Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Skwisgaar hated his mother.

Serveta was gone again, no surprise, leaving her ten-year-old son home alone. Skwisgaar was used to it at this point; she’d started staying away for days at a time when he was around seven years old. The longest she was ever gone was a week, and during that time, little Skwisgaar had to teach himself how to use the oven and get ready for school on his own.

Serveta’s hobby was hooking up with younger men, getting wasted and wandering around the city in broken heels. It’s no wonder she doesn’t know who Skwisgaar’s father is, half her life has been one big black out.

Fall was turning into winter and Skwisgaar sat on the couch, staring out the window at the flakes of snow cascading down from above and creating piles on the ground. He sighed and wondered if he should build a fire, as he was getting cold. He decided that he was far more tired than anything, so he neglected to make a fire and took himself up to bed.

The young boy felt much older than he was as he climbed the stairs alone. Skwisgaar dressed himself for bed and brushed his teeth. He studied the messy blond tresses that hung to his chin and ruffled them with his hand. He didn’t feel like brushing his hair, and there was no adult to make him.

Skwisgaar walked to his bedroom window and stared outside at the billowing trees coated with layer upon layer of snow. He didn’t usually mind the cold, but he was beginning to hate it. He hated living there, with or without his mother.

He climbed into bed and shut his eyes, willing sleep to take over and bring him to a different place, a better place.

THUMP.

Skwisgaar shot up in bed and looked around. He hadn’t been asleep for more than a few moments when he heard a crash resound from somewhere inside the house. His heart was racing, his mother never returned in the middle of the night.

Skwisgaar hesitantly slid out of bed and crept as carefully as he could to his door. He pulled it open cautiously and poked his head out, looking for an intruder. All he saw was pitch blackness on the upper level, but he could see a small flicker of light from the stairs. He summoned his courage and walked slowly over to the landing.

He tried to hide when he saw movement. He crouched down as low as he could and peered between the bars of the railing. There was definitely someone in his house. The figure below in the Skwigelf’s living room was small, like Skwisgaar, and was tooling around a flashlight and rummaging through things occasionally slipping an object or two into his rucksack.

Skwisgaar’s eyes widened, he was being robbed by another kid. He stood up and descended the stairs quickly and quietly, sneaking up behind the intruder. The child bent down to grab something off the ground and Skwisgaar pounced on him.

The boy gasped and yelped when they hit the ground. The flashlight went flying out of his hand and landed a few feet away. They were left in darkness, and neither could see the other. He wriggled beneath Skwisgaar as the other pinned him to the floor, sitting on him to still the movement.

“Vad gör du?” Skwisgaar growled into the boy’s ear, leaning in close.

“What?” A much higher pitched voice asked.

Skwisgaar became confused, “Doesn’t you speak Swedish? What ams you doing?” He didn’t loosen his grip, but waited with interest to hear the criminal’s story.

“I didn’t knows anyones was home! I’m sorries!” The boy twisted and writhed wildly to break free but Skwisgaar held firm.

“Oh, rights. So that makes it okays then, huh? Pfft. Yous trying to steal things which ams mine. Too bad I caught yous.” Skwisgaar chucked darkly, feeling powerful.

The kid huffed and with a great heave, pushed Skwisgaar off and wrested him onto his back. The boys tussled and brawled for a moment, trying to claw each other’s eyes out or pull on hair and ears. Eventually the stranger pinned Skwisgaar on his back and crawled over him.

Skwisgaar’s head had fallen back into the beam of light left from the discarded flashlight. He was then able to see the intruder’s face. The boy that loomed over him had straight brown hair that fell to his chin, and was softly mussed up from the struggle. He had icy blue eyes and gentle face, which was set into an almost comically stern expression. His clothing was tattered and dirty, hanging off his body as he was far too skinny for it.

“I’m going to leaves now, just let me, okays? I’ll puts yous stupid stuff back, it probablys wouldn’t haves gotten me much monies anyway.” He hissed slowly and quietly.

“Who ams you? Whys you doing this?” Skwisgaar had a lot of questions. He couldn’t fathom why such a young boy would commit a robbery, or why he needed money in the first place. He wanted to know about this kid’s backstory, he was very intriguing to him.

The kid rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t matter who I ams. I ran away and I need monies to keep going. I didn’t sees a fire or a light, so I comes in here. Happy?” He pulled his bag off his shoulder and held it upside down, shaking out the contents onto the carpet beside Skwisgaar’s head. Out came a couple wadded krona notes, some of his mother’s china, and assorted jewelry.

The boy climbed off of Skwisgaar and bolted to the door. He left without looking back or shutting the door behind him.

Skwisgaar sat in stunned silence while the cool night air came through the door and blustered across his face.

___

The intrusion had him feeling uneasy all the next day. He didn’t sleep all night and thought the next night would be similar. It wasn’t necessarily fear that he was feeling, more like… jealousy?

