Ahh...I loves me the smell of a fresh, blank OpenOffice document at 7 P.M...

**WARNINGS**

Slash, drug/alcohol usage, and some bad language

**DISCLAIMER**

God damn it, no, I don't own any characters yet!

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Time works like acid
Stained eyes
You see time fly

The face changes as the heart beats
& breathes

We are not constant
We are an arrow in flight
The sum of the angles of change

Her face changed in the car
eyes & skin & hair remain
the same. But a hundred similar
girls succeed each other

~~Time Works Like Acid, by Jim Morrison

CHAPTER 1: PERFECTION

Nobody would have ever expected that Toki Wartooth would be remembered for much of anything aside from being one of the most successful—though not one of the best—guitarists alive, but now he stood in front a rioting crowd, watching their madness grow by the second. How did this happen, how did it come to this? His new, blond hair blew around him and he just stood there, like always, in the shadow of someone much greater than himself. He was dying. Did he regret the actions that lead up to this point, to this, his probable destruction? No, not at all, but he did find it funny that the whole world could be turned inside out and upside down by just one small kiss; it was a kiss that hadn't been small in all actuality, but the biggest, most monumental meeting of the lips since Adam kissed Eve before making love to her. It began with something small, though, something so miniscule that it was almost laughable. It began with a gold, shining trophy. It, like everything else in this world, began with Skwisgaar Skwigelf.

The rest of the band stood backstage watching as Skwisgaar, dressed in an annoyingly stiff suit, made his way onto the stage, accepted his award from a beautifully dressed model of a woman, and announced into the microphone, "Hey, ja, greats, just what I needs—another stupids trophy thing. Honestly, I reallys don't gives a fuck about this award, but thanks. I guess I appreciates it, even though I could be at home fucking some sluts rights now instead of here talking about something thats I don't even wants. Anyways, ja...great. Thanks for votings me-" he glanced down at the trophy and read in his murky English, "-The Great-vest Guitar-God That Ammnest Ever Lived To Be Alive...wows. You guys just keeps making up stupid awards to gives to me, don't you?" he rolled his eyes and tucked some of his blond hair behind his ears.

Meanwhile backstage Toki was watching, his pale eyes focused on the Swede, looking both envious and angry. "Why can'ts I ever gets an award?" he asked Ofdensen, who stood to his right.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could Pickles had said, "Dude, you do get awards, like last week you gat 'dat one for-"

"Kids gave me thats award, Pickle!" he said in agitation. "I wants a real award, a trophy or somethings! What abouts a star on that sideswalk in that place in Hollys-wood?"

"Don't you mean Hollywood, jackash?" Murderface inquired.

Toki shrugged. "That ams what I said."

"Oh God, Ofdensen, he's about to do that thing where he starts sulking again because he's not as good as Skwisgaar." Nathan groaned. "Make him stop!"

"Look, Toki," Ofdensen said gently, placing a supportive hand on the Norwegian's shoulder. "you are a very talented guitarist, but the fact remains that-"

"Usings the world 'talented' very lightly these days, aren't wes?" Skwisgaar inquired as he returned backstage. Carelessly he threw the trophy into a nearby trash can and grabbed himself a drink. Toki watched him with wide eyes.

"Why you throws it away?"

"I ran outs of rooms in my rooms for all 'dem stupids awards." the Swede explained, downing his glass of champagne. "Besides, it ammnest a stupids trophy anyways; I gots a bill-skions more likes it at homes."

"But-"

"Toki, listen to me," Ofdensen said, trying to make the Norwegian understand him. "every band has something called a 'band dynamic', do you understand?"

The guitarist sighed and nodded. He'd received the 'band dynamic' talk at least a hundred times already. "Ja, I understands."

"And you fit into that dynamic by being a favorite of children. They look up to you, Toki. They respect and adore you; isn't that enough?"

He glared down at his boots and mumbled dejectedly, "Well ja, but I don't gets any trophys fors it."

Skwisgaar just chuckled and slapped Toki's shoulder playfully. "Comes on, littles Toki, I-"

"I'ms not little, Skwisgaar."

