners of his eyes as they were shut tight waiting for the worst to happen when he suddenly inhaled deeply through his nostrils. Overwhelmed to feel fresh air again, but shocked to unlock a hidden passage to a new dimension of possibilities, he saved himself from suffocation.

Using just his nose wasn't as simple as he thought it would be because the bassist's hips were moving more frantically by second. He knew he was close.

In contrast, he manages to open up his pants and free his own hardness.

Olve watched in satisfaction his best friend madly masturbating while swallowing around his cock. He adored watching Kristian this deprived and desperate, moaning and panting with his mouth full.

'See? It wasn't that hard to get used to it' the band leader cooed while pushing himself all the way in the back of his comrade's throat. 'You're taking it so fucking well'

Kristian only whined in response, trying to breathe and jerk himself off at the same time.

'Fuck, I'm gonna come' the bassist groaned, warning the other in the last minute before Kristian plucked his lips off him.

Olve shoot some of his seed on his best friend's reddened cheeks synchronizing with the other's imminent orgasm. Blue eyes closed in reverie and exhaustion. It was then he realized how numb his knees and jaws had become. The sun had set and there was barely any daylight left.

'Hey, you good?'

Kristian looked up to see Olve, zipping up his pants while looking at him mildly concerned. He nodded before he could voice a weak 'Yeah'.

He didn't expect the bassist to pull him up on his legs right after, but he did and gave him a pack of napkins to clean himself from the mess they made. It felt embarrassing to wipe the licentious evidence off his face, but the darkness offered him an ounce of privacy, if there was any.

'Did I go too far?'

The question was valid and the fact that Olve was mindful for once made Kristian change his mind regarding his answer.

'No, it's fine'

'Oh, uh, great' the bassist awkwardly smiled.

Even if succinct and clumsy, the aftercare was very welcomed by the rhythm guitarist, eliminating some of the residual anxiety of giving head again.

A weird sentiment installed in his heart as if he did something altruistic and karma compensated him in the way that it should. There was no regret torturing him slowly, if anything he turned more responsive to his best friend than he should've.

'Do you wanna go to your place and listen to those records we bought?'

'Fuck yeah, it's settled'

He liked the way in which Olve always replied to his wishes and this time it was no exception. 

Chapter Text

'Where did you get that scar from?'

'Mh?'

Kristian hummed in wonder, lying on Olve's unmade bed with his guitar in his lap, waiting for the time to pass so they could gather up with Tore and Jan and go to the studio together.

'Your scar' the bassist pointed to his own chin while coming out of the bathroom with his hair still dripping from the after-work shower. 'How did you get that?'

'I gave it myself' the rhythm guitarist lied nonchalantly to portray himself in a dangerous light.

'Bullshit' the band leader called out immediately. 'You bitch about every time you scratch your face when you shave those three hairs of yours. There’s no way' he smirked at his blunt point.

Kristian frowned, but lastly revealed the truth. 'I had a ski accident when I was a kid. I went downhill on a slope and I hit a massive jump right in the middle of it. I was coming down fast and I didn't have enough time to avoid it so I flew over it and went face first in the handle of my ski pole.

'Damn, that's fucking brutal' the bassist raised his eyebrows in awe, didn't expecting that kind of answer. 'So you broke your jaw'

'I didn't even know what happened afterwards. All I know is that my brother came to me first and he called for help when he saw blood everywhere. I had a big hole in my face and my jaw was crushed in five places' Kristian kept dwelling into the visceral memory. 'My mother and I took a taxi to the nearest hospital and when we arrived, the doctors immediately put me in surgery. I only had local anesthesia and obviously it hurt like hell. They put seven stitches in place and wrapped my head in a tight bandage saying that it should heal just fine . Of course, it didn't' he noted bitterly.

'That's sick' Olve commented. 'What happened after?'

'The recovery was fucking long and painful. I couldn't even talk or eat properly for months. Two days after the accident, my mother and I went home by train. We met with my brother and father at the train station briefly before we left the resort. I felt really bad for ruining their vacation' the rhythm guitarist spilled the last detail before he could shut up.

'It's not your fault, you shouldn't have felt bad' the bassist frowned in disbelief.

Kristian only chuckled nervously.

There was no point in arguing on such an awkward subject. He knew he always messed up.

However, there were many more things to say regarding the injury that sent him straight to the hospital, things that he never voiced out because of their outlandish nature, the most profound being his near death experience and out of body awakening. A bizarre trip to the spirit world or a vivid hallucination. It marked him deeply, making him reconsider the material world in which he was living and his meaning on earth.

His typical attraction to mysticism made him believe that he somehow earned another chance to be alive, that he was reborn beyond his physical body and chosen to be there for a higher purpose that was yet to be discovered.

It was a grandiose delusion, part of his narcissistic defenses, a egotistical charade meant to stop him from mourning the only likelihood of dying and finally evading the pain. It all took place in the same year in which his parents got divorced. Part of him wanted to tell his best friend about the proportions of that grizzly event, but the implications were too personal and the emotional vulnerability in which he would find himself after would be fatal. So, he kept his mouth shut about crucial aspects.

'..yeah, it's in the past now'

The detachment in his voice didn't go unnoticed even if it wasn’t pointed out.

'Well, it's a cool mark. I've always wanted to ask about this since I saw you for the first time. It makes you look tough, I like that' Olve grinned, intentionally feeding his bandmate's self esteem.

He fancied the way Kristian's lips shily curved upwards into a semi smug and semi awkward smile. He didn't lie in his compliment, but he wanted to discreetly test the strange uplifting effect that he seemed to have on his best friend's lately. Whenever he would throw a brusque remark of admiration, the rhythm guitarist would visibly turn needy for more.

He rendered Kristian's new-found clinginess intriguing, even attractive to a certain degree. He doubted that his bandmate was capable of such fragility until he saw it manifest. His discovery was indeed an interesting one.

The rhythm guitarist didn't move a muscle when the band leader threw himself in bed, turning on his side to face him. Despite all of the vacant space that the mattress offered, Olve still preferred to crawl nearer to Kristian.

His best friend shifted slightly closer so their bodies were touching. He not only grew used to the physical contact, but he secretly yearned for more.

'What do you wanna do now?'

Inattentive brown eyes caught a pair of daydreaming blue ones as the same old question was given. 

'Whatever you want' Kristian shrugged. Any other time in which the band leader would ask him that, he would always come up with a practical suggestion and dictate what he wanted to do but not lately. He wanted to see what the other might come up with.

Olve hummed lazily, purring like a cat in his best friend's ears. 'Well, we could do something until we leave.. but we would be late and it would be too weird afterwards' he thought out loud.

'Yeah..'

Kristian could feel his pulse picking up at the idea of fooling around for a couple of minutes before leaving. Then, his heart sank as soon as the bassist jumped out of bed to get himself ready for their weekly rehearsal.

---

'Looks like we're got another thing coming, brothers, because we're gonna play in Garage this weekend'

Olve proudly announced the news as soon as they arrived at the studio.

'Dude, for real?' Tore asked in awe. 'And you kept that a secret until we got here??'

'Damn, it's been ages' Jan emphasized as if a miracle had happened.

'Best things in life come when you expect the least' the bassist smugly replied. 'But yeah, Kris and I went there yesterday, gave them a copy of our album and convinced them to have a gig on Friday. Easy as that'

Realistically, it didn't go like that but the rhythm guitarist was the only one who knew that his friend didn't leave the damn bar until he got what he wanted. It was their dumb luck that the new location didn't have a major notoriety in the city yet and that they were regular clients, so the chances for that approval weren't exactly gigantic but they weren't so slim either.

Assisting the band leader in his sporadic promotion maneuver and insufferable insistence was indeed embarrassing but tolerable because at least it wasn't in vain.

Chaotically rambling about exciting details such as the track list order, the lead guitarist could help but suggest using some of the fresher songs that they've been working on lately.

'How about we play Forced to be Lost too?' Tore asked hopefully.

'Nah, it's a bit too rough. We gotta work a bit more on that one. Besides, Abduction of Limbs, Incantation and Devoured Carcass are literally our best tracks. That's our unholy trinity, we can't skip any of these at any show' Olve brushed him off nonchalantly as ever.

'You kind of regret not including them in the LP, don't you?' Jan joked, giving the bassist a meaningful look.

'Is it that obvious?' The band leader giggled.

'The Day Of Judgement is also great' Kristian added.

'Alright, let's take it from the start' Olve proposed, ready to set the record straight. ‘Which one comes first?’

It was common for them to take a while to find the best option for everyone. Jan thought that repeating the same track list from their first gig was common sense while Tore wanted to add the material that he came up with and Olve needed to make sure that his favourite songs were always included. Contrary to his fussy bandmates, Kristian didn't have any specifications regarding anything but he was there as an advocate for his best friend and his pretentious demands.

'So, why is Forced to be Lost not good enough? I'm not insisting or anything, just asking' Tore ran a nervous hand through his hair, clearly bothered.

'It's not that it's not good enough, it's just not evil enough' the bassist admitted honestly.

The lead guitarist rolled his eyes before replying. 'We can't sound exactly like Mayhem, dude. I mean-'

'Yeah, I know but I want to get as close as possible while having my own style. Agh, it's so hard to explain. We sound too much like death metal and not enough like black metal. That’s always the issue. Black metal has the darkest sound ever. We’re too much in the middle' the band leader gestured as he described his ideas.

'Well, this is our original sound. We don't sound like any other band. I thought that's what we're supposed to do, you know?' Tore confessed, more disappointed rather than angry.

The bassist sighed impatiently before concluding. 'Fine, fine, we'll count in that one too' 

'No, man. We don't have to if it irks you that much-' the other metalhead was cut short again.

'No, it's cool, it’s on the list. Whatever. Let's move on, alright?'

As they did, the rhythm guitarist could see the frustration bubbling inside Tore. He thought the jam sounded great and he could understand the feeling. After all, he worked hard on his song to impress his friends only to be told that it's not acceptable in Olve’s standard. He didn't miss the sympathetic look that the drummer gave the lead guitarist that showed that they've been there before and there was no point in trying to change the bassist’s mind.

It was times like this in which Olve's leadership privilege was hard to swallow. If things didn't go his way, the band leader would turn the situation in a way in which he was the one suffering after the unfairness. Aware or not of his blatant manipulation, Kristian recognized the fraudulent tactic because he himself was using it all the time.

If Olve's friends were able to ‘close their eyes’ at probably never being able to recover all the pocket cash that they lost on him, they weren't so forgiving when it came to the things that directly screamed freeloader to their faces.

Regardless of the not-so-subtle inconvenience, they started rehearsing like any other time for almost four hours until they finally hit their exhaustion button. One hour of actual repetitions and three of doing anything else.

The clique broke off right after they were done because Jan had a date with the girl that he met in Jørn's friend group and Tore was dispirited by the refusal.

'Good luck' Olve smirked, shamelessly pulling out a pack of condoms from his leather jacket. 'Need one to be safe?'

'Jeez, man' the drummer snorted at the metalhead's ridiculous bluntness, but then, he smiled smugly. 'I'm good. I've got my own in my pocket'.

‘There you go’ the bassist beat him on the shoulder.

Kristian frowned in disgust and blushed simultaneously, completely forgetting that the bassist was ready to get his dick wet since forever. Not gonna happen. He thought for himself, soothing his virgin worries.

'See you later' the lead guitarist saluted quietly, putting his guitar case over his shoulder, ready to go.

'See ya' Olve replied back, oblivious as always

'Bye, man' Jan bade goodbye before leaving too.

'Have fun' Kristian wished, not really meaning it.

Left alone but unbothered as the night was still young, the rhythm guitarist finally turned his attention to the bassist.

'Why do you loser carry condoms with you all the time? It makes you look pathetic and I hardly think you can get even more-'

'Cause I'm gonna bang, bang you. I'll shoot you down with my love gun, baby!' the band leader threw his hand over Kristian’s shoulders and sang right into his ear one of the worst songs in rock history.

'My gods' the rhythm guitarist groaned, pulled away and started walking faster, horrified to see a pedestrian turn their head to them.

The band leader just laughed, catching up with his bandmate with no problem. 'And we go one, two, three, four. When midnight comes I'll be at your door-'

'Fucking stop it-'

'Five, six, seven, eight. Oh, oh, I just can't wait-'

'Stop-'

This time, Kristian cut his own protests short with giggles. He hated to admit that it was unavoidable due to the silly lyrics and his best friend's hilarious American voice impression.

‘Well, it’s a sticky situation if you don’t have one when you need it’ Olve grinned as if he knew better.  

The rhythm guitarist sighed tiredly. 'I can't believe you told Tore that his song wasn't dark enough for you but this is literally the kind of shit that you listen to every single day'

'Wait, hold on! His song was great but it needs adjustments, that's all. And what's wrong with Kiss?? You know that if Paul Stanley and Gene Simmons didn't exist, I would have never gotten into rock and metal in the first place-'

'I would love to think that if that happened, you would've been more normal in the head-'

'Define normality' Olve demanded while the rhythm guitarist rolled his eyes and ignored the question. 'No, seriously. Define normality since the last movie we watched at my place. Come on'

'Poor choice of movie'

'It turned you on, though'

Kristian groaned, flushing while the band leader smirked in triumph.

They kept strolling down the streets without intention or direction, just chatting and getting on each other's nerves. If their sardonic and cynical arguments could be considered as flirting, it wouldn't have made any difference from how they interacted before, minus the deeply inappropriate remarks that were relatively newer. Those were part of the notice that Kristian wanted anyway.

It wasn't a conscious decision, it just happened like many things between them naturally evolved. He made a home out of his best friend, a safe place to hide during hardship, a personalized sanctuary for all of his mischievous fantasies.

He mellowed out for him.

What a scary thought.

He stopped being truly bothered by trivial things that bothered him before like the hard rock, macho-clownery tunes that the bassist loved so much to the little touches and gestures that were meant to annoy him to no end. Now, he was uninterruptedly enjoying their intimacy, even searching for comfort and attention every time they were alone together. Now, he was playing 'hard to get' because he knew that Olve was a chaser, otherwise the bassist wouldn't have put up with his cattish attitude for so long.

Everything in Kristian’s life took such a bizarre turn, but hiding his growing feelings under the umbrella of 'friends with benefits' wasn't something that concerned him yet.

'So, what are you up for tonight?' The bassist asked as they were passing through an empty park.

'I'm going home. I got school tomorrow and my mother fucking threatens me to get my father here if I fail the year' Kristian replied sincerely.

'And are you really failing or..?' A curious eyebrow was raised.

'I think so. My grades are quite bad but my absences are worse' the rhythm guitarist freely admitted.

'Damn, for real?' The band leader chuckled.

'Yeah, I have to do something about it' Kristian confessed.

'So, you’re back to being a prep school boy?'

'Fuck no, I think about stealing the list of attendance from my teachers. If they don't have any records as evidence, they can't fail me. They can't really fail anyone after that. So, practically I will be a hero but nobody has to find out about that'

'Risky, but clever. Wish I would've thought about that when I was in school'

'Yeah, well, let's hope it will work out, otherwise I'll fucking kill myself before my father has the chance to see me again'

Olve snickered although not so amused or fond of the idea. He stopped when his bandmate stopped, anticipating his departure. 'Alright, man. You know best. Take care'

'Yeah, bye' Kristian saluted before turning around and walking away.

The last comment caught his interest in the best way. That piece of concern reinforced the fact he was being cared for, it made him crack a smile.

---

Thursday and Friday passed effortlessly with nothing important happening. Lastly, the weekend came and brought the gig that they've been longing for since last year.

Meeting up at Jan’s place in the afternoon, they packed their instruments in his father's car and went to Garage to prepare for their second moment to shine.

As the washed out sun went down, people started to gather while they were setting up their gear. Once done, they were left with a bit of liberty to repeat some riffs before the gig started, only to find themselves with two bandmates missing.

---

'Mh, fuck'

A delicious moan slipped past Olve's lips as he was standing against the cold wall tiles while holding his best friend's silky hair in one hand.

Closing the restroom stall and locking the plastic door with the bassist's belt, they had exactly 8 minutes until they had to start the show, so they thought to make the most of it.

'Quiet' Kristian ordered, giving the band leader those endlessly seductive but dead serious eyes that sent a shiver down his spine.

Olve submissively bit his tongue l as the rhythm guitarist opened his mouth around his cock again, taking him in that ecstatic dimension.

Ignoring the filth and the rigidness of the floor in which his knees were pressing, Kristian took advantage of the moment to re-experience the thrill of engaging in promiscuous behaviour in a public area.

The forest felt open and offered them more privacy than a random bathroom cabin ever could, but the imminent danger was just too exciting. The sound of faint music and people walking in and out of the restroom was a reality check for both of them continuously keeping them aware of their surroundings.

He didn't even bother to tell the other metalhead about his naughty plan, he simply dragged him into the restroom when nobody was looking, shoved him into a stall and launched on him like a thirsty hooker. Surprising Olve was part of his own satisfaction. The bassist didn't even protest, he allowed him to do whatever he wanted in the worst possible time.

Kristian loved to have his hair held, caressed and pulled along with the sheer pleasure that was circulating through the bassist's body. He adored the muffled noises and the quiet panting, the slight blush and the half lidded eyes. He fancied the total control and irresistible domination that he had over the other to such an animalistic level. But he knew he couldn't have the band leader compliant forever, in fact it was only a matter of time until he would start to rock his hips and to have his own way with him.

Ironically, the very idea of having his face fucked again turned him on harder.

Digging his nails into Olve's fine thighs, Kristian liked to push his luck and test his friend's self control. The bassist responded accordingly, tightening his fist on the rhythm guitarist's roots. It made Kristian hum in pleasure with his mouth full.

'You like playing, you bastard'

The remark was welcomed in that scenario, fueling their arousal.

'As much as I fucking love to seeing you squat before me, we gotta hurry' the band leader whispered.

'Then fucking hurry already' Kristian cooed back, mockingly, but gagged as soon as the other pushed himself deep inside his throat. 'You son of a bitch' he insulted as soon as the bassist pulled out.

'Sorry, I like you taking your time and all, but I kind of like this better' Olve replied before thrusting himself in again, holding his bandmate in place.

Still choking, the rhymes guitarist tried to control his air intake by using his nostrils. It took time to adjust, time that neither one of them had at that moment as the band leader was using his mouth at his own discretion to finish and finally leave.

Drool was falling from his chin with every thrust back and forth, eyes were watering and cheeks were burning red, yet he was still holding tight, enjoying his best friend's raw maneuvering.

'Fuck, I'm close' Olve mumbled through rushed breathes. 'I'm getting close'

Reflexively, he locked Kristian's mouth on him while he came hard, forcing his bandmate to swallow everything until the last drop.

The viscous hotness that erupted on his tongue and in the back of his throat as he was unable to pull away, made the rhythm guitarist gag and almost throw up.

'Shit' the bassist cursed when his friend snatched away from him, choking and spitting into the toilet. 'Are you good?' He asked before a more important matter crossed his mind. 'Fuck, we're late. We gotta go'

'Wait-' the rhythm guitarist argued.

'We don't have any more time. I'll make it even later, I promise'

Kristian was still trying to regulate his breathing when he was dragged up on his numb feet and pulled out of the stall. Fortunately, there was nobody inside the bathroom when they came out with their cheeks still flustered.

'Where the hell have you been?? I was looking for you everywhere!' Jan snapped as soon as he saw his two fugitive bandmates approaching.

'Out for a smoke' Olve quickly lied, grabbing his bass guitar and fixing the strap over his shoulder.

'15 minutes for a smoke?' Tore asked bewildered.

You gotta be kidding me' The drummer added, not buying the excuse.

'We're here now. All's good, let's get this show going!'

And with that being said, they finally stepped forward into the light.

'Hell is breaking loose tonight, Bergen!' Abbath impatiently grabbed the microphone and yelled out. 'We're Old Funeral, the most extreme band that you've ever heard of and we're here to tear this place down!'

The audience screamed back and whistled in excitement.

Somehow it didn't feel like it was their second show and this could be attributed to the bassist's everlasting confidence. His natural talent to keep people entertained and engaged despite his band's actual musical skills was just what made everyone see them as much greater than they were. It was the desired effect.

Once Padden started beating into his drums, both guitars went off simultaneously, the vibrating consequence of the overdrive blasting through the speakers.

Abbath's fingers started switching positions on the fretboard while growling and screaming the lyrics of Persecuted by Death into the microphone. Tore stepped closer, headbanging wildly along the tune while Count Grishnackh remained in his dark corner of comfort.

Brief pauses to stretch their fingers, joke and chit-chat with the public were taken after every track. They were joyous to know that some of the people that saw them play live for the first time, remembered about them and came again when they saw the flyers in town. 

Being known even by a bunch of generic teenagers like them made the night spectacular, inflating their wish to slowly grow bigger and more relevant in the metal scene. Abbath knew that if two separate occasions to gain notoriety and have fun came along, there must be a third one waiting and a forth one and so on.

Two hours later, they finished performing their last song and probably their all-time best one, Abduction of Limbs.

Sweat was dripping down their foreheads as clumps of hair were sticking to their hot faces after going ballistic towards the end.

'So, I hope you had a fucking good time with us, or a horrible one if you put it this way' Abbath giggled before switching to his deep growling voice and theatrical wide eyes. 'Be sure you'll hear us again in the future!'

Playing his erratic character was second nature, the figurative costume that he would put on whenever he found himself in front of an audience was unironically the full spectrum of his personality. Being himself with a vengeance was his best way of making himself likable, unlike his best friend who would only hide behind a mask to be able to keep people around.

Kristian only looked a few times at the crowd and at his partner in crime who was keeping the atmosphere going. Part of him wanted to live in Olve's perspective, directly receiving the high energy and the enthusiasm from the spectators. He knew he could never do that so he had to find other ways to impress people, more invulnerable ways to be noticed.

Bottles opened for the afterparty and expectedly, there was interest from a couple of fans to talk and drink with them at the table. It was like living a deja vu. The same thing happened after his first gig. Although shy, Kristian turned more articulated after only two beers. The night maintained a good mood for everyone.

Wasted eyes were searching for another pair in split moments of unawareness from other people, but they never caught their attention.

Olve was busy chugging and having fun, rambling and bragging about all kinds of dumb things for the sake of impressing minds that were already too inebriated to remember a single word from what he said.

How unjust.

Just when Kristian thought that he had his thrill both in the bathroom at the verge of being too late for the show where nothing compared to being finally recognized, he realized that he was dead wrong in his assumption. The untamed hunger for being the main focus for the bassist returned, or rather persisted in the absence of selfish stimulations.

He didn’t care about drowning himself in alcohol anymore, even when his tolerance remained a fucking joke, because there was something inside him that didn’t sit well with him at all. Shot after shot, he forgot to count while still believing that he was in control of his actions.

When the time for the pub to close came around, he then registered that the dimly lit chamber was spinning with him.

'Hey, we gotta go' Tore announced, half concerned, half amused, shaking his shoulder. 'Dude, Kris-'

'Yeah, fine. Let's go' the rhythm guitarist mumbled over his friend, getting up from the table, only to lose balance for a second.

'Are you sure you can go?' Jan giggled.

'Of course I do' Kristian slurred back.

Kristian couldn't tell when they packed up their equipment and hopped inside the drummer's car, but he found himself in the backseat, leaning on Olve like a lover. 

The fact that Jan was the only one sober was their lucky card. The drummer knew that after Harald’s departure he had to take the role of the ‘responsible’ friend and he just hated that.

On his way back to his insipid neighborhood, Kristian got what he wanted for a few precious minutes. It was now that he discovered how utterly starved of tenderness he truly was. Maybe the band leader wasn't what he wanted in the first place, but certainly he was what he needed in the long run. 

Chapter Text

The Sunday after the show started early with nausea punching him in the gut, reminding Kristian of his impudent decision.

Alcohol was the filthiest fucking drug.

He stood in bed all day like a vegetable, tired but unable to sleep any more until he heard his mother leave the house when her ephemeral lover came to take her out on another rendezvous.

Bare feet were dragged into the bathroom in search of anything that might kill his awful hangover. Painkillers always came in handy although he was quickly running out of them, being the only one constantly using them and lending them to his best friend in need.

Forced to skip both the breakfast and lunch, he felt confident enough to take a good look at himself in the mirror to check his developmental progress.

Visual changes were slight and never good enough.

His hair grew longer, the edges getting past his clavicle bones, but his facial structure stayed the same. Lifting up his shirt, his third rib started to surface beneath his pale skin.

It wasn't quite what he wanted to obtain, in fact, it was far from the ideal physique that a supposedly strong man should have. He wasn't overly impressed by his own bones getting more defined. He didn't want to be emaciated and fragile, all he craved was control.

Dreams of gaining a bit of muscle and an ounce of real self-esteem were put on hiatus for so long that he had to summon them from the depths of his mind to mentally visualize his idealistic form.