He wanted more than anything to get away from his mom. He was tired of being ignored and feeling lonely. This kid was able to get away, why couldn’t he? It would be easy. She wouldn’t even notice.

Skwisgaar stood abruptly and with purpose from his bed when he realized what he had to do. He marched over to his closet and selected a backpack. He packed the moss green canvas bag full of clothes and snacks. He wandered into his moms room with the bag secured on his back, and found her ‘secret’ box where she hid cash. Skwisgaar never knew where she got it from, or what she had to do to get it. However it would generally disappear pretty quickly to fund her intoxicants.

Skwisgaar said his final goodbyes to the only home he’d ever known and headed into town to buy essentials for his journey.

He passed many people on the streets of town that he’d known growing up. They nodded and waved at him as they’d always done, not knowing what Skwisgaar had just run away. Skwisgaar just plastered on a fake smile and greeted everyone as to not arouse suspicion.

He rounded a corner to go into a grocery store and passed an alleyway. He stopped in his tracks and peered into it because a heap of fabric had caught his eye.

It seemed to be some homeless person bundled up in slumber. Skwisgaar thought that he too would need to have a blanket. He began to panic slightly, he didn’t want to have to sleep outside, and he didn’t want to go hungry. Just before he turned away the person stirred and looked over at him.

It was the boy that broke into his house.

The kid widened his eyes at the sight of Skwisgaar and scrambled to stand. He quickly looked around only to realize it was a dead end and he had nowhere to go.

Skwisgaar raised his hands in silent surrender but it did no good. The boy bolted towards the exit but Skwisgaar blocked his path, grabbing his shoulders and once again tackling him to the ground. The kid whimpered and tried to maneuver himself into a position of power.

“Hey, stops that!” Skwisgaar grabbed the boys flailing arms and pushed them into the snow dusted concrete.

“I’m sorries, I’m sorries!” The kid repeated, frightened.

“I don’ts care that you tried to rob me! I wants to talk to yous.” Skwisgaar near growled with effort to suppress the boys thrashing.

The child stilled. “You ams not mad at mes?”

“No.”

The stranger took a deep breath and waited.

“I’m going to get off yous now okay? Don’ts go runningsk away, I’ll catch you.” Skwisgaar dismounted cautiously, ready to grab him again if necessary.

The kid rolled out from under Skwisgaar and sat up. He stared at Skwisgaar still looking nervous. “Yes?” he said softly.

“What ams your name?” Skwisgaar asked pleasantly.

The boy squinted suspiciously. “…Toki.”

Skwisgaar grinned. “Hey, Toki. I ams Skwisgaar.”

Toki looked at his hands shyly. “Skwisgaar.” He repeated quietly.

“You ran away?”

Toki nodded.

“From where? Where ams you goingsk?”

Toki looked up at him thoughtfully. “I ams from Norway, I wants to go to America.”

Skwisgaar looked confused. “Wells, then you ams going the wrong way.” He said matter-of-factly.

Toki scowled. “No, I’ms not, look.” He crawled over to his discarded bag and pulled out a piece of folded paper. He unfolded it to its maximum size, revealing a map of the world. He indicated Norway on the map. “Sees, look. I need to go to Sweden first so I can cross into Denmark-“

“Pfft. The Dutch.”

Toki looked at Skwisgaar quizzically before continuing, “…And then I can go downs to France and hopefullies have enough monies for a boat rides to America bys then.” He dragged his finger across all the points on the map. He smiled at Skwisgaar when he was finished, excited.

Skwisgaar thought for a moment. It would certainly be easier to run away if he had a friend with him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the wad of money from his mom’s stash. “Is this enough?”

Toki’s eyes doubled in size and he gasped. “Oh my gods, Skwisgaar where dids you finds that!”

“Doesn’t matter.” Skwisgaar shrugged and put it back in his pocket. “Why did you run away?”

Toki’s face relaxed. “Doesn’t matter.” He grabbed a corner of his blanket and began to roll it up. “Are you sayinsk that you wants to help mes?”

“Not really, I wants to join you. I wants to run aways, too.”

Toki tucked the blanket and map into his bag and pulled it onto his shoulders. He looked at Skwisgaar seriously, “It’s not any fun. I’ve been doing this for months, I’ve lost count…”

“Anything ams better that livingsk at my house. Please, Toki? Can I come with yous?” Skwisgaar pouted slightly and hoped.

Toki stood up and offered his hand to Skwisgaar. “If you can keeps up.”

Skwisgaar beamed and grabbed the other boy’s hand, pulling himself up. They began to walk together out of the alleyway and into the grocery store adjacent. Skwisgaar grabbed a couple bottles of water and looked at Toki. “Do you know where yous wants to go in America?”

Toki shrugged and shook his head.

“How abouts Florida? I hear it’s really warms there, all the times. Insteads of freezing like Sweden.”