"You ammnest pretty short to me." he observed, smiling down at the other guitarist. "Looks, there ams something you gots to understand—the simple fact is that I ammnest just way betters than you. Never wills you be able to even be half as goods as me, but you ams adorables for trying." he pulled Toki into a hug and said mockingly, "If I were yous, I would looks up to mes, too. You can'ts help it, I guess; I ams pretty great."

"I ams pretty great toos!" Toki snapped, pushing the Swede away from him.

Nathan just laughed at this then walked away, mumbling, "Yeah, right...who's got a drink? I need a drink."

Ofdensen frowned at this and said to the Norwegian, "Please understand that this isn't a matter of who is better than who, just-"

"No," Skwisgaar agreed. "it ammnest nots, 'cause everyone knows that I ams better than Tokis. It ammnest not up for discussions."

"I don't think 'dat—"

"Pickle you ams drunk, so just shuts up." he interrupted, rolling his eyes at the drummer. Pickles just frowned and took a step nearer Toki.

"I ain't that drunk and look, the kid just looks up to you, 'dat's all. You don't gatta be such a dick about it, dude."

"Me beings a dick?" Skwisgaar scoffed. "It ammnest not mysfault if he ams jealous because I gets more moneys, fames, and girls than hims, not to mentions the fact that I have more talent in my index finger than he does in hims entire b-"

"I do haves just as much talent as you, Skwisgaar!" Toki blurted, his face reddening with anger. "And I wills proves it, too!"

Ofdensen glanced nervously from one musician to the other before saying, "Boys, maybe it's best that we don't-"

"You can't even plays one song right, much less proves that you ammnest betters than me." Skwisgaar said, laughing at the Norwegian's anger. "And besides, no matters what you do, you'll always be compared to mes, because I ammnest a Gods, don't you understands that?"

"I coulds be a God!" Toki cried, sniffling. He was nearly crying tears of white-hot anger as he pushed the Swede back a little and insisted, "I'm just as goods as yous are, but nobody ever gives me a chance to proves it! Why can't I haves solos likes you? Why can't I gets all the awards and all the attentions? No, instead you just alls push me back in a corners and expect me to sucks it up! Well you knows what? I'm tired of suckings it up! I'm just as goods—better than you are, and I'm goings to prove it."

He chuckled and smiled down at the other guitarist in an incredibly demeaning way. "Oh reallys? How ammnest you goings to dos 'dat?"

"I wants to writes my own solo! That's right, I'll rights it and plays it up onstage in front of everyones, then everyone will knows how much better I ams than you!" Toki said, glaring at the Swede hatefully. "And then I'll win all the awards and I'lls be the God, just likes you!" in his mind as he stood there glaring up at Skwisgaar, waiting for him to open his mouth and respond, all he could think of was, Just likes you...just likes you...just likes you...I'LL be the God...

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The ride home was a long one. As the car got stuck in traffic, another fight broke out between Skwisgaar and Toki, one which ended with Pickles—who was now drunk—having to slur loudly, "Skizgaar, you know 'dat you didn't-ain't ne'r deserve no award noways, 'cause you're a fuckin' dick-cack-motherfuckin'-sucker."

Toki shrank down in his seat in embarrassment as the drummer fell on his shoulder and downed some more booze. "Thanks Pickle, but I can tells him off myself." he said, trying to shrug the other man off of him.

"Tells me off?" Skwisgaar laughed and crossed his arms over his thin chest. "Ammnest that what you were doings? I couldn't tell."

"Heeeey, shut up." Pickles snapped, spilling some alcohol on Toki's jeans. Unfortunately, the drummer had fought for a seat next to the Norwegian, despite everyone else's comments against it; when he was drunk Pickles had an annoying habit of worsening the band's problems. Now that was just what he did as he slurred drunkenly, "Yeah, you're a fuckin' dick an' you know what? You don't deserve nona the awards you gat, 'cause you suck dick, dude...fuck you."

"Tokis, please keep your littles dog under control." the Swede commented smartly, staring out the window. The Norwegian narrowed his eyes at the blond.