Maybe one day.

It was his most wishful thought in almost all of the areas of his life. One day he will be pleased with himself entirely.

Back to factual matters, he ditched the entrancing appeal of the reflecting surface and went straight to his mother's bedroom.

Opening up the drawer that he knew she kept the cash for 'hard times' that would never come, he took as much as he needed to supply himself with cigarettes and to buy a ticket to Os and back.

The habit of purloining became more regular since she stopped giving him pocket money in hopes that he would hopefully turn more obedient towards her but little did she know that he already started stealing from her house.

It was his blessing that she never bothered to check the funds that she keeps hidden. If he felt remorseful at first for paying for almost all the production of his band's first album, now he felt nothing taking a few bucks daily. The overall value of his household, the hard work and the financial possessions of his single parent were going down at a drastic pace.

Shoving his refilled wallet in his leather jacket, he went to grab his shoes and leave this place more devoid of life than it already was.

---

It was quite unnerving, but the empty locus in his heart was screaming for substance and what kind of substance wasn’t exactly a wild guess.

His urge for emotional nutrition was related to Olve. Everything that he was experiencing in the last couple of months was related to his best friend directly or not, but now his intrinsic struggle felt harder than ever. Had he ever found the courage to admit to himself that if the bassist stopped being a soothing constant in his life anymore, he would've dropped dead in less than a second because there was absolutely no reason to be still breathing otherwise.

The godawful dependence that he tried to dodge all along was the honey trap that he eventually fell into. But how could he not? Somebody was there for him when no one was, somebody saw his potential of becoming the person that he always wanted to be. He still had time to be what he said he was from the very beginning.

There was a lot to improve in his musical techniques, skills and artistic vision, but there was hope for him and Olve was the only one who saw all of this beforehand.

His heart was throbbing with every kilometer he was getting further from Bergen and closer to Bjørnafjorden.

---

'You got yourself totally shit-faced after the gig. What happened? I thought you didn't like drinking to oblivion'

The notification was meant to sound more teasing and less serious but somewhere in the middle Olve changed this tone.

'I don't, but I guess I had too much fun' Kristian shrugged, making it ambiguous to tell if his answer was sarcastic or not. It was his favourite way of communicating.

The band leader chuckled, amused.

Deafening music was on, to fill the funeral silence of another hopeless household and so was the television that was left on mute on the only Swedish channel just to make the band leader feel less forsaken by his family. Empty cans of beer and plastic wrappers were laying on the coffee table for weeks, making it harder to be picked and thrown out just like the rest of the trash collected around them.

Lounging on the dirty couch, bright eyes were discreetly checking out his bandmate next to him.

Comfortably spread legs wearing the same old blue jeans since the first of January, a black jumper with holes in its collar tucked inside the denim and a slim hair tie on his wrist in case his mane got too greasy. A defiant face that desperately needed to make up for the lack of sleep in the morning yet unconventionally attractive nevertheless.

Every time the rhythm guitarist would wonder with his glance longer than he should, the filter of infatuation would get thicker and tougher to break.

'What are you looking at?'

'Huh?'

His trail of adoring thoughts ended when hearing his romantic target's semi-curious voice.

'You got your eyes on me, I'm not blind' Olve smirked, turning his full attention to his bandmate. 'Huh, and you call me obvious'

'I'm not-I wasn't looking at you!' The joke made him fluster. He hated being caught in the act. 'Why are you looking at me-'

'Yeah, yeah. I get it. I'm irresistible' the bassist only teased harder, enjoying the other's triggered awkwardness.

'Piss of' Kristian growled.

'Make me' The band leader dared, leaning closer to his friend.

The rhythm guitarist swallowed thickly at how cunning those dark orbs gazed at him and how near their lips were to touch.

'What's up now? The cat got your tongue?' Olve cooed, his hot breath hitting Kristian's burning cheeks. 'Oh, right. I owe you something'

The intimate moment crumbled when the bassist pulled back. It would've been too good to lean in and capture a kiss. Never breaking eye contact, the rhythm guitarist nodded with indignation for something more than a gap in his mate's memory.

'You know, if you're so damn good with that mouth of yours, you can use it to say that you're here for the payback'

That was one of the last reasons why Kristian was there, but he couldn't negate having that in mind for the whole time at home and on the bus ride.

Already excited by having his privacy tentatively invaded and knowing that there was nothing else that he could get otherwise, he proceeded to win the only prize available.

'Perhaps I am' he admitted some of his intentions with enough confidence. 'It's good that you remembered, I wouldn't have let you get away without compensation'

'Oh, you say you didn't enjoy yourself enough in the bathroom?' Olve purred, playing along but refrain himself from taking the first step.

The bassist felt like mentally kicking himself for recalling out loud his Saturday night unpaid credit.  He could easily keep the shameless flirt forever but when it came to acting on it, he instantly felt blocked by his internalized homophobia.

There was one thing about Kristian going down on him, freely and wildly, and there was completely another thing about him doing the same. To put it simply, it was impossible to reciprocate.

The rhythm guitarist bit his lip as if holding back to say something so perverted and genuine he might regret. Instead, he caught a hold on the band leader's sweater and pulled his body on top of him.

'Touch me'

The command made Olve's heart sink as he was directly forced to face his worst fear.

Kristian was lying spread on the couch with a flustered face and a pair of eyes blinded by lust and anticipation. The bassist loved this sight, everything about it was screaming to take more and give little.

There must be a way to make things easier for him.

Pulling up Kristian's navy blue jumper, pristine white skin was revealed. He hungrily grabbed his hips and squeezed them, earning a soft moan from his best friend. He liked the shape of his body, especially the smallness of his waist. He could ignore the angular shoulders that would give away Kristian's masculinity to focus on what was truly turning him on. The plump lips and the soft, luscious hair, the long eyelashes and the high pitched moans.

He could fool himself as much as he wanted that the one underneath him was of the opposite sex, but he could never deny the mortifying existence of another hard cock pressed hard against his own.

To say it felt uncomfortable was a great understatement. If he managed to get away one time by making Kristian reach orgasm without having to actually touch him, he doubted that this time he would be that lucky again. It was then, when his bandmate began to rub on him through their jeans that Olve immediately withdrew.

'Don't fucking make me beg' the rhythm guitarist demanded, unknown of his best friend's real motive for apprehension.

Unbuttoning his mate's jeans, the band leader realized there was no turning back and he had to bear through it.

Kristian whimpered in pleasure when his boxers were pulled down, exposing him to the coldness of the room. He felt callous fingers touching the center of his chest, tracing down his torso until they stopped abruptly at his belly button. The sheer excitement of feeling somebody else's hands on him was making his heart detonate inside his ribcage, overpowering the anxiety of being vulnerable. Eyes closed in ecstasy when he sensed an unsure grip on his erection. It was like the bassist was also trying to get accustomed to it. He couldn't blame his hesitation when his whole body was electrified by this new sensation.

Olve simply couldn't believe his hands at the moment, so he tried his best to ignore them and to concentrate on his best friend's feminine features instead, disconnecting himself from the unfolding reality. It wasn't an easy task since he could feel the other throb in his grip, getting more impatient by minute. Dark eyes instantly shifted to a serene face lost in pleasure to find heroism to continue.

Kristian was beautiful in an atypical way that he could never describe anyone else. His elegant characteristics were confusing him, fooling him sometimes.

'Harder' the rhythm guitarist moaned, an ounce of frustration lacing his order.

How cute.

The bassist thought. He obeyed, regretting it, moving his wrist up and down on his bandmate's cock as if it was his own. In retrospect, he knew it felt good. Applying pressure on the right spots, calibrating his strokes and keeping the rhythm constant as if it was his own member, he enjoyed seeing Kristian begin to squirm under his magic touch.

'F-uck'

There came the vocal confirmation of his skills. Overwhelmed by the intensity of being slowly milked by his unrequited crush, the rhythm guitarist closed his legs, trying not to finish too soon.

'Don't' Olve stopped from his task to pull Kristian's knees apart. 'Keep them open'

The firm request went straight to the rhythm guitarist's cock, adding extra layers of eagerness. He secretly liked the other's assertiveness whenever it showed up. Not having his way immediately only prolonged his lascivious fantasy.

'Don't stop' he bit his lip when those fingers curled around the base once again, giving him an unrushed but long stroke. He couldn't even pleasure himself the way the band leader was, therefore he wished the moment to never end.

'And what if I do so?' Olve teased, hardly feeling more in his element after 5 minutes of jerking off another guy but cocky enough to keep playing their promiscuous game. 'What are you gonna do, huh?

'Don't you dare' Kristian threatened superficially.

'Damn, you look so needy right now' the band leader noted, speeding up his wrist movements just to see the other whimper in response. 'How did I get you like that?'

'I'm close' the rhythm guitarist whispered.

Olve would lie if he said he didn't get a rise out of sexuality tormenting his bandmate. He liked too much Kristian's responsiveness combined with his avaricious requests colliding with the ultimate necessity to reach his orgasm. In other words, it felt nice to have some kind of power over that smug bastard.

Maybe it was mutual, maybe that was what the rhythm guitarist was experiencing too when he was on his knees. There was no feeling of helplessness. In fact, that was the moment in which Kristian was in total control. 

Now, he got it. He could tell that was the real thrill.

Although different, they shared a commonality.

The band leader highly doubted that he would ever grow desensitized to maneuvering someone else's cock, but he thought that there was a chance to minimize the mental inconvenience and maximize his own erotic benefit.

Without saying a word, he ceased the chase again, took a seat on the couch next to his comrade, opened up his jeans and brought Kristian's mouth to his semi-flaccid member.

'What the fuck-' the rhythm guitarist tried to argue without much chance.

'I’m getting bored' the bassist groaned, giving himself a lazy stroke to get more invested. 'Relax, I'm not leaving you like that. I thought that you could work a bit on keeping me going, you know?'

'That's no fucking payback-' Kristian bit back.

'I said I will take care of you, alright?' The band leader replied, solidifying his intention. He pulled his bandmate's hair behind his ear and caressed his cheek with his thumb in an almost loving manner.

Desperate enough to be in the center of Olve's attention again Kristian silently submitted, lowering his mouth on his best friend's erection.

'Mmh, fuck' The bassist groaned, allowing his head to hit the couch.

He could forget about everything in the world if it wasn't for the sound of eternal indignation that the other made. He went back to his initial chore and grabbed Kristian's junk.

Painfully hard and waiting, the rhythm guitarist felt relief when the friction returned. Twitching in Olve's hand while Olve was twitching inside his mouth was so deliciously devious and so blatantly pornographic, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. It made him pitifully moan with his mouth full, quietly begging the bassist to finish him already.

'Is that good?' A smirk crossed the band leader's lips, noticing his bandmate's returned restlessness. 'Keep sucking' he suggested just as dependent as the other.

Rosy folds were sliding up and down on the bassist's length trying to keep up with his best friend's strokes, feeling the pressure building inside him until he reached his climax.

Olve kept wanking Kristian through his orgasm, pleased to make a convulsing mess out of his comrade but disturbed by his own handwork. It didn't take much until he also came, announcing the rhythm guitarist right before shooting his seed but to his own astonishment, his friend didn't pull away like he would've normally.

'God damn, man' the bassist groaned, literally melted on the couch.

Equally out of breath and utterly done, Kristian drew back. He saw the band leader let go of his fading erection but just when he thought they were through, Olve brought his sperm-splattered fingers to his mouth.

Attentively eyeing the bassist, he timidly parted his swollen lips to allow a gentle encroachment.

'It's not that bad, is it?' The band leader asked with cunning serenity in his voice, aiming to change his bandmate's perception while having his digits slowly sucked on. He gradually advanced beyond acceptable limits once again.

Kristian could taste himself on his tongue and it wasn't any more pleasant than tasting the other, but the dirty nature of the gesture was undeniably arousing even after his culmination. With no rush, he kept licking and swallowing the viscous mess that Olve was wiping from his exposed stomach until it was gone.

'You're just like a cat, you know?' The bassist chuckled soft and lazily. 'You cleaned yourself up'

Even if he wanted to be mad at his comrade's intense greed, he couldn't. Not when somebody was looking at him with such warmth in their eyes. The more refined gentleness he was receiving the more thirsty he became. His hunger only grew while he was being fed.

Tranquility successfully installed without shame or regret, at least for one of them.

They couldn't deny that going back and forth until they settled on how they wanted to finish was frustrating, but the lack of sexual experience and self restrictions were still leading the way.

The death metal tune was still going off in the background with nobody actively listening. The white noise of contentment was ringing louder in their brains than the sound of electric guitars.

Kristian didn't even register when Olve got up and went to get himself a beer until he heard a can being open and then he saw his friend coming out of the kitchen.

'Want some?' The bassist asked after taking the first gulp.

'Yeah, sure' the rhythm guitarist replied while zipping up his jeans.

The demi sweet taste of malted grains was ten thousand times worse than cum but he drank it to enjoy the mental numbness for a little longer.

'Do you wanna go somewhere?'

The bassist suggested, already grabbing his denim jacket from the armchair.

'Where to?'

'I don't know, somewhere new I guess'

'Get the car'

'Bitchy even on a Sunday'

'Watch out'

'I'm watching out all the time when you're around'

He liked that. The smooth advances disguised as sharp comments. It was their thing, part of the chemistry they owned together. Yet, Kristian wanted more.

How selfish had he become to want to own a person day and night?

Taking on their muddy shoes, what was left of the beer and the car keys, they left the house in disarray.

---

The road was empty as it's always been, no trace of a living thing whatsoever, just the sight of tall conifers and fauna everywhere around. The radio was on, in and out of signal due to the lack of antennas in the countryside.

Kristian noticed Olve's unusual silence during the ride and couldn't help but feel urged to ask.

'Are you good, loser?' Bright blue eyes turned from the window to his best friend's profile. 'Did you forget the lyrics of your favourite song?'

The bassist chuckled at the rhythm guitarist's rare attempts at humour. He wished they happened more often. 'Thought you hated my singing voice'

'It's by far the worst I've ever heard, but your screaming voice is somehow fine. I'll give you that' Kristian admitted in a dramatic tone.

'Wow, I'm honoured' the band leader replied accordingly. 'All's fine. I was just thinking'

'Oh, that's new'

'Yeah, hard to believe, right?'

'I don’t. That’s why I'm asking. So, what is it that you're thinking about?'

The bassist just shrugged nonchalantly. 'Nothing special, just the band and stuff. Maybe we should start recording more songs' he lied to keep his true motive hidden. He couldn't tell the other that he felt repulsed after having to sexuality compensate him.

He really meant it when he said he didn't swing that way, but he also adored having someone to suck him off whenever he wanted to without a fuss. Only if he could have grasped the implicit complications from the very beginning.

'Maybe' the rhythm guitarist hummed in agreement.

---

The moon was out ruling over the landscape, glowing piercingly on an early evening of March.

They left the car on the side of a random road to walk down the steep land towards a narrow fjord.

At day, it would've been a nice place to explore while at night they were limited by dense darkness. Still, the quietness was consoling. It was Kristian's call to get closer to the water and enjoy the serenity of untamed wilderness. Olve naturally followed along.

'Are you cold? You're shaking like a fish'

The bassist interrupted his bandmate's thoughts with a certain observation.

'I'm fine' the rhythm guitarist lied, feeling the chill but savoring the mesmerizing beauty of nature in gloom.

'Do you want my jacket?' The band leader asked, seeing straight through the other's falsity.

'Fuck no, I'm good like that-' Embarrassed, Kristian protested only to have Olve's jacket tossed on his shoulders.

The warm material that embraced him felt like a plaster on his heart. As loud as the awkwardness was in his head, the sheer comfort of being taken care of was ten times more sonorous.

'Better?' The bassist smirked smugly, winning the argument. 'Awh, come on! Don't turn your back to me now' he laughed at Kristian's predictable behaviour. He knew the gesture was silently appreciated.

Back in the passenger seat and behind the wheel, they turned around on the dirt road and headed towards civilization.

Olve hadn't asked for his coat back yet, making Kristian somehow hopeful that he could keep it a bit longer.

The faint scent of nicotine and post-winter crisp was delighting the rhythm guitarist's senses. It was the closest thing he could have that mimicked the bassist's arms wrapped around him. The mental image made him flush while the night's obscurity was providing him privacy.

The bassist noticed the faint blush being present more often on his bandmate's face. He confidentially enjoyed being the culprit for Kristian's latest emotional eruptions.

The sight was endearing as many things about his comrade turned out to be except for one solemn turn off.

---

It got close to 10 pm when they parked the station wagon inside the garage.

'I don't want to go home'

The rhythm guitarist thought out loud. He treasured his time in the company of his most devoted friend and even more when the time was pressing hard on him.

'Then stay the night' Olve suggested, shrugging just to make himself seem more indifferent.

'I can't' Kristian sighed. 'If I stay over too many nights she will start complaining about it and I'm already on the brink of getting in serious trouble..'

'Your father again?'

The rhythm guitarist just nodded. He couldn't stand how weak he was when it came to the first tyrant in his life. Tired to live in fear and loathing, he hated when his greatest susceptibility was out in the open. Even without judgement, he still couldn't stand himself for it.

What was it about engaging in sporadic sexual behaviour that would always render him unnaturally sentimental afterwards?

The band leader chuckled to himself before opening his mouth.

'You know, what's funny about you is that-'

'I don't want to fucking hear it'

He cut the bassist off before he had a chance to confirm Kristian's fragility towards his father in the form of a dumb joke.

'Hey, you don't even know what I wanted to say'

'I'm pretty sure I do'

'No, you don't'

Kristian rolled his eyes for the last time before taking the jacket off and handing it to the band leader. 'Takk' he murmured, mildly embarrassed.

'No problem' Olve replied as his friend turned to leave once again. 'Be safe, alright?'

'Yeah' the rhythm guitarist confirmed before opening the door and heading to the bus station.

Chapter Text

'Mh, got something to prove, Vikernes?'

A lustful moan was drawn from Olve when Kristian's lips went past his predetermined limit on the bassist's erection.

It wasn't the length that gave him troubles, but the girth and when mixed with his best friend's prideful and overly confident attitude, it made it harder not to sink his teeth in as a gesture of complete indignation.

Although, truth be told, he was indeed trying to establish a point for the band leader that he was the absolute source of pleasure in his life and to himself that he could be just as proficient as those German porn actresses. Whenever his own ego got involved, he had to come on top one way or another.

'Holy shit'

The bassist cursed under the spell of scandalous carnality when he saw his bandmate reaching the base of his cock at his own will.

He raised a hand to gently pull Kristian's soft hair out of his face to ease his job and to take a good look at his flustered face. The sight was almost angelic in a warped and hypersexual manner. Two pools of deep blue gazing back at him, sharpened with seduction but begging for compliments.

'You're so fucking good. I swear I'm gonna lose it'

Olve wasn't lying, he whispered the words of praise while getting lost in Kristian's hypnotic orbs.

The rhythm guitarist was slightly pulling back before going for more, still learning to control his nasal breathing until it would eventually become an automatic reflex. Naturally, he leaned on the hand that was showing him affection. It both turned him on and comforted him.

Just to impress, he tried to keep still when the band leader's cock reached the back of his throat and maintain the grace of not choking for as much as he could. Progress was undeniable. It fueled him with self-assurance until Olve started rocking his hips.

Losing his patience was exactly what Kristian was waiting for from the band leader. He felt his caramel coloured mane being gripped into a fist to firmly keep him in place while the other was shoving himself in, thrusting his cock like a maniac, eager to explode. Frowning at the slight abuse and shutting his eyes tight, the rhythm guitarist took every centimeter in. It was a strange feeling to shut down his brain for a moment, to allow another person to intensively invade him and use him for his own satisfaction.

He didn't mind the bassist's erotic avarice. How could he if he was doing the exact same thing but from a different perspective?

If one thing was for certain, it was that a friend in need was a friend indeed.

With fingers clenched on the band leader's thighs, Kristian held tightly. His jaw was starting to ache for being open for so long but he knew that his bandmate was getting closer to the end. He could feel him throbbing on his tongue and he could taste the salt of his precum. He knew just how indispensable he was in that moment for the bassist's release.

A few more frantic pushes and it was over. Kristian swallowed the hot splash down immediately not to gag and vomit as having his throat fucked would almost always bring his lunch up to his esophagus. Tiny tears were forming at the edge of his eyes but never threatened to fall. It was all a matter of time for him to turn down all the signs of physical weakness.

When Olve pulled out, he finally gasped for fresh air.

How much the bassist loved to see him lick his lips clean as if after some kind of treat. It would've been too good to end their session there, but the band leader couldn’t get away that easily.

'Come here'

Kristian gladly obeyed, lying down on his back on the ruffled bed sheets, at the mercy of the figure that climbed on top of him.

Having both of his wrists caught in a handcuff-like grip, he softly whined when his jeans were unbothered and pulled down together with his underwear.

Being sexuality dominated was the only type of oppression that he allowed. There was something so disturbingly alluring about being held like a hostage and teased until he couldn't take it anymore. He never fit the role of submission, but he liked toying with the concept as long as he had the power to escape it whenever he wanted to. The trust that he put in Olve was vital because without it, he would have never shown that side of him that was more docile and malleable.

The band leader spat in his right hand before curling his digits around the rhythm guitarist's neglected hardness. It was then when a pitiful moan slipped past Kristian's lips, making his pitiful position known.

'Kinda needy, aren't you?' The bassist mocked. It was this type of interaction that turned both of them on beyond belief.

'Just fucking do it' Kristian groaned, frustrated but excited.

'Do what?' The other played dumb, tightening his grip but never moving a millimeter.

'Touch me' The rhythm guitarist breathed out with entitlement.

Olve gave in, giving his bandmate the remedy that he was waiting for. He blocked the notion of his hand action to enjoy the colorful expressions on his best friend's face. It was the only way in which he could do it and not hate himself afterwards. It didn't work all the time, but it was a practical strategy after all. As long as Kristian couldn't trace the subtle indignation in his eyes, everything was good in the world.

Speeding up his wrist movement, the rhythm guitarist's spine curved deliciously in pleasure, his chest touching Olve's chest through their shirts.

The body shivering underneath him was just perfect. A thin built and long limbs inclined to look more elegant than the typical male anatomy. The significant lack of hair on his body was also a mesmerizing bonus for what the bassist was searching for. The uncanny confusion was captivating. The bassist's brain and instincts would only push him to see what he wanted to see in his bandmate, regardless of what the reality was. He couldn't stop, he simply couldn't break himself from his safe illusion.

'F-aster' Kristian managed to murmur while panting hotly.

The band leader felt his hands trying to break free either out of desperation to touch himself or as a role-play move. Either way, it didn't matter. He constricted his hold to feed Kristian his own fantasy of helplessness and continued to jerk him off at his uncharitable pace.

'Come on!' The rhythm guitarist cried in anguish, earning a grin of satisfaction out of his best friend. He was getting close, so close that it felt crucial to speed up.

'You're too used to ordering shit all the time. How about you ask nicely, huh?' The band leader hummed, intentionally slowing down.

There was no doubt that he adored Kristian's little tantrums.

'Fuck' The rhythm guitarist moaned, pushing his hips up in a futile attempt to maintain the cadence. He bit his lip and swallowed down his pride to whisper the shameful word. 'Please'

'Mh? I didn't hear you. What did you say?' The smirk on the bassist's lips stretched wider, forever impressed by his accomplishment.

'Please' Kristian breathed out. 'I want to fucking come'

'Oh, you want to fucking come already? Are you sure?'

The derisive tone was both thrilling and infuriating to no end, but Kristian just nodded impatiently.

'Go on and fucking come. What's stopping you?'

With one last sardonic question being thrown, Olve proceeded to wank his best friend beyond the edge, enjoying the obscene symphony that was coming out of Kristian's mouth.

Turned into a whining mess in need for immediate release, he felt the pressure building and building until everything went blank. A shortcut thought his brain, a brusque shockwave of dopamine, a moment in which time froze. Unceremoniously, he burst out onto his stomach and shirt.

The blissful eruption ended too quickly, bringing him back to the dirty mattress on which he was shamelessly spread.

Weakly, he whimpered at the overstimulation that he was still bearing with when strokes slowed down unrushedly. When Olve finally stopped, he closed his eyes in exhaustion.

'I'm so fucking done' Kristian admitted lazily, unable to move a muscle.

'Yeah, me too' the band leader agreed without a doubt.

'But it felt good' The rhythm guitarist cooed, unable to hide the truth with his brain turned into mush.

'It felt awesome' the bassist confirmed right away.

One blue orb cracked open when he felt the weight on the bed lift. He watched the band leader go and get a towel for them to clean up.

'Gods, you're such a fucking tease' Kristian stated as he slowly got up in a sitting position, careful with the sticky mess on him.

'Oh, as if you're not the one who wants to be edged all the time' Olve bit back with a smug smile.

'Piss off' the rhythm guitarist blushed and locked away.