Toki smiled. “Ahh, okay. Yeah, it ams reallys cold here. Rule one: Always have a blanket.”

Skwisgaar trailed after Toki as he began to walk again. “What’s rule two?”

Toki stopped and stared at him. He looked all around and leaned into Skwisgaar’s personal space. He grabbed the bottles of water from Skwisgaar and whispered. “Rule two: Run!” Toki turned on his heel and took off running. He bolted out of the store and Skwisgaar stared with his mouth agape. He ran in the same direction as Toki and found him catching his breath a few blocks down.

Skwisgaar stared, frightened, at Toki. “What… was… thats??” He panted.

Toki grinned with furrowed brows, “Rule threes: Don’t… gets… caught.” He tossed a bottle at Skwisgaar and they both took a sip, exhausted and afraid.

Chapter Text

“You needs to eat something, c’mon.” Toki shoved the bag of fast food toward Skwisgaar. It was half eaten and cold, but the best they’d seen in a while.

Skwisgaar shook his head and looked up at Toki indignantly from where he sat on the motel room bed. “Nos way. I know you didn’ts eat today or yesterdays. You needs it.”

Toki rolled his eyes. Skwisgaar didn’t have to know that he hadn’t eaten for the entire week. “Please? I wills eat in a little bit. I’m gonna go trysk and hunt for a whiles.” Hunt was their word for pickpocketing or scamming people. And they were just about professionals at this point. They’d made it just inside France’s border the day before with counterfeit passports they bought. They were fresh out of money from buying the shitty motel room, the small amount Skwisgaar had brought when he was younger was long forgotten and turned into food or clothes.

Skwisgaar frowned and slowly grabbed the bag from Toki. “Be safe, ja?” He opened the bag and casually inspected the contents, pretending he wasn’t ravenous.

Toki smiled warmly and brushed his now waist length hair behind his ear. He looked at Skwisgaar’s gaunt face, noticing his expression full of worry. His hair too cascaded down his shoulders and back in greasy blond tendrils. He was getting to be taller than Toki at seventeen years old. “I’ll be backs soon, douchebag.”

“Dildo.”

Toki stepped outside into the cold night air. He let out an involuntary sigh and watched the steam rise from his mouth. They had to buy a motel room for the next couple nights because they could freeze to death outside. Normally they would stay in the back of an alley with the wind cut off by a dumpster, and huddle together under the few coats and blankets they had.

They used to have more, but things have come and things have gone. Stolen, rather. Skwisgaar’s bag was taken at one point, entirely full of granola bars and socks. They weren’t mad; they’d done the same thing to someone else, certainly. Toki got mugged once, but the man only ended up with Toki’s boots because he had nothing else. Luckily he was unharmed.

The only things they had now were Toki’s bag, a newer one they’d gotten about a year back, they’re first map, a couple of misc. clothes and a guitar. Unsurprisingly, it gets boring drifting from place to place for seven years. When they were in Germany, the boys developed a great love for music, specifically metal. Skwisgaar talked non-stop about being excited to get to Florida so he could get a guitar and play in a band with Toki. Toki loved the idea himself, and one night went into a music store bathroom and hid until they closed. He crept out after everyone was gone, and got the coolest looking guitar in there. He snuck out a window in the bathroom with it and gave it to Skwisgaar as a late sixteenth birthday present.

Skwisgaar loved the guitar more than anything. It was a Gibson Explorer electric guitar, however was without an amp or really anything. He picked at it unplugged with a tab off a loaf of bread. It warmed Toki’s heart to see him have more of a purpose in life. For a long time they were both deeply depressed, and they wanted to give up. But with every successful theft, every night they’d woken up with money tucked in their bag from kind strangers, and each country border left in their wake, they had the drive to continue.

Toki walked into town and looked for tourists. Tourists were the easiest to scam because in their attempt to get immersed in the foreign culture, they are blind to what’s actually happening, especially when it’s dark. Toki pulled his hair up into a bun in an attempt to make it look less dirty and walked casually by a table outside a bakery, where a man had slung his jacket over a chair. In the hustle of the crowd, he was able to slide it off and walk briskly away without anyone noticing. He ducked off the street and pulled the jacket on, buttoning it up. He checked the pockets for anything valuable and smirked when he found a few crumpled euros and a carton of cigarettes. Sometimes cigarettes could dull the pain of hunger.

Toki continued to walk and approached a small, upscale café. There was a man outside offering to take peoples coats and hang them up inside. Toki glanced down at himself. His jacket was on top of a button down that was still in okay condition. His jeans and shoes however had seen better days. He made a decision quickly as the man at the door ducked into the restaurant. He sped inside and tucked himself behind a counter so no one could see him from the waist down.

A woman walked in wearing a windbreaker, visor, and fanny pack. Toki resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Tourist’s looked the same everywhere. “Bonjour, Madame.” He extended his hand to the woman and indicated her jacket. She smiled warmly and began to shed it.