"What you means?"

"Well Pickle ams obviously your bitch, so just keeps him under con-"

"Skwisgaar, Toki, please!" Ofdensen broke in. "I thought we already discussed this whole 'band dynamic' problem."

"Fucks the stupids band dynamic!" Toki cried, punching angrily at the leather seat of the car. The manager frowned at this childish behavior and opened his mouth to say something, but Murderface cut him off.

"Jeesh, you guysh shure do hate each other all of the shudden, don't you?"

Skwisgaar shook his head at this. "Nos, I don't hates him, I just wants him to know how much better than hims I am."

"Fucks you!" Toki hissed angrily. "I'ms tons better than you!"

"S'true, you're awesome." Pickles said, closing his eyes. Before he passed out, he mumbled half consciously, "Awesome..."

"You wants to write your owns solo?" Skwisgaar challenged. "Fine, gos ahead, but don't expect me to helps you!"

"I won't needs your help, stupids ass!"

"Please." he rolled his eyes. "You can't even reads music, but you think you can writes a song by yourskelf? Fines, gos ahead, I'd love to sees it and laugh at you when you gets up on stage to plays it."

Finally they arrived back home; everyone went their separate ways and Toki was left to storm to his own room and slam the door. He went over, retrieved his guitar from its spot beside his bed, and got some paper and a pen. In an instant he was laying on his bed chewing on the pen cap, thinking of what notes to write down. The horrible truth was that he really couldn't read music, he didn't even know where to begin. He just laid there studying the old sheets of music that Skwisgaar had given him for the other Dethklok songs like Thunderhorse and Blood Ocean. Finally he began to visualize what he wanted it to sound like, but when he tried to put it down on paper he still had no clue where to start. Toki sighed in annoyance and threw the pen down.

"Stupids Skwisgaar...it ams always so easy for him." he paused, glared down at the sheets of music and added in quiet rage, "Everythings ams easy for him." then he began to think about what he had said before at the awards show. Just like hims...I'LL be the God... "Just like Skwisgaar...if I was likes him, then everything woulds be easier..."

What made the Swede so much better than him? Skwisgaar got more girls than him, was more talented than he was, had more fame and more fans, but why? Wasn't Toki just as good as him? No, of course he wasn't, but why not? Was it because he didn't have the Swede's blond hair, his beautiful face, or his slender, tall body? Toki let out an irritated groan and rolled over on his back, stared up blankly at the ceiling. Maybe this had been a mistake. To take on Skwisgaar was certainly the stupidest thing he could've ever done, wasn't it? But if he could actually beat him, then that would make him the best guitarist alive...

Toki ran a hand thru his hair and suddenly began to feel very angry with himself, with the world. He wasn't good enough? Fine, then he'd make himself good enough. He'd make up the best song ever, one that was better than anything Skwisgaar could even dream of playing. It would be the fastest, heaviest guitar solo in the history of guitar solos, and Toki Wartooth would be given sole credit to its creation. Just like that, the notes came rushing back to him, and in an instant he was writing down a random assortment of words and drawing pictures on the paper. He didn't know what it would all amount to, only that if this was the best he could do then it would have to be good enough. In the end he had three fronts and back pages of loose leaf full of pictures and explanations of what he wanted to do and how he wanted his solo to sound. It all appeared to be idiotic gibberish, but to Toki somehow it made sense and seemed to make things much clearer.

He had things on the paper such as, Drop 'D' Tuning in second part...low to high...13th fret...sweep pick it...go down to the LOW C...pick it, don't just pull off...along with those little notes he mentioned several solos from some of his favorite songs. They were all random and had no real meaning or direction, but to Toki they meant everything. This he wrote in Norwegian for some reason, as if it were some secret code that only he could understand. Hendrix, Voodoo Barn...Trapp Til Heaven-Zeppelin...Sjel Offer-Santana...Begravet Ved Tid Og Støv-Mayhem...Dance of Death-Iron Maiden...