'Awh, I'm not shaming you. I'm just laying out facts' the bassist stated, pretending to hand his bandmate the towel before snatching it back.

'Give it here' Kristian growled, too tired for fuckeries.

'Not so fast. What's the magic word?' The band leader asked, practically pushing his luck. 'You said it for the second time in your life not even 5 minutes ago. I'm sure you can say it again-'

'Give me that fucking towel or I'll set your stupid Kiss cards on fire' deep blue eyes squinted menacingly.

'You have no fucking soul, man' Olve admitted defeat and obeyed.

Outrageous ultimatums and sharp insults that weren't to be taken seriously, they constructed Kristian's unconventional way of showing endearment. Olve had no problem with them, learning how to read the cryptic messages in almost all of their conversations and distinguish between real intimidations and daily bravado. But the rhythm guitarist didn't like his own aggressiveness at times even if it came out as a joke, it still bothered him that there was no way in which he could communicate his feelings other than being unreasonably antagonistic.

He never thought that automatism would be his biggest handicap in liking someone.

'Fancy a drink or two tonight?'

The rhythm guitarist snapped out of his thinking process when asked directly. He sighed. 'You know you've got a man-sized predictability, do you?'

'Could be? But I've got nothing to lose' Olve gave off a cocky smile.

Unfortunately, Kristian could never get tired of his silly antics.

'Fine, but you're paying for yourself tonight'

'No problem, you can leave it all on me. I just received my cash today'

And with that being said, they got dressed, went out and caught a ride straight to Bergen's downtown.

---

One month and a half had passed, dragging them into the lukewarm territory of mid April. A lot of things happened but nothing too drastic, considering that drastic meant absolutely terrible in their jargon.

It was lately that the weather truly started to mellow, making it possible for less layers of clothes to be worn. It felt reviving for both of them to feel the seasonal breeze onto their faces and not be cut by it anymore.

Since their show at Garage, two more gigs took place. 

It seemed like the local metal scene took quite an interest in them, facilitating their luck to appear again on a small indoors stage. The experience wasn't 'living the dream' yet, but they were finally on the right track. If Olve could've turned isolated occasions of playing live into a full-time activity, he would've quit his job in the port without a second thought, but until then he needed money to survive.

Paying for electricity, water and other domestic utilities wasn't the bassist's ideal way of spending his salary, but he quickly learned to ‘make compromises’ in order to keep enjoying his nightlife in miscellaneous bars.

The days in which he would solely rely on Kristian's fat wallet were gone since now the rhythm leader had to steal from his own household to go places or buy drinks, therefore the band leader had to contribute more like the decent person that he never was.

It will get back to normal, he kept telling himself that like a prayer every time he had to buy the first round.

It was expected for Olve's alcohol addiction to progress now that he had a constant income and more worries on his shoulders than ever before, but it was still a novelty that Kristian also joined his bad habit. The rhythm guitarist was drinking just to put on pause the chaos in which he was living. Hating to pour booze down his throat on a daily basis now didn't stop him from doing so. It was his self-prescribed medication, or at least the bassist made it seem like it.

It was their thing to get stupidly wasted every night in a row and regret everything the very next day and as long as they were doing it as a team, there was no way in which either one of them could end the cycle. What Tore and Jan called a full-blown dependency, looked like affection for Kristian and liquid harmony for Olve.

All in all, being wasted was better than being sober for various reasons.

As the rhythm guitarist's grades continued to drop and absences kept accumulating, he proceeded to act on his plan and steal the grade book from the staff room to delete his truancy records.

It wasn't easy to find the perfect opportunity to apply his scheme, but he eventually managed to pick the lock of the staff room after the classes were over, take the document and disappear without a trace. Needless to say, everyone was shocked the following morning. The teachers went ballistic, incriminating their worst students including Kristian who just played dumb but secretly enjoyed the masquerade due to his established safety.

He knew that everyone including his classmates were highly suspecting him but no one, absolutely no one had any physical proof that he actually did it. 

Olve just laughed when his bandmate started bragging about it, finding the scenario purely comedic and maybe a bit inspirational also. The rhythm guitarist fancied the short-lived admiration coming from his best friend, rendering his whole ordeal even more worth it.

Their hectic hookups turned more and more frequent as they navigated past the most awkward stages of intimacy and into a space of regularity. Times of overthinking about self-awareness and insecurities were long replaced by minutes of raw, animalistic pleasure, turning them oblivious to everything around them but their genitals.

Eventually, Kristian felt conformable with the receiving role in which he was, having his vital needs attended on a daily basis by his best friend. He could feel himself falling harder and harder for Olve despite his undeniable flaws and defects.

---

Lowlights and dark ambience, the ever cold dug-in-stone interior of Hulen was raising goosebumps on Kristian's arms. Soundwaves of speed metal were echoing through the cavern, together with energetic chatter and spontaneous bursts of laughter.

The barman served his regular clients two glasses of Jim and Sprite. The buzz that came with bourbon whiskey and sweetly-sour soda kickstarted the binge tonight.

'There's one way to celebrate payday' Olve grinned, taking a sip of his drink.

'And there's one way to celebrate the next day and the day after' Kristian insinuated, tasting his cocktail before lighting up a cigarette.

'Life's meant to be enjoyable, man. If yours has no flavour, you can always add some-ow!' the bassist winked but whined when he felt his leg being kicked under the bar counter.

The rhythm guitarist huffed, delivering his message with his subtle attack.

'Truth hurts, right?' was the band leader’s comeback, catching his best friend's leg in revenge.

'Cut it off' Kristian ordered, trying to pull his calf free. 'You're in public, for fuck sake'

'Oh, do you wanna go somewhere more private?' Olve proposed teasingly.

The rhythm guitarist just rolled his eyes, unimpressed as ever.

'What? You think I'm joking?' The band leader replied, faking surprise.

'Ugh, you can't be serious. We just got off one fucking hour ago'

'So what? I'm up for round two'

'Buy me another drink'

'I mean, if that's how you want it-'

'No! Jeez'

Kristian snorted, amused at his best friend's typical goofiness, but then he gave the joke some thought.

'Wait, do you really want to do something?' He asked in a quieter voice even if it was impossible for anyone to hear their conversation.

'Would you be up to?' A daring eyebrow went up in question.

'Uh, sure' the rhythm guitarist shrugged, although felt reluctant.

'So you want to' Olve added in a persuasive manner.

'Only if you want to'

Although available for a quick go to the bathroom, Kristian measured his agreement not to seem too eager about it, but then his heart sank.

'Nah, I was just messing with you'

The bassist shook his head in negation, casually drowning the rest of his cocktail in one go.

That was the exact reason why Kristian couldn't take Olve's words seriously at all . He would've done it again if his mate truly wanted to, but he couldn't make it that obvious that he could drop on his knees at any given time. He didn't want the bassist to figure out how much of an easy prey he had become because of his amorous feelings.

The signals that he was receiving were mingled. Olve's nonconformist acts of caring were effortless to read but so was his hesitation when it came with going further. It kind of seemed that in a way, the band leader wanted them to remain the classic definition of 'friends with benefits' but he also found it hard to cut a precise line from where the said benefits ended and where real romance began.

There was no way in which the rhythm guitarist could put himself in his best friend's perspective and understand exactly where he stood in their hormonal-driven agreement.

If Olve simply saw him as a fuck buddy and nothing more, then so be it. Kristian would have to win him. He thought about it before and it didn't seem like the hardest achievement, not when the bassist's separation anxiety could be used in his favour.

I had to give him time. It was the final verdict.

Kristian wasn't one to be patient, but there was no other way to gain more access to his best friend's romantic rewards.

'So, what's your plans for the weekend?' Olve got interested in another topic.

'Aside from escaping my shit life at home, I don't think I have anything planned in advance' the rhythm guitarist replied rhetorically. 'What's up?'

'Guy at work asked me for a couple of moonshine bottles. He said that I could come over on Sunday' the bassist divulged. 'Do you wanna come with me?

'Since when do you do anything for free?' Kristian raised a bushy eyebrow in question.

'Since never. He pays me for everything. I'll sell them for double the price that my next-door neighbour sells me' The band leader stated.

'Cheap swindle' the other metalhead commented.

'Nah, it's totally worth it' Olve insisted.

'Why on Sunday? Why don't you bring the booze to him on Monday?' Kristian frowned in wonder.

'Because he's from Sweden and he took the next week off to go home' the bassist explained, putting out his cigarette in the ashtray.

'Still, who the fuck likes that crap? I thought that whatever you drink in the port is better' the rhythm guitarist admitted, taking another sip of his drink.

'It's stronger, but it tastes even worse than the moonshine. Trust me' The band leader emphasized.

'But anyway, do you wanna come or not? He lives in Alversund. That's kinda the same distance from Bergen to Os, but up north. We can take the bus or the car, but I might take the car there'

'Tsk, driving on the streets without a license all the way to fuck knows where? Weren't you the one who said they wouldn't risk-'

'I know what I said! I'm not that dumb in the head to risk my ass on a busy highway and get caught and I also told him that much, but he told me about a side road that nobody uses, let alone cops'

'Oh, so it's basically a mud path'

'Probably? It poured like crazy lately so there's a chance that I might get stuck on the way there, but!' And that's when Olve abruptly paused and grinned. 'If I get stuck, at least I won't get stuck alone'

'Right, there you go' Kristian crossed his arms and sighed tiredly.

'Come on!' The bassist groaned like a spoiled child.

'Ugh, fine' the rhythm guitarist agreed just to put a stop to his best friend's theatrical demands.

'I'll share the profit with you' the band leader smiled, now satisfied.

'I wouldn't have agreed otherwise' Kristian confirmed with entitlement.

'Great, it's settled' Olve concluded. 'What would I do without you?' He teasingly wondered.

'Good question. You should ask yourself that more often' the rhythm guitarist deadpanned, earning a little giggle from his comrade.

Truth be told, he liked the bassist's concern, hoping that it was more behind those words than a mere joke to have his way.

One hard drink followed another and another one until they reached an idyllic state of mind in which they were rambling freely, laughing loudly and enjoying the night to the fullest.

It was times like this in which Kristian could feel the connection between them glowing, just radiating through their smiles.

Careless for how obnoxiously hammered he could get, Olve emptied another shot of Tequila. There was no chase and no rush to get wasted, yet somehow it became more and more mandatory from one day to another. Maybe it was the fact that Kristian stopped bitching about his bad habits, now embracing them himself or it could be that they both hit rock bottom in blatant unawareness. Either way, it made no difference. He couldn't tell who was more of a functional mess than the other.

Sometime later, when he lost touch with time and space, the bassist found himself walking on the streets, hanging heavily on his best friend who seemed to have a hard time keeping both of them on their feet.

'Hey, where are we going? Why did we leave already?' Olve mumbled incoherently, looking around, waiting for his sense of orientation to return.

'We're going home, you dumbass' Kristian slurred, arguably more lucid than his mate.

The information didn't click yet in the bassist's head, but he trusted his bandmate enough not to abandon him in a ditch.

In a more salvageable mental state he would've remembered that being a Friday night, could only mean one thing. The rhythm guitarist was staying over. It would've been great news had he not felt the content inside his stomach rising to his throat while his chin was fixed on Kristian's collarbone.

'I'm gonna puke' Olve groaned before he pulled away from his comrade and spewed like a champion in the middle of the boulevard.

'Fucking gross' the rhythm frowned in disgust at the mess that the bassist made on the asphalt and on his shoes. 'Hey, hold up-' he quickly grabbed a hold on his friend before he could fall onto the ground.

Coughing and heaving, the misery wasn't quite over yet as another wave of sickness hit him, earning a second jet of vomit. The rhythm guitarist cursed, more bewildered than actually annoyed because he was clever enough to avoid Olve's trajectory and because the alcohol was keeping him in high spirits.

'Gods, you're making me nauseous. Are you done already?' Kristian asked, shaking his bandmate's shoulders.

'I'm done when I'll be done' The band leader drunkenly lectured, pointing towards the blurry blob that was supposed to be his comrade. 'I'm done now'

Moving past the incident that they just had, the vertigo didn't stop. Barely figuring out which one of the three cigarettes that he was seeing was the real one, the band leader lit it up before Kristian suddenly pushed him in the backseat of the first taxi that he spotted.

The old man who was quietly napping in his seat almost had a heart attack when the door in the back was harshly opened and a body was casually thrown inside.

Hopping in the vehicle, the rhythm guitarist began his tipsy gibberish from which the driver had to decipher the address that they wanted to go to.

It was a 40 minute ride accompanied by the horrid stench of puke, sweat and cigarette smoke, amped by loud laughter and drunken ramblings that no taximan should've ever been subjected to. Nobody in their right mind would’ve agreed to give a lift to those two hooligans to the rural fucking nowhere if it wasn’t for the lottery price that they would have to pay at their destination. Price that seemed nothing for the bassist in the moment but he would freak out about the very next day.

Rolling down the windows didn't do anything for the circus that was going on in the backseat, but it all came to an end when Kristian spotted Olve's neighbourhood.

Out in the pitch-black because consistent public lighting was just a futuristic dream in the outskirts of Os, they eventually made it into the right yard using the glow of the rhythm guitarist's Zippo.

'That's not my fucking house! My house is further down the street-'

'This is your fucking house. Get in already!'

Turning on the light in the hallway and confirming that they didn't break into someone else's house was a relief. Pushing past Kristian, the bassist staggered to his bedroom. The rhythm guitarist followed tiredly, eager for his spinning head to hit the pillow already.

Once in bed, blue eyes fell shut, giving into the exhaustion that would carry him to a profound blackout.

He didn't mind the arms that were wrapped around him loosely nor the unconscious figure that was embracing him from behind. On the contrary, he savored every second of Olve's needed for him, falling asleep, wishing it would never end. 

Chapter Text

Saturday was spent in post-drinking sickness with nothing better to do than to stay inside and watch wrestling replay on TV for the whole day until Kristian returned to his official home.

No fallout about being away far too often or getting stupidly drunk again followed the rhythm guitarist at his residence for the simple reason that the house was empty.

There were plenty of advantages in having his single parent always busy with her romantic interest, but there were also downsides and the most relevant one at that time was the lack of food in the fridge.

Having his mother constantly out on dates or at her lover's place meant less time attending generic household chores.

It was then when he realized just how mutual the antagonism towards each other truly was. The godawful discomfort of having to cohabit under the same roof went undeniably both ways . The nerve-wracking urge to escape the stress of having to deal with one another by running to that one special person that they thought to be their new 'safe space' was painfully obvious.

Like mother, like son.

He didn't like the parallel that he was presenting to himself, he didn't like that he was sharing the same path as her in solving their problems.

Disappointed, tired and ultimately starved, he went to bed early in the afternoon.

One day he would feel invincible for beating the system and saving his failed educational year for the sake of his rigorous caregiver and the next, he would be facedown in his pillow, smothered by thoughts of worthlessness and premature abandonment that he suffered.

Beaten down by his deplorable daily life he wished that Olve's words about stop giving a fuck were true because he couldn't see the end of the tunnel while sitting in pitch darkness in the middle of a hurricane.

When Sunday came around, Kristian found himself in unwanted but needed company.

He didn't talk much with her when she came back. Neither she asked anything about him. She got used to not having him home for more than three days out of seven, something that she couldn't even comprehend in the beginning of his rebellion. Funny how everything changes, he bitterly thought while being about to leave until his internal monologue got interrupted by her calling him from the hallway, ordering to take the trash out.

He did as told as the reliable son that he's always been.

There were times in which one would mellow towards the other but they would never synchronize. The only schedule that they could keep together was the one of anger fits and melodrama. The golden hour of rage was never absent from their program.

It was all he knew and all he gave back.

Ashen clouds and livid skies, that was what the west coast of Norway was made of.

Fed up with feeling like a wet dog once in a while, he took an umbrella with him before going out again. Luckily, in less than 20 minutes of waiting at the bus station, his ride to where his heart was kept arrived.

---

'What took you so long??'

Kristian rolled his eyes at Olve's dramatic question as soon as they met eyes.

'You seem to forget that I've also got things to do and places to be outside of your fucking house' the rhythm guitarist replied with a reproach.

'Hardly' the band leader commented from the armchair, playing his bass guitar.

'What did you say?' The other metalhead frowned.

'Alright, time to go!' The bassist concluded, getting up and setting his instrument aside. 'The weather isn't gonna get much better so, let's get going already'

Blue eyes watched skeptically as his best friend picked up a card box full of liquor bottles from the kitchen counter, pushing the entry door open with his leg and making his way to the garage.

'I'm putting these in the trunk. I'll be back in a minute' Olve yelled from outside. 'Oh, and by the way, I hope you know how to read maps in case we take the wrong road and get lost'

With everything packed up, they took off to a place where they only had a rough idea of how to get there while dodging police check-ups.

It was supposed to be a one hour journey if they chose to go straight through Bergen and directly north, but having to navigate through all kinds of dirt roads and miscellaneous villages, Kristian expected them to take at least double the time to the destination.

The music was on, the fuzzy sound of classic rock coming from the car’s speakers. It was one of Olve's mixtapes playing. It included everything from Aerosmith to Kreator making the rhythm guitarist wonder just how multifaceted his best friend really is.

Some of the pungent fumes of burnt tobacco were being pushed out of the window while some were still lingering inside the vehicle, forever to be imbued in the car's ancient upholstery.

Lonesome telecommunications poles were passing by together with endless greenlands and deep-blue bodies of water.

A small drop of rain landed on Kristian's hand while he was ashing out the window. He could smell the ozone in the air and feel the static amplifying. There was a heavy storm coming and they were riding towards it. 10 minutes later the downpour was smashing into the windshield, blurring the road ahead.

'It's getting nasty' Olve stated, slightly slowing down.

'Do you want to stop until it passes?' Kristian asked for common sense.

'Scared of a little splash, Vikernes?' The bassist questioned playfully just to get a rise out of his bandmate.

'Don't make me cause you an accident' the rhythm guitarist squinted his eyes menacingly but he only earned a smug smile from his best friend.

'Sounds dangerous. I might want you to' the band leader shamelessly flirted.

'Keep your fucking eyes on the road' Kristian ordered more annoyed than truly aggressive, rolling his eyes in the process.

It wasn't like he would've minded a brief halt at the edge of the lane, but denying it was part of how he maintained his dominance, it was how he made sure that Olve craved him more.

The downfall got heavier with every meter they passed, the sound of music being nearly entirely covered by the sound of raindrops smashing onto the car. With one functional windshield wiper and one that was broken, the visibility was completely compromised.

It was then when Kristian witnessed probability the most intelligent decision in his best friend's life. The bassist slowed down and pulled over, admitting defeat in front of the vicious weather.

'That's it, it comes down in buckets. We're gonna have to wait a minute or two' he let the other know, turning off the engine to save fuel. 'But there's a way to make time pass faster, you know?'

'Mh?' The rhythm guitarist hummed suggestively.

How unfortunate that he was a master in the arts of falsely leading.

'Oh, you want me already?'

'Awh, don’t play this game now'

'Too bad, I might'

He devilishly smirked in triumph when his comrade groaned, defeated.

'Why are you being like that, mh?' The bassist insisted. 'If you got bored of blowjobs, we can always go further'

'No, thanks. I'm good with that' Kristian was quick to turn down the offer.

'Are you scared?' A curious eyebrow was raised in question.

'I'm not fucking scared, I'm just not interested' the rhythm guitarist made himself clear.

'Tsk, you don't even know what you're losing, Kris' the band leader purred, although his best friend was already ignoring him. 'Very well' he rolled his eyes.

He could've pushed it because he knew that Kristian would've eventually given in, but it wouldn't feel right.

As the storm diminished, the bassist established that it was time to go.

The sky didn't clear up afterwards, but spared them from more precipitations for a little while. The route ahead was only getting worse with mud becoming thicker and harder to navigate through.

Olve could hear his father's good old station wagon fighting through the sludge until it got stuck. He pressed hard onto the accelerating pedal although the effort was futile.

'Shit' the band leader cursed.

'Go in reverse' the rhythm guitarist suggested as if he knew better.

'That's what I'm trying to do now' the bassist replied in frustration. 'It's useless'

Kristian breathed out in indignation, refraining from impertinent comments. 'Great. What do we do now? Where the fuck are we even here?'

'We're on the right path, we just need to get out of the clag' Olve assured while looking around at the wild nothingness around them. Truth be told, he had no idea where they were but being further stressed by his bandmate was not an option. 'Let's take a look'

Stepping out onto the wet soil, they both recoiled at the submerging shoe sensation.

'It's bad.. but it's not that bad' the band leader thought out loud while walking around the vehicle to inspect the situation.

'So, what do you suggest?' Kristian asked with his arms crossed.

The other metalhead sighed. 'One of us gotta push the car while the other drives out. You can't push shit so I'll have to do it. Get in the driver seat' he didn't even give his best friend time to protest as he already went behind the vehicle. 'Go gently'

'I know how to drive' the rhythm guitarist bit back in stupid superiority.

Contrary to their initially grim expectations, they got themselves out of the toughest part of the dirt road. When the band leader reclaimed the driver seat, he took off his filthy jacket and tossed it somewhere into the backseat.

'Are you in the hots?' Kristian shamelessly joked as soon as the other was left in his Kiss t-shirt and mud-stained jeans.

'You might just find out' Olve barked back unimpressed and finally stepped on it.

Later on when they entered civilization, they checked on the map to surprisingly confirm that they were still on the right track.

Once they entered the village of Alversund, the bassist pulled out from his pocket a small piece of paper with his coworker's address and in less than 10 minutes, they found the right house.

Walking out on the porch with a crooked cigarette in his mouth and a hollowed-out face akin to one of a long-term opium-user, the disheveled Swedish man greedily took the booze box out of his courier's hands, uttering a neglectful 'Tack, Olav', paid him and returned inside.

Back in the car, the rhythm guitarist couldn't ignore the slammed door on his best friend's side.

'So, Olav' Kristian started, his shit-eating grin denouncing his mockery.

'I hate Swedes' Olve commented bitterly, turning on the engine and leaving with a pissed face.

---

The evening gloom was slowly falling over the sedentary Scandinavian landscapes, inviting celestial bodies to reveal themselves.

'This shit wasn't worth it'

'How so? He paid you for the fuel also'

'Nah, I should've stayed home, get drunk and get freaky with you'

The casual confession made Kristian's heart skip a beat.

'It was all a waste of time and effort. We could've just chill on the couch, maybe watch something. You could've taken care of me, I could've made you feel good'

He could feel his pulse rising and his skin getting hotter underneath his clothes, making it impossible to resist one more second to sexual impulse. He knew that their teasing game would inevitably come to an end when one of them would jump on the other and assuming that he would be the first to do so, wasn't far-fetched at all.

Daring eyes travelled down on the bassist's frame, catching sight of the not-so-discreet bulge inside his tight blue jeans. The shameless revelation made his mouth run dry.

'All good?' Olve asked innocently, smiling like a reptile while keeping his eyes on the country road. He smoothly relocated his right hand from the gear stick to his bandmate's leg.

The rhythm guitarist bit his lip in criminal silence when his inner thigh was gripped and explicitly squeezed.

It was the last straw.

'Pull over'

'What-'

'Pull over now'

Olve obeyed Kristian's urgent tone. Before he had time to ask questions, his bandmate caught the collar or his shirt in a fist and brought him closer to his sinful lips.

'Get in the back now '

The rhythm guitarist's assertive whisper sent a shiver down his spine.

He did as told, clumsily moving to the back seat only to have Kristian climb on his lap seconds later.

'Damn you and your mood swings' Olve purred, gripping the other's hips and pulling him closer to his body.

Kristian hummed in satisfaction, a smirk manifesting on his face when he saw the primal need in the bassist's eyes. The hunched over position in which he stood wasn't exactly comfortable but he accepted it, wrapping his arms around his mate's neck and murmuring into his ear.

'If you haven't read the cues yet, you got on my nerve for sacrificing my day to come and play delivery with you'

'Are you saying that you didn't like my eyes all over you instead of the route-' Olve cut his words short with a hiss when he felt his best friend's hips rolling seductively against his. 'You tease'

'So what?' Kristian's lips curved upwards before grinding on his comrade again. 'You fucking like that' he didn't question, he stated.

The bassist groaned, clasping Kristian's sharp pelvic bones, rubbing back, sensing his bandmate's rear pressed tight onto his erection. He could only imagine how delightful the friction would be without clothes on.

The rhythm guitarist whined in pleasure when he felt cold hands slipping underneath his jumper. The icy touch onto his burning-hot skin and its sensual temerity were making him lose his mind entirely. Those selfish fingers running up on his elegantly curved spine, tracing his narrow sides and reaching further for his defined ribs were the most charming manifestation of possession.

He needed to be needed and the ambitious way in which he was responding to Olve's lustful caresses made his intentions crystal clear.