“Hang, on, darlin’ I gotta unhook this...” She spoke with a strong southern- American accent as she fumbled with her fanny pack.

Toki cleared his throat and looked at her hopefully. “I can take zat, too, Madame.” He tried his best to sound French.

The woman smiled again and thrust the items at Toki. Toki glanced to the side and saw the man that was in his place approaching. “He’ll show you to your table, Madame. I’ll go store zese.” Toki moved from behind the counter quickly and began to run onto the street. He ignored the ‘Attendez!’, ‘Arrêtez!’ and ‘Theif!’. He was all too used to people telling him to stop running. He navigated the streets as if he’d lived there his whole life and closed himself in a public bathroom when he was far away from the screams. He let his hair back down and took his jacket off. He was once again cold, but it was worth it to try and disguise himself slightly. He took the bag from the trashcan in the bathroom and wrapped his new findings up in it. He casually exited and headed for the motel.

He let himself in and frowned when he didn’t see Skwisgaar. There was a small piece of motel stationary on the bed and Toki picked it up. “Be right back, dildo.” Skwisgaar had scribbled on it. Toki sighed and tossed the bag onto the mattress. He sifted through the jacket pockets and found nothing interesting. The real gem was the huge wad of cash inside the fanny pack. Another great thing about tourists is that they are afraid of their cards not working, so they take out physical money for their trip. Lots and lots.

Toki smiled so hard his cheeks hurt as he counted 624 euros. He kissed the wad, smacking theatrically and shoved it back in the fanny pack. He intended on wearing it forever for good luck.

As Toki was putting the new clothes into his bigger bag, the door swung open. Toki jumped and saw Skwisgaar standing in the doorway. The blond let out a strange noise and hurried inside, closing the door behind him and leaning his head on the back. He was panting loudly and slowly sank to the floor, on his side against the wood. His eyes were closed as he wheezed on the ground.

Toki watched with his mouth agape. He rushed over to Skwisgaar, kneeling down next to him and taking his face in his hands. “What happends to yous!?”

Skwisgaar opened his eyes and weakly met Toki’s concerned gaze. His breath evened out more and he answered softly. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for whats?”

“I… trieds to get… yous a guitar for… yours birthday…” Skwisgaar’s face scrunched slightly. “I saws one… on the way heres in a store windowsk…the others day. I left afters you dids… and wents there again. I dids everything like normals… I wents in and asked if I could trys it outs… The guy t-turned his back and I ran…The-the alarms went off when I went through the door… There were police everywhere… I lefts the guitars… and I… I gots shot... It was sos scary…” Skwisgaar tried to lift his arm and winced.

Toki gasped and inspected the damage. Now that he was closer, there was a noticeable gash out of Skwisgaar’s jacket and a sizeable chunk of skin missing. It wasn’t a hole, but rather looked as if the bullet had grazed him, but still pretty bad. Blood dripped slowly from the wound and soaked the cloth. Toki looked at it, scared and confused, trying helplessly to think of what to do.

“…Guess that was da wrong… place to hunts from, ja?” Skwisgaar laughed weakly, but Toki could see moisture pooling in his eyes. He was far too malnourished to be running like he had, and on top of that the adrenaline from being shot was fading away. He tried to stand but only barely shifted instead. Toki had never seen him like this.

Toki ran into the bathroom and grabbed the roll of toilet paper. He went to the motel mini bar and broke the glass to avoid paying for the lock to open. He took out the tiny containers of vodka and scrambled over to their bag of clothes. He tore a sleeve off some shirt and hurried with all his ingredients back to Skwisgaar. He pushed Skwisgaar’s jacket and shirt down his shoulders and off, muttering calming things to the other man as he flinched and moaned. He tossed the blood soaked clothes away and handed Skwisgaar a small bottle of vodka. The blond smiled and pulled the cap off with his teeth, chugging the bitter liquid. He coughed a bit when the bottle was empty, but was grateful for it.

Toki took a different bottle and poured the contents onto Skwisgaar’s wound. Skwisgaar almost screamed and writhed a bit as Toki tried to hold him still. “Sorry, sorry, I haves to clean it.” Toki wrapped folded the toilet paper and wiped the wound mostly clean. “You needs stiches or somethings… but I-“ Skwisgaar shook his head. Toki furrowed his brows and continued doing the best he could. He took a fresh strip of toilet paper and folded that, pressing it against Skwisgaar’s arm. Skwisgaar’s eyes pooled over and a tear spilled down his cheek. Toki took the jacket sleeve and wrapped it all around his arm, tying it off on the side to hold some pressure.

Skwisgaar looked down at the makeshift bandage and smirked. “I likes your handiwork.” He feebly brushed the tear away with his good arm.

