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[FIC] The Way They Were

Title: The Way They Were

Author: Semenkhare

Rating: G

Pairing: Implied Nathan/Pickles, one-sided Murderface/Nathan

Warnings: No

Summary: Sometimes, he wishes Dethklok had never formed.

Author's Notes: I wrote this a few days ago, and I intended it to be longer, but then I ran out of steam and sort of forgot where I was going with it. It feels unfinished to me, but I can't figure out how to keep it going without crowding it up. 

Cross-posted to murdersplosion


Sometimes, he wishes that Dethklok had never formed. 




Sure, it was nice to have more money than they knew what to do with. It was nice to have servants to cater to their every whim. It was nice to go out on stage to millions of screaming fans, and know that they would do anything for you - even literally die for you.



But sometimes he misses the way it used to be. When it was just him and Nate in a crappy one bedroom apartment with no prospects and no money, sleeping in the same bed which totally wasn’t gay because they had to share body heat because it wasn’t their they’d spent the utility bill money on booze and weed. (Okay, maybe that was their fault. But it's still not gay.)




He misses the days where he called him ‘Nate’ and Nate called him ‘Will’ and they could     honestly call themselves friends, none of this no-caring bullshit. He misses the nights spent watching shitty horror movies on basic cable. He misses being at yet another shitty gig to try to pull in some income so they won’t get evicted again, and looking out into the audience and seeing his face there, no matter how un-brutal the music was. 




He misses the days before the others.




Toki is all right; he’s just a kid, and not too bright at that. He’s fun to pal around with, but it isn’t the same, and he can’t pretend it is. Palling around with Toki is more like being a babysitter sometimes.




If he has to put his finger on where everything went wrong musically, it would be when Skwisgaar joined up. The Swede was arrogant enough to believe that anything not written by himself could only be dildoes, and so insisted on writing every part by himself - even the bass lines. 




He'd stopped caring about the music after that.




He misses the days before Pickles. 




The drummer, he hadn’t trusted, right off the bat. There was something about the way that Nate looked at him, that just turned his stomach. The day he realized that Pickles was taking his place in Nathan’s life, he swore a private little war.




If there was anything he knew about, it was war. 




He’s hated many people before in his life. But he’s never hated anyone as much as he’s hated Pickles.