The band leader enjoyed the show that his best friend was giving, allowing the rhythm guitarist to push him back into the seat while unbuckling his belt. Their eyes met with implicit consensus and feverish desire, but for all that the bassist cared, Kristian could just go down on him any time, at any moment without any type of announcement.

Automatically, legs spread as soon as his aching cock was freed. He watched his bandmate get beside him and lean forward, going straight to business.

Catching Kristian's hair from getting in his way in a loose fist, he closed his eyes and forgot about all in the world. The rhythm guitarist descended easily, reaching the base of Olve's cock with his lips but withdrew instantly just to toy with his best friend.

The bassist groaned in annoyance at the new ways that Kristian developed to finely torture him. Having a relatively higher tolerance for fuckeries, he would let his bandmate have fun with him until he would reach his limits and switch their dynamic.

'You like sucking the life out of me, huh? No foreplay, no warning, you go straight for it' The band leader teased, getting lost in those bright blue orbs that were staring back at him and those rosy folds that were stretched out around his girth. 'You look so damn pretty with my cock in your mouth, did you know that?'

Does he really think that?

He felt Kristian's hum vibrate through him, making him tingle with endless pleasure and arousal. Being praised would always push his best friend to work harder, but beyond generic selfishness, Olve stood for his words.

'I really mean it. I can barely hold myself not to gag you right now' He continued in a husky voice. 'But you don't mind being gagged anymore, do you?'

'I may have learned a trick or two' Kristian whispered, licking his wet lips before flicking his serpent tongue over the bassist's head.

The pitiful moan that he won in reply was more than welcomed by his inflated sense of self, expanding his satisfaction. It was then when the bassist reached the edge of his endurance, tightening his grip on his bandmate's roots. Kristian whined playfully when his hair was pulled, then his head was shoved forward between the band leader's legs.

'There you go' Olve cooed soothingly, forcing the rhythm guitarist to take him in his throat entirely. 

The wet and warm tightness that engulfed him, the sleek cavity that he squeezed himself in was his private Valhalla, the one land of everlasting rapture that he was free to make use of whenever he craved.

He gently took every honey-brown stain that was falling in Kristian's eyes to see every single detail of his perfect face. Like he often did, he went so far down his best friend's throat that he could see the rhythm guitarist's lips almost flat against his pelvic area. The sight was wonderful and to admire it thoughtfully, he held Kristian in place for several long seconds.

Cheeks turned from pale pink to violet red while deep blue eyes were glistening. Coughing was impossible at his point so small convulsions and heavy heaving occurred as a system alert. Kristian's fists went white from clutching them so tight through the cooperative violation.

'Keep it in' the bassist gazed deep into those tear-filled orbs, knowing that they will never fail him. 'God, you know to make me feel good'

The short moment of panic and nausea came to an abrupt end when Olve pulled the rhythm guitarist back, allowing him to inhale fresh oxygen.

'You still put up a bit of resistance' the band leader teased.

'I d-on't!' Kristian frowned, coughing out. 'I'm in c-ontrol of everything'

'Yeah? That's cute because you always say that' the bassist smiled sincerely. He didn't wait for a reply as he shoved his comrade's mouth back on his cock and thrusted himself forward.

Taken by surprise, Kristian turned in, trying to relax while having his face fucked just to make his previous point clearer. He found it much easier to breathe while the bassist was rocking back and forth inside his mouth than slowly impaling his cock into his pharynx for the sake of dumb curiosity.

Finally, he regained his own version of dignity by getting comfortable with being practiced on. He couldn't surpass the fact that he's been attributed the world 'cute' by his dotish crush. 

'I'm getting closer' Olve informed, his hip movement turning less coordinated and more frantic by second.

Kristian caught a hold on his legs and groaned, begging him to slow down. He then unzipped his own jeans and slipped his hand inside.

'So quick to bust a nut already?' The bassist grinned.

'Look who's talking' the rhythm guitarist objected, his voice still rough from the heavy work that he's been put to. 'Don't fucking sit there and look at me, touch me'

The imperious yet desperate tone in which Kristian asked to be taken care of was just as sweet as it was worth poking fun at. Olve always liked the sudden shift in behaviour towards the end of their playtimes. It almost compensated for the repulsion of having to touch his bandmate's aching cock, almost .

The band leader sighed, only him knowing his own misfortune. 'Keep sucking' he demanded without harshness, then spat on his palm to honor his part of the deal.

The rhythm guitarist moaned muffedly when callous fingers wrapped around his neglected erection and started moving. He was living for the precious moments in which the bassist's hands were on him, all over him . He mentally cursed the car's interior for being so cramped, giving them so much trouble to unfold all of their perversions.

The right compression and constant speed made him shiver and throb between Olve's slippery digits. He could hardly focus on his task of slurping on his best friend's cock. It was his fault for intentionally denying himself pleasure to get a greater high at the end.

'Huh, look at you. You're so fucking close to burst out and I barely started to touch you' the band leader cooed, pushing his thumb onto the sensitive head, rubbing in circles tiny bids of precum over it.

It wasn't just Kristian who enjoyed the act of edging. Of course it made it impossibly hotter when Olve was messing with him.

'Don't stop, I'm not done yet' The bassist stated in a falsely concerned voice. He chuckled to see Kristian struggle to maintain his focus on him. 'Come on'

The rhythm guitarist cried pitifully at that special tingle that was accumulating from within. He could feel hot sweat dripping down his nape as he was being roughly masturbated. Suddenly, a shortcut happened and electrifying elation overpowered him. His whole body went rigid, muscles tightened up and eyes rolled in the back of his skull as he came hard in his best friend's hand. He didn't even have time to process his own climax when Olve finished in his mouth without a warning.

Kristian faintly moaned, depleted of energy to recoil and spit, swallowing obediently the bassist's ultimate proof of affection. He then finally raised his head and let it fall on the seat.

Taking a good look at his comrade, the band leader chuckled, satisfied with the outcome. 'You're so done' he stated, his voice turning more gentle as he asked. 'You liked that, didn't you?'

'Mhm' Kristian hummed in reply, slowly coming down from his high. 'Can you..?' He weakly pointed to the dashboard.

'Huh?' Olve frowned in wonder before it clicked. 'Oh, yeah. Sure' he squished himself between the seats to the glove box and pulled out a pack of napkins that they kept there for that exact reason.

Once they cleaned and made themselves decent again, they returned to the front of the car.

'Uh, you still got a bit on your face' 

Right before he could start the motor again, the bassist leaned into his passenger's space and softly wiped what seemed to be a bit of dried semen on the corner of his bandmate's mouth.

Kristian's cheeks reddened for being caught off guard when the band leader bent towards him. His heart would inevitably melt every time their faces would get so close that they could feel their hot breaths on each other's skin.

The look that Olve gave him was one that he was unfortunately too used to. Dark blonde eyebrows would mellow out while focus would slowly shift on his lips as in longing to taste them, but he never would. That gaze remained mild yet controlled, somehow pitiful if the rhythm guitarist didn't know better. And the moment would be consumed before he could tilt his head and steal a peak from the band leader, if he ever found the courage to act on his most neglected cravings.

'There you go' Olve rolled the words smoothly on his tongue, a faint smile trying him. 'Alright, we're done here' He concluded, pulling away much faster than he leaned in.

The rhythm guitarist let it pass like he always did.

In hindsight, there was nothing that he could really do but wait until the band leader finally found it in him to do what was painfully obvious for both of them.

If Kristian had the guts to launch at him like a deprived animal and do the 'dirty job' before any ceremonial start, then Olve had to contribute with at least the first step that they both missed from the beginning. He must be too embarrassed to kiss me yet, was a thought that kept bothering him for weeks. He had faith that his best friend wouldn't lead him to a dead end. He clung to the idea that they both opted to be 'friends with benefits' because of their inner conflicts regarding homosexual romance but once those were solved, they could enjoy a beautiful first relationship.

It had to be that.

With feelings growing stronger from day to day, he had to be right in his assumptions and behavioural interpretations. Having patience with Olve's volatility was the equivalent of being slowly crucified.

---

The moon was out, bathing in its silver refinement when they got back inside the garage.

How does time fly so quickly?

'Hey, thanks for coming anyway'

Deep blue eyes turned to warm brown ones as they divulged shy gratitude.

'Is that the equivalent of thanks for giving me head because I'm not a fucking hooker-'

'No, it's not! I know that. I mean thanks for ruining your weekend for this shit'

Kristian couldn't tell what Olve was trying to say as he 'ruined' many peaceful days and nights with him, but maybe, just maybe it was the bassist's clumsy way of wanting to get emotionally closer.

'You're welcome' he replied, calmer and more serene than his best friend would've anticipated before departing in the night. 

Chapter Text

The shower was running for 15 minutes now. The water pressure was loud enough to keep little whimpers and moans unheard by his mother in her bedroom.

It was a licentious and overly precarious venture in which he was indulging.

Olve's late apropos about wanting to go further with Kristian in their sexual escapade had been corrupting the rhythm guitarist's mind for quite a while now.

At first, he brushed the filthy insinuations away, considering them nothing but gratis mockery. He thought that it was all a silly joke until it wasn't.

Advanced perversions spawned on his mind like mushroom spores on a dead tree, occupying an indispensable and very troublesome role in his everyday life. Who would've thought that he could submerge from his indisputable intellectualism to the state of nymphomania thanks to one damn person. Adolescence was about anything but keeping innocence because the more he dropped into his knees in front of his best friend, the more he wanted to do so.

He didn't have any childhood glimpse into pornography, so where did his sudden urges come from?

There was something about the bassist that he found impossibly alluring, something that was affecting him deeply whenever he was in his presence and there was also something so utterly arousing in whoring himself out for ten seconds of affection. Promiscuity meant breaking free only if done in a safe environment, and he knew who his safest environment was.

Olve wanted him and that was the truth. That simple notion held so much power over him that his body was catching fire only at this teasing thought.

Unable to relax in his bed and read his favourite trilogy before sleep, he ditched his usual plans in order to address his urgent daydreams and corporal demands.

Sitting down in the bathtub, beyond the opaque shower curtain with one hand going down between his wet thighs and the other holding his blushing erection, he closed his eyes to picture someone else spoiling him.

A soap-coated digit was rubbing in small circles on his entrance making his cock twitch in anticipation. Breathing hotly in the moist bathroom air, he timidly pushed his middle finger inside.

The intrusion was minimal, but it served greatly his carnal desperation. The physical sensation was strange to say the least, but it wasn't as uncomfortable as he thought it would be. It didn't feel pleasant in an erotic way, but it was just what his brain needed in order to bring him closer to the edge.

As his wrist motion continued concomitant with his virgin exploration, he silently gasped as he came on his stomach, wishing that Olve was the one touching him in the moment.

Perhaps there was something alluring in being stimulated in more than one way. Just like everything else, he wanted it all at once and he wanted his satisfaction to linger long before the climax was over.

He couldn't see himself as being needy, he only perceived himself as being irresistible. He knew he was and he couldn't wait to use that aspect as a tactic to win his prize.

Done with fooling around and with some inner tranquility restored, he got up and washed himself quickly before going to bed.

---

'Hey, have you heard the news? Morbid Angel is coming to Oslo in a week'

'No way'

'For real??'

Tore got all eyes on him after spreading the latest news.

Hanging out on the roof of their favourite abandoned boarding school after a rough Monday with snacks and rolled cigarettes was their only entertainment at the end of the day.

'Who told you that?' Olve asked away.

'My dad. He saw a flyer with the concert this morning and brought it home. He was surprised that I didn't know already' the lead guitarist briefly explained.

'Wait, what? I haven't seen any flyers around here' the bassist intervened.

'That's probably because people are going even more crazy with rock music lately. They're trying to get rid of everything that's satanic or whatever' Jan clarified, mimicking quotation marks to make a point.

'Huh, we might turn into local celebrities' the band leader chuckled.

'You wish' Kristian commented and rolled his eyes.

'So, anyway, what do we do? Obviously, I'd love to go-' Tore asked, being cut short by his mate.

'Are you asking me??' Olve questioned back, rhetorically. 'We're going to see Morbid Angel, it's fucking settled!'

'Dude, we don't even know if the tickets haven't sold out already. The gig was officially announced two weeks ago-' the lead guitarist tried to realistically discuss the issue.

'Oh, we have to find tickets!' The bassist insisted, having none of it. 'One way or another we gotta go. How many occasions to see Morbid Angel live did you have, huh? We live in the far-off shit-hole nowhere where no band ever comes-'

'Dissection came not long ago-' the drummer replied.

'Dissection is from Sweden, it doesn't count' the band leader cut him off. 'We gotta do everything to see Trey Azagthoth live. This guy is a fucking legend already!'

He locked eyes with his peers who also shrugged, raised eyebrows or nodded at his statement.

'Well, he's got a point though' Jan was the first to firmly admit.

'We gotta go' Tore solidified his answer.

Olve grinned widely after blowing nicotine fumes into the air, already feeling one step closer to the concert. Kristian also smiled wolfishly when he met his best friend's eyes, making it clear that he wanted the same thing.

The lukewarm night was gingerly falling over the wall of trees and the spread houses in the distance. Small dots of lights were visible in the distance, glitching just like the constellations above them.

For a moment, the rhythm guitarist wished he was alone with his romantic interest, sitting closer to one another, enjoying the nightfall and maybe even sharing a touch of lips.

He could wait, he told himself that a hundred times by now.

---

The sound of footsteps through unkempt grass and robust bushes merged with mischievous giggles and quiet conversations could be heard as they emerged out of the woods and into a large clearing.

Being able to drive around came with enormous advantages including the most obvious one of enlarging their area of devilment.

Exploring new territories further from what they already knew, they stumbled upon what used to be the old, now abandoned zinc factory in Odda.

Nature grew onto the forsaken construction, reclaiming its power over structures of concrete and cement. Industrial plants that were at the risk of collapsing and technical rooms still containing equipment were left behind to rot out over the course of time and human negligence.

Once they randomly found the place, they knew they had to return and take a better look at what used to be a piece of local history.

It was a placid Tuesday spared of any trace of precipitations. It was one of those mild days that truly felt like April.

Wearing a light jacket was ideal to feel the chill breeze on his skin and not be bothered by it. He knew the weather was deceitful for most of the time, but the thrill of shedding layers was at its peak. His best friend took the bar even higher by going out in his Motörhead t-shirt and knee-ripped jeans.

Walking through enormous chambers covered in dust and rust, every footfall was echoing out violating the melancholic serenity of a lonesome relic. Olve couldn't help but put the indoors sonority to the test by screaming out some of the lyrics of his band.

'This is fucking awesome' he turned with a smile on his face to his bandmate before continuing with his low vocals. 'If I had a recorder right now-'

'I know, you would've used it for our new songs' Kristian rolled his eyes. 'You're so predictable all the time'

'You mean inspired' the bassist corrected. 'You know, sometimes it seems like I'm the only one who takes our shit seriously'

'I do too' the rhythm guitarist lied. 'But I agree with you that this place sounds better than the woods. I might consider it for my own project'

'Be my guest. The resonance is fucking sick. You can shriek as loud as you want and nobody is gonna hear you here' a playful grin grew on the band leader's lips.

'Tempting' Kristian bluntly flirted back. 'Would you help me out with it?'

'You want me to make you scream, huh?' Olve kept toying with him. 'You're getting bolder, Kris. I kinda like that'

The rhythm guitarist swallowed thickly, feeling himself getting hot. He couldn't believe how easily influenced he had become.

Tripping over a metal bar while daydreaming about obscenity could've been anticipated. Fortunately, he regained his balance before hitting the ground. Looking up, he found himself alone in the building that they were exploring. He just couldn’t believe it. All it took was a second of inadvertently to completely lose sight of his moronic friend.

Exhaling out loud in indignation, he hurried his pace to find where the bastard was hiding. He could tell that the other metalhead was having a great time fucking with him but he was having none of it.

'For gods' sake, how old are you?? Don't be a fucking piece of shit and get out!' Kristian shouted into the defeating nothingness, getting more frustrated by minute.

Entering what seemed to be a chemical storage unit, he involuntarily gasped when something caught him by his jacket and pinned him against the wall.

'Look who's so damn predictable now' Olve stated, towering over his bandmate like a thief in the night. 'Thought I might leave you alone here? Oh, I'm not that kind of jerk' he purred, pushing his comrade further into the rigid surface.

'Piss off, you fucking asshole' Kristian growled, attempting to push away the other, only to have two hungry hands curl around his waist.

'Why so mad? I know you like that' the bassist teased, leaning forward so their foreheads were touching.

'Like what?' Kristian mumbled, losing all might and anger in a flash. He instinctively parted his lips, feeling the band leader's hot breath against his face.

'This' Olve coed, slipping his hands underneath his best friend's shirt. 'You like to play hard to get but you know what happens when I get you' He whispered seductively in Kristian's ear while his hands were freely roaming on his torso.

A weak and lustful moan came out when he felt one of his nipples being pinched. Trapped between the cold wall and the bassist's body, he felt helpless in the best way possible.

Holding onto his comrade, a shiver went down his spine as digits were running over his flesh, shamelessly feeling him up, grabbing his buttocks through his jeans. He gladly fell victim to Olve's urgent need to own more and more.

'You know what? I was damn right about what I said when I slapped your ass at that campfire. You really feel like a chick in my hands, you even squirm like one too' the bassist murmured charmingly into his bandmate's ear, squeezing him through the rough denim.

Kristian moaned in reply, desperately pushing himself into the band leader, feeling his own hardness through his pants.

'Mh? Too much too soon?' Olve coed, enjoying every moment. 'No worries, we can take our time with everything' he soothingly assured his friend while using one hand to open up his belt.

The rhythm guitarist didn't waste time, he squatted down in front of the bassist, forecasting what was coming next. He avidly wrapped his lips around the band leader's cock and sucked passionately. Looking up, he could practically read the sheer delectation on Olve's eyes.

'Just like that, come on' The bassist purred, pushing his hips forward past what used to be Kristian's comfort zone and into the depths of his throat. 'That's it'

The rhythm guitarist loved the dirty chat although his comrade's words of dominance were overpowered by the indisputable control in his actions. Shortly, it was all a game for him.

Naughty praises were entertained as he loved being shown appreciation for the meticulous work that he was doing. After all, he was only getting closer to what he was covertly aiming for.

When he sensed his best friend pulsing on his tongue, groaning and sucking in sharp breaths, he knew he was getting closer to the finish line. That was the highest time in which he would always either demand to be also 'taken care of' or he would do it himself, depending on their circumstances. 

In a rush, Kristian unzipped his own pants and took his aching problem in his hand. What he didn't expect though was for Olve to drew back and chuckle.

'Nah, we're not done yet. Get up and turn around'

Kristian reluctantly obeyed, raising back on his feet, turning his body to face the concrete wall.

'Hey-'

He froze when the bassist pulled his pants and underwear down to his knees, exposing him to the room’s temperature.

'Shh, it's all fine. I just wanna try something' The band leader whispered softly, positioning himself behind his bandmate, checking out everything that he didn't have the chance to see until then. 'Fuck, Kris. You've got the nicest shape. I’ll give you that, man'

'What the hell do you want to do?' The rhythm guitarist asked urgently, concern growing stronger than arousal as soon as he realized the new situation. 'I'm not, I-I don't want to-'

'I won't' Olve assured him calmly. 'I just want to touch you, that's all'

It was times like this in which Kristian was reminded of his immense trust in his best friend. The promise made him relax, uncurl his fists on the wall and lower his head in submission.

His cock twitched when warm fingers found their way again on the curve of his spine, coming down on his sides and gripping his hips. He couldn't deny wanting the simplest, yet most carnal scenario to take place, he couldn't lie to himself that he hadn't fantasized about going all the way with Olve, allowing the bassist to just take him and make him his . Those exact libidinous visions were the reason why his showers were taking much longer and why he found it harder to fall asleep at night. It was just the next step, part of the natural evolution of their shared sexual life, yet it felt the hardest thing to do.

A needy whimper escaped his mouth when digits stroked his ass one more time, rapaciously, downright possessively. The utter embarrassment for being so bare in front of another person was mixing with the incitement of having his latest cravings finally handled. Callous fingers descended between his cheeks, stopping at his tiny entrance and rubbing slowly onto it.

'How does that feel?' Olve asked, making it impossible for the other to unimagine his smirk.

Kristian's breathing turned quicker and shallower by second. He bit his lip before another pitiful groan could unmask how overwhelmed he became.

Curiously, the bassist pushed his fingertip in, earning a hiss of discomfort from his best friend.

'Tsk, it's not gonna get much easier if it's not wet, but I don't want to fucking leave you like that' the band leader thought out loud. 'Do you want me to spit?

'What?' The rhythm guitarist asked, just to make sure that he heard his comrade's erotic suggestion right.

'Do you want me to spit so I can get inside you?' Olve purred, pressing his bandmate flat against the wall. 'I can't wait to feel you like that' he didn't want a response as he spat in his right hand then spread Kristian again.

'Shit' The rhythm guitarist cursed silently as he felt a cold touch of moisture on his most intimate area before sliding past his ring of muscle. He bit his lip at the semi foreign sensation, now amped by the fact that his crush was probing him.

'It goes in smoother than I would've guessed' the bassist let him know, slowly diving deeper with his middle finger into that heated core. 'Do you have something to say about that?'

Kristian only moaned in reply, ashamed to admit that he not long ago began exploring more of his body.

'Oh, that's not the time to be shy' the band leader murmured devilishly, curving his digit deep inside his best friend, earning even more moans in the process. 'Did you?'

'Y-eah' the rhythm guitarist helplessly admitted.

'And were you thinking of me?' The bassist took advantage of his friend's hesitation to push another finger inside.

Kristian gasped at the additional intrusion before uttering a small 'Yeah'.

'That's sweet' Olve replied, fucking his bandmate with two fingers. 'I can't even remember how many times I busted a nut thinking of you' He shamelessly confessed just to torment the other a bit more.

With the unrefined way in which he was being maneuvered, the rough friction in and out of him and the sensitive position in which he was serving for the bassist, the rhythm guitarist could rapidly feel himself ascending to his climax, but without direct stimulation, it was impossible to break the barrier.

'I want to come, stop playing with me' he hated himself for sounding so weak, but there he was, putting his pride aside to get an orgasm. To his own surprise, he didn't have to beg this time because one of Olve's hands gripped his neglected erection, but instead of jerking him off, he bent his cock between his legs, pulling it backwards. 'It fucking hurts' He groaned loudly in indignation, feeling slightly humiliated.

'I can't help it. You're so fucking easy to tease' the band leader grinned, enjoying his fuckery until he actually had to wank Kristian.

It didn't take long for the rhythm guitarist to see stars from erupting so hard that his knees almost gave up. Olve played him so good like he would've played his own bass guitar, making him squirm and cry in rapture.

'Stay there' The band leader instructed, holding Kristian by the hip while proceeding to masturbate himself too. He came with a low groan, painting his best friend's lower back and ass in hot cum. Still panting, he was gazing at his work of art slowly dipping down on smooth, pale skin.

Once they caught their breaths and came back from their trip into euphoria, they cleaned themselves up with a pack of napkins pulled out of Kristian's magic pockets.

Leaving behind the evidence of their heated session, they leisurely found their way out of the derelict.

---

Fingers were gratefully navigating on the fretboard, switching from playing scales to some easier Iron Maiden riffs that he memorized.

Sitting comfortably on the couch with his legs resting onto the coffee table and his white Westone on his lap, Kristian was making the most out of a lazy Thursday afternoon at his best friend's house.

Only one day before the show in Oslo and the spirits were high for the upcoming event.

Eventually, he and his pack succeeded to find tickets for Morbid Angel although it was quite a challenge since they were only available at the record store downtown and they sold out like fresh oysters in less than a week. Without any authorized outlet to provide them with passes, topped by the growing pressure from Jørn who was rubbing into their faces the fact that he already bought the last one, they had to step up their game.

Phone ordering directly from the venue that held the concert was their last resort. It was Kristian who came with the genius idea since that was exactly what he did to go to his first Slayer concert. Jan was the one to call and exchange his salary via bank for four stupidly overpriced, last-minute tickets. 

He wouldn't have done that without having the assurance that his bandmates would give back the money he spent on them, and to make sure that Olve wasn't the exception anymore, he took his car key until at least his latest debt was paid.

The next day, the mailman came with the longed-for procurements.

'So, are you gonna tell your mom that you'll go to Oslo tomorrow?'

The bassist came from the kitchen, cracking a can of beer open and taking a seat beside his bandmate.

'What's the point in it?' The rhythm guitarist asked bitterly, still playing his lick. 'I'm never home on Friday nights and she doesn't care about it anymore. It would be dumb to tell her that I'm going to the capital for a metal event. She would just freak out'

'Got it' the band leader nodded.

'Why do you even ask?' Bushy eyebrows frowned slightly in wonder.