Toki pulled out a ‘clean’ shirt from the bag and pulled it over Skwisgaar’s head, fingers brushing the other’s freezing flesh as he got it over his arms.

Toki sighed and slumped down next to Skwisgaar on the ground, on the side of his healthy arm. “Wowie.”

The blond leaned over with effort and picked up another small vodka bottle off the dingy carpet, handing to the brunet. Toki took it and sipped slowly, savoring the odd burn. It wasn’t often that they got to drink water, let alone alcohol. But because of their body fat content, any more than two ounces could get them drunk.

“So whys are you sorries?”

Skwisgaar sniffled slightly. “I couldn’ts get you a guitars like how you gots me ones.” He looked at his hands in his lap and furrowed his brow.

“You really trieds to gets me a guitar?” Toki asked softly.

Skwisgaar nodded. “Ja.”

“Thank yous.” He put his arm on Skwisgaar’s shoulder and tried to get his attention. “But that was stupids, don’t dos it again, okay? Please.” Toki smiled and smoothed out Skwisgaar’s matted hair.

Skwisgaar rolled his eyes and let Toki mess with his hair. “Pfft. I wills get yous a guitar one day.” he looked at Toki seriously, daring him to contradict.

Toki stared at Skwisgaar’s gently tear stained face and flushed cheeks. They had been through a lot together. A lot of fights caused them to ignore one another, but Skwisgaar always followed Toki faithfully into battle. They had more good times than bad, and more successes than failures. Skwisgaar stared at Toki and waited for him to say something.

Toki nodded briefly and leaned in, pressing his lips to Skwisgaar’s forehead. He settled back down and pulled Skwisgaar close because the other man was still feeling cold. Skwisgaar leaned into his chest and let himself warm up.

“Dildo.”

Chapter Text

They stepped off the boat and followed the crowd of people being rushed down the dock and into a building. It was blazing hot out and they savored the feeling until they were again shrouded by the indoors. Toki held tightly to a fistful of Skwisgaar’s shirt and hurried closely behind him with a quiet buzzing excitement that engulfed them both. They approached the large line of people being shoved through customs. There were two men stationed in the large room they entered. First, they had to pass through a man checking bags, before going to the second man. People handed the other man their passports, which he nonchalantly glanced at and handed back.

The boys hurried to the first man and showed him their guitars. Neither had cases, and they had nothing else anymore. The man nodded and pointed toward the other man. They walked over to that line and waited quietly for their turn with anxious minds.

Skwisgaar went first and handed his fake passport to the man. He looked at it and blinked before handing it back. He took Toki’s next and gave it right back, waving his hand to rush the rest of the people through. Skwisgaar glanced back briefly at Toki with a straight face as Toki laced his fingers into the fabric again. They fought through the crowd toward the exit.

Skwisgaar reached back as the people became more dense and grabbed Toki’s hand. He pulled him through the double doors into the heat again. He pulled Toki along until they were able to duck down a side street. Skwisgaar stopped and turned to face Toki. They looked at each other with wide eyes.

They both let out a long shaky break and beamed hard. Skwisgaar wrapped his arms around Toki’s shoulders and pulled him in close. Toki held on tight around his waist and they laughed, holding one another.

“Were here. We mades it.” Skwisgaar said in disbelief.

“Florida.” Toki pulled back from Skwisgaar to look in his face. He bounced up and down gently from excitement and readjusted the guitar sliding down his shoulder.

Skwisgaar looked down at Toki and slung an arm over his shoulder. He glanced at the Flying V that he’d gotten for Toki when he turned twenty. They spent an awful long time in France. They had to scrape together a lot of money for new fake IDs and the boat ride to Miami. The boat ride was weeks long and they were so happy to be on land.

The blond began to walk again, slower this time. “Let’s do this.”

___

Toki stepped inside the apartment and slammed the door behind him using his foot. He huffed and used all his strength to heave the grocery bags he was carting up onto the counter in the kitchen. They clattered onto the surface unceremoniously. He sighed and began to take out some of the items. “Skwisgaar, you home?” he called.

“Ja.” came a sleepy reply from behind him. Skwisgaar wandered slowly out of their bedroom and walked up behind Toki. He slid his arms around Toki’s waist and set his chin on the shorter man’s shoulder. “Hey.”

Toki smiled softly and leaned back into him. “Hey.” He continued pulling items out of the bags. He pulled out mainly bottles of liquor intermingled with a couple of cans. He turned over a cheap can of tuna in his hands. He set it down on the counter and looked at his haul. “We’ve gots to makes this last until next month.”

Skwisgaar hummed against Toki and felt along his torso. He furrowed his brows. “You’re too skinnies.” Toki shied away slightly and he dropped his hands down to his sides. “I’ll tries to gets some extrask monies, okay?”

Toki looked down. “It’s fine.” He picked up a bottle from in front of him and unscrewed the cap. He looked down into the neck of the bottle and watched the amber liquid gently sway with his movements. “…You gots the stuff?” He turned around and looked at Skwisgaar sharply.