Once that was done he picked up his guitar and began playing it fervently, keeping in mind the notes he had scrawled down. Once everything was done he had memorized an effective, oddly amazing heavy solo and he was quite proud of himself. Since he didn't know how to write it down to remember it, he kept playing his solo over and over until his fingers became raw and began to drop blood down onto his sheets. Finally Toki let himself take a break and go to sleep. It was six in the morning—he'd arrived home at seven the night before—and he was exhausted.

Just before he passed out, still hugging his guitar to him, Toki thought of a title for his solo. Feilfri.

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Det er OK... det er greit å elske ham?

Han er vakkert... Han er utrolig.

Er ikke han? Er det galt å tenke sånn?

Nei.

Det er rett, fordi det er sannheten.

Toki dreamed something very odd that night. Like so many times before, he dreamed that he was in Skwisgaar's place, had everything that the Swede did and whatever he didn't; for once he was the God, he was the perfect one. The truth was that he always seemed to have dreams about the other guitarist, he always seemed to be thinking of him whether it be because he was jealous of him or just because—was it okay to admit?-he secretly adored him. Yes, Toki thought, he did adore Skwisgaar, much more than anyone could ever know. The truth was that he even had the slightest crush on him.

Blonde hår, og Golden Sun nåde, hans svært blod og velsignelse...

[Blond hair, golden like a bit of the sun's grace, its very blood and blessing ...]

Huden blek og glatt liker snø brukes til å falle i Lillehamer, så ren i sin perfeksjon...

[Skin pale and smooth like the snow that used to fall in Lillehamer, so pure in its perfection ...]

Øynene som det dypeste blått på himmelen etter sommeren lyn og torden, full av liv, men også full av sorg for Faderen han hadde aldri møtt. ..

[Eyes like the deepest blue of the sky after a summer lightning storm, full of life, but also full of sorrow for the father he'd never met...]

Jeg ville elske å se ham, ønsker jeg å føle seg ham ønsker meg. Jeg vil at han skal ta på meg og utleie meg kjører hendene mine gjennom det gyldne håret...

[I'd love to see him, I want to feel him want me. I want him to touch me and let me run my hands thru that golden hair...]

Toki really didn't see it as a problem that he had a crush on the Swede, only a steady, natural emotion. He was smart enough not to let anyone know, because he knew that if they figured it out he'd be kicked out of the band for sure, but this still didn't stop him from liking the the other man. He dreamed most nights that he and Skwisgaar were sitting together in some far-away place alone, holding hands and talking, but tonight he dreamed something else. He was playing his guitar and Skwisgaar was there, but something was different about him. He seemed to be shining, glittering under Toki's curious gaze. The Norwegian didn't try to kiss the Swede as he so often did in his dreams, but instead he became jealous of his radiant glow and threw down his guitar.

"How come you ams so beautiful and I'm nots?" he demanded.

Skwisgaar just gave him one of his characteristicly cocky smiles and answered, "Because you ammnest nots just likes me; you'll never be just likes me, Toki. You'll never, ever be goods enough, nots ever." then he added in Swedish, "Jag är er Gud, så du kommer att tillbe mig."

[I am your God, so you will worship me.]

Toki didn't understand quite what this meant, but he knew that it pissed him off. It made him so angry that all he could think to do was throw his guitar, step on it, and pull a handful of the Swede's hair as hard as he could. Instead of letting out a yell of pain as Toki had wanted and expected him to do, Skwisgaar laughed, laid his hands on the other man's waist, and pulled him over to him. Without hesitation, the Swede kissed Toki, kissed him deeply, and then disappeared into the air with the echoing words of, "Du är en idiot, Toki, en dum fool... tillbe mig, TILLBE MIG..."

[You're an idiot, Toki, a stupid fool...worship me, WORSHIP ME...]

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**A/N**

Yay, done with chapter 1. Hope you enjoyed it and will review it, because as always I appreciate and love to read what you have to say. Also, yeah, some of the translations aren't correct, and that sucks. I tried my best and checked and double-checked the sentences using Bing Translator and Google Translator, but some of the sentences and statements just weren't working out that well for me, so I just got frustrated and put whatever I could to make it sound right. Other than that I guess there's not much more to say...

Peace & Love