'I don't know. It just crossed my mind' Olve simply shrugging, taking another gulp of alcohol before remembering something more important. 'Oh, by the way'

He got up, took his bass guitar from its place in the rack, next to the unloaded Karabiner rifle and rapidly returned to his best friend.

'So, I need serious advice. How do I fucking play with a pick without getting tired after only 30 minutes?'

Kristian looked at him in reticence before asking a better question. 'How the hell do you get tired with a pick and not with your fingers?'

'Ugh, I probably got used to it, but all the time I use a pick my right arm locks up from elbow down and it's so fucking tyring'

'That's ironic. Don't all of your stupid idols play with a pick?'

'They do-'

'Then why haven't you started playing like them from the start?'

'You see, that's the fucking issue. At first, I wanted to start with a pick but when I went to buy one from the music store, the guy there just laughed in my face and told me that bassists don't fucking need picks. He literally refused to sell me the damn pick. When I told Demonaz about it he said that there's nothing I can't do using fingerstyle'

'I mean, he's not wrong'

‘Glad you can confirm’

‘Fuck off’

'Yeah, anyway, It sounds way cooler with a pick. How do you fucking play the right way?'

Kristian didn't even have time to reply as Olve already got into his personal space, both eager and somehow frustrated to resolve his problem already.

'Show me where you get stuck' He sighed.

The band leader started playing some of his beloved heavy riffs while the rhythm guitarist was observing his slight improvements in dexterity but inconsistency in how he was picking the strings.

'Do you always anchor your right hand?' Kristian wondered curiously. 'It could be a reason why you get tired so easily'

'Yeah, that's how I usually hold it' Olve admitted. 'That's how everybody holds it'

'I don't hold it like that' the rhythm guitarist rolled his eyes. 'Close your fingers. You'll have a better grip on the pick'

'Like this?' The bassist asked, forming a fist.

'That's too much' the rhythm guitarist intervened, placing his hand over his best friend's to adjust the grip. He couldn't help but become aware of the fact that he was literally holding the other's hand. 'Now, relax' he instructed, feeling the approach shifting. 'Try playing like this'

Part of him regretted pulling away but it would've been awkward if he kept the physical contact longer.

'Oh, man. That's so much worse' Olve nervously giggled attempting to play like that, completely oblivious to his bandmate's subtle cry for affection, or so he made it seem.

'Try to practice like that and it might get easier. If not, give up and move on with your life' Kristian suggested in a somber tone although he was just joking and his comrade knew that.

'Best advice from you' the bassist commented, doing as told.

Later in the night, once they put their instruments aside and finished a couple of beers together with another horror flick marathon, the time to call it a day came around.

'Stay the night'

Was Olve's drunk and needy request as he lazily caught a hold on the edge of Kristian's shirt when his best friend got up from the couch to get his jacket and shoes.

Equally wasted eyes turned to the band leader as he clumsily stopped in mid step.

'Why?' The rhythm guitarist pushed his luck with his question, hoping that the loss of filter would make the bassist reveal more of his feelings.

'Mh, just stay' Olve mumbled, barely keeping his eyes open, his hand still hanging in the air.

He didn't give Kristian much insight, but it was enough to make him change his mind.

'Fine'

Turning off the TV, the rhythm guitarist lightly shook his best friend's shoulder, whispering a soft 'Come on' in the darkness.

The band leader obediently followed, getting up too fast to avoid the room spinning with him, dragging his legs to the bedroom.

The mattress wasn't quite as soft as Kristian wished for, but it was more than just perfect when his body finally relaxed on it.

That sweet pinch on his heart returned as soon as arms were unconsciously wrapped around his torso. The sheer warmth that his best friend's embrace could generate was like a cleanse from all the demons that he was carrying inside. How was it that the best feeling in the universe was so conditional and so unfairly given by pure chance that it always made him hope that one day he will receive more?

Hanging for ages on the slippery hand of love he learned that love won't hold him like it should've so he had to cling harder.

Turning around while the other was deeply asleep, Kristian enclosed his arms around Olve and buried his face in his chest. If he could've, he would've let himself be absorbed, made one with his most relished possession. 

Chapter Text

Waking up prematurely on a Friday morning solely to catch the first ride home to later attend another lyceum day was part of Kristian's reestablished responsibilities. April was closing up fast and there was only one month left until the summer break, time in which he had to make the most to save himself from failing his educational year. It was now or never that he had to play his cards perfectly and maintain his attendance in order to pass. With prepaid grades, he really had just one job to do.

Pulling away from Olve’s arms was the hardest task that he could've started with especially when he knew that his best friend took his working day off and they both could laze around until noon but he wisely chose to untangle his limbs from the bassist's and face the loneliness of waiting at the bus station.

It would've been idyllic if he could've stayed, but he secretly liked his game of giving himself and his bandmate false hope at the same time.

It makes him want me more. Was the borderline mentality that he adopted to make each one of their reunions much more intense.

---

Back in Fana, he entered the door and slipped back into his eternal routine.

Time served stuck in school was a nerve-wracking drudge while counting every minute until it was finally over. There was only one thing on his mind and that was the Morbid Angel concert that he couldn't wait to be present for.

Writing new lyrics in his math class, napping through history lessons and daydreaming about fulfilling all of his egomaniac wishes while staring out of the window was how he made it through. However, once the bell rang,  he knew that a wild weekend had just begun.

---

Stopping by at his place again, he dropped his school bag and took some hard cash for tonight's event without a second thought before leaving to meet up with his clique at their usual spot so they could go together to the Bergen Railway Station.

Time was pressing down on them with the clock on the wall showing 3:15 pm. The grim announcement that the train was about to be late for yet another fifteen minutes made Kristian let out a heavy exhale.

Looking around, other metalheads and rockers were easy to spot through regular people.

Grouped in small gangs, with chains dangling from their ripped jeans, wearing either combat boots or the same pair of Adidas forums that Megadeth made popular back in the early 80s, it was pretty clear that everybody was waiting for the same damn thing that he and his friends were waiting for.

'Looks like it's getting tight in here' Jan joked, turning to see more misfits gathering on the platform. 'Where do these people come from? I've never seen so many metallers in town'

'Probably from all around Vestland' Tore shrugged. 'But, holy fuck, I didn't think the ride would be that crowded'

'There's almost no chick, what the hell?' Olve thought out loud while thoughtfully scanning his surroundings. 'I was about to count six when one turned around and it had a fucking beard on her face'

'Some chicks have beards, man. Why so pretentious?' The drummer teased, earning a lazy giggle from the lead guitarist.

'Oh, looks who's coming' the bassist chuckled. 'Lange nicht gesehen'

'Don't twist your tongue with that much German' the figure grinned, grasping hands with Olve. 'Hey there'

Grease-soaked blonde hair and the same insufferable face that was silently asking to be spit on each time he came around. Kristian locked eyes with Jørn and felt his blood boil hot with anger within his veins.

'So, ready to rock?' The bassist from Amputation asked, smoothly initiating conversation with the others, literally turning his back to Kristian.

As if his innocent enthusiasm hadn't been ruined by the first target on his hit list, Jørn also brought his herd of buddies with him.

'I'm not sharing the train compartment with him' the rhythm guitarist made his quiet decision clear the moment he caught his best friend's attention.

'Chill out, he's just messing around, that's-' the band leader tried to explain although futile.

'I'll chill out when I'll be fucking dead, I'm being serious' Kristian squinted his eyes giving him no chance.

'Alright, got it' the bassist gave in, then turned to his friend to discreetly tell him to fuck off. 'Hey, Jørn-'

It was bad enough that they had to wait while more people were coming. It shouldn't have been a surprise since it was the most circulated route in their part of the country, but anxiety rose inside nevertheless.

'Hail Satan, here we go, guys' Jan smiled when a loud horn rang out, turning everyone's heads to the approaching locomotive.

---

Loaded with bags of chips, two liter bottles of Cola and one of cheap beer hidden in Olve's backpack, tons of excitement and four overpriced tickets to one of their favourite death metal bands, the group embarked on a seven hour train ride from their stinky port town to the prestigious capital.

'Alright, brothers. Time to sit back and relax for a little while before showtime' the bassist stated, throwing himself on the berth, occupying all of the space in which his best friend wanted to sit.

Sighing in frustration, the rhythm guitarist kicked his obnoxious bandmate's knee so he could make room.

'A little while? We're stuck here for a third of the day' Tore giggled, getting comfortable on the other berth in front of the band leader.

'Bonding time' Jan rhetorically commented, next to the lead guitarist.

'So be it' Olve nonchalantly shrugged. 'Have I told you about the last dirt on Ace Frehley?' A shit-eating smile crossed his lips.

'Hell no, not Kiss gossips again' Jan groaned, knowing too well what was about to unfold. 'We just got on the train, dude'

'The one about underage groupies or the same old beef with Paul?' Tore asked curiously, being the only one who got corrupted into liking the notorious glam band since middle school.

'Yeah, yeah! Him and Paul got at each other's throats again' the bassist replied eagerly.

Kristian just sat in silence, unable to do anything but catch up with the Kiss lore.

One hour had passed, then two and then three as they were slowly getting closer to half of their journey.

Conversations rolled sporadically from subject to subject within the metal world, from classic bands arguments to outstanding performers, to top-notch equipment that none of them could ever afford and so on. Outside of that, some naughty details about Jan 'kicking it up' with the girl that he went out with a couple of times were dug up by his timelessly virgin and horny friends. Just when Kristian thought that their chat wasn't boring enough, Tore started rambling about his growing love for Japanese race cars.

The rhythm guitarist was rapidly running out of tolerance but there was practically nothing that he could do to make the time go faster, but seeing the double doors of their booth being open interrupted his internal pity party.

'A little bird told me that you brought booze with you' Jørn mumbled visibly tipsy, pointing at the band leader.

'Me??' The bassist asked, wide-eyed and offended. 'You're looking at the wrong guy. I've got nothing'

'Come on, Olve! I know you're lying-'

'Man, I swear on Beelzebub! Who fucking brings booze on a train?? There are controllers and shit!'

'He's right. Sorry, dude' Jan strategically intervened.

'Are you being serious?' Jørn asked, drunken and confused before he heard Truls calling him from the vis-à-vis compartment. 'Fine, whatever'

Once their intoxicated mate left, they all burst into laughter.

'Ah, poor bastard' Tore sighed. 'You bet he already finished his stash and he came to us for more'

'Well, too bad that I don't do charity' Olve stated while unzipping his backpack and taking out their big bottle of beer. 'Who the hell goes to a metal concert without getting ready first?'

Kristian watched his bandmate take a gulp out of temptation before passing the bottle to the lead guitarist. Maybe there was one way to enjoy communal stupidity and that was to become as brainless as his peers and ask for his turn to drink.

'Easy there' the band leader suggested, hypocrisy filling in his words. 'Did you forget the order already?'

'I just took a sip, you asshole' the rhythm guitarist frowned, hating to be reminded of the bloody substance abuse guideline.

Something greater was waiting on them, something worth postponing liquor intoxication yet.

The night unfurled over the picturesque scenery, obscuring vision over empty fields, hills and fjords in motion. The unaired smell of four teenagers squished together in a small space was dissipating every time they opened up the window to smoke, being replaced by the warm evening fragrance. No unwelcome visits from the said train controllers or their exasperating friend followed while they were being clamorous in their own little world.

'Damn, we've got one hour and a half left' Jan let them know, his eyes briefly catching his wrist watch.

'Yeah? Tell me when we've got only 5 more minutes' Olve mocked, leaning leisurely on the berth with his hands behind his head and a cowboy cigarette between his teeth.

'You guys, don't you think that it's time to get loose a little?' Tore teased, fishing for a small bag of weed in his pockets.

'Bring it on, I paid my part of it' the bassist boldly prompted.

'Hell yeah, let’s get ripped' the drummer grinned widely.

When the lead guitarist asked his dealer for something that would keep him and his group energized and ready to rock all night, Sativa strains were their way to go.

Kristian eyed his bandmate meticulously grinding up the green content from the tiny package and rolling two perfect joints.

'Kos deg' Tore wished, handing the bassist the blunt that he was about to share with the rhythm guitarist while he lit up his own for himself and the drummer.

'Oh, tusen takk' the band leader smirked, greedy to upgrade from boring sobriety to guaranteed elation in no time.

Kristian was quick enough to steal the joint from his best friend to take a deep drag, knowing well that Olve wasn't one to share fairly. He resembled him in too many ways to ever be bewildered.

With precise calibration, the rhythm guitarist exhaled slowly. He omitted to cough even when he felt that odious burning sensation in his lungs. Even without drug experience under his belt, he could tell that whatever party-weed his bandmate brought was stronger than anything he ever tried.

Muscles gradually turned lax as he was sharing the blunt back and forth, feeling more placid and calm with every hit he took, but it didn't have the same effect like the first time he got high. There was no somnolence, he didn't feel like physically melting on the spot and no vertigo followed immediately afterwards. Maybe not getting drunk beforehand was the best advice he ever received in his deplorable little life, or maybe this herb was weirdly milder on his brain’s chemistry.

Maybe it wasn't that bad after all to be stuck all together in the longest ride they could take because once the cannabis’ effects installed inside Kristian's system, there was virtually nothing that could bother him anymore.

'Damn, this fucks!' Olve exclaimed, earning a set of sluggish giggles from his bandmates.

Although finding momentary peace inside, Kristian's pulse kept rising alongside a slight buzz in his ears. The white noise grew louder and louder, making him zoom out until he felt his shoulder being vigorously shaken.

'Oi, ground control to Major Tom!' The bassist teased, quoting one of the most famous junkies in British rock history, trying to bring his comrade back to earth.

The rhythm guitarist continued staring back at him, mesmerized for unknown reasons before opening his filterless mouth. 'There's so much space between your eyeballs, you look like a fucking frog'

He heard Jan snort and choke with smoke while Tore straight out broke into copious laughter at his idiotic joke that everybody knew was no joke, but an obvious truth that nobody with an ounce of courtesy dared to frankly point out.

'Funny line, Kris. Tell me another one' the band leader falsely snickered, making it evident that he got pissed.

The rhythm guitarist, on the other side, was dumbly giggling along with the other two intoxicated spectators of his short-lived show. The jovial mood in which he found himself in thanks to the stimulant was simply amazing.

Thirty minutes later and they finished up all of their snacks as well as their last bits of patience betting that they would eventuality reach the end of the fucking world before they reach the capital of Norway.

Although cheerful, maximum animated and forced to stay in place, the lack of inhibitions brought forward some not-so-subtle arousing desires.

Slightly leaning into Olve here and there, fishing for precious tiny glimpses and even going so far to squeeze his knee without their other friends to notice, Kristian was in a feverish rush to get something out of the bassist, anything at all.

Waffling like a broken record about how Bathory's newest EP, Hammerhear absolutely rocked his world, the bassist's attempts to ignore his best friend's subliminal touches were getting weaker and weaker by the minute. Even high as a kite, he couldn't believe Kristian's audacity to put his self-control to the test in front of everyone. He would lie if he said that it didn't bother him, the fear of the other two suspecting anything weird going on was knocking at the gates of his fading consciousness.

He could brush it all off, keep neglecting the rhythm guitarist's lust and play his part smarty or he could take the risk and resolve the issue somewhere more privately. He knew the lethal temptation those blue orbs were transmitting and he knew that refusal fell out of Kristian's range of understatements. But also, the thrill of sneaking out of the compartment for a 'quick one' was the strongest force in the universe.

Ultimately, he gave in, caught eye with his horny comrade and gave him a meaningful look. It was a silent agreement, a guarantee entirely missed by the other two.

Kristian got up on unstable legs, mumbled something akin to 'Nature’s call' and left while his bandmates were still engaged in their Bathory review.

Olve gave him time, although he lost the concept of time before he could come up with an excuse to also leave.

'I'm telling you, Hammerheart sounds like nothing I've ever heard before! Don't get me wrong, Blood Fire Death is still my all time favourite release from them but this one is like a fucking trip into The Viking Age!' The band leader insisted when Jan's opinion differed. 'You know what, I'm gonna ask Jørn what's his take on it'

'Dude, who cares what Jørn thinks?' The drummer giggled although the bassist was already on his way to prove his point, or so he thought.

Waiting in a bathroom tighter than a closet, he felt his heart throb when the door was pushed open and a well-known shit-eating grin saluted him.

'There you are. Thought I'd meet you in the ladies' room'

Kristian sighed at the dull joke, grabbed Olve by the collar of his shirt and locked them inside.

'Hey, woah-'

Without any warning, the rhythm guitarist dropped into his knees, unzipped his best mate's jeans and jumped straight to action.

'Oh, I didn't fucking know I'm so damn irresistible to you' a wild smirk spread on the bassist's lips. 

'Just shut up and fucking move already' Kristian bluntly ordered, pulling the band leader's hips forward as a clumsy indication to have his mouth fucked.

'Good call, but I've got a better idea' Olve replied, pulling his bandmate up on his feet, turning him around to face the dirty wall.

Getting stoned and kind of bored of the good old blowjobs, he took advantage of the rhythm guitarist's slowed reflexes to manhandle him in a more interesting position. To his own amazement, Kristian didn't protest, instead he moaned with need and rubbed himself against the band leader’s crotch.

'You're such a spoiled brat all the time. Can't even go 24 hours without me dicking you, huh?' Olve purred in his ear, squishing him between the bathroom tiles and his heated body. 'Back at my place or out with my friends, it's the same damn thing for you, isn't it? You just have to have it whenever you want it' he undid his best friend's jeans and pulled them down, repeating what they've done once. Although this time, he used the soap on the sink to lubricate his digit before shoving it in.

'I fucking want it' Kristian desperately whined, too out of his mind to be aware of his words.

'Awh, you fucking want it?' The bassist teased, finger-fucking him with ease. 'Right here, right now?' He then pulled out and placed his cock between the rhythm guitarist's cheeks.

Kristian's heart jumped in his chest when he felt something thicker and hotter rubbing teasingly onto his virgin entrance. Driven by sheer excitement, mental alteration and fatal arousal, he begged in the smallest voice.

'Please'

It was all he needed to fill the chronic emptiness. Exhausted of being fed teaspoons of what Olve could offer, he avidly requested more. He didn't know what came upon him as introspection on a poisoned mind was impossible so he couldn't suppress the urge to be taken and made someone's special one at the worst possible time.

'Bend over like a little bitch again and I swear I'll fucking lose it' the bassist provoked, watching his best friend's back arch as he eagerly tried to push back against his erection. He wasn't exaggerating, every muscle in his body felt like snapping at how nicely Kristian was trying to implore him.

Just fucking go for it.

Suddenly, their blood ran cold when they headed a few firm knocks into the bathroom door.

'Shit' Olve panicked. 'Okkupert!' He shouted out loud, distinguishing a masculine voice from the loud rhythmic rumbling of the train.

In a frenzy they dressed up again, absolutely terrified for what they were going to do now that they got caught fooling around in a semi-public toilet.

'What the hell do we do-'

'Keep your head low, alright?'

'What?'

Kristian didn't have time to ask questions when the bassist opened the door and stepped outside in front of him.

'Jeez, come on! Are you people fucking serious??' A completely bashed metalhead argued, barely able to correctly locate the two lovebirds with his finger. 'Bang your chick in the fucking booth!'

'Yeah, sure. Next time' the band leader commented.

He smoothly brought Kristian closer by his waist and walked away rapidly. The rhythm guitarist was bowing out of sheer shame, hoping in the premiere that his long hair and thin build were enough to make his assumed gender pass and escape a catastrophe.

Scared shitless and grateful to all the Nordic divinities that it happened to be a random person and not one of their demented mates, they returned to their compartment entirely forgetting that they entered at the same time until Tore pointed it out with a wasted grin.

'You fuckers, where have you been?’ the lead guitarist wondered. ‘Man, it's like you guys are attached to the hip or something' 

'So, what did Jørn say?' Jan asked, teasingly. 'Is it Bathory's second best?'

'Jørn's stupid. Forget about it' Olve bluntly concluded, having no idea what the drummer was talking about or whatever the subject was prior to going after Kristian. He grabbed the beer bottle from his rucksack and took a generous gulp to ease up the tension of what could've been the biggest ruination of his image.

---

9:45 pm came around literally feeling like winning the lottery because their train trip came to a deeply-awaited end.

Getting down at the end of the road under the sweet influence of multiple toxicants and stepping onto the dry concrete of the Oslo Central Station almost felt like walking on the moon after sitting on their asses for 7 hours straight. But the exhilaration was quickly wiped by the somber realization that they only had 15 minutes to get out to the concert.

Hysterically, they got out on the other side of the station and ran to catch the first free taxi that they laid their eyes on. Because of the train's late arrival, they weren't the only ones desperate to make it to the gig, therefore the race for finding a car was real.

Pure chance was what Kristian would always call whenever Olve somehow managed to find a solution for their imminent dilemma as the bassist forced open the door of a cab and threw himself in the passenger seat.

The poor driver was ready to hand him his wallet at the immediate impression of being assaulted by the gang of long-haired, leather-jacket delinquents that hopped inside his vehicle until the one beside him gave him the urgent indications for where they had to go.

When they turned up at their final destination, the only and last obstacle was waiting in a line that looked like an endless river of greasy locks, but when they pushed past the gates, after having their tickets verified, they had the shock of finding themselves in the middle of an outdoor concentration camp.

Spaced out people bumping into other spaced out people in attempts to get closer to the stage, all-time boozers wobbling on their legs too out of it to stay awake until the actual show began, legions of rockers wearing the same Morbid Angel shirts that were sold at double the price at every merch caravans around them. The foul stench of sweat, cheap beer and nicotine combined with the waves of body heat, ridiculous tightness and the buzzing sound of obnoxiously loud speakers were all signs of a gigantic clusterfuck.

Just like his other time at the Dissection performance, Kristian came way too late to even get a glimpse at what irrelevant band had played in the opening.

The empty scene was equipped with thick smoke and interactive lights, promising the sole reason why everybody gathered tonight, getting more wasted by the second because a metal show was just another word for an Anonymous Alcoholics congregation.

Strategically situated somewhere in the fourth row, Kristian could barely hear his friends talking and giggling in the last minutes before the notorious death metal band made their way onto the stage.

Seeing Tom Araya and Jeff Hanneman play live was a breathless experience for the rhythm guitarist, something that Olve was always envious of, but now there they were together, gazing at Trey Azagthoth while saluting the public before the chaos could begin. Low-tuned guitar riffs, maximum distortion, aggressive drums and complex arrangements was what Altars of Madness was made of. Every single track from their debut album was a downright masterpiece.

He could feel the powerful sound propagation vibrating inside his chest while headbanging with his mates to the extreme music. In no time, he could feel his whole body catching fire at his own erratic movements and the close proximity that he had to endure. High and plastered, in the company of equality fucked up friends, at almost 500 kilometers away from home on a spectacular Friday night, Kristian was living for today, forgetting about anything and everything at the same time.

One song followed another with only a few modest breaks in between. Metalheads were screaming out their abused lungs or whipping their hair back and forth in tune with the glorious solos, forming mosh pits in the crowd like black holes, pulling innocent standbys inside and throwing them on the ground like marionettes.

In a second of unawareness, Kristian almost got dragged into the fighting ring by a crocked stranger if it wasn't for Tore to spot the scene and extract him before anything bad could happen.

The rhythm guitarist and his pack thought that they were backing off fast enough to evade the typical altercation that was coming towards them but being sky high, they escaped at the limit.

Almost two hours later, they reached the climax, rocking hard on the last track that was about to wrap everything up in an everlastingly epic way, Chapel of Ghouls.

Finding their way out from the flock turned out to be the most challenging part of the night as there was no way to avoid stumbling into lunatics and being slowed down by all kinds of manic junkies. Needless to say, no group could keep an intact formation while successfully making it out alive so inevitably, they got lost.

'Hey, wait!' Kristian shouted in an attempt to be heard by the bassist who was slaloming in and out of the mob. 'I can't see the others!' he claimed, looking behind him at the flux and reflux of people moving.

'Well, fuck' Olve paused for a second, turned around, caught a hold on his best friend's wrist and started elbow-fighting his way out of the throng.

Once in the open, the rhythm guitarist noticed the thick smell of fermented malt emanating from the band leader.

When asked about it, the bassist just told him that someone splattered him with their beer can all over his shoulder and right arm while headbanging, reminding them that metal concerts were that type of special event.

Clueless for what to do next, Kristian had no option but to follow Olve to the nearest booze stand for a quick refill, believing the bassist's lazy assurance of 'No worries, they'll know where to find us'.

Cracking open yet another bottle of Bare Øl, he could practically feel his last fragments of judgement slipping away with the effervescent tingle on his tired tongue. Slowly running out of balance, but rapidly running out of memory for what the hell was happening around him, Kristian just realized that a random guy with a pronounced Dutch accent approaches them to ask for toilet indications.