Skwisgaar’s face was sallow and somber. His eyes were red and receded into his face. His hair hung limply at the sides. Toki looked at him sadly like he was looking into a mirror. Skwisgaar nodded and raised his hand up to Toki’s face. He ran his thumb across the sharp jawline. “Let’s go.” He whispered as Toki’s eyes fluttered shut.

Skwisgaar took the bottle from Toki and led him to the bedroom. Toki fell heavily onto the mattress that was placed in the center of the room up against the wall. The lone blanket shifted slightly and Toki took hold of a corner and began picking at the frayed edges. He looked up at the blond man. Skwisgaar took a shoe box out from the closet and sat down next to Toki on the bed.

Skwisgaar took the lid off the box and tossed it out of the way. It joined the rest of the trash on the floor. Skwisgaar took out a small bag of powder. He measured out a small amount and sprinkled it into a metal spoon. He took a lighter from the box and held the flame against the underside of the spoon. Toki leaned over Skwisgaar and plucked a rubber strip out of the box. He shed his thin jacket and wrapped the band around his upper arm, just above the elbow. He tied it tight, using his teeth to create his desired tension.

Skwisgaar tossed the lighter aside and took a fresh syringe from the box. He put the spoon handle in his mouth and used his hands to set the needle in the liquid and pull the plunger up. He finished and set the spoon aside. He flicked the needle to assure it was void of air bubbles.

Toki waited as patiently as possible for Skwisgaar who turned to him and dropped his gaze to his arm. Skwisgaar lifted his arm and Skwisgaar pressed his lips against his older track marks. He paused a moment and Toki felt his soft shuddering breaths against his skin. He wished for them to be more painful.

Skwisgaar plunged the needle into Toki’s arm and injected him with the heroin. Toki hissed and let his head roll backward. Skwisgaar pulled out the needle and untied the band. He tossed the syringe away to join the others that littered the room.

Toki lowered himself gently to the bed and waited for Skwisgaar to repeat the ritual on himself. He felt the mattress shift as the taller man sunk into the bed beside him. Skwisgaar moved Toki’s hair out of the way and exposed his neck. He watched his pulse thrum slowly and the gentle ripple along his throat when he swallowed. Skwisgaar leaned in and pressed his lips against the warm skin.

Toki squirmed involuntarily and reached back, setting his hand on Skwisgaar’s thigh. “Thanks you.”

Skwisgaar hummed and circled his arms around Toki’s waist.

They can’t pinpoint when this all started. They had no other choice than to stay in this shitty one bedroom apartment for the last couple years. They had a hard time getting jobs at first, and lost them easily due to their lack of communication skills and formal education. The realization that their childhood dream was really just a terrible, poorly thought out decision was tough. They turned to substance to sooth the pain, and found more comfort in each other than anything.

Rent was beyond cheap in the Miami neighborhood but it didn’t seem to make a difference. They could only go shopping once every few weeks, and even then they could only get the cheapest booze and cans of whatever. They hated it, but it was a vicious cycle. The more drugs they took, the more money they needed. Life was not good.

A few hours later Toki woke up and rolled over to see Skwisgaar lying there, snoring softly, hair tangled and messy, a couple pieces dipping into his open mouth. Toki smiled, looking at his unglamorous friend. He hooked his finger around some hair and pulled it out of his mouth. He smoothed his matted hair off his forehead and combed his fingers through it. Skwisgaar shifted towards Toki and into his hand.

Toki propped himself up on his elbow and kissed the other man’s temple. Skwisgaar’s eyes slowly opened. He looked up at Toki blearily and grinned. “Yous again.” He joked.

Toki snickered. “Yeps, sorry.”

“Are yous feeling better today?”

“Ja.” Toki settled back down on the bed and wrapped his arm around the blond’s waist.

“What time is its?”

Toki shrugged.

“I needs to go out today and gets some moneysk.” He groaned little and tried to scoot away but Toki wrapped his arms tighter around him.

“No, you haves to stay here with mes all day.” He pressed his face into Skwisgaar’s neck and whined softly.

Skwisgaar hugged Toki back and sighed. “I’d loves to but I can’ts. I needs to go makes some monies for de foods for you.”

Toki peeked out from Skwisgaar’s neck and looked at him with sadness in his eyes. “You already haves more jobs than mes right nows. You don’t needs to, okays? I dos it.”

“I wants to.” Skwisgaar unraveled himself from Toki’s grip and stood up from the bed. “I’ll be back, soon.” He smiled at Toki and left the room.

Florida is a far cry from Scandinavia. All jackets were ancient history. In fact, it was almost convenient when they were still on the streets, and didn’t have to worry about warmth. Soon, however, it turned into discomfort. The humidity clung to Skwisgaar’s skin and invaded his lungs as he stepped outside. He felt like he was being draped with a warm, damp blanket. He grimaced and began to walk toward town.