He had zero clue of how long he and Olve just stood there, trying to explain in broken English and incoherent Norsk to the similarly wrecked foreigner where they thought they saw the public stalls. And he had even less of an idea of why in the world they started looking together for the restroom, or something akin to a restroom but when they finally found it, the blond-dreadlocked guy didn't leave without a small 'thank you gift'.

It was a tiny white pill that he effortlessly slipped in the bassist's palm before disappearing behind a thin plastic door.

'Gotta love Holland courtesy' Olve giggled, locking eyes with his bashed bandmate before an unrestrained, contagious grin spread on their lips. 

Chapter Text

There was glitter in the sky, luminous and gorgeous little sparks of fire on the crystalline nocturnal vault.

He didn't know how long it passed since he was gazing into the cosmic void but the pain from having his neck locked in an uncomfortable position broke his dense trance. Looking down, Kristian realized that he was leaning with his back onto the plastic wall of one of those portable bathroom containers. Slowly, he noticed that he was still at the event even if the Morbid Angel concert was already over.

The faint remembrance of Olve crashing the pill that the generous foreigner gave them in two parts using nothing but his hands, then swallowing it down with a gulp of beer was timidly coming back to him, but after that, his film cut abruptly.

His heart was going ballistic inside his ribcage, smashing against it on full power, pumping hot blood into his veins and some sort of numb adrenaline that made him alert but unable to feel anything at the same time. The sensation was simply too strange and odious to describe in human language. The brief consideration that he might actually die from a heart attack crossed his unfastened mind but the almighty euphoria made him brush the concern off with outrageous indifference.

How it was even possible to experience every emotion within the spectrum and static emptiness altogether was beyond his level of comprehension.

At that point, he didn't even know what he was experiencing right then. It could be the weed that he smoked in the train, the alcohol that he drank before and after the show or the possibly amphetamine that he just ingested, but every toxic substance that he poisoned himself with in the neck of a few hours was actively interacting with one another, frying all of his precious brain cells like popcorn.

But the internal corrosion didn't seem that bad when he finally spotted three familiar figures next to him and just like the night sky, his best friend suddenly turned into the most handsome creature that he ever laid his eyes on, but so did Tore and even Jan who were somehow arguing with the band leader.

The peculiar change made no sense because they all looked the same to him, but Kristian knew that there was something about their facial symmetry and the shape of their eyes that made everyone around him seem overly appealing, trust-worthy and sympathetic.

'Guys, where the fuck have you been??' The drummer demanded answers. 'We've been looking for you two for nearly 15 minutes!'

'Hey, we've been around here for 15 minutes, what the hell?' the bassist mumbled. 'We lost you in the crowd, didn't know where you went and thought that nah, fuck it, we'd eventually stumble upon you when this place clears out, you know? But the show is over and these motherfuckers are still here afterpartying like there’s no tomorrow!'

Although also drunk and high, neither Jan nor Tore were blind, so they gradually noticed the absolute gibberish that Olve was quickly speaking.

'What the fuck are you talking about, man?' The drummer questioned, half amused for not understanding shit and half annoyed for wasting so much time trying to find his demented bandmates. 'So, where have you-'

'Uh, Kris? Are you alright?' Tore raised a curious eyebrow at the rhythm guitarist who was casually watching them in the background with his hands in his pockets and a dumb smile on his lips.

'Ja' Kristian replied obliviously, looking straight through the lead guitarist, eerily focused and unable to blink.

Tore couldn’t help but break into laughter at the uncanny behavior. 'Alright, what the heck did you two fuckers take?'

'What-' Jan started only to be cut short by the bassist.

'What do you mean we took? We paid for our drinks! We've been chilling here after the fucking concert!' the band leader stated, his words rushed and excited while his orbs remained completely dull. The darkness was doing him a huge favour in hiding just how huge his pupils had turned.

'Dude, they're fucking gone in their heads' the lead guitarist pushed the drummer in the elbow to make his dumbfounded bandmate aware of the reality. 'Just look at them'

'Oh, are you serious?' Jan snorted while Tore foolishly giggled. 'Are you two fucking serious?'

'I'm being serious all the damn time because I mean to be serious, Jan, but damn, the band was freaking awesome. You should’ve seen it. They looked like a fucking madman while shredding! Literally the best show I ever went to, can you believe that? What are you asking me-'

Having a great laugh at Olve's verbal diarrhea and Kristian's uninterrupted disconnection from the physical world was evident enough that mentally, the lights were on but nobody was home.

The night was still young and promising, only half an hour past midnight and although the big event ended, the bash was still carrying on for those who didn't bother to leave too early. There was virtually nothing to do until 5 in the morning when they had to make it to the train station to catch the ride home and waiting for hours like sore losers on the empty platform was obviously out of question, therefore they returned to the stands.

Socializing was the hardest function when being a pubescent ulcer with misanthropic views and nonconformist tastes in music even when surrounded by his own kind, but socializing came innately after breaking free from the prison of everyday lucidity. Alert and aware of his surroundings but unable to concentrate on any useless word that he was exchanging with a bunch of strangers was part of a brand-new internal freedom that he normally wouldn't allow at all. It didn't matter if it was Jørn or Truls or any other fuckwit that he would've shown his teeth to in any other circumstances, the reasonless hype that erupted inside Kristian made it impossible for him to close his mouth once he opened it.

Olve was no better, actually, he was even worse because he started boasting about how extreme and evil his little band was to another boaster who he met while waiting in line for beer.

It was the bassist's call, of course. As soon as they could feel the slightest impression of getting sober, they had to drink a bit more. The fact that the guy was Swedish, made Olve merciless to the one in his attempts to brag, considering that their 'weak' Scandinavian neighbours could never come close to the rabid and ultra revolutionary, true Norwegian metal. 

As soon as his most faithful friend needed a backup to reassure his deliriously dogmatic point, the rhythm guitarist joined, echoing his comrade's words like an angry parrot, inevitably bringing political views into the discussion and nullifying the poor kid's opinion, or so he thought in his phantasmagorical mind.

Shortly after that, the reality flicked again because the moment in which Kristian took another sip of rancid beer, he threw up like a toddler. It was then when his body decided that enough was enough while he still had no idea why he even accepted the bottle from Jørn in the first place. The stomach sickness was bugging him since madly headbanging through all of the show but after spilling up like an artesian fountain while holding onto a fence, he felt proud of himself for resisting that long.

'Hej, er du ok?'

Looking up from his applaudable misery, the rhythm guitarist could see the blurry outline of a girl approaching him with what seemed to be a bottle in hand and for all that was holy, he hoped it was water in it.

'Oh, I think I'm gonna be sick too!' The bassist commented theatrically, leaning on the barbed barricade.

'Hey, dude!' Jan shouted when he spotted a good, old friend's face.

'Hey, I didn't even think you came here!' Harald smiled at the unexpected reunion with the group.

'Ooh, long time no see!' Tore added. 'How's it going, man?'

'It's going' the ex lead guitarist nervously laughed. He looked over his shoulder at his girlfriend who was only a few meters away from him, helping the poor kid who was vomiting his insides out. 'What the hell happened there?'

'Oh, Kris and Abbath had partied too hard' Tore simply shrugged.

---

'Do you need more water?'

Kristian was still heaving, clutching the half empty plastic bottle in his hands for his dear life and making a total fool out of himself.

'I do! I feel really fucking hot all of a sudden, I think I’ve got a fever' Olve grinned, tugging at his beer-spilled and dried t-shirt just to get an ounce of feminine attention. 'I think I'm gonna pass out-'

'What in the fucking world are you doing, bastard?' Harald came from behind with his arms crossed at his chest and a tired expression on his face.

'Oh.. oh! Demonaz!' The band leader quickly frowned in disappointment before his eyes lit up at seeing his once best friend. 'What a tiny damn world!-'

The white noise in Kristian's eardrums blocked his bandmate's sporadic babbling.

Drooling from the mouth and pressing heavily with his forehead onto the fence that caged the open area in which the event took place, he closed his eyes only for a second in hope to quietly disintegrate in the background.

No memory for what happened when he opened his tired orbs again came to him and no recall for when his mates decided to leave followed afterwards. It was just like he magically teleported from one side of town to the other. He realized that he was walking, loosely holding onto Tore and Olve but walking on his feet nevertheless.

Oh, a slippery establishment resonated through his cognition. It was the second time he lost consciousness tonight.

'Where am I?' He mumbled out the question, slowly coming to his senses.

'Dude!'

'Kris! You're alive! Thank Satan!'

Trying to understand people who were talking one over the other was like experiencing a schizophrenia simulation in real time, so he gave up, catching only bits and fragments of how they all left in a hurry when Jørn got into a fight with a bunch of guys from Finland. He would've liked to see how the bastard got a bloody nose for pissing off the wrong people and how all the friends that he could count on fucked off faster than he could've imagined.

It was 3:30 am when Harald and his girlfriend split paths with them, a time in which the rhythm guitarist was still as stoned as a biblical whore due to the prolonged duration of god knows what that silly pill contained.

Tottering down the busy streets of Oslo while wasted beyond belief, the two misfits would alternate between mumbling unintelligible words, laughing at nothing and getting easily distracted or weirdly fascinated by random, regular things they were going past. 

The bassist was horribly singing Fear of the Dark by Iron Maiden, now leaning heavily on Kristian's shoulder, almost redirecting him in a ditch for at least 5 times while the rhythm guitarist was obtusely giggling, insulting his best friend's unpolished vocal talent, cutting himself mid sentence whenever something interesting captivated his attention or popped into his scattered mind.

Jan and Tore had the fun of their lives listening to the duo, indulging themselves into the shared delirium.

Passing by a Non-Stop neon sign, they didn't think twice before barging into the corner shop like bandits.

Dying of hunger after hours of consuming anything but food, they greedily grabbed a bunch of salty snacks and cheap sweets and went to the cashier. A mysterious craving for something cold, refreshing and especially milk-based sent Kristian on a mission to the fridge section and like the slippery appendix that he was, Olve followed him there.

'What are you looking for?' The bassist slurred, already popping open his bag of mini pretzels before even paying for it.

'Yogurt' the rhythm guitarist plainly replied, taking not one, but 6 cups of yogurt from the shelf.

'Cool, I want some too' the bassist casually let him know like he did with everything that his bandmates would get.

‘Paws down, you fatass!’

Hearing Jan's voice calling for them to 'come on', Olve took a few more cups, shoved them in Kristian's infinite pockets and ran after their friends.

Instead of paying for what they took, the two literally burst out of the shop, urging the drummer and the lead guitarist to do the same.

Out of breath and maniacally laughing at their own shenanigans, they slowed down once they were far enough, then bombarded the ludicrous duo with 'what the hell' questions, although there were things in the world that lacked any reasonable explanation.

Pleased with his petite felony, Kristian threw the small lid off and almost swallowed the whole cup of yogurt in one go. Just like he thought, the salty, thick dairy treat was all that he needed to refill his abused intestines with. Splitting equally wasn't his forte and it will never be, but Olve was quick enough to snatch some yogurts from himself.

Jan was just bewildered to see cup and cup being pulled out of the rhythm guitarist's leather jacket like rabbits from a bell topper hat. Tore already knew the trick because that wasn't even the craziest thing that Kristian ever extracted from his pockets.

Being kept in high spirits by synthetic measures, animated by his own imprudence and his mate's antics, free of care and free of complex thinking, Kristian must've reached the peak of drug euphoria. It was a wonderful experience especially because he wasn't alone in it. Even if he couldn't tell the night from the day, he would bet everything on the fact that Olve was feeling what he was feeling now and if they could both exist forever in those brief moments of exultation the world would be a better place for everyone.

Walking in a charming dream where the crescent was shining bright over them, wrapping everything in a soft, fuzzy glow, diluting the building's sharp edges and saturating the traffic lights in vibrant blobs of color, the capital never looked more glamorous and his friends never seemed more lively. Unrushedly, metaphysical notions and visual proportions started to slip away from him again while he was thriving in the newly-found inner tranquility.

Olve seemed to be the only one who got him when he said that the city was otherworldly beautiful tonight. He could see the same assembled magnificence and he could hear the urban noises being tuned low like a cassette playing in slow motion.

They both entered an identical concoct this time, proving Kristian without a doubt that they were one consciousness split in two bodies, showing him that he wasn’t all alone in this fucked up world. He has been feeling lonely since forever and now he found his identical twin within the heavy metal tribe.

Fading in and out of what was real and what was fabric of imagination or substance-induced detachment, at that point they were already in a mind-status of dissociative perfection.

15 minutes later and Kristian returned from his thought-coma again. Sitting on a plastic chair and shivering from the very early morning crisp that was blowing from all directions, he had absolutely no clue where the hell he was until Tore told him that they made it to the train station.

Olve was sitting on his right with his back low in his chair, arms crossed and legs stretched forward so he would bother everyone who might walk by. A worn out face and a cigarette burning out between his tight lips let their friends know that he was still lost in his own head, although the rhythm guitarist wasn't fully convinced yet.

'Hey, asshole' he weakly teased, shoving his best friend in the shoulder to break his trance. When his try proved effectless, he snapped his fingers in front of those dull orbs but nothing worked. 'Is he broken?' He genuinely asked the lead guitarist who shrugged just as perplexed as him.

'I don't know. I hope not' Tore nervously smiled.

---

About 4 cigarettes and an hour later, the train station started to fill with the last-standing leather-jacket survivors that were just conscious enough to remember that there was a ride coming in less than one hour to take them all back to their flavourless hometown.

It was like a zombie apocalypse was taking place right before him with half-dressed, half-mobile, sickening-pale figures, moaning in unison and dragging their combat boots and stinky sneakers onto the platform.

Out of the fortunate ones that successfully rescued themselves from the manic experience of the breathtaking concert, Kristian and his clique could be counted in while patiently waiting to be returned and released into the jungle of Bergen.

A bunch of stupidly drunk teenagers, based on volume and the range of noises made everyone wonder who the fuck still had the energy to yell and talk after the whole ordeal.

Finally, the train arrived at 5 am, forcing Kristian to unlock his ass from the chair and go to rot in another place for the next 7 hours.

If agitation and hyperactivity had dictated the general mood of the journey on their way to Oslo, now, at the return, everyone felt like attending their own funeral. Morbid silence, pure and utterly undisturbed silence was ruling over every compartment as everybody was most definitely passed out.

Curled in a ball, on the berth that he was sharing with his best friend, Kristian was desperately trying to ignore the loud engine noise and drift into blissful unconsciousness.

Using the rhythm guitarist as a human pillow because he lost his backpack and had no better alternative for comfort, Olve was peacefully sleeping, semi-spooning his comrade. With one leg carelessly thrown over Kristian's hip, the bassist was softly snorting without a worry. 

How he envied that bloody buffoon for being able to nap through detonating bombs and natural disasters and he couldn't even close an eye after being dragged through hell and back.

On the berth parallel with them, Jan was sleeping with his jacket over his face to block the discreet sun rays that were growing by minute. The drummer shamelessly took up the whole space when Tore got up and went to throw up in the bathroom.

20 minutes had passed since the lead guitarist was still out there, either blacked out from sheer exhaustion or lost on the tight train corridor, trying to find their booth. At least the thought of somebody else suffering concomitant with him, gave Kristian a bit of closure.

Sometime later, bloodshot blue eyes finally rolled in the back of his skull and the world went black.

Trying to find rest and catch up with the minimum hours of sleep in a tiny, wood box on a narrow, hard-leather bench seat that should somehow qualify as a 'bed' was simply impossible.

The four of them were waking up every 30 minutes when the soreness in their muscles and the sharp pain on their backs were reaching excruciating levels. Groaning and cursing eventually turned into pushing, shoving and fighting for space, essentially for just a few more centimeters to stretch their long limbs.

Olve gave Kristian no chance to claim a bit of territory as he pressed his best friend into the window corner, although at that point, the rhythm guitarist was just so dog-tired that he accepted his crude fate.

---

He didn't know what time it was when he cracked his orbs open, but judging by the sun's position in the sky, it must've been around early noon.

Briefly scanning his surroundings, he spotted Jan's head resting at the very edge of the berth. His face was as red as a tomato due to blood being pushed by gravity. His legs were entangled with Tore's as they were both dozing out in the opposite corners.

The urge to puke again was gradually growing inside Kristian's stomach but he didn't want to get up yet, not when he realized that Olve has gone somewhere and he had some room to extend his body. However, not long after he fell asleep again, he was compelled to wake up, jump straight up and visit the train's restroom for another unceremonious purge.

Frantically pushing both doors open to run to the toilet, he nearly knocked out the band leader that was ready to return to the compartment.

'Hey, what's up-'

But the rhythm guitarist literally flew by him before he could finish his words. He barely made it in time before emptying his guts on the train's hallway.

Once done, he flushed it all away and got up on limp knees to wash up his face at the sink. The reflection that he noticed in the mirror was unrecognizable with dark, purple bags under his eyes and pale, borderline grey skin. He could have sworn that he was staring back at his own ghost as if he actually died last night or sometime this morning and failed to register his spiritual departure. The visceral thought made him touch his face, making him wonder about his own devotion to realism.

The eerie feeling of breathing inside a mirage was continuing to linger in his cerebrum, confusing him even after a few hours of slumber. He must still be high.

When he got out, he didn't expect to see the bassist waiting for him.

'Spewing up again?' A rhetorical eyebrow was raised in question.

He just groaned in reply.

---

Staying on the dusty corridor of the carriage in front of an open window with a new-lit cigarette between their shaky fingers, they could feel the warm breeze playing through their hair and the timid sun of mid-spring kissing their faces.

The permanent lethargy combined with the existential restlessness was delaying their return to their bandmates.

Absent-mindedly, Kristian was staring at the viridescent lands they were passing. It was just when Olve broke the silence that he remembered his own presence.

'One more hour and we're back'

No trace of enthusiasm could be deduced and the rhythm guitarist blamed it on the general fatigue, but he knew that even without that, his best friend loathed coming back to his everyday responsibility. They both did.

'Are you still high?' Warm brown eyes meet crystal blue once again.

'I don't know.. I genuinely don't know how I feel right now' Kristian mumbled, blowing out the poisonous nicotine outside the window. '.. are you?'

'I guess so' the band leader nervously giggled. 'I just feel weird, but in a good way’ he confessed. 'Damn, I kinda regret not getting that guy's number because that fucking pill swept me off my feet, man'

The rhythm guitarist raised a skeptical eyebrow. 'That good, huh?'

'Fuck yes, I was in cloud nine and it's been almost 10 hours since I took it and I still feel a bit of that fuzzy feeling inside. What the hell was with that pill? I need to know because I can't feel this good only once in my life and never again'

Truth be told, Kristian highly doubted that half of a magic pilule alone would be able to keep his bandmate ecstatic for so long, so it must've been a combination of everything they took last night throughout the whole night. His analogue made him naturally roll his eyes at the bassist's silly presumption.

'It's just some drug, get over it'

'Easier said than done' Olve chuckled, brushing his best friend's opinion off. 'It makes booze seem like a fucking joke. I've never reached this state before and I drink like a fucking fish'

'Ugh, why are you so damn obsessed with getting shit-faced so much?' Kristian rubbed the somnolence from his eyes, losing patience with the other insisting on the subject.

'Why not?' The bassist simply shrugged, asking back like a smart-ass. 'I mean, don't you like it when you're completely free of all the things that trouble you?'

'I don't like losing control. That's one of my biggest fears of getting stupidly high or drunk even if I do it more regularly now. I do it because you also do it, but I wouldn’t on my own' He admitted. 'I know I shouldn't care about this stuff and I don't, but I still do.. sometimes. I can't help it'

'Huh, you never listen to my advice, do you?' The band leader asked rhetorically. 'Forget about everything. Let loose and have fun. Life's too short not to live it to the fullest, I’m telling you'

Brief silence befell, time in which Kristian took advantage of the bassist's blatant transparency and asked straightforwardly.

'So, why do you retard drink so much?'

He wanted to know the real reason because there were too many instances in which his best friend would hit the bottle for something else than just to ‘have fun’.

A subtle chuckle slipped past Olve's lips before they turned flat and he raised his eyebrows in a gatekeeping manner. 'Well, I drink for the good times and I drink for the bad times’

‘And what are your bad times?’ 

‘Let's just say that I don't like myself sober that much '

The vague confession substantiated Kristian's speculations, therefore he dropped the conversation. He couldn't concentrate on more than two words and he doubted that the band leader could carry on any type of profound self-reflection in his shape.

'Will you go to your house when we arrive?'

It was a good question because the notion of belonging to a household completely evaporated in the while, however, he knew the subliminal longing in his comrade's tone too well.

'No, I'm coming with you'

Once done, they threw the filters out the window, closed it and decided to return to the compartment to find their bandmates awake, hungry and light-headed.

---

The clock showed 12:30 am when they arrived at Bergen station. From there, they took a bus ride to where they lived. After 30 minutes Tore and Jan got down in Lysekloster while the other two kept going until they reached the end of the line.

Kristian felt weird for having to come with with an excuse for why after a crazy night of partying and rocking hard he didn't go straight home and instead preferred to crash at his best friend's place, but he blamed it on his mother's boyfriend and hoped that his peers wouldn't get suspicious about something else going on.

Entering through the front door, the rhythm guitarist rapidly took off his shoes, unbuckled his belt and went to lay down on the first piece of furniture that he located, in that case, the couch.

The heavenly sentiment of inner harmony of resting on something softer than a slightly-cushioned piece of wood made him grateful towards the implied modesty in his best friend's residence. And like a domestic feline disturbed from its well-deserved siesta, he groaned when he felt arms wrapped around him, but didn't protest.

There was little to no room for spooning on the sofa but neither one cared when all they wanted was to naively seek comfort in each other’s personal space. There was no name for the status that they were in, but perhaps it was for the best to keep it a mystery. Anyhow, Kristian didn't mind the warmth and tenderness that they lately embraced.

Chapter Text

Rain was falling down like a cascade from the blackened firmament above the city.

It was like Freyr and all of the gods suddenly decided to dump the whole ocean onto mortal's heads and watch them drown like sailors on a sinking boat, or at least so Kristian thought while running towards the bus that merely waited for him

He must've been out of his mind to get out in the middle of a bloody storm, but there was no way in which he could stay at home while his mother's favourite came over. Therefore, one of them had to go, and at this point she would rather keep that insidious man sheltered in her highest graces than her own flesh and blood, her youngest child.

Feelings that once used to hurt terribly, now barely moved his inner world. He found a replacement, somebody less capricious and unpredictable, somebody who was longing for him in his absence, putting him first like a personal religion. Somebody who couldn't nurture him the way he truly needed to, but he would like to think he could.

How good it would've been if he could.

Only a couple of days had passed since the concert in Oslo and Kristian could tell that a few things had changed. After the absolute worst, most guttural hangover that he and Olve miraculously lived through, the bassist became even more fixated on his filthy vice, drinking even heavier than before.

The habit didn't bother him that much since his best friend was an inoffensive drunk, mostly goofy and stupid, never violent or batshit crazy. But the fact that the band leader was trying harder and harder to escape whatever he was fighting inside was unnerving to say the least.

---

'Look who’s here when it comes down in buckets. Velkomst'

An indolent smile welcomed him at the entryway.

Lasting days of pouring rain were better enjoyed with some company in front of the television or playing instruments in the living room. They didn't even need a plan, everything always happened by chance, just like their hookups and other private activities. And after all, what better to do after a long day at work or 8 hours at school than get off?

'Do you wanna fuck?'

'What?'

The rhythm guitarist snapped his head around in shock at how nonchalantly his comrade threw the vulgar question.

'What do you mean by what? You seemed to be pretty fucking serious about it in the train, remember?' Olve grinned from the couch, crossing his arms in triumph as if he knew better.

'Ugh, I was totally ripped when I said that' Kristian admitted, frustrated and embarrassed at the same time.

'Oh, so it's cancelled now?'

'I.. didn't say that'

He averted his eyes, self-aware of his unwillingness guided by fear. How easy it was back to get intoxicated, hopelessly horny and nevertheless ready for action.

'Then, what do you wanna?'

He didn't even realize when the bassist crawled next to him because he himself had troubles understanding what he wanted to do next.

'We can try if you're up to' Olve added, placid and relaxed. 'We've got all day long, so..'

'Fine' the rhythm guitarist finally agreed, his undying will to get closer to his best friend winning against his crippling anxiety.

'Nice' a smooth smile curved on the band leader's lips. 'Hey, by the way, check out what I've got' he got up and went to find his leather jacket.

'Where did you get this?'

A bushy eyebrow was raised suspiciously while inspecting the small bottle of lubricant that his best friend pulled out of his pocket.

'I borrowed it from Jørn' the bassist simply shrugged. 'He had to slip through his ex-girlfriend's backdoor because she was terrified of what would happen if her crazy folks found out that she lost her virginity'

'What?'

'Yeah, he used to tell us all about it when we were drinking in Hulen but I guess you probably block everything that fucker talks, so.. anyway, he says it works wonders on any stubborn chick'

Holding back for a good reason, Kristian omitted to comment.

'Hey, it's cool. I thought about it hurting, that's why I got this thing' Olve immediate assured, sensing the other's distress.

'Do you also have condoms, right?'

'Yeah, why?'

'Well, isn't it logical to use them?'

'You think I might knock you up, Kris?'

Sighing loudly, he gave up on his suggestion so he wouldn't look like a total loser in front of his teasing bandmate.

'How do we do this?' The rhythm guitarist lastly asked.

'I’d say let's obey the laws of nature and have me fuck you instead of-' Olve's joke was cut short by a quick glance.

'No, I mean seriously' Kristian emphasized.

'I don't know, uh.. we do it like we do everything else?' The bassist thought out loud. 'It would probably feel better in bed than on the couch'

The newest wave of awkwardness was palpable and there was no reason for it to exist since they've explored each other's bodies so much at this point that getting in bed for naughty playtimes was a casual, everyday activity. Yet, this was different.

It was Kristian's fault for perpetuating that nervous sentiment because Olve didn't seem to have a second doubt about what they were about to do, and knowing the bassist like the back of his hand, he could bet all of his mother’s money that he's been waiting for ages like a dog in heat for this exact moment. He couldn't blame his eagerness when he also was excited of losing his purity, if he ever had one, but he didn't quite expect that he would be the one in the most vulnerable position. 

It should've been with a beautiful girl, somewhere in his distant fantasies, back when he thought he knew himself best. But now, it should be with his actual crush, that one stupid boy that found something in his rotten foundation and gave it value.

It was like the band leader could strangely read his mind because when they got in bed, he took his t-shirt off, opened up his jeans and started to lazily stroke himself.

'Come here'

The voice was light and alluring, lacking any substantial command.

Kristian did as told, crawling next to his best friend, allowing Olve’s left hand to softly caress his cheek while his chestnut eyes remained soaked in lust. The rhythm guitarist blinked slowly as fingers were brushing his honey-coloured hair behind his ear like he always did as a mute plea. The gentle persuasion made him give in and lower his mouth on the bassist's erection.

Every sexual favour that he gave, he only gave for the premise that he would receive the equivalent in any form that his best friend could offer. Simply put, even with the weight of all the romantic feelings accumulated in the background, nothing came for free. The bassist was well aware of this aspect, already palming his bandmate through his jeans to give him a boost of motivation.

Kristian just hummed in pleasure for being groped, sending a delicious tremor through the band leader's cock. He could sense the sheer excitement running through his comrade's body as he was rapidly getting impatient, pushing his hips forward, urging him to swallow more.

The hand that was feeling up the rhythm guitarist’s crotch began to unbutton his pants, shocking him with such an intuitive initiative. But when he thought that Olve was about to grab his semi-flaccid member, he shoved his hand in the back of his jeans, groping his ass instead.

Fair enough.

He kept sucking and nibbling at the bassist's hard cock while having his entrance teased.

Considering how tight the rhythm guitarist's pants were combined with the angle in which he was sitting, Olve could barely reach anywhere. Mildly frustrated, he groaned, making Kristian stop and raise his head with a questioning look in his eyes.

'Ugh, I wanna touch you but I can't do much like that' the band leader explained. 'Do you wanna get off your clothes?'

The rhythm guitarist briefly hesitated at the request before replying 'Sure'

But it wasn't easy. There was no big deal in it considering that Olve had seen everything that was meant to be seen and even more, but it was, being entirely exposed, all at once. He felt shy to strip completely naked in front of another person but he did it, keeping his gaze down so he wouldn't have to stare directly at the bassist while taking off every piece of clothing. He didn't fancy his physical appearance and he had no idea what his best friend might think of him like that, but now there was no way to turn around.

Olve, alternatively, couldn't help but gawk at the thinly-shaped physique in front of him. Milky-white thighs that never felt the warm touch of the sun and long, almost hairless legs. He took a good look at everything that inevitably turned him on, forcing himself to straight out deny the most evident issue.

So pristine and so intact, unexplored lands of ivory skin. A silvery-glowing treasure all for himself.

'Can you too..?'

It was then when they met eyes and the band leader noticed the profoundly redness in his comrade's cheeks. He couldn’t help but find it sweeter than wine.

'Yeah' the bassist mumbled, proceeding to undress from his worn-out jeans and underwear, remaining just as bare as his best friend.

Kristian bit his lip, loving the contrast but also the redistributed equality. Innerly, he felt clogged with incandescent arousal. His pulse increased drastically at the infinite possibilities that he was presented with but before he could act on pure instincts and do something outlandish like stealing a kiss or two, Olve caught his wrist and pulled him onto the mattress.

He opened up the bottle of lubricant, poured some in his hand before asking. 'So, wanna get back to it-'

He didn't even have to question because his bandmate curled on his side, grabbed his erection and gave it a long lick from the base to the tip.

In the meantime, he pushed his slippery finger through the rhythm guitarist's tight ring of muscles, earning a soft cry in response.

Kristian could tell that Olve's initial rush slowed down as he took his sweet time to open him up, led by an uncanny type of patience that he didn't know he had in him. The rhythm guitarist kept sucking, or rather playing and teasing with his tongue while enjoying every second of sensual invasion within his virgin core.

Naturally, one finger followed another one and just like that the bassist began scissoring the two, digging inside that hot and delicate passage in which he was dying to enter with his aching member. He didn't have many occasions to finger fuck his best friend, in fact, he only did it twice, but he knew that the other metalhead was masturbating himself like that almost daily, craving something bigger. The lascivious mental image of Kristian trying so desperately to compensate for the lack of intercourse locked in his own bathroom or bed was exactly that rendered the band leader to lose it. And he wanted to lose it, pin his bandmate down and shove his thick cock right in, take everything that he couldn't until now and have his selfish way with him.

But he couldn't.

He had to do things the right way if he wanted to repeat what they were about to do now. Besides, there was no kick in hurting his most valuable companion in the heat of the moment. He never had it in him to be this cold and callous.

The rhythm guitarist's moans were muffled by the tool that his mouth was attached to. He was finding it harder and harder to concentrate on his task when the bassist's fingers were stroking his insides ever so nicely. His own flustered cock was throbbing on one of his thighs, smearing his flawless skin with tiny traces of precum. He could sweat that if the band leader was continuing his preparation for much longer, he would inevitably want to come with or without further penetration.

After what seemed like agonizingly long 15 minutes, Olve finally retracted his digits, considering that he made enough progress to go further. Kristian groaned in protest, getting too accustomed to being spoiled rotten, however, he raised his head up to face his fear.

'I think you're good to give it a shot' Olve suggested, pouring a generous amount of lubricant on his member for safety measures.

'How do we do this? I mean..' the rhythm guitarist let his question open, awkwardly.

'Well, uh, we can do it from behind or if you wanna..' the bassist mumbled until he spotted something. 'No, wait, I've got a better idea'

Kristian looked skeptically when Olve put a pillow in the middle of the bed and told him to lie on his stomach on it.

It was strange to sit like that with his bare butt slightly evaluated and totally revealed, but he felt more relaxed than having to bend and it secured a bit of dignity that he would've had lost on all fours. Feeling the bassist's nakedness while lowering his body on top of him was way too real and so was having his cheeks spread.

'Damn, wish you could see the view' the band leader chuckled, entranced by the sheer pornography of his immediate sight.

'Just.. go on already' The rhythm guitarist groaned, hurried by final anticipation. 

The hot hardness that was teasingly rubbing against his entrance was too much to endure. He had to have his fill. But before he could whine again about that, his mouth opened but no sound came out. He froze on the spot as his best friend pushed himself in. The sharp pain that shot through him was a killer, but he bit his lip to suppress any cry and tightened his fists while Olve kept slowly diving inside, centimeter by centimeter until the band leader's pelvic bone was pressed flat against his rear.

'Fuck, Kris' the bassist moaned right into his bandmate's ear, taken aback by the ungodly pleasure of having his most sensitive extremity wrapped in a rapturous velvet-like, moist, heat. He couldn't help but pull his hips back and rock them forward winning a sharp hiss in reply. 'You're so fucking tight'

Having the band leader rock inside him only amplified the general discomfort. With each thrust, he could feel the other gaining confidence and losing more and more of his initial restraint.

'You good?' Olve hummed in wonder but it was more than obvious that he was hopelessly dissolved in his own carnal heaven.

'Y-es' Kristian lied through his teeth, staying as rigid as he could to minimize the pain.

'Are you sure? Because you squeezed me so hard, I can barely move' the bassist teased playfully but the more he noticed the stiffness of his bandmate's body, the gentler he tried to remain. 'Relax' he cooed, touching Kristian's earlobe with his wet lips.

A needy cry escaped from the other metalhead. Hearing the bassist's panting and groaning, almost frustrated for how gradual he had to go, was a delicious distraction from the hideous sensation of being split in two.

Breathing hotly into the dirty sheets, deep blue eyes fell shut in an attempt to lax his muscles. The ultimate closeness was undeniably thrilling and the raw friction of bare skin against bare skin was setting his sweat on fire. He could finally feel everything that he's been imagining for so long and even more because reality always beats his fantasies.

The internal ache never dissipated, but Kristian learned to go with it, searching for anything else that could top it.

Olve's movements became smoother as the rhythm guitarist allowed him to gain a bit of speed. It was what they both wanted after all. It was a shame that the bassist couldn't embrace him anyhow having to hold his own weight in his arms, but it was a total delight to feel his parted lips accidentally touch the side of his neck and cheek with every push.

Cries of pleasure and pain were echoing into the dimly lit bedroom more urgently with every minute while accelerating the cadence.

It was now that the rhythm guitarist knew he couldn't stop his comrade even if he wanted to. With quick shoves intensifying, long damp hair falling into his face and heart beating out of his chest, Olve mindlessly mumbled into Kristian's damp nape.

'I'm getting close, so fucking close'

Blinded by the soreness that couldn't be denied anymore, the notification came and went by the rhythm guitarist's ear. He could feel a strange mantra of numbness settling inside his body and mind, taking him away from what he was experiencing in real time. He heard his best friend's low growl as he came inside him, filling him with the affection that he hopelessly depended on.

Having his cock and balls squished into the soft pillow underneath left him with no room to take care of himself but even if he could, he doubted that an orgasm could be obtained when being repeatedly stabbed with a hard dick.

When the band leader collapsed on top of him, he then realized that their amorous session was truly over.

'Holy shit, man' Olve murmured out of breath. 'I can't believe we fucking did it'

It was true because neither Kristian could fully comprehend it, but he groaned at being crushed, causing the band leader to roll over.

'Did you come?'

'How the hell could I come like this?'

The dull hostility in his voice was a mirror to the dissatisfaction that he was facing. As quick as it began, it ended with him being left out. But contrary to his grim expectations, Olve turned him on his back and grabbed his almost limp member.

'Stop it' Kristian protested although it was exactly what he wanted in the first place. It was mandatory to declare groundless objections that meant the opposite of his words.

'Too bad but I don't like poor reviews' the bassist chuckled, despite his aversion to touching same sex genitals. If he was lucky, he could make his best friend climax easily and terminate his awful task in no time.

The glistening perspiration running down the rhythm guitarist's torso, the deep redness spread across his face and those gorgeous thighs that were getting more restless with every stroke the bassist gave. It was impossible to deny his bandmate's natural beauty and grace. It was unsettling how much spite and malice could hide behind that effeminate facet, it made it so hard to believe that Kristian would be capable of despicable things if having his trigger pulled. In short, he was a loaded gun and Olve was crazed enough to play with him like it was a water pistol.

But he liked it, he liked handling something that he shouldn't. The wonderful sight of making his best friend reach the maximum amount of pleasure and burst out went straight to his ego, fossilizing the evidence of his indisputable grandeur and all mighty.

Perhaps, he was really that skilled or perhaps he was believing his own lie, but there were many reasons to make someone feel good and the most privileged one was simply because he could.

'That was even better than I fucking dreamed of' the bassist chuckled, satisfied.

Mentally emptied in the best sense of the word but also feeling mildly detached from his corpus, Kristian groaned when he tried to move from his spot. The burning sensation within him was persistent even after indulging in culmination but regardless of the present inconvenience, he stated.

'It was fine'

A subtle look of suspicion crossed Olve's face but his bandmate just exhaled tiredly and got out of bed.

---

The water was cold and merciless when they got into the bathtub to take a well-deserved shower. It was a tough lesson that reminded them to put some damn wood in the stove to make the boiler work next time they decided to get laid.

Kristian was trying to wash himself as quickly as possible so he wouldn't have to suffer from the awkwardness of the domestic scenario in which he found himself. They could've taken turns separately if the band leader wouldn't bitch on end about bills and such or poke overly predictable fun about 'how to save water'.

'So-' the band leader started in a typically confident manner.

'Shut the fuck up already' Kristian cut him off right away. He wasn't in an awful mood yet and he didn't want to get there by hearing the other metalhead fishing for post-coitus compliments.

'Oh, are you saying you didn't like it?' The bassist teased, but his comrade overtly ignored him and reached for the shampoo bottle.

Wiping the moisture off his face, the rhythm guitarist was ready to step out when he heard the shower stop and a wet figure blocking his way. When their eyes met, warm brown orbs struck him with emergency.

'Tell me for real now, was it really that bad ?'

Olve wasn't good at muting his own insecurities before they could silently scream in the rhythm guitarist's face.

It was again one of those times in which Kristian didn't want to give him what he wanted, so he breathed out in irritation and moved past his bandmate, slipping a dull 'Piss off'.

There was no anger beyond the insult as he wanted to portray, he just didn't know how to cope with after-sex domesticity. Like in many other instances, he wished to be less acidic with the one that meant so much to him, but being sardonic and crude was second nature while being soft was hard labour. 

Dressed up but with his hair still damp, he followed Olve into the kitchen to see him grab a cold beer from the fridge, open the bottle and drown half of it down his throat in one go.

'It tastes so much better after a good fuck. Wanna try?' The bassist smoothly suggested, handing his best friend the beverage.

It made no difference on Kristian’s tongue, yet he gave it a taste anyway. He grimaced in disgust but took another gulp right after just to ease up his mixed feelings.

Olve, on the other hand, found the booze wonderful no matter how horrid it tasted, making sure to never run out of it. Taking out the homemade vodka from the kitchen pantry was what came after.

He wasn't even trying to hide his latest cravings anymore. He desperately wanted to feel that buzz again, that cosmic depersonalization that the night out in the capital provided, shaking his entire world and direction in life, but he knew that no matter how much he drank, it didn't even come close to the enchantment that only hard drugs could offer. And this was the beginning of a new, unsolving problem.

---

After a couple of weak beers and a few shots of that godawful moonshine, a charming type of lethargy was introduced into their systems. Neither one could tell if the warmth that was growing inside them was marking the fragile evolution of deeper romantic feelings or if it was just the alcohol burning their throats and guts in revenge for their shared stupidity.

Sitting down wasn't quite easy yet, but part of Kristian's soreness was eclipsed by Olve's head that fell sleepily on his shoulder while binge-watching slasher movies.

'Do you mind?' The bassist cooed, his lips pressed onto the tender skin of his bandmate's clavicle. He breathed in the fresh scent of mint and the dolce aroma of Kristian’s flesh.

'Want to take a guess?' The rhythm guitarist purred back, tilting his head slightly to permit more attention on his skin.

If the band leader raised his head now, he would've kissed him without a warning but he could never be that bold and ruin everything that he meticulously built like an architect. Besides, he wasn't the one who should take all the missed steps in their nameless entanglement, although the temptation was eating him alive.

'Are you going soon?'

Kristian blinked at the sudden wonder. It was simply ridiculous for how often he had to answer but it was one of the very rare repetitions that never drove him mad.

Is that his biggest fear?

Maybe there was one thing to value in his best friend's compulsive inebriation and that was how easily he would end up wearing his heart on his sleeve, allowing his codependency to pour out like a river.

'No' the rhythm shook his head in negation. 'I'm staying over'

'But you'll have to catch the bus in the morning' Olve mumbled, somnolence lacing his last words.

'So what?' Kristian hummed in tranquility. 'I do it all the time'

He refused to go away when arms loosely wrapped around his waist, but what he wouldn't give for the bassist to pamper him with this kind of trauma-bonded attachment on a cloudless mind.

...maybe in time..

The hopeful thought continued to linger until they both fell asleep, unconsciously cuddling on the couch. 

Chapter Text

The temperature was rapidly rising on the west coast, turning dog days from a distant dream into a palpable premonition. Even when the skies continued to be colourless, at least the consistent warmth and the nature's bloom were uplifting.

May was a metaphor for the hardest weeks before the summer break came with its implied liberty. May was filled with exams, thesis and useless scholar projects that would crucially dictate Kristian's annual promotion or miserable failure.

Typically, being the one to stress over everything in his silly life, real or imaginary, the rhythm guitarist was trying to finish one of his philosophy lectures that he flagrantly abandoned at the beginning of the semester, but the annoying noise of his comrade playing Blasphemy in the background was ruining his focus.

Settled on the old armchair with his legs resting over the armrest, he was mentally counting down seconds before he could break into the bassist's bedroom and make a collar out of his bloody instrument.

However miraculously, the turbulence had stopped before he heard the other emerging into the living room.

'Damn, you've been sitting here for almost two hours straight. What are you reading there?' Olve wondered, sticking his nose into his best friend's thick book.

'Marcus Aurelius' Kristian replied in an irked tone. 'He's one of the subjects for my exam next week'

'Huh, you’re kinda thorough for someone who hates the system so much-

'I fucking hate it but I can't just drop out like you, shithead. Somebody gives a damn about me'

'That's not too nice to say, Kris'

'Whatever'

He grimaced in indifference, returning to his tedious paragraph until a groan of frustration erupted from his bandmate.

'Agh, come on, man!' Olve insisted, closing his arms around the rhythm guitarist's neck like the hellion he was. 'I'm bored. Let's do something!'

'Ugh, I don't want to get drunk again' Kristian protested.

'And I don't want you to be a fucking bookworm all day long'

'I've got to study this time-'

'You've got all the time in the world. Let's have a drink, get loose and have some fun, shall we?' The bassist purred in his ear, his lips touching the other's nape. 'Come on, I'll make it worth it'

Damned be his comrade for making it impossible to do anything when he had to do. He knew the band leader was doing it on purpose, but he would lie if he would say that it wasn't exactly what he wanted. He needed to be needed.

School work could wait, his household situation could wait, the whole world could wait whenever Olve needed him.

So, he got up and went after his best friend in the kitchen. The bassist opened the fridge to take out the only thing he always made sure to never run out of.

The invitation to binge drink on a busy Tuesday afternoon promised a lot of entertainment but Kristian knew that in hindsight it would end just the same with him vomiting in the toilet and wishing he would've stopped sooner.

He kind of minded the total mess that he was becoming along with his best friend. It wasn't like Olve was intentionally pushing him into becoming a raging alcoholic at the fragile age of 17, but it was the peer influence that he had fallen victim to.

The frail and brittle notion of 'control' that both had even in their chaotic lifestyle got broken after the Morbid Angel concert, enslaving the band leader to a continuous chase of addiction. The little pill that cut them a slice of heaven that night turned out to be the worst choice they chose and it didn't take long until Kristian found out why.

He could vaguely recall the bassist mumbling about how extraordinary he felt in the absence of lucidity, but he couldn't recall one single word that they concretely spoke on the ride back to Bergen. However, since then not a single day had passed without Olve hitting the bottle early in the morning and later in the evening like a sacred ritual.

He knew that everything was getting out of hand, he could tell the difference between what he thought was 'bad' back then and what is 'truly bad' now. Getting hammered as part of the bassist’s matinal routine was by far the lowest that he could sink and Kristian had no idea how to rescue him, if there was anything left to rescue.

Pouring himself a shot of Jim Beam, because buying J. D. literally meant bankruptcy, Olve was only warming up. At this stage, the rhythm guitarist could safely bet that his comrade could drown down his throat a full bottle of whiskey in one go without a single grimace if he had the money for it, of course, so maybe it was for the best that his weekly pay in port was minimal.

'I think there's some Cola left in my room. Can you go and get it?' The band leader asked, earning a small scoff in reply, although the rhythm guitarist obliged.

Dark grey curtains were entirely closed, shading the sun-bleached band posters on the walls, amplifying the overall dark ambience of the bedroom.

He found the bottle by the bed, it was probably the only liquid that the other metalhead was consuming that didn't have alcohol in it. Now, that was insane.

He casually spotted the ashtray on the nightstand being replaced by a big plastic bowl. Ashes, cigarette butts, pistachio shells and beer caps, mixed together were forming a pyramid of impressionable size that the bassist wouldn't bother to throw in the trash until the very top was threatening to fall apart. It was a work of art born from hysterical boredom and prolonged mental corrosion, one that the band leader was very proud of every time someone would enter his mancave.

Returning to the kitchen, they proceeded to spoil themselves with a few on-budget cocktails and lit up unfiltered cigarettes to smoke their lungs black and rotten.

From bitching about regular matters, to making big plans for their little musical project, a marvelous realization crossed a marvelous mind.

'So, I really want to record our new songs. Obviously, it's not long enough for an album, but it's perfect for a demo' Olve spontaneously proposed.

'Weren't we supposed to wait until we get something bigger out?' Kristian frowned in confusion.

'Nah, I'm done waiting. We've got great songs and we can't keep them away from people, you know?' The bassist enthusiastically explained. 'We sound very death and thrash in our first release but we changed a lot in the meantime. We're more black metal now'

'Yeah, well-'

'It's been on my mind for weeks, Kris. I think it's a high time to make ourselves known again!' the bassist insisted, leaning forward in his seat at the table. 'Don't you want that?'

'Of course I fucking do' the rhythm guitarist agreed after finishing his own beverage.

'Great' the band leader smiled widely, pleased to have his way all the time. 'One day we'll hit big, Kris. And that's gonna be soon because we're too stubborn to give up'

'How motivational of you' Kristian teased.

'We should pour a glass for us' the bassist wasted no time to open up the whiskey bottle again.

'For us ' the rhythm guitarist thought out loud, loving to roll those two words on his tongue.

They continued to get trashed until they spiritually transcended to a perfect state of mind where everything was amusing, easy-going and in the realms of relativity.

'Congratulations, you just wasted another day of my life with your stupid love for booze' 

Kristian playfully purred into Olve's ear. Relocated on the couch to kill time, he didn't forget about his comrade's previous promise.

'Wasted?? I wouldn't call it wasted when there's still so much shit to do' the bassist cooed, pushing his best friend on his back, clumsily crawling on all fours on top of him.

'Yeah? And what would that be, mmh?' The rhythm guitarist teased, wrapping his legs loosely around the other's hips.

They could never be more obvious in finding ways to fuck like rabbits. Even if they only did it once, their hormonal outbursts of desire could never be suppressed and nothing came easier than getting horny under the influence. It was like the memory of how much it hurt initially got entirely erased from his brain, making Kristian be just as eager as the first time, minus the disabling anxiety.

A couple days had passed since losing his virginity, days in which he let the happening sink in.

He simply loved to be taken by surprise, playfully grasped by his waist and flipped over onto his stomach. This time was no exception.

He softly moaned with desire when he felt Olve's hardness rubbing onto his ass through their jeans. The suggestive friction was like a physiological alarm, waking frissons of incitement within his body.

'Awh, don't be shy. You look too good to keep your clothes on' The bassist cooed, growing impatient with how nicely his bandmate was bending and whispering underneath him.

'Then take them off already' the rhythm guitarist flirtatiously demanded, only to be pulled up in an instant.

Gazing endlessly into the other's soul with an erotic appetite getting tougher to keep at bay, he allowed those warm hands to take off his t-shirt, unblocked his belt and pull down his pants and boxers. There he laid like a Renaissance nymph devoid of chastity, naked and ready for the amorous loser before him.

The way that Olve bit his lip while gazing at every centimeter of bare skin made his untold sentiments so viscerally transparent. He rushed to throw off his own clothes as if he was about to burn in them and turned Kristian over on his belly for one more time. 

He grabbed him by the middle, bringing his lower body up to his groin, eyes glued to the explicit view.

Kristian heard the small bottle of lubricant being popped open before a cold wetness was smeared over his delicate entrance. He moaned when a finger slipped past the muscle ring and into his center, then another finger was added, probing deeper. He clutched the cushion with his fists and groaned within his throat when something much larger was eagerly inserted. The affliction triggered his awareness faster than he could've blinked, reminding him just how different reality was from fantasy.

'Fuck' The band leader whisper, slowly pushing his cock all the way in, throbbing into the soft tightness all around him.

Hoping that the discomfort would somehow end up sooner than later, the rhythm guitarist grit his teeth and bore through it like a man should.

Once adjusted, Olve’s his began to rock, giving the other long and nice shoves. It didn't take much until the bassist reached a convenient speed, making his bandmate moan and squirm in what he thought to be sheer pleasure.