He passed the usual homeless people, and remembered the time where he sat where they sat. He smiled at them sadly, having nothing extra to spare.

The usual place where the two boys picked up work was a dingy street in the downtown area. There was a large brick building, whose side was plastered with flyers for club meetings, missing pets, etc. Occasionally, there would be one ‘seeking work’ flyer for quick, one-time jobs. Skwisgaar studied each paper, but couldn’t find one of those.

He was about to accept defeat when he felt something slam into his body, hard. He stumbled a couple feet to the side, before unceremoniously falling on his ass. There was a rustling of papers and accompanying grunts around him. He was slightly dazed but focused on a paper that had fallen in his lap. He picked it up and read:

DETHKLOK

GUITARIST NEEDED

DEATH METAL BAND

MUST BE BRUTAL

AUDITIONS THIS FRIDAY

The whole flyer was scribbled in permanent marker with some contact information underneath. Skwisgaar furrowed his brows. He was sure he’d heard the name ‘Dethklok’ before around town.

In an instant, the flyer was snatched out of his hand, and Skwisgaar looked up to see a stout man towering over him and sneering.

“Give me that!” The man grunted. “I have to posht theshe.”

Skwisgaar squinted at the man as he lisped his words. He waddled around where he sat and picked up the papers that he dropped running into Skwisgaar. He stared at the man’s vest, thinking about how strange it looked, as well as his triangle shaped hair. Americans are weird.

The man picked up the last paper and glared at Skwisgaar as he walked over to the wall. “Unlessh you are a guitarisht, shcram.”

“I ams a guitarist.” Skwisgaar replied instantly.

The man stopped moving around and looked sharply at him. “Really?”

Skwisgaar nodded and stood up. “Do yous just needs one? Or do you haves room for two? I knows another guitarist.”

The other squinted. “I guessh. We just losht our only guitarisht. He wash a dick. Do you listen to our mushic?”

Skwisgaar shrugged. “I knows yous, ja. Some people I’ve worked with says yous real brutal and heavy.”

“…What’sh wrong with your voishe?” He feebly organized the stack of papers and looked up at Skwisgaar, who now stood quite a bit taller.

“What ams wrong with yours?” Skwisgaar folded his arms across his chest.

“Hmm. I’m Murderfashe.” He handed over a flyer.

“I’ms Skwisgaar.” He took the paper and scanned it again. “I will sees you Friday, then?”

Murderface shrugged. “I could talk to the guysh about letting you two come earlier. I didn’t want to do theshe auditions anyway. Call that number later.” He pointed a chubby finger toward the contact info.

Skwisgaar knitted his brows together. “Okays.” He needed to get some change for a phone booth, then.

Murderface yawned and began to walk away. Skwisgaar watched him toss the stack of flyers into a nearby garbage can and continue to wander god knows where.

Skwisgaar let out a breath and smiled wide. This could be it. This could really be something. He spun around and speedily headed back to his apartment to tell Toki the news.

___

Mordhaus is what they called it.

Skwisgaar and Toki hesitantly approached a large, run, down, concrete apartment building in a rougher patch of town, with spray painted block letters over the front door showcasing this name. Skwisgaar glanced over at Toki who was chewing on his lower lip and running his thumb up and down beneath the strap holding his guitar on his back. Skwisgaar gently bumped shoulders with the shorter man, causing him to look up nervously at him.

Toki furrowed his brows, “I hopes this will goes well. What’s if you gets in and I don’ts?”

Skwisgaar shrugged and moved to stand in front of Toki. “I don’t sees why they wouldn’ts lets you in too. You ams as goods at the guitars playingsk as I ams. And if it is just mes… I don’t knows, but we needs the monies.”

Toki looked down, “But you said that Moidaface guy saids that you coulds live at Mordhaus with them if you gets in. You’d get real famous and forget all abouts Toki.”

Skwisgaar frowned at Toki, gently set down his portable amp, and placed his hands on the other man’s shoulders. “Never.” He said softly and pressed his lips to Toki’s forehead.

Toki pushed himself forward into the other man’s arms, wrapping his arms tight around his waist. A moment of silence passed as they stood in the humid air. “…dildo.” He muttered quietly into Skwisgaar’s shirt. He stepped back and nodded once, looking determined. Skwisgaar smiled warmly, turned around, picked up his amp, and took the last couple steps up to the door, knocking with slight uncertainty.

This was it.

This is what they’d always wanted.

They got away from their families. They made it to America. Now all they needed was to combine their insatiable love for music and desire to work together. They were most happy jamming with one another. This was the opportunity of a lifetime.

The door opened and a short man stood in the doorway. He had lengthy red dreadlocks and a distant look in his eyes. He raised a pierced eyebrow and smiled slightly. “Are you Skwisgare and Toeki?”