'Mmh, you take it so fucking good' he mumbled under his breath, running a hand down on Kristian spine, pushing down his shoulders and rising his ass at a better angle. 'Gotta be fucking built for this'

The frankly obscene nature of the band leader's comments unlocked lust more potent than the pain that Kristian was enduring, shifting his focus to something different.

'Built for what?' He breathed out in seduction, trying to get more relaxed and confident in his position.

'Built for me' Olve confessed in a husky voice, selfishly claiming his one and only capture. 'Just for me'

The open admission was like a melody to the rhythm guitarist's heart. It made his own cock twitch in excitement, reviving all of his senses and taking them from zero to one-handed in one go.

The firm friction of nudes flesh against nude flesh, the callous fingers that were holding onto him, spreading his butt cheeks or clasping the small of his waist, just freely touching the irresistible curves and hollows that were put on display, the obscene sound of testicles smashing together and the tempo that was growing more primal with every thrust wrote the recipe for good fuck.

'Shit, I'm getting close' breathlessly, the bassist announced. 'But I don't want to come so soon'

'Huh?' Kristian barely had time to process the words when his best friend let go of his middle, pushed him onto his side and got behind him. 'What-'

'There you go' the band leader hummed, entering the rhythm guitarist again in one slick motion.

There was no doubt that the couch was way too small for them to drunkenly spoon-fuck on it, but it didn't matter because it seemed like Olve was in a mission to bang Kristian's brains out at any cost.

Breathing hotly against the rhythm guitarist's sweaty nape, he thrusted himself in and out like a savage. Each slide was deliciously slippery and tight around his cock, making him consider a brand new addiction.

Needy moans were getting higher in pitch while Kristian was held so tightly in his best friend's arms. It felt better than the first time, better than anything he ever experienced. His soft insides were rubbed and stroked so perfectly that he could practically anticipate his climax.

He cried out when one hand reached for his flustered erection to jerk him off simultaneously. He completely forgot about any physical discomfort while being feverishly pounded into high heavens.

'Fuck yes, Kris' the bassist desperately mumbled into silky honey-brown locks, inhaling the sweet scent of his bandmates hair, perspiration and high heat, never once slowing down the movement of his hips and wrist. 'Now, tell me you'd rather study that have me fuck you so nicely'

He could feel the other getting close, pressing his pale thighs together, literally shivering in hedonistic anticipation.

'I-'

'Are you gonna cum for me now, huh?'

'I'm, I-' Kristian whispered but cut his own announcement short with a lasciviously long, muffled whimper into the sofa.

The orgasm that shot through him shut down his system entirely. Hot viscosity landed on his stomach and onto the rough linen, forever spotting the surface of the couch with the evidence of his satisfaction. He groaned absentmindedly when Olve finally pulled out but didn't move afterwards, catching his breath while still clinging to his best friend's exhausted body.

Kristian didn't even realize when the band leader finished, too absorbed into his rapture to give relevance to anything around him, but he felt the sticky aftermath slowly dripping out of him.

The wildness of their intimate evolution still struck him even after they did it all. The sheer intensity of what they were capable of was everlasting.

'Told you I'll make it worth it, I always do'

He heard the other coo behind him, his impish smirk being perceived without having to be seen.

The ardent pinch in his chest returned when he became aware of the bassist's beating heart pressed to his back and their bare silhouettes still touching in all the right places.

With no idea of why Olve hadn't let go and got up yet, he didn't know what he should do. To turn around and move closer was a second nature response but he feared that he would freeze out of embarrassment to meet those dark orbs immediately after they sexually dissected him. But the alcohol still running through his bloodstream gave him spunk, making him face the band leader regardless of what might happen next.

The chemistry crackled when crystal blue eyes met chestnut brown. Olve didn't even flinch, blinking tiredly at the other. Neither one pulled away or dared to get closer and shut the distance between their lips. The invisible wall stood there between thought and expression, serving as a safety measure for one and an obstacle for the other.

It was easier this way.

Two pieces of the same coin connecting through mutual disconnection for a few seconds that felt like a lifetime.

'You good?'

Olve broke the silence, smiling slightly in his question.

'Yeah'

Kristian murmured back, unsure of what else to say. The soreness returned as soon as he was done, but the dull ache paid for the powerful pleasure he felt towards the end. He watched the other raise and stretch his stiff shoulders until they popped, then grabbed his abandoned clothes from the floor and started to put them back on.

'Hey, give me some wipes or something to clean myself a bit. Will you?' The band leader requested, picking up his discarded jeans.

'How about some water and shower gel?' The rhythm guitarist asked a better question.

'Ah, pretentions, pretentions. Don’t you see that I'm saving all of the good shit for you?' a smug grin appeared on the bassist's face in hope for praise. ’So, to thank me-’

'Go get yourself a towel, I'm not your servant' Kristian rolled his eyes in his denial. 'I'm taking a shower' he got up in his butt-naked timid glory and went to the bathroom. 

'No, wait! I made up my mind. Now I wanna-'

'No, you don't. Now get lost'

Whether or not the rhythm guitarist's capricious tone was meant to be taken as a joke or not, Olve proceeded to clean himself off with his sweaty t-shirt and follow his best friend into the bathroom.

Without a second thought, Kristian closed the shower curtain to wash himself in dignity, mistaking the bassist's search for affection for his usual annoying behaviour.

How much better the world would've been if they could ever synchronize their chaotic amorous feelings.

When the rhythm guitarist was done, he stepped out to find his comrade still sitting on the toilet lid with his pants on but unbuttoned, rolling up a savorous cigarette.

After drying up with a towel, he finally ran out of patience and voiced his frustration. 'Can you stop staring?'

'Why?' The band leader simply wondered, exhaling nicotine fumes into the moist air.

Exhaustion left Kristian with no energy for inconclusive arguments, so he sighed and replied honestly. 'Because I don't like it'

'What don't you like?' An eyebrow was raised more curiously than teasingly.

'My body'

Intoxicated, filterless and driven by post-coitus emotions, he didn't think his legit answer would be notable, but it was. It made the bassist chuckle in disbelief.

'Really?'

'Yeah, now turn around or get the hell out of here'

Kristian's command was rather more dramatic than menacing, making the band leader stay.

'Get some glasses, Kris' Olve bluntly stated. 'You're hot stuff, man. You turn me on like crazy and there’s no room for arguments'

'Yeah sure-' the rhythm guitarist royally rolled his eyes again.

'Well, yeah. You do' the band leader shrugged like it was the most obvious aspect. 'Can't get more honest than that. I would do you every day and night'

The abrupt confession made Kristian blush while he finished dressing up. A drunk mind speaks a sober heart, at least that's what he wanted to believe.

Later on, they went out for a bit of fresh air and to watch the sun's daily demise beneath the horizon. With nothing better to do, they called it a day.

---

'Alright, let's try it again in 3, 2, 1!'

Meeting up at Grieghallen Studio on an ordinary Wednesday early afternoon for rehearsal sessions was often an escape from their home choirs and their quotidian teenage life, but not always.

Nobody believed how dead serious Olve was about starting to record the rest of their materials right away until he personally talked with the owner, who was also the producer of their first demo, to book them a date to work together again.

Needless to say, neither Tore nor Jan were pleased to be put on the spot by their unpredictable bandleader. They tried to change the bassist's mind by telling him that it was too early but once he set himself on something, there was virtually nothing that could convince him to reevaluate his selfish decision. Therefore, all of their not-so-subtle efforts to resonate with the bassist failed miserably.

Truth be told, 'being too early' for another launch was just a diplomatic term for 'being too skunk-drunk to record anything decent', an issue that was reoccurring more and more lately.

Impartial by his nature of not giving a damn and thrilled to see a gram of scandal between his buddies, Kristian didn't intervene too much to support his best friend's decision because he knew damn well that it was indeed a stupid move for the band. He couldn't blame the other's frustration for trying to knock some sense into Olve’s thick skull, but it was their fault for allowing the bassist to do absolutely everything he wanted without any prior consultation.

Eventually, they had nothing to do but go with it because Eirik Pytten was a full-time busy guy who worked with many notorious bands, including Mayhem and if he scheduled them for recording sessions, they better be ready for it. After all, they were using his workplace for free thanks to his sympathy or camouflaged pity.

'Lost in a land in the middle of nowhere!! Body bolted to the ground!!'

Olve was screaming into the microphone the obscure lyrics accompanied by raw resonance of distorted guitars, heavy bass and manic drums.

The clock on the wall showed 7:30 pm, an irritating indication that they've been trying to play the same song for more than thirty minutes now.

Kristian was mildly hopeful that this time they would get it right, but the bass line fell out of tempo and ruined their somber symphony once again. The others stopped, understandably disgruntled and turned their attention to the band leader.

'Everything fine, dude?' Jan asked for the third time since they came to the studio.

'Yeah, yeah, I just got a bit carried away' Olve brushed him off while taking his moonshine bottle from the table to smooth out his vocal cords. 'Alright, this time I'm ready' he giggled.

'For real? Are you sure?' The drummer questioned rhetorically, seemingly fed up with how far the bassist's awful habits have gone. 'From here, it looks like you're only gonna get more carried away'

'Awh, don't be so pessimistic! We might have a bit of a rough start, but we're getting there' Olve stated, oblivious as ever. 'Why do you guys always rush to get things done so perfectly? We've got plenty of time to get it right, you know?'

The sheer audacity was just criminal. It earned the most straightforward answer from his bandmates.

'Well, I wish we did but we kinda have to record this one in two days and it gotta sound good. If we delay it then who knows when we'll catch another chance soon' Tore protested.' Thought you already knew that'

'I do, but there's no worry about it. We play just fine all the time. We only fail if we stress about it' the bassist superficially assured. 'Anyway, I'm ready now, let's fucking rock already-'

'Dude, I don't think we're gonna get anywhere like this-' the drummer interrupted him.

'We surely won't with this attitude, Jan-'

'You're plastered, man. You can't even play zeros on standard time' the lead guitarist boldly pointed out.

'I'm not drunk-' the band leader lied, extending his hands in shock.

'Save it' Jan cut him short, tired of amateurish deception. 'Why did you arrange the meeting with Erik? Why didn’t you talk with us first?'

'Jesus fuck, I thought this way history! Do we get back to-'

'Agh, come on, Olve! You're acting like the whole world is spinning around you. Alright, fine, you're gonna release this demo without even asking and stuff, that's it now, whatever! But how about we actually work on playing these songs as well as we can until Friday?'

Kristian knew that the drummer had a valid point, but he adored being a spectator in all of their fallouts. Jan wasn't the type to kill in counter-arguments, if anything he was always the one caught in the middle and Tore was even less of a debater, however somebody had to say something. The only one who wouldn't allow this shit to happen would've been Harald if he still was in the band, but the ex guitarist saved his sanity by quitting and moving on, leaving the others to deal with what everybody knew was the problem. Therefore, the current pushback was weak and prone to fail.

'I'm trying here!' Olve dramatically pointed towards himself as if he was the one misunderstood all along, but it was about time to be told the truth.

'Yeah, of course you are' Tore just rolled his eyes. ’So it must be our fault that we don't get the riffs right, is that what you’re implying?’ 

'Well, it might be? It's not my fault if you don't believe me' The band leader simply shrugged, putting his instrument aside and pulling out a pack of smokes from his pocket.

'Let's take a break, we’re getting fucking nowhere like that' Jan claimed, defeated. 'I need some air' He got up from his drum stool and went out, trying to avoid the band leader at all costs.

Left inside with Tore and the lingering tension, Kristian could tell that another pair of blue eyes were focused on his back.

'Do you agree with him?'

'What?'

He turned his head to the lead guitarist who seemed bothered with his thoughts.

'The recording stuff.. what the heck is wrong with him?'

There was more concern than anger in Tore's question.

'I don't know, but I don't think he will be like that on Friday'

'How sure are you about it?'

The rhythm guitarist fell silent, giving the other the clearest answer.

'Just as I thought'

Refraining from supplementary comment and evading the sensibility of having to pick sides, Kristian went out to find his best friend puffing on his cigarette on the side of the building. Maybe he made it too obvious who he chose to stick with even when common sense belonged to the opposite team, but he would be damned if he didn't take advantage of the situation to show Olve who was faithful to him and who wasn't.

'Oh, did you come here to tell me that's a bad idea-'

'Ugh, I came here to tell you to shut your damn mouth'

Glimpsing at his happy-go-lucky drunken mate, the rhythm guitarist exhaled in exhaustion.

'Hey, don't stress over it' Olve suggested in a gentle, carefree tone. 'All's gonna be fine. I promise you that'

And as if he didn't know better, Kristian chose to believe it. 

Chapter Text

'We've got one more track for tonight to traumatize you for the rest of your lives, it's called Skin and Bones and it's about children dying of starvation' Abbath talked into the microphone through rapid breaths. 'Are you fucking ready?!'

The public screamed and yelled in unison while the bassist hit hard on his strings. Ballistic guitars and brisk drums came along like a grenade, detonating their final song onto their fans.

Abbath shrieked like a devil in the process of being exercised under the wasted glances of nameless metallers and other creatures from hell. With damp, wavy hair falling in his face, he kept delivering low growls and high, eccentric inflexions effortlessly. He wasn't on his way of discovering how to sound best, he knew exactly what he was doing and this latest aptitude was entirely credited to his good, old singing trick, the always-boosting alcohol. The most obvious influence of Jeff Walker merged with his own original style and lung capacity guaranteed a blood-chilling delivery.

Spawned in the darkest corner of the scene but not easily omitted, Count Grishnackh was playing marvelously with the mindset of stealing from the lead guitarist as much attention as he could.

Tore was shredding at the very edge of the stage, wearing proudly his Old Funeral t-shirt like a teaser for their spectators that one day they will be known outside the neglected pubs of Bergen.

Padden was beating his drum set in the very back, coordinating the rhythmic foundation of the whole band, displaying everyone the message that tonight wasn't just any other night out in Garage, it was their night to glow under the bright, red lights.

Eventually, after all the drama that Olve sparkled them with, the band met up with the producer and kickstarted the recording process of their newest creation in less than a week. 

Once they figured out exactly what to keep and what to leave out for better times, everything became crystal clear. Combining raw, unrefined vocals taken in the abandoned factory of Odda with aggressive instrumental, they assembled and mixed all components into one tight but undeniably explosive demo. And just like that, Abduction of Limbs was officially out.

Perhaps Olve's instinctive call to launch something new wasn't as much of a bad idea as they all initially thought because truth be told, the second cassette was selling much better than the first one, but they would be damned if they gave the bassist the allusion that he could repeat his dick move in the future.

'Thank you!' Abbath stated out of breath, but still in character. 'Just to let every one of you know, we've got two fucking demos out!'

The crowd's clamorous appreciation fed them the momentary recognition that they deserved, but once they stepped down the scene, the wildest part of the night could begin.

Bottles of blonde beer could never miss from their table but the real excitement came in small glasses of rich whiskey and Blanco Tequila.

There was no novelty and certainly nothing remotely remarkable in Kristian and Olve's demented lifestyle that at the very first sight of slight financial prosperity, they would blow it all on beverages.

Forget about tomorrow and live for today was the glamorous slogan that the bassist was selling his best friend every day and night, hoping that it would help the rhythm guitarist to overcome all of his unfounded worries and uncertainties. The intention was noble but the ways were wicked. They only had each other to bet on and they made sure to remain a team even through the craziest nights in town.

Given his almost indestructible resistance to strong, distilled spirits, a godly blessing and an infuriating curse at the same time, Olve could always keep an eye on Kristian in case his faithful comrade would get too shit-faced, and he usually did.

It wasn't fun to have some sort of unnamed responsibility but he knew that he could count on Kristian whenever he himself randomly decided to get dead-drunk and unfortunately, the urge to do so more often than not had turned irresistible, resulting in both of them blacking out and having to be taken home by their peers.

Things were getting out of control alarmingly fast and remarks about addiction were turning bolder and more incriminatory by their bandmates each day. If Tore and Jan had previous reservations about being the killjoys of the duo's idea of 'fun', now they were sick and tired of the whole mess. Therefore, they started to slowly pull away from the time together spent outside their rehearsals. 

It wasn't the first time when the band was 'splitting' in two sides due to minor-but-not-really differences, however, this time it wasn't the high time for conflicts considering that they just returned into the local scene's notice with new songs.

Olve promised them more gigs, or he rather promised himself, but he kept his word despite everyone's doubt, making it possible for them to play live two times in Apollon and one time in Garage. Tore also had the boldest luck to stumble upon a guy who took interviews of proclaimed extreme bands in Norway and offered to get to know them better. Sending back the letters with their creative answers to a bunch of generic questions was just enough of a big deal to keep them hyped for a whole week and when the interview was published later on with their names and logo being proudly displayed on the cover, they thought that they became certified rockstars.

With their popularity mildly elevated, new gigs awaiting and what not, their internal disagreements could be fatally dangerous.

'-you know that B.C. Rich ironbird model, right? Man, I'm dying to get myself a bass just like that-' the band leader's tipsy enthusiasm was radiating through his slurred words. 'I would fucking rob a bank or something but I’m not that dumb to end up behind bars. I just started my career-’

He was talking to one of the guys who came to all of their shows, a possible fanboy who casually became part of their extended acquaintances. Whatever his name was, it didn't matter. He was annoying Kristian and that was it.

Mixed feelings about having some kind of community support and a minimal fanbase came forward to reinforce the idea of how utterly fantastic having people gather around you was. However, the exasperation was palpable and it never matched the time in which he actually desired the attention. As funny as it was, he had a narcissistic circadian cycle that was going through ‘praise me now’ to ‘fuck off and die’ phases every 24 hours.

His hardcore need for his best friend's kisses entered some sort of hiatus as soon as they started sleeping together, indulging his fragile heart into believing that it could switch from 'an ultimate gesture of devotion' to a lesser one and still be emotionally satisfied. And he was, in a way, at least for the moment.

Bored out of his mind of everyone's drunken babblings and useless matters, he finished up his drink before playfully placing his hand on the bassist's thigh under the table.

He hardly tamed his naughty smirk when he saw the band leader choke on his dry gin like a rookie, earning a few wasted giggles in the background. He immediately eyed the rhythm guitarist who stood stoic in his stall, seemingly minding his own business but he wasn't because his palm was still lying flat on Olve's leg.

'Hey, what were you saying?' The guy asked, seemingly interested in sexy guitar shapes and whatever boast was coming out of the band leader’s mouth.

'Oh, yeah. So-' the bassist mumbled, awkwardly returning to the subject.

Playing this game all surrounded by people, on a less than sober mind was especially risky, but Kristian loved the titillation and the bassist's reactions too much to truly think about consequences.

Therefore, he kept a flat affect while he stealthily moved towards the band leader's inner thigh, gripping the relaxed muscle through his jeans. He watched how Olve's laid-back attitude vanished as he shifted in his seat, nervously laughing at what the gods knew that metalhead was saying.

The rhythm guitarist could feel his best friend's legs closing as they rarely did while still talking. It was then when he decided to level up his torment and slide further up to his crotch. Finding the bassist's member semi erect was certainly no surprise no matter the panic depicted on his face. He knew the cocky bastard enjoyed that, that's why he groped him harder.

Hearing Olve babble like a fool was all worth the danger of being disclosed. He peaked at the band leader who rapidly took a gulp of alcohol to escape the visually undetected embarrassment. But then Kristian hissed when he felt his knee being kicked under the table as a drastic measure to 'cut it off'. 

The amusement was on his side because he literally had the bassist by the balls.

The blasting music and the good fun kept rolling until the pub had to eventually close.

Unable to rely on his memory after losing the count of everything that he consumed after the gig, the rhythm guitarist had absolutely no idea when or how he got home in the first place, but he assumed that Jan drove him to his house like he always did and lately hated. Even more shocking was that somehow he managed to push the key into the right hole and get inside before dawn.

Just like an unsavable ship, he wrecked on the shore, or rather on his ocean-blue bedsheets, closed his eyes and died until morning.

---

The early sun rays failed to penetrate the thick curtains that were kept shut in his chamber, permitting him to extend his much-needed rest until his stomach decided that it was time to puke.

The amount of matinal startups accumulated throwing up after drinking like a boiled owl, regretting everything, promising himself that he would never drink again only to endlessly repeat all of his mistakes was getting ridiculous. It was Odin's fault that he couldn't give him the supernatural endurance that his best friend possessed because instead of enlarging his tolerance with time, he only got physically sicker.

A half-empty bottle of mouthwash and a blister of painkillers were waiting in the bathroom's cabinet for him at breakfast once he got his shit together. After taking a hot shower and putting on clean clothes, he made his way into the kitchen in hope that he can finally begin his Saturday.

Spotting his mother savouring her espresso at the dining table with the radio playing softly reminded him that he didn't live alone. Expectedly, he ignored her and started to make himself some tea to get rid of the nausea. While having his back turned at her, he heard the radio being turned off before a falsely calm but firm voice spoke up.

'I've received the letter with your exam results yesterday while you were out with your friends and I am not charmed by it'

His stomach dropped at the news. He only told her that he ‘scored’ but never told her the actual details.

'But I passed. I passed all of my exams, what are you talking about?' Kristian simply asked, tired and unwilling to work himself up for such a banal statement.

'You passed because they had mercy for you, but your overall performance went down since you started high-school' she sharply pointed out. 'You barely passed this year and you see no issue in this whatsoever?'

'Why does it matter if I'm on top or at the bottom? A promotion is still a promotion and that's all that's relevant' he nonchalantly shrugged, although the fact that he tried his best to get the minimum score at each and every exam just to be told downright that he wasn't good enough was enormously frustrating. 'You know I don't care about grades anymore, I've got better plans for my future-'

'What future?' She cut him off with a better question. 'The future of being a drunk or a drug addict with your mischievous friends? Is that your future?'

'I'm not a drunk-' he argued back.

'You are my child and it's hard for me to admit this but you are a failure , Kristian. I always wanted the best for you and I still do, but you changed into someone I no longer recognize' she coldly confessed, irritated by the crude reality.

'You never wanted the best for me, you only wanted the best for you. You put everyone above me' he commented back, losing whatever was left of his frail patience.

'How can you say that-'

'Don't give me that, I know you do' He harshly stated, triggered to the core. 'If I'm a failure, it's because of you. You messed up in how you raised me and I told you that much before. Now don't act all surprised about it because that's the fucking truth!'

'How dare you blame me for your own mistakes?' She demanded, cutting back with egotism. 'Just look at yourself for a second! You do whatever you want whenever you want and you left me with absolute no word in this! You're never home and rarely when you are, you're either sleeping or sick in the bathroom and I'm tired of having the same problems with you! I can't stand living with you like this!'

'Do you ever fucking wonder why I'm not home? Or why do I fucking loathe being here in the first place??' He bit back with sheer spite, locking eyes with her like a rabid animal.

He could throw the bomb on her and tell her that she stole many, if not all the reasons to live but he knew that she wouldn't believe a word and eventually he would embarrass himself for showing weakness. He could smash the empty cup from his hand into the floor just to give her the slightest taste of how furious, lost and hurt he felt inside but he knew that if he ever acted out like that she would send his awful father on his way to him in seconds, but the urge was strong. His fist was locked and ready to do it.

'I did the best that I could to raise you right, but you always prove to me that no matter how much I try, there's literally nothing I can do to get you to be normal. You must've been born like this because otherwise I can't explain why, just why, you always disappoint and ruin me'

'Then fucking get rid of me already! Solve your biggest problem now and forever!' He yelled at her, done with her endless whining.

'I don't know what to do with you anymore. You are a lost cause and a waster. Only if I knew from the start..' she stopped herself before she could divulge something so visceral that neither of them was ready to hear. Then, she attacked from another perspective. 'You are just like him. Everything that I ever despised and dreaded in your father, you took from him and you got worse. There's no future for you like this, Kristian. No future at all'

Looking dead into her eyes, he could tell that she meant every single reproach that she stabbed him with. The brutal comparison threw him off a cliff every time he heard it. He could never be like him, there was no way. But what if?

Worthlessness dug its nest inside Kristian's heart, reinforcing him the notion that he had always been broken beyond repair and a handicap in the form of a person for his family.

The scandalous lack of empathy and the superior aura that she was bathing in, almost satisfied to shut his mouth up with shocking revelations made him think that she was hurting him on purpose. Hurting him so she wouldn't hurt herself with the acknowledgment of failing him, hurting him to prove infinite indestructibility in front of her own wounded child.

'I fucking hate you..'

He murmured back, acerbic to the bone.

'I know' she replied calmly with fraudulent wisdom as if they weren't screaming at one another mere seconds ago.

'You hate me, you hate your brother, you hate everyone around. It's you against the world. There's no room for understanding or sympathy or love in your heart for anyone. You’re a cold and callous shell of a person. How can you expect love and compassion from those around you if you yourself are incapable of any?'