Skwisgaar was taken aback slightly at the odd pronunciation of their names, and really every other word. “Uh, ja. Hellos. Ams you Pickle?” Skwisgaar took a wild guess. He knew that Murderface played bass, and judging by this guy’s voice, he was not the vocalist. He must be the drummer.

“Yeah! Come on in, guys.” He stumbled awkwardly backwards and opened the door more for the men to step through.

Skwisgaar stepped into the living area of the apartment with Toki following close behind. There were two more men sitting on a couch across the room from the door, looking expectantly at the Scandinavians. One of the men, Skwisgaar recognized to be Murderface, thus the other had to by Nathan, the vocalist. Murderface looked bored as Skwisgaar and Toki stood side by side in front of the couch, fiddling with their guitar straps, and Pickles plopped down on the other side of Nathan, who just looked grumpy.

“Hellos, Nathan.” Skwisgaar said to the newest person.

Nathan grunted, “Hey. So, uh, can you just play something for us? Just so you know, we are feeling kinda leaning because rent is due soon, so, yeah.”

“Lenient.” Pickles said, and giggled, seeming slightly intoxicated.

“Shut up, asshole.” Nathan sat up off the couch back and put his fists on his knees, staring intently at the men standing in front of him. “Go.” He said in a deeper voice.

Skwisgaar and Toki exchanged uncomfortable glances and quickly plugged their amps into the wall and took their guitars off and plugged them in as well. They stood side facing each other, took a deep breath, and began to play.

Skwisgaar started them off, running his pick down the neck of his instrument, the guitar howling in response. He gave Toki a chance to respond, and the other man expertly replied with a few well executed riffs of his own. The two continued to alternate for a few minutes, the music becoming increasingly fast and difficult, showing their masterful skill. At the end of their song, they came together to finish, Skwisgaar paying lead, and Toki accompanying him, showing how well he’d work as the taller man’s rhythm guitarist.

They stared at one another the entire time, entering their own world, remembering the countless hours they sat practicing late at night. Before the comfort of drugs, there was the comfort of music, and they fell back into a similar groove.

When they finished they looked up from their instruments and grinned at each other. They turned and faced the men on the couch and were surprised to find everyone sitting on the edge of the seat, mouths agape.

Skwisgaar furrowed his brows and looked between Toki and Nathan. Toki looked pale and scanned the band members in front of him. The Scandinavians took the awkward moment to remove their guitars and set them next to the amps, preparing themselves to have to pack up and leave.

Nathan blinked a couple times and closed his mouth. The vocalist cleared his throat and said, “…Yeah, so, I think you can join Dethklok.”

Skwisgaar’s jaw dropped and he distantly heard his guitar pick hit the ground. He looked over at Toki who had a hand clapped over his mouth. Skwisgaar took a step towards Toki and hooked his arm around the shorter man’s neck, pulling him in for a hug. Toki made a happy noise and pressed his face into Skwisgaar’s bony chest. Skwisgaar hummed and hugged his friend tightly, “We did’s it.” He whispered.

Murderface leaned back into the couch again and put his hands behind his head. “Are you guysh gay or just European?”

Skwisgaar and Toki stilled and moved away from each other, still beaming wide. “Huh?” Toki asked.

“Whatever.” Murderface rolled his eyes, apparently pretending that he hadn’t just witnessed the most spectacular audition he’d ever seen.

___

“So I guess there’s like an air mattress somewhere but I can’t find it, so one of you will have to sleep on the ground.” Pickles shrugged and gestured at the floor in front of the pull out couch with his half empty beer bottle.

Toki glanced at the bed and looked back at the red-head. “I thinks we can both fits on this.”

Pickles shrugged. “That’s a little gay but okay.” He bid them goodnight and wandered back down the hall where his room was.

Toki and Skwisgaar set their backpacks full of all their belongings from their apartment they’d just abandoned on a whim against a wall with their musical equipment. They’d really taken a chance on this, but felt very optimistic.

Skwisgaar crawled into the bed and Toki followed suit, scooting close to the other to that they were staring into each other’s eyes.

Skwisgaar gazed at Toki fondly. He looked at his dirty hair, sallow cheeks, and scarred arms. He didn’t feel as sad as he usually did, taking in his friend’s decrepit state. He felt like this was the worst he’d ever see him, and from this point on, it would only get better. He put his hand on Toki’s thin face and inched forward. He let his eyes fall shut and kissed Toki’s lips gently. “I’m so happy.” He murmured to his life-long companion.

Toki looked at Skwisgaar in the dim light and whispered, “I loves you, Skwisgaar. Thank you for comings with me to America. I’d be nothings without you.”

Skwisgaar smiled wide and kissed Toki again. “It has beens my pleasure, min lilla, Toki. I loves you, too.”

The men fell asleep, warmed by each other’s bodies and the comfort of knowing that come what may, they would always